Gifted [UNEDITED]

Chapter One

     Aora poked at her food, a plate of blue berry pie and harsh grapes. Her face rested on her left hand, and her coral blue eyes rolled every now and then.
   
    "You're not hungry?" her father asked her, chewing a piece of pig meat on the side of his mouth.
   
    "I'm not" Aora answered him. Her voice was low "I don't feel like eating"
   
    "Why?" Borath asked, his coral blue eyes fixed on her. His face was straight and his nose was pointed. His long white hair rested on his shoulders.
   
    "Nothing. I'm just not hungry". She pushed her long curly hair behind her long ears, the red locks were full and rich.
   
    "Is this because I won't let you go to the academy?" Borath questioned, tilting his head to the left. He took a sip of his black wine, "I told you, I can't let you go"
   
    "Why?!" Aora shot at him. She looked at his face and saw anger growing on it, his forehead had reddened and his eyebrows lowered. "I'm sorry" she apologized, lowering her head in embarrassment.
   
    "I don't want to lose you. You're the only one I have now, your mother is dead" he told her, in the most comforting way possible. Aora's mother had died young. She had died when Aora was just three. She fought in The Great war, she was a Red Falcon; special soldiers in the Miaddrian Army. She had gone with some other Falcons to scout and probe the dwarves' defenses, but they were ambushed by enemy forces and killed.
   
    "But I'm not my mother" she said. "I can handle myself. I'll be extra careful, I'll train harder, I won't let anything bad happen, I'll be—"
   
    "Aora I said NO!" Borath shouted, his fingers clenched into a fist on the long dinning table. Silence fell on the dinning hall, even the chairs and table were shaken.
   
    "I hate you" Aora murmured, sniffling. Borath pushed away from the table, and moved to her side, "it's okay, don't cry" he consoled.
   
    "Leave me alone! I hate you! I hate my mother! I hate you both!" Aora yelled, her sniffles started producing tears and she was sobbing.
   
    Borath looked at his daughter, he felt his hands turn cold, but a teardrop made it warm again. It was from his eyes, "I love you Aora", he told her, hot tears sliding slowly from his eyes to his chin. He held her in his firm hands, she was still crying, he kissed her on her hair and pulled away "but I can't let you go". Aora said nothing, she just continued in tears. "Kamirel will be with you soon" he told her. "I have a meeting to attend now". He made for the door, leaving Aora all alone in the dead dinning hall, it was long and wide. The table was long and its chairs were littered by it's sides and one chair at both ends.
   
    Aora lifted her head and dried her tears, she still couldn't eat. She sniffled and mumbled some words "Karem iscar goreth". Almost immediately a ball of flames started growing from her palms, it was beautiful, and yellowish-red. It didn't feel hot as normal fire would, it didn't burn her as normal fire would. That was because it wasn't normal fire, it was Old Fire. The wielders of Old Fire were long dead, the last people to wield Old Fire were from the Oliroth clan and died over a hundred years ago.
   
    "Aora—" a voice from behind called. She quickly closed her hand, her heart skipped a beat and she answered "Yes? What is it?". She knew who it was, the voice was too familiar, it was hard not to recognize it.
   
    "Your father, he sent me. To watch... I mean to guard you" Kamirel continued. Aora had told him never to say 'watch', and the last time he said it, she had gotten into a nasty fight with him. She didn't speak to him for weeks, and always yelled at him at every slightest mistake.
   
    "I'll be with you in a minute" she replied. Kamirel understood and strolled to the door, hilt in hand and waited outside. "Oh good, he didn't see me. Thank The Celestial King"
   
    She stood up and took a deep breath, "Kamirel!" she called. Almost immediately the soldier came rushing in. He was stout and tall, his eyes were green and his hair was dark brown, and long, reaching his back. His chin looked like they were carved by a hundred Celestials. "I'm ready now", she told him. He bowed his head stretching his hand, Aora took it and he led her out to the courtyard where two elks were waiting, saddled and fed. One of them was Erikath, Aora's favorite, she messed up her mane and kissed her on the head, the elk snorted and turned its head away. Kamirel chuckled and mounted his elk, it didn't have a name, he didn't believe in naming elks, he believed it childish.
   
    "So what are we doing today Aora?", Kamirel asked. They were journeying through the Southern Isle,  the busiest place in Miaddra. Aora saw two elves arguing about the price of bead pies, "I will sell these for ten bronze lions", one of the elves said.
   
    "No, you always sell your bead pies for more. From the last end to the dead end, you're the most expensive baker", the other elf replied, pointing furiously at the baker.
   
    "But you know, you know what I go through to make these bead pies. The baker's at the last end of the Southern Isle don't use the same ingredients as I do, and the ones at the dead end are no better", the baker replied.
   
    "Say what you want, I'll pay no more than five bronze lions".
   
