Child of Nyuvreth -Chapter 4

ENURIN


Brushing her golden hair and untangling the messy curls, Enurin grabbed an apple from the burlap sack at the end of her bed and took a large bite of it. It was a sweltering Saturday morning and there was hardly any breeze, which makes it all the more unbearable. Enurin decided to wear a loose, white shirt that she rolled up to her elbows. She grabbed a few rolls of bread from her burlap sack and stuffed them into a leather bag. Smoothing out her dark trousers, she went out the door and headed downstairs.

The dusty and rotting wooden staircase creaked and groaned under her weight as she continued down the stairs. There was not much noise, aside from the low whisperings of the elderly man as he spoke to his cat a level below. Enurin proceeded to the landing and down another flight of stairs and faced the corridor before her. The corridor was just like the staircase, ancient and in a state of perpetual decay with various sized holes in the ceiling.

There are three doors on both the left and the right side of the corridor, facing each other. But five of them were empty and practically unliveable, except for one. Enurin took a few steps forward before turning to the second door on the left. She knocked and patiently waited.

There was a light shuffling behind the oaken door before it fully opened, revealing a short, stout middle-aged lady with white streaks in her thick mane of wavy chocolate hair. The woman looked up, her coal-black eyes lit up, with an expression of pure joy plastered all over her face.

"Good morning, Myrda," greeted Enurin.

"Enurin, my dear," Myrda smiled, "do come in!"

Enurin stepped into Myrda's apartment, which was slightly smaller compared to her's in the attic. Like the rest of the building, the walls and floors of Myrda's apartment were also gradually rotting away, with most of the paint on the walls entirely peeled off. Yet Myrda still made an effort to make the place look presentable, keeping the small living space clean and picking fresh flowers each day to put in her vase by the window. There was a small round table in the right corner of the room that could accommodate two people, and a hard camp bed in the left corner.

"Here, this is for you," Enurin said, handing the leather bag over.

Myrda opened it, gasping at its contents.

"By the blood of the Elders, where did ya get all of this food?"

"Umm..." Enurin paused, "I stole them from one of the rich worms."

"Enurin, I thought you promised that you'll stop," Myrda groaned.

" Well, I really tried," she protested, "But-"

"But?"

"I tried looking for jobs all over the kingdom," Enurin confessed, "But the wages aren't enough to buy even one loaf of bread! Considering there is bread left in the bakeries. Did you hear that the crops failed again this year? There'll be no grain to make bread."

"I know," Myrda sighed tiredly, "Folks say some kind of darkness is draining the life outta the land. They say only the Chosen can save us, but there ain't been a Chosen for a long time."

"I don't understand why most people still believe that there'll be a Chosen!"

"These are dark times, child," Myrda said. "People are desperate, so they hold on to the only comfort they could find."

Enurin nodded, agreeing silently as she sat down by the round table. The grumblings of the people of Eyroth have steadily grown louder each day. The land wasn't as fertile as it used to be and many of the poor despaired of the apparent lack of food. The elite hid themselves away in their towering mansions and hoarded the remaining food stores to themselves. The Elders tried to dissuade them from doing so, but with the absence of the Chosen so glaringly apparent the elite simply shrugged them off. It seems nothing could be resolved without the Chosen.

"Are ya comin' tomorrow?" Myrda suddenly asked, placing the leather bag down on the round table and sitting across Enurin.

"Uh, what are you talking about?"

"You don't know? The Festival of Selection is tomorrow!"

"Oh...that." Enurin mumbled, disinterested.

"So, ya comin'?"

"I don't see the purpose of being there, Myrda," Enurin answered, "all of the candidates will probably inherit useless powers like the years before."

"That may be true," Myrda admitted. "But it's a distraction for everybody. You know it'll be lavish with the Elders participating and all-"

"Who cares about them? I have more pressing matters to look into, such as where to get food and how in demon's blood am I going to earn mone-" Enurin stopped her rant unexpectedly when a thought crossed her mind.

