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A few nights later, I was sitting in my accustomed place near the warmth of the fireplace, silently contemplating the flames. My thoughts remained centered on the ordeal I had suffered. Dimly, I could hear the crack of the whip, the peals of thunder, and the chanting of the High Priest, mingling into a torturous cacophony in the recesses of my mind. I was not even aware, until he spoke, that Krolaun had approached."Good evening, Katja."
I looked up, seeing the cloak-shrouded elf. HIs grey eyes looked at me in concern, and I pulled the cowl of my cloak lower, "Hello Krol."
"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the chair next to me.
"Of course," I nodded.
He took a seat, still looking at me. Gently, he reached out and touched the edge of my cowl, "Katja. . ."
I glanced at him, not wanting him to see the hurt in my eyes. I didn't want anyone to know how much the Tyberan had broken me. I rose abruptly, and hastened from the Inn, exiting into the warm pre-summer evening.
Krolaun followed me, albeit slowly, "Katja," he asked, "are you angry with me?"
"No," I replied shortly, facing away from him.
He stepped forward until I could feel his presence right behind me, "Then what is wrong?" his foice was full of his worry, "What happened?"
I cannot hide forever.
"Do you know what you ask?" I asked, my spirit and heart heavy with my decision. I turned, looking him squarely in his eyes and seeing only concern in them, "Do you truly know what you ask?"
"No," he replied honestly, "I don't, but I would like to know."
My hands clenched into fists as the memories assaulted me, spinning in my head like some sick painting created by a mad artist, "I was subject to what is know as the Cleansing; a trial of everything one is."
I unclasped my cloak, "This is the handiwork of that event," I pulled the cloak from my shoulders, tossing it to oneside. I felt sick as the light of the moon highlighted every scar, burn, and bruise. They ran from head to toe. Mage-burns from the Cleansing of Magic raced across my thighs. Whiplashes had left red welts on my neck, arms, and face. Bruises mingled through the whole of me. Everything was painfully apparent. He stared silently, as if assessing the damage.
"Katja. . ."
I shook my head, retrieving my cloak, "To add insult to the injuries, they took the Amulet and the Dagger of Mystics from me."
As I put the cloak back on, he touched my arm, "Kat, you didn't have to hide this from me."
I turned, looking at him, "I did what I felt in my heart was right. I did not think it would come to this."
"You knew something like this would happen."
"I was stupid," I confessed, "I did not think they would recognize me. I did not count on Sharidia."
"Sharidia?"
"We called her Shard, because of her sharp and cruel nature. She and I trained together as Warrioresses of the Veil. It was she who assisted in my sentence of Exile by pointing out my failure to the House of Protectorate."
She happened to enter the small inn I was staying at in Tybis, and knew me instantly. She and her guards took me captive."
I blinked, realizing that I had begun to stare blankly at the ground between us, as I relived the journey.
"And the Amulet?" he insisted.
"It, and the Dagger, were taken from me during some part of the Cleansing.
Without them, I am powerless; as ordinary as any person, and unwhole. . ."
I shook my head, "I must bore you," I drew my cowl back up as I stepped away.
"No," he protested, but I pretended not to hear. I had already revealed too much. I had to escape lest I reveal more than I intended.
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© 1999 E. Angeli Mansfield