Haze of Dusk (A trilogy) Page 5

  “Thought I lost you there,” his voice is deep, utterly nice to listen to. But it’s his smile that’s petrifying—straight and white making a dot on each of his cheeks.

  “What’s your name?” He asks nicely. I clear my throat before answering, but the words don’t want to come out. I shove my schedule in front of my face, so he can read my name. Looking at him pesters me. “Jor…say…” he reads carefully.

  “Good to meet you, I’m Corr,” the door opens interrupting us. I sigh in relief. Saved by company, a bit more and my hands would’ve tried to steal a touch of his. Four men enter the room. Three of them very loud, laughing with one another. “Ah, the crew is here, great. Lads, come meet the new kid.” Corr says. An overexcited kid—youngest of the group runs to me.

  “Splendid, we haven’t had a new kid since Jorge died,” the dark tan kid with green fox-shape eyes blurts out, hastening my nerves. Corr nervously laughs.

  “Another one, why are they sending us children? How long will this one last? A few hours, a few days. I’m sick of burying children,” a tall man with long dark hair and small epicanthic fold eyes says sitting on one of the center beds. My heart skips a beat. Buried children, is it that bad? “That’s enough. You’re going to scare him before the war.” Corr defends. His eyes meeting mine. His steady stare stings my skin, reddening my cheeks.

  “Everyone, this here is Jorsay. He has now become a part of our family. Therefore, we will care for him. Jorsay…this here is Ikumus…” he points at the pale rude-loner whom sits on his bed cleaning the twine of his bow with a towel. His dark hair touches his chest. I can tell he is from the elf race—a sovy, as he has long ears. Ikumus views my way in a glare that intimidates me.

  “I’m Ramuso!” the beautiful fox eye, overexcited boy yells. He takes my ear and pulls it hastily soaring it. I grunt in pain, jerking away from his aggressive hands.

  “Splendid. You’re not half, me too!!!” he pulls his ear, stretching the poor thing. I grimace. “Half?” I question in a murmur.

  “Most people here are half humans and half sovy. Ramuso is impolite by always mentioning it.” A spiked dark hair, tan skin man says. I frown, my mouth drops opens for a moment. I’m baffle by his small dark eyes. Is he wearing female eye coloring? I narrow my eyes, examining him better. Oh Yes, he is.... what an odd fellow.

  “My name is Onnet. The ears are not by elf's ancestry but by werewolves, so don’t confuse it kid,” he speaks mysteriously and rather dark, freaking me out. His ears aren’t big but have a small point. “And I’m Osys,” a small person shouts behind Onnet, hopping up and down, seeking my attention. He’s almost four feet tall. I’m gigantic compare to him. He has long puffy white hair, but has bald spots on the edges of his forehead, where a squat of horns burst out. He has a long nose, and elf-like ears that fall downward. I wouldn’t be able to identify his race even if I attempt to. “Since we're talking about origins, I’m half sovy, yeti, satyr and my mother is a yolk…it’s why I’m short,” he laughs with a snort. I giggle at his amusing behavior. At least, I won’t be curious about his race anymore.

  “Hey, what’s your half? Since you have no ears.” Ramuso asks me. I shrug.

  “Half human half wizard…” I plainly say. All eyes suddenly fall on me.

  “What…?” I’m uncomfortable by their stares.

  “A half human, half wizard cannot be a sorcerer. Everyone knows that.” Onnet confirms walking to a bed with an axe clung to the wall. I press my lips together. How dumb can you be Judyala, everyone knows the reason why wizards started to become sorcerers decades ago was because the elves and humans blended their race. What now…wait, but I’m a sorcerer…could it be my mother was a sovy. Papa never spoke about my Mother’s race. He said she was beautiful and loved to sing but… other than that he said no more. “I guess… I don’t know…” I say in a nervous laughter. I wonder why I never questioned my father. Perhaps, I didn’t have enough time, or maybe… I’m just too in loved with the perfect picture I have in my mind of my mother—a human healer with long ginger hair. I envision her faultless, and when she walks down the halls, she’s admired and loved by the world. Suddenly, I have the urge to see Srogeri, to release my concerns.

