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rainbowfic2014-06-10 03:24 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2014-06-10 03:24 pm
Cinnabar #4, Xanadu #9
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Eighth Saimar
Colors: Cinnabar #4 (salt), Xanadu #9 (Shangri-La)
Styles/Supplies: Frame, Seed Beads
Word Count: 705
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: The welcome was not what Trenna expected.
Note: Originally from my March prompt call. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
The door to the hold of the ship opened, pouring light into the dark space and making Trenna’s eyes hurt. Around her, the other children whimpered, and their soft cries grew to screaming as armored soldiers pounded down the wooden steps, brandishing swords and daggers and shouting at each other in a language Trenna knew only a few words of, and not well enough to follow anything they were saying.
The last half-day she had spent miserable and terrified, while something outside roared deafeningly and the ship rocked. Then it had all stopped, and they were all still alive and above water, and it seemed there was no more to be afraid of. Trenna had faith in Jarol. If his ships had been attacked, he would win the day.
But that did not seem to be the case.
The soldiers in the front of the pack stopped dead when they saw the children. One solder spat out a word which Trenna did recognize: it was a curse word, one she had heard Jarol say before. He had refused to give her a translation despite her begging, but she had supposed it was enough to know it was not a word to use in polite company.
Then things happened quickly, as if the curse had shocked everyone back into their own heads. More soldiers flooded the hold, and the children screamed in fear as they were dragged to their feet and taken above deck. Some of them had to be carried.
Trenna stood, trying not to shake, trying to show the soldiers she was cooperative, but she was grabbed roughly by the arm anyway and marched up the steps. It had been more than a day since she had felt the sun and smelled the bitter sea, but she had hardly a moment to take it all in before she bundled was off the gangplank and deposited on a dock.
She had expected a great city on the shores of the sea; Jarol had told her so much about his home Spirathua, the greatest city in the world, and she had longed for so many days and hours to see it with her own eyes, to go to a place that would teach her how to control the thing she so recently would have instead been put to death for. But she was clearly not in Spirathua now. There was only one dock, then a field with a road, and in the distance a tiny cluster of buildings. Trenna frowned. “Are we going to Spirathua?” she asked,speaking slowly in the language Jarol had half-taught her, turning around to look at the soldier who still held her arm.
As she caught sight of the ocean, though, her breath caught in her throat.
There was nothing but ships, all the way to the horizon. Unfamiliar ships, bigger than any she had seen before, their prows painted bright colors and their sails a deep red. And other ships, more familiar ones—the rest of the fleet her ship had been part of.
It was destroyed. The ships still afloat had great holes blasted in their sides, listing slowly as they filled with water. Of some only the masts could still be seen, the remainder of the vessel sitting in the shallow mud at the bottom. Some ships had toppled over to their sides, their proud white sails dragging through the water. The foreign ships, she saw now, were pulling people from the sea. Her people, the ones who had survived the sinking ships.
A crack sounded, and Trenna bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. No, they weren't pulling survivors from the water.
She couldn't pretend she was no longer scared. “What will you do?” she said, not having the words for anything query more complex. Were they being taken somewhere to be killed? Why not just kill them there? These people clearly had no problem doing their killing out in the open.
“Please,” she said. “Please do not kill. We are here for the school. The Academy. Jarol said you would welcome. Why did you attack?”
But the soldier merely barked another incomprehensible order at her, and took her arm again to drag her up the dock.
kay_brookeStory: The Eighth Saimar
Colors: Cinnabar #4 (salt), Xanadu #9 (Shangri-La)
Styles/Supplies: Frame, Seed Beads
Word Count: 705
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: The welcome was not what Trenna expected.
Note: Originally from my March prompt call. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
The door to the hold of the ship opened, pouring light into the dark space and making Trenna’s eyes hurt. Around her, the other children whimpered, and their soft cries grew to screaming as armored soldiers pounded down the wooden steps, brandishing swords and daggers and shouting at each other in a language Trenna knew only a few words of, and not well enough to follow anything they were saying.
The last half-day she had spent miserable and terrified, while something outside roared deafeningly and the ship rocked. Then it had all stopped, and they were all still alive and above water, and it seemed there was no more to be afraid of. Trenna had faith in Jarol. If his ships had been attacked, he would win the day.
But that did not seem to be the case.
The soldiers in the front of the pack stopped dead when they saw the children. One solder spat out a word which Trenna did recognize: it was a curse word, one she had heard Jarol say before. He had refused to give her a translation despite her begging, but she had supposed it was enough to know it was not a word to use in polite company.
Then things happened quickly, as if the curse had shocked everyone back into their own heads. More soldiers flooded the hold, and the children screamed in fear as they were dragged to their feet and taken above deck. Some of them had to be carried.
Trenna stood, trying not to shake, trying to show the soldiers she was cooperative, but she was grabbed roughly by the arm anyway and marched up the steps. It had been more than a day since she had felt the sun and smelled the bitter sea, but she had hardly a moment to take it all in before she bundled was off the gangplank and deposited on a dock.
She had expected a great city on the shores of the sea; Jarol had told her so much about his home Spirathua, the greatest city in the world, and she had longed for so many days and hours to see it with her own eyes, to go to a place that would teach her how to control the thing she so recently would have instead been put to death for. But she was clearly not in Spirathua now. There was only one dock, then a field with a road, and in the distance a tiny cluster of buildings. Trenna frowned. “Are we going to Spirathua?” she asked,speaking slowly in the language Jarol had half-taught her, turning around to look at the soldier who still held her arm.
As she caught sight of the ocean, though, her breath caught in her throat.
There was nothing but ships, all the way to the horizon. Unfamiliar ships, bigger than any she had seen before, their prows painted bright colors and their sails a deep red. And other ships, more familiar ones—the rest of the fleet her ship had been part of.
It was destroyed. The ships still afloat had great holes blasted in their sides, listing slowly as they filled with water. Of some only the masts could still be seen, the remainder of the vessel sitting in the shallow mud at the bottom. Some ships had toppled over to their sides, their proud white sails dragging through the water. The foreign ships, she saw now, were pulling people from the sea. Her people, the ones who had survived the sinking ships.
A crack sounded, and Trenna bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. No, they weren't pulling survivors from the water.
She couldn't pretend she was no longer scared. “What will you do?” she said, not having the words for anything query more complex. Were they being taken somewhere to be killed? Why not just kill them there? These people clearly had no problem doing their killing out in the open.
“Please,” she said. “Please do not kill. We are here for the school. The Academy. Jarol said you would welcome. Why did you attack?”
But the soldier merely barked another incomprehensible order at her, and took her arm again to drag her up the dock.