Flightless Dragon

Flightless Dragon
By Kitty Willard


Prologue

The sun was still high in the sky, when Afarrious, a ship owner, went out on his daily walk out on the docks where the market place was. The salt filled air opened up his lungs as he breathed it in. The gray wisps of his hair was blown about by the sea breeze, as he strolled down one of the many little cobblestone roads. A smile played upon his lips though the people around him were too transfixed with the market to notice it. Sounds where everywhere. Men and women alike were shouting out prices and specials. All the chattering, hollering, muttering, arguments, and threats were all pitched into a mass of incoherent ramblings. Passing by some stands, Afarrious greeted the people he knew and bought some figs to snack on. Exhausted, Afarrious stared his way back home when unexpectedly he ran into an old friend, Edel. His stomach twisted, this was the last person he wanted to see. He despised Edel, outwardly and inwardly alike. Edel was vile, corrupt, wicked, dishonest, and a back stabbing hypocrite. He knew all this by personal experience. Edel and he used to be partners in the shipping market, but alas Edel was too much to bear. He cheated, broke the law, kept hidden secrets, and did many other things Edel behind Afarrious’ back. In the end Afarrious left the partnership, and started his own shipping market, which grew extremely well surpassing Edel’s. Ever since that he had not seen Edel again. He knew that Edel loathed him even though he, with Eidon’s help, forgave Edel of all his treacheries. But alas here he was- in the market place, the last place in the world Afarrious would ever expect to see him. Afarrious first thought was to escape from Edel before he saw him, but he was touched when he saw Edel’s brutality full force upon an orphan boy. Edel screamed and kicked the boy in his furry. Afarrious knew he had to stop it. He had seen the boy before and had heard good reports from people he knew that the boy was trustworthy and hard working. There was no possible way that boy deserved such treatment. As Afarrious got closer he could hear Edel shriek, “You dim-witted boy, you called that work!! It’s not!! Be gone- I shall neither give you food or water, you worthless thing!!” Afarrious’ blood boiled. No creation of Eidon’s deserves that type of treatment! “EDEL!” Afarrious’ voice boomed clearly. Edel swirled around. Afarrious could see the fury in his eyes as they widened. A cruel smile swept across Edel’s red face. “Afarrious.” Edel said as he opened his arms to greet Afarrrious. Afarrious frowned. Hatred filled Edel, when Afarrious did not greet him; therefore he kicked the orphan boy again and left. After Edel was out of sight, Afarrious took a deep breath, then knelt besides the curled up boy. “It’s alright, he’s gone.” Afarrious whispered as he stroked the boy’s back. Uncurling slowly, the boy looked up into his savior’s face. “Can you walk?” asked Afarrious. The boy nodded his head yes, but when he tried if it wasn’t for Afarrious being there he would have fallen to the ground. Helping the bruised boy up, he said, “I am Afarrious. My house is near here, come with me.” Without a word spoken after that, Afarrious helped the boy to his house. Closing the door behind him, Afarrious shouted for Molly the house servant. “Molly! Molly! Where is that confounded servant?”
“Here, sir.” Molly said as she ran to meet her master at the door.
“Well Molly, don’t just stand there! Fetch some water and while you’re at it some clothes for this young boy here. Do go ahead and start cooking some of that famous stew of yours for us. Where is Shelly? Whenever I need her, she always seems to be out somewhere!”
“My lord, she went out for a moment. She’ll be back soon.” Molly stated as she rushed to comply with his orders.
While Afarrious waited for the stew to be cooked, he helped the boy bathe and clean his several cuts and bruises. The whole while the boy said not one word. Finally the stew was done and Afarrious took the boy to the kitchen. Leaving the boy to his meal, Afarrious went down to his little library. He hadn’t even been there for 15 minutes, when his daughter Shelly came running into the room. “Father, how was your day!” she said smiling fondly.
Quite tired Afarrious said, “You are old enough to know not to run in the house.”
Shelly drew a breath, “You’re right father. I’m 16, but how can I not for I love to run!”
Smiling Afarrious told of his day and how he brought the boy home.
She squealed in delight, “What is his name and what is he like??”
Afarrious frowned, “I don’t know. I don’t even know if he can speak!”
Shelly laughed and then pulling his arm, “Let’s go ask him then!”
Both went to the kitchen, but when they got there the boy had fallen asleep on the table. Molly went on to mention that the boy must have been starving, because he ate hungrily. Deeply touched, Afarrious picked up the boy and set him in a bed where he could sleep more peacefully.

Morning came and Afarrious went to check on the boy he had brought home yesterday. He was pleased to find the boy sitting up eating breakfast. In seeing Afarrious, the boy stopped eating and stood up.
“What’s your name, lad?”
“Angelo, sir.”

The New Mask of the Royal Prince

We Wear the Mask
By Paul Laurence Dunbar

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding heart we smile,

Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask!

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!