  “You’re probably like me. Both my parents were mingled. Mother was half sovy and half wizard, and so was my father, thus I got their gifts. That's why I’m a sorcerer. In the end, the sovys are the only benevolent race that can use magic without the utilization of a staff. And when you combine the power of a wizard with a sovy, you create an outstanding sorcerer, ME!” Ramuso yells, everyone laughs except for me. Why is this kid so hyper? He leans forward, overlooking the laughter. I heave away from the insane boy. I’m afraid he’s going to pull my ear again. “Don’t let Onnet fool you. Everyone knows werewolves don’t have powers…those ears are from his sovy side,” he whispers near my ear.

  “I heard that!!” Onnet growls startling both of us. I wiggle to his shout. “You want to see the teeth little devil,” Onnet gnashes his teeth showing his fangs.

  “You don’t scare me knit lover,” Ramuso bellows. The instant the word knit is mentioned, Onnet chases him, making the poor boy run for his life. I stare dim-witted by the scandal. And these men are my new family? They are mad…I’m going to lose my sanity with them.

  Ikumus puts down his bow, and stroll towards me until our heads almost bump. He has a natural angry visage that makes me question his endurance. “Listen up kid, that there is your bed. Don’t you dare to touch my belongings, my bed or anything that belongs to me, you understand?” He points at the bed farthest from him. I rush a nod. He’s certainly the driest from the group. Besides, he scares the hell out of me.

  “Take it easy Ikumus.” Corr defends. His eyes set on me.

  “Don’t listen to him, sometimes he can be demanding, but you’ll get used to it. Why don’t I show you around? So you can feel comfortable in your new home.” My heart flips as his warm hand touches my shoulder. I wisp a wheeze, forgetting how to breathe. This fellow has fired up my outlook of life. Corr jerks the hair that falls on his face, exposing his ears. He too has a small unnoticeable point. This means he’s also half elf and half human.

  He walks me to one of the two doorways passages. We enter a room with seven numbered doors. Six of the doors are personal closets. The seventh door; a colorless door is the washroom— a bulky rounded polished white room with six holes on the sparkling ceiling. My arrival is identified as the sixth, for I’m the last one to arrive. Since Corr has four years in the war castle, he is first. He’s the only kcowl member to have lived this long. Because of his survival skills, Corr has become the leader of the kcowls; it’s the name given to all male sorcerers and magicians. He’s like a guard, assuring rules are not broken. He’s also responsible for the everyday kcowls counting, keeping the numbers always the same—in case anybody runs away. Second is Ikumus. As rude as he is, he has three years in the war castle. The remaining three boys have exactly two years, surviving many wars together. Since Osys came first, he is the third, Onnet the fourth, and Ramuso the fifth.

  “Do we…all shower together?” I gulp.

  “Well, Osys is a hog and likes showering once every three days.” I giggle at his confession. “Onnet likes to shower in the morning and before dinner. Ramuso…I’ve never seen him shower, but I think he does it,” he thinks hard.

  “Me, I shower every day-after physical training. I guess it depends, not that it matters. The water is always warm no matter how many people shower,” he jokes. I meekly giggle. I rub my neck, wishing to twirl the hair that’s not there. It’s going to take some time to get used to Jorsay's body. But what am I supposed to do about my girly feelings? I never thought about that since I didn't know that exist. We head back to the bedroom to cross to the other passage.

  “Jorsay, you got package and mail!” Ramuso shouts the moment I step foot inside. He’s on his bed playing a strange game with blocks and his toes. The luggage I left in the carriage has magically arrived, with
it a letter. I take the letter,

  “newcomers intro assembly,” I read aloud.

  “Ah yes, the recruit assembly. The headmistress basically clarifies the rules…for three hourglasses…how fun…glad I’m not a newbie.” Onnet says as he knits a pink scarf. I scowl, and overlook his strange knitting. On my night table there’s an hourglass that was not there before. “And this…” I ask perplex.

