SCARRED; The Dark Tower

Chapter Six: The Words of the Prophetess

After a long, sleepless night of tossing and turning, Jerrick finally succeeded to fall asleep. It had been a long first day in Derelda. When he had gotten over his anger enough to speak, he had begun asking Lekira hundreds of questions, all of which she answered kindly despite his venomous stare. In his mind, it was partly her fault that her father had died; if she was a valterus and could use magic as she said, why couldn't she have come down and rescued them?

Jerrick's eyes fluttered, trying to accustom to the bright light filtering through the window.

"Good morning, sunshine," chimed a cheery voice. Lekira was leaning over the foot of the bed, tying the window curtains aside.

Jerrick grumbled and dug his face into his pillow. Why couldn't she let him sleep a few more minutes? Surely she could have predicted that he would not sleep well.

"I'm supposed to bring you breakfast immediately," Lekira smiled, grabbing a bowl of who-knows-what from the bedside table. "Here; eat up!"

Then she bustled out the door without another word.

Jerrick lifted a spoon of the slop from the bowl to his mouth. To his amazement, the slop tasted delicious; it sort of tasted like the porridge his mother used to make for him, but with a fruity sweetness. Realizing how hungry he was from having not eaten at all the day before, Jerrick shoveled the food into his mouth and swallowed the spoonfuls in huge gulps. After scraping the bowl clean, he placed it back on the bedside table. He reclined back into his pillows.

Jerrick laid there for more than an hour before Lekira returned. He sat up as the door clicked and swung open, and Lekira materialized in the doorway. Her expression looked both excited and anxious as she stepped into the room.

"Get dressed," she said simply, her eyes glinting with urgency. "Your outfit is laid out there on the chair. Once you're dressed, come outside."

Then she turned and left, slamming the door behind her.

Jerrick was not keen on getting out of bed; but at the same time, he was itching to take a tour of Derelda. He felt that having a walk around would get his mind off the painful memory of his parents' deaths.

Hurriedly, he scrambled into the outfit that had been lain out for him, his ankle still giving a shot of pain at every step. As he struggled to pull on the boots, he recalled being pushed to the ground by one of the shadowy figures in his hometown at an odd angle and dislodging his ankle. He shuttered at the cold memory and felt  the same fear claw at his heart as he had felt at the attack.

His hand slightly shaky, Jerrick reached up and ran his finger along the scar on his neck. The evening before, Lekira had mentioned something to him about his scar meaning that he was a valterus. He recalled the similar scar on the back of Lekira's hand.

A knock came to the door, startling Jerrick from his thoughts.

"Are you about done?" came the impatient voice of Lekira.

Jerrick rushed to the door and opened it. Lekira was standing out in the hall, her expression still filled with confusion and thrill.

"Follow me," she said, only giving him a glance. She whipped around and strode down the hall, Jerrick skipping behind her.

"Where are we going?" asked Jerrick, trying hard to stay beside her with his injured ankle.

"Someone is here to see you," Lekira said through a clenched jaw. Jerrick tried to ask more questions as she led him down a set of stairs, but she would not answer.

Together, they hurried through a small room with a fireplace and a few chairs and out the door opposite. They came out into a small cluster of buildings much like the buildings in Jerrick's hometown. The only difference between this village and Largone was that this village was on a sort of shelf on the side of a tall, steep hill -- much like a mountain -- with a waterfall running down into a stream, which weaved through the assembly of buildings. It had the appearance of a painting, in Jerrick's opinion.