Decieving Eyes,

Chapter 2

I woke up, sweating profusely and panting heavily. It was the same dream; it was always the same dream, torturing me continuously night after night. Although I loved to blame it on that bloody school of mine, it wasn’t their fault; it had never been their fault. But it made me feel better to blame them, after all they had excluded me again, and it was all because, unlike everyone else, I believed, believed in things like magic, vampires and werewolves, things that even the government denied the existence of, in my mind they denied it all too much. But it was for this reason that I had been excluded, and yet there was no way I couldn’t believe, though I wished I never did because it hurt to have these thoughts, but still I couldn’t forget that dream, that had never been just a dream, it was a memory, a memory so terrifying and scaring that even now, nine years later, I still remember as if I was standing in that very forest right now. That memory that haunted and taunted me trying to lead me like a horse into the darkness and loneliness of insanity. It was a memory of my encounter with a creature so fearsome and horrible that man, terrified, had denied its existence in the hopes that if no one believed it would just disappear, a creature that could turn the sanest man insane, the Vampire.

But this meant that since that school trip I had never been able to swallow those shallow and spoon-fed lies given to us by the government, and so I had been tortured and troubled to the extremes by those around me. To be honest the lie of my ‘accident’ was pretty unbelievable. A cut in the shape of two fangs joined by a row of sharp front teeth in a crescent shape being caused by a fall? Impossible. They had told my father that I had fell after losing my way, and my mind being unstable from fear and cold, hallucinated the whole story of being attacked by an immortal, beautiful, blood-sucking woman. But the question had always been where did I get the delicate looking but tough handkerchief from? My father had never seen it in his life. Of course the government realised this afterwards and had claimed that the handkerchief was un-washable and had burnt it on the spot saying that it was useless. Still my father had swallowed the whole story and continuously told me off for mentioning anything to do with vampires, an expression of unbidden fear shrouded on his face.

But still because of this experience I had been left emotionally scarred and insecure. For this it meant that I was never expelled though I had been excluded many times for my terror-spreading lies and my many fights with fellow students and fierce arguments with my teachers. The basis of the fights was the students wishing to ‘beat some sense into the crazy bitch’ and the arguments where my teachers trying to convince me to ‘stop repeating childish lies and grow up in time for the final exams, after all they need full concentration and effort.’ In total I had been excluded twenty times, a result of twenty extra weeks holiday from school. But still every night I went to sleep I was haunted by that same dream and face, the stunningly beautiful but scary face, with those glowing, sorrowful violet eyes, the eyes of a demon.

I looked at the curtains from my upright position and sighed heavily before falling back against the headrest with a thump, it was morning, the light was seeping through my closed curtains and it was time to get up. I climbed softly out of bed and padded across the room on the bleached oak boards to the window on the opposite side of the room to my bed. The moment I pulled back the curtains I saw the thick layer of snow on the ground. I cursed, as if going back to school wouldn’t be bad enough, but now I had to walk in the snow, after all my dad’s horses would never get through that. The thought of school made me shiver and feel nauseous; to say that I hated it would be an understatement, I detested the very essence of it, all those stuck-up, dumb kids believing whatever the rich people and the government told them, punishing those who didn’t share their views. I hated those teachers of mine too; picking on me, taunting me, ‘the vampire girl’ and making my blood boil until I am at my limit, by making me the common enemy of their students, so that I was tormented and tortured continuously. I was now at the top of their ‘hit list’ as they fondly called it. I sighed again crossing over to the right end of the room where some beech drawers stood proudly against the pale white wall. On the top of these drawers lay my school uniform; neatly folded by my dad last night, I wouldn’t have minded if they had been left in the snow all night, I couldn’t hate them anymore anyway.

I looked cynically at the simple, woven beige clothes, they were rough with age and use, the shirt was long sleeved and tied up by rough leather straps at the front, it had the schools herald emblazoned on the chest above the heart, so that you could never forget your allegiance. The insignia was snake curling around the sword starting from the left side and ending at the left, the school motto, glaring out at me ‘Your sword in your right hand, and your enemy in your left.’ I winced as I felt the snake’s eyes blazing into me, almost like a comrade’s stare before going into battle. After the top there was the thick trousers that ended half way up the shin, a little below where the fur covered and lined boots went up to. Sighing heavily I started down the stairs, wondering idly what state my fighting equipment would be in after a week of disuse.