  “When the great ones send an invitation, an hour before the occasion, the leaders will send an hourglass to alert you of the time. If by the time the sand is down you're not in the location, you'll get …”

  “Wail’s punishment!!!” Osys, Ramuso and Onnet yell in union. Hourglasses to specify time, we go by the bells back in Duolic. Then again, we are a small town.

  “What’s wails punishment?” I ask in a frown.

  “Why tell him. He’ll be gone in a few months.” Ikumus says. I try to neglect his conjecture, although Corr is not taking it well, and threatens him. Ikumus scoffs, unafraid by any of us. “It’s all right. I don’t think I’m going anywhere.” I guarantee Corr, impressing them all. Way to go Judyala, with your grand powers, you will indeed survive. “Nice attitude boy. The wail's punishment is when instead of three hours of lecturing they give you twelve. Imagine, twelve hours of one’s life wasted because a person is late to a dumb meeting that talks about rules. Garrr, that just reminds me how much I hate this place.” Onnet hisses.

  I set the invitation on top of my case. “Come, let me introduce you around before you leave.” Corr says. I smile at him. I love his attitude, his exquisiteness. We enter the room to the right, a circular room, but much larger than the closet room. A room he calls the entertaining lounge. The area is surrounded by scarlet sofas. In the center of the room is a painting of an elf woman and a wizard who seem to be romantically involved. He waves a hand in the air. The characters from the picture come out. I can tell is an illusion because of the flimsiness. The man is on his knee, as if proposing to the female elf.

  “Anything you wish, you can watch. Think of a story and the energy in this room creates it. In this room, insignificant magic can be utilized. However, know this, only in the entertainment room, for anywhere else in this castle it’s a violation.” I nod, overtaken by his serious tone. “How come the art in the castle also moves?” I inquire, remembering the pictures in the order room and the way the walls loop.

  “The art moving signifies the rules. It’s a reminder, it is telling us we are not allowed to disrupt or change what the great leaders have created. If attempted to, the changes reflect the greater source, alerting them; then we get in trouble. So remember, do not use your powers around here to change anything. Not even the trousers you’re wearing. It’s against the rules, and here…we follow the rules.” He seriously speaks, gazing at the illusion-couple dance.

  “But, the hall distortion, can’t they make that less annoying?” I say thinking how sick I felt when walking the hallway.

  He chuckles.

  “You’ll get used to it. That was created to stop powerful sorcerers from using transformation spells. Long ago they would change their forms to take the ones they love’s identity. Moreover, it stops evil beings from entering. It binds their magic, showing their true form.” His words make my head spin. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. My knees wobble. I want to jolt down, but I hide my nerves—holy crap. I’m going to be caught. The power of the hallway is going to disrupt my magic presenting my true form. What can I do now? Discovery means death to me, and my beloveds.

  - 5 -

  Distortion

  Sandrine Srovio is her name, the most respected woman in all Doomsvell and the only child of Lord Zorganther Srovio, of the Srovio family, the founders and originator of the war castle centuries ago. They are the ones that created the rules, and began collecting warriors to fight for our lands. They are the ones we should thank, supposedly for our lives… not to mention the cynical war.

  As a leader, and the headmistress of Doomsvell, she is the one to welcome the newcomers. Hundreds of recruits sit in a spherical room inside the castle, with thousands of benches escalating to the lofty top. She stands in the round platform on the center of the room, babbling her lectures, telling us what we can and can’t do— her voice swiftly brings me exhaustion. Never in my life have I ever been to a place filled with so many restrictions. Why so much control? It seems like dictatorship to me.

  Although her babbling makes me want to jump out a cliff, I can’t help but notice the woman is astonishingly beautiful, probably the most beautiful human I’ve seen in my life. Her hair is a strawberry blonde color. Half of her hair is in a bun; the rest of her hair touches her hips. With our distance, I figure she’s probably my height, five with seven. She’s thin and dresses in an elegant wide-neck golden robe with slits on the sides, the robe that represents her power as a leader. She’s a woman in her late thirties, but seems to look healthier and more appealing than a woman in her twenties.

  “Survival is the key!” is her phrase. She speaks directly. The magic in the platform makes her voice loud. I wake up from my snooze, and still she speaks about the rules. This time a small book appears in each recruit’s lap. Inside the book are hundreds of rules scripted. She demands us to read it in order to prevent breakage.

