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Fanfiction ► Honesty and True Lies



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witchprincess

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Okay let me just give a little bit of the setting to you before the story actually begins. think of a time before doctors, where healers that practiced understanding plants and their powers were your best chance of surviving if you ever got ill. Of course, many people knew that there was money to be made in this profession, but half of job takes skill, and long,patient hours of standing before fire, waiting for the different herbs to be soaked or dried to their fullest potency. the other half was knowing the attributes of the potions and dried or fresh herbs and how much to give to one with an illness.

Well, the little town of Kamri was lucky for the most part. The healer they had was more of a bargaining gardener that would rather see those who are ill live before her own prosperity ever came into view. She was considered to be one of the wisest in her skill, having been learning it ever since she was a child. And never did she mind letting people who were too poor to stay anywhere else rest in her own home, or allowing some people to have a few things from her garden as long as they asked first. But, all good and kind things must come to an end, often in a sad way, like a funeral.

So this story begins with a song, a slightly disturbing song, but nevertheless, a song.

Hush, my darling, don’t cry my darling
Hush, can’t you hear?
Hush, my darling, don’t cry my darling
It’s the cry of the Weir.
Hush, my darling, don’t cry my darling
Hush, and go to bed
Hush, my darling, don’t cry my darling
Never lie or you’ll be dead
If you lie then you shall die by his hand
And if it’s hiding your emotions you’re used to
The he shall abuse you
And take you from your land
Hush, my darling, don’t cry my darling
Can’t you tell he’s near?
Hush, my darling, don’t cry my darling
We are ruled by the Weir.

This hadn’t been the first time Maghita had heard the Song of the Weir. In fact, her mother had always sung it to her every night as a lullaby. And on special occasions the tune could be heard on pipes all over the town of Kamri. Even traders from far away cities and villages knew of it. But, this was the last time the old herbalist would sing it for Maghita.

Satir lay in bed as she glided through the words of the song and smiled calmly at the ten-year-old who stood beside her. Her own aged blue eyes met with those bright hazel ones of the child. As she finished the last word of the song, her eyes closed rapidly and her breathing became short and raspy.

Neither really panicked, it always happened to her right after she sang the Song of the Weir. It was what Satir thought of as the enchantment of the song being lifted.

“Tell your mother that all the medicines have been put by the fire pit so she doesn’t have to go looking for them when she takes my place.” She coughed a few times, her whole body shaking with the effort.

Maghita’s face wrinkled with concern and thought. “I’d rather tell your mother she’s going to have to wait a little longer because mine hasn’t learned everything yet.” Tears were beginning to well up on the lids of her eyes. She didn’t want her old friend to die.

Satir laughed at the comment. “Still, she knows more than I did when I first began to practice by myself. Besides, you come here so often, you could probably teach her what the rest of the herbs are for.” The child quietly mumbled her agreement and sniffled. “Now then, Maghita, listen closely. If you have a secret, you must try by all means to keep it from the Weir.” Her face had become dark and her eyes were cloudy, just like when she wasn’t sure whether someone would survive an illness or not.

“But, but-,” Maghita’s eyes widened at this information. Maybe if what Satir had said hadn’t coincided with what Maghita knew, she wouldn’t have been so frightened.

“Be quiet, child! He returns!” Satir’s words seemed to be filled with terror.

“Returns? Satir, who’s returning?” Maghita knelt beside the bed and took hold of the old woman’s right hand, which was now colder than ice.

The herbalist shuddered from the girl’s touch and pulled her hand away. “Please, it would not be wise for you to stay, my dear. He has not yet seen you!” Satir’s gaze moved toward the ceiling and paused for a moment, then, her eyes closed.

Maghita knew better than to just claim Satir dead without checking for a pulse and to see if she was still breathing. But, the ten-year-old was shaking too much to tell whose heartbeat she was sensing, and she could only hear her own breathing above her racing thoughts.

“Satir? Satir! Wake up! Please wake up!” two tears flowed down both corners of her eyes.

Maghita had always thought of the herbalist more like a grandmother that everyone trusted rather than just her mother’s mentor on medicines. Now her mother would have to work harder to learn what to prescribe to whom for what reasons and be able to recognize the symptoms of each illness. Fortunately, Satir had been right about Maghita knowing all the herbs and potions, what they’re used for, and even how to use them. But, she was afraid now that nobody was there to guide her, just in case.

The girl softly wiped her tears away, her actions were now more calm, leaving the rest of the room silent. Except, for someone else’s breathing.

