Sisters The Beginning, Chapter One

Preface


They were always close.  Even in the womb they seemed inseparable.  The smaller cradling the larger.....

Their birth was a hard one.  The children were so large. 

"A son, a grand son to make Zuberi proud.  Then they will grovel.  I will have given birth to the next king. " Masha thought as the pain from the most recent contraction subsided.  She smiled despite her pain.

"Push harder; it will not be much longer now." Ilia, feared the outcome of this birth as did the rest of the slaves, but there was no help for them now.  She knew as well as the others that there was more than one child to be born this evening.  Please let these be male children.  The mistress has condemned us all to death if the master is displeased.  If only she weren't so sure, so smug.  If only she hadn't flaunted her good fortune in carrying the kings child.  Dishonoring our queen.  Queen Yejide had given King Zuberi four strong daughters, but no sons.  After the last birth, she could have no more.

The heat in the birthing room was unbearable.  The stench of her blood and death permeated the air.

The pain was so bad.  "But it will be worth it." Masha thought to herself.  I know the old one was wrong. Daughters indeed. It was right to order her death.

"There is too much blood.  She may die before the children are born."  "May God help us all if these are girl children."  The birthing slaves whispered among themselves, as they worked to stem the flow of blood from Masha's womb.

"Push mistress, please." Ilia's whisper had become urgent now.  It was clear to all around that Masha's end was near.  The screams had become moans throughout the long ordeal.  But now she was only able to whimper.  The bleeding would not stop and still the children had yet to appear.  "I will try to pull the children out.  Perhaps they still live."  Ilia gently placed her hands inside Masha's birth canal. It was tight and slick with blood.  She could feel the children inside, but they were wrapped about each other too tightly, she couldn't get a strong hold.  "Hurry Ilia, Masha is near dead, the children will surely die when she does."  Just a little deeper....inch by painfully slow inch the children were pulled out of their nearly dead mother.  "Just a little more.  I see hair from the head of one child!" Ilia's excitement was palpable.  Even though one and all feared the outcome, a part of them wanted to know, needed to know if these children would live, if they would be male children.  Masha's death scream as the children finally broke free was horrid.  It sent shivers down the spines of all who would hear it that night.  She took one last look at the bloodied mass that were her children, and smiled.  She died in the next moment, eyes transfixed on her children.  She looked so peaceful.

The children were cleaned, and placed on the ceremonial birthing skins to await final approval by Sefu.  He was sometimes thought to be more powerful than their king, because of his powerful magic and his influence.  What Sefu said the king followed. 

They all waited on their knees, with their heads lowered and their hands outspread in complete subjugation.  There were used to this, as Sefu sometime had them wait for many hours until it suited his fancy to appear.  Whoa be onto the slave whose back was not properly straightened, whose hands weren't just so. 

Footsteps sounded from without.  Their wait would not be long this night. 
"He comes." Ilia though.  Please do not let him choose me.  I do not want his notice.  But luck was not with her this night.  The footsteps stopped in front of  where she lay.

"You slave stand and present the children to me." 
Ilia rose and carefully kept her eyes respectfully downward. To look into the eyes of her betters would mean her death.  She brought the children to Sefu.

"Females, I should have known Masha would muck this up." He said more to himself than anyone in particular.  "The King will not be pleased.  Better to let him think they died along with their worthless mother." It was the sharply indrawn breath that was her undoing.  She looked up for just a moment and saw what frightened Sefu so much.  The smaller of the twins had opened her eyes and looked into Sefu's eyes with such intensity that it was frightening.  She seemed to be speaking to him without words.  This was unheard of in one so young.

Ilia quickly brought head back down but it was too late.  Sefu had seen and was not pleased.  In an instant, her body was consumed by flames that she could not see, the pain was too much to bear.  She didn't know when she began screaming, only becoming aware of the lack of sounds when her voice became too raw to scream any longer.  Finally, mercifully it stopped.  Somehow she still held the children safely cradled against her chest. 

"You slaves dispose of  this one as well the children and their mother.  Burn their bodies and throw their ashes to the winds.  May the gods grant them grace in the next life, that they not displease their masters so."  As the chosen slaves rushed to do his bidding, he spoke again.  "It's a pity that the king lost his mistress and children during the birthing."

All about knew that the king would never know the children survived the birthing.  "I have spoken, so shall it be."






Chapter One



Appleton was much like many of the small villages that formed the Northern Territory, its name coming from the type of trees that filled the area.  The story told was that many years ago, longer than most folks remembered firsthand, some fellow thought that he could make his fortune in supplying apples to the entire kingdom.  The fellow spent years in clearing the land and planting the trees.  More years after that growing and nurturing his orchards so that the apples produced were indeed the largest, sweetest, and juiciest in all the land. Trouble was that by the time everything was just so, he was so old that he didn't care anymore.  He had never taken time out to get a wife and have children. In time he died, but those he enticed to come and work for him stayed.  Most of the towns' small population consisted of the laborers and their families that the old man had hired to work in the orchards.