I arrived at the foot of the stairs and reached for my bag, checking its contents. It was light, as usual, and loaded only with my essentials, like my bee’s wax for my bow and my wet-stone for my sword. Other then that there was my small amount of text books, basic maths and literacy along with the extensive notes of Gaeng’s history, the boys did tactics; that was an unchanging tradition. After a short breakfast I began my cold trek towards school.

My country was a violent nation, Gaeng the Bloodthirsty as it was called by the five neighbouring nations, its schools taught the military arts and the basics of counting and writing but its centre was always on building the next generation’s army. I had excelled in all lessons for all my years at school, after all, archery was a doddle, and I had eyes as sharp as an eagle and a strong arm, providing sufficient energy and aim to hit any target, moving or not. Horsemanship was also easy, you sat on a horse and balanced, and if you were nice to the horse it would follow your orders and behave, temper was the only thing other than balanced that you needed there. And last was swordsmanship, this was my best subject, my forte even. The strength of my slender arms was amazing and I felt invincible as I held my long, thin and metallically beautiful sword, also you needed a brain to be able to judge your opponents weaknesses and what their next move would be, that was fun, I beat everyone whether they were boy or a girl, I still won.

In fact if it wasn’t for my attitude towards mythical creatures I could be the teacher’s pet for all of my classes, but I believed and that had cost me dearly. But I could never not believe in those amazingly, beautifully and scary creatures that had haunted my dreams with those sorrowful violet eyes. But it wasn’t just because of this that I believed, I had other proof, but proof I would never utter from my lips in all my life… myself. My mother had been born of Elander, the neighbouring nation. Elander was a beautiful flat country resting on a point of land, three-quarters of it being surrounded by the crystal sea and its white-sand beaches, the last quarter, it’s only join to other land, was a boarder that was shared with the nations, Gaeng, and the bleak mountainous nation, Kazank.

Elander thrived, its beauty was stunning and I knew why. My mother had told me, when I was but five years of age, that her home nation was commonly known by the other nations as ‘The Land of the Elves’ and this was because over two-thirds of the population were elves, the minority were mixed, half human and half elf. My mother, herself, was an elf, stunningly beautiful and graceful, but my mother had explained that whilst Gaeng fought magic and myths, Elander accepted them, causing the nation to thrive. They let magic flow unchecked and controlled throughout the land, it flowed through the people and the forests, making the trees, themselves, come alive and sparkle and shine in the sun, singing joyfully. The magic meant that the people grew strong, evolving and growing into elves, basking in grace and magic, allowing their limbs to elongate, growing big and strong. Their features were also enhanced becoming beautiful and as the magic increased their years, they became wise and gentle; their eyes became that of eagles and grew bold, bright and perfect yet reflected their elongated years with the look of age. This meant that elves, as a race, stood tall and proud, almost aloof, they laughed as my feeble and arrogant nation pointlessly sent themselves to their death.

Yes the elves were peaceful but this did not mean they were merciful. In truth elves have a regulated but highly volatile nature, the males standing at about seven foot tall each; the females were much smaller, at about five foot five. All having strength greater then that of a bear, and the wisdom of hundreds of years to guide them, they were not an enemy you would wisely or lightly make. But because of their elongated years and closeness to magic they were very linked with nature and wished no harm to any creature, though when angered it would seem as if the wrath of the very Gods were upon you.

All this had caused my nation to deny the very existence of elves in this beautiful and peaceful neighbour, but to also both hate and fear it. Though the existence of elves in that nation was very hard to cover up, after all, the King of that nation and his wife were elves, they were King Lanceas and his beautiful wife Queen Elanor.
But this only served to fuel Gaeng’s hatred further, though they would never dare attack such a powerful nation. My mother’s identity as an elf had to stay unknown to anyone but myself and my father, though he didn’t believe in any creatures other then elves and humans. My mother had lied about her heritage, though she could never deny that she was from Elander, after all she had the tell-tale jet black hair and sky blue eyes, a shocking contrast, but one trait that was found only in those from Elander or its descendents. Meaning that I, myself, had these obvious traits, only serving to make me stand out more.

My mother had said that while she had been born in Elander, she was human and had come to live in Gaeng shortly after gaining independence from her parents. This was not true she was not even half human, she was full elf and an old one at that, she had been independent for hundreds of years, maybe even a thousand, but she had lost count as most elves do at an great age though they showed no physical signs of aging until near their death, she had started showing these signs the year I was born, and when I was five and she had informed me of these secrets she already knew that she would die very shortly after passing this information on. In fact, that conversation was the last one I ever had with my mother; she had died the morning after.

