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Brone increased his step as he made his way across the hall, the carpet flushing a blood red as his footsteps were muffled by its presence. He reached the end where a door stood, rigid, uncertainty flashed before the man yet his face remained calm and composed. Taking a deep breath he rapped his knuckles on the door before re-arranging his tie and shuffling his suit. A brisk ‘Come in’ sounded from the room and Brone slowly took the handle, opening the door. He stepped inside. Strands of light trickled from an oil lamp which resided on the wall, its flame flickering every so often. A withered man perched upon a throne-like chair; his face lined with aged wrinkles followed Brone as he strode over and fell to his knees, head tilted forward.
“Master,” he rasped.
The man inclined his head, “Get up.”
“Of-f course sir,” Brone stuttered as he stood to his full height. The man looked at him, a small smirk plaguing his creased face.
“Sit, Brone, I believe we have some business to attend to,” his eyebrows arched into a stern frown, “and we have no time to stand around chit-chatting.”
“Yes sir, of course sir.”
Brone took the seat opposite the man; a broad oak desk lay between them, piled with various papers and tattered books.
“Tell me, Brone,” his booming voice shattered the silence, making Brone lift his watery blue eyes, “have you seen this?”
The man extended his hand which held a disheveled looking piece of paper, which Brone took and scrutinized thoroughly before handing it back.
“You understand what you have to do,” the man breathed.
Brone shifted his weight before answering, “Yes.”
“Good,” the man grinned, revealing a decaying set of teeth, “Now, Brone, I wanted to show you…it’s nearly complete you see,” excitement possessed the man’s red eyes as he lurched forward and trotted towards the picture frame at the end of the room, his scarlet tail twisting as he went. The picture, hung in an ornate gold frame, held the portrait of the late Queen of Iejir, his beloved wife. The man stroked the ladies golden locks and whispered indistinct words; the woman in the frame smiled down at her husband before pressing the rich ruby which swung from her necklace. At her touch, the portrait swung open exposing a tall door, its handle the same gold as the framed picture. The King turned the handle and gently nudged the door open and walked into the small room. Brone followed suit. A glow emanated from a chest residing in the far corner and as the King made his way towards it, Brone felt his hairs standing on end as his stubby tail lowered to his legs.
“Come look Brone, only another seven are needed before they can be awoken,” the King’s voice shivered with a desperate need. With a small click he opened the chest and a sudden rise of sickness threatened to overcome Brone, yet he managed to hold it down. Inside the chest lay a pile of tails, each holding its own unique colour, some more matured than others. “This is the gate to the Sepa, the spirit dwellers,” the King turned to Brone, “do you understand the importance of this duty? Get your Sthyri together and make sure that they complete the job; otherwise they’ll end up turning into dust, as will you. Now if you don’t mind, Brone, I’m having a meeting with the leader from the council of Yresim soon and I need to make sure that there is a lot of fresh blood available for our guests.”
He quickly ushered Brone out so that he was standing in the exact same place he started – in the hallway carpeted with blood.
“Don’t disappoint me Brone or there will be consequences,” said the King before slamming the door in his face. He then quickly retrieved the parchment inked with instructions and threw it into the open fire and watched as it writhed and burned, like so many of his victims.
“It won’t be long my friends,” he murmured and with that King Telrac laughed.
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Kaida
I pulled on some figure hugging jeans and a baggy grey top and flung my hair into a messy ponytail which was so long that it ended just above my waist. “Come on, Arwen, otherwise we’ll be late to first class,” I bossed, hurriedly throwing my school books into my bag. “Ok, ok, seriously we need to be more organized,” she said as she leapt through the door with me bounding behind her. We got to first class with not a minute to spare and rushed into our usual seats at the back of the class, hot and out of breath. I grinned at Arwen who returned the smile.
“Good morning class,” said Belda, one of the newest Maidens, who strode into the classroom just as I began getting out my history textbook. She was pretty, perfect and new and all the boys had been drooling over her for the past week. She smiled at us.
“Today we shall be looking at page 62,” she clicked her fingers and an image of two people stood behind her, looking as large as life. I tried to resist the urge to laugh. They were both naked, apart from some pieces of cloth which covered their modesty. I noticed the necklaces that hung from their necks and felt for my own. When we got our so called “scholarship” into this school, we were all given a necklace which we are permitted to wear at all times. It gives us protection, and holds the voice of the Goddess Isha (although that seems to be a myth as far as I’m concerned). I studied my necklace; it was long, and held on its silver chain was a pendant, a light blue crystal embedded with the figure of an angel - our emblem.
“-now what is…different about these two people compared with, let’s say this person?” Belda continued as she clicked her fingers again, making a third person step behind her.
“They hold the mark,” a scrawny boy in the front row said, his weedy voice only just audible. I scanned the first two people and noticed the mark that lay where their hearts would be. Squishing my eyes into narrow slits, I scrutinized the marks; there was a delicate flower, some sort of rose coming out of a side-ways eight.
I could feel my heart starting to thump, beating louder and faster. Did they know something? Could they have suspected that Emery and I were soul mates? Actually, thinking about it, where was he?
Questions buzzed round my head making me nauseous and slightly dizzy.
Belda smiled at him, “they hold the mark of a soul mate.”
I blacked out.
YOU ARE READING
Outcasts
FantasyWill love blind her path? The corrupt council of Yresim, one of the four Fates, has turned from the Grand Elders and the Goddess Isha, and is plotting. But to who have they turned? Strange things are starting to happen in the Seven Realms: disappera...