Chapter One of Firethorn

Firethorn stood before me glimmering in the evening light. Its wall's shone, like a mirror with a light upon them, but I could see no source of the glow it seemed to come from within the walls itself. I shivered, in my short life I had seen little out of the ordinary and this magical sight scared me more than words could say. I was filled with an incredible longing to turn around and walk away but it had taken four days of travel and three weeks of wages to get here and I would not be persuaded to leave so easily. Behind me another young boy from my village, hopeful that he would be chosen, whistled in amazement. The gesture seemed wrong somehow, I felt that the mighty magic that sat before us deserved more than an action that might be directed at an act of everyday wonderment like the fireworks I had seen last year in the city.

"Well then Clara, you coming or not!" He strode confidently ahead of me down the path towards the large manor house as if without fear but when I didn't move his step faltered for a second. He recovered though and carried on, calling out some remark or other about my cowardice. I didn't care my feet still were not quite ready to walk any closer, the carriage had dropped us at the front entrance to the house. It stood unguarded by any gate or wall marked by a small path that diverged from the main road. After all, I supposed, what need had they to guard themselves only a fool would attack the gifted.

I regarded my young friends back with wonder and envy at his bravery and at the same time with some pity. I was sure that the boy had no gift, but he was the second son of a rich  trader and a spoilt one at that. On the journey I had gathered that his motivation was to find himself a role in life, as he could not inherit his father's buisness, and he fancied the prestiege and power held by those who were gifted. Therefore used to getting everything he wanted in life he assumed that the gift was his to have if he only asked. I myself was in an entirley different situation. For 16 years I had been a burden upon my family and now on the cusp of what society deemed womanhood I was told it was time to marry. I disagreed but I could be a trouble for my family only a little longer. The wages I pulled in working in the fields did not truly earn my keep in the small cramped house my parents and five siblings occupied. However save to join a nunnery and serve God there was little else that a woman who wanted her independence without a marriage could do. This left a life as a Gifted one my only option but it was a last resort. To be sure recognition as one of the Gifted, one with the ability to change the world with merley a thought, brought honour of a kind but it also brought segregation. Few looked upon the Gifted with ease. In my own village though one had only come to visit once we had regarded her with fear as well as awe and she had sat alone in the tavern though normally visitors were pounced upon for any news of the outside world. I feared this same seperation, the look on my mother's face when I had first suggested that I might have the gift had not been one of pride or even shock but one of horror. She had masked it quickly replacing it with a look of interest but I still saw waryness in her eyes and it was reflected in the faces of the rest of my family when I left.

I sighed and finally forced my feet to move forwards, the time for such thinking was done. I had made my choice in coming here and accepting that which I wanted to deny and it had cost me too much of the limited money my family had to grant this oppurtunity. I consoled myself with the thought that I might yet be turned away though inside I knew this would not be true. One year ago my gift had manifested for the first time when I had seen a stone throw itself at a young fox, intent on stealing one of my landlords chickens. I had not touched it but in my heart of hearts I knew that I had been the one to move it and after that day my life had become filled with such inexplainable occurences.

I hurried on to be with Peter, my companion, and together we reached the door of the manor house. Up close I saw that the walls not only shone but that they were covered in writing, though for the most part I was illiterate I recognised at least that these were letters. I saw Peter spare a glance at the walls, he no doubt could read them, but now we were here he was more interested in what lay inside. As one we reached for the bell over the door but I drew back on seeing him move and instead lowered the hood that had covered my face.

The bell rang loudly in my ears as he tugged furiously upon it. I looked up to see Peter grinning smugly. Typically arrogant he wanted the whole world to know that he was here and that he didn't care a bit about respecting the quiet of the night. I guessed that the second he saw a true Gifted one this arragont demeaneour would fade away like breath on glass. 

From inside we heard the sounds of shuffling and, though the hour was late and most would be preparing for bed, the door opened within seconds. A small man in the brown habit of a monk greeted us, he smiled at Peter and I and beckoned us in.
"Do you seek aid or refuge?" He asked.
"We are here to test our gift old man, take us immediately to a Gifted One".
I bobbed an awkward curtesy to the monk, deciding to show more respect than Peter had. I was not sure that his casual assumption that the monk did not have the gift was right. The man had a mild face and a small stature (not the impressive looks one might expect) but I could see no other reason for him to be so far from his monastery and remembered well the plain dress and looks of the woman who had passed through our village. As I was looking down he spoke softly, so that I barely caught his words.
"My name is Jerome". As I looked up worried that I would have to strain to hear him and so tilting my head closer towardsd him, he continued in a louder voice. "If you wish to enter for the testing you must answer my question first".
Peter looked at me with a smirk, I could see that he was already feeling some competition between the two of us and that he felt sure he with all his education and superior birth he would find it easiest to answer.
"What", the old monk said in a voice more confident than before "is my name?"
I frowned at him in pure confusion, was this some trick, was there some clue I had missed. I began to panic and looked at Peter. He was as confused as me but he showed it in anger.
"How old man am I supposed to know that if you haven't told me it!" I started even more at his words, no longer with any idea what was going on. The idea that some sort of trick was being played was prominantly in my mind and I did not want to open my mouth for fear I would give the wrong answer. Jerome looked at us patiently. I looked down at my feet wanting merley to answer 'Jerome' but still with the fear I would be told to leave. Though I had not wanted to come I now found myself desperatley hoping to be accepted into Firethorn cottage, the refuge of those with the Gift.

