Where am I…? Mom? Dad? Isueara? Fallon? Shay? Where are you? …………Lave?
I opened my eyes slowly, feeling a crushing pain on my forehead. I closed them again. "Where…where am I?"
I felt someone push a steaming cup of liquid into my hands. "Drink."
"No. You---you could have poisoned it."
"Why would I do that?"
"I don't know."
"Just drink it!"
"I don't have to!"
"Do you want to die?"
"If you poisoned it, I'll die anyway."
"Why would I make you a poisoned draft to cure if you were going to die anyway?"
"Maybe you wanted me to die a long and painful death."
"Argh."
"…"
"Milady, just drink it, I swear on my dead sister's grave! 'Tis not poisoned!"
"Fine."
I took a very small sip. It tasted like heaven, the sweet drink floated over my tongue like a cloud. "It's alright."
"Thank you Miss. I have made it many a time."
I opened my eyes, feeling no headache or burning sensation causing my eyes to close again. I was looking into the dark blue eyes of young boy peasant, about my age. I gave a small screech and jumped back. "Sorry if I startled you Miss."
I simply stared at him. "Miss…May I ask you, are you—are you alright in the head?"
I felt my cheeks blush heavily. "Are you asking me if I'm mad? Are you asking if I'm raving mad?!"
He colored as well. "NO—no. I'm not Miss."
I glared at him. "You were! And don't call me Miss! And no, I will not tell you my name until you tell me yours!"
He bowed low. "A thousand pardons Milady, but it is customary for thou to introduce yourself first."
I glared. He just grinned at me. "Well, you most certainly have a sharp tongue for a peasant!"
He stepped backward, a little hurt in his eyes. "I am no peasant Miss. I'm a gentleman, fine as any."
I snorted. "Fine! I will give my name to you. My name is Aizza, now tell me your name!"
He nodded. "My name is Gregory Miss—I mean Aizza. Pleasure to meet you."
I gave a small nod, and extended my hand for him to kiss it. He didn't. Instead, he shook it roughly, getting grime on my fingers. I gave a noise of annoyance. He just smiled mildly and drove the small cart we were in on. "Now that I know who you are, explain to me where I am, and why I am here! You obviously did not kidnap me, the many who kidnapped me and killed—and killed my older sister was older! An awful man, with long white hair. Where is he? He must die on the edge of my dagger!"
Gregory looked surprised at me. "You…you have a dagger Miss?"
I nodded, and took out my favorite one. The hilt was engraved and was decorated with small jewels. "Well well well. Look who we have here. Miss Aizza, is it? Greg, get away from her. I will not let you converse with my son. Very nice dagger though, I must admit. Very pure, lined with topaz, and engraved? You must be very skilled to have earned such a toy."
I turned around swiftly. There, smiling smugly was the white haired man who had killed my sister. "Yes. 'Tis a nice blade. Though I will take leave of it once it is tainted with your blood."
He simply laughed. "Well, I plan to live quite awhile longer Aizza. So, your restless blade may have to wait awhile."
I clenched my fingers around the engraved hilt. "It—it may. And it may not."
If he was surprised, or scared, he didn't show it. "I suppose, well, I suppose we well just have to let time untangle these things, eh? Yes, I think so. Now, why you are here. Your father was Calhoun, and your mother was Jesmira. Deadly mix, that it is."
I peered curiously at him. "Me? Deadly?"
He stared wearily at me, looking more like the kind old man that I had seen at my window then a smug looking corpse. "Well, think about it. Your father, Calhoun, was one of the most deadly warriors, correct?" I nodded. "Yes, my father is honored throughout our world."
He spat on the ground. "Huh! His one sword is smothered with the blood of too many honored warriors. He has no respect for the dead."
I glared at him. "The warriors that he hath killed deserved no respect!"
"Wrong! One of those men was my brother. A fine gentleman he was, had a family, two sons, a daughter. One of the sons went looking for his father, never came back. The daughter died at seven from a disease which we have yet to find out about. And the mother killed herself when she heard the news of his death. You might as well say your father killed a family. A fine honor that is."