Maghita turned to the sound which originated from next to the doorway by the head of Satir’s bed. Her friend had always been poor, with only four rooms in her home, and her garden was twice the size of her house. There was her room, connected to the other three from the middle of the back, the front room was also connected to everything as it was the place she did business in most often. Then there was the healing room to the left of Satir’s, and then the guest room to the right. Which was exactly where the noise came from.

It wasn’t odd for people to ask to stay a night or two for free in her guest room, as long as they didn’t disturb her work. But, the only people to usually do that were the poorest of traders from out of town. Even then, the traders and merchants only visited during early spring, and this was late summer.

As it were, the young girl was still expecting someone normal. What she saw standing by the guest room door, however, was slightly larger than any man Maghita had ever seen, and was also more animal-like. The person, if it could be called a person, had dark blue leathery skin enveloping well-toned muscles, with sharp, black claws protruding from its fingers where regular nails should have been.

It wore a rough black leather v-neck vest that had a sharp collar, and stopped at the end of the shoulders and just above the waist. The pants were made of the same material, and were long enough that it hit the floor behind the creature’s feet in tattered ends.

Maghita’s mind froze from the shock of what her eyes found. But, as soon as she realized that she was staring without acquiring any information, her brain went to work.

‘Okay, from the look of it, it must be a male, and why is it even here? Wait a minute, could it be?’ she thought to herself calmly. His soft amber eyes turned toward her with a blank expression and his arms were crossed.

She took a shallow breath and asked, “Are you the-,”

He held up his right hand and cut her off. “I am a weir, but not the one you speak of.” His voice was deep and powerful almost to the point of bone-chilling. But even though the weir spoke with authority, there was still a sense of kindness, or at least gracefulness. His arms went limply to his sides making him look even less threatening.

If the girl had had any time to be amazed, she would have been gawking for a few minutes. However, she saw from the corner of her eye Satir take a gasping breath. The weir sounded a low growl, something blue flashed across the floor to under the bed, and a stake pierced through Satir’s midsection from below. Automatically Maghita became cold from the newfound fright of the weir.

The weir looked from the bleeding woman back to the child. “Come.”
 

Haku

<3
Joined
Mar 27, 2007
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Great story! I really liked your style of discription it just made me want to know more, can't wait for the others!
 

witchprincess

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I'm sorry to have taken so long in coming up with the next part but thank you for reading I hope you enjoy this next installment.
chapter two​
The word rang loud and clear throughout Maghita’s head, but “come” had lost all meaning whatsoever.

The child stood frozen watching the stake slowly withdraw itself from the body, making a noise that made even the weir grimace. As it came up from under the bed and towards the blue being, Maghita noticed it looked like a blue floating claw that was covered in blood halfway all the way to the tip.

The claw crept towards its owner’s left hand until it stopped a few inches short of the hand and the thing went up in flames. Maghita jumped from the sight of fire coming out of thin air and also so quickly. However, the flames died down after a moment and the blood that was there was crusted and hard, and fell to the ground right then and there.

“Do not make me have to carry you too. Come, you have seen too much.” From there he picked up Satir’s body and whispered loud enough for only those in the room to hear, “I’m sorry, my old friend.”
Maghita gasped as she heard his words and stammered, “Y-you knew Satir? Th-then how could you do this to her?” Her last statement had been more of an accusation than a question, talking to him as if she was almost forgetting the fact that he was bigger, stronger, and a wolf-like blue thing that had just killed her only friend.

He calmly scoffed and replied, “You can still speak while in shock. Good, we’ll talk along the way. Come on, out to the garden.” He then turned around to face Maghita and motioned for her to go outside. She quickly found the nerve to do as told, leading the way and begging to herself that she didn’t get the same outcome as Satir.

When she neared the middle of the garden, he blankly told her to stop. Next, he stood beside the girl, still holding the dead body over his right shoulder. He took six moderate-length steps forward in a straight line and paused before turning around and stepping back. As soon as he did, though, the line he had just walked opened itself up into a perfectly shaped grave.

Maghita understood what he was doing right away, but refused to believe it. “Satir can’t be dead. I was talking just yesterday with her about nightshade and how putting a few drops of its concentrated form into a mix for curing a simple coughing sickness might hopefully make them sleep better while the medicine worked its way through the person’s system.” Her rant was weak, but it hit both hard with each a memory their own. Both child and weir winced as Satir’s body hit the dirt floor of the grave with an ominous thud.
Along with the end of the sound he nodded grimly in agreement. “I used to believe the same thing, but she kept saying that no matter how small a dose it was, nightshade is a dangerous plant to be dealing with and that the risk of death was not something she would put up with one of her patients. Especially ones who could survive an illness without medication as is.” Her medium length golden hair flew around from the light breeze coming from the northwest, hiding her amazement from the weir and her disbelief of what her ears were hearing.