Distantly I head Peter complain that there was no chance he would guess the right name, then he began to fling random names at him. It made no sense to me and as I stared at my feet I again heard him whisper Jerome. Peter carried on without pausing yelling now "Micheal, Alex, Jonathon". I looked up finally sick of the games.
"Your name is Jerome now please let me in." I spoke with as much confidence as I could muster, if I was to be rejected I would do it with all the dignity that was possible. The monk looked at me and nodded his warm smile growing.
"Please come in." He turned to Peter, maintaining the smile though I glimsped something approaching contempt in his eyes "I am afraid you are not suitable though if you wish you may spend the night here in safety and comfort".

I felt as if a flower was blooming in my chest and was suprised that something I had not thought i wanted could bring such joy. In a daze I stepped forward into a hall and in a momment, though I had not heard anyone summoned a woman in a plain green dress appeared and guided my into the main house. I was aware in the background that Peter was arguing with the monk and as I moved through the lower floor of the house I saw that each wall was like the ones outside glowinng and covered with pale writing. Dimly I wondered how any one could sleep if all the walls were like this but the next I knew we had passed from the light of the halls into a darkened room and with a smile and a few words the woman was gone. I spared a brief glance for the room, but took nothing in then collapsed onto the comfortable looking bed in the corner suddenly filled with a fatigue I had not felt before.

I was woken by a soft, almost self concious tap on my door. Light streamed in through a small window that, I was amazed to see, actually contained glass. I closed my eyes for a second and re-opened them to find that I was still in Firethorn. Then I remembered the noise, unsure if I'd been dreaming or not I got out the bed and headed towards the door. The tapping came again before I got there but this time I paused, I was suddenly aware that I was still in my clothes from the night before and that I looked a mess. I turned away to see if there was anything to wash myself with in the room, but then turned back to the door not wanting to keep anyone waiting. Before I could decide what to do first the door opened however and a seeming waterfall of brown hair peeped round it. Delicate hands pushed the hair back revealing the nervous face of a young girl, I guessed she was about fourteen.

"May I come in?" The voice was as meek as the knock that had preceeded it, her shyness put me a little more at ease but as she entered I kept my arms wrapped around myself. She was carrying a bundle of material that she placed on my bed, after scrutinizing it I realized them to be a robe and a towel. 'She is a servant?' I guessed but it felt rude to ask.
She backed out the room and came back with a washbasin filled with water. "Mistress Firethorn asks that when you are ready you come to the dining hall, she will fill you in on...erm...what is to be done with you". I shivered it was an ominous sounding prospect.
"Who is Mistress Firethorn? And where is the dining hall?" I had more questions but the girl seemed timid so I held the rest back.
"Mistress Firethorn is in charge of this refuge, the erm title comes with the job." She didn't look up from her feet the whole time she said this and her next sentence was barley audible. "If you'd like I could wait to show you to the dining hall?" It took my a moment to work out what she'd said, I had to rerun the whispered dialogue in my head but once I understood I immediatley nodded and babbled my thanks.
The girl disappeared from my room and I quickly changed and splashed my face, she hadn't said I needed to hurry but I was excited (and a little scared) to explore Firethorn and more importantly was desperate to make a good impression upon the menacing figure of their leader.

Outside my room the girl was resting on the floor but when she saw me she leapt up guiltily. Determined to make friends I held out my hand the way I had seen the merchants that came to our village do.
"My name is Clara".
"I'm Alison" she paused "it's nice to meet you...we haven't had anyone new in so long." The way she said it, the we, it made me wonder if she too was one of the Gifted. Perhaps I had been rash in assuming her to be a servant. Was anyone here going to be what I expected.

She turned and walked down the hallway but despite my determination to learn my surroundings as quickly as possible I found myself distracted. In my room the walls had been plain brick, a novelty in itself when I loved in a wooden house but something I had expected. However every surface and wall in the hallway was covered in the beautiful glowing writing I had seen before. Some of it in the script of our land, which though I could not read I could recognise, some of it in strange symbols. It shimmered and changed as I looked at it and though I tried to keep pace with Alison eventually I was overcome and reached out to one particular wall.
I was an alchemical laboratory, I was an old man in the alchemical laboratory. I poured glowing liquid into a beaker, I was the liquid, I was the beaker. I was sparking and I was shielding my eyes from the heat and I was burning with a chemical fire inside me and I was the table reflecting the heat and...

I was on the cold floor with my eyes closed. I could feel the weight of Alison on top of me. I opened my eyes and she, embarassed stood up and moved a few feet away as if to make up for the previous contact with excess space.
"Sorry" she mumbled in a tone that was fast becoming familiar.
Still dazed I sat up, I could remember it so clearly the feeling of being that old man and of being that room and more.
"I should have warned you" she said, head down hair obscuring her no doubt regretful eyes, "they can do that to you". She looked up at me apolgetically. "The walls can I mean, well its not just the walls anything here that you see with the writing can. It takes a while to learn how to handle them, the memories they can try to make you be everything at once. You have to force them to control themselves."
"What...what was that?" The strange feeling of oneness, of losing my sense of self was fading now.
"Memory and magic, it's hard to explain. When we, that is the Gifted, when we die. If we want we can leave something of ourselves behind. If we want, if we have something we think people need to know. We have to actually, otherwise, otherwise people coudl get hurt."
"I?" She didn't let me finish whatever question I had been going to ask.
"I best let Mistress Firethorn explain, I'm not good at it". With that she was moving again and I was left with no choice but to follow, making sure to keep all body parts well clear of the shimmering walls.