Lyra (Based on CT's FF:DD RPG) - Chapter Three

[Samchu]

I figured it was about time that I started submitting some work in here so here's my (possibly extended into the next year) NanoWrimo project.

Lyra
Chapter One

Rain dripped from the corner of a burnt-out rooftop, captured a glimmer of daylight in its belly, and fell to the ground. Lyra watched it crash before her toes, adding to the puddle of murky liquid forming in front of her feet. She’d been watching it grow all day; ever since her siblings had left her there in the downpour. It had been a different place then, a blackened slum turned grey by the downpour’s mist, set out on the face of a sheet of pristine glass. Only shards remained now, scattered across the uneven stone.

A trader struggled with his cart in the distance. The rotting wood bobbled and creaked as he half-pushed, half-carried it across the dampened ground. A sudden shudder sent his mound of goods tumbling. Most of them landed safely in the cart but some fell just beyond its boundaries and clattered to the floor. He looked around, eyes wide, body twitching, like a rat on the hunt from a predator. The hairs of his moustache twitched and he took off, scuttling from item to item, scooping them into the cradle he’d made from his arm.

He didn’t see Lyra run up beside him or pick up a rusted pocket-watch that had rolled under the cart and used its shadow to hide from him. She took the browning metal in her hand and tapped the trader on the shoulder. He spun round and his eyes widened at the sight of her holding his possession. His forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows raced to meet head on. He looked like he wasn’t sure whether Lyra was going to hit him, or he was going to hit her first.

“You dropped this,” she said.

He glanced at the watch and then at Lyra. He scanned the length of her body, eyes darting at every flinch, as if he suspected foul play. Finally, he held out his hand. “Thank you."

Lyra returned the watch and ran back to her waiting spot.

The chimes of the bell tower echoed through the empty streets. Then came the familiar voices; the high-pitched excitement and the stoic praise that followed it. Her brothers had arrived.

“First again,” said Cole with a grin that made her shiver from more than the cold. He walked up to her and bent to meet her eyes. “Get anything good?”

“Get anything at all?” added Fin, a similar smirk plastered across his own face.

Lyra bit her lip and took a step back into the shadows of the house.

“Hey!” Cole’s hand smacked her shoulder. “I asked you a question.”

Lyra’s attention shot to the floor and stayed there. She tried to find the strength to answer him but all of her energy seemed to be stuck in her legs, making them quiver like homeless dogs in the winter. Nothing. She repeated the word over and over in her mind, as though the very thought of it would grant her enough courage to say it out loud. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing…

He had her pinned against the wall so fast that she didn’t know he had done it until pain began to resonate through her spine.

“Lyra,” his voice was a low growl.

“Nothing,” she whispered.

He wanted to hit her, she could tell by the way the air moved and tensed between them, but he didn’t. He couldn’t with Hayden standing between them.

The youngest sibling stared up at his brother with a courage Lyra could only wish she possessed. There was a clash of blue eyes, a silent war played out between sets of navy until Hayden said, “no being mean to Lyra. She’s family too.”

“And family looks out for one another. Don’t they Cole?” Lyra hadn’t realised that her sister had arrived until she heard her voice, and from the way Cole’s hands dug a little harder into her shoulders, he hadn’t realised it either.

He snorted and let go of Lyra. “Tell her that. We stay hungry ‘cause she won’t steal.”

Shayna took her little sister and hugged her. “She’ll learn,” she lied.

Cole and Fin shook her heads. Lyra would have too if she’d had strength enough to dare to. She hadn’t stolen a thing in her life. She knew they were poor, she knew they would starve without the money her siblings stole and her parents conned from the upper classes but being a thief was something that Lyra just couldn’t do. And they all knew that.

“Everybody made it safe again today. I’m glad.”

Hayden ran to his mother with a grin that threatened to swallow both his cheeks. He pulled out the purse that he’d been hiding beneath his rags and bounced it with his palm so that the jagged edges near the base jumped up and down. It was a small steal, worth little more than a few scraps of bread, but it was his first solo theft and he was proud of it.

“We can all feed ourselves now,” muttered Cole. “You want us to keep suffering for her?” He nudged Fin’s arm and the two of them wandered over to their mother.

“Don’t worry,” said Shayna, still holding her sister. “No matter what happens, I’ll protect you.”

They waited until their brothers were sent home and just the Xanthrope women remained in the darkening streets.

Lyra wriggled deep into her mother’s embrace and clung to the skirt of her dress as she fought against herself to keep back her tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Kara worked her fingers through the knots in her daughter’s hair. “You and I are just a little bit different, aren’t we? I have my red hair and you have your principles.”

Lyra looked at her mother, frowning at the word she didn’t recognise. She tried saying it aloud but fumbled over the memory of it.

“Principles,” her mother said again. “It means you’re going to do great things one day. You’re going to be the one responsible for getting us out of the slums.”

“Really?”

The smiled that followed could have convinced the devout to turn against their religions. “Really.”

Lyra thanked her mother with a grasp that almost toppled her.

“Can we go home now?” asked Shayna.

Kara held both her daughters close to her. “I thought we’d go for a walk, just us girls.”

It was rare for them to get the chance to spend any time alone with either of their parents and although both of them were hungry and eager to get home to their dinner, their agreed to their mother’s request instantly.

Kara smiled and pulled the scarf from her shoulders. She wrapped it around her daughters, locking them together with the worn fabric. It pained her that she could only do this much. The darkening skies were pulling with them the chills of late winter. Wealthier families would be out buying their children thick coats to protect them against the harsh elements but Kara could do nothing for her children. They could be warm and starve or eat and be cold. There was no middle ground. Not for this family.

