Chapter 1

With the ring of a bell, Oriel awoke. It wasn’t light out, as books would say of morning. She couldn’t tell morning from evening; they both looked the same to the Sagen Settlement, as the colony was fondly referred to. Founded in 1317, HVE, it was located in the unlikeliest place possible: the black bottom of the ocean.

Oriel had never seen the sky. She often dreamed of it, and tried to imagine what land must be like. But her imagination was lacking; thinking of those concepts was difficult, as she had little to base her thoughts on. She knew perfectly well what trees, air, water, and soil were. But what was a forest, a cloud, a river, or a canton? The ancient books and texts were merely words, some she did not know. The paintings had faded, and any glimpse of the world above was lost to Oriel.

Well, what was the point in lying in bed thinking? She rolled out of her bunk and slipped on a shawl. As she walked toward the dining alcove, she tried to remember what it that she was doing that day. Fishing? No, I’d have readied my gear last night, she thought. At the thought of night, she giggled.

The dining alcove was empty. Oriel’s family shared the settlement house with two others, and for there to be no one there… Oriel realized that she had overslept. She dashed to the pantry for a bread roll as she remembered that she was gardening. While fish and other oceanic fauna were quite nourishing, they weren’t quite enough. It was the Gardens that had kept the colony alive as long as it had.

After changing in her gardening suit, she hurried out of the house and towards the Gardens.

The Greensmaster greeted her at the gate cordially. “Good to see you! You are covering the north half of Section Three today. Your mother is already there.” He let her through, and she smiled. She enjoyed gardening. It was calm, and peaceful, unlike fishing.

Her mother was already hard at work, surveying the plants when Oriel reached her. “Oh! Well, look at who decided to get up!”

“Mother-”

“Don’t start with that, missy. You know how important this work is. You simply can’t oversleep one day and expect for there to be food for you the next. If these plants had not been brought and grown by our ancestors then-”

“Then we wouldn’t be here today. I know, Mother. You’ve told me at least a hundred times, each time we’ve worked here. You never tell me anything else.” Her mother handed her a trowel and a small bag, and pointed her over to a square of greenery across from them.

The square was full with green plants, but also a few withering brown ones. Oriel dutifully pulled the dying plants out, and apologized to each of them as she placed them into the bag. They weren’t to be thrown out, but used as fuel for non-magical fires. Once the bag was full, she looked out over the sea of green and tried to identify the plants. They were herbs. Parsley, sage, rosemary… Her mother had once told her that there was a song using their names, but no one in the Settlement knew it. Songs were few in their world. It’s a very quiet world, she thought.

“Mother!” she called. When she did not respond, Oriel walked over to her and held the bag in front of her face. “That’s very nice, dear. Go set it in the shed where it belongs. Oh, and then would you go ask the Greensmaster for a few seeds? There’s a clump here that’s dying.”

Back past the shed and past her square Oriel tapped her toes on the stone walk until she reached the gate. “Deirdre kindly requests a few seeds. There’s a clump in one square of North Section Three that’s dying.”

He frowned. “Goodness. That’s not glad news. Third time in the past month that someone’s found one a group of withering plants.” He stepped away from his post and entered the small building by the gate. In a few minutes he returned. “Do you know which square it is?”

“The one directly across form the parsley and sage.”

“Righto,” and then he returned with a tiny packet. Handing it to her, he said, “Tell her to be careful, and return it if there are any left.”

Deirdre thanked her, and the requested some water for the new seeds. “Mother, don’t the mages usually handle watering the plants?”

“Yes, but it’s best not to magic them, least not when they’re just seeds.”

“But don’t seeds have magical properties?”

“Not when they’re for eating. And that’s beside the point. Now hop to it!” Oriel obediently hopped, and then trudged over to the shed for a watering can. The one she grabbed was a bit dusty, but when it was full that wouldn’t matter. And the seeds certainly won’t notice, she thought.

The pool was located in the center of the Gardens, what was hoped to be the least walking distance from any corner of the four Sections. It almost was, but due to the rectangular shape, stretching north to south, it was closer to some areas and not others. Deirdre and Oriel were at the far north end of Section Three, and the walk was not as far as it could have been. But Oriel was already tired; she had walked the length of the Gardens three times that day. She was grateful for only half the distance this time, however.

Oriel found the pool fascinating. It was so simple, yet, to her, beautiful. It had been cut into the rock by magic, and then pumps had been attached to each corner for gardening use. It was not water for drinking, though it looked as though it could be. Had Oriel been allowed to step into the pool, the water would have reached her waist. The four pumps were shaped like dragon heads, and though the handles needed to be turned forcefully, seeing the water spray out was worth it. The metal, of course, was magicked to not rust, and there were no signs of age. When Oriel had finished admiring the architecture, she filled the can up, and got herself nearly soaked in the process.

“Here you go, Mother.” Deirdre thanked her, and then shooed her back to work.

None of the plants in Oriel’s patch looked the way that that clump in her mother’s did. For that, Oriel was grateful. She didn’t know how or why it had happened, and she wasn’t sure if plants dying all of a sudden meant anything dire. Oriel did know that it was not good.

The alarm sounded. A whirling ring of bells and drums, it would have been almost musical if not for what it meant. Someone’s voice could be heard over the din. “Mages and Shield Guardians. Mages and Shield Guardians, report.”

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Author's Note: An anonymous reviewer once told me that I should stick to stories, because I was better at them then at poetry. At the time I did not believe them, and I'm not sure that I do now. But whatever! This is my current writing project, one that I have actually managed to stick to.

And I dedicate the posting of this chapter to Quaviver and Lack Thereof.