The Fairest (Sample)

“Hala, Dean,” she said, sensing her best friend was nearby.

Indeed, the 17-year-old gave a low chuckle from his perch on a boulder. He flapped his auburn hair out of his green eyes, exposing a pink birthmark trailing the right side of his face like a permanent blush. He lowered his spear, and the three Elders with him did the same.

“Lady Mageia, fine day?”

“It was indeed a fine day,” she said, throwing him the silver timepiece she stole from the man she spooked. He caught it and grinned at its elaborate designs.

She heard him scramble off the boulder and fall on her trail.

“Yer back early,” he said in the foreign accent she’d grown accustomed to.

Uh oh, she thought, a knot forming in her throat.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Geia … Did’ju get spotted?” he asked with a hard strain in his voice.

“Uh …” she said, already feeling her friend’s face twist hard.

“Wait.” He stepped in front of her with a hand raised. “Yuh got spotted, didn’t yuh?”

She shrugged and slipped around him. “Uh … Yeah.” She bit hard into her bottom lip, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading.

Dean Unknown gawked, unable to get a single word out. He followed her under the drape of colorful vines into the heart of the encampment. A place she has called home for eight years. Huts made of nature’s debris covered with stolen or handmade blankets sat scattered about. Clothing hung along vines, ropes, and tree branches, drying under the noon day sun. Handmade decorations and artwork from the children dangled in the breeze across the pathway and anywhere needing the color of life.

The smell of venison and vegetables lingered in the air, making her stomach grumble. She unlatched her cloak and exited the pathway into a circular clearing. A large firepit sat at the center with a lit flame within. Strange children ran around playing tag, and when they saw her, they cheered, ran to her, and clung to her waist.

“Hala, young ones,” she chuckled.

“Hala! What did you bring us this time?” a boy asked, peering up at her with crooked eyes.

“Hopefully, enough valuables to bring in more delicious sweets,” she said, scuffing his hair.

They cheered with joy and ran off, careless of their various deformities and illnesses.

“This is yer first spotting in what? Five months?” Dean picked up the troublesome topic, and Mageia gave an irritable sigh. “What happened?”

“I’ll give my report during the meeting,” she said.

She continued across the Pit into a smaller trail leading to more huts. The biggest one sat towards the end, almost in the shape of a cottage, with a window and a door made of wood planks. This one belonged to her.

“This is terrible, Geia,” he said, hand clawing into his hair. “Yer the Chief of the Lost Ones. Yer the role model fer everyone.”

“I know, Dean,” she grumbled, untying the sack of stolen items from her waist and plopping it into Dean’s hands.

“Yuh don’t act like it,” he said, eyes wide and firm. Her best friend in the entire world had lost his sense of humor. She knew why but facing the truth would bring the waterfalls.

“But I’m fine, Dean. I made it out of the temple grounds with my head still on my shoulders.”

His angry face flushed red, and the muscles in his arms flexed. The treetops surrounding them began to flutter in a sudden breeze causing the hairs along her arms to stand. She looked at the ground and tapped her boot into the stones. Guilt and regret washed their way into her soul. Her bottom lip curled between her teeth, and she fumbled with the buttons on her cloak.

Here comes the lecture.

“Yeah, thank the gods yer head is still there,” he said, his voice elevating, which only strengthened his accent. “I told yuh the other day y’shouldn’t be a collect’r. Yuh have purple eyes, and there’s not much yuh can do to conceal ’em. If yuh get caught, what’re we supposed to do? It’s too risky for yuh to be out there, but you insist. There’re other things you can do ‘round here, like huntin’ or teachin’ combat to the children.”

“But you know staying within this forest will drive me insane,” she said. “Slipping through the cities is where I feel free.”

“Yer not a slave, yer not in the Dungeons or the Runes with shackles on yer wrists and feet and men barkin’ crap at yuh. You are free, Geia!” He then turned towards the fluttering trees and shouted, “We are free!”

“Dean!”

She sighed and scrunched up her nose, knowing he was right. It did feel good to steal from the heartless Fairs, but she had a family. They had a family. One they created over their eight years of scavenging the cities to survive. He was her strength when hers failed, and vice versa, and she knew he cared a million moons for her.