Greg had gotten out of the small cart we were in to tend to one of the horse's hoofs. "But, what of the other son?"
The man got a far-off look in his eyes. "He's outside, caring for his father's horse."
"Greg?"
"Aye, he's all that's left."
"I am not like my father. I don't long for battle. I hate war."
"Ah, but you have his blood in his veins, and you long for my blood now, don't you?"
"I don't know."
"I told you, I don't know! But what of my mother's half? You said it was a deadly combination."
"Changed your mind have you?"
"Oh, you have your mother's beauty. Long dark brown hair, those deep black eyes."
I stared. "You mean the limp yarn that I can scarcely brush for all the tangles? You mean my tiny little beady eyes that slightly resemble a shark's?"
He laughed. "You cut yourself short Miss."
"Thank you. I think."
"'Twas a compliment, might as well take it so."
"I suppose."
"Now, why you are here…"cc "Yes?"
"Well, you being a deadly beauty…your mother also had the power to cure as well."
"She did?"
"Yes, she did. Although she never used it again after Calhoun died. She was a foolish, devoted woman. She could have used her skills her something more. 'Tis a pity you never got to see her magic. She—she could stop death, with just one potion, or a pill. Stop internal bleeding so simply…it really ways amazing."
"That is amazing, yes…but what does it have to do with me?"
"Well, you wish to kill me, thirst for blood like your father did when he was alive, because you have his blood in your veins. You have your mother's beauty because you have her blood in your veins. I am hoping the amazing ability to cure came with that beauty."
"I can hardly bandage my sister's wounds when she scrapes her knee, how can you expect me to be a healer?" "I am assuming you will have the natural instinct when in the correct situation."
"Huh!"
"It's true! Your mother was a great healer, and I hope so are you. Now, enough of that talk. How old are you Miss Aizza?"
"I am of fifteen years."
"How proper you are. You didn't look so proper when I saw you at your window. A bright red you were, and your hair looked like a chaotic storm."
I bushed furiously. "My cousin and I were practicing! I had just escaped his wrath after…"
I blushed again. "After I had one of the guards trip him and-and I put a lily behind his ear."
I could hear Greg burst out laughing from the front of the cart. The white haired man chuckled, and called to Greg, "You can come back now Gregory, this girl can do no harm, physically or mentally."
He walked back in and sat down by his Uncle. "Time for proper introductions. I am Lance, and this is my son, Greg. We may have peasant names, but we are gentleman. We have asked you to come and heal my small daughter, Nina. She is in much distress, and we would be eternally grateful if you would use your skills to heal her, and quickly."
"How old is your daughter?"
"About the age of your younger sister. Around of the same personality as well. Very bright, young. Deep green eyes, long brown hair. Do you need to know anything else?"
"Yes. I do not know if I can help you. You've killed my sister, and that is a considerable offense."
"I have not killed her Aizza."
"What, but she was lying dead on the floor!"
"'Twas but a trick your father taught me. I slit a vain in her throat that outlaws all movement. She is probably up and being her usual scolding self at this very moment."
"They---they will look for me, you know. They will pay you whatever you want, I just want to go home."
He peered at me. "The sweet innocent girl masquerade does not suit you."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I can see the fire in your soul, you are more masculine."
"Oh shut up! I am as feminine as all the rest."
I fluffed my hair, trying to find the sweet pout that came to Isueara so easily. Greg snorted quietly with laughter, and the white haired man rolled his eyes. "Enough of that. Let us rest. We have a long road ahead of us."
I woke up to the smell of bread baking. When my eyes fluttered open, I saw two identical ones staring back at me, except they were purple. "HI MISS AIZZA!"
I shot up and took a few steps backward quickly. An older woman who was tending to the bread quickly picked up the purple eyed toddler. "Oh my, I'm sorry dear. Tanya's just a little thing, but two years old. She meant no harm. Come here my dear fairy queen."
Tanya ran into the woman's arms happily. "Oh no. It's alright, I don't mind. I had—I have a sister who is about her age. Fallon. So does your name mean fairy queen little one?"
