PLEASE NOTE: I WILL BE DOING A REWRITE OF THIS STORY IN ORDER TO CHANGE FROM PRESENT TENSE TO PAST TENSE. The prologue will remain the same in the new version, however I think I would prefer to have this story in the past tense as it would flow better and I have some ideas for books 2 & 3 in this series! Hope you guys would be willing to read it a second time! I'm hoping that the new version will be much better. :)
Prologue.
A bolt of lightning cracked the dark sky above the valley in which the cruel city of Furdock kept itself buried away, in the rocky shadows between two towering mountains, illuminated by the stormy flashes that stretched across the night sky. Unceasing plumes of smoke escaped from the depths of the darkest labyrinth of narrow buildings and winding roads, failing to disguise the city’s existence in what was once a bountiful river bank, surrounded by forested hills.
Furdock wasn’t always like this. In fact, it was once known for its magnificent surroundings and the natural abundance of fir trees that covered the foothills of the snow topped mountains. However, they weren’t ordinary fir trees. They were much taller and had a paler, almost silvery bark, or so they were described in legends.
In the land that once surrounded the meandering river, before it dried up, before the land was captured by its inhabitants, the area of Furdock rested above a large area of sedimentary rock; layers of sediment squeezed and squashed together in the movements of the compressed earth over the passing of time. The first discoverers of the land, known as the Migrants in the stories, were fascinated by what they found as they passed through the valley thousands of years ago. Intrigued by the rocky outcrops that dotted the grassy banks of the river, the Migrants delayed their travels and set up camp beside the river. Their curiosity led them to investigate the shallow earth with hammers, chisels and pickaxes – all handmade tools of primitive materials, such as wood and flint bound together with dried reeds – and they found that several layers down in this underlying rock was a particularly fascinating formation they’d never come across before, which had a desirable appearance. Coal from the deterioration of ancient fir trees that, as believed from the legends of the Migrants, once formed an enchanted forest had infused with the crystalline minerals in the earth. The process of nature had created a rare form of dark rock that sparkled ceaselessly under light and could not be used in the ways that copper or iron would be, for it was too beautiful. The Migrants named this new phenomenon Furnic Quartzite.
The Migrants became obsessed with the unusual sparkling quality of this dark rock, and sensed that there was something mysterious about it, something that was yet to be discovered, but they swore themselves to secrecy that they would keep their discovery to themselves for the meantime, and so, they settled in the quiet valley and began the development of a small town known as Furdock, using the Furnic quartzite to decorate every aspect of it that they possibly could, from architecture to clothing to utensils and more.
As time went by and they continued to erect larger buildings, pave out more winding streets and cut down the forests for materials, word of the glistening village spread from traveller to traveller in the land. It wasn’t long before word had reached right across the region of Denvernia, which inevitably led to swarms of people from the surrounding settlements pouring into the valley to see the town that glistened, for themselves.
Needless to say, the town’s population rocketed, for the curiosity of travellers caused them to extend their visit until they decided to stay, and so, Furdock was no longer a small town, but rather a city, thriving with energy and fortune. With the phenomenon of this magnificent rock, the rising city flourished with a reputation of power, glamour and wealth throughout the region, and traded with cities even from across the more distant regions of Greater Denvor, such as Veron and Malkash. It was the golden era of Furdock, or the ‘Silver Years’, as the people called it, for the silver bark of these fir trees was the distinction of Furdock. Everybody in all of Greater Denvor knew about this remarkable place, even the capital city of Denvor named it the Silver City and admired it in all its glory.
But, as the population climbed, basic living resources became scarce and famine haunted the less wealthy band of citizens. The new citizens became greed-crazed at the temptation to obtain more Furnic quartzite to continue trading with the other regions for more vital materials and resources, and set up mining camps all along the valley. The mining camps were set to work by order of the New Citizens, who overruled the Migrants. The mining didn’t stop until the valley was eventually stripped of every essence or shard of this precious quartzite and, with this, the remainder of fir trees were destroyed in its extraction. Disgusted by the greed-stricken citizens of late and what they had done to the land, the Migrants gave themselves no choice but to leave the valley that had once been a haven known only to them. They were guilt ridden by what they had started, but knew that things had spiralled out beyond their control, and knew in their hearts that the valley was no longer a home to them, but rather an institutional ground in which they merely existed. They never returned to the valley.
The new citizens were relentless, the mining didn’t stop. They continued to dig deeper and deeper with their delusional determination to find the next layer of Furnic quartzite, but to their dismay they never found it. Thus, the once-utopian valley of green and silver was reduced to a blackened hole in the ground.
As an eerie passing of time left the citizens of Furdock bewildered at the sight of the now Hellish-looking landscape, it had suddenly dawned on them that they were responsible for the destruction of such a sacred area as a consequence of their own power-crazed greed. The elder generation were filled with sorrow, and many of the first miners turned to the bottle to drown their bitterness towards the generations below them, who were accused for the corruption of Furdock’s power and wealth.
