Forge of Verns

Prologue

June 6, 1906 AC

It seemed an ordinary day, awaiting her father's return from thievery. And yet, this day was to mark the beginning of events that would change her life, and in turn, her world. Lis Jaskolka huddled in an alleyway, surrounded by smooth stone walls four storeys in height. She shivered, her tattered grey rags offering no protection against the cold. The sun had set, the skies were grey, coated with clouds that formed a turbulent sea. She winced as her stomach screamed, yet she could offer it nothing. She glanced at Pavel, a low-ranking member of her father's gang. He was like her, a skeleton clad in rags. His scraggly grey hair and short matted beard did little to disguise his skull-like head. 

He glanced at her and his brown eyes sparkled and he managed a weak smile in her direction. Lis returned it, scratching her tattered, wavy locks. Her hair, once gold, was now covered with dust, turning it a dirty brown. And yet, she was hardly unique. She looked deeper into the alleyway. The ground was made of light brown cobblestones, coated with cracks and dust. Here and there, puddles had formed and around the puddles were people. They were like her, gaunt with hollow, sunken eyes. They too were clad in rags, filled with so many holes they were more ribbons than anything else. Some whispered to each other. Some drank from the puddles. Others sought whatever sleep they could. 

No, she couldn't call them people, though of course, she couldn't call herself a person either. They were all gadzina, members of the lower caste of society. They were seen as subhuman, equal to animals, their lives meaningless to the ruling nobles. That was reflected in the name the nobles had given them, gadzina. It was a word that meant vermin. Lis shuddered at the thought. As she examined the gadzina again, she noted that some were completely motionless. She couldn't even see the rising and falling of their chests or flanks. They were dead. Through the openings in their rags, she saw that they had partly rotted away. Clumps of sickly skin hung from open wounds, exposing dark pink flesh. Rats scurried amongst the gadzina, having grown fat from eating corpses. They moved with frightening speed, their beady dark eyes eagerly seeking nourishment. 

"Avert your eyes Lis. This is not something a child needs to see," said Pavel. 

"It's fine Pavel," said Lis. "I see it all the time after all. And I'm not that young." 

"Nonsense," said Pavel, as he laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You are still only nine. There's much you haven't seen yet. They," he said, gesturing at the huddled gadzina, "have far worse fates they could have met. They might have been the next ofiaries after all." 

Lis nodded. Each year, every year, the nobles snatch ofiaries from the gadzina. The ofiaries, sacrifices, were to have their souls extracted. The souls were used to improve the health of noble children whilst the unfortunate gadzina perish from the process. Lis looked again at the gadzina, shivering as the first drops of rain descended. She cursed the nobles. They had everything, yet gave nothing in return. And yet, they could snatch whatever gadzina they wanted and steal their very lives! That thought alone made her sick. Her stomach turned and she clenched her fists. Her shoulders tensed, bones jabbing at her skin, until she relaxed in defeat. There was nothing she could do. The nobles were gifted with the power of vernbinding, and the gadzina were not. 

Just then, she heard footsteps, silent as an owl's wings. She snuck a glance around the corner of the wall, her eyes gazing upon the streets. The streets were four carriages wide, nestled between rows of trees. The dark leafed trees were interspersed between streetlamps, each of which bore twin lights. The orange lights were soothing, casting long, gentle shadows over the cobblestones that made the road and sidewalks. Around were other buildings, averaging four storeys in height, forged from lightly coloured stone and bearing intricate carvings. 

She saw her father, Dominik, sneak from shadow to shadow. He wore a plain brown coat and a tattered bowler hat. His black trousers and boots seemed to merge with the darkness and his golden hair seemed to disappear in light. He darted into the alleyway, brown eyes ablaze. He was alone. There was no sign of his five men. 

"Daddy?" said Lis, trembling at his appearance. "What happened? Where's everyone else?" 

He gave no reply, but clutched as his side. As Lis twisted her head, she could see blood coating his fingers. His coat was torn on the side by vicious claws. The tattered brown wool was caked in scarlet. Lis widened her eyes in terror and he promptly covered her mouth. His hand was like iron wrapped around her face.

He released his grip, slowly and gently, saying "be silent for me Lis. We can't afford to draw attention!" 

Lis nodded. Then, with his other hand, her father withdrew a fruit from his pocket. It was gold in colour, about as big as an egg, and was tipped with dark green leaves. Its sides were almost crystalline yet flexed as if it were rubber. Dominik shoved the fruit towards Lis, saying "it's a fruit from a Zlotine tree." 

Lis needed no further prompting. She eagerly devoured the fruit, which at last extinguished her hunger. When she had finished, her father suddenly embraced her, his thin frame disguising great strength. "It's simply unforgivable!" he muttered as he released her from his arms. "Those nobles are nothing more than monsters! They call us scum, equal only to beasts of burden, and yet, they kill us for the flimsiest of reasons!" 

"I know daddy," said Lis, her eyes turning again to the other gadzina. "But what can we do about it? They have vernbinding, wealth, and anything they want. What can we do against that?" 

"I don't know. I'm a mere thief after all. However, I do know one thing. There once was a time, not long ago, when nobles were equal to gadzina. This country was once divided in two: Vryland to the east and Skonessia to the west. The nobles came from Vryland and conquered Skonessia, devouring it to become the Vryland we know today. And yet, I believe we can return to that time, a time when we were equal and could walk free." 

Freedom. It was such a tantalizing word, almost mythical, like something from a dream. She knew what it meant, yet Lis could not picture it in her mind. She recalled her surname, Jaskolka, a word that meant swallow. Her father had chosen it for their family and it seemed very appropriate. They were like birds, trapped in the nobles' cage. Freedom seemed an impossibility. 

Then, her father stiffened. He stepped away from her, then whispered "goodbye my dear."

"Where are you going?" asked Lis. 

His answer was cut off by a fearsome shriek, sounding like claws raking down a pane of glass. Her heart sank as she recognized the creature that made it. It was a skoloss, a hideous beast formed from corpse parts merged together. The creature had the head of a wolf and the body of a man with skin in the midst of decay. Holes in its skin granted Lis a view of the creature's ribs and inner organs. Thunderous steps struck the stone as the creature hurtled closer and closer towards them. 

Dominik placed a hand on Lis's head, gifting her with one final smile. He then said "Pavel. Take her out of here." 

And with that, he turned and left, dashing back out into the streets. Lis reached out to him, tears streaming down her face. She wanted to scream but Pavel's powerful hand clamped over her mouth. He carried her away as she struggled to break free, desperate to be with her father. 

As she twisted, her left eye caught a glimpse of the street. She saw her father, a thin silhouette against the stone walls of nearby buildings. And then, dozens of hideous beasts fell upon him, sinking their teeth into his flesh. The wretched creatures were amalgamations of corpse parts from all manner of beasts. They were given life through the power of vernbinding, heralds of the nobles' vicious power. 

Her father hung limp in their jaws, a little skeleton, scarcely visible amongst the maelstrom of beasts. She longed for nothing more than to stop it, pulling against Pavel's grip, tears flying off her face before her strength left her and she hung limp. Her mind seeing nothing but cold, empty blackness and the flames of seething rage.