Chosen

Chapter Eight

More and more days passed since the party in the distillery. I hadn't seen Liam again and was starting to breathe a little easier because of it.

I was just outside the palace, on my way home, when I caught sight of a loosely assemble group making their way down the street. One was holding a ball that he tossed up into the air and caught as he walked. The ball was spotted black and white. No, not spots. Some sort of geometrical design. I stared at it, knowing I'd seen it before, but not able to pull out what sport it belonged to. Concentrating so hard on the ball that was getting farther and farther away, I stepped out into the center of the road and failed to see the person coming up behind me. His chest collided with my shoulder, and he let out a loud "Oof!"

I started apologizing immediately and profusely, but he smiled as he rubbed the point of impact. "S'alright. I'll live. Might have a bruise in the morning. But eh, what's one more battle scar?"

"Sorry," I said again, cringing. "I was looking at something. I don't usually -"

"What? Crash into people on the street? Me neither." He grinned, revealing a row of big teeth.

"Yeah, I'll try to be more careful. I'm Jesse, by the way."

"I know who you are. We met you the other night in the distillery."

"We did?" His face did look a little familiar, but I couldn't remember his name. I rubbed the back of my head - a habit I'd picked up to fill in the spaces whenever my mind failed me. Like rubbing it could help to conjure the memory. "I met a lot of people that night," I said in a low voice.

"You were gettin' a lot of attention, weren't you? Ah, it's fine. I'm Donal. Pleased to meet you. Again." He stuck out his hand, and we shook. His friends who'd gone ahead called his name, and he yelled, "I'm comin'!" back at them. He gave me a speculative once over. "Hey, you don't play football, do you? We're recently short a man since ol'Tom decided his time would be better spent workin' on his woodcarvings." His eyes flicked skyward at the mention of the woodcarvings. "Need a replacement so the teams will be even."

"Football..." The word had barely finished rolling off my tongue with another clicked into place. "Oh, soccer!" The black and white ball was a soccer ball. Though I was sure I'd seen the sport played at least once in my life, I couldn't recall ever being the one playing it. "No, I don't play."

"Ah, don't worry about that. It's easy enough. We'll show you," Donal assured me.

I glanced over my shoulder at others who were waiting for him. Their faces all seemed eager and welcoming. It was a nice change. "Yeah, alright," I said. I gestured toward the books in my arm. "Let me just drop this off at home...change my clothes..."

He nodded vigorously and then bellowed, "You lads go on ahead. I'm gonna walk with Jesse and show him the way."

~***~

"We play on Fridays," Donal explained as we walked. We'd run by my house and were on our way to the football field.

Everything in the village was built to suit the undulating mountain underneath, but the field was a large expanse of flat land. Donal's friends were running down the length of it, kicking the ball to each other. "It's so...big," I told him.

He smiled. "Milady had it built for us."

I wanted to laugh at the word "built.". Magic was the more likely cause. It was the only way to explain the wide, perfectly flat, green field carved into the rocky terrain. Goals stood at either side, constructed from rough wood planks and what looked like fishing nets.

"Two teams of eight now," Donal said. "Three more for each side, and we'll have proper teams. Sticks, maybe even a bloody league soon enough. With team colors and everything."