“I’ll make sure to point one at grandmama, then,” she said as she turned over to the sink, and began to wash the steel.
“I’m sure she’d laugh at that,” her mother giggled, “then she’d put you right in your place.”
The water flowed over the steel, the layer of dark and light gray swirling around each other as the water sparkled in the fire light. Down it flowed the edge of the blade, dripping into the water below. Aya felt like she was being pulled in, like something was holding her head in place, locking on the glimmering steel. The voice of her mother sounded far away, muffled behind several invisible walls. The stone edges of the sink fell away as the knife loamed in front of her, the minute details of the metal becoming clearer and clearer.
Somehow, she could see each and every drop of water, where it was flowing, the tiny currents as it splashed down the edge and dropped into the dark water below. The fire light flickered, burning the edges of her vision with red and yellows and then… and then…
She was somewhere else.
The fire light had grown and multiplied, spilling on into a inferno that surrounding her. She could feel the heat beating against her face, the flames cracking around her. She felt taller, stronger, older somehow, and in front of her the knife glittered. But now it was longer, sharper, made of a dark steel that shifted with the fire light. Various colours played across its surface, like pine oil over one of the puddles from the snow melt.
And there was a weight around her heart, gripping and crushing it, tearing it away from her ribs. She tumbled backward, feeling the ground fall away from underneath her and the air rushing past her ears. The her world snapped back into definition, as if she had uncrossed her eyes. She was staring up the face of her mother, eyes wide with concern.
“Abethein, aidga othlo-kascietch!” she exclaimed. Aya could almost understand the words, but their meaning drifted away into darkness as she struggled to get up.
“Oh goodness, Aya, you clumsy girl. You nearly stopped my heart. What have I told you about your footing?” she said quickly as she helped her daughter to a sitting position.
“I thought I was-, I thought- I saw-” Aya said, her throat unbearably dry. Then the first wave of pain began to flow through her mind. It felt like some burning grub was wriggling around under the skin of her hands, working its way slowly up her palms. She looked down and saw the scars yawning wide, pitted flesh sloping down and parting as a pale light shined through.
“What are you talking abou-” started her mother, before turned to look at the scars.
“Aya… what is that?” she said, breathless as she watched the flesh pulse and part.
“I-I don’t know,” Aya said as she winced from the pain, “it hurts.”
“I-I’ll get the doctor,” she said, helping her daughter up to her feet and onto a chair. Aya wanted to beg her mother to stay as she pulled on a shawl and rushed to the door, to hold her. But she could barely speak as the pain began to crawl up her hand, the scars opening in tandem.
As the door slammed shut, whispers began to swirl around her house, dark shouts and screams that didn’t come from anywhere. Aya felt like people where behind and around, bearing down on her. Fragments became more and more clear as the whispers increased in number and intensity, and aboe them all, a hideous anger and fear began to smolder in her chest, a fury unlike anything she’d experienced before. Why would her mother abandon her to the pain like this?
She tried to get up, to run, but the voices weren’t letting her get away. They dragged at her, causing her to stumbled and crash into the counter. Her legs felt completely numb,all feeling had been robbed by the onslaught of the pain. Her knees slammed into the ground as the fires began to run up her shoulders. All she could do was huddle, curled up as she pressed herself in the cool stone. She tried to scream once or twice, to call for her mother, but her jaw was as heavy as a block of lead.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes into hours and her arms burned. Far away, she heard the door open through the rabid whispering, rapid footsteps, some words. She was picked up and laid down on a table, her legs twitching uncontrollable, snatches of conversation flying past her.
“My, my, she’s-”
“Please, please plea-”
“Let’s just-”
There was a feeling like something snapped in her arm, another range of pain to add to the pile. This time, she managed a weak moan, her world seeming to spin as tears streaked across her cheek. Slowly however, the pain seem to fall back like a searing tide. She braced herself as well as she could, but the return never came. Slowly, she was raised to half-sitting, half-lying. Something cool and wet touched her lips, and she gulped slowly as water trickled into her mouth. Something soft dabbed at her cheeks as the voices resolved itself into just two, her mother, begging her to speak, and a softer voice calling her name.
