Hi everyone,
This is the same story as my first post, but with a lot of editing done to it. I tried to take as much of the criticism that was given to me the first time and put it into the story. This time it's only the first chapter. But it's still quite lengthy so I understand if not many people read it.
H - if you read this, yes I know it still opens with weather, but that's how it's going to stay for now. So you don't need to say how much you dislike that part :P I know you hate forecast starts.
Please critique! Be as brutal as you want. I can handle it!
Chapter one
The oil lamps that lit the muddy street flickered in the wind as a storm slowly rolled towards the city. Dark clouds blocked out the final rays of the setting sun. Lightning flashed, followed by a peal of thunder. I watched as the few vendors that were left on the street hurried to close their carts, yelling of low prices to rid themselves of their last lingering products. Most people had already run for shelter, either to their homes or ducking into nearby restaurants or pubs.
I flipped the hood of my cloak up over my head, and pulled the rest of it tighter around my body. I lifted each leg a few times in an attempt to warm them up. I thought longingly about how much warmer I would be if I had stockings, or at least boots without holes in them. I stared down at my poorly dressed feet and sighed. I could see my wiggling toes through the cracks at the end of my beat-up boots.
My gaze shifted back to the street in time to see a few street lamps blow out as the wind picked up. Most of the vendors had closed and were making their ways home, except for one. It was a fortune teller’s cart. It had black symbols painted on the wood and was draped in vibrant hangings that billowed in the wind. The inside of the stall was covered in strange tapestries with symbols that matched the ones decorating the outside. A small candle burned at the center of a table covered in a purple cloth. A woman sat behind the table. I studied her closely; she looked to be in her early thirties. Her wavy black hair fell well past her shoulders. Her eyes were shadowed and serious. Her lips were small but full and under an equally small nose. Her skin was dark with an olive undertone, suggesting that she was from across the sea. She had on a deep green dress that tied behind her neck. A black shawl covered her shoulders; a small piece of modesty clothing. I could see that she was focused on her hands which were busy sorting through colourfully painted cards.
Suddenly, her head snapped up and she scanned the street until her gaze landed on me. She flashed a kind smile, showing off two rows of straight, white teeth. With one long graceful finger she beckoned, inviting me to join her. I hesitated, taking a step back further into the shadows. In all my twenty years, I had become sceptical and I was hard pressed to trust people that I did not know. However, against my better judgment, I found my feet shuffling across the narrow street towards the booth. Her smile stayed in place as I crept closer. I paused outside the shelter, still wary. The increasing wind pulled at my cloak, causing me to shiver. The small shelter did look much more welcoming than any place I had slept in lately. The woman kept smiling and motioned for me to take a seat on the stool across from her. Nervously, I stepped into the stall. I sigh escaped my lips when I instantly began to warm up once I was beneath her cover. It was just large enough for me to be completely shielded from the cold air. Again, the fortune teller motioned for me to sit on the stool, so I sat, clasping my hands in my lap. I shook my head so that my hood would fall and I would be able to see things more clearly. The small shack was quiet—too quiet. I looked behind me and could see that rain was now falling, the wind causing it to fly sideways, but I could not hear the storm as it grew stronger.
“Welcome, Rayne,” she said warmly. “I’ve been waiting some time for you.” I jumped and turned back to her when she said my name, the silence of the small box quickly forgotten. Had we met before? She could read the confusion in my eyes because she chuckled and added, “I have Seen our encounter happening in my cards. I have also had vision-like dreams, preparing me for this moment.”
I frowned at her, but stayed silent. People with magical abilities made my skin crawl. All that magic did was hurt people. I had seen it enough to be sure of that.
The woman gave me a moment to absorb what she had said before continuing. “My name is Dria. I am a fortune teller.” She paused again, and then added, “I can tell that you are not comfortable in my presence and it is not just because I am a stranger.” I met her gaze evenly, even though my hands shook. She was perceptive.
She smiled at my bland expression. “Do not fret, child. I am no threat to you. I was sent to help guide you down the right path, so you may start your life’s true journey.”
I couldn’t help but ask, “My journey?” I was a street rat, scum, nothing. My one lot in life was stealing to stay alive. I had no skills, no education. The only reason I was able to speak proper English and read was because my mother and father had hoped for better things for me. They had thought that maybe if I sounded rich, it would one day happen—a lot of good that had done me.
