Renagade

Part 1

 Forward:

All great stories have a beginning, a middle, and an end. This story does too, but not like a great novel. No. These parts are messy. This story is messy and the characters are the worst. If I were you, even though I wrote this story, I would put this down and walk away. This story wants to be told and needs to be told, but not to you.

The person that consumes this story ought to be forever changed, if they aren't then that falls on my shoulders, but if it does change you, Heaven help you. Heaven help me. This Evelyn will haunt you in your dreams, in the quietness of your heart. How she haunts you will ultimately be determined by you. Will she be your friend, your lover or perhaps even your enemy? Who knows.

Don't say I didn't warn you, after all I did ask you to put this story away. Keep away.

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The coolness of the stone felt nice upon her face. It was smooth and warm, unlike the rest of the marbled cell. The pounding of her heart seemed to echo in the bare chamber. Lit by some flameless light far above, the walls paled as they rose above her. In this small room, there was no lack of ceiling.

She tried to recall this part of the Precipice, but she couldn't. She had only been a young girl when her father had brought her to this place. Had this section been visible from the outside? The courtyard that she loves so much as a child? The earthy scent of her pool seemed to indicate that she was underground, but dwarves had left this place long ago, and had retreated far into the earth.

She let out a soft groan as a naseau swept over her body. She could feel the beads of sweat trickling down her back into the stiff and dirty clothingi she wore. Eveyln had lost count of the days she had been imprisoned by her Father. It could have been months or even years. After all, her hair had grown back after that awful night. It was nearly to her chin now and the once beautiful gown of blue lace was now tattered and stained. She closed her eyes and forced herself to not think of that night. It had often haunted her dreams when she had first been imprisoned here, but now it had grown film and memories had bled together. She missed her so much...

Her body ached. Whatever sickness she had caught made her cold and hot and downright miserable. Somewhere, in her drugged and illness fogged mind, she wondered for the upteenth time if this was how she was going to die in this cell. Alone and sick. She wouldn't put it past her father. He always had a knack for the inhumane.

She rested her eyes, and started when the sharp grate of the small door opened and a food tray was pushed in. As soon as it had opened, the black, leathered hand disappeared and closed the grate. A wave of sickness washed over her and she wretched into the pail, next to the pool. She sagged against the wall; her blood pounding through her, as the smell of fresh bread permeated the small chamber.

After a few moments, Evelyn forced herself to crawl over to the tray of food. The bread, still warm from the ovens, nearly made her gag, but she took it anyway. Unlike the meals before though, in place of her meat, was a small vial, filled with dark liquid. She tucked it into the folds of her tunic and took the cup of water in both hands. They sought to cure her from this illness...she would rather die, then accept their help.

She stared into the milky water and sighed. They were content to drug her even when she was upon death's door. Shaking her head, she gulped the liquid. The familiar soft spice made her lips upturn. This was her life now. She felt the edges of sleep tug on her and she almost gave in. Leaning against the wall, she stared ahead at the smooth marble. The soft lapping of the pool, sang to her quietly. She let the silence fill her and still her body. She knew that sleep was close, but she wanted this peace to last a little longer. It was moments like this that she craved. The inbetween period of awake and unconsiousness. It was almost like she was standing on a precipice of change...and yet she wasn't.

Sleep threatened her, but at least she wasn't as nauseous, she conceeded. The wall, smooth against her warmed slightly, as if warmed by a fire on the other side. She sniffed, her nose had run for five meal cycles, and wiped it on her crusted dress sleeve. How in the Dark had she ever gotten ill? She hadn't been around anyone, let alone seen anyone for a very long time. She wished them death silently. As she closed her eyes, she whispered. "I'm coming for you father. I will kill you," and gave in to sleep. Her mind was a jumbled and it took her a few moments to adjust to her new surroundings. Like every cycle, she was lying in a field of sweet grass; the sun shined and warmed her up-turned face. In the far distance she saw the Life-Tree, swaying in the breeze, the red of its leaves, shimmering. The heady scent of sweet rose blossoms hung in the air.

"I was beginning to think that you weren't going to come," She turned and smiled at the elf. He caught her eye and smiled, cocking his head to one side.

"I will always come," she whispered before leaning into him, and wrapping her arms around his body. He leaned down and buried his face in her hair. He was solid as a tree and comforting. He was her comfort in the coldness of her chamber and the reason, though she would never confess it to him, that she had stopped trying to harm herself, at every possible moment. There had been a time, not so very long ago that she had tried to bash her skull to pieces, the lack of human interaction and monotony of her own self seemed too much to bear, but then he had come, not for long periods of time, but when she was asleep he seemed to be with her, just between the veil.

"You smell good, like...like fresh cream, I think," He pulled away, his arms still on her shoulders, a little smile playing on lips. She felt her cheeks heat and looked down, kicking at a small grey stone. Everything in her, wanted to kiss him...but deep down she knew that this wasn't real. This was only a halfway dream state. Nothing in here mattered, she knew that and she knew that he knew. Chauncy paused and took her by her hand, squeezing it gently. "We will get out, Evelyn. By the Mother, we will get out," He squeezed her hand again and tilted her chin to look at him.

"Chauncy, there is no way. You know that," She paused, caught in his steeled gaze. This was the only happiness that she could gain, knowing that this was her escape, this was as close to freedom as she could ever have. "He will kill you," she whispered and the elf just shook his head, and they walked in silence, his hand in hers, tethering her to this pretend reality.

"Do you know why they call it the Life-Tree?" They neared the red tree, the strange white swirls in the trunk seemed to glitter in the unending light. Though he had told her a thousand times about the Life-Tree, she never tired of it. She shook her head. He took his seat on the ground and left her to examine the dark berries of the tree.

"When there was only death in the great Void of the world, Manholm Par Vollen, the King of all, came from across the Unending Ocean bore the corpse of his Bride, Leanna to our shores..." Chauncy went on with the story. The berries of the tree were dark, nearly the color of IronBlood that once ruled the lands with a tight fist, and their infamous ariel calvaries. She had only met an IronBlood in combat once, and that day still haunted her. It was one of the hardest fights of her life. She shook her head, as if to rid herself of Derek Par.

She would not think of such dark things now. This was her time with Chauncy. Nothing could come between that. These were the times where she could dream and revel in the delight of life. She felt the bark of the tree and felt the magic beneath, like the humming of a thousand bees. The tree, it seemed to enjoy Chauncy's recitation of the old story.

Reaching up, she pulled lightly on the berry, plucking it from it's branch. As she examined it, the juice from the stem ran down, nearly blood-like, staining her thumb and forefinger. "He wept. His body wracked with sobs of ages past, the tears staining the dark ground before him. They say that the light of the sun touched the ground, lighting the darkness and the sky boiled, to see their King weep..." She only half listened, still examining the berry.

Had there always been berries on the Life-Tree? She couldn't remember. They had been here so often, nestled under the tree, sparing, laughing or simply talking. How had she never noticed the blackish berries. It was covered in them. Tiny obsidian jewels, to decorate the silver and ruby-ed tree. It was simply beautiful, a fitting grave marker for the beloved of a King...a god.

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