The village was located on the farthest outskirts of the Federal Alliance, which suited most town folk just fine.  It was too far away and too poor to be of notice by those in the larger southern cities.  It was mostly forgotten by the governing bodies of the Federal Alliance, a group of bored nobleman who spent much of their energies and monies squabbling amongst themselves.  Left unprotected by their government they had to depend upon each other for survival, and they were a close knit group.  Like most simple folk things that were not understood were often feared. 

Appleton was smaller than most villages being made up of perhaps twenty families and their children.  Most everyone there was related to someone else.  Because there was no lack of wood in the area, most families lived in single story wooden cottages radiating from the towns center and spreading outward in a widening circle.  Those who lived nearest the towns' center had small family gardens, and small businesses.  While those who lived further out had larger farms or stables of animals that were used for trade.

Being many days travel by horse from the nearest large trading town, there were never many visitors.  And fewer yet who sought to make this small town their home.  But those who chose to live in Appleton were content.  And why wouldn't they be, they had everything that larger towns had, if on a much smaller scale.  There was Simon's black smithy, Tomas' the baker, who claimed to bake the best muffins this side of the Sandyr Mountains.  Of course, since most folks had never been anywhere else, they had to take his word for it.  There was henpecked Jon the butcher and his wife Sara, who most folks agreed was the biggest gossip this side of the Sandyr Mountains, but never said within listening distance.  Last but not least there was the Appleton Inn, and stables.  The inn being the largest structure in the center of town was right off the main and only road.  It boasted four sleeping rooms, and a large common room. 

While the inn was mostly used for celebrations, weddings and such, it was also the main gathering place for village meetings.  And every 4th  Sabbath day good Father Timothy would come to town to give blessings and words of prayer to the people of Appleton.  The Father was their only link to the outside world.  His duty was to ensure that the villagers followed the faith of the Three Gods, and collect taxes in the Kings name.  Since the villagers had no coin to speak of, they offered their taxes in spiced apple ciders, and wines, and preserves that were very popular in the larger southern cities.  Being the only holy man nearby Father Timothy would service the villages of Appleton, Bothwell, and Hamiltowne.  Each village being several days travel from the other by horse, Father Timothy was welcome sight being pulled along by old Bess.  It was always a wonder how that poor old mule managed to haul its load from one village to the next, for Father Timothy was not a small man.  But she was always there when she was due.  The Father enjoyed a good meal, and there was never a shortage of offers to dine with to families of his parishioners.  The wagon was small but sturdy, and used to carry the food stuffs that the villagers offered as taxes.  The 4th week of every month Father Timothy would meet with the king's representative, who came to his cottage three days travel south to collect taxes, and news about the state of things in this small province.

Most everything in the village was bartered for on Barter day.  On Sabbath day after Father Timothy spoke the townsfolk brought in their goods, to trade with each other.  Those who had cows would trade their butter, cream, and cheeses.  Old man Denni, who was fortunate enough to have several large Mulberry bushes growing on his land, brought wine and cider.  Those who had chickens brought eggs.  Some weaved cloth.  And so forth.  Anything worth trading was brought to the inn on Barter day.  The villagers loved Barter day.  Everyone brought in a dish to share with the others.  There were games to be played and everyone seemed in lighter spirits. 

...............

The sun was high overhead and beat its rays down mercilessly on those who were unfortunate enough to be outside at this time of the day.  The small cottage lay quite some distance from the main village.  Though the family lived near Appleton these past thirteen summers, they were still considered outsiders.  It was not just the darker color of their skin that set them apart, but the slant of their eyes and the texture of their hair.  They were tolerated well enough, though they never really felt accepted.  It was little things like the lack of invitations to sup or celebrate.  And the quiet conversations that stopped when they were near.  The townsfolk both feared and welcomed the strangers.  They were uncommonly blessed most thought, with the largest, most delectable vegetables in the area.  That they brought their bounty to town at the end of each growing season and shared with any and all, only served to raise the suspicions of some.  The old woman was thought to be blessed by the Gods for it was said that those who were ill could be cured by her prayers.  Still, if she were truly blessed she wouldn't look as she did.  For those who were misfortunate enough to see her face uncovered, it was frightening indeed....

Taking a break in her gardening, the old crone painfully stood up, straightening her back, and adjusting her clothing in an effort to capture just a little bit of the light breeze that was passing through at that moment.  Though it was dreadfully hot outside she was covered from head to toe.  Only her hands showed and there the skin was thin and scarred.  There were nubs were fingers should have been.  The laughter of her children in the distance brought a smile to her face.  She was too far away to hear their words, but she knew that they would share their story when they came in from their play.

On Barter day the family usually brought eggs from the many chickens they tended.  When the vegetables were ripe they brought in fresh cabbage, beans, and turnips.  Gra'Ilia discovered a way to weave a thick cloth from the reeds that grew in the marsh not far from the cottage and traded for that as well. Barter day was still a full seven days away, and there was much to be done, but the girls were sent off to play and be children while they still could.  Many girls in the village got married before their fifteenth summer. 

