Coruld: Chapter 1: The Trial
The sun gradually began rising behind the slums of Dumovin. It was still dark inside the Stoned Inn. Sylar, the cook, woke up slowly from laying on a down blanket in from of the fireplace. He stoked the hot coals the put some wood in. When he was satisfied that the fire would stay lit, he went into the kitchen to start working.
A look around the disgraceful looking kitchen turned Sylar's face red in anger. Shana was the prettiest of the wenches but never cleaned the way she was supposed to. Dishes, when washed, were only half clean. The floor wasn't swept and nothing was put ever away. Even though she made the most upstairs, she wouldn't last long without keeping up on her share of the chores. She would be beaten hard tonight, no one will be able to have her for a while.
Leftover stew sat ready on the stove, stinking of almost rotten meat and vegetables in the big, burnt-brown pot. Sylar's stomach growled, but before he could eat, he had to wake up the rest of the staff for morning chores. He started with the kitchen boy. "Runi!" Sylar bellowed toward a small cupboard near the rear door. He pounded on it softly so not to disturb those sleeping upstairs, but hard enough to rattle the shelves around the area. "Runi, wake up. Morning chores need takin' care of!"
The cupboard door opened slowly and a pair of small thin legs poked out. Runi's long ears, covered by his scruffy hair popped out next; his big green eyes half open. "Get a move on boy. Wood won't bring itself in." Sylar said then grumbled out into the tavern area to wake up the others for their share of the chores. Shana will be the last down, and probably the sorest when Sylar caught her alone.
Runi's small stomach was still not used to waiting as long as Sylar's. He had to find something to tied him over while he worked. He decided on a chunk of stale bread a customer left on his plate. Still a little soggy from stew and saliva, it was much easier to chew.
Runi quickly put the small piece in his mouth so as to not get hit for disobeying and ran out to the wood pile. Because he was so small, he couldn't carry as much as the older boys so would often cause the rest of the workers to miss a meal (no one could eat till all chores were done). This gave reason for many fights. After being gypped by an old peddler selling pots, the owner of the Inn took the peddler's cart and destroyed it. Parts of the cart were still intact so when Runi had time away (what little there was) he made up a smaller version of it; big enough to carry more wood than his arms and could still be pushed and pulled easily.
Runi had always been an inventor, though it was against the True Ways. Only women were to be inventors, just as only men could be builders. Priests could hold both but only because there were so few that were able to join as is, without eliminating half of them because of gender. Runi attempted not to think of ideas. He tried to be true to the Way as he was taught, but his mind wouldn't sway. He blamed his ears; each pointed and long, not as an ear should be. They could only be hidden by keeping his hair shabby. He didn't know why he had them; he only knew they made him bad.
He thought of this as he stacked the wood into his little cart and pulled it towards the Inn and remembered what happened a few years ago. Runi was five and didn't know he was any different than other kids but often they would run away from him. One day, they threw stones and sticks at him, Saying his ears made him "unclean' and 'impure". He tried cutting off the pointed tips but his mother caught him. She threw away the blade and held him close. As he cried in her arms, she explained that he wasn't bad, he was different. Different makes one special. For the longest time he believed that and it made him happy. Three years later, his mother was taken by the Priests to never be seen again. With his father dead, Runi was alone and starving by the time he found the Inn. Sylar brought him before the Inn master who put him to work. Runi never forgot that day. How could he, with only two years to have gone by? Runi pulled the cart up to the door and began stacking wood in the crate just inside, thinking about his birthday closing in. Ten years old, the Trial-men would soon be upon him.