“-hear me, Aya?”
“Aya, please talk to me,” her mother sobbed.
Slowly her eyes cleared, and she found herself face-to-face with an unbelievable beautiful man, with pale hair and eyes like a pair of rubies. She tried to push away, to move, to do anything, but her body felt like something she merely inhabited rather than controlled.
“Can you tell me your name?” said the man.
“Aya, my nams…” she mumbled.
“What do you feel right now, Aya?”
“Numb,” she said slowly.
“Excellent,” said the man, his eyes glittering in a way that made her uncomfortable, “now let’s see what’s wrong with you, shall we?”
She was laid back, feeling her mother take her hand. The man began to feel her fingers, moving them very carefully, glancing close at the scars, asking her questions about what hurt and where and how much. After some time, he stood up and asked her about how this had started, so she told him as best she could: the knife, the burning place, the fall, and finally the pain. He stood, elegance in every line as he grasped his smooth jaw, frowning in thought as his eyes swept over her arms.
“Well, doctor?” her mother said, “is she going to be alright?”
The man pressed his fingers together as a slim smile played across his lips.
“For now, most likely. You are lucky that I was here to intercede, as you would’ve found traditional remedies quite ineffective.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“There is nothing out of the ordinary with your daughter’s body, not physically, at least. Well, one of the bones in her arms was in an poor orientation, but I fixed that for her.”
“You- you what?”
“No, the problem is far more esoteric, I’m afraid,” the man pressed on, leaving her mother’s question unanswered.
“What happened to me?” asked Aya, her voice a little clearer now.
“To not make too fine a point of it, your daughter’s been cursed.”
“Cursed?” her mother hissed.
“Well, as far as I can judge. I have seen curses upon the body before, but this is different. You say she has had this since birth?”
Her mother nodded as she glared at the scars, now closed over and shadowed.
“Hmmm, now this is a problem. I am sorry to inform you that this curse, or whatever magic has been used to inflict this upon you Aya is well beyond my area of speciality. If only I had…”
The man trailed off, looking at the ceiling as he was lost in thought. Then their crimson lips parted and straight white teeth stood sharp in the firelight.
“Tell me, what do you know about the master of the Frozen Vale?”
Her mother stiffened at the name, and Aya knew full well why. The Frozen Vale was a place of dark stories - savage beasts and cruel men stalked the valley that cut into the northern heart of the Giant’s Spine. And those were not the worst of it - people claimed that it had a master, a powerful creature that had no equal and used dark sorcery to wreak havoc on villages at the Vale’s borders. Aya had always viewed the stories as meant for children, to ensure that they didn’t wander to far afield.
“Nothing but stories. Few here set foot in the Vale, for good reason as far as I know.”
“A shame, the forests there are gorgeous,” said the man, earning him a confused glance from both mother and daughter, “in any case, I happen to call on him every now and then.”
The revelation caused both of them to shrink away from him, even without them realizing it.
“He is not half as bad as the rumours say. Loves tea, almost too much if I’m being honest” he said with a high and pure laugh, “but, why am I recommending you seeking him out?”
At that, Aya felt her mother clutch her a little closer.
“Let us just say he is far more well-versed in this subject than I am. If anyone can help your daughter this side of the sea, it would be him.”
“And what exactly would we have to pay him for this help?” said her mother.
The man hmmmed and glanced at the both of them. There was something keen in his eyes, a quality that was like a knife’s edge.
“He would not be expecting gold, not from you two. So it would have to be…” he clapped his hands sharply, “Ah-ha! Books.”
“Books?” her mother frowned.
“Yes. Well, knowledge, learning, things of that variety. He sometimes spends years in his library. He might actually help your daughter out of curiosity alone. Actually, allow me to make a suggestion - the person you’re looking for is named ‘Efrain’. If you find him, tell him that ‘Carnes’ sent you his way, and that he says that you’re quite interesting.”