“Yes, Rayne. You are meant for better things than living on the streets and fighting every day for your life. You have unexplored talents. It is up to you to discover what those talents are. Search yourself, Rayne. Search your past. All the answers are there, once you realize what you’re looking for.”
I couldn’t speak. All I could do was stare at her, baffled. What on earth was she talking about? I had no potential. I had no talents. I was nothing; the only things that I hoped for were living through the coming winter, and to find a pair of stockings, or a pair of boots without holes.
She reached across the small table and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. A shock went through my body as my vision blurred. My surroundings twisted and folded until I was suddenly in a small room. To my left, a woman lay on a bed, with an infant in her arms. She rocked the child back and forth gently while a man stood protectively, but lovingly over them. I went cold. I recognized where I was and I knew I didn’t want to be there. Panic started to bubble up in my throat and my palms began to sweat. Watch carefully, Rayne, a voice said seemingly from inside my head. I then realized that Dria was showing me a vision. It had to be her; there was no other explanation. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat; it was suddenly clear to me what she meant by my abilities.
I could hear soft singing coming from the young mother. It was a pretty lullaby, one that was common throughout the lower city. It was a song asking the gods for protection and good luck for a mother’s child.
Suddenly, the mother stopped singing as a terrible cough took over. The man held a dirty towel to her mouth. His eyes were sad, but his movements were decisive. She had been coughing up whatever was in her lungs for a long time. He steadied her with one arm around her shoulders while she continued to cough. Finally, the fit ended. Tears streamed down her face as she fought to breathe.
The baby in her arms did not stir. I of course knew why; it was dead. An invisible force moved me closer to the bed. I fought hard but it did no good. Soon I was near enough that I was able to see the baby’s blue lips and grey-tinged skin.
I heard a floor board creak behind me and turned around. A young girl, no more than a toddler, stood in the doorway that separated the parents’ room from the rest of the house. She had black hair that reached down to the middle of her back with odd blue streaks in it. Her eyes were a startling sapphire blue framed in dark lashes. Her skin was pale and porcelain like, with full red lips and a straight, proud nose that she would one day grow into.
I stared at my three year old self and felt my insides turn to stone; I didn’t want to relive this. I had spent years trying to repress the memory and now Dria had dropped me right back into it.
I remembered this night vividly. My mother had taken sick after giving birth to my younger sister, who died when she was only a few weeks old. I was now watching the night of her death.
My mother looked up and spotted young me. She smiled a shaky smile and said quietly, “Oh, Rayne, did I wake you? Go back to bed, little one, everything is alright.” Young me, with her thumb in her mouth, ignored my mother’s suggestion and walked to her bedside. I quickly stepped aside as she passed by.
“Mama, what’s wrong with Leah?” young me asked, resting her chin on the edge of the bed. “Why isn’t she moving? She always moves.”
My mother looked up at my father, the pain clear in her expression. He answered for her. “She wasn’t healthy, Rayne. She wasn’t able to stay awake.” My mother closed her eyes, holding back tears. My father had always been brutally honest, even if it was hard to hear. I had inherited that trait from him.
“Can’t you just shake her like you do me when I have to get up? All gentle like?” Young me placed a small hand on Leah’s pale cheek. “Papa, why is she so cold?”
My father sighed. “Rayne, do you understand what death is?”
My little head nodded. When you lived in the slums, you were acquainted with death at a young age. “That’s why she won’t wake up?”
“Yes, child. She wasn’t strong enough. She was born sick and too small.”
“Oh.”
My mother opened her eyes and took a deep breath before looking down at young me. “Are you alright, Rayne? I know it’s a sad thing, but it’s all a part of life; especially for people who live like us.” She looked back up at my father. “We had hoped for too much, when we decided to have another child. We were so blessed when Rayne was born without illness that we thought it would happen again. I suppose this is the gods’ way of punishing us for wanting more than what’s meant for us.”
My father stroked her cheek with a gentle hand. “Don’t say such things, love. No god would use the death of a child as punishment. Kayeth took her to be merciful; she was in no condition to stay in our world.”
My mother snorted in reply which tossed her into another round of chest ripping coughs. When she was able to speak again, she said hoarsely, “If the god of death was merciful, he should have taken me instead of Leah...or with her.”