“Either way,” he continued, “I have to agree with her on not risking anyone’s life more than the danger it is already in.” Maghita wasn’t sure if he really meant it, or if it had a double meaning to it. But how couldn’t he mean it? He’s a weir. Wouldn’t he have to follow his own rules of honesty?

The weir raised his arms slowly and brought them in toward the grave, and following his movements, the dirt fell into the grave in bucketfuls. Maghita couldn’t bear watching any longer, but her feet refused to move because the back of her mind was still reminding her that she did not wish to see the claw again. So she simply turned away, and ended up listening to the earth move itself at the will of the blue being.
By the time she heard everything become still again, several tears had fallen quietly to the ground before her, and more flowed along as the girl turned to see a mound of dirt over the place where her dead friend was lying. Still he was not finished, he outstretched his right hand again, this time palm up, and on it appeared a single seed. From here he dropped the seed over the mound, then knelt with his head down at first and soon after lifted it to say, “As she would have wanted, a true healer’s funeral.”

Maghita took a quick glance at the weir, wondering what he meant, but the moment was lost when she saw flowers and herbs alike sprouting and blossoming faster than light allover the grave.

Once everything was in bloom, which took less than ten seconds, one could see at the center one white rose surrounded by a perfect circle of roses that were every color from the lightest yellow, to even jet black. Outward from that were more and more circles of plants with the final edges sprouting tomatoes.
Now Maghita could willingly believe he was sincere about telling Satir he was sorry for killing her, because since when did people who weren’t sorry for what they had done put on a funeral so fitting for one as Satir? The girl hung her head in silence and prayed a few well-wishes for the late healer before saying out loud, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before, about being friends with Satir.”

He quickly turned his golden eyes toward her, a hint of interest and sorrow showing on his stoic face. “Yes, as I apologize for any of this happening in the first place.” He paused, but for once the silence was calm and somewhat soothing. “Please, will you be willing to keep talking along the way?”
Her shoulder shook a little as she quietly laughed, disgusted with herself for not expecting something like this. “To where?”

He took a look a long breath and then replied solemnly, “To see the Weir that you know of.”
Automatically the atmosphere became a few degrees colder as he answered her question, but neither made any references to the sudden change in the weather, knowing it was caused by the mentioning of something that was meant to haunt little children into behaving. Also because she now knew that there really were such things as weir, her fear made it impossible to speak, meeting one was enough for her nerves, and the only thing to have kept her from dying from fright was understanding that they had something in common. Having to be introduced to another one that was legendary for being brutal made her insides twist and left her mouth dry and so she simply nodded.

He apparently understood her reactions well and hastily reassured her, “Don’t worry, I promise to protect you if I can. Trust me, I’m only bringing you there because I have to. If I had any choice, I would have simply asked you to simply promise not to say anything and left you standing right where you are. But you’re a witness, and there are one or two procedures for something as awkward as this. Okay?”
For one being so powerful, Maghita noticed, he sure acts weak and kind. I hope he keeps his word, what else can I do but believe what he says? And so she managed to squeak out, “Alright.”

He sighed from relief and said, “Thank you. Come on, it would be much faster if we just cut through the rest of the garden, and it’s straight on that way.” He pointed to the west, exactly opposite of the point where the sun had risen a few hours ago. “By the way, since all of this might take awhile, you can call me Ulric.”

She looked at him a little oddly but decided against saying anything for the moment and shrugged to herself. As she came to his side, Ulric and Maghita started off out of the garden, leaving behind the only thing to connect them six feet under a beautiful array of flowers, herbs, and vegetables. But, had Maghita looked harder at the weir when had been kneeling, she would have noticed that was crying for Satir as well.
 

Ban Mido

Kissing the skies.
Joined
Aug 24, 2007
Messages
4,679
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the Honkey Tonk.
Interesting, and very, very dramatic. Not sure if it's the best i've read, though, but I'll be keeping my eyes on any updates.
 

witchprincess

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Joined
Jul 14, 2005
Messages
190
Location
in a little room where walls are bright swirling c
alright, here's the third chapter of this story , and I know it's a lot longer than the others were, but, I'm also hoping that it will hold anyone that's interested in this long enough so I can actually start typing the next part. And Please, please, pretty please comment and tell me what you don't like so I can work on it. (and any other good comments just help to boost self esteem.)

chapter three​

The sun had begun to set when the two came upon a creek after passing rolling hill after rolling hill with not a tree in sight ever since they left the edges of Kamri. Here they sat by the water that gave off the radiance of clear crystal when Ulric stood next to it and dimmed when he moved away, which managed to start a conversation both were willing to keep alive.