"I hear yer tenth is a-comin' kid." an unfamiliar voice called from behind, it sent chills up and down Runi's spine. He turned to see an old man, one of the sleepers still filled with ale from last night. This one wasn't a stranger really, he had often tried to corner Runi in empty rooms to fulfill his "appetite" so Sylar usually stayed nearby; this time, Sylar was nowhere in sight or sound. " 's too bad freak, I think I'll miss you." The man stepped toward Runi fairly quickly, forcing Runi to back against the wall. "Pretty little boy, pretty little freak. Be a good boy." Foul breath poured out of his mouth, making Runi gasp for air. He ran his hand over Runi's hair, then through it. "No one can hear you." He smiled a sick smile as he started unbuckling his belt. Runi tried to shake away but a hand held him firmly in place. His eyes bulged, flashing dark then light green and the man smiled, leaning closer.
A large hand grabbed the man's shoulder and yanked him back, flinging him toward the door to the tavern. "You know you aren't allowed back here." Sylar's bellowing voice was like a chorus of angels to Runi at that moment. "Breakfast will be served in your room as always." The man looked from Sylar to Runi and back, ready to fight but Sylar's large build gave the illusion of twice the muscles he actually had. Enough so that even an ignorant drunk could see.
"Have the freak send it up." Runi flinched at that too familiar word. This drunk is getting daring. Soon he won't leave so easily.
"It will be brought by who's available." Sylar puffed his chest to discourage the fight forming in the man's eyes. Only a grumble came from him after that, then he left to pass out in his room. Sylar looked back at Runi and sighed. "I can't always be here boy. Someday, you'll have to learn to fight for yourself. Until then, stay clear and heat up the stew for breakfast." He then left to make sure Shana and the others were doing as they were told and no one was bothering them as well.
Runi worked quickly, his mind drifting with the clouds. He began thinking of his birthday, landing on the day of the Trial. Only those whose tenth birthday was ten days or more after the Trial could escape it for another year and none could fake a birthday, for they're all on record with the chronicler of High Priests.
Saying the Trial is close at hand I only too true; it's tomorrow. Runi wanted to run and hide but those who weren't present were hunted down and often killed. He knew this well since he had witnessed a young girl hide. The Trial men's militia pulled her out of her home, then her and her parents were tied together on a stake and burned alive. If that fate is more favorable than Coruld, Runi wasn't sure. Neither sounded inviting but the fires less so, Runi wasn't ready to die. He decided he would talk to Sylar. He seemed to be the only one who cared for him. When others would fight him, Sylar was there to put cold meat where it hurt.
The sun began to lower behind the other half of the small city. The Stoned Inn sat in the middle of town where the sun never filled the windows, but the warmth could still seep through to the customers inside. Runi looked toward the reddened sky as he gathered water from the well in front. He looked across to the Seamstress Shop. He watched the owners and their daughter working together on a skirt for one of the richer ladies of the town. He wondered what his family might've done for tomorrow.
"Hey, daydreamer." Runi looked back at one of the younger workers calling from the door of the Inn. "We can't hold the customer's thirst forever." Runi filled his cart then wheeled it inside quickly. He filled empty mugs then ran into the kitchen. There he saw Sylar leaning against a table, watching Shana diligently, making sure she did her chores correctly this time. She worked slow as her rebellion to not earning her gold with the other girls but Sylar never relented.
Runi slowly walked up to him, watching his glassy, unreadable eyes incase they suddenly became angry. If they did, Runi would stay away and finish undone chores for the rest of the night. "Sylar, sir," Runi spoke slowly so as not to stutter. Sylar looked down, his expression unchanging. "Tomorrow is my tenth birthday, sir, along with the Trial. I'm scared."
Shana ignored him and continued working. Sylar raised an eyebrow, making his faintly wrinkled forehead more so. "I'm aware of that Runi." Runi shifted his weight to the other leg than back, not looking up now. "It can't be changed Runi. There's no choice. I hope you become better for it." At this Runi searched Sylar's eyes. He never realized how old they looked, nor how concerned he was. Runi stared off for a moment trying to compose himself. A couple tears found their way out. Sylar handed Runi a small bowl of stew and a piece of bread then left to check on guest's happiness. With her chance to escape, Shana walked out quickly, leaving Runi alone.
