Chapter 1 Continued

Shuddering also because her bare shoulder brushed by some slimy moldy film on the tiled wall, Tristan kept whispering urgent messages into Tiny's ears, "Keep close during the quiz" "Stay in front of me when we're running" "Remember! Behind me during the fight!, but she knew the chances that Tiny actually heard her were remote.

A crack of a whip behind them hurried the four youngsters along the slimy hallway. The heavy iron-banded door in front of them slid creakily open at their approach, letting in such a downpour of sunlight that the four stood stupidly blinking, trying to adjust their sight.

Tristan and Tiny huddled together, making sure the others around wouldn't separate them. Then she realized someone was in the front, yelling out instructions. "... den youse runs and youse stops odders froms passing youse and dey stops youse. Foist half dat passes de finish line gets ta fight da next round. Odder half gets, " His finger drew quickly across his jugular with a wink behind it. "Oif youse gets whats I means." He quickly turned on his heels and walked into the middle of the arena.

Calling it an arena was like calling a pigsty a castle. The field was about 25 feet by 25 feet with hastily erected stands around the perimeter. Tiny gaped at the gathering crowds and whispered to Tristan "Wow, a lot of people came to see bloodshed." Tristan nodded with a slight gulp. It finally hit her that this was real, that she was really entered into the competition and that there was a good chance that Tiny and her weren't going to make it.

"They're starting off with the race this year?" In years past, she along with the others not entered into the Annual Scholarship Competition, would peek through cell windows to get a glimpse of the competition. She knew that the slavers chose the weakest and the most troublesome to compete. An old slave once explained to her that the weakest rarely lasted as a slave and well, it was easier to get rid of the troublesome during the competition than in slave sales.

She peered up at the crowd and noticed for the first time, that daises had been set up slightly above the crowds at the four ends of the field. Those must be the four schools that are choosing who gets the scholarships. Strange, three of the daises had one high chair, but the third had three - were there three deans of that school? She shrugged realizing that with only four winners, she probably wouldn't be able to find out.

The sun was bright today, she noted. She might be able to use the sunlight to her advantage. She glanced around the field. Not much to hide behind but if she could maneuver Tiny into a corner, she only had to fend off what were in front of them. She hastily whispered a small plan in his ear, then grabbed his face to lock eyes, making sure he understood both the instructions and the importance of them. He nodded, then pried her hands loose. A quick hug for reassurance, but his posture told her that he was expecting death.

Not today! her mind screamed and she clenched her jaw determinedly.

Chapter 1 - part one

Oh yessss, child. Is it time to test you already? Oh my, how time flies when you’ve a kingdom to rule. I had thought you wouldn’t be ready for this trial until you were 8 or 9 but I see, diluted elf-blood is miraculous serum indeed. Far be it for me to stop your - *smirk* - destiny. Hmm, let’s see now, how shall we proceed? Ahhhhh yesssss, your insipid little familiar. He’s quite accepting of his own fate, isn’t he? Rather like a trapped insect in a web, isn’t it? I wonder exactly when you’ll realize that the weakest is always the first to go. And, I wonder, how far you would go for friendship….

* * * * * * *

The acrid smell wafted up her nostrils to wake her up with a jolt. Scrunching her nose, Tristan looked around for the source. The search didn’t take long; someone, very likely Arite, had pee’ed a few feet from her.

Before her eyes adjusted to the slants of light streaming into the cell from the barred windows, Tiny had sidled up next to her with a small squeeze around the waist. “Hi!” he whispered.

Smiling, she gave him a little squeeze back and noted to herself that he was still dropping weight. Not good, he needs food. Hesitating a tad before she asked whether anything was going on, she sensed a strange stirring among the slaves and the slavers.

“Yeah!” he whispered back excitedly. “The schools are back. They’re getting the lists ready right now.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders drooped slightly as the news hit her. She glanced at Tiny hesitantly, then stared intently at the dance of the dust within the slants of light.

