Becoming Master

Prologue

Shouts filled a house as two adults argued, standing inches from each other, their arms thrown up in exasperation. A small child was curled in a ball in the farthest corner from the couple, shivering, and scared that this fight would get worst, like it had so many other nights.

They were all in the sitting room, under the many candles hanging on the wall. The flames flickered, casting uncomfortable shadows over the room, hiding the corners in darkness.

The child’s malnourished body became smaller with the mention of her name. It was her father, spouting obscenities at both women. He pointed a meaty hand at his daughter, getting closer to his wife, “If you weren’t out whoring around, maybe I wouldn’t have to look at that brat so often!”

His wife was reduced to tears, “You don’t understand David! It’s hard with you being gone all the time, and never being there for me.”

“So you have to go sleep with every man that puts his hands on you?”

“That’s not how it is!” she tried to touch her husband’s face, but her attempt was slapped away.

“Don’t touch me,” he pushed her away, exhausting his unused muscles.

Unlike many men of homeland, he had a probing belly caused from the many years of drinking excessively, and a balding head. He was everything but a perfect picture of a husband. He was an embarrassment in his wife’s eyes, and she was a misfortune in his. She didn’t feel loved, so she found the affection she desired so much in the arms of other lover.

“You whore.”

She shook her head and pulled her red coat tighter around her curvy figure before storming out of the house.

He watched the now empty doorway for many minutes before turning to the child; he grasped a glass bottle off the floor and broke it against the wall, “Get out of here before I kill you.”

Not waiting a second longer, the child scrambled up, dashed out of the room and up the stairs, careful not to step on the loud boards. As she rose, she felt something fly by her and crash against the wall inches from her head. It was the bottle. Ignoring all her previous restraint, she dashed up the stairs, even on the noisy ones that bent under her weight.

Once reaching her room, she slammed the door shut and slid down it, returning to her previous position on the floor, too scared to cry.

That was the last night she ever saw her mother. And all she knew of her was the rumors that spread across the village like the plaque.

She slept with the musician.

That whore, doesn’t she know her place? Her husband must be so ashamed of her.

I would never show my face after doing what she did.

And that must be why she ran away with the merchant.

Trash. That’s what she is.

A week after her mother left, the child walked down the dirt path to reach the traders that always set up stalls in the center of the village, overhearing the people talk.

She had to walk past the women that used to be her mother’s friends, but the moment that her muses were revealed, they turned their dressed backs on her, as well as their biting comments.

Now she was followed by the shadow of shame that her mother had left behind after running away without her.

When she saw the group of women, she bowed her head and picked up her pace.

“I wonder if the child will follow the steps of her mother, their appearance is alike, why should their habits differ?” 

Today the ladies were dressed in beautiful skirts that rounded their hips and fell to their ankles in expensive lace; their hair was tied up with ribbons and braids. The image of a perfect woman.

The one that spoke was dressed in a brown dress; she lifted her matching fan when she noticed the child glaring at her.

“But that must be the way all foreigners act,” the same lady said loudly, “none of us pure bloods would do such a disgraceful act.”

Although she did not know what she meant, she understood that they were speaking of how her mother and she were so different from the rest of the people she knew. Unlike them, mother and daughter had midnight hair that was thick, high cheekbones, and large dark eyes, and chocolate skin, with broad bones and a sturdy body with curves made for bearing children. She had always seen her mother as an exotic beauty that carried herself with pride. Like a princess from a faraway kingdom.

Everyone else had pale skin and hair just as light, with bright eyes. The women looked like porcelain dolls ready to break at the lightest touch, happy to hide their small curves under tight corsets and wide skirts. Just like they hid their snake-like comments.

Another difference from her mother, she would always be blunt about her opinions.

When she was far enough away from the ladies she began to run, focused on getting herself some loafs of bread before her father came back from the pub and beat her. Her tiny body wove its way through the large masses of shoppers. She sidestepped and ducked, intent on avoiding anyone disgusted stares. A stall was placed near the center of the group, and when she spotted it, her pace increased the closer she got.

“Three loaves of bread please,” she whispered, placing the coins she owed, careful to not meet the owners eyes. The loaves were handed to her and she quickly turned to leave when a hand forcefully grabbed her shoulder and yanked her around.

“You little snake, just like your mother,” she didn’t even have to look at the person to know it was her father, “Were you sleeping around to find that money? Or did you steal it from me?”

Her heart stopped for a few seconds, “No… the money, it-it was some change that mom left me.”

“Her whore money?” he grabbed the bread and threw it on the ground, stomping on it, “You should know that that money is useless here.”

“But you haven’t brought any food home ever since she left! I haven’t eaten more than old food in weeks…”

His slapped her on the face; the sound silenced the once loud street. “Money to spoil yourselves with, that’s all you want, like your mother.”

The pain seared through her face, “Being like mother is better than a useless father like you!” she turned and ran away from her father and all she ever knew.

“And don’t come back!” he yelled after her, “Do it and I’ll put a bullet through your head.” She heard him laugh and the rest of the people in the center as well.

The days that followed were slow, the cold nights chilled her to the jutting bones in her body, and hunger weakened her day by day. The abandoned cabin near the edge of the village was the only place where she could find a little protection from the elements.

One day it did seem like she was going to die. What was left of her only reached halfway past a bridge before collapsing and was unable to rise. That was when a shadow fell over her.

“Gramps, she has the gift, right?”

She managed to look up and see a young boy, the only thing she noticed before her mind gave up on her was the bright green eyes he had.

“Yes and quite an unusual one at that.”