Destiny of Darkness - Chapter 1

AN: I started writing this when I was 14 so I realize that there may be several grammatical mistakes or tense changes. Still, this is the longest thing I have written and I still like the concept behind it, therefore I'm posting it. Hope you all enjoy it, I'm open to suggestions and criticism, but it may be awhile until I change anything.



<><><><>CHAPTER ONE<><><><>


Of the world of Chhor, many stories are told, some with words, and some without. Various ballads tell of things to come and still others tell of things long past. Even though some may not be true, all contain faith... and hope. What more can anyone ask in this life, than hope?

My name is Kokoro Futeki. It means "fearless heart" in one tongue. My heart is not worthy of the distinction. At times my heart has felt the bitter tang of fear. Have not all men or women placed on this earth? I wasn't the one to name myself. Even so, I try to live up to my name, until the day I prove myself unworthy of it. I pray that day will never come. The story I'm about to relate to you started on the dawn of my sixteenth naming day.

The people always considered me different in my village; I was always daydreaming of the palaces across the hills and what the life must be like there. I was not like the others, content to accept my lot and look to God for riches after death. My father supported this, though the Elders of our village looked down upon him for it. I wanted to see the world, bask in the sands of the deserts, and swim in the fabled seas. I only knew what I did of the world outside the village from the passing peddlers and minstrels who would woo me with their tales of the places far from where I lived, and my father, who at night by the fireplace would spin tales of dragons and knights, mermaids and enchantresses who fought for both good and for evil.

My father, seeing my interest in the arts, started to train me when I was very young, both armed, and unarmed combat styles. By the time I was eight, I could take down a grown man… if I had the element of surprise, of course. I was pretty strong because of this training, something my father told me I had to hide. I didn’t understand why until I had met the children in the village for the first time, and saw the way that their parents acted towards the girls. The girls refused to play with me because of my odd ways, and so I found solace in the arms of my father on many an occasion. My mother also relented as I neared my coming of age, letting me find my own way in life instead of preparing me for a husband.

Sometimes I would barter for tales the travelers would tell me, more often than not any that I could find. I had a small herb garden my mother insisted I keep, and between that and my father’s training, I found myself entertained day after day. Sometimes I would think that he considered me to be his lost son, as his gaze lay upon me oddly, but always I would shrug it off and before long paid it little heed.

I awoke on my sixteenth Name Day to streams of sunlight pouring from small fractures in the ceiling. The musty smell of the loft wafted over my nostrils and I sneezed as a straw landed below my nose. I turned over and tried to go back to sleep, rubbing my nose unconsciously. The smell of bacon simmering on the fireplace downstairs drifted up to me and reminded me of what day it was; normally we did not eat with such extravagance. I immediately shot up and hit my head on the low, slanted ceiling. Alternating between wincing and laughing with glee, I leapt down to the hard-packed earthen floor and walked with a bounce to my step to the table on one side of the room. Although it was old and none too solid, I considered it to be as much a part of home as my mother or father; it had been there as long.

"Kokoro... What am I always telling you about jumping down from there? You might kill someone one of these days." Her low alto voice vibrated warmly as she pulled the tray of bacon from the griddle over the fireplace.

"You have no need to fear, Mother, I always watch where I land." I said in a jocular mood, setting the clay dishes I had made for my mother on the table. She had complained quite a bit when I had presented them to her several years before, all dusty and my good clothes soiled. We made good use of them nonetheless.

"Ah, but who says I'm fearing for you? Be a dear, run get some eggs from the chickens? I'll be finishing with the bread shortly. This be market day as well, collect what ye be wishing to bring with you. Hurry now!" She smiled at me as she ladled the side of pork onto one of the larger dishes. My mother would be considered very handsome in anyone’s eyes. Her straight hair was most often than not held back in a tight bun, and while others her age had more than their fair share of gray, my mother’s head remained as black as it had when she was younger. Her sharp features were softened by age, and her warm, brown eyes would make anyone feel welcome in her presence. Her figure was moderately plump, and her manner mothering. Yes, many would agree that my mother was beautiful.