“I wonder if your name is on this year, Tristan.” Tiny was rocking back and forth with what could almost be described as glee.

Though she knew she was being led, her curiosity got the better of her. “Don’t you wonder if your name is… oh.” Her shoulders dropped further. Why was it that Tiny could perceive things better than she could at times? Of course, Tiny was on the list. One way or another, the slavers would be rid of what was definitely considered as a liability.

“Maybe I’m on this year. Last year, they said you were too small and I was too young. I think they’ll be happy to get rid of me too.” Her sigh was barely audible.

Letting her hand fall to the ground next to where they were sitting, she idly drew pictures in the dirt. Her other hand stroked the stone that was imbedded in the palm. “Tiny. If I am on the list, you gotta promise me.” She turned with sudden ferocity at him. “Promise me, Tiny! Stay behind me.”

He smiled gently at her, “What do you think I was counting on?” before breaking into a huge grin.

She punched him in the arm.

As the morning dragged on, she looked around the cell, wondering if she would miss living with slavers. After all, she knew little else and things could be worse outside those bars. Here, she had food, what little she could fight for and share with Tiny; and shelter, if one could call a moldy patch of old filthy hay that.

Her fingers stroked her palm where the triangular stone was imbedded. Why was it she’s never seen anyone else with stones imbedded in their bodies? How did she get this one? Every time she tried to remember, a fiery headache would ignite and fade away as her attempts evaporated. And how did she become a slave? Other slave kids all had sob stories, but she couldn’t remember hers.

She remembered little before her life here. Memories of soft arms, loving arms would occasionally wake her with a smile. Other memories would materialize, usually when she was rubbing the stone: memories of a song sung to her; of a tinkling laugh that tickled her ear; of a strange growly high-pitched voice that offered comfort yet seemed encumbered by melancholy; and of warmth - warmth that carried such… emotions! Crackly, fun, loving, needling, mutating, enveloping warmth.

She could never explain to Tiny that it was this warmth that carried her through the cold days and freezing nights, this warmth that repudiated her surroundings so she couldn’t suffocate. But Tiny never minded that he didn’t understand; all he seemed to care about was that Tristan was around for him to make laugh.

A crash at their cell door jabbed all the cellmates out of their reverie.

“Oy! You! You! You! ‘N You!” A finger stabbed at four kids, including Tiny and Tristan. “Oin’t youse the lucky bastiches. C’mon now! Don’ have all doi! Youse all…” his rumbling voice turned into an ugly falsetto, “are gonna put on a noiss show fer us all.” His resonant laugh faded into the distance even as the echo drifted back to them.

With a sinking heart, Tristan realized who one of the other chosen was. Arite! That bastich! The one who always went after Tiny’s portions - and got it half the time. Most of her black eyes came from him.

Passing him, she protected Tiny by being between them. A whispered taunt drifted through the darkness. “Only four schools. Only four winners.” Her blood chilled as his cackle followed.

[Author's Notes] I'm liking Tiny more and more. He'll be around for a long time, but in my mind, he was always a supporting character. More like a 3rd stringer but this may have to change.

Well, this is all I could from here. I'm going to go home later and write for a few more hours and see if I can't get Chapter 1 done.

Prelude - Pre-final take

She could feel the tracks of sweat weaving down her chest to form a rivulet between her breasts, but since pain sliced through her uterus during her scream, she didn’t pause to wipe the sweat away. Don’t push now! screamed her brain, but her body fought off the thought successfully. Another accelerating stitch reverberating through her womb stopped the push. Damnit, Klystra, you call yourself a midwife? When your head says don’t push now, DON’T PUSH!

The thought somehow morphed itself into yet another scream and just as her voice gave out at the end, the front door slammed open letting the driving rain in. Through blurred vision, recognition was acknowledged. A gruff yet high-pitched voice rang out, “Where be the dry wood?”