“I’ll make sure to point one at grandmama, then,” she said as she turned over to the sink, and began to wash the steel.
“I’m sure she’d laugh at that,” her mother giggled, “then she’d put you right in your place.”
The water flowed over the steel, the layer of dark and light gray swirling around each other as the water sparkled in the fire light. Down it flowed the edge of the blade, dripping into the water below. Aya felt like she was being pulled in, like something was holding her head in place, locking on the glimmering steel. The voice of her mother sounded far away, muffled behind several invisible walls. The stone edges of the sink fell away as the knife loamed in front of her, the minute details of the metal becoming clearer and clearer.
Somehow, she could see each and every drop of water, where it was flowing, the tiny currents as it splashed down the edge and dropped into the dark water below. The fire light flickered, burning the edges of her vision with red and yellows and then… and then…
She was somewhere else.
The fire light had grown and multiplied, spilling on into a inferno that surrounding her. She could feel the heat beating against her face, the flames cracking around her. She felt taller, stronger, older somehow, and in front of her the knife glittered. But now it was longer, sharper, made of a dark steel that shifted with the fire light. Various colours played across its surface, like pine oil over one of the puddles from the snow melt.
And there was a weight around her heart, gripping and crushing it, tearing it away from her ribs. She tumbled backward, feeling the ground fall away from underneath her and the air rushing past her ears. The her world snapped back into definition, as if she had uncrossed her eyes. She was staring up the face of her mother, eyes wide with concern.
“Abethein, aidga othlo-kascietch!” she exclaimed. Aya could almost understand the words, but their meaning drifted away into darkness as she struggled to get up.
“Oh goodness, Aya, you clumsy girl. You nearly stopped my heart. What have I told you about your footing?” she said quickly as she helped her daughter to a sitting position.
“I thought I was-, I thought- I saw-” Aya said, her throat unbearably dry. Then the first wave of pain began to flow through her mind. It felt like some burning grub was wriggling around under the skin of her hands, working its way slowly up her palms. She looked down and saw the scars yawning wide, pitted flesh sloping down and parting as a pale light shined through.
“What are you talking abou-” started her mother, before turned to look at the scars.
“Aya… what is that?” she said, breathless as she watched the flesh pulse and part.
“I-I don’t know,” Aya said as she winced from the pain, “it hurts.”
“I-I’ll get the doctor,” she said, helping her daughter up to her feet and onto a chair. Aya wanted to beg her mother to stay as she pulled on a shawl and rushed to the door, to hold her. But she could barely speak as the pain began to crawl up her hand, the scars opening in tandem.
As the door slammed shut, whispers began to swirl around her house, dark shouts and screams that didn’t come from anywhere. Aya felt like people where behind and around, bearing down on her. Fragments became more and more clear as the whispers increased in number and intensity, and aboe them all, a hideous anger and fear began to smolder in her chest, a fury unlike anything she’d experienced before. Why would her mother abandon her to the pain like this?
She tried to get up, to run, but the voices weren’t letting her get away. They dragged at her, causing her to stumbled and crash into the counter. Her legs felt completely numb,all feeling had been robbed by the onslaught of the pain. Her knees slammed into the ground as the fires began to run up her shoulders. All she could do was huddle, curled up as she pressed herself in the cool stone. She tried to scream once or twice, to call for her mother, but her jaw was as heavy as a block of lead.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes into hours and her arms burned. Far away, she heard the door open through the rabid whispering, rapid footsteps, some words. She was picked up and laid down on a table, her legs twitching uncontrollable, snatches of conversation flying past her.
“My, my, she’s-”
“Please, please plea-”
“Let’s just-”
There was a feeling like something snapped in her arm, another range of pain to add to the pile. This time, she managed a weak moan, her world seeming to spin as tears streaked across her cheek. Slowly however, the pain seem to fall back like a searing tide. She braced herself as well as she could, but the return never came. Slowly, she was raised to half-sitting, half-lying. Something cool and wet touched her lips, and she gulped slowly as water trickled into her mouth. Something soft dabbed at her cheeks as the voices resolved itself into just two, her mother, begging her to speak, and a softer voice calling her name.
