Monday, July 12, 2004

Part two-

Synthia was crying again, and this time Elizabeth was going to do something about it. Nothing in Elizabeth’s life had ever had the effect on her that the sound of Synthia crying had. She had spent hours in the filthiest ships hold you could imagine, with smells so powerful her eyes burned. She had lived on the streets of Losvinshire, where there were men so cruel and heartless, that even the bravest of souls would be cautious. She had broken a man’s heart, left him in that cursed town, left a part of herself to escape the life draining misery of a slow meaningless death in that place. All that, a short span of time, a long nightmare of bad choices, and still it could not compare to the pain in Synthia’s tears.
The beauty of an Eysturlun is usually the thing of ballads, or bawdy tales. The few that do live in Eshia stay together in sheltered communities, trying to protect the last bits and pieces of a dying culture. Synthia Almaoria DesDuryisus was fairer, and gentler of spirit than any being that Elizabeth had ever known. The truth, Synthia claimed, was that she was not an Eysturlun. Synthia claimed to be a Drasbian, there were not many who could prove her wrong, and reveal her lie. There were darker secrets. Elizabeth would never know them all. Lying was not easy for Synthia, her green skin and golden eyes betrayed her. If she was not an Eysturlun as she claimed: then her blood was tainted by an ancestor who must have been, was the common belief.
Synthia’s beauty was legendary, at least as legendary as a beauty can be in a small backward farming village. Anywhere else she would be happy, Elizabeth knew, anywhere else. This town, this place called Kiecomb, was a hell for Synthia. When Elizabeth came to this village two years ago, she had hoped to settle down, forget the past. She renamed herself Raven Hessington. The farmers and merchants accepted the name, accepted her. She was put at ease that there were others like her here. Other Eshians that were not quiet acceptable to the general public, Bascondes, they were called by mainlanders, even though the only difference between those from the islands and those of the mainland might be a difference in hair color or texture, maybe the tint of the skin or eyes. The Basconds, oh yes there was a difference in the way it sounded when spoken, were different culturally. The City States of Bascond once ruled all the islands as well as the towns and frontier villages of the mainland. Then after years of oppression the folks of the mainland rose up in revolution. With the aid of a government far across the western sea, the Queen of Eshia defeated the armies of Bascond, and declared the whole of the mainland from the western coast, to the Black River in the east and all the way to the Emalia mountains, a free and sovereign nation. This confused a few in the beginning, hadn’t they all been Eshians after all. No, there had always been difficulties. The Basconds considered their ways superior, their tastes more expressive, their behavior more developed, where as the mainlanders felt those from the islands were extravagantly priggish, rude and loud and never to be trusted, for all true Eshians knew that the Bascondes were nothing more than gypsies and thugs. So it was that here in a small village where there wasn’t a majority of either, or any others for that matter that Raven Hessington wanted to call home. It was also here that another young girl with a troubled past became the property of a tavern keeper, and Synthia’s fear of the fat cruel woman that owned that tavern was the cause of her tears.
Camilla was the cause of Synthias pain, and her shame, and Elizabeth was determined that tonight would be the last night that Camilla sold Synthia’s beauty to a warless soldier, or bored farmer. Tonight Synthia would dance for the last time for the tavern or its owner. Elizabeth had run before, run for perhaps all the wrong reasons, but now she would run again, and take Synthia with her, this time would be different.
The evening began somewhat quieter than she expected. Elizabeth moved around the main room of the inn making small talk with the few regulars that had come in, serving them heavy wooden mugs of beer and wine. The inn served a popular stew on Thursdays, and Elizabeth wondered why so few had arrived. “And how is your evening Mr. Hartley?” She asked one of her favorite customers, who had taken his usual place near the fire pit in the center of the room.
“Oh very well, very well thank you, and yourself little Raven?” he answered.
“Best as ever.” She said with a big smile. She had always liked Ralfden Hartley. He was a slight man who made a good living managing money for the local Banker. He had a sharp wit and a pleasant disposition and was always helpful with advice on money matters. “Anything to help a young girl make a few Lar in the works down at the Bank?” She asked as she removed a pair of empty mugs from the table next to him.
He smiled and with a little gesture of his hand waved at her to move a little closer to him. She had not really been serious with her question, but did not want to pass up on any real news.
“Mr. Waxwood has been talking with a Volognan merchant about setting up a venture capital investment. Seems this fellow will be hiring a crew to sail around Midhaven heading for the shores of Juiland. I put 100 Lar of mine own into it, I highly recommend the same, but only to my good friends, and keep it hush-hush Mr. Waxwood, he’s kind of funny these days, a little cautious about strangers and their foreign money, but I am sure he’ll do you a good bit of return seeing as he likes Camilla’s place more and more these days.”