Tanya looked at me with those mesmerizing amethyst eyes and nodded shyly. "And..your name is Aizza, right? That means life. A lovely, fitting name for a maiden of such beauty. Come, let's get you cleaned up."
I was pulled, squished, and twisted into a tight cotton frock. My hair was pulled back into a bun and secured with a bone comb. There was no paint on my face. I looked like a commoner. I didn't say that to the woman though, she had been kind to me.
"Alright dear Aizza. Lance and Greg are waiting for you in the healing tent. Please go to them. Nina is my neice, I really do wish you would help her."
Tanya looked at me. "Help Nina."
I smiled at the little girl, and ruffled her long black hair. "I will."
I hurried to the tent that had a bold red 'RX' printed on the white fabric. Greg smiled brefily as I walked in but Lance's face looked as if it was made of marble. "Good. You're here. Please, do something. My daughter is right here."
I let out a cry, but quickly clamped a hand over my mouth. The little girl looked like a creature that had been let out of hell. Her face had suffered burns and her eyes were pinched shut by the pain that she was obviously feeling. I touched her forehead hesitantly, only to realize that she was soaked with burning sweat. One eye squinted open wearily. "…life…"
I stared at the little girl who gave me the meaning of my name so easily. I felt overcome with sadness. "I…don't know if I can help her."
I walked outside the tent and cried. I cried because I had been taken from those who I had loved, and I could not help a little girl who was in so much pain. The tears ran down my cheeks like so many little rivers. I heard someone sit down heavily beside me. "I…I suppose I was dreaming…to think that you…the daughter of Jesmira…would somehow inherit her talent for healing…I just…She…I love my daughter so much Aizza. I suppose I must wake up from that dream. I will take you home."
I had never seen a man so overcome with grief. "NO! I will try one more time."
I hurried back into the tent. I closed my eyes. If I have any shred of my mother's healing powers, let them be sent to me now. I opened my eyes with a start. "I want an untouched rose, a hyacinth, and mint. GET THEM!!!"
Greg looked at me with a start, then grinned. "GO!"
He hurried out the door. I scooped up a cup of cool water and dipped a light cloth with it. I patted her forehead with the damp liquid to put out the fever. I touched her forehead, it was still burning. I left the cloth on her forehead and snatched the herbs away from Greg. I took a small rock from the ground and crushed them until a fine powder appeared. I grabbed a cup and filled it with water, and poured the powder in. I mixed it quickly, and spooned each drop into the girl's mouth slowly. I looked at Lance. "That's all I can do. We just have to wait."
We waited paitently for three months. The girl did not get any sicker, nor any healthier. Greg glared at me. "I can't take this anymore! You are nothing but a useless wretch! The only thing you can do is sit on a throne and look pretty! You will come to an awfull death I can assure you that!"
I stared at Greg, but did not cry. I simply took out my dagger and looked at the beautifully engraved hilt. "Your right. But there is something I am good at."
I walked into the medical tent, clenching the dagger, my eyes wide and staring. I felt the girl's face. Still burning. "I despise you and all your family!"
I plunged the dagger down. I heard a sharp high gasp as a spot of blood splattered on my cheek like a single tear. I pulled it out and then threw it on the ground, horrified. Greg ran into the tent. "You..you killed my sister. MURDERER!"
I sobbed freely, tears mingling with Nina's blood. "I'm not..I'm not…I'm not!!"
I lunged out of the cramped tent and into the village. Passerby people stopped and stared at me, Tanya and her mother among them. Greg picked up Nina's dead body and threw it after me. "DEAD! Nina's dead! Dead by this dagger. What is that name engraved on this hilt, eh?! Calhoun! That bitch killed her!"
Tanya ran up to me. "You…you killed Nina? Why?"
Her mother grabbed her away from me as I tried to explain. "Don't go near her Tanya! Stay. Who knows, maybe she kills young girls like you for enjoyment. You sick girl!"
Tanya cried softly. "Tanya…" I whispered quietly.
But she was already being dragged away by her mother. I could hear her wails even after she had disspeared from view.
What have I done?