Airen

Chapter 1

“Marisendra Bell Corllina, I just mended that dress!”

My mother stood in the doorway of our modest cottage, hands on her hips, glaring at me. To be fair, I deserved her glare. It also wasn't her worst by far. The slight twitch of her mouth gave her away, but I hung my head anyway, playing my part. Letting my shoulders drop, I was the picture of a remorseful daughter who was in serious trouble. My mother stepped to the side and threw her hand, finger pointing inside our cottage. I obediently walked past her. As soon as the door slammed shut with a loud crack, the charade was over and my mom was hugging me.

“You beat him squarely?” She asked.

I scoffed and turned to her with a grin. “I kicked his arse.” Her hand flew to her mouth to smother the laugh our neighbors would hear. But her brilliant golden eyes twinkled. Eyes that matched mine. She ushered me further from the door and the gossip loving ears beyond it.

“Good! Mr Blake and his sons, especially his oldest are...” She broke off and shook her head. Swallowing the curse word on the tip of her tongue. My aunts wouldn’t have minded the foul language, as they were of the same mind as my mother and I but my younger siblings in their innocence might repeat my mothers words.

“Marisendre?”My aunt Lucina called, popping her fiery red head around the corner of the main room into the entry where we stood. She looked at me, grinned and winked. "Better get changed love," She said before vanishing.

I followed her into the main room, my eyes skimming the simple but well cared for furnishings before turning to walk up the cramped stairs to the loft, which I shared with my younger sisters. My brother, the only male in the house, and being only 4 years-old, slept in our mothers room. My aunts shared a small one bedroom cottage nearby they inherited from my grandmother when she passed two winters ago.

The loft was a good size, about half the length of our cottage. Two simple beds, one larger than the other dominated the space. As my head crested the landing, I spotted Arendre sitting on the smaller of the two beds, swinging her short legs, while Lisendre braided her long dark gold hair. The look on Lisendre’s 6 year-old face was serious and from her demeanor you would never know she was only older than Arendre by a year. Lisendre and Arendre favored our fathers darker blond hair, while my fiery hair was typical of our family line. Our brother Bronin, with his black head of hair, was unique in our family.

A sweet giggle drew my attention to the opposite bed. Brisendre, although identical to Lisendre in appearance, was the opposite of her twin in temperament. She flashed the dimples only her sister shared.

“You are covered in mud Mari!” She exclaimed in her birdsong voice. I smiled back.

“Here,” a stern voice interrupted the response I had prepared for my little sister. A dress was thrust into my hands and I held it away from my mud soaked clothing as I looked up at Caliendre.

Her red hair was darker than my own, like our mothers, yet her golden eyes were the same. No child of our line was born without golden eyes. Most had red hair, but it was our eyes that truly marked my kin. Eyes that identified us no matter where we traveled within the walls of our village. Eyes associated with uncommon luck during the tithe and an atypical birth rate. It was not simply that women in my family escaped the tithe so frequently, girls were also born 4 times as often and our families were always large.

I carefully laid my dress on the bed Callie and I shared while she glared at me. Her hair was in an intricate braid and she looked pristine in a white trimmed blue cotton dress, with a delicate woven lace top. The needlework turned a plain cotton dress into something fine. It was her work, as was the stitching on the dress she had handed to me. A pattern of green, brown and gold leaves falling on red fabric, to mimic my favorite season. I gently stroked the soft cloth, careful not to dirty it.

“It’s beautiful Callie,” I looked up at her. “Thank you.”

My sister's stern gaze softened. She did not approve of my activities, not because she did not want me to know how to survive, not because she did not love me, but because she did. The tithing was fast approaching and contrary to what our fellow villagers claimed, my family did lose women to the tithe. Every other generation, a woman in our family was claimed. This did not stop people from resenting us. The recent plague had not helped either.

