The Four Realms - Book One - Truth

Episode 1 - The kidnapping

I woke with a jolt. My dreams are plagued by screams and the smell of burning wood.

Then I felt a warmth around me, and screams pierced the hazzy orange night. Heavy-footed feet pound past the window of my bedroom. Smoke choked my lungs as I tried to coax my limbs into movement, weighed down by the lack of oxygen in my system.

"Mamma, Papa." My dry throat was in agony; only a whisper pushed past my dry lips; a layer of woody ash had settled on my skin, my clothes, and my hair. Serefin!

Where was Serefin? Squinting into the smoke-laden room, I could only make out the familiar wood dining table and the wooden ladder beside it, rising to the mezzanine level on which Serefin slept each night.

I fell to my knees, noticing a gap in the smoke closer to the floor. Breathing in as much air as I could manage, I crawled on my stomach towards the ladder. There was little light, and the screams of men, women, and children, although moving away from the house, still crackled with as much vehemence as the burning wood around me. At any minute, I knew the building would come down, as I saw the flames licking at the oak beams of the roof.

My hand tentatively felt the heated air ahead of me as I travelled, my eyes unable to see more than a few inches ahead of me. Familiar items brushed my finger tips: rugs, fireplaces, chairs, but then there was something soft to the touch. Although my head told me one thing, my heart would not allow it. On closer inspection, however, I felt my mother lying on the floor. Her eyes were closed, and she wasn't moving. I shook and rouged at her body, trying to move her, but she wouldn't stir. I didn't have the strength to move her, and there was no time. In this moment, I chose my sister.

My tears barely touched my cheeks as the heat in the room was so intense. I noticed beside my mother a bucket of water. She must have been trying to help us. Turning onto my back, I took a swath of material from my white cotton nightgown in one hand and ripped hard with what little energy I had. I dipped the material in the bucket of water and tied it around my head, positioning a triangle of fabric to cover my mouth and nose.

Although my movement was laboured, I eventually reached the ladder. The smoke had blackened higher up in the room, but I had to save Serefin. I pulled myself up onto one step, then the next, and then the next. I climbed higher with each pull of my arms; my legs became dead weight, but I clung. The higher I rose, the hotter it became, but I held the image of Serefin in my mind—her long black hair and sweet smile, the way she raised her dark brows thoughtfully when you told her a story she didn't quite believe. For a seven-year-old she was stubborn and clever.

As sisters we weren't always close, as she was the true opposite of me in every sense of the word. If she was dark, I was light. The skin on my hands warmed uncomfortably, and I began to choke as I smelt sulphur from my hair, beginning to sing. The flames were licking at the central wooden beams of our home, stroking their way through the knots and bends, consuming our lives.

My head swam with the lessened amount of air; in my dizzy imaginings, there was a sound of cracking wood and pounding feet on the tiled floor. But then my imaginings had hands that grasped painfully at my waist and pulled me from the ladder—a coldness to the grip that seeped through the cotton of my nightdress to my skin.

"She's here. I've got her." There was a shrillness to the voice, but the strength of the owner of the hands was obvious as they picked me up from the ladder effortlessly. I was then manoeuvred through the flames at speed as I kicked and twisted in the man's arms—I couldn't leave Serefin.

We were moving further and further away from my home and my sister. Serefin, Serefin, my screams were silent, and the pain in my throat was excruciating. I clawed at my captor to free me, but all my efforts were ignored.