The reason that black hair and blue eyes stood out in Gaeng was simply the fact that Gaeng did not tend to marry into other nations, being a nation that kept to itself meant that nearly every one had the same traits, the blonde hair and the brown eyes, some had brown hair but this was also a rarity, but I was the only person I knew with black hair and blue eyes. Though I had inherited these traits it was unknown, as of yet, if I possessed any other traits, condemning ones at that. A young elf does not know how to control and sub-due the inhuman powers it possesses; this level of control has to be trained into the young elf by its elders. If I had inherited these powers then I would be a danger to the people around me and would thus expose myself. But I would only find out at the age of eighteen, when my passage into adulthood would be made. If at this time I did indeed possess the powers I would have to leave immediately, leaving like the wind rushing through a nation, leaving no traces that I had ever existed and knowing that I could never return to my home and my father.

I was at the time sixteen years of age and in my fifth year of military school, every child from the age of twelve until the age of eighteen attended military school, unless they were politician’s sons, then they would attend a finishing school that focused on the sciences, mathematics and literacy, in order to become the next generation’s leaders. I would be seventeen in two months, I was nearing the end of my schooling and in a year and a half I would called up to fight, no choice would be given. But that would be ok, I liked fighting, it was like an age-old burning desire took over, dissolving my mercy, my humanity, making me into a burning animal, I hated that part, but I loved the power, the feeling of control that had been robbed from me, the feeling of freedom. In truth from the moment you are born in Gaeng your freedom is stolen, your destiny chosen by the old men sitting round a long, cold table. I knew this from a young age, though I had expected not to miss freedom, after all, how can you miss something you’ve never had?

I arrived at the school an hour after I had set off thoroughly sodden and freezing, I looked around me and all I could see was the cold, sharp looks of hatred darted my way, my school was rough, to be expected in a military school and it was common for there to be one person picked on by a whole year group, I had the misfortune to be that person for my year, probably because of my beliefs as well as my skills and my looks. I would have to shower quickly with my clothes in plain sight or locked up in a locker in the changing rooms, otherwise I would find them shredded or burnt again. But they never dared touch my training or fighting equipment, if someone touched them they would find themselves breathing their last, it had happened once already, someone had burnt my bow. When I found it I had felt like some manic creature had slipped out of a cage in my stomach and crawled up my throat until I was a monster even I couldn’t recognise, I had mercilessly hunted this guy down, I still don’t know how, and found him cowering in the boys bathrooms, everything had gone black then and I woke up lying in a pool of blood with the boy lying in front of me, dead as a stone.

They hadn’t killed me or even arrested me for my crime, they had realised what an asset I would be for their army and had kept me, though no person would ever touch my equipment or come near me again. That was fine with me, I liked peace and I loved my equipment, I had already decided at that age, just fourteen years old, that my life would be the battle-field.