I ran out of our small cottage and into the sun. It was bright out, maybe two candle marks past dawn. We lived outside the village, but just barely. My mother was the town midwife; we had to remain close for emergencies. This being a small village in the countryside, we had our share of livestock; a young heifer that would soon bear her first calf, several pigs, and more than twenty chickens.

The pigs were contained in a small sty than leaned against one of the two stonewalls of the cottage. In a continuation of the sty, a good-sized lean-to was built onto the other wall. The heifer was housed there. The chickens, however, made nests everywhere on the lawn, in bushes, and the hay bales I managed to put together over the summer.

Since my father had left us several years ago, the burden of the livestock fell upon me even though I was a daughter, not a son, for I was an only child. My mother had refused to marry again against the wishes of the Priest, and repeatedly told me ‘I was better than any man around the house’. I did manage the house as well as I could, keeping accounts on the things my mother couldn't. My father had also taught me how to read, write, and cipher, which came in handy when someone tried to cheat us when we were trading.

An unfortunate thing to befall me was that I was gained much more muscle from the labor I did day to day than I ever had when I had been training actively with my father. This wasn't considered to be proper, as a lady should always remain slim and delicate. Or so the Elder said. I always thought it a bit weird, as I saw nothing wrong with being able to trounce the little smirking buffoons who strutted around the town in their arrogance… not that I did anything of the sort, or course. I suppose it also wasn't proper that I had taken to wearing tunics and breeches instead of dresses, as my father had insisted that I wear when we would fight, but that shall just remain unsaid. If the village Elder found me wearing men’s clothing, I'd be performing penance in the square for weeks!

Enough on that thought. The day found me wearing my customary brown leather breeches and one of my father's old worn tunics. My bare feet dug into the dust as the breeze caught my long dark hair, gently playing with it as the sun added it’s golden highlights to the brown mass. With a contented sigh, I leapt down the well-worn path to the lean to. That was where I always started my search.

I paused as I saw my prey sitting contentedly in the corner of a bale of hay. Pulling my hair back in a knot, I fastened it with a leather cord. I leapt to the roof of the lean-to and crouched low, looking over the edge; the structure was almost as tall as the house, a good four and a half spans. I slithered into the support beams and stopped when I was over the chicken. With my feet gripping the beam, I lowered myself slowly, slipping a hand under the chicken. With a jerk, I pulled out a feather, causing the poor thing to squawk indignantly and flutter from it's nesting place. With a laugh I let myself fall, curling briefly into a ball before landing on my feet.

This nest had three eggs! That old hen must have been busy. I gathered the eggs to myself with a handful of straw to cushion them and with an apology to the chicken I was running back into the house.

"Kokoro... now what have you been doing this time? Surely not terrorizing the chickens again..." my mother's voice rang from where she was bent over the stove, chastising me with the use of my full name.

A sheepish grin stole over my face as I handed the eggs to my mother. "How did you guess?"

"After living with you for nearly sixteen summers?" She snorted. "You are more like a young imp than the girl you are."

I grinned. "Well, there is that. You should remember who does most of the chores around here too. Need any help?"

"Grab the bread, will you?"

"Sure." Out of the blue, I remembered one market day long in the past… I had asked one of the then ever so tall peddlers how the nobles acted and spoke, being taken as I was with the thought at the time. In my amusement, I tried to speak similarly if oddly because of my lisp, but I continued playing with the words day after day till it tried my mother's patience and she corrected me herself. Before too long I had a firm grasp over the pronunciation, much to the delight of my parents. I sighed slightly. I missed my father.

I retrieved an old cloth and snatched the tray with the bread from the nook over the fireplace and set the hot board on the table, making a loud 'thunk.' By the time I had sat down, my mother had finished cooking the eggs and had brought them to the table as well.

"Well then, let’s finish eating then, shall we?" She smiled. I grinned and dug into the food placed on my plate.

"Remember now, to change into your dress, the good one mind you. The Elder-"

"I know Mother. I'll change as soon as I'm done."

"And none of your behavior around them either, remember what happened last market day..."

