The Fairest (Sample)

Mageia struggled against the need to faint and the guards carrying her by the underarms. They crudely ignored the piece of arrow digging deeper into her shoulder upon every jerk.

“Ah! Let me go!” she screamed and tried to kick, but her legs throbbed in pain.

After they decided to let her live, someone properly dislodged the arrow from her leg. With the help of two guards, they managed to carry her back to the Taefo. They walked through a guarded entryway of the Mideri Wall and crossed through a side door. Instead of taking her to a cell, they took her downstairs into the dungeons with dark mucky floors and no windows. They entered a room, furnished with only two chairs and a stool, and slammed her into one of the chairs. Sucking up the voltages of pain warping through her body, she jumped onto her feet and tried to dash for the door, to no avail.

“The gods curse you all,” she said as they forced her back into the chair and strapped her wrists and body to the chair.

She spat at them and growled, helplessly watching them exit and slam the door close.

“You reliqs! You all are damned souls. You can’t be Fairs with such wicked hearts!”

Mageia panted, vision blurring and thick globes of sweat dripping into her eyes. The room possessed no windows, and the only exit was possibly guarded. Images of her mom crying and begging them to have mercy on Mageia flashed before her eyes. The guards had her mother tied to a post on the outdoor dais of the Diviine Temple so she could watch them slice open her daughter’s wrists.

I don’t want to die. I can’t die. I have a family to take care of.

Fear clogged her heart and spewed poison into her veins. She squeezed her eyes closed and urged her mind to either endure the pain or ignore it. Staying awake and keeping a clear mind were the only priorities. Deep down, she prayed Dean could get the children to safety.

About three hours or so drifted by… then, the door eased open. Mageia perked up.

“Let me go! They were just children. They didn’t need to die.”

Two guards entered and took a stance on opposite sides of the door. They both wore soldier’s uniforms of green and black, but their elaborate designs acknowledged higher ranks. Mageia’s heart skipped a beat. They were soldiers from the palace. Most soldiers working on palace grounds lived in Hiilaan and rarely appeared in Midlaan and Strana unless for executions or dire situations.

The scolding look they gave her made her skin crawl as the door opened again, but this time, only one man entered. He wore a fancier uniform, without his knight’s armor. His cape fluttered behind him as he closed the door. Mageia swallowed her heart and a lung as the man glided across the room, hard bootsteps unnaturally silent. His demeanor calm, yet calculated and egoistic.

But his features made the world spin in circles. She knew exactly who he was as the dimmed lantern lights revealed his scrutinizing red eyes and wavy crimson hair. Old burn marks scaled the right side of his neck, disappearing into his collar. It sent chills up her spine.

People spoke their dislike or fascination about this man. Not even out of his teens, he already made knights crap their pants and babies cry in their mother’s arms. He gave a slight grin that did not match the wickedness in his unnatural gaze. The air around them grew hotter as he grabbed the other chair, brought it before her, and sat. He leaned onto his knees and glared into her eyes. Studying and deep in thought.

She held her breath, but the pain forced it out in rattled waves.

“Purple Thief,” he said with a deep, husky voice. “We meet, finally.”

Mageia was speechless. Annoyance withered in her bones at how handsome this being was. It made her sick to her stomach, and she only prayed he’d kill her quickly.

“May I introduce myself,” he said with a hand gesture. She flinched, expecting to see something terrible. “Eron Shadar, Commander of the King’s Army. Though you’ve probably already heard of me.”

“Yeah,” she croaked. A smirk weaved across her sweaty face. “The King’s Fiery Dick.”

His eyes darkened, and a humored smirk slipped onto his face before his annoyance vanquished it. The room grew hotter, and the torches about the room flickered wildly.

“Is that what they’re calling me now?”

Mageia had seen this dangerous Soother a few times in her lifetime, and every time she reminded herself how she never wanted to meet him. It was known how the Crown took him from his parents to raise as their own and turned him into their own lethal weapon.

He raised his right hand, and Mageia edged away, tensing up as a quiet flame erupted from his skin. Mageia’s jaw dropped, and her body trembled in fear of the inevitable pain. He stared at his flaming hand with a dark awe. “I would prefer the Fiisen-Soother, bearer of fire, a gift from Holy Dawnis,” he said in pure admiration of himself.

Mageia scoffed, blinking to keep from blacking out. “You’re nothing but a royal joke.”

Before she knew it, his inflamed hand grabbed her left leg. Her clothing charred instantly, and her skin sizzled. She screamed and tried to wriggle free, to no avail.

The commander mockingly gasped and removed his hand, leaving smoke rising from her burning flesh. “Oh, I’m sorry. Forgive my poor manners.” His skin sucked away the flames.

Mageia sobbed. She may end up dying by fire rather than her wounds. “Please. Let me go,” she begged.

“Not until you give me your assistance.” He slid closer. “What is your name?”

A nasty tremble crawled into her muscles and bones. Whether it was out of fear of being tortured by burns or her blood puddling the floor, she couldn’t tell. But she knew one thing for sure: she wished she was not in this situation.