I showered, having locked my clothes in my locker and got my training clothes out, and picked up my sword, it was beautiful, it had a plain hilt, though it had green and red thread wound around it for grip, the blade itself was three foot long, and hung from a strap over my right shoulder which joined at my left hip onto my belt, where the sword dangled, the blade was getting too light for me, it had been made for me five years ago and since then my skill and muscle had built up, though I loved the sword with its two blood-cannels, I had out-grown it and I would need a bigger and heavier sword soon. I looked lovingly down at my sword, pulled my wet-stone out of my bag and started to rub it smoothly against the blade, it made a pleasing shingling sound as the stone ran down the threatening blade, the sheath of the sword was, itself, pretty un-amazing, it was a plain leather sheath that fitted both the sword and the belt perfectly. After checking my blade I checked my training clothes, I checked that the beige leather padding undergarments were secure and covering the vital parts, they padded the torso, front and back, and the legs on the front, the arms left for free movement. On top of the padding I wore thick leather clothes and leather knee high boots.
I strode into the combat hall and smiled, my sword dangling on my sheath at my waist, it was held by a thick leather strap that went over my right shoulder and attached to my belt at my left side of my hip, it was here that it hung, a pleasant weight against my left thigh. The combat hall was large and round, the floor covered in sand, just in case, with large posts planted strategically in the floor to support the ornate glass dome above. The swords master stood in the middle of the hall, glaring fiercely around him, weighing up his students carefully, he grinned when he saw me a taunting little smile. The heavily built bald man just loved me.
“Well, well. Look who’s actually at school, our Vampire Princess has arrived. Shouldn’t we all be so honoured? Welcome my lady.” He shot this comment at me, the last sentence dripping with sarcasm and menace. The class snickered coldly at my humiliation, but I would not blush or feel ashamed, instead I clicked my tongue impatiently, after all I wasn’t in the mood for this today.
“But my dear gallant Sir, you should know better then anyone that I can’t be a Princess, after all, what Princess can wield a sword better then her sword master? My, that has to be humiliating, I mean, after all a little girl can beat a big boy like you.” I snickered at the shocked silence. All I could hear was the infuriated heavy breathing of the sword master. He charged with his two-handed broadsword drawn over his head ready to become thundering down on my head in a crushing blow. Quickly I unsheathed my sword and held it above my head length ways, deflecting the blow last minute. I sniggered as the sword master staggered back, ignoring the jarring pain in my hand from where my sword’s blade hand cut into my palm.
“Hmmm. You give way too much warning.”
The sword master grunted angrily and went in for another attack, this time at my feet. I lightly skipped aside this attempt and used the opening to rest my sword point against the beefy man’s base of his neck.
“Finished already… Sir?” It wasn’t really a question merely a statement. I knew that I would pay for this later on, but at least I had taught that man his place… below me. The class sat gobsmacked as the swords master reluctantly sheathed his sword and knelt before me, my sword still trained on his neck. He glared up at me and he bowed his head and I pulled the sword point away, sheathing my sword smugly.
















Chapter 3

As I had predicted the punishment did come, in buckets. My long black hair dripped feebly over my shoulder and down my arm, it was cold, causing shivers to run down my spine. All manners of pond life had been dropped out of buckets onto me from the windows, frogs, snakes, frogspawn, fish and eels, I hadn’t minded most of them, but I hated the frogspawn it was just so… gooey. I shivered as I yanked the slime out of my hair it made me squirm as I felt it sink under my nails, great now I had dead things under my nails and in my hair. School would be finished soon, meaning a long walk home but then I would be able to have a lovingly warm bath. I smiled at the thought only to be interrupted by the sound of cantering hooves and a brass trumpet. I looked round shocked wondering if it was one of the nobles, though they never visited a worthless school like this, unless to punish a child who had tried to desert both school and nation.

To my surprise it was a cavalry unit of stunningly beautiful people, riding bare back on magnificent horses, they were at least a hand taller than any horse I had ever seen and they seemed to need no visible commands, except for a gentle and silent whisper in the ear and a pat on the neck. The unit numbered about twelve people; they rode in twos and obviously in order of superiority, the most inferior soldiers following up at the back. The person at the front dismounted lifting his silvery helmet off his head, revealing pointed ears and pitch black hair. On the ground he was easy a head taller then the archery teacher, a man of six foot six, who just stood there, his mouth wide in indignation and shock. I couldn’t help giggling at the look on his face, accidently turning the giant’s attention from his horse, which he was busy petting, to me. His eyes widened at me and motioned to another rider, who quickly dismounted and ripped off his helmet. To my surprise his face was that of my mother’s; beautifully oval with cat’s eyes and a thin nose, the cheek bones hardly standing out. I felt my eyes widen as I stared at this male version of my mother, and felt the stares of the school on me.
“Excuse that girl, she is crazy, take no heed of her. She has already murdered and tries to spread lies about mythical creatures across the school, she shows the evidence of her punishment about her now.” My swords master spoke up glaring at me and my state, almost sneering.
The giant glared down at the swords master and spoke in a gratingly angelic voice.
“Excuse me but I know no lies of mythical creatures, according to your country I am a myth and yet I stand here in front of you. And I assure you, for that, I would not say that she deserves punishment or isolation. I ask that you allow us to bring the child, would that be ok, my lord?” he muttered, though his face never turned to look at the sword-master. The sword-master laughed darkly.
“Let you take away our most promising student half a year before she’s sent out to war? Not likely! Sorry but she stays at the school and then goes to battle, there is no choice in that.” He answered smugly forcing the giant to look at him in the eyes.
The giant looked sharply at the sword-master and spoke even more fiercely, all traces of the previous angelic tingle of his voice gone and replaced with a menacing edge. “I have no need to listen to you anymore. And your rules and laws do not apply to me anyway, I also know that you cannot attack me nor command me as you wish. I have my orders and I will carry them out, whatever the cost of them may be. That is my duty as a soldier to my King. Handred, bring the girl to me and request that she speaks her name and origin, she obviously does not belong to Gaeng.” He signalled the other man that was dismounted as he issued this order, Handred bowed and walked slowly and steadily towards me.
“Please may I know your name? You remind me a lot of my older sister Kalime.” He spoke gently reaching for my hand.
“My name is Kaline Leonisa, it originates from my mother’s name; my mother was called Kalime Graiten.” I replied taking his hand and standing up straight, staring full on into his face. He smiled grimly and bowed his head noticing my use of past tense for my mother. All around me I noticed the school glaring at me, muttering darkly, the teachers reaching for their weapons infuriated to have taught the daughter of an elf.
“You will not hurt the girl, she is under the protection of Elander and that is where she will remain.” The giant spoke in the same grating voice daring any man to attack me or him. “Handred, put the girl on your horse, we will leave immediately we now have no need to inquest about your sister now.” The giant spoke softly now but it was still commanding.
“Yes, Commander Reichi.” And with that Handred lifted me up, carrying me over to his horse where he placed me gently on its back. He quickly put on his helmet again and mounted behind me wrapping his arms round my waist so that I could not fall. The Commander also mounted and signalled the convoy to leave, bowing sarcastically at the school.