As many working hands of Furdock’s people became idle, the crowded streets of Furdock became darkened with mischief and crime. The city’s trade links wavered as the neighbouring cities, who were once Furdock’s allies, had now become their superiors, and looked down on Furdock’s people with scorn for the way in which the tables had turned.
With this, it was finally discovered that the Furnic quartzite had no substantially unique quality about it other than its appearance, although it had started to erode in the years of cold, harsh winters under the rain and snowfall, and had lost its sparkle, to leave nothing but a coal-like substance, however, with no qualities worthy for practical use. The people of Furdock had learned a harsh lesson; appearance is deceiving.
Eventually, the power and energy of the town began to wither away until it became an ordinary town of bleakness, like the pitiful ashes from a fire with flames that once roared so tall, so spectacularly. Nothing remained but the shadows and a corrupt society, to remind them that the silver years were no more. For every winter that passed, the city seemed to lose a little more of its fading sparkle which left the citizens of Furdock eternally bereaved; their minds were always in winter. Many families and couples had decided to leave the city in streams of lantern-lit crowds, seeking a better place in which to live. Even when the summer sun glistened over the valley, Furdock remained in the shadows of everything that it once was, haunted by the ghosts of a previous time.
* * *
As those couples and families left the valley, many others waited with the withering hope that one day things would change, but nothing ever did. Just like the city’s notorious glory itself, their hope began to fade away. They became pessimistic, cruel minded and bitter towards their own kind; it was every man for himself, but there was nothing to be gained.
On one particularly cold February evening, in the dusty outer streets of Furdock city, the lingering silence was broken by the regular thud of galloping hooves.
He rode fast under the moon’s glow until he reached his destination: a small two story house on the corner beside a small wooden bridge crossing a small stream. The windows were boarded up and no light from within could be seen. Isaac watched the dust settle in his trail as he dismounted with a soft thud in his heavy boots, and tied his black horse to the wooden bannister of the small porch, before climbing the low steps to the hefty oak door. He tapped his knuckles against the door gently, trying not to make too much of a sound, and waited in the cold, as his frosty breath clouded at his lips and his nostrils. The door creaked open to reveal a bearded face with narrow eyes and a heavy brow. It was Isaac’s brother-in-law, Stephan.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Stephan whispered. “She did well”.
Agitated by Stephan’s comment, Isaac said nothing, but lowered his head slightly. He had never been fond of Stephan, he didn’t trust him, and Isaac wouldn’t have declined this invitation for the world. Isaac pushed against the door to let himself in, ensuring that he had closed it tightly behind him, before following Stephan down the warm, tunnel-like corridor that was dimly lit by the candle lanterns hanging from the narrow wooden beams above, towards the glowing threshold at the end.
He entered a fire lit living room with a kitchen area in the corner where he noticed an older woman washing her hands. By the intricately decorated fireplace lay the young woman whom he had grown up with, in a blanket holding her new-born baby to her chest. Stephen kneeled down behind her and clutched her safely in his arms.
“Isaac…” she uttered wearily.
“Would you like to meet your niece?” said Stephan a little gruffly after long hours of wake. As if in synchronisation, the new parents both looked up at Stephan with a warm intensity, as he halted before continuing to cross the room towards them. He was reluctant to reveal the small smile playing around his lips, but he let his tough exterior soften when the tiny baby’s murmur filled the silence between them. Isaac reached down and lifted the baby carefully from Marlena’s arms and held the small blanket wrapped bundle to his chest. He could just make out the tiny little heartbeat rapidly thudding against his own. He looked up.
“Name?” he uttered, attempting to hide the unexpected emotional break in his usual gruff voice.
“Lara” was the response. His late mother’s name.
“Welcome to the family, Lara Flynn” he said in no more than a low whisper, as he gazed into his gorgeous niece’s crystal blue eyes for a moment. Suddenly his expression changed and his brow furrowed with concern. “She’s so small…”
Lara let out a small wimper, so Isaac carefully returned her back to her mother’s arms with indications of a sympathetic smile. He stood tall and smiled down at her, but startled himself ever so slightly, as if a thought had suddenly prompted him about something he had to do. He reached under his heavy cloak deep into a pocket and pulled out a glistening silver chain with a suspended pendent of two intertwining fish – the Pisces symbol – and lowered himself to fit it carefully around Lara’s neck. He smiled at its sparkling appearance against her pale, unharmed flesh.
His attention was distracted by a reed-weaved basket resting on the windowsill, illuminated by a beam of moonlight from beyond the open window. Marlena attended to the baby’s needs as Isaac stepped curiously towards the basket. He peered in and frowned, stricken with confusion and sadness.