Lyra couldn’t see the worry on her mother’s face as they walked the lower city streets nor did she hear in each of her mother’s deep, heart-filled sighs, the worry that one of their clan might not survive the coming winter. She skipped down the uneven paths, her mind filled with the happy thoughts of the ‘great things’ she might one day accomplish and the looks on her family’s faces when they told her how proud of her. Lyra Xanthrope, hero of the year, saviour of the Xanthrope family .She imagined handing her father a key to a house that towered over them, with glass in the windows and new paint of the walls. She had visions of shopping with her mother and the two of them buying nice shoes to wear when they went walking in the rain. She would walk to school with her siblings and they would play with the other children afterwards. They would have games of tag and Cole would always win because he was the fastest and when the girls asked him why he was so fast, he would tell them of their past and of how Lyra had saved them. Then the children would gather round her and tell how good she had been and how lucky they were to have a friend like her. She smiled and snuggled deeper into the scarf. Having friends would be wonderful.

Shayna spotted two red balls hanging from the door of a nearby house. “Look Mum,” she said, pointing towards them, “they already have their Theonian decorations up.”

“They must have just moved here from the Upper Circle. They put their decorations up a month in advance instead of a week, like we do.”

“Why?”

“Well, because the Upper Classes like to have competitions to see who can make the nicest displays so that the Gods will favour their family. So, as soon as the shop keepers start selling decorations, everyone rushes out to buy the best ones.”

“But we can’t do that, can we?”

Kara shook her head.

“Why can’t we?” asked Lyra. She
had never grasped the extent of the Upper and Lower Class divide the way that Shayna had.

“Because we get the leftovers,” Shayna replied, with a bitter ‘humph!’ at the end.

Lyra looked to her mother for an explanation, her sister’s words having only confused her more. What does food have to do with Theonian decorations?

“A week before Theonia; all the shop keepers in the Upper Circle sell the decorations that they have left to the shop keepers in the Lower Circle.”

“So…” Lyra began, thinking hard, “we can only buy our decorations a week before Theonia?”

“Didn’t you notice?”

Lyra shook her head at her sister. She had never been out shopping for the family and when they went out on the steal, Lyra spent most of her time sitting in the street or exploring abandoned buildings. She hardly ever saw shops, let alone what was inside of them.

“But it’s good for us,” said Kara, hoping to raise her children’s spirits. “Because we get them last, they’re cheaper, so we can buy more food and still have nice decorations. That’s why your father insists on waiting until the eve of Theonia, so that he can buy something really special for us to eat.”

“Maybe we should buy nice decorations instead of nice food. Maybe the Gods will favour us instead and we can go back to living in the Upper Circle.”

Kara embraced her daughters. “I don’t need the Gods’ favour or a nice house or lots of money. I have everything I want right here.”

The two girls returned their mother’s gesture and the three continued walking. Kara walked behind them, a mixture of hope and sadness twisting within her. She had never told her children why they had been forced to leave the Upper Circle; she didn’t want to ruin the dreams they had of it, not whilst they were still young enough to believe in them. Kara could never return to the Upper Circle but there was still hope for her children, so she encouraged them with stories of warm winters and large banquets. One day they will forget the sadness and hardships of this world. Gods grant them that much.

They turned a corner and a door beside them banged open. Lyra felt the panic in her mother’s hands as she pulled her two children out of the way. A jumble of limbs shot past their faces and crashed into a pile of broken crates. With a groan it rolled onto its stomach and lifted itself onto its knees, spitting as it slurred curses back into the dimly lit doorway.

“No money, no service,” shouted a voice from inside.

“She took my money,” he retorted as he slipped back onto his rear. “Damn red-head got every penny off of me.”

Lyra couldn’t resist her mother’s pulls as Kara tried to drag them both back into the other street but neither could she take her eyes off of the man sat just a few feet away from her. He was wobbling, eyes glazed and ghostlike as he stared up at the sky, an empty bottle clutched in his left hand.

“It smells.”

Those ghost-eyes were on them in an instant and Lyra saw something in them change, as though the fogs of drunkenness had suddenly parted ways to make way for something else, something dark and sinister. She grabbed her sister’s hand.

“Get out of here. Go, both of you.”

Lyra had never heard her mother talk that way. Shayna had to pull her all the way from their mother’s side before the younger sister could take her eyes off of her.

“We have to get dad.”

Lyra could barely hear her sister speak. The sound of heated voices had filled the street. Shop owners began boarding their windows to keep out the sound of the fight. Lyra strained her ears to make out what was being said but she couldn’t.

“Lyra? Are you listening to me? We have to get help.”

“But-”

There was a scream. Lyra wrestled against the scarf, desperate to loosen the fabric from around her neck. She needed to get to her mother; she needed to make sure that she was alright and that the man in the alley hadn’t done anything to hurt her. Above all else, she had to protect her. Because this was the slums, and no one else would help her. The scarf from her shoulders and she was gone before it touched the floor. She rounded the corner and froze; her body unable to comprehend what it was seeing. Mum! The voice in her head screamed but Lyra was silent. Mum! Gods, no! Mum! Mum! She saw the man at her mother’s side stumbling; her hand was clasped tightly around his ankle.

“Gods damn you!” he launched his foot into her face. Lyra felt the blow in her stomach. Her mother released her grip on her attacker’s ankle.