“Never have I ever seen water do that before,” Maghita stared wide-eyed at the water flowing over the pebbles next to her while she sat and held her knees close to her. Her green leggings that she was in relation to a healer or healer-in-training pulled up and showed her skinny ankles while her brown tunic signifying she was a child with still a few years of innocence left whom was to be spared from the full amount of punishment for being caught lying hung around her loosely for this shirt was supposed to last a few more years before she was allowed to wear anything that clearly stated that she was a lady ready to take on the full consequences of her actions. But Maghita never really cared about what she wore, just the well-being of everyone around her.

“What do you mean? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen water flow downhill before.” A little glint in his eyes and a quirk along his lips showed that he was joking about the last part. Joking had become the only exception to lying because everyone agreed that laughter was essential in a person’s life and usually nothing was meant by them. But the more severe a joke became, the more careful one had to be about how and whom they said it to.

She rolled her eyes and wondered, how old is he, I mean Ulric, really? Honestly, he acts just like the teens in Kamri. Then her mind began to fight back. But he’s killed a person, I don’t think any of the sixteen-year-olds at home could say the same. They also can’t use magic either.

"I meant the color-changing trick. The water, it looks so… pure." Maghita began to look back and forth between the creek and Ulric. Now she could see parts of the weir looking less violent and a little more fluid, like the water. His eyes and arms seem to soften and relax as one simple action.

He nodded slowly and replied, "Oh, that. Have you heard of the language Pyraerterlo at all from Satir?" Maghita shook her head no, as Ulric seemed to expect that as a response. "Okay, well, I guess I might as well tell you everything so you'll understand it all.

"Alright, I knew Satir for all of my life because she was the healer in my home, or at least for my mother. But my mother had been frail even before I was born and soon died after my birth. In her final moments she asked Satir to watch over me for as long as she possibly could." Maghita originally thought it odd to think weir to be born, then realized how human Ulric acted at times. Maybe there wasn't as much difference between them as she had been taught to believe, except the fact that the Weir ruled over humans through fear.

"At first, Satir sought to raise me in her own home, in Kamri, because she thought so highly of my mother, but my father, whom neither women agreed with, demanded that I be raised in his home where he could have influence over me. Satir managed to stand his presence for about five years, when the two had a fight that made thunderstorms look like sunny days." Ulric paused, glancing at her to see her reaction at his recollection of his past. As soon as she saw him look at her, Maghita nodded her head in anticipation for the rest of the story.

Ulric smiled grimly, half-amused that the girl appeared to have in a way forgotten that the healer had died only that morning. "Anyway, during those five years Satir had been meeting a girl in secret, and one day she introduced me to her. The only thing was they both refused to reveal to me her name, as it was already dangerous for her to be there, and the less I knew, the less trouble I could get in. Either way, she looked human, but she always seemed to be sixteen when she visited. She had wild wheat-gold hair, kind green eyes, and an uncontrollable need smile.

"She was the one to teach Satir and me bits and pieces of Pyraerterlo, which, she said actually had been used here a long time ago. The town Kamri is a good example. It originally means forgiveness, but nobody knows that anymore. The other example is weir. It's the word for "one of the water." That explains not only the "water trick," but also my blue skin, and my ability to give life or take it away so easily."

Maghita could almost see the pieces of the puzzle fit together. Maybe that's why everybody likes to come to our town, they say there have been more disappearances each year everywhere else. Nobody's gone missing in our town since, since, then. A veil of sadness fell over the child's eyes as she remembered the last person to be taken away from Kamri, and everyone knew it had been by the weir. And everyone knew of what he had done to deserve it.

Ulric noticed her change in mood, but did not know how to help her. What if she can't take all of this at once? Actually, she doesn't need to, not all of it, not yet.

The sun had finally set, leaving only a few more strands of light left. Already the two of them were yawning, and neither one were willing to trust the dark fully. However, this gave Ulric an idea for trying to slowly tell her of what he wanted her to know before they arrived at their destination.

He coughed a few times to get her attention and gently smiled. "Other than teaching me of that language, the girl that Satir was meeting taught me several, more useful things." He lifted his right hand, palm up, and in a few seconds flames arose from his hand.

