The Dark Levy by Alaric Longward

Author:Alaric Longward [Longward, Alaric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BluA
Publisher: Hardhill Productions
Published: 2015-10-10T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

We faced some more brutal months. The days were so tiring, so anxious, and we were pushed so far we had no energy to do anything else than eat. Alexei’s and Dmitri’s makeshift rag ball gathered dust in the corner; we slept the sleep of the dead in heaps, little heeding our welts and hunger. Even Albine curled next to me one night. We learned the power, gradually developing ourselves to hold more and more, and I suffered Euryale’s teachings, even if her silence was gratifying. She was pensive at times, then full of energy on other days, then suddenly brooding and finally happy, her moods alternating madly. I thought she grew more and more impatient in her teaching, for there were nights I thought something was broken inside me, despite my healing ability.

Yet, little by little, we could hold power for a longer time, soon, much more of it and a little more effortlessly.

Then, one afternoon, I was not broken by Euryale’s teachings, but instead she crouched next to me. She stroked my cheek. ‘You can hold twice as much as you used to. More than the others. Thank me later.’

‘Yes, mistress,’ I said with a pained hiss.

‘Now, heal up, pigeon, for we shall travel the land. There will be an opportunity we must take, people we must satisfy, and your freedom looms that much closer. You will be tested now, lovely one, and the Tears shall be tested a few days from now, as the year ends. Be strong. But first, as I said, I have a need of you.’

‘Yes, mistress,’ I agreed and she moved with purpose for the end of the room.

There, she was rummaging in a trunk, old with rusted hinges, but what she pulled out of there was not rusty at all. She took out practicable breeches, made of soft, brown leather. A tunic, she produced a tunic out of the trunk. It was a blue and velvety thing of wonder, for it had pearls sewn to its hem and sleeves. As she piled it on my lap, I could nearly weep for the beautiful garments, how soft they felt. She grinned at me. Finally, she pulled out a cloak, simple, dark, and high boots of dark leather. And a belt. It was silvery and golden, the buckle a thing of beauty.

‘Sit, sister,’ she told me, and I was seating myself on my usual seat, but she huffed and pointed at a place by a mirror. It was tall as a man, oval and dark, framed by dangerous metal carved crows, but as she snapped her fingers, the mirror cleared and the crows shifted to a different position.

I stared at myself.

My hair was wild and long, much longer than it had ever been. My cheeks were slimmer, and there were wrinkles and dark smudges under and around my eyes.

But the eyes themselves were the most different.

On Earth, I had been a wreck. So had most of the others, one way or another. Now, the eyes staring back at me were resolute, steady and a bit resentful, but mostly piercing.

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