The scene before her faded into colours, a mess of black and red and grey. And the red spreading, engulfing everything like a starving beast, gorging on the greys and blacks until it was the only thing that remained. Something within Lyra stirred, ancient and primitive, instinctual almost, like a voice in her head that she couldn’t ignore. She launched herself forward and grabbed his arm, digging into the bare flesh with her teeth. He yelped with pain and tried to shake her off but she would not yield. Liquid touched her chin, blood or sweat she didn’t know but it only made her bite harder.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled until she cried out, releasing him from her hold. Bloodied glass pierced her arm and he threw her back against the wall of the bar. She ran at him again but he only knocked her back. Again she attacked and again and again, but every time he was waiting for her, every time he would send her back with either a fist or a foot. But she would not give up. She continued to fight, pointless as she knew it was, until her body refused to obey her and she could do nothing but slump against the wall, her limbs shivering and numb. It was his turn to come at her; the man with the predator’s grin and the killer’s eyes. He’d had a taste for her blood and he wanted more.

She watched him shuffle closer. The dull streams of moonlight bounced off the jagged glass in his hand, illuminating the spots of blood still clinging to the murky material. Darkness seeped in to her vision. Soon the street was gone, then her mother, and finally the man before her. All she could see was the blood – hers and her mother’s – the last connection the two of them would ever share. Something in her started to cry out but the words never found their way to her lips. Please, let me die with her. I don’t…I don’t want to die alone…

Shapes without edges moved across her vision. She heard a rumble like thunder in the distance and the smash of breaking glass. A shadow passed before her and for a moment Lyra thought she heard a distant voice calling to her. But then the silence came, and the darkness, and she slipped silently into its hold.

[Samchu]

Right, I've decided I'm going to try to update this story weekly. Hopefully it'll focus my writing a bit over the next few hectic days and weeks. Feel free me yell at me via PM or MSN if I don't update; it might help me get my ass in gear.

Chapter 2

Her body felt like it was floating despite the boulders pressing down on her muscles. Where am I? She looked back into her mind for answers but all she found was fog and nothingness, like staring through a steamed-up window. There were colours in the distance but she couldn’t distinguish who or what they belonged to. She tried reaching a hand towards them but her muscles screeched with pain and the arm remained still. She tried again but the pain was stronger this time. I’m too tired. She felt her body sink a little as she thought. I’m too tired to keep fighting. Her body sank deeper into the absence. Peace swept over her like a lover, soft and comforting, ready to take her into its arms. She nuzzled into its embrace and felt the confines of her mind collapse, burying the fragments of her thoughts beneath its remains.

“Lyra?”

Something pulled her back, like a hand on the collar of her shirt.

“Lyra, can you hear me?”

Pain. The sensation hit her muscles and they cried out in agony. She could feel the warmth that had held her fading away, leaving her core cold and empty. Heat radiated against her skin. She reached for it, hoping to find that same feeling again.

“Wake up. Please Lyra, wake up.”

There was something in her hand, hot and wet, like a stone brought in from the summer rain. She tightened her fingers around it.

“Lyra!”

There was a weight pressing on her chest and the faint smell of lavender. The lavender from two Theonias ago. Their mother had given it to…

“Shayna…”

Shayna’s hold on her sister tightened. Lyra could feel every sleepless night spent at her bedside in that hug. “I was so worried. I thought…” her words were lost under choked sobs.

Lyra was only aware of the wetness seeping into her shoulder. It was returning to her slowly, the memories. She could smell it first, which confused her because she couldn’t remember smelling anything at the time. Then she could see all of the things that her vision had missed as those fateful moments ticked by; the way the light hit the stones and bathed them in pale silver, the barmaid who closed the door on them, the body of her mother, still and blood-stained on the ground.

“Mu-”

She cut herself off so that Shayna wouldn’t have to answer it. She already knew in her heart what the answer to her question was. She had been too late. Their mother had died and Lyra had been powerless to save her. She had failed to protect the one person who had always believed in her.

“I couldn’t save her…”

Shayna nuzzled her sister gently, tears still running from her eyes. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“But I should have been able to do something! I couldn’t have won but maybe I could have held him off long enough for her to-”

“Idiot,” Shayna whispered. “Why did you have to do anything? Why couldn’t you run away like you do with Cole and Fin? They said you might not wake up. What about me? It was hard enough losing one of you what was I supposed to do if I’d lost you both?”

“I couldn’t run anymore,” Lyra replied, her voice the steadiest Shayna had ever heard it. “I needed to be strong – like she was.”

Shayna sat up and looked away. She couldn’t bear to look at Lyra’s bruised and swollen face with its pale skin and those eyes that looked as though they had stared into the empty vastness of eternity and seen the true of extent of it. It was too painful. It reminded her too much of what she had lost. “Being strong gets you killed. You can do everything you can to become stronger but all it takes is one person and one night and that’s it. It doesn’t matter how strong you are, you’re just weak and vulnerable, like everybody else.”

“I’m going to change that,” Lyra squeezed the hand that Shayna had left in hers. “I’m going to be so strong that no one will be able to beat me. I’ll be able to protect everyone.”

“You can’t even protect yourself.” Shayna drew in her lips and bit them. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say, how she was supposed to react. Their mother would have known, she’d always known how to handle Lyra, but Shayna had never figured out the secret. The two of them had gotten close, that was true, but Shayna had never understood Lyra. She had tried, the Gods knew she had tried, but no matter what she did, no matter how close she appeared to be getting to her sister, it was as if there was something there, keeping her from her. It was the gap that Shayna had never been able to cross and now it felt wider than ever. Looking at Lyra was like staring at a figure in the distance. She wasn’t even sure if the few truths she knew about her were even true anymore. “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping that words would somehow rebuild some of their broken bond. “It’s hard.”