It was overly confusing as I was held tightly onto the back of the horse and we cantered away from the school. I felt the looks of the other elves on my back, disproving and confused, oblivious to the fact that I had noticed they continued their staring, assessing every aspect of me. But the wind was cold and relentless against my body, sheltered as it was by Handred’s arms and the horse’s thick, muscled neck.

I recognised the old dirt path as we cantered steadily down it; it was the way back to my house. I sighed happily as we gained sight of the old and worn down building. It was built of long wooden logs laid on their side and on top of each other, the windows were rough and square filled in with a thick plain of glass in each, the glass was too thick to be clear and it was unevenly formed, only rich houses and shrines to the many gods had clear and even glass, our windows had been expensive enough. The roof was covered in hay and mud a hole in the top in order to let the smoke from the fire through, it was a poor farmhouse and all the money went to food, second hand clothing and necessary objects for the farm like food for the animals and seeds. As we approached closer I saw the heavy wooden door hung open to the elements, my father stood tall and heavily built against it, waiting no doubt for his unexpected guests, he must have heard us approaching, the horses hooves had made a heavy sound against the frozen dirt of the track, the snow having melted earlier but the water now frozen as the temperature had dropped.
My father looked at me in surprise as he noticed me sitting calmly, but wetly in front of Handred on a giant horse. His eyes narrowed and he ran up to the horse reaching for me immediately, not bothering to welcomed the guests, in fact he ignored them to a point where it was obvious, as Handred took off his helmet and bowed at him.
After I had been lifted off the horse by my father and ushered inside, my father finally took notice of his regal guests, he welcomed them inside and let them seat themselves by the fire on any chair we could find, many sat on the floor and two stood outside looking after the horses, I sat on the floor next to the fire and tried to warm my self whilst quietly listening to the quiet natter of the elves surrounding me, my father came to stand next to me and looked down at me sadly, it was almost like he was trying to send me an unspoken message with his eyes, but I didn’t understand.
“I ‘spose ya came ‘ere lookin’ for Kalime, huh?” he muttered in his gruff rural accent. He waited for them to nod their head solemnly at him. “I ‘spose Kaline should listen to this two, it’s ‘bout time she knew the truth. Well anyway it was ‘bout a month and sixteen years since Kalime gave birth to Kaline, she was strong at tha’ point, and she couldn’t have been happier, never saw her smile like tha’ not once before, she smiled like that plenty after tha’ though. She loved Kaline with all her heart. She taught Kaline through the five years that she was alive, never lettin’ her see once how weak she was becoming. I had known she was old and that she was weak to our diseases at tha’ point, but she refused to stay at home out of the danger, she wished to walk the land she lived in with her daughter and teach her, and so she did. It was during the winter eleven years ago, in a week of extremely heavy snow, that she died. Both me and Kaline tried our best to keep her warm and to feed her, but she passed away. Now I’ll tell you this, and you’d better listen well, she loved Kaline and wished to stay with her, in her final day she never let go off Kaline’s hand, so don’t you dare hurt Kalime’s treasure. I know what you’ll do now, you’ll take her away, train her like this god-damn country has, she’s strong, too strong and I know that you’ll have noticed that already. She also looks like you, there’s no hiding where she belongs. But let me say this; once she leaves here, she cannot return, this is not my choice but the governments, they will wish to kill her the moment she steps foot in this country and I won’t be able to stop them. I finished my army service years ago, my left leg bust means I can only just farm, I’m not fit for an army anymore, that’s the only reason I’m alive. So I wish you the best of luck. And now I wish for a moment with my child, alone.” My father stated at the end, reaching for my arm and heaving me up as the commander nodded and signalled his men out the room.
“Father.” I paused looking up at him, his eyes sorrowful and ashamed. “Will they really take me to Elander?”
“Yes, that’s where you belong now, where you always belonged, now it’s time for you to go. I won’t be able to come you know. I’m not fit for travelling long distances and I know they’d rather not have me in their country, after all I took their beloved Kalime.” My father muttered looking at me wistfully. He then turned to the door where the commander now stood; he nodded and pushed me gently but firmly towards the door and the commander. “Now go. Goodbye.”