She pointed with a curt nod of her head. Even with her eyes clenched tight against the pain, she could sense him/er rummaging around, building a fire and setting a kettle above the sprouting flames.

“You should’ve have shown up.”

“Ye be quiet, woman. Ye need me and I be here. That’s that.”

“Yea? And why are you a guy? Don’t you think I need a woman right now? She gasped out the accusatory query.

“Fine. That be what ye want? That be what ye get.”

Grimacing against the pain, Klystra opened one eye to watch the transformation. Though she had witnessed this countless times, it still fascinated her that Tak, only within her presence, could shift his/er form back and aforth. Tak’s form blurred around the edges and within seconds, a more female form took shape.

A more lyrical voice came out of Tak’s body now. “More t’ ye liking, Kly?”

“Yes, thank you. Did anyone see you leave the forest?”

A shake of the head relaxed Klystra enough for her to focus on breathing. “Tak, *huff huff* worried about y… *huff huff* ou. You know, *huff huff huff* I’ll have to leave soon *huff huff* after the baby is…”

“Hush Kly. Me fate’d been decided long ‘ere I met ye. Ye jes’ cons-trate on makin’ me chil’ come inna our realm easy, s’okay?”

Four years and she still hadn’t been able to convince Tak that his/er fate wasn’t sealed.Maybe once s/he sees the baby, s/he’ll change his/er min – the interrupted thought took secondary place to the immediacy of the child clamering to be out of her cave. With the storm outside drumming a soothing rhythm, a single wail punctuated the air full of groans and sweat and blood and breathing.

“Ye be right, Kly. S’a girl.” S/he held the baby near the fire so the flames could light up the babe’s face for Klystra to see. “And wise ol’ eyes she’s got.”

“Your eyes, Tak… your eyes.” Klystra held her arms out for the baby and as the baby smelled the nearby milk, she let out a yelp. “One thing’s for sure, the baby is demanding. Must take after me in that respect.” A nod of confirmation was all Klystra got as both she and the baby fell into exhausted sleep.

* * * * * * *

A couple of hours later, Klystra woke to her baby murmuring for more food. She pulled the baby next to her chest whispering, “Hmm, what would be a good name for you, my special one of three? How about Tristan?”

A grunt from the corner signaled approval. “You like that, Tak?” Another grunt greeted her. Klystra blinked a few times before looking into that corner. Among the shadows, she could make out a small, petite, boyish figure. “Don’t you want a closer look at your daughter, Tak?” A violent shake of the head confirmed her fears.

“Tak, my love. You can’t think…”

“’Nough! S’nough that I be here. If ye think me daughter’s gonna go t’rough da same’s me, ye’d better think twice!”

“Tak, you can leave with us.” She looked over at the corner hoping the flickering light would catch the tears in her eyes. Tak slowly slid out of the shadows and stood by her, clutching her hand.

“No, Kly. There be nowhere in this here realm where she couldn’t find me, nor mine. Won’t be long now… she knows where me be. And…” Tak’s gruff high-pitched voice broke, “She’ll be comin’ ‘fter –“ Tak jabbed his/er thumb in the air, pointing at the baby.

Suddenly, both of them froze. Their brows furrowed as they strained to hear beyond the staccato of the rain. Klystra got up quietly, wincing as she tried to stand.

“Kly. Lie back down.”

“No, Tak. They’re here. And I’ll have to leave now.”

A stifled gasp or sob stopped her from going too far. Klystra turned around and for the first time in over three years, she saw Tak return to the lost sad little elf she had first glimpsed at the edge of the forest, watching her weed her garden. As her hand reached out, Tak’s figure straightened and stiffened so her hand drew back to her side. With resignation, she quickly got her clothes and herbs together.

Tak walked her to the door, then handed her a bundle. “That there’s food. Elven food. Should last a week or so.” Standing on tiptoe, Tak peered into Klystra’s folded arms. “Tristan. This here’s fer ye. ‘Member me” Tak shoved a small object into the wraps enveloping Tristan and quickly turned away.

