Sacha's Toil

Introduction

         Dear Reader,

         Most of the dry season was spent plowing the fields and cultivating the land. We toiled for what seemed like ages. I would have told everyone that moving here, in this valley was a bad idea, but had thought better of it and decided that even though I might have been right, it would have been our death if we hadn’t.

         Green fields, and what seemed like an ocean of hills is the vista that we encountered day by day. Tall trees sprout near the stream that we had established ourselves.  And even though I doubted it, I have to confess, the labor that we undertake is worth the beauty that is witnessed here.

         We ignite fires by night from fear of wolfs that roam these hills, and other dangers. A perimeter of watch towers dotting the hills surrounding us, enveloping us in a grim hope that what we fear will not pay a visit. The object of tangible consequence is what we ran from in the first place. The horrible men that burned our homes were the same men that slew our blessed king, Lord Cledwyn. The king died a horrible death, and his rival Mindoro with his cursed knights, burned our homes. Two years we served under his command, more like slaves then as servants.

         Two solid years we bled, while undergoing torture under Mindoro’s cruel hands. Men and women, including children were forced to work in the mines. Soldiers stood watch over us, eager for the chance to catch us doing something wrong. Those cruel men beat us till we could not stand anymore. So many good people died.

There was one time however, when we were a great people. There was prosperity in every home; the cellars were stuffed to capacity. And everyone was happy, until that day where streams of tears ran down our cheeks. And that was the last free act we performed before we were taken. And this is the story that will be recalled, even though I resent the thought of repeating it.

Chapter 1

         The oak’s leaves were turning color again as fall’s graceful hand shifted through the tall branches of the oak with its canopy of orange casting a shadow over the house whose steps I sat on.  The rough stone under which my hand rested upon, I noticed, as I leaned back had imprinted intricate designs on my palm. Even my buttocks felt abused for sitting there so long. I decided to stand up and walk to town. Gossip was interesting now these days, with the new colony growing nearby, and a new guild growing, taking its roots into the system of conversations and politics, I knew that there would be something to entertain me. Bending down I plucked a piece of grass beside the road, I felt a sense of peace and accomplishment settle down inside me, along with the yearning to do something with myself. The prickly feeling as I rubbed the blade across my hand perplexed me. How could something look so smooth, and yet feel so rough and coarse. It’s sort of like the way I work with my bow, it seems so easy watching archers from a distance, but when you get up close and try to work with the weapon yourself, it’s suddenly difficult and often impossible to use.

         The tall grass in the fields beside me rustled as the wind blew, catching my hair and hitting me full in the face. I looked up into the sky as the sun blazed, and let the warmth seep into my skin. Enjoying the comfort of the beautiful day I failed to notice the small pad of foot steps behind me.

         Two heavy paws pressed against my back almost making me lose my balance. I spun around and was thrilled to see Grau happily wagging his tail. His lengthy blond fur shifted along with the breeze, a long face accompanied by a doggish smile begged me to race him. I was giddy today, I had nothing to complain about, wonderful weather, with a stunning view of the great hill, which on it sat the city of my birth. I was raised by my mother, with a caring and loving father who always felt the need to make my mother’s days brighter and spectacular. With each caring stroke of his hand against her cheek brought gladness and prosperity to our household. I could never have been happier growing up on our farm.

         What a beautiful smile my mother had, her gorgeous face with dark brown flowing hair reaching past her shoulders. Perfect teeth with a wonderful grace about her made mine and my father’s heart swell with every caring act my mother performed. My father, a tall stunning man of power served as one of the councilors that advised the king in matters of governing the people. His eyes are handsome with a tall forehead under which his full eyebrows flourish. A mouth that never misses a chance to smile, a mouth that always gives goodly advice from the immense wisdom that ever increases inside his compassionate mind; he is a man who blesses all who would hear him.

         This is an excellent day for a brisk run to town; I thought to myself, I can meet up with Zhora and watch the knights and squires training under the shadow of the new guild. When I was young, Zhora and I used to play war out in the forest surrounding the base of the canyon where our house was. We used to spend hours together, just having fun. It’s nice to have someone to spend my time with. With my father gone all the time, I have found more responsibilities falling down to me and my sisters.

