When I created the land of Sonoduhl for my first novel, I only used a small portion of it. For my second novel, then, I decided to write a story that takes place in a different area with mostly new characters. Here’s a sneak peek to tide you over until the publication date is set:
The Child
Aged headmaster Korro stood in the bell tower and watched the sun sink below the distant trees. His duties at the boarding school were demanding, but he reserved these moments every day for himself. A human might find the sight calming or perhaps inspirational, but he merely found the kaleidoscopic interplay of colors entertaining. He watched the dawn as well, symmetrical bookends to his daily responsibilities.
His evening ritual complete, Korro descended the winding steps to the nurse’s station. Nodding to the nurse on duty, he strode down the hallway past the common room where assorted pre-teens were reading or quietly playing card games. He took another set of stairs to the second floor, home to the younger children. They were quietly preparing for bed or working on their homework in silence.
On the ground floor he proceeded through the double doors into the candle-lit kinderpatch. Row upon row of cradles bore their people’s infant population. In the half-light he could see that many had already drifted off to sleep. The remainder amused themselves in various ways–babbling to their cloth dolls, exploring their feet, or simply staring at him. One baby near the corner stiffened, its legs thrust straight up, and a roving attendant moved to retrieve the child and change its diaper.
The headmaster was pleased with the efficiency of it all.
He gave a brief nod to the senior attendant and turned for the door, thinking ahead to his warm bed and a good book, when a shriek tore through the night. He spun quickly, searching the room for the source of the disturbing sound. One of the infants was seated in her crib, her face red, her eyes leaking, as wave after wave of excruciating noise burst forth from her twisted mouth. The attendants froze where they stood, surprised and confused by the strange sounds and bizarre behavior.
The headmaster paused, the scenario sparking a vague memory from long ago. Turning, he strode across the room to the reference bookshelf containing the child-rearing library. Almost hidden at the end of the shelf was a battered book, small and crudely bound, unlike the pristine volumes. He took it down and scanned the contents, quickly finding the relevant section. Returning to the child’s cradle, he reached out a tentative hand to the infant’s back and rubbed in a clumsy circular motion. The more he rubbed, the quieter the noise, until finally the infant’s eyes slid closed and she slumped, asleep.
Shaken but recovering, the headmaster reached for the naming card attached to her crib. “Dina,” he murmured to himself.
The senior attendant came forward, shock and confusion evident on his face. “Headmaster Korro, I’ve been tending infants here for 20 summers. I have never seen a child do that before!”
The headmaster nodded absently, his attention fixed on the last item written in the tome he still clutched. Five simple words that would change the quiet, regimented life of his people.
Fetch the Mystic at once.
#
In a house far to the south a midwife glanced at her helper, both anxious that the birth was taking so long. The poor woman on the bed was drenched in sweat, exhausted by her day-long exertions. The expectant mother’s hands clenched as yet another wave of contractions hit. She screamed in pain and exhaustion as she pushed. The midwife, a measure of relief sketched across her face, could finally see the child’s head crowning.
“Just one more push, Highness. I can see the head.”
Digging deep for some last vestige of strength, the highborn woman pushed with an inhuman yowl and the child burst forth, sliding into the midwife’s awaiting arms. Beaming, she and her helper wiped the blood from the mewling infant’s form. “It’s a boy, Highness!”
Looking up, her smile vanished. The empress lay unmoving, blood drained from her fair face. Thrusting the child into the helper’s arms, she rushed to the woman’s side.
Listened in vain for breath. Chafed arms and legs. Slapped the damp unmoving face.
Stood by, crushed and despairing, as she stared at the dead woman.
The baby’s cries filled the room as if he’d realized his loss.
Behind the midwife a door opened, and her heart sank further. “You have a son, my Ji.”
“A son! How wonder…”
He paused, taking in the scene. The baby, crying in the helper’s arms. The dead woman, lying on the bed. Blood everywhere. The midwife could see the terror on her helper’s face, but her own heart had gone beyond terror to a kind of resigned sadness. “I’m sorry, my Ji. Your wife did not survive the birth. We did everything we could, but it was too much for her.”
A coldness descended over his face as he regarded the midwife. He reached out his arms, and the helper rushed to give him the swaddled child. Struggling with his emotions, he addressed his son.
“I name you Haman and welcome you into this world. I bequeath to you my father’s legacy. May you restore what we have lost and rule in peace one day.”
Looking up, he regarded the midwife and helper with a frightening intensity. The helper whimpered, but the midwife could only mouth a silent prayer to the gods for their souls.
Cradling the child in one hand, the man swept out his long sword with the other.