Although the plague gave the village elders negotiating power with the Airen and the tithe was moved from every 5 years to every 10 years, many were still grieving for lost loved ones and uprepared to lose more to the tithe. My grandmother's sister and all of her children and grandchildren were claimed by the plague, along with my father. We lost more family members than most, yet this did not earn us much sympathy, as our family remained large. I understood and could hold no bitterness towards those who had lost so much.

“Mari, Tienor’s brother has expressed interest in you. If you present well tonight, I think he would be willing to marry you,” Callie said.

I held in a sigh. Tienor’s brother Balor was nice enough, although he did not have Tienor’s good looks, he had a kind smile and admirable profession. But I knew his eyes favored the lovely dark skin of Blake’s middle son and that son favored him in return. He would be willing to marry me, of course, out of family obligation and to ensure his younger brother was free to win Callie. Yet that was not why I would refuse any marriage proposal Balor made. I would refuse for the same reason my aunts never married.

The tithe was for all girls and women 15 to 49, except for those recently married, pregnant or with a child younger than 5 years.

My sister wanted to see me married off to increase my chances of being safe. She did not want to see me flaunting the rules of men by training to one day face the ravenous. She wanted me married, for the same reason I refused to marry. My mother and aunts and her cousins of the same age were all skipped for the tithe, while my grandmother lost a sister. If the trend of the last 30 generations continued, than my generation was going to lose someone and so long as I was single, the girl chosen would be me.

" Callie, marry Tienor, he's smitten with you,” I said. " Do not break his handsome heart trying to save me. I would be miserable with his brother and you know this.” My tone was gentle, though my words hurt her.

She looked sad, furious and pleased all at the same time. I turned from the bed and walked to the washbasin in the corner of the room. I peeled the soiled dress off of me, feeling a sting of guilt for hurting my sisters feelings. Even if it was unavoidable. Callie sighed behind me and in that sigh I heard heartbreak. My sister was starting to realize she could not save me.

Tonight's celebration was a last chance for eligible young women and not so young women, to possibly find a match and marry. Thus escaping the tithe.

I scrubbed my hands and face, removed my underthings and kept cleaning. Modesty did not exist in our bustling cottage where most days you couldn’t walk three steps without encountering someone. I wiped away the dried sweat, emptied the dirty basin and filled it with fresh water and soap and in just a few eye blinks was feeling clean and refreshed. I removed the cap that covered my tightly coiled and braided hair and then began dressing in clean underthings. Callie handed me the dress again and I slipped the light, smooth fabric, so perfect for warm nights of the growing season, over my head. Callie quickly tied up the back with deft hands, while I held my chest in place. The bodice provided enough support, if tightened just right, that I had no need for the corset I rarely wore.

She then reached up and unwove my hair and a soft sound escaped her as the smell of sweet fire blossoms drifted around us. Callie loved my hair and thought my careful tending of it was evidence that some part of me held faminine vanity. She did not know that I kept it clean and long just for her. I held still while she wove my hair into a work of art and then used some of her precious shimmering face paints on my mouth and eyes. She looked me over with a gentle smile of purest love and my heart swelled. I threw my arms around her and hugged her fiercely. She hugged me back immediately.

“I have the most beautiful, wonderful sister in the world,” I whispered.

“So do I,” she said and pulled away.

We turned and found our younger sisters watching us. All three on the bed, eyes large. Their faces were so easy to read. I glanced at Callie, a corner of my mouth tipping up and she met my eyes.

“Sisters,” we corrected in unison and their little faces lit up, understanding perfectly what we meant.

We thumped down the stairs as a group, the smallest leading the way and met our equally well dressed mother in the kitchen. As Aunt Masina wrestled Bronin into his clothing, Lucina waved us out the door.

The night air was fragrant and music drifted towards us from the circle where the festival was held. Without a word, we joined our hands together and moved as one towards the firelight.

I looked at Callie and then at my mom. Tonight all of my plans will settle into place. They will not be happy with me, but they will understand. Callie, Grandma told me so long ago to keep you safe and I swore that I always would.

The prologue for this story was created for the Fantasy Prologue challenge. It does not need to be read first, but does introduce some character and story background. It is a quick read and can be found here: