Shards of darkness (watty awards 2012)

Anger takes root

Dhoulren awoke to the light of dawn streaming through the split of her tent. Bright and shinning, the sun on her ruined cheeks.  She had not slept. Sleep could never hold any festerling. Indeed no. Instead, she had simply let her mind go blank, to feel nothing but the sense of time passing. A smile did not fit well on her dead lips but smile she did. For the first time in her being, the other conscience had left her entirely. Through the daytime it had been silenced. Been scrunched up into a minute eternity inside the back of her mind but at night, it would extend poisonous tendrils of doubt and fear in to her thoughts when she had no Silver or Geuda to distract her. At first she was powerless as it pumped sheets of icy terror through her veins, but gradually, the spasms of misery grew weaker, the thoughts of pain less biting until she rolled over and thought of nothing until the sun arose. She had won and peace at last was hers. For a while, she lay in her blankets staring intently at the cream fabric of her tent ‘til she could gain no more pleasure of lying still to sustain her idleness. With something that could only described as a sigh of pleasure, she got up.

 It was still early so few people would cross her path as she made her way to the pavilion which served as Silver’s home. She liked that. Less unwanted stares. It made it easier for her bubble of joy to survive without having to contemplate the foul words brimming and busting from the minds of those who hated her, who blamed her for the evils of her kind. When there was no one else around, she could pretend she was amongst friends not with those who would gladly slip a sword inside her… 

 The way before her was empty of all but one small group of women. At first they looked surprised to see her and she them, but before they had walked away, the youngest woman, a girl in her mid teens raised her hand to her lips.

 “Havil Dhoulren. Grettgras.”

Dhoulren inclined her head, touched by the greeting “Nii Cha tuae Sawali, Thankee.”

Sawali smiled at her answer before walking on. Her peers followed on gobsmacked apart from one older woman who smiled at Sawali and turned to incline her head in a mock bow at Dhoulren. Dhoulren returned with a curtsy before moving on. She had met Sawali the previous day as she collected water for Silver, (an act she had been surprised with for he had more than was needed. She suspected he sent her out to integrate with the other people of the army, or Kalastians as the were called). When she got there, she found she could not work the pump, no matter how hard she tried. She was far too afraid to ask anyone and would have gone home to tell Silver of her problem, had not Sawali stepped forth to help her. Sawali explained that the pumps had been set up so that they could not be used by spies or enemies. So they had been made deliberately difficult to use. The pump was made of a dull silver metal, hammered together to form a neck that curved back on itself. It reminded Dhoulren very much of a fern shoot. To get water, first the neck had to be raised. This was done by flicking several short metal switches at its base.  To these Dhoulren had exclaimed surprise.

“Yes, I thought that too when I first saw it. Apparently they fell through a portal of ‘Coldfire’. A gift by the gods to help Kaa win this Blisted War.” Sawali sighed then smiled.

“Of course I don’t really believe that. It’s just a story. You would be surprised just how many facts are in fact suspicion-turn-theories by idle men who have enough money to say what ever they like. No one has time for that sort of rubbish here. Every one knows that the war will never end and why should it? With out war there is no need for Kaa and without Kaa there is no army and no where is anyone treating more with equality than here. Women here are actually treated like human beings. There’s no slaves. No sorrow…” She turned to look at Dhoulren before giving a little shriek.

“Oh Dekk forgive me! Lords above! I am sorry! How dare I talk like this is some sort of haven when here you are treated like krott by people ignorant of everything but their own Dekk-confounded prejudices for the unknown!” She was actually at the point of some distress when the pump turned violently and water surged down in a torrent of droplets. Cursing profusely, Sawali righted the fallen bucket and held it steady as it quickly filled with to the brim with clear, untainted liquid. She pushed down the pump’s neck and in an instant, the flow of water stilled.