         My legs surged beneath me, sending me flying down the road with Grau trailing behind me. The scenery flew by me, the deep gorge in the earth that ran from the road to the cliffs, boulders the size of oxen that litter the road side all went by in a blur. My house behind me shrunk with every exuberant step I took. Feeling the air upon my sweat covered skin chilled me, even as a bathe in the Grappling Lake would. I love the exercise, every filament of my soul yearned for this moment to last forever. I started to feel my legs grow heavy as the town grew nearer. My blood eagerly absorbed every bit of oxygen my lungs could inhale. The blue sky above me seemed all the brighter today than it ever has been. Looking down, I beheld the shadow of a great bird. I stopped to turn around and saw in the sky, a great feathered expanse riding on the up drafts.

         Spotting a log, I jogged over. I sat wearily down upon it, resting my burning limbs. Catching my breath, I jogged once more. The hill to the city wasn’t that steep, so hiking up it shouldn’t be that difficult. As I reached the top, I was stopped by one of the cities watches.

         “Halt, what’s your name, and the purpose of entering into the city” said the guard. The guard dressed himself in leather armor wielding a spear. He stared at me in annoyance; it seemed that he was playing a game of some sort with his companion in the gate house.

         “My name is Sacha Rhun, I would like to visit a friend of mine; my father is one of the King’s counselors. You know him as Karuk Rhun; he owns a farm down by the cliffs.” I stepped forward in impatience. “You must be new here, what happened to the other guard who was stationed here for so long?”

         “He got himself the sickness that has been spreading about here recently. Until the medication men find out what to do about it, I would stay home, that is if I were you. However, that is your business. You may go in” The guard hastily went back to the guard house.

         As I walked between the gates, the smell that had been getting stronger hit me in the face with its gross intensity, pushing on, I passed the many shops and buildings. My sweat matted hair covered my eyes at times. The sweat started to get into my eyes, making them sting. I brought my hand to my face to wipe it away. As my hand came away from my head flinging beads of sweet upon the ground, Grau who had been following me yelped in surprise. I turned around and witnessed a man holding a staff in a striking position. “Whoa! Hey, leave my dog alone!” the man turned towards me with an expression of intense anger. 

         “Get this mutt out of my apples!” the man shook the stick, and stomped off crushing his apples as he went into his store. Rushing over, I grabbed Grau, who had gotten entangled in a fishing net from the other stores that littered the city. Looking over to where the man with the stick had been standing I beheld turned over baskets of fruit that had spilled upon the ground.  The door to the fruit shop had filled with a shadow again.

         “Get out of here!” the man yelled in a horse tone, he clumsily threw the long piece of wood at Grau, hitting him on his legs. I scrambled away and angrily dashed into a thicket of people with Grau trailing behind me.

         I heard shouts behind me again, and wondered if that was the sales person coming to give me a beating, I tasted the bitter grit of dust in my mouth, as a horse sped past me with its rider clinging on too dear life, as people jumped out of the horse’s way. It was the familiar figure of that rascal Zhora, the thorn in my side, and my best friend for life who had sped past me. He is the leader, and I am the follower.  From birth, we enjoyed playing pranks on the local girls. I think it was 8 years ago when we first attempted to put a bug into my older sister’s bowl. It was Zhora’s idea of course, but my father would not have it. Zhora got sent home, and I got sent to my room without supper. But it was worth it. To see that look of horror spread across her face was priceless. But of course I felt bad about it later; I ended up apologizing for it. The power of guilt and the other person, who is inside me, but not really of me, spoke with its silent words. I had wished that I had listened to it before, but Zhora who was that thorn, ended up distracting me at the time. And I ended up ignoring my spirit of virtue.

         That was just a few of the many scandalous acts we performed as children, but I guess Zhora changed somehow; he doesn’t even hang out with me anymore. The stables where he works at seem to be his life now. But recently he has had a change of mind, to what that change is, I know not.

         “Sacha!” a women’s voice called