“-hear me, Aya?”
“Aya, please talk to me,” her mother sobbed.
Slowly her eyes cleared, and she found herself face-to-face with an unbelievable beautiful man, with pale hair and eyes like a pair of rubies. She tried to push away, to move, to do anything, but her body felt like something she merely inhabited rather than controlled.
“Can you tell me your name?” said the man.
“Aya, my nams…” she mumbled.
“What do you feel right now, Aya?”
“Numb,” she said slowly.
“Excellent,” said the man, his eyes glittering in a way that made her uncomfortable, “now let’s see what’s wrong with you, shall we?”
She was laid back, feeling her mother take her hand. The man began to feel her fingers, moving them very carefully, glancing close at the scars, asking her questions about what hurt and where and how much. After some time, he stood up and asked her about how this had started, so she told him as best she could: the knife, the burning place, the fall, and finally the pain. He stood, elegance in every line as he grasped his smooth jaw, frowning in thought as his eyes swept over her arms.
“Well, doctor?” her mother said, “is she going to be alright?”
The man pressed his fingers together as a slim smile played across his lips.
“For now, most likely. You are lucky that I was here to intercede, as you would’ve found traditional remedies quite ineffective.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“There is nothing out of the ordinary with your daughter’s body, not physically, at least. Well, one of the bones in her arms was in an poor orientation, but I fixed that for her.”
“You- you what?”
“No, the problem is far more esoteric, I’m afraid,” the man pressed on, leaving her mother’s question unanswered.
“What happened to me?” asked Aya, her voice a little clearer now.
“To not make too fine a point of it, your daughter’s been cursed.”
“Cursed?” her mother hissed.
“Well, as far as I can judge. I have seen curses upon the body before, but this is different. You say she has had this since birth?”
Her mother nodded as she glared at the scars, now closed over and shadowed.
“Hmmm, now this is a problem. I am sorry to inform you that this curse, or whatever magic has been used to inflict this upon you Aya is well beyond my area of speciality. If only I had…”
The man trailed off, looking at the ceiling as he was lost in thought. Then their crimson lips parted and straight white teeth stood sharp in the firelight.
“Tell me, what do you know about the master of the Frozen Vale?”
Her mother stiffened at the name, and Aya knew full well why. The Frozen Vale was a place of dark stories - savage beasts and cruel men stalked the valley that cut into the northern heart of the Giant’s Spine. And those were not the worst of it - people claimed that it had a master, a powerful creature that had no equal and used dark sorcery to wreak havoc on villages at the Vale’s borders. Aya had always viewed the stories as meant for children, to ensure that they didn’t wander to far afield.
“Nothing but stories. Few here set foot in the Vale, for good reason as far as I know.”
“A shame, the forests there are gorgeous,” said the man, earning him a confused glance from both mother and daughter, “in any case, I happen to call on him every now and then.”
The revelation caused both of them to shrink away from him, even without them realizing it.
“He is not half as bad as the rumours say. Loves tea, almost too much if I’m being honest” he said with a high and pure laugh, “but, why am I recommending you seeking him out?”
At that, Aya felt her mother clutch her a little closer.
“Let us just say he is far more well-versed in this subject than I am. If anyone can help your daughter this side of the sea, it would be him.”
“And what exactly would we have to pay him for this help?” said her mother.
The man hmmmed and glanced at the both of them. There was something keen in his eyes, a quality that was like a knife’s edge.
“He would not be expecting gold, not from you two. So it would have to be…” he clapped his hands sharply, “Ah-ha! Books.”
“Books?” her mother frowned.
“Yes. Well, knowledge, learning, things of that variety. He sometimes spends years in his library. He might actually help your daughter out of curiosity alone. Actually, allow me to make a suggestion - the person you’re looking for is named ‘Efrain’. If you find him, tell him that ‘Carnes’ sent you his way, and that he says that you’re quite interesting.”