“Be off. Safe journeys. Don’ ferget t’ use th’ swilgum.”

Klystra paused before leaving. A violent urge shuddered through her as she fought it off, knowing that snatching Tak right now would just make it that much easier for her to find them. “Tak…”

“Me knows, Kly. Me knows.” A sigh followed. “Me too, s’okay?”

The acknowledgement was the sound of the door closing.

Prelude [Take 2]

She could feel the tracks of sweat weaving down her chest to form a rivulet between her breasts but since pain sliced through her uterus during her scream, she didn't pause to wipe the sweat away. Don't push now! screamed her brain, but her body fought off the thought successfully. Another accelerating stitch reverberated through her womb stopped the push though. Damnit, Klystra, you call yourself a mid-wife? When the head says don't push now, DON'T PUSH!

The thought somehow morphed itself into a scream and just as her voice gave out at the end of the scream, the front door slammed open. Through blurred vision, recognition was acknowledged. A gruff but high-pitched voice rang out, "Where be the dry wood?"

She pointed with a curt nod of the head. Even with her eyes clenched tight against the pain, she could hear him/er rummaging around, building a fire and setting a kettle above the sprouting flames.

"You shouldn't have shown up."

"Ye be quiet, woman. Ye need me and I be here. That's that."

"Yea? And what will we do if - " The interrupted thought took secondary place to the immediacy of the child clammering to be out of her cave. With the storm outside drumming a soothing rhythm, a single wail punctuated the air full of groans and sweat and breathing.

"You were right, Kly, it's a girl." S/he held the baby near the fire so the flames could light up her face for Klystra to see. "And old wise eyes, she's got."

"She has your eyes, ..."

[author's notes] oh shit... I don't have a name for him/er... ACK! This is one of those things that usually hang me up for weeks! I need a name for this character. S/he is going to be a really sad figure... HELP! okay... don't have time to think of names now. Going to stop here and come back.

Prelude [Take 1]

The curious thing about the little stone cabin at the edge of the woods wasn't how it managed to withstand some of the most turbulent storms, nor how it maintained an air of cleaniness amidst the enveloping mess of a forest, but rather how the short, curt rubble of a wall managed to seem to hold all that wilderness back. Some, in the village, declared that the house itself was blessed by a wandering friar many sunsets ago, and some maintained that the witch that resided inside the cabin was herself responsible for the many peculiarities that emanated from the cabin.

[author's notes] As beginnings go, this sucks. I want to establish tone, character, something, anything, within the first paragraph. Mission: NOT accomplished. Okay, so what do I need to do to improve on this? First off, voice. The voice is telling, and not showing, and I really need to find the right voice for this. What have I established so far? Nothing. Except some foretelling. *sighs* Okay, [imagines ripping a paper out of the typewriter and crumpling it up to toss (miss?) into the trashcan] Okay, one thing missing about writing on a computer... the immense satisfaction of doing the above. Imagination will just have to work.

She could feel the tracks of sweat weaving down her chest to form a rivulet between her breasts but since pain sliced through her uterus during her scream, she didn't pause to wipe the sweat away. Don't push now! screamed her brain, but her body fought off the thought successfully. Another accelerating stitch reverberated through her womb stopped the push though. Damnit, Klystra, you call yourself a mid-wife? When the head says don't push now, DON'T PUSH NOW!

[Author's notes] Okay, much better.... want to know what I love about writing? The constant surprises. I didn't mean for the first paragraph to tie in so quickly to the the title already, but here my subconscious is already working all the angles. And surprise, I have a name for the old bat. Klystra. Okay, Klystra, glad you could finally make it onto the page. Can't wait to see what you're about and I know... no matter how hard I try and plan you out, you're going to take on a life of your own aren't you? But don't forget, Klystra. You're to be the backstory... you're the prelude. It'll be your daughter who's going to take center stage. I'll leave you in the throes of birthing her now... But I'll be back to add more.