Lyra closed her eyes and breathed deep. The air was still and musty. She imagined the windows hadn’t been opened in days, probably as long as she’d been there. “How long was I asleep?” she made an effort to change the subject; to ease the strain on both of them.

“A week. Dad brought you straight to Master Locki’s house.”

Lyra thought the furnishings on the wall were too intricately-designed for one of their kind to possess. Master Locki was an upper class healer with a well-known reputation. Stories of his involvement with the diagnoses and treatments of the royal family were regularly circulated amongst all the classes. His services would not have come cheaply – especially not to one born of such a lowly family as hers. The family would have suffered greatly to secure her wellbeing, even if neither of them would admit it later.

The prolonged silence made Shayna uncomfortable. “Do you want something to eat or drink? I can ask Master Locki for something; you are his patient after all so I doubt he’ll say no.”

Lyra knew he wouldn’t say no, but that was only because he could charge more for the privilege of feeding her. She didn’t want to put any more strain on her family but she needed to eat and it would be difficult for them to smuggle stolen food into the house of a man with Master Locki’s standing. The rich food will do me good, she thought, trying to convince herself. I will get better faster. It will make the treatment cheaper. “I’m starving,” she said at last.

Shayna found the strength to smile at her sister. “I’ll see if I can get one of your favourites.” She hopped down from the bed and made her way out, only to pause half-way through the doorway. “Get better first,” she said, her voice trapped by quiet stillness, “then you can try and become strong.” It was the last glimmer of hope that Shayna had to hold on to; that Lyra would either never recover from the ordeal or that the recovery would take so long that she would have forgotten all about becoming stronger. Shayna didn’t care which one it was, just as long as she didn’t have to say goodbye to her sister. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Lyra had to spend a week in bed before she had enough strength to begin leaving it. Shayna visited her every day with news of the family, as if she was trying to create a world of normality for Lyra to return to. “Cole and Fin haven’t stopped complaining since you woke up. They think you’re faking so you won’t have to go out and steal.”

“They’re hot-headed by nature. Anger is how they’re coping,” responded Lyra. She was sat upright, sipping a mug of herb tea her healer had brewed for her.

“Hayden hasn’t said anything,” Shayna’s eyes narrowed as she spoke. It was the only sign she gave for how worried she really was about the youngest Xanthrope child.

“He doesn’t know how to cope with the emptiness. He’ll learn, give him time.”

Their conversations had been like this all week. Shayna wasn’t sure whether this cold distance that Lyra seemed to have created was her way of dealing with the death or whether she really didn’t care about what her family was going through. She wanted to scream out, cry out, I know you’re suffering but so are we! You’re not the only one who has to deal with this. But she said nothing. The bond that held the two of them felt too fragile, she wasn’t sure it could take the strain of her reaction. “Dad said we can have the funeral when you’re strong enough to go.”

Lyra was silent for a moment. “Tomorrow.” Her gaze was fixed on the room’s only window, finally opened after days of protesting.

“Master Locki said you’d need at least three days-”

“Tomorrow,” she repeated, her voice hard enough to make Shayna shiver. “She’s waited long enough.”

* * *

The Temple stalls were packed with mourners. The Priests had to bring in chairs from their own quarters to accommodate so many people and even then there were those forced to stand at the back; silent figures swaying above a sea of black-topped heads. Lyra sat the end of her row and Shayna squeezed in between her and the rest of her family. No one spoke. Shayna glanced between her sister and her siblings, alert in the motherly role she had felt obliged to fill, but everyone was staring ahead, their eyes fixed on the wooden box raised before them.

One of the Priests walked in front of them. He glanced at them all with a solemn frown then clasped his hands and bowed his head. “Great Lords above us. We begin today the ritual of passing, of this life’s departure from the sufferings of our world and into the eternal peace of the Otherworld. Please hear the mortal words of these peoples and accept this woman.” The last line echoed through the Temple as the gathering copied the Priest’s words. Lyra remained silent. “We could all speak to great lengths on the deeds of this woman but we cannot do her justice.” He fiddled with his hands as he spoke. Lyra noticed that he didn’t once dare to look back into the coffin. “Kevin has a few words to say before we proceed.” He stepped down and took the empty seat near the front of the audience as the head of the Xanthrope family took his place.

Lyra clenched her fists in her lap and pressed them deep into her thighs. That’s it? Seven years she helped him deliver his Tuesday sermons and that’s all he can say? Coward of a man! He couldn’t even look at her. The muscles in her arms ached to be used, begged to send her fists into the face of such a man but her mind would not allow it. Low as a scummer he may have been but he was still a man of the Gods. She risked their wrath with only thoughts of touching him.

Lyra hadn’t seen her father in over a week. She hadn’t even looked at him when she and Shayna had come in but she saw him now. He was pale-faced and trembling, feverish almost. His face was thinner. The bones beneath his glowing red eyes were sticking out of his face, casting dark shadows underneath. His lips were cracked. His blonde hair, ever neat when greasy, was pulled like a sheet over his eyes. Stragglers were many. They reached up to the heavens as though wishing to join their beloved in the Otherworld. Maybe they did. Maybe he did. He wouldn’t be the first husband to die over heartbreak. She hated herself for the thought and mentally scolded herself for it. He failed too. He came too late to do anything but save me. He has the same guilt.

“Kara…” his voice was shaky. He looked ready to burst into tears.

Shayna leaned over to her sister. “He hasn’t spoken to anyone about it,” she whispered. “He told the boys but after that…”

“Kara was…” He bit the bottom of his lip and blinked. “Kara was…”

Lyra jumped from her seat and ran up to him. She put her arms around his waist and hugged him. “We miss her too.”