  “Alright already, I get it, no magic permitted in the castle unless requested by an instructor …now give me a break and shut your damn mouth.” I murmur closing the book, when suddenly a pale man dressed in a black robe walks towards me startling me. Did he hear me? Oh crap, now I’m going to get it. “Jorsay Zayras of Duolic, you are sought after. Please follow me,” the man says. My heart begins to thrust hard on my chest. The other kids whom sit near me stare— fearing for my life. I gulp and follow the man. Shoot an arrow, this castle is slavery.

  “Listen, what I said I—”

  “Silence, do you not see the great madam speaks,” he hisses. I sneer, what’s his problem? Great madam, more like madam parrot. The boy leads me down a hallway, with many doors. We go through four magical doors that take us to an unfamiliar area of the castle. Ultimately, we arrive to our location. “Go in this door, you are expected.” I wheeze a sigh, and open the door. I’m anticipating the worst, until I see who sits behind an oak cherry desk, reading a large book. I put a hand on my chest and breathe out in relief.

  “You evil man! You scared the hell out of me. Nice headquarters.” I look all ways, the room base wall is painted brown and its top is golden. The golden top has many written scriptures on the wall, hard to identify. There are three small arched opening that lead to a heavy thick book. I bet it’s a book fill with the names of the future recruits. “There must be like a million words on that wall.”

  “Eight hundred thousand, five hundred seventy-two words, twenty thousand numbers, one hundred thousand symbols, and two hundred thousand spells.” Srogeri says. He does not bother to welcome me. He watches the large book with his magnifier. I grimace. And he keeps count. He must be really bored. “Thanks for taking me out of that hell. I was dying slowly. That woman talks more than…than Morgan…” I have nothing better to compare her to. In the end, Morgan is the winner, as her running mouth made Papa jump faster to the war. I love Morgan. I really do. However, when that woman’s mouth opens, she turns into someone so malicious she drags people away—recalling the times I slept on the streets because of her nagging…countless.

  “I didn’t bring you here for that. There is something I need to speak to you about.” He stands; by his severe expression I can tell it is serious. I gasp. I remember my concerns. He picks up his staff and points at the wall. The words begin moving around in a circle. “I have something to say too…what are you doing?” I gaze around.

  “Making sure the walls don’t hear,” he set his staff on a corner, the flow of the words cause a distraction. “Judyala, I wasn’t aware of this but…the hallways here have a magic disrupter. I'm shock you're still in Jorsay’s body.” I groan. It’s like he reads minds. “Yes, that�
�s what I wanted to tell you. Actually, I’m feeling quite sick, especially when I walk the main hallway. I think it is effective.” I undertone. He sighs stressfully. I can see he’s anxious as he places a hand on his head. “I knew this was a bad idea. I’m going to try to pull you out of here before something dreadful happens.”

  “No!” I snap startling him. “I don’t want to go back. I’m going to do this. This is no longer about Jorsay. It’s about providing. I want to share my powers too,” go back home, and do what? Be Morgan’s slave, and watch how she complains about the world. Walk among a path that has nothing to offer me. I’m not willing to give my freedom away…well…it is almost freedom, freedom from Duolic. This is what I’ve waited for so long.

  “It will eventually prevail. Do you not comprehend? You will change into yourself, and everyone will know. Then off with our heads,” he intends to scare me, but that isn’t going to work. I’m not a little girl anymore. “I can fight it. I know I can. You said it yourself. I have sustained it all this time, right… I can do it.” He opens his mouth to quarrel some more, but he suddenly halts. The words on the wall are rotating in a slower motion.

  He stares at the door. A light knock completely draws my attention—he stands at rest, already expecting. “Come in, Ronneto.” He guesses. I scoff. He truly is a remarkable man. Srogeri never stops impressing me. Ronneto enters the room, behind him is a familiar woman. I breathe out. The beautiful woman’s entry takes me aback.

  “Vaniele.” I whisper. She smiles beautifully. She looks flawless as usual.