    The argument went on and on, Aora tightened her grip on the reins, as if afraid to fall. "I don't know, father never lets me do anything fun", she answered.
   
    "What do you mean, he never lets you do anything fun", Kamirel asked. His green eyes darting left and right. Aora noticed, she paused and looked at him, "why are you doing that?", she asked him.
   
    Kamirel stopped too, looking flabbergasted. "Doing what?", he replied.
   
    "That thing... The thing with your eyes...", she explained. Kamirel still looked lost, with a very blank expression on his face. "Forget it, what were you saying again?"
   
    "What do you mean—", he tried answering, but Aora cut in. "Yes, that. I mean he never lets me do anything, not even go out on my own. He doesn't let me attend the academy, he doesn't let me roam free like other elves my age. Why does he hate me?"
   
    "Aora, he doesn't hate you. He loves you" Kamirel started. He gave a pause, checking to see if Aora would let him finish, usually she doesn't, she cuts in every chance she gets whenever he brings up the subject of fatherly love. "He only wants to protect you, he cares so much about you. You're the only one he has left in the world, you know this."
   
    "Then why doesn't he let me do what I want, why doesn't he trust me? I don't expect you to understand, you don't have any parents", she didn't realize how fast the words slipped out of her mouth. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—", she tried correcting.
   
    "It's fine, I understand what you mean", Kamirel told her, "an orphan like me could never understand".
   
    "Damn it Kamirel! I don't mean it that way!", she yelled, barging her teeth. She stopped when she realized everyone was looking at her, it felt very embarrassing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way."
   
    "Don't worry so much about it, come I'd like to show you something" Kamirel urged. Sending his elk into a light throttle, the crowd before him cleared gradually as he approached. The signet on the elk was a major reason for the clearance, it was the signet of the Miaddrian Army; a white lion head.
   
    "Where are we going?!", Aora called out after him, riding her elk closely behind.
   
    "Just follow me!", he answered.
   
    They rode through the busy crowds of the Southern Isle, out the gates of the dead end, and into the plain fields leading to the academy. "Why are we going to the academy", Aora asked him.
   
    "You'll see!", he answered.
   
    "I still don't understand why you have brought me here", the young redhead elf complained.
   
    "Let's go inside, I want to show you something" Kamirel replied, nodding subtly at the guards at the gate. They wore green enameled leather and ring mail armor, and gold colored helmets, their spears were long, an inch above their head. They had cold faces with no expression, as was the custom of the Miaddrian Army.
   
    Aora was amazed, she had never gone inside the academy before. She only ever saw it from her castle towers, but now that she was inside, it was beautiful. Up ahead she could see the hall of the fallen, a large and tall structure, there the portrait of every soldier who ever fought and died in battle was kept. To the east was the class quarters, where the Raegbloods received classes on the use of their powers. To the south, she could see an open field, a large expanse of greenland, stretching for over ten miles, that was the training grounds. There the Raegbloods and the Commons both train together on combat and battle maneuver skills.
   
    As they rode through the academy, Aora noticed that at intervals, troops of trainees marched past them. She knew they were trainees because, they looked her age, and their casual clothes gave it away. They all had the same set of clothes on, both male and female alike, black leather trousers and white shirts, and they were very dirty. She also noticed that they always had a song dancing along their mouths, a song of pain, like they knew they were going to die, and they were mourning.
   
    "I can see you're enjoying the place." Kamirel teased, "it's stood for more than five hundred years, it's been here for five generations. Once the dwarves broke through city defence, and the students of the academy gave their lives to defend the place."
   
    "It's beautiful, really beautiful. I only see the gates and tall towers from my castle, it's great to actually be here", Aora told him. For once she was truly happy, she had always had to fake smiles, fake laughter, all for the sake of her father. But now, she was happy, the air made her happy, the fact that she was in the academy made her truly happy. "So what is it you wanted to show me, we should hurry before my dad finds out I'm here."
   
    "It's right in there", he said, pointing at the hall of the fallen. "and, how do you suppose your father will find out."
   
    "He's my father, I know him more than anyone else" she said, and laughed, true laughter.
   
    They arrived at the doors to the hall. There Kamirel met his old teacher, an old elf of eighty-eight. He had fought in many wars, The Great war, The war of the three, The Blind war, and many others. He was seated right at the entrance observing the environment from there, he could hardly see, but his hearing was impeccable, and his sense of smell was equally as good. "Is that you Kamirel?", he asked, his voice was cold and shaky. He was dressed in a grey robe, and he sat on a rocking chair.
   
    "It is, you old sluggard", Kamirel answered, rushing to his side to hug him. The old elf gave him a hard punch, "this old sluggard still has some fight left in him". Kamirel could only rub his face and laugh. "Boriam, how are things these days?", Kamirel asked, but the old elf was indifferent.
   