As before, Maghita flinched at the immediate life of the fire. "She taught you magic?" Then another thought came into mind. "Wait a minute, if you're a being of the water, then how are you able to use fire as easily? Wouldn't you have trouble with fire?"

The weir laughed. It caught Maghita off guard and she jumped a few inches back, thinking at first, that he had gone into some strange fit of some sort. But it had been short, light, and actually resembled the way the young men in her village laughed when one of their friends finally caught onto the idea of a joke. She realized she was becoming homesick, and she hadn't been gone an entire day.

Ulric's smile had widened some and he replied, "Yes, I was waiting for you to ask that. Yes she did teach me magic, at least more than I already knew. Here's the thing, and these are her exact words, 'Everyone has one element that they feel the most natural with. But, most everyone has a second element that they also feel comfortable using without thought. Most of the common elements are: water, fire, wind, earth, and yes, ice is very different an element compared to water. One last thing, the combinations of the two elements a person uses often represents their personality, and that's why most crazy people like to play with fire.' I was shocked to find out that she didn't like using fire."

Now that left Maghita with a grin, and as she stared into the flames he was tossing back and forth through his hands she asked, "So, are you insane then, too?" She didn't understand how the two of them were able to smile on the day of Satir's death. Or even be able to talk like old friends trying to reacquaint themselves when he was a weir that had the power to kill her in a second, and no one would say a thing in her defense.

"I leave the insanity in my family to my father. I really don't think you want to meet him." She gave him a look, trying to ask him why without actually saying it. "Well, he's… he's the most violent form of water. He's the ocean where there's a hurricane going on every few days and the pattern is so random and so deadly, it's safer to just stay away from him entirely."

Maghita had frozen. She had heard of oceans before, about their saltiness, and how you could be in the center of one and never find land for months trying to get out of one without any navigational skills and bad luck. It was enough water to quench every person' s thirst, but it had such a high salt content that it would dehydrate a person instead of re-hydrating them.

She had also heard of hurricanes from the traders in Kamri. They were these vicious wind and water storms that could take down trees and flood an entire town in one night, and if the people caught in the middle of it weren't careful, they too would be diminished by the tempest's power. All in all, Maghita had come to agree she would not enjoy meting someone so deadly.

"I'm guessing you take after your mother then, providing you're not as much of an aggressive person compared to your father?" she didn't know if he would take her question seriously or not, because somehow the question hadn't come out entirely the way she wanted it to.

Fortunately Ulric understood her. "In all truth I think I take mostly after Satir. I never really knew my mother, my father usually was off, doing what he believed to be his duty, and the girl without a name was there only a few times a year. Most of the time Satir kept me by her side until she left, and even then she would visit at least once a year. Otherwise I was stuck with the servants but they were always too afraid to talk to me." He stopped tossing the fire, and gazed deep into it. The flame burned red at its core and on the edges shone a brilliant sky blue.

Neither the sun nor its light could be seen anymore, and there was no protection around them from the wind that tended to act up in the middle of the night. Maghita was already a little chilly from the drop in the temperature of the air, and was beginning to visibly shiver. But as far as Maghita could see, there was nothing she could do about it.

Ulric, on the other hand, hardly felt the chilling night air because his skin was thicker than a human's, and because of the fire he was still playing with in his hands. Still, he did see that the girl's lip was starting to quiver, and her arms swiftly followed suit, causing her whole body to shake from the cold.

And because there was something about the girl that sat in front of him, some connection beyond knowing Satir, that made him feel responsible for her life. "Here," he started and paused, placing the fire ball in his right hand. Next, his left reached over the creek, and following his lead, the water in the creek drenched a ring on the ground in between the two, with a dry spot in the center.

"This should keep you warm for a little while." He put the flames in the ring, and although Maghita saw his lips move, she couldn't tell what exactly he had spoken. But, as his lips came to a halt, the fire grew until it hit its soaked boundaries and burned strictly red.

Ulric looked intently at Maghita watching her reaction to this recent addition to what she now new he could pull off. At first he could see that she was frightened, afraid that the fire wouldn't stop where the water had fallen onto the grass. Then, finally her face glowed with gratefulness at the warmth of the red light.

Maghita looked back at him and smiled bashfully. He just nodded, laid down on the hard earth, and closed his eyes. She got the idea, that all conversation would be left to the morning and laid down facing the fire. Before she fully fell asleep, she quietly squeaked out one last word to Ulric. "Thanks." He just smiled and fell asleep.
 
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