She tried to pay attention to what Hartley was telling her, but at that very moment Synthia was coming down the stairs at the back of the inn. Suddenly Elizabeth was filled with fear. It was easy for Elizabeth to talk tough in her own mind, but now there she was dressed up in layers of cotton and silk, her eyes and nails painted and the blank sadness of her expression partially covered by the long golden hair falling across her brow. Camilla must have found Synthia crying and forced her to put on the clothes and make-up. Thinking about how much larger Camilla was than both of them made Elizabeth’s heart race, what was she thinking after all. That woman was a monster, in more ways than one. How could she think of standing up to her? Let alone taking something she considered her property away from her. Elizabeth took a deep breath, smiled and said a warm, “good night to you Mr. Hartley” while clearing his table of plates, and walked quickly to where she could catch Synthia at the bottom of the stairs.
“I though you weren’t coming down tonight?” She asked, but to her surprise Synthia pushed past her with out looking at her at all. “Hey, is everything alright?” This time Elizabeth punctuated her question by taking hold of Synthia’s hand and squeezing tightly. Synthia stopped but did not turn to face Elizabeth.
Her voice came out broken and faint, “I don’t want her to hit me, she said she would beat me if I didn’t go downstairs tonight. She said I owed it to her. She said I was not grateful enough.”
“You don’t owe that bitch anything. You know it is a bad time to do this. It’s your time dam it! She has to let you rest for a few days at least. Just go back up stairs I mean it.”
“Raven!” Camilla’s voice called from the top of the stairs. “Take your hand off of Synthia this minute. Her nails are still wet.” The coldness in her voice made Elizabeth’s heart pound even faster.
Elizabeth had no idea she would be this frightened, but she forced herself to pull Synthia by the hand as she walked back up the stairs. “Synthia is going to go back to bed. She isn’t feeling well.”
The stairs groaned loudly under the weight of Camilla’s foot as the large woman took one step down and folded her arms across her chest. Elizabeth knew the few patrons in the inn had stopped everything they were doing and were watching the three women on the stairs. “I am not going to have you tell me what will or will not happen in my place. Get your things and get out, or shut up and do what I told you to do. Don’t think I wont throw you out if I have to,” Camilla said growling the words through clenched teeth.”
Camilla would not start brawling right in front of the locals. Elizabeth knew this. She had seen the big woman back down before when customers were upset. Elizabeth squeezed past Camilla pulling Synthia all the while, who was now openly sobbing but making no effort to resist. She walked down the short hall and into Synthia’s room saying nothing else, afraid to look back and see that Camilla was right behind her. When Elizabeth had pulled Synthia through the door she quickly tried to shut it, but was knocked back by Camilla forcing the door open. Camilla slammed the door shut behind her and backhanded Elizabeth so hard the small girl was lifted off her feet and thrown against the bed near the opposite wall of the room. Synthia fell to her knees and buried her head in her folded arms pressed hard against her ears. Elizabeth wasn’t moving, and Camilla’s rage exploded in a torrent of curses and accusations. The big woman took a small step toward Elizabeth just as she rolled onto her hands and knees, shaking violently and gasping for breath. With both hands Camilla grabbed at Elizabeth’s long black hair and yanked the girl from the floor. Holding her almost a foot off the floor Camilla shook Elizabeth violently, screaming obscenities. Elizabeth tried flailing at the big woman, but could tell the blows from her small fists fell hopelessly on the muscled arms of her tormenter. Then there was a loud cracking sound followed by another with shattering effects as Elizabeth was peppered with shards of pottery. Camilla’s face went to a deathlike slack. Her grip on Elizabeth did not release as she crumbled to the floor. Elizabeth struggled violently to free herself from Camilla’s hands. The room seemed very small, and the ringing in her ears began to be drowned out by hysterical crying coming from Synthia who stood holding the shattered remains of a water pitcher in her hands. For a few seconds Elizabeth looked up from the floor into Synthia’s eyes. Those eyes were burning with intensity. Through tears and redness the fire in those gold eyes comforted Elizabeth. She pulled herself up by grabbing at Synthia’s fancy gown, and the two held each other tightly until their shaking stopped.
The sound of cautious footsteps on the stairs reminded them that something terrible had just happened. Never saying a word to each other the two of them rummaged through the chest of drawers and closet of Synthia’s room stuffing everything they could grab into a pillowcase. Elizabeth bolted the door. She would have to leave all of her own things behind, she knew. They would go out the window, and around to the north side of the building, down the columns of the back porch and out of town. Synthia was standing unusually quite and still. She had a long knife in her left hand. Elizabeth had no idea where she had gotten it, but what she was about to do seemed obvious. With her right hand Synthia was pulling down on the front of the dress she wore as she moved the point of the blade close to her breast. Elizabeth throat tightened and she found she couldn’t scream out the “NO!” that filled her every being. With a purposeful downward slash Synthia cut the dress cleanly from her body, and tossed the remains on the floor near Camilla’s lifeless form. Elizabeth was in to great of surprise to register just what had happened, but Synthia wrapped the blanket from her bed around herself twice, and tied the ends together at her waist just as a soft knocking was heard on the door.
“Everything all right in there Miss?” came a strange voice from the other side of the door.
Elizabeth smiled at Synthia and reached for her hand as she had done at the bottom of the stairs. Synthia reached out strongly to meet her hand and held it tightly as the two climbed out into the night air.

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