    "Tell me why you are here, I don't have time to waste", Boriam remarked. Which is an irony because all Boriam ever did was seat and watch, the academy feeds him, clothes him, and houses him.
   
    "I brought my friend, I wanted to show her somethings", Kamirel answered. The old elf nodded and waved at him, telling him to run along. Kamirel smiled, Boriam had always been an elf of few words, he hardly even smiled, but he was a good elf. Once he risked his life just to save Kamirel from the dark elves.
   
    "So that right there is Keirath of the sea, he fought in The Blind war. He killed more than a hundred shadow-riders, he was a great elf" Kamirel explained, pointing at the portrait of an elf, it showed a young elf of no more than twenty.
   
    "That there is Imarra, the great dwarf Slayer, she killed countless number of dwarves in The Great war. She died in the last battle of The War of the three."
   
    "Why are you showing me all these portraits, do you want to irritate me the more?" Aora asked him, on the verge of flaring up again.
   
    "Listen well, and watch closely. There is a pattern I want you to notice", he replied, holding her hand. "There is the great Gnorim, the only elf to singlehandedly hold the gates against dark elf forces. He also killed a number of them in The war of Lungard. He was also commander of the troops that raided The Shadow fort, bringing an end to the Famine war."
   
    "Why are you showing me all these elves, I don't see any pattern, there is nothing to see", Aora complained.
   
    Kamirel sighed and shook his head. "All these elves I have mentioned, and the other elves you may have noticed, are no more than the age of twenty five. The Miaddrian Army is one that uses its young soldiers, they prefer sending young soldiers to die."
   
    "I see it now, why have you shown me this pattern", the young elf asked, her eyes were filled with curiousity, and her fingers were restless.
   
    "Your mother was age twenty one when she died in The Great war. Your father was age nineteen when he went on his first mission, I am age twenty, and I am in the army already. You are just fourteen, do you now see why your father forbids you coming to the academy?"
   
    Aora was silent, she had no words. Her heart broke when she remembered the trainees she had seen earlier, her heart broke when she remembered their song. Those young elves would soon lose their lives, they hadn't even started living. "But why?", she finally asked.
   
    "I don't really know, it's been that way for a long time now. The youths are sent to the battle fronts, while the old elves slack off at home."
   
    "Let's go home now, it's getting late." Aora commanded, she had heard enough already. She felt so sad for troubling her father so much, she felt angry. Angry at herself, angry at The Council, angry at everything. "Let's go, now", she said again, turning to leave.
   
    Kamirel followed behind her, with hurried steps and sudden fear. He had ignited anger in Aora, now he was afraid it would burn him. They passed Boriam without looking back, without acknowledging his presence. It was only when they mounted their elks that Kamirel waved at the old elf, he didn't even wait for a reply. He just rounded his horse and chased after Aora who was almost at the gates.
   
    When they were through the gates, Aora slowed down, she stopped ahead of Kamirel and waited for him. "Let us take the Northern Isle home, I want a long journey. My father will definitely not be home by now, I don't want to stay home alone.
   
    "But it's already getting dark, anything can happen on the streets" Kamirel protested.
   
    "I said we are taking the Northern Isle!" Aora flared, breathing a little bit faster than before. Kamirel was silent, Aora noticed, she wanted to apologise, but she was too angry to.
   
    Before dark, they were through the gates of the Northern Isle. Even in anger Aora couldn't help but notice the manner in which the different buildings were constructed. The streets were not as busy as that of the Southern Isle, it was not as peaceful as that of the Central Isle either. It was just a mix of both, and it was beautiful. It had the same structure as the Southern Isle, different buildings that looked the same stretched for more than twelve miles. The streets here were neat, and they had boulevards, beautiful flowers plucked from The Den.
   
    Aora saw soldiers on patrol, about four of them, she liked the way they walked in a tight formation and marched uniformly. For a moment she forgot her anger. They turned left, entering another street, Aora saw the statue of the first King of Miaddra. It was huge, the statue showed an elf of about forty years old. Her father told her stories of the first King, he led The Blind war. He chased the shadow-riders from where Miaddra now stood. Then the High-elves were nomads, they had no place of their own until King Miadd led the war.
   
    "A pretty sight. Yes?" Kamirel said, trying to bring up a conversation. But Aora said nothing, she only continued admiring the statue till they passed it. They said nothing to each other till they entered the next street, there Aora saw children playing. Hot tears rolled from her eyes, she sniffled and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She remembered her childhood, her years of watching the world from the towers. She had no friends during her childhood, even now she had no friends. The only difference was that now, she knew a lot of people.
   
    Before the day darkened completely, they reached Borath's castle. The two didn't say anything to each other even then. Aora just rode into the castle, and Kamirel watched. It was only when she went completely in that he left.