Kevin pulled his daughter into his stomach. She could feel his body jolt in her arms as his tears fell into her hair. She wanted to cry too but she couldn’t. She had cried her tears on those nights alone in Master Locki’s house and only her pillows would ever know it. The pain still nestled inside her, along with the emptiness and the guilt but on the outside she pretended to be strong. She couldn’t be weak anymore. Not if she was going to protect her family.

Lyra broke away from her father and faced the others. “Our mother was a good person. She worked hard to help support the family she loved and she was still here every Tuesday, mopping floors, dusting seats, even teaching the prayers to those that cannot read so that maybe the Gods would look kindly on them. She touched a lot of people. That’s why you came here; to say thank you. She would be happy to see you all.” She heard her father slink back to his seat and had to force herself not to look at him. It hurt to see him in so much pain. Are my brothers suffering this way too? Shayna…why are you hiding their sadness from me? Are you trying to carry it all by yourself, like she did? Are you trying to take her place?

“But…I think she would be sad too. She gave so much to this City and the people who should have protected her weren’t there when she needed them. Do you know what happened that night? Do you know what happened when he attacked her and she screamed for help?” She pointed a finger out at the crowd. “You ignored her! You locked your doors and boarded up your windows. You left it to us to protect her; to people too weak to do anything, people who foolishly placed their faith in the hands of others. She died because of weakness. Our weakness and yours. But I’m going to stop that. I’m going to protect this family!” There were thick puddles in her palms. She looked down at them and saw streams of blood swimming inside the pale oceans. “We’ve suffered enough because of you…”

She walked over to her mother’s body. They had dressed her in the one thing she had been allowed to take with her from her old life; a black woollen dress. She’d never worn it in the slums. She had wanted to preserve it; she wanted “something to wear when she visited her children in the Upper Circle.” That dream could never happen now.

“I’m going to get us back there, just like you said I would.” She bent and kissed her mother’s forehead. “I’m going to make you proud.” She gazed once more into her mother’s still and peaceful face. She hoped that she would always remember her this way and not as she did in her dreams. Someone had pulled out the necklace their father had given her, she golden acorn-shaped pendant hung proudly from the thin chain. She had always worn it. Lyra took hold of the pendant and pulled. The clasp of the chain came apart and Lyra slipped the necklace into her pocket. “I don’t want to ever forget what I’m working for. When the time comes I’ll make sure to bring it back. I promise you that much.”

She returned to her seat without a word. She was aware of some of the guests watching her and she could sense the irritation in their eyes but she didn’t care. Every word she had spoken had been truth. In the end, it had been her father and two city guardsmen who had taken down her attacker. No one else. The people of this city had betrayed both her and her mother with their failings. She could never forgive them for that.

The Priest finished off the service with another prayer. The lid was nailed into the top of the coffin by her father and three men Lyra didn’t recognise. The four of them carried it out into the downpour.

They followed the coffin-carriers in a slow, silent procession. The rain tore into them, piercing their thin clothes like icy pin-pricks. Lyra hugged herself as she walked. Shayna had wrapped her arms around Hayden. Cole and Fin moved as if they didn’t even realise it was raining. The water touched the wooden box and left dark spots with its fingertips. By the time they reached the grave it had darkened its pale exterior completely.

They huddled together around the edges of the open grave and whispered prayers as the coffin was lowered into the ground by thick strings. The Xanthropes took turns to throw clumps of soaked dirt onto the top of the coffin. Little of the earth made it. It clung to their hands, leaving brown puddles on their skin. Cole and Fin wiped the remains off on the knees of their trousers. Shayna cleaned hers and Hayden’s hands with a tissue she’d stolen from Master Locki’s house. Lyra kept the mud in her palm. She refused to let go of the moments. I don’t to forget what has happened. Even if it is painful, I want to remember, because…she fingered the necklace hidden in her pocket. Memories are all I have left of you.

Earth was shovelled onto the grave until the coffin had vanished completely. Only a mound of earth remained to signify that their mother rested there. Hayden poked his parting gift into the height of the mound. It was a thick twig with smaller twigs wrapped around it and tied in place with fraying string. They formed a triangle at the top and a square at the bottom. Lyra wasn’t sure but it seemed like Hayden had been trying to make the symbol for ‘love’ in the Gods’ ancient language. She didn’t think their mother had gotten around to teaching him that but then it had never occurred to her that he might have done more with their mother at Temple than play hide and seek in the benches as she cleaned. Maybe the problem was never just that they didn’t understand me. She gazed at her siblings. Maybe the problem was that I never understood them either.

The Priest led them in final prayers and the mourners departed with words of condolences. Lyra noticed the way they avoided her eyes as they muttered kind words on their way past. They’re angry. She couldn’t hold back a smirk. Let them be angry. Soon they’ll be apologising for their mistakes. They’ll see. We don’t need them. I’ll protect this family; I’ll get us back into the Upper Circle. Just you all watch. I’ll make you regret letting my mother die.

“Come on,” their father put his hands on his daughters’ shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

That night, they prepared a small meal to commemorate the ceremony and Kara’s memory. They lit a candle and stood it in the place where Kara had eaten. Their father set out the plates before them and sat. No one moved. They stared in silence at the flickering candle at the end of the table.

“It doesn’t feel right,” said Fin.

Their father bit into his knuckles. “It will take time to adjust.”

“We shouldn’t have to adjust! She should still be here. She should…” he withdrew into his seat. “I miss her.”