"How could I forget." I groaned through a mouthful of food. I had let the heifer loose by accident right after we had purchased her, forgetting as I looked on the goods of a new peddler. She had torn through the square, and had managed to find a mate before I caught up to her. It caused quite the ruckus, and my mother still chided me on it. How many months ago had it been?

I quickly finished, and leapt from the table vibrating with pent energy. My mother shook her head rolling her golden brown eyes skyward as if pleading to San in supplication. I chuckled at the display and she grinned back at me, lightening the mood further.

"Get on with you. I'll get the dishes, you just be ready to go." She shook her head and gestured me to get ready. I climbed the ladder with glee, crouching low to avoid hitting my head again. I made my way to the other end of the loft where I had the chest I stored my things in. I took out the only dress I owned and shook the dust from it. It wasn't that pretty, just a simple blue thing that hung on you and a white bonnet. I'm glad I had tried the sandalwood sacks that Marie had suggested; they seemed to have kept away the moths.

I shrugged into the dress, and tied the bonnet on. The dress was even shorter on me than before, only reaching to my knees. The bonnet was equally tight and I had to loosen the ties several times before I felt comfortable. Crawling to my pallet, I reached under the straw and retrieved my amulet. It was a clear blue stone; it's shape similar to an egg, small enough to fit into my hand. It shown with an inner luminescence, similar to the waves water would make on a sunny day, and a simple leather cord threaded through a hole cut into it's top accented its beauty. I only wore it for special occasions; it was too valuable to wear all the time. I treasured it more than any other possession I owned, for my father had given it to me on my fifth naming day.

I tucked it under the top of the dress now that I was clothed; the only thing left to do was pack the things I was going to take to market. If I was lucky, a new peddler or maybe even a merchant would be there and I could listen to some new stories. With a grin I leapt from the edge of my loft once again and alighted on the floor softer than a cat. I had seen one once; it had been gorgeous. It hadn't made a sound as it walked, graceful and aloof. I wanted one, but they were hard to come by. It would have helped to keep the mice down, but I think I was taking care of that problem nicely. A glance showed that my mother wasn't in the building anymore, and I started outside myself.

I crept slowly through the door, looking warily around for her. A grin was plastered on my face as I saw her plump form bent over a large burlap sack. On tiptoe, I snuck up behind her and poised ready tap her on the shoulder.

"Kokoro Futeki."

I froze. She turned around and placed a hand on one of her hips, eyebrow raised.

"Yes?" I blinked, trying to look innocent. Hard to do from the incriminating position I was in.

She sighed, leaning forward into my startled face and tapped my nose, causing me to sneeze and fall back on my buttocks. "I know what you be planning. Now be a dear and lift this sack for an old woman. And as I said, none of that in town."

"Yes, Mother." I pushed myself gingerly to my feet and dusted off my dress. This was going to be a long day. I hefted the sack to my shoulders and followed my mother down the road to where our cart lay under the shade of a tree. It was already packed with the dried herbs and tonics my mother made, and what I carried was probably the fresh chamomile roots we had picked the other day. With a thump, I let the bag down in the back.

"Have you your goods?" My mother asked from several feet away.

"I was going to fetch them now."

"Hurry then, we must be on our way before the sun rises too high."

I bounded back to the lean-to where I had left the herbs I had bundled together yesterday. There were several that could be used for seasonings, another few spices, and others to make tea and tonics. I wasn't allowed to grow any of the other, stronger, herbs; my mother still thought me too young. I deposited the small cloth bundles into a sack like the one my mother used, and threw it over my shoulder. My mother was waiting for me when I returned to the wagon. The wheels creaked as my mother started pulling it along while I walked beside her. I pushed my hair from my eyes as the sun started to beat down on us. The grass covering the expanses of meadow was green and lush; a verdant carpet that spread to the edge of the tall trees.

Glancing at my mother’s worn feet, covered in the dusty leather of her boots, I wondered if my own feet would one day be like hers. Was it a thing that came with age? We crept slowly along the dusty dirt road, the tall trees growing sparsely along the road giving but slight shade from the steady rising sun.