“Go to hell,” she mumbled.

He shook his head. “I don’t have all night. Can’t say the same for you. I can kill you now and return to my preparations for tonight’s sacrifice or search for your vagabond friends. I don’t give a damn about your name Purple Thief; I was merely being a gentleman. I will continue to do so if you freely answer my questions.”

She shivered with a hint of happiness that they hadn’t caught her friends and the children yet. “Okay,” she finally said.

“Good girl. Now what are you? Are you a Soother?”

“No.”

“You must be something to have such beautiful eyes.” A charming grin appeared for a quick second.

“Go defect yourself,” she scoffed.

He gave an inner growl. “I only want to help. If you tell me what you are, or better yet, tell me where your friends are hiding, I may speak kindly to the king on your behalf.”

Mageia chuckled dryly. “I’m not going to do that. I’d be a fool to trust a royal joke.”

The commander’s red eyes flickered. He rose like he was immortal and time, an inconvenience. He raised a hand and slapped her across the face. The world blacked out for a second. A throb erupted within her skull, and a ringing pierced her right ear.

He sat down, this time leaning back with his legs apart. “Ah… Now, I assure you. I do despise striking and torturing women, but you’re a Strange. You mean nothing to me, the Crown, nor the gods. Well, that is, if you honestly don’t know what you are. But fut that. I’ll only ask one last time, that is it, Purple Thief. Where did they run off to? Where have you and your little thieving friends been hiding all these years?”

She gathered the metallic-tasting liquid flooding her mouth and spat on the man’s pants. He didn’t like that. He was up on his feet again. His hand slapped her face until she lost count and heard some bones crackling in distress. Then he slid behind her, grabbed the remaining part of the arrow still in her shoulder, and yanked it out. Her scream quaked the room. The soldiers chuckled at her anguish, and the world spun from the pain. She felt her head go heavy and droop, but the Soother squeezed her chin and brought their eyes to match.

“Where are they? Where did they go? Answer me, you little whore, or I will burn every part of your body and pluck those purple beads right out of their sockets.”

“Go defect yourself,” she managed to grumble from the flood of blood in her mouth.

Commander Eron growled. “The king has given me the permission, whenever you were finally caught, to decide whether you should die at that moment or be given a chance to stand in the Court. Give me a reason to give you the latter. Tell me the location of your criminal friends and those children. That’s all you have to do and maybe you can be Cleared just like me.”

“I’d rather die than be like you.”

Mageia stared into his bloodthirsty eyes. Blood dribbled down her nose and mouth. Even if she did tell him their escape plan, there was no guarantee that he would allow her a Court appearance. But she was also a skilled and wise thief. Thieves never gave up, and they always took their chances.

The commander’s eyes hardened and grew merciless. “You test me?”

She felt his hand growing hotter. She gave an internal gasp; her face was about to be melted off.

“I guess you don’t need this pretty face if you’ve decided to die tonight,” he taunted.

Fear and instincts kicked in, and she shook her head as her skin began to heat up.

“No. Stop. Wait. Wait. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Are you sure, girl?”

She nodded, blotches forming in her vision. He then released her and sat back down.

Mageia spat a puddle of blood to the side and glared at the Soother. “Promise me that I’ll get my time in Court.”

“Promise,” he sneered, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees.

“Alright. After we rescued the children, we were supposed to head west to the old garrisons by the Split.”

“For what purpose?”

She shrugged. “To recuperate. There we had food and water, medical supplies in case someone got hurt.”

“And then?”

“We were to head downriver into the Runes.”

“And the camp where you’ve been living?”

She grinned and sneered in his face. “Right under your noses.”

“Hmm.” His eyes bore into her face. It was moments like these; she wished she could hear the thoughts of men. The silence lingering between them squeezed her throat and sharpened the pain in her shoulder and legs.

Then his head began to shake, and she caught her breath. “You’re lying.”

Mageia gasped on the inside. “No, I’m not,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Yes, you are.” His voice was nice and slow. He waved a finger in the air, and his lips stretched into an eerie grin. “You think I am a fool to believe you would disclose such important details of your plan?”

“It is true.”

“Mhmm, no… All of it was a lie, I can tell, except one part. ‘Right under your noses.’”

After a half minute, his own eyes sparkled with a slight flame. The torchlights flickered. “The tunnels.”

Mageia could not stop the slight cringe that came over her face. The Fiisen gave a laugh and rose to face the guards.

“Send men to the closest entrances to the sewers and tunnels,” he bellowed.

“No!” she screamed, struggling against the restraints.

“There are a few old wells in the area. A great place to disappear, I must say.”

Mageia continued her rebuttal as the soldiers slipped from the room. “Please, just let them be free. They’ve done nothing wrong. They’re just children.”

“Ay, sacred children for tonight’s sacrifice.” He tugged on his jacket with a proud smile. “I am a man of my word, Purple Thief. You’ll have your day in Court, but only if your wounds allow you to survive the night.”

With a jeering wink, he stormed from the room, taking the warmth with him.

“No!” Tears swelled in her eyes as she screamed. They blurred into the wails of the condemned.