He jabbed a finger in her face, and she slapped it away. “The cities call yuh the Purple Thief because yuh stand out.”

“I’m quick on my feet—”

“It doesn’t matter when the archers pop from the ground,” he said, gesturing with his hands.

“Dean!”

“Don’t be ungrateful. Yuh have a family here that loves yuh. I love you,” he said through clenched teeth, poking himself in the chest.

The back of her throat stung, so she sucked in the fresh air to clear it up. She grabbed onto his shoulders and peered into his face. His stern green eyes, like the fresh grass of spring, wavered with hurt and disappointment. She never wanted to make him upset or worried.

“Dean. I hear you. I am so sorry. It was an accident.”

“I cannot lose you, Geia,” he said, but this time low and heavy.

She wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him in for a hug. His embrace about her waist tightened, and she breathed in the scent of leaves on his skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Dean sighed as the breeze around them dwindled. “Yeah, yeah. Now let me go. I need to return to my post.”

Mageia laughed and shoved him away. He indicated the sack in his hand. His cheeks deepened pink, and his chest puffed up.

“I’ll take these to the collection basket,” he said.

“I’m going to freshen up and do my rounds of the perimeter,” she said, backing up to the door.

“I’ll let yuh know when everyone’s back for the meeting,” Dean said, eyes jumping from the ground to her face.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay,” he repeated and turned away, stiff and awkward. He walked away, scratching the back of his neck.

Mageia wished she could give Dean the world. He deserved it. Everyone in her family deserved more than sleeping in huts and depending on stolen valuables for food and necessities. But the world they lived in was unfair. And any slave and Strange in the kingdom would die just to have the freedom they had.

Heart now burdened with reality, she entered her hut, scented with bundles of lavenders tied to the walls. The beautiful purple flower not only reminded her of her eyes, but they were her mother’s favorite. It comforted her soul to believe her mother watched over her every day.

She took off the cloak and her sweaty tunic and placed them into a basket of soiled clothing. Everyone was responsible for their own laundry, so she noted to do it sometime tomorrow. The breeze from the window cooled her dark-brown skin as she peered at her reflection in a mirror with copper trims. Stolen, of course. She fixed her long hair of tight curls into a ponytail, only to allow her fingers to slide down the back of her neck to her birthmark.

Plumpy, odd, and in the shape of a hexagon with a diamond in its center, the birthmark could be mistaken as a brand done by hot iron, but her parents told her she was born with it. Sometimes, she found it hard to believe and figured her parents didn’t want to openly admit they branded their own baby. Though they made her promise not to show or tell anyone, they never got the opportunity to give their reasons and the truth. It did bother her at one point, but now it was just a reminder of where she never wanted to end up again. Caged.

Quickly, she put on a deep purple tunic, loving how the loose blouse allowed her skin to breathe. She double-checked her short sword at her waist and left to check on the outer perimeters of her home.

Every Lost One was at the Pit except two of their Elders, Liivel and Gavin, who were now patrolling the entry gate. Eighteen children under the age of thirteen sat amongst the remaining ten teen Elders, waiting to discuss the day. Finger foods and fruit juice were passed around as Mageia took her seat at the head of the circle beside Dean.

“Okay, everyone!” she said, getting their attention. “From our collectors, please tell me if you’ve been spotted for the record.”

“I,” said Sissi, a 12-year-old collector with some defected fingers joined into one.

“How did that happen, for the record?” Dean said, writing in the record book.

Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “A woman saw me digging into a lady’s purse in the Olesha Marketplace.”

“Okay. Learn from your mistake,” Mageia said in a kind yet firm tone.

“I will. I thank the gods I was not caught,” the girl said, bobbing her head.

“Gods be good,” everyone said in unison.

Mageia nodded. “I, too, was spotted.” This made a few eyebrows rise, shocked at the most experienced one in the family. She had no excuse except the fact that she let the proceedings on the dais distract her. “I was caught by the very person I was picketing. I will learn from that mistake and thank the gods I was not caught.”

