Child of Nyuvreth- Chapter 8

ENURIN


Enurin appeared calm and composed as she stood amongst the sea of people as they all awaited for the Festival of Selection to begin. Myrda stood next to her, dressed in a faded blue dress, with both of her hands clasped tightly together as she beamed in unconcealed anticipation. Enurin's eyes flitted left and right: all the noble families and their bodyguards were always at the forefront of the crowd, whilst those from the middle to lower classes were designated a spot further away from all the excitement.

Enurin's lips curled into a tiny smirk. The nobles were decked in all of their finery and regalia, wearing the latest fashions of the Eyrothian court. The noblewomen were decorated entirely in jewels and various precious stones, which gleamed so brilliantly it could outshine the sun itself. While their bodyguards towered over them, their hands always within reach of the weapons in their sword-belts; prepared to deal with any threat against their sworn lord. But that detail did not bother Enurin as much as it would others. Despite all of their efforts, Enurin was well aware that they could not detect her or her powers. With those burly barrels of muscle out of the way, the nobles would prove easy pickings for her and her 'hands'. By the end of the day, she'll be hauling chestfuls of bounty back to her hideout; she was certain of it.

The blaring of trumpets from the heralds signified the beginning of the Festival of Selection. Immediately, the chatter of excitement increased in volume as the crowd glimpsed the procession of candidates. Everyone wondered who will be the next Chosen, who will finally lead them from the interminable gloom of the past century and into the light. Most were optimistic that this year, things will definitely change for the better.

There were twelve candidates in all, ranging from the tender age of eight to that of the mid-twenties. They were all dressed in fine black robes with the youngest leading the procession towards the Red Fountain, where they would all drink from it to ascertain if any of them would inherit powers as great as that of Luthor the Mighty. The four Elders of Eyroth were at the back of the procession.

The Elder Galvor -with his signature bright crimson hair that went past his shoulders to end at his waist- was known for his immense knowledge in the arcane arts. The Elders Yunae, Okra and Melkor followed after. Yunae was and still is a gifted warrior; Okra and her bottomless pit of wisdom regarding the handling of government; Melkor and his extreme abilities of healing and restoration. All four of these striking characters were to tutor the Chosen. If there would even be one this year, Enurin thought snidely. She settled her gaze on every one of the spectators and -to her immense satisfaction- found them sufficiently distracted. It was time to begin.

Enurin shut her eyes closed and tried to focus; blocking out everything and anything that might attempt to distract her. She allowed herself a small smile as she felt the familiar thrum of power flowing through her fingertips. Without any delay, she lifted her right foot and lightly tapped the ground beneath her.

In an instant, hundreds of her 'hands' manifested and rose up from the ground, quickly picking their targets. She didn't need her eyes to see, for her beloved 'hands' were a direct extension of her; she could control as well as feel whatever it was they felt. She was able to discern the soft touch of numerous velvet pouches nearly overflowing with coins; the delightfully familiar smooth ridges of exceptionally cut jewels.

Enurin's smirk grew wider as she felt the satchel by her feet growing steadily heavier as more stolen treasures piled up into it. Once she felt that it was enough, Enurin tapped her right foot again. She sensed the power slowly recede and her hands disappeared to whence they came. Enurin breathed out a happy sigh and lifted her now bulky satchel to hang upon her shoulder. She was undoubtedly pleased with herself, and intended to buy some of those scrumptious -yet pricey- apple tarts in the street market. Perhaps I could buy some for Myrda as well.

Enurin was about to turn around and return home when something caught her eye. She did not know why, but her eyes could not turn away from the magnificent allure of the diamond clasped around the Elder Okra's elegant neck. Despite her age, the Elder Okra was still a devastatingly handsome woman with her thick, light chocolate hair and bewitching black eyes. Her dark skin was flawless beneath the harsh glare of the Eastern sun, and her slender figure was the envy of the entire female population of Eyroth. Yet the diamond seemed to outshine the beautiful lady herself, causing greed and her vulnerability to pretty things to consume Enurin. She absolutely must have it.

Whatever tiny glimmer of self-doubt regarding the impossibility of obtaining said object was diminished entirely by her desire to possess it. She completely ignored the inner battle going on within her, refusing to listen to the more cautious and logical side of herself. Enurin's greed always overtook her and so she dropped her satchel, causing it to emit a loud clang as it made contact with the dusty ground. She didn't need it anymore. If she was able to obtain the beauty clinging to Okra's neck, then she would be set up for life -this she was sure of.

Putting caution to the wind, Enurin summoned her powers again. The glint in her eyes nearly shining with the same intensity as the diamond as she thought what she'd do once she had it in her grasp. Her 'hands' barely slithered out of the ground when she saw the Elder Galvor cease walking- his body tense. Okra and the others noticed this and stopped as well; Yunae's harsh and brusque tone angrily demanding what the problem was.

Enurin's blood ran cold with fear when Galvor slowly turned his head, as his eyes -stormy grey and emotionless- focused their gaze directly on hers. Enurin turned and ran.