“We all miss her,” said Cole. “We all think it isn’t fair but getting angry won’t make her come back.” He glanced at Lyra. “Neither will pretty speeches.”

“It wasn’t a speech. I meant it, every word of it.”

“Gods curse you, Lyra!” He slammed his fist onto the table and it shook. “You can’t seriously expect to ‘protect us’ when you can’t even protect yourself. You can’t even provide for this family, let alone protect it.”

“I’m weak now but I won’t always be.”

“You’re going to magically become strong overnight? What are you going to do, pray to the Gods for strength? Don’t you get it? They don’t care about us down here. Mum went to Temple every week but did the Gods do anything to protect her?”

“I’m not going to ask the Gods, I know they’ve abandoned us.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to join the Imperial Guard.”

“The Imperial Guard, that’s how you’re going to protect us?” He laughed with cruel amusement. “You think they’re going to take a runt coward like you? Besides, don’t you have to be sixteen to join?”

“So I’m young, so what? I’ll make them take me.”

“Make them? You couldn’t make-”

“That’s enough!” Shayna cried, rising to her feet. “Stop this, both of you. We’re supposed to be celebrating her life and you’re making a mockery of it.” She stared them both into submission. “This is the first time we’ve been together since…” she lost her gaze for a moment and tried to collect herself. “Argue all you want but wait until the meal is over. You owe her that much.”

They muttered agreements and the family ate without words. Lyra caught Shayna throwing glimpses at their father, hoping that he would give them some kind words of encouragement but he looked to be suffering the most out of all of them. He even looked as though he was eating more out of instinct than conscious desire.

When dinner was over, Cole went outside. Shayna had explained that he’d been doing it since that night. She didn’t say that she feared what he did on those walks or that she knew he came home when everyone was sleeping, bloodied and bruised from doing the Gods knew what. She didn’t have the courage to confront him about it but every night she asked the Gods to return him home safely. They could not handle another death so soon.

“When are you going?” asked Fin.

Lyra was surprised by his tone. She had always thought that the only feelings he and Cole had ever held for her were those rooted in hatred but he seemed honestly concerned by the prospect of her leaving. “Tonight. I don’t want to burden you. I know you haven’t been stealing because you’ve been grieving and I won’t take any of the little food you have.”

He punched her arm. “Idiot.” He ran to help Hayden and his father with the dishes.

“He’s going to miss you,” Shayna explained when she saw the look of confusion on Lyra’s face. “He just can’t tell you that.” She picked up the candle and the extinguished the flame. “We’ll all miss you if you leave.”

“I’ll only make things harder if I stay.” She turned and walked into the bedroom she had shared with her siblings for over a decade.

Shayna followed her. “Is this the only way?”

Lyra grabbed a bag from beneath her bunk and began filling it with the few belongings that she possessed. “If I do this then I can do so much for our family. I can send food and money. I can ease the burden of all of this whilst I’m gone and when I graduate I can work in the slums, catching scummers like…like him. If you need me, I’ll be there to protect you.”

Shayna watched as her sister packed, her mind torn apart by logic and emotion. She should go. She will be happier in a place where she can be herself and she won’t have to carry the guilt of not stealing for us. We’ll benefit from her earnings. We might actually be able to afford enough food, real bedding, and new clothes. It should make everything easier but… “I don’t want you to leave.” It almost sounded like she was pleading and Shayna hated herself for making it sound that way but the desperation in her was more than she could handle. She loved Lyra in a way she could never love her brothers and to see her about to leave was ripping her soul to pieces. “I don’t want to lose anyone else. It hurts too much.”

Lyra took her sister in her arms. “I know it hurts. That’s why I’m doing this, so that no one has to leave again.” She returned to her packing.

“But you’re leaving.”

Lyra zipped up her bag and flung it over her shoulder. “I’ll come back,” she promised, “whenever I can.” She kissed Shayna’s forehead. “Take care of everything for me.”

Lyra walked back into the kitchen and hugged her father goodbye. He left her with no words for her journey. Fin just nodded. Cole was nowhere to be found. Hayden clung to her leg as she made to leave and stared up at her with wide, pleading eyes. She stroked a hand through his hair. “I’ll come back soon. Grow big for me ok?”

He nodded as he released her.

Lyra looked back at her sister and saw the streams of tears flowing down her cheeks as she gripped the worn doorframe. “I’ll be home soon.” She readjusted the bag on her shoulder and set out into the night.

[Samchu]

I apologise for the delays on the new chapters. I had finals and then I've been taking care of my brother so I haven't really had time to stop and write. If all goes to plan I will have caught up by New Year's (*fingers crossed*).

[Samchu]

Apologies again for the delays but life is not always accomodating (sadly). However, now that my routine is finally sorted and I have even been allocated 'scheduled writing time' by my lovely lecturers, things should get back on track.

Before this chapter begins I want to say, yes I know it's an awful chapter but I'm really not sure what I want to do with it. So please please please, if anyone out there has ANYTHING to say about this (good or bad), please leave some feedback.

Thank you!

Chapter 3

Lyra’s hands shook as she walked through the lower circle but she kept her walk steady. Every bump or crash made her heart leap against her chest but she resisted the urge to run home. The slums had always held horrors in its shadows, even before…she bit her lip to drive back the memory. She didn’t need to remember that night, just the things it had taken from her. Her hand found the stolen necklace in her pocket and she stroked the cool metal with her fingertips. I will become strong for her memory.