By Kitty Willard


Prologue

The only sound heard down the gloomy corridor was the sound of a scullery slave’s footsteps making the wooden floor creek. Sweet ran down her back, she shivered. I can do this. I can do this. She kept saying to herself. Salma gulped hard, she was now in front of her master’s door. Without warning, the door creaked open. Her body tensed as her grasp of the tray of food tightened. She saw her knuckles turn white. Then she heard a deep voice, it almost sounded inhuman, “Come in, doll.” Salma made herself breathed; she had not realized that she had been holding her breath. As she entered, hot fumes hit her face, stinging her eyes. Drawing nearer, she saw her master seated behind his desk, which was clustered with ancient scrolls, books, and colorful potions. Her master spoke again, “Put that over there on the table.” He motioned to the little side table that was near the fire place. She immediately quickened her pace; she had no wish to stay longer than she had already. She had on foot out of the room, when abruptly her master called, “Wait…”
Salma froze, she clench her teeth and turned around. She voice trembled, “Yes, master. Do you wish for some thing else?”
“Yes, come here.”
Slowly she approached her master’s desk. Her master’s eyes seemed to search her head to toe. Salma bit her lip, hoping to restrain herself from running out the door. Seeming to have finished, his look, he sighed then closed his eyes. “You where very young when they sold you into slavery, weren’t you?” he began, “You were just another mouth to feed your parents said many times. To them you weren’t beautiful, not male so not worth anything. You were a thorn in their side another female they would have wished that you had died at birth. So they sold you at age six to a rich mistress and that’s what you’ve been cursed to do for ten years. You’ve been beaten, broken, and hated, passed on to other masters every couple of months. You’ve learned to close your heart and hate the people around you.” He opened his eyes for the first time since he had closed them. “Is what I say, true?” He sat there waiting for a response. Salma’s eyes swelled up with tears. She tried to answer, but got choked up. In despair she covered her face with her hands, and tried to control herself. As if in a dream, Salma felt herself being led to a chair next to the fireplace and a warm blanket being put over her. She smelled tea being poured, she felt as if she would swoon. A tea cup was brought to her lips, and she calmly sipped it. Warmth swept over her, her tears stop and she could see properly again. Her master knelt there next to her. He does have a handsome face. She thought to herself. Her master smiled and pushed a curl from her face, he stroked her face tenderly. Finally words came to her. “Master, how did you know all that?”
“I know lots of things, my dear, but lets not speak of those thing now. All I want you to know is that I have a better plan for you…you can choose to follow or decline, but it must be said that it is better than what your parents planned, better than any of your other masters had planned…it will change your life.” He paused to let it sink in, then continued, “I can teach you and give you power, and even love if you wish… Do you see these books? I shall teach you how to read and write. You shall life the way you should have- on one condition…”
“What is it I’ll do anything!” Salma pleaded.
“It is that you should pledge to me, follow me, serve me and me alone. To learn all I teach you and do as I tell you…”
Salma hesitated, something in her head told her it was wrong, but she couldn’t just reject her master’s wonderful offer. She looked into his eyes and said, “I pledge… I will serve you and you alone. Please teach me.”
A mischievous smile appeared on her master’s face, and it frightened her. “Good…” he stated, “But first you must past a test…”
***

Her hands trembled, the movement almost made the glass of wine spill. Salma cursed underneath her breath. This is what he calls a test! Humph! This is murder… That thought had gone through her mind ever since she was told what to do. But she couldn’t go back- not on her word nor her pledge. Salma slipped off the ring her master had given her. With a nudge the ring opened to show a hidden compartment in it was the poison, the poison she had to give to her unsuspecting victim. She poured it in the wine cup. It bubbled, Salma jumped back frightened by the sudden burst. When it stopped she warily placed it on the tray. Taking a deep breath, Salma straighten her shoulders and went to deliver it.



Chapter 1

Swords clashed. The air was filled with the pungent smell of sweat. Muscles bulged. Eyes met, one pair violet-blue, the other dark as mud- each looking for the others weak spot. Tension was high. On the side of the training area, a group of young warriors watched the clash. Silents intertwined them as they pondered either of their two leaders would prevail. One was tall, broad shouldered capable with the broad sword he wheeled. His long tangled brown braids clung to his head, while his brown eyes stayed upon his opponent. The other was significantly younger and not to mention shorter, but quick and agile. He move a great deal and made precise swings with his sword. His height gave him an advantage as he dodged and avoided the other man’s broad sword. Frustration could be seen as the taller man pushed harder trying to over whelm the youth, but his tactic wasn’t working. The young lad moved without difficulty out of his rival’s grasp, watching his ploy tire the taller man. With glee, the young lad made a fake right. Failing to realize the trick the taller man turned only to have cold steel meet his throat. Silents that had once occupied the group of warriors was gone, as an up roar of cheers and shouts filled the training area. A smirk swept across the defeated man’s face, “No matter how many times, you still never let me win, Pierce.” Without answering, the lad turned to the group of cheering young warriors and silenced them, “Men, you have seen me fight Captain Yameel, a man twice my size and almost twice my age. Be ye forewarned- do not underestimate your opponent. Size nor age can determine the win, but lack of keenness can kill you. Back to your stations! Pair up, and be quick about it!”
“Put your backs in it!!” Yemeel shouted after them.
When the men were settle in their practice, Pierce and Yameel went aside to the palace’s garden. It was more dead than live, since winter was still over them.
Grinning, Pierce answered Yameel, “You know I never will, captain.”
Yamiel raised an eye brow and licked his lips, “You can put your sword down, you know.”
Pierce chuckled as he sheathed his sword, “You know, captain, I’ve had braver opponents, you should at least try to be.”
Sheathing his own broad sword, Yameel shoved Pierce playfully, “You wouldn’t know fear if it stood in front of your face, general.”
Pierce turned around. He glared at Yameel with a cold scowl. Yameel’s stomach turn. Now he was wishing he had said nothing.
“I’ve known fear, seen it in its fullest, seen the damage- felt the pain. Fear is nothing to fool around with. Fear can kill.” Anger surged through Pierce, he turned and walked faster.
Feeling annoyed with himself, Yameel ran to catch up, “Pierce!”
Stopping, Pierce snarled, “In front of my men, I will not have you called me Pierce. You will call me general or sir. Am I clear!”
“Yes, general, of course.” said Yameel hurt by his words.
Pierce continued his fast walk. He was so irritated. Silents now occupied their walk. Yameel was baffled; he had never known anyone so… well he didn’t even know a word to describe it.