The elves looked at me sympathetically as I was lead out of my home by the commander and lifted onto Handred’s horse. We turned around immediately cantering off towards the countries border. I turned lightly on the horse and stared at the battered house with my father standing in the doorway, imprinting the image into my memory I turned away.

We travelled speedily across the dying land, dead and withered trees covered in snow and the green lakes freezing. I shivered at the cold and the effect it had on my wet clothes and skin, Handred noticed and asked his commander to call a halt.
“Sir, the girl’s freezing, she is wearing wet clothes and is soaked to the skin, and I can feel her consciousness slipping.” Handred muttered rubbing his hands against my arms in a feeble attempt to warm them. The elves turned to stare at me once more, but I didn’t care, my mind had already begun to wander as my body felt different, heavy and limp I strangely had the wish to sleep though it was not near nightfall yet. And yet I still found my body wishing to sleep in the tiring cold, my eyes drifted open and shut my body now unable to do little more then shiver uncontrollably. I hardly felt it as I was lifted off the horse and placed next to a fire, nor did I feel it when my clothes were swapped for dry winter cloaks and clothes. I slept fitfully through the rest of the ride, nightmares of the vampire and those eyes staring endlessly at me.

The next time I woke it was in a warm place I felt people’s breath on my face as they hung over me, checking my pulse, my temperature and placing a wet flannel on my forehead in an attempt to cool my raging fever. I was sweating heavily, but for once it was not because of my constant nightmares, I winced as I once again envisioned those staring eyes. Slowly I began to hear the flow of their conversation and managed to pick out words, but their speech was fast and my mind slow and groggy.
“Sire, may I ask the age of the child? I need to work out the strength of the medicine and how long it may take for her to recover fully enough to continue her journey.” An old rusty voice resounded next to my head, but I could barely move a finger let alone open my eyes and look at the owner of the voice, though I could tell by the low resonance of the voice that it was a male.
I felt someone’s breath hitting my face as they lent over to study my face carefully.
“Hmmm, her age is rather hard to judge isn’t it? To be honest I have no clue of her age, but she cannot be more then eighteen years of age, they get sent to war at that age and she was at the military school.” I heard a baritone timbre voice, Handred; still I could not open my eyes. I struggled with mind and body to try to force my heavy lids open but it failed and panic set in, it was impossible to think straight so I just listened to the voices resounding close to me. “She is my sister’s child with a human, until last week I had not known of her existence nor my sister’s untimely death. I found out when I saw her at that military school.” He continued sounding sad and regretful. After that I had heard the light tapping of soft-soled shoes on the ground and the heavy creaking of a door as they left the room leaving me alone and confused.
The two men visited regularly, once every day, discussing my condition and how long I would be out for, I counted the days by the sounds of the shouts in the streets outside. At morning I would hear the workers set off and the children singing songs to wish them well, midday I heard the screams of mothers as they called their children in for lunch, and at night the heavy, tired tramp of the workers as they returned to their homes, their wives singing welcoming songs and telling them about the meal on the table. After that, when I knew the night had set, I would hear the weaving melody of both father and mother singing their children the soft and lulling lullabies of old.
Every two days the men would arrive with a servant, a woman I presumed, who came and washed me down, changing my clothes, singing soothing and relaxing songs of Elander. The days went by and I felt my strength returning slightly more every day, by the seventh day I was able to move slightly and was trying desperately to open my eyes when the door swung open for the two men’s daily inspection of my health.