She reached the wall that divided her city. There were no slums here, just the outposts for those who patrolled the slums and the men who guarded the gate to the upper circle. Men in uniform were constantly moving around the nearby streets but none spoke to her. They usually passed kids by unless they caught them doing something. A few of them eyed the bag on Lyra’s shoulder before passing on, most just ignored her. Only the guards at the gate spoke to her but just because their position demanded it.


“Bit late for you to be out isn’t it?”


Lyra had been told that of all the city’s soldiers, gate guards were the worst. They looked down on the other guards because their jobs were safe and uneventful but being soldiers they were still paid the same as everyone else. She hadn’t had any intention of ever dealing with them but of all the soldiers in the lower circle, they were the ones most likely to tell her what she needed to know.


“Where’s the recruitment post?”


They laughed at her.


Lyra stood firm, her hand tightening around the necklace in her pocket. They’re laughing because I’m small and weak but I’ll show them, I’ll show all them. Everyone who laughs, I’ll show them.


“Everything ok here?”


Lyra looked up to see the chin of the man standing behind her. She stepped to the side to better look at him. He was a giant of man with a jaw like carved rock and dark eyes. His uniform was the same as the men who walked all around him but there were two sashes tied around his right arm, halfway between the shoulder and the elbow.


“Commander.” The two men did impressions of wooden beams.


The first man spoke again. “This…uh…citizen says she’s looking for the recruitment post.”


He turned his eyes on her and she found herself copying the guards. “Is this true?”


“Yes Sir.”


His smile took away the tension in her muscles. “I can take care of that.” He put a firm hand on Lyra’s shoulder. “If you’ll follow me.”



At first, Lyra was convinced she had been taken to the wrong place. The man, who had afterwards introduced himself as Commander Straithorn, had taken her to a crumbling shack of a building. It was a lot like the home she had left behind, with its bumpy stone walls and slanted wooden rooftop. There were panels of wood in the windows, covered with holes, and a wooden door that neither went all the way to the top or to the bottom. The Commander eased the door open and nudged the girl inside.


There was only one room in the building. Piles of pale and dusty boxes sat against the walls, their corners sagging as though they were deflating from the effort of waiting. Only the desk was clean but only to the point of being presentable. To Lyra, it looked just like another slum.


“We thought it would be easier if it looked more like what the people were accustomed to,” said Straithorn, catching Lyra’s gaze. Then he laughed. “No. No, truth be told we are simply men and we don’t care for cleaning.” He sat behind the desk and motioned for Lyra to take the remaining seat. She took to it like one who is unsure of her place and he smiled as if he expected it. “This’ll only take a few moments.” He grabbed two sheets of paper from a pile on his desk then push a pen and an inkpot towards Lyra. “Just fill those in and we’ll get you sorted.”


Lyra stared at the items before her. Her hands clenched and opened over the handles of her bag for a few moments before she lowered it onto the ground beside her. She sucked in her lips as she reached for the pen and grabbed its shaft in her fist. She pointed the nib down and pushed it into the inkpot. The entire nib was blue when she retrieved it and the Commander raised an eyebrow as ink dripped onto the top of the page. She looked at the pages again and her hand froze above them.


“You can’t write?”


Lyra shook her head.


“And you can’t read either?”


Her arm was trembling. Blue spots fell all over the paper. “No.”


He helped her put the pen on the table and she pulled her fists into lap.


“Why are you here?”


“I want to join,” she said, biting back the frustration of her own inability. “I want to help people, to protect them.”


She heard his chair creak as he sat back. Every moment of silence added to the tension in her shoulders.


“How old are you?”


She thought about lying. She was too young – much too young to be doing this. But he would know. She could hear in his voice how much he already knew. He hadn’t shouted at her for lacking. His voice had been the same, since the moment he’d found her at the gate. It was the voice of an adult speaking to a child. “I’m eleven.”


“You know you are too young to join us.”


“Yes.”


“So why come?”


“I want to protect people, to-”


“But why?” He didn’t shout but there was a firmness in his voice that made her hold her tongue. “Why do you want to protect people, Lyra?”


Her fists tightened as she thought of them and the speech at her mother’s funeral. “I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to be weak. I don’t want to have to run away, I want to fight!”


“But you want to protect them, these ‘weak people’?”


Lyra lowered her head and stroked her palms with her thumb. “It hurts…losing someone…” She paused to wet her drying lips. “I can’t forgive them…but I would be more terrible if I let them feel this pain when I can stop it.”


Commander Straithorn loosened something from his throat. Lyra looked up at him. "The written test at the start is a lie. We know that of the thousands of people living here, less than a hundred can read or write. But, by putting them through this we force them to feel vulnerable and they tell us why they really want to be here. It is much easier to get the measure of a man – or woman – when they are honest.”


“I don’t understand.”


He leaned towards her across the table. “Everything you just told me was truth, honesty from the heart. From your words I know more about you than I could learn from a hundred papers. These,” he grabbed the sheets from in front of her and waved them, “to a man who can use them they are a shield. Men see the empty boxes and the unfilled lines and they fill it with what they think it should be filled with and create this person that they think we want. It is not them, it is a machine. This…'thing' that does not think nor feel. It is not human. It is ugly and foul and disgusting.”


“I still don’t understand.”


The scowl on his face loosened into the smile she was more familiar with and he waved a dismissive hand. “The curse of too many long nights spent shouting at incompetent idiots. The point is, my dear, you have passed the first test.”


Lyra frowned. This was a test? “I thought I was too young.”


“Age is just a number. I am willing to continue with your application if you are willing to take the second and final test.”


She was unsure of everything. But the one thing she knew, without a shadow of uncertainty, was that there was no going back. “I’ll do it.”