“Gods be good,” everyone mumbled this time.

“If that’s all, what say to the hunting crew?” Mageia said.

Their family’s main five hunters wearing camouflaged colors to blend with nature, handed over their small record book to Dean. Jaice, their 16-year-old leader, stood with a pleased smile. Mageia quickly remembered the image of spotting her at 6 years old getting a brutal beating from a slave master who had recently bought her from an orphanage. Mageia had been collecting in the market that day and followed them to the master’s home and knew something had to be done. She returned home to get Dean, and they rescued Jaice that night. The poor girl had bloody and old bruises on her bald head, unable to produce hair.

The young lady now stood strong and shameless of her defect and had deliberately drawn flowers over her dry scalp that highlighted her petite face. “We were able to catch two rabbits and two wild chickens,” she said. “We also caught two big fishes from the lake.”

“Very good, Jaice. Our cooking crew will make sure we dine well tonight. Nanthe tu,” Mageia said with an appreciative nod. “By the sound of things, everything is going well. All thanks to any of the good gods above.”

“Gods be good,” everyone said happily.

“As we all know, today’s many executions will continue towards tonight, bringing in Ardania’s Annual Fair Ceremony.”

This brought a few groans, for this long-winded ceremony only reminded the Strange about their misfortunes and forced Fairs to treat them with phony smiles and showers of unnecessary kindness. Of all the holidays Ardania observed, this one revealed the darkest side of Mageia’s kingdom, and it sat high on a throne to be worshiped.

“I know. I know. Like the years before, we will get through this. What we’ve gathered and hunted will be rationed until next week after the festivals. To honor those being sacrificed, no one will leave the encampment to enjoy the cruel festivities. No one will leave unless it’s for an important reason,” Mageia said as she caught eyes with Dean and felt a lump in her throat. “We will honor the Ordained instead.…”

“Are yuh sure about that, Geia?” Dean asked. “We shouldn’t serve any of the gods.”

“Well, then, we can honor the innocent souls of the Strange who have died this year. I want everyone to find something they treasure or value the most, and we’ll sacrifice it into the flames of the Pit tomorrow at midnight.”

A deathly silence fell upon the encampment. Only the breeze rustling the tree branches acknowledged its presence.

“May their souls rest peacefully in the Serene,” Jaice said, eyes watering with sorrow.

Mageia fumbled with her fingers, the knot in her throat extending to her wet eyelids. A gentle hand touched her arm, and she looked up at Dean, whose eyes were dark and determined.

Then as the saint he was, Dean took over the meeting. “We will double security and keep our noise at a minimum to avoid attracting any wanderers for the next few days. If yuh have any questions, little ones, feel free to ask any Elder. If that would be all, the Elders will go through the collection for today and have our meetin’.”

“I have something to say,” Faebrin said. The Elf-boy’s sky-blue eyes glanced at them with sorrow and uncertainty.

“What is it, Faebrin?” Mageia said.

“I saw children being led into the Taefo.”

Murmurings and gasps arose, and a new tension swarmed in and stiffened Mageia’s spine.

Dean’s eyes darkened, angry at the boy. “This talk is not fer young ears, Faebrin!”

Mageia’s heart fluttered and sunk into her gut, despite the boy’s stupidity.

“I asked around and—” Faebrin tried to continue.

“Yuh what?” Dean yelled. Mageia grabbed and squeezed her best friend’s clenched fist.

“They said the High Priest had some damn dream from the gods dealing with a need for the defected blood of children or something evil of the sort. They’re going to sacrifice them at midnight to bring in the Sacred Day.”

Gasps and weeping erupted amongst the group. Mageia’s breath shortened as she soaked in the twenty-five faces of her family.

“Dean, they stopped sacrificing children three years ago,” Mageia said, remembering her joyous prayers to the gods for touching the king’s heart to change that law.

She then saw herself again standing on the dais of the Diviine Temple, but this time the executioner’s dagger lured closer to her little wrists bound to a stake.

“Dean …,” she said, squeezing his fist. “We have to save them.”