If the Festival of Selection is tomorrow, not only will a majority of the common people be present, but so will some of the devout elite and a few filthy rich merchants selling their wares. With everyone distracted by the procession before them, it would be the perfect setting to make use of her powers and summon her "hands" to snatch some coin pouches from unsuspecting victims.

Nearly giggling in glee, Enurin quickly stopped herself from doing so in case Myrda became suspicious and caught on to her less than savoury intentions. No matter the countless times Myrda attempted to discourage her from continuing her life of crime before the authorities do, Enurin couldn't and wouldn't deter herself from doing so. It was almost akin to an addiction in which the girl found incredibly difficult to break away from to instead take a much more honest path of living. But once she discovered her strange powers and began to dabble with it, Enurin found it to be a more of a benefit instead of a nuisance. And to be entirely candid, it made doing "jobs" much more convenient for her. She needn't do any such bothersome and risk-inducing actions such as infiltrating the place or picking valuables up one by one. She painstakingly trained and controlled her "hands" since childhood and now they knew exactly what to do without being asked.

"So are ya coming?" Myrda's voice broke through her train of thought.

"W-what?"

"Where else? The Festival of Selection, of course!" the woman threw her hands up in the air exasperatedly.

"Y-yeah, I'll be going as well," Enurin stuttered embarrassingly.

"Oh well this is wonderful," Myrda cheered, "there's finally a hopeful spark in that pessimistic mind of yours!"

Enurin could only look away and rolled her eyes.

"Oh and by the way, did ya hear?"

"Hear what?" Enurin questioned, turning her head towards Myrda.

"Folks all over been talking about how some of the royal guards were chasin' this thief," Myrda said. "They were about to catch the bastard when she up and gone! Guards were sayin' how the girl used her powers or some sort to disappear!"

Enurin froze. The royal guards must've reported it to the Elder they were serving, and one if not all of them might've gone to a tavern and spread the word in their drunken state. Enurin wanted to slap herself for her earlier blunder. This was what befalls those who become overly confident and steeped in hubris.

"Do they know who she is?" Enurin asked, nerves in tatters.

"Nope, it appears to be a nobody," Myrda smiled, "but many believe the Chosen has arisen and hope she'll appear tomorrow!"

Enurin cursed silently beneath her breath. She'd have to be extremely cautious from now on, especially tomorrow. She no longer had the luxury of being as carefree as a bird with her powers. Everyone will be on high alert for a female who could very well be the Chosen they have all been waiting for.

"Ah I see," Enurin muttered. "It's probably just a hoax."

"I see you're still not looking at the bright side of things." Myrda sighed, disappointed.

Enurin stayed silent, her head bent slightly downwards.

Myrda simply shook her head in disapproval. She understood that Enurin had the tendency to view things in a cynical and negative way due to certain traumatic experiences in the past, but Myrda stood her ground in the belief that the girl could change. All Enurin had to do was try and it would work, Myrda was sure of it.

Enurin was not blind to Myrda's obvious attempts. She failed countless times before in her endeavour to transform Enurin but stubbornly refused to give up. Myrda was the type of person that stayed optimistic and frighteningly cheerful during the hardest of times. At first Enurin felt annoyed, but gradually she began to admire and respect Myrda's ability to gaze upon challenging situations in a favourable light.

Laying a gentle hand on Enurin's shoulder, the girl lifted her head and her blue orbs met those of Myrda's kindly, dark ones.

"But it doesn't matter for now," Myrda murmured, "you can always try again."

Enurin only nodded in response.

"I guess I've been keeping you longer than I should have," Myrda said, "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow mornin'!"

"See you," she answered, and stood up.

Enurin plodded towards the front door, swinging it gently open. She stopped before crossing the threshold, turning around and waving at Myrda. The woman only smiled and waved back, as Enurin walked out the door and swung it shut.

         

21