Endalia

Valeray

         “Valeray!” My mother calls my name. She wishes I’d pay more attention, every time.

         “Yes, mother?” I call back to her.

         “Pay attention.” I was right. “The minister is administering the administration to the administers.” Which, as you guessed, is an extremely annoying thing to hear and say. “And come here. What are you doing in the house? The minister is administering the administration to the administers, like I just said! Now get out here. The whole village is watching.”

         ‘The whole village’ meaning the 700 people of Grandhilda. A small community, but a very religious community. And also the only village in the Northern Isles ruled by the Southern Isles, some 7’000 miles to the south. It’s a wonder the Lady Duchess Carmella Duke hasn’t decided to conquer the 14 square miles that we occupy. I feel rather like a rebel, sometimes.

         “Mother, must I really go? You know how much I hate these meetings. I mean, he re-administers the administration every few DAYS!” I tell her matter-of-factly.

         “Yes, I know, and I agree. He gets tedious, but if we don’t show, the village will turn against us.” She says, as if it matters. We’re already outcasts. I have a Hold with Water. My mother has a Hold with Earth. I see her frolicking in the valley with the Earth-Creatures, the wooden deer and the earthen kittens. Sure, I swim with liquid frogs and water cats, but at least I do that when I am absolutely sure nobody is watching.

         I roll my eyes at my mom. Sure, like it really matters. Even if they DO turn against us, it’s not like they’d be brave enough to attempt to hurt us. We’re powerful. Most people here are People of the God, which is basically a group against magic and Holds and the Lady Duchess Carmella Duke because they believe she shouldn’t wield so much power, even in her dreams.

         “Mom, somehow I don’t think it’ll matter. It’s not like they’re brave enough to try and harm us.” I say to her.

         “I know, but it’s best to keep up a shield, isn’t it? Even a flimsy one is better than none.” She retorts.

         “Fine.” I say. Sure, I’ve grown up friendless and hopeless, but at least I can always talk to the Duchess. She’s always here, as she always knows what’s happening. She’s pretty much a Goddess on her Northern Isles. Sometimes I wish I lived in the capitol city, Eyrer. Then I could just walk around and live the life I want to, completely immortal. But you have to be chosen by the Duchess to live in her capitol city. Otherwise everybody would be immortal and the land would become far overpopulated.

         I get up off my stool in the kitchen. I look mournfully at the fire crackling merrily in the hearth. Wish Heshta, the goddess of the home in the Northern Isles, had a little pity. Our home doesn’t do well. Most people don’t really recognize the Northern Gods existences. No point. It’s said the Lady Duchess holds more power than all the Gods combined.

         Moving on, I walked out of the house. It’s more of a hut, really. Small, round, three rooms. Two bedrooms and a kitchen. Really not much to it. It’s got a thatched roof, though. That’s always a nice addition.

         I walk out to the gathering. People part in front of me. There isn’t another teen in the village like me; One who has a Hold, I mean. At least, not that I know of. I guess it would be known if there was, but still. There probably isn’t.

         My mother joined me at the edge of the crowd. I realize now she’s tailing behind me. I stop suddenly. She walks around to my side. She whispers in my ear.

         “This isn’t an administering.” She tells me. “Be prepared to defend yourself. There’s a pond over there.” She jerks her head off to the left. I glance. It’s a shallow pond. I remember playing in it a lot when I was younger. In the center of the pond is a black cover. It’s covering something that seems to be moving slightly.

         I watch the Priest come forward. He’s wearing an enormous white hat that looks like a pillar. He has heavy white robes on with gold trim. In his hands are a book and an unlit torch.

         He approaches the pond. He starts to speak.

         “In the name of God and in the name of everything Holy, I condemn this witch to death. She has decided to communicate with the Dark Goddess and all things unholy. She has a so-called “Hold” over Air! She will die for her messing. I condemn her to death!” By now, the Priest has reached the pond. With his last words, the black curtain is drawn back.

         It’s a little girl tied to a stake. She looks like she’s barely ten.