Firstborne

Firstborne chapter 1

Knock knock knock! Someone was rapping sharply on Iris's' door. "Iris!" called the muffled voice of a woman. "It's time to get up! The brook ferns need plucking and the floors need to be sweeped! Are you hearing me?!"

Hard not to when you're abusing your vocal cords like that. She thought bitterly, throwing her scratchy wool blanket off and placing her bare feet on the cold stone floor. Iris arched her back and raised her arms, letting out a moan of pleasure as her muscles loosened and her joints popped. She heard the women's voice again. "Iris are you-!"

"Yes, mom, I'm up!" Iris called back impatiently, and she immediately felt a stab of shame. Her mother had enough on her shoulders at the moment, being a servant to the high duke of Canalade, she didn't need to add a snappy daughter to her list as well. She reluctantly slipped out of bed, running her gigantic list of chores through her head. Polishing the suits of armor in the entrance hall, dusting the banisters, plucking the brook ferns and sweeping the floors. That was what she should be able to get done in the morning. She strode across her small room, which had rough flagged stone walls and stone floor. A three candle chandelier hung in the middle, the flames extinguished, so most of the light came from the small window above her bed. She stepped in front of her small cracked mirror, which she had hung from the wall. An oval faced and brown haired teenager stared back at her with bright brown eyes, her expression tired. Her face was grimy and her hair straggly, her skin tanned. Time to get ready. She quickly ran a brush through her bed ridden hair and pulled on a rough leather tunic and yellowish white cloth pants. Seizing a reddish ribbon that she had hung from her headboard, she quickly put her hair up in a horsetail and tightened it. Then she picked up her worn leather boots and tugged them on over her tattered socks. Finally she went over and knelt down on the floor, in a corner of her room. Searching around first to make sure that she was not being watched, she inched her fingernails into one thin space between the stone bricks. She then slowly wiggled it free of its place, sliding it out and placing it beside her. She reached inside, and a second later pulled out a small burlap drawstring pouch. She pulled the lip open and upended it. With a small musical clinking, out fell a thin, finely crafted chain bracelet, made from dainty silver links. From it hung three charms. One was that of a small pair of golden outstretched wings, the second was a small bronze zigzagg, and the third was that of an iron shield. She stared down at it, feeling a pang of sadness. This bracelet was probably worth a fortune if she sold it, but she wouldn't give it away for a million burnite. This bracelet was not just a pretty piece of jewelry, it was the last remnant of her father that she had in her life. She had searched her memories for him many times, but found nothing. And whenever she worked up the courage to ask her mother, she mysteriously became deaf until the subject changed. All that she knew about him was his name. Owen. no last name, just Owen. Her mother had kept her maiden name, Finch. Katrina Elise Finch. So that made her Iris Finch, the skinny, dirt bound slave doomed to serve the great duke Aaron, who governed the western territory known as Canalade. With a resigned sigh, she slipped the bracelet over her wrist, and then covered it up by tying on an old oil stained rag. If high duke Aroan or his absolute demon of a daughter Valarie saw the bracelet, they would make it a personal mission to retrieve it at all cost. Oh what an absolutely ridiculous idea for a slave to be given such a precious trinket! That is why she hid it behind the brick every night, so it would remain a secret. She made her way over to the door and opened it. She stepped out into a large courtyard, surrounded by tall cobblestone walls and looming towers. The crisp morning chill still hung in the air, and the sun was new and freshly minted. Shivering slightly, Iris made her way across the courtyard, heading for the archway to the main corridor. Several other slaves were milling about, stretching or carrying bundles of blankets or delivering meals to other inhabitants of the castle. A couple called out to Iris with words of greetings, which she enthusiastically returned. Hey, they were all stuck in this pit together, so why not support one another? Just then a tall well built woman came bustling over to Iris, her short ragged hair pulled back into a bun, and her arms laden with all manner of cleaning utensils. Her mom looked down at her with hurried, worried hazel eyes. "Good, you are up. The suits of armor really need polishing, and the floors are simply horrid! Here! You will need-"