Though twins, the girls were as dissimilar as two sisters could be.  Maman was small and slight and looked as if a strong breeze could knock her over.  She was too small for a girl nearly fourteen summers old.  Her body had not yet begun the change from child to woman.  Jamina, on the other hand, dwarfed her "older sister".  Younger by mere seconds, Jamina, was more than a foot taller.  Tall and strong she was also exceptionally agile.  She had become quite proficient with a sling and stone, using it to ward off the occasional wild dog or boar who ventured too close to the cottage.  She had started to practice throwing home crafted spears, and had become very accurate.  Her body had begun to change and she hated it.  She'd taken to binding her breasts down tightly with strips of cloth to "Keep them out of her way." As she was fond of saying to her sister several times a day.

"You did it, you did it!"  Jamina clapped her hands together with glee.
"We did it, you mean."  Maman corrected.  Her name meant little mother in their language, and that's just the way she acted.  "The healing didn't work until you gave me your prayers.  I'm always stronger with your help."
"Fine, fine.  We did it.  Do you think he will be able to fly again soon?"

Both girls dropped down to their knees to have a closer look at the injured bird's wing.  It looked as if it had had a run in with a hawk.  It was alive but barely breathing, and its right wing had been open to the bone in spots.  Now, it looked much better.  Skin and flesh now covered bone, and feathers had already begun to sprout in the bare spots.  The sparrow opened its eyes, but it just lay there.  It did not attempt to fly away.  It was too weak yet.

"He looks scared Maman.  Tell him we won't hurt him.  Tell him he needs to rest."

"I'll try, but I'm so tired now."  She closed her eyes and pictured the sparrow in her mind's eye.  She tried to send soothing thoughts of rest and trust to the ailing bird.  Just a little longer and you should be well enough to go it alone.  If she concentrated with all of her might she could almost see the muscles as they knitted themselves together.  The blood as it flowed through the birds damaged wing.  The feathers as they lengthened and grew.  "He's almost perfect now," she thought. 

Wearily she opened her eyes.  The sparrow hopped to its feet and had begun to spread its wings and ruffle its feathers.  It took a quick hop and began flapping it wings.  It circled once and flew off towards the nearest tree.


Jamina jumped up hands on her hips in frustration as she watched the small bird fly away.  "Well that's just fine. Not a thank you squawk or a goodbye."

"Isn't it enough to know that we helped in some small way?"  Maman swayed slightly and dropped to the ground.  "I think I'd better rest.  It's always hardest when there is flesh to be mended." 

"Here sister, you rest in the shade of this old elm while I find some fresh berries.  You must regain your strength before we go home or we'll never hear the end of it." Jamina rushed off into the woods, while Maman lay back to rest. 

It was the sounds of fighting that woke her with a start. Jamina!  Her mind screamed in anxious thought.  The bullies! For as long as she could remember, the towns' boys found issue with her family, Jamina in particular.

I hope I'm not too late.  Maman ran towards the sounds of the struggle. She didn't have far to go.  Two of the towns' boys had Jamina's arms pinned behind her back, while another attacked from the front. Sweet mulberries lay scattered and smashed on the ground around them.

"That'll teach you to respect your betters!" he said as he punched Jamina in the stomach.  Unfortunately for him, this also brought him close enough for her land a swift kick in his midsection. This brought him forward into the next kick which connected with his head.  He fell back and was slow in getting up. 

"Hold her I said!" His eyes had murder in them as he advanced on Jamina.

"Leave my sister alone!" Maman was so angry she trembled as she walked into the small clearing.  All signs of fatigue were gone as she quickly came forward to help her sister.

The air around them seemed to change.  All of the forest sounds were gone as a strong breeze ripped through the trees and past the fighting children.  The boys fell to the ground as one, clutching their stomachs as blood streamed from their  mouths and noses. 

"What has my sister done this time, Nigel? Best you in running or climbing or some such! I have asked you time and again to leave her be." Jamina stared in horror at the sight her sister presented.  Her eyes seemed glazed over and her skin fairly glowed with a reddish gold light.

Though their mouths tried to form words, the boys were unable to speak. They squirmed on the ground in an effort to get away, but it was useless.

There was a look of madness in her sister's eyes that Jamina had never seen before.  "Maman stop!  You're killing them.  Please...." She grabbed her and began to shake her. "Look at me.  Calm down.  I'm fine."  She was screaming at this point, but it didn't seem to matter.

In moments the madness passed.  Maman looked at the damage she had wrought in horror.  "Oh no. What have I done?"  She promptly fainted into her sisters arms.

......................

The boys were finally able to get up and stumble towards town.  Jamina watched them leave and knew trouble would be soon in coming.  The townsfolk were very superstitious.  They wouldn't understand.  They certainly wouldn't listen to reason.

"I have to get home." She thought, as she pulled her smaller sister close to the chest and began the short walk home.