“Twins. This little gem wasn’t so lucky.” At the sink in the corner had stood the nurse washing her hands with her back to the room. Isaac felt her gentle hand place itself tenderly on his tense shoulder. He felt himself nod, understanding the nurse’s sombre words, and placed his thumb gently in the basket on the baby’s cold cheek. His eyes glistened with tears. Isaac noticed that, despite the bundle of thick blankets, this baby was much smaller than Lara.
“Still beautiful though” he sighed heavily.
“Indeed she is…” the nurse replied, as she tightened her grip on his shoulder reassuringly before returning to the happy mother’s side. Isaac looked through the window up at the sky that was dotted with glimmering stars, like tangled fireflies.
**
As the sky grew darker, Isaac headed back out into the silence of the dusty road. Marlena and Stephen stood at the threshold of their home, absorbed in the sweetness of their new life, as the nurse approached Isaac with her nimble hands clasping the handle of the weaved basket firmly. When Isaac had mounted his horse and finished adjusting his cloaks, she passed him the basket as she spoke.
“Are you sure you know the way?” she asked politely, to which Isaac chortled airily.
“I grew up in these hills, I know them like the back of my hand, Miss. Don’t you worry, she’ll be safe with me” he replied proudly,
“I don’t doubt that, she smiled and, with that, she assembled the extensive materials of his cloaks and secured the basket. She stepped back from the young man and his steed. Isaac raised his hand towards her in a small wave and then towards the silhouettes stood in the glow of the doorway.
“Ride safely” called Stephan. Isaac turned with a tap of his feet in the stirrups and galloped off smoothly and quietly into the darkness towards the shadowed hills.
After travelling for quite some time, Isaac came to a bay in the road where he dismounted, keeping a firm grip on the basket. “Don’t go anywhere” he whispered over his shoulder to his horse, receiving nothing but a low grunt in response. Still holding the basket close to his chest, Isaac stepped off the road and into the wilderness at the side of the path.
The frosted ground crunched beneath his heavy boots in the darkness enclosed under the forest canopy. In the time that passed, Isaac began to wonder what would have become of the small baby in his arms, if her life hadn’t been snatched away so soon, so cruelly. The forest began to thicken around him.
He pushed his way through the tall rushes until he began to see the aqua-blue glow that illuminated his pale cheekbones and the white encircling his particularly dark brown irises. He approached the glowing pool unhurriedly and kneeled by the twinkling water that reflected the stars above. Prudently, he placed the basket afloat in the water and reached again into is tunic pocket, pulling out another necklace. This one was different; the pendant was a blue stone shaped like a teardrop, suspended on a similar silver chain. Isaac placed it gently on top of the baby’s blankets where it glinted under the moonlight as it flickered between the rushes.
“This was for your mother…” he spoke softly, and rested his thumb on her cold cheek one last time. “Goodnight, darl’. This world is too cruel for a gem like you.” He gently pushed the basket out and watched it drift away, gliding silently on the still surface.
Several moments passed before Isaac finally recollected himself. With his large hands he pushed himself up and headed back through the rushes in the direction from which he came, attempting to hide his tracks in the loose earth behind him until it looked untouched.
In the years that followed, Lara grew up in the care of her parents under the crumbling roof of their small home on the edge of Furdock. Every day was a cyclical routine of feeding, washing, reading and sleeping. The only stories Lara could be told were the legends of the Ancient Migrants in books with pictures. However, the Council had revised the original legends to protect the new citizens, to prevent revolt. All the other stories were horror stories, too scary to Lara’s ears. There were stories of missing people, murders, executions and more. That was the place that Furdock had become.
As Lara grew up, things got worse. On the night she turned seven, she was awoken from her sleep with an almighty argument between her parents. She could hear her mother shouting in the kitchen. She was furious and, to make matters worse, was severely pregnant. Lara stood in the beam of light leaving the kitchen through the door into the hallway, and what she saw next was what changed everything. Her father, large and threatening, swung at Lara’s poor, vulnerable mother. She watched in shock as her mother fell to the ground. Her mother’s eyes met with Lara’s, wide with panic and fear.
The only words that her mother could utter in that moment were “Go, Lara” before the door swung shut, hiding the little girl’s troubled expression. In the darkness of the corridor, Lara strayed back to her chamber with her oversized nightgown dragging along the floorboards. When she reached her room, she climbed into her low bed and turned to the wall, hugging her damp pillow to console herself as her glistening tears began to fall.
The only friend Lara had in the world was her uncle, Isaac, but her father didn’t let them see each other.
One day, Lara would turn sixteen, and she would be expected to marry and settle. This was the only freedom she would ever know.
FURDOCK LAW
1) All girls must be married at 16 and must be expecting child in their 17th year.
2) Men must be married by their 18th birthday, once they have spent a year in the mines followed by a year in the service.
3) Parents who fail to inform their children of their duties at the required age will be prosecuted.
4) No citizen, under any circumstances, may be allowed to leave the boundaries of Furdock without permission scripts from the council, signed by the Head.