The night hung heavy under the weight of a coming storm. Grey touched the edges of the buildings, sucking whatever life they held into the shadows they created. Lyra and the Commander walked the ghost-like streets side-by-side. She tried to copy the ever-ready look of awareness in his gaze but determination and youth cannot always match age and experience.


Every muscle in her body was tense. She needed to prove herself, to show that she could see this place from the eyes of a guard and not a civilian. But she was struggling. Whatever remnants of that night she had managed to destroy, too many still sat with her. She faltered at every unexpected sound and hung back further than she should; when the Commander took her to the sight of a drunken bar brawl she almost couldn’t make it and had to force her legs down the street just to watch him tap them on the shoulders and send them on their way.


Soon the night was fading. She was running out of chances and already she could see the look of disappointment in his eyes. It hurt, more so than when she had seen it in the eyes of her parents or her siblings. It made her want to cry out, to tell him everything that she had seen, to give a reason for the weakness, but she didn’t. As painful as it was to see that look, it would be worse if he were to pity her. She was done with pity. She had promised to do this herself and she would. Just one more chance. Give me that and I’ll prove I can do this.


They turned a corner and heard the sounds of fighting; the scratching of feet on the ground, the grunts of connecting blows. They followed the sound and found two shadows hidden behind a pile of rubbish in a side-alley. One figure stood above the other, kicking it in the ribs. The victim was whimpering and begging for release but the attacker said nothing.


Straithorn began to move before Lyra could finish her silent prayer of thanks to the Gods. He had a silent grace that Lyra wouldn’t have expected for a man of his stature. She was sure he had the wordless attacker in his grasp but the shadow ducked at the last moment and sprinted down the alley. Something exploded inside Lyra legs and without a word from Straithorn, she followed him.


He took her down alleyway after alleyway, avoiding the main roads and favouring those narrow paths that possessed the most obstacles. She could tell he didn’t know the paths he was taking because every obstacle he put between them was one she had already seen him doubt with and so she jumped or side-stepped them with as much ease as the faint moonlight would allow. She knew he was faster. Had he stuck to the roads he would have lost her but in the alleyways she was gaining on him. For the first time in the chase she wondered what she would do if she caught him and realised that she had no idea.


The shadow cut across one of the main streets and the light caught him. Lyra tried to remember everything she could about him for when the Commander asked her later. Blonde hair…brown rags… She continued the list in her mind but it caused her to stumble over a cracked cartwheel. Somewhere between falling and getting up she lost ‘bare-footed’.


They continued to run until she thought her legs would no longer carry her. The boy she chased was faltering; she could see his figure much clearer than she could when they started. Or had dawn come early to witness the display?


She saw him cast a look over his shoulder and he tumbled. Lyra pushed her legs, promising them a long rest if they would obey, and advanced on him. He was just starting to get to his knees so she jumped, using the force of her body to pin his to the ground. She knew he was probably stronger but if she could get a look at his face then she would have something to take back to Straithorn.


He was thrashing underneath her, though his attempt did little more than cause her to bounce atop his stomach. She waited. He would calm down and she would see his face or the Commander would join them and arrest the boy properly. Either way, Lyra couldn’t fail.


Exhausted, the boy let his body sink to the floor. “Will ya get off me?” he growled.


His eyes were closed and the growl in his voice was one she didn’t recognise but she knew his face. “Cole?”


He opened his eyes. There was surprise in them but it quickly turned to the anger that she better knew. “What in the Gods’ names are you chasing me for?”


For the first time in her life, Lyra didn’t feel frightened by her brother. She straightened her back and hardened her gaze to prove it to him. “Why were you fighting?”


“Kid owed me money.”


“You’re lying.”


“Who cares if I’m lying?”


“I do.”


“You care?” He laughed. “You think you give a shit in a bucket what any of us do? You’re selfish. You only ever cared about what you wanted and the rest of us just had to deal with it. So why do you care?” He sneered at her. “You’re not even a part of this family.”


She punched him so hard that she could feel the bone in his nose crack. She watched the blood trickle down to his lip.


“Feel better?”


Lyra refused to admit that she did.


“You gonna let me up?”


She found herself unable to look at him. “No, Cole.”


“So you’re gonna turn me in? Gonna put me in prison on the night of her funeral?”


She had to fight to keep her voice from quivering. “That’s right.”


Cole snorted. “Failure. Let her die and get me arrested. Some ‘protector’ you are.”


“I-”


“Lyra!” She looked up and saw the Commander running towards her. His face was flushed from running and there was sweat smothering his forehead and cheeks. He gave a panting sigh before he spoke again. “You took off so fast I almost thought I’d never be able to keep up.” He pierced his lips, releasing something that sounded like it could have been halfway between a whistle and a sigh. “But I see you caught our troublemaker.” He approached them and Lyra slid from Cole’s stomach so that the Commander could jerk the boy to his feet with a strong hand. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”


Lyra bit her lip as she looked between the two. Part of her wanted to help Cole escape but she knew that if she did then she would never be able to join the Guards. What would she do then? She had set herself on this path and she could see no others. If she acted now she would be forced to sink back into that failed existence.

I can’t go back…I can’t-


“I’m going to take him to the command post. If you head back to the recruitment hut then I’ll come and meet you once I’ve finished with him.” He readjusted his grip on Cole’s shoulder. “You can find your way back there ok?”


Lyra nodded. Her tongue felt like it had swollen in her mouth. She could only watch them leave in dumb silence, rocks dropping from her lungs into her stomach. She thought of her sister and the look on her face when she had left home earlier that evening, and for the first time she doubted that she had made the right decision.

What have I done?