My father turned away from his wife so she couldn’t see his face, but from where I stood I could see that her words had struck him hard.
Young me sighed, completely oblivious to the conversation my parents were having. “I just wish she hadn’t died. She was fun, when she wasn’t sick.”
My mother smiled sadly down at me. “I know sweetling. We’re all going to miss her.” She was about to say more, but she broke into another fit of coughs that shook her so badly she almost fell to the floor. My sister’s body tumbled from her arms and landed on the bed between my mother and young me. My father placed his hands on both of her shoulders to keep her as steady as he could.
Young me rested a hand on my mother’s leg, and one on Leah’s body. I knew what was going to happen next and tried to turn away, but my body was locked in place. I fought the invisible hands that gripped my body, but it was no use. I was forced to watch as my mother gasped and stared down at young me in horror. She turned a ghostly grey colour, matching Leah’s. Her skin pulled tight against her bones, like she was rapidly losing weight. The veins in her face and arms became visible as they were squeezed between her skin and bones, almost to the point of bursting. With one last guttural cry she collapsed, her eyes wide and blank.
I heard what I was waiting for next; the cry of my little sister. I wanted to say something. I wanted to stop my three year old self from doing what had already happened. I wished desperately that I could take that night back. When I opened my mouth to speak, I was suddenly sitting in Dria’s booth once again. She was watching my face intently.
“That is but the beginning of your abilities,” she said quietly. “There is more to it than just the transfer of life, however. The rest I will leave for you to discover on your own. But I will tell you this; there are three more for you to remember, and all can be found by looking in your past and your family’s history.”
A look of sympathy crossed her face. Slowly, she moved her hand from my shoulder and to my cheek. She ran her fingers gently just below my eye. I realized that she was wiping away tears. I had no idea when I had started crying. I jerked away from her touch and wiped at the wetness roughly with my sleeve.
“I know that was a terrible loss, and what followed was even worse—” I cringed away from her words. The memory of my father was still painful sixteen years later. “—but you must learn from these memories. It will be a painful road, but many things in your future depend on them. Do not be afraid to receive help from those around you. Your problems with trust will only hinder you on your path. Learn to trust and to love.”
I guffawed, still wiping the wet patches from my cheeks. “Love only leads to heartache.”
Dria shook her head. “What happened to your parents was indeed tragic. But, if you were able to ask your father, I am sure that he would not give up the time he had with your mother for anything, even though it meant his eventual death.
And when I speak of love, I do not only mean the intimacy between lovers. I refer to the love between friends.”
I shook my head and mumbled, “I can take care of myself.”
“You will need the support of others to complete the tasks ahead of you,” Dria pressed. “You are a strong girl, Rayne, no one can deny that. But believe me when I say that you are not strong enough to face your future alone. I can see many outcomes, but the ones when you are on your own do not end well. Learn to love, child, in all ways. You will need the strength that it can give to you.”
I shivered and looked away from Dria’s piercing eyes. The thought of having to depend on other people made me break into a cold sweat. Needing someone else and not being able to accomplish things on my own was something that I dreaded.
Suddenly, Dria was crouched by my side. I jumped and looked at the chair where she had been sitting. She smiled that kind smile of hers. “I have a few extra talents of my own, child.” She took my hands in hers and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes, surprised by her sudden show of affection. What was more surprising was how much it comforted me. “I must go now, before the others realize I’m here. I’ve risked much to show you what I did, but I felt that you needed help, or you would have never realized your potential in time. Good luck, Rayne. Once you find your second ability, I will come to you again.” She vanished then, but I could still hear her voice and feel her presence. “Follow your instincts, child. They will lead you in the right direction. And don’t forget about love. You will need it.” With her last words, all trace of her vanished.
I opened my eyes and watched in shock as the shelter around me started to fade; first the candle and the charms hanging from the ceiling, then the table. The entire stall and its contents quickly disappeared. With a hard thud I was sitting in the muddy street, the stool having disappeared from underneath me. I gasped as the frigid rain and wind tore through me. Thanks for that, I thought sarcastically. I doubted she could hear my thoughts, but just in case, I wanted her to know my disdain. I struggled to my feet and took off running down the nearest alley desperate to find shelter from the wind.