He tried eating the bread but every time he put it to his lips, his stomach turned inside, making him sick. He sniffed back a runny nose and poured the stew back into the big pot. He kept the bread in case his stomach settled in the night and he climbed into his small cupboard. He knew their were still chores but he felt he deserved a full nights sleep before tomorrow. He laid down upon his blanket on straw, his head on a bag of flour; the last time he would sleep here. He may not be able to avoid it, but maybe they can finally purify him.
* * * * *
The town square was filled with children and their families, and no one else; none could face the priests in their ceremonial Trial robes. The dark crimson with white lining hung loosely on each priest, giving a sexless appearance to them. Their faces were covered with masks resembling the higher god, Thoyou. Reddish-tan with blue eyes and on his left cheek, a mark like a tattoo of shaded curved lines running from his cheek bone to just below the end of his eye. His body is often shown somewhat thin and wearing a priest robe.
Five priests stood in a row unmoving. One could scarcely see them breathing. Eight children stood facing them ten paces away. Their small, naked bodies trembled in the crisp spring air. Runi stood third from the right, he would be one of the last. On top of the church, the bell tolled noon. Three of the priests walked toward the first child; the other two stayed behind, one to call out names and how they were judged. The other stood ready with a quill and parchment to write down names and results to forever be on record.
"Hakee of the Mill Clan!" Called the first priest. The second began writing. Of the three priests inspecting the children, the taller one in the middle grabbed the boy's arms and held them out to the sides. The priest on the right ran his (her?) hands slowly over every inch of Hakee's body. He quivered as the hands moved but it was over quickly. The third priest gave Hakee a blanket then questioned him on the True Ways. The questions themselves were easy but the tension brought on by the priests paralyzed mouths.
The priest giving the questions looked back at the two and gave an unseen gesture. The first priest shouted the answer. "He is pure!" Hakee's parents ran over to him and scooped him into their arms. "Casey of the Tanner Clan!" came the next name. Each clan that of the business your family belongs in. There weren't too many in this town. The next four people went by fast, too fast for Runi. "Runi of the Inn clan!"
Runi heard his name and froze in panic. He felt the cold hands of one priest grab his arms and the even colder hands of the other priest checking him over. The check seemed to last longer than it looked. The priest started at the bottom, running hands over Runi's feet than legs and passing up to the belly and back. He (she?) nodded now and then, the only movement close to an expression. Runi settled a bit, almost forgot his ears until the priest pulled back his hair. The priest jumped, startled, then felt them carefully.
He (she?) stood up and looked back at the two priests. "He is condemned!" Shouted the priest. Runi felt his lungs close. There were people moving about, some yelling as guards held them. One being Sylar. The sounds of the town, the animals and shops rang in his ears like giant bells. The priest holding Runi tightened his grip to prevent him from running. Two militia men came up to them. One took the place of the priest, the other forced a flour sack with holes cut over Runi's head to now be his only clothing and tied his hands behind his back.
"Wait!" Runi shouted, not actually knowing what he was saying. All sounds and people stopped to see what was happening. "I wasn't asked any questions." The priest turned and stared at Runi, the eyes of the mask burning into his soul. "I have studied the Ways and memorized the laws of the city. I've never brought trouble to the elders, I deserve my questions."
Runi could feel himself hunching over in fear. He straightened as the priest re-approached him. He looked into the eyes of the mask and did not flinch. He didn't want to cower now, not after catching the attentions of everyone present. He expected the priest to turn back but instead, asked one question. "What is the third Law of Self?" Runi's eyes widened and his mouth dropped; his ears. His hands reached up and rubbed the scars where he tried to remove the points.
"_ Harm not those equal to thou, nor thou self from thine own hands. _" Runi looked down in shame. The priest walked away, his boots echoing on the otherwise quiet rocks of the square. Tears filled Runi's eyes and spilled over to roll down his cheeks. The militia men took Runi away, gently, to his surprise. He looked back at Sylar, still held back by another guard. He looked genuinely fearful for Runi. No one would look at him.