NaNoWriMo '08

Shane stared out the window. It was raining outside again. The sky was an indefinite shade of grey, the clouds so large that he could not determine where one ended and where another began. There had to be more than just one giant cloud. Or maybe not. Maybe there was only one giant cloud that covered the entire sky as far as he could see, making the day gloomier than ever.

Shane glanced at the board, where the teacher was making notes on a diagram. Maybe it was a timeline. Yes, that must be it. He looked down at his own notepaper. There was a line on it, but not many notes. The odd date marked the line, and there was an arrow on the end. Definitely a timeline. He sighed and resumed staring out the window, at nothing in particular.
He was suddenly aware of a very still and tense silence in the classroom. He looked forward and found the teacher looking at him, whiteboard marker uncapped and poised in her hand, about to write on the board. Frantically he glanced around at his classmates but none offered support, only blank looks, waiting for him to answer. They were as bored as he was in this last class of the week.

“Um… I’m sorry, what was the question?” he asked, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment. Someone sniggered, and he did his best to look as though that didn’t affect him. He failed miserably.

“I asked when did the battle of Verdun occur?” Ms Fox repeated. She was a pretty enough teacher, young and eager. Shane thought she was wasting her time.

“During the First World War, in…” Shane wracked his mind for the exact date, “…in 1916…”

BRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNGGGGG!

‘Saved by the bell!’ Shane thought as the class scrambled to shove books and notebooks haphazardly into their bags, excited at the prospect of the weekend. Efforts on Ms Fox’s part to get them to settle down and assign homework were lost in the mad dash for the door.

Shane dashed out and hurried to his locker. He had work that afternoon, a small part-time job he picked up at the local newsagents in order to make a little extra money. He shoved his stuff in his bag, grabbed his raincoat and shrugged it on. As he headed out the door, he pulled his hood up.

It was definitely still raining.

It was also windy, something he hadn’t picked up in all his hour of staring out the window during history class. Shane squinted his eyes and looked down to avoid the stinging rain. It still pricked him in the face in a thousand places, driving him nuts. The wind tugged his hood back, toying with him, trying to get him as wet as possible.

He arrived at the bus stop just in time to see his bus disappear down the street. Wishing there was a proper bus shelter, he settled with his back to the wind and waited.

Fortunately, the next bus was not too long in coming, only ten minutes. But in just those ten minutes, Shane swore the rain increased to a complete downpour, as such that by the time the bus did pull up, he was thoroughly soaked. He flashed his bus card, nodded at the driver, and headed to the back of the bus. Shane flopped onto the seat as the bus lurched forward.

He stared out the window again. It seemed he did that a lot. Watched life go by.

The bus stopped several times on its route. An old lady with one of those plastic head covers and a large umbrella got on and sat near the front of the bus. Two young boys sat about halfway down the bus, each with a large, typical middle school backpack, and obviously in that awkward stage of pre-adolescence. One of the two’s voice was changing and it went high-pitched every once in a while. An older girl with long hair and glasses sat not too far from them. She put her small umbrella next to her and pulled out a book of her bag. Shane observed all of this without particularly noting anything.

Half an hour and a traffic jam later, Shane pushed the ‘Stop’ button in front of him, and made his way to the front of the bus as it pulled over.

“Thanks, have a good day,” he said to the bus driver, who maybe grunted in return. He pulled up his hood again and headed out in the rain that had still not abated. At least it wasn’t as windy anymore.

Shane breathed in the moist air, and headed towards his house. He would drop off his bag there first before heading down to the corner newsagents where he worked. As it was raining, he decided to walk through the park, which provided a shortcut to his backyard.

The air was possibly worse in the park than in the street. The trees trapped the rain and moisture between the canopy and the ground. It was like moving through a tropical forest, except it was cold instead of warm.

Shane walked on the path easily, letting his feet guide him home. He kept his eyes on his feet, trying to avoid puddles and slithers of mud caused by erosion. He was wearing Converse after all, and he didn’t want his feet to get wet, though they probably already were damp.

Suddenly, he noticed the rain stopped. Pushing his hood back, he put his hand out. Apart from the occasional big drop from the leaves above, mist was just floating in the air instead of being rain and pelting down. He breathed in deep – the grass smelt wonderful. Like after a spring shower, but… it was autumn, not spring.

Shane frowned and looked up. The trees were still there, but they seemed… different somehow. He glanced around and saw slabs of stone of varying shades of grey. Confused, he took a few steps forward, and suddenly realized what he was looking at. A graveyard. An old graveyard by the look of it. Many of the stones were slanted and nearly completely smooth, due to the wind and the rain. Some were speckled. Some were nearly as white as marble. Some were darker grey. Here and there though, was a recent tombstone. It was straight, the edges sharp, and Shane could see etchings that had to be words.

As he realized this, Shane also noticed the deathly silence. Noises of his hometown traffic and everyday life had disappeared. Suddenly, it seems his heart is insanely loud. Throbbing in his ears, it is as though absolutely anyone around could hear him.
Eyes wide, he looked around, wary, frightened, and worried. Where was he? The wind picked up, a very hard wind that rustled the leaves up from the ground and off the trees, throwing them in his face. The trees rustle, and it seems they’re talking to each other.

Tentatively, Shane took a couple steps forward, then stopped as a decidedly unpleasant feeling prickled between his shoulder blades. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen them. He feels watched. But who could be watching him? Shane took another couple steps forward then stopped again, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a ragged breath, trying to make it quiet. He couldn’t tell if he succeeded because his heart was beating so loudly.

But he was sure now. There was someone behind him in the trees. He heard the leaves rustle ever so slightly. But now, he just felt watched. It came from everywhere, not just between his shoulder blades. His entire body was tingling with anticipation and nervousness. Were there others? Who were they? Why were they watching him? Why was he here? Where was here? He had never seen anywhere remotely like the place he was near his house.

Suddenly, something hit his head. Hard. Shane was really scared now. He spun around but, of course, there was nothing and no one. The trees were silent, they guarded their secret well. Not a leaf rustled out of place. The wind had died again, and the silence returned to the graveyard. The mist had not dissipated either. Rather, it seemed to slowly thicken. Already, it seemed he did not distinguish the trees as easily as before.

Out of nowhere, another pebble struck his arm. He slapped the place, but there was nothing, and again, not a leaf out of place. A third pebble struck his leg, and a fourth his arm again. Something sharp pricked his neck. Shane slapped his hand to it, thinking to swat the mosquito away, and fell to the ground, all feeling suddenly gone from his limbs. He fell into a welcome abyss of darkness a moment later.


Anaëlle walked easily next to the horse that pulled one of the wagons containing merchandise. The horse was a good packhorse type kind – definitely not a racing horse. The caravan was not advancing very quickly, and she was taking the opportunity to stretch her legs before climbing back up on the wagon. They were on their way to a town named Nori Four-Ways. Situated at the joining of four much-used but not particularly important roads, it was an ideal place to settle for a few days and trade before moving on again.


Shane slowly came to in a dark place. He didn’t open his eyes just yet. Instead, he used his other senses. Bonds encircled his wrists and ankles. He was lying on something hard, but there was warmth coming from around him. He wriggled experimentally, and finally opened his eyes.

It was still quite dark in the wagon. Doors and shutters effectively shut out outside light, yet not so much that Shane was blind. He blinked a couple times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Bringing his wrists up to his face, he noted that it was rope that encircled them, not chains or duck tape as he was expecting. At that time, he also noticed he was gagged. A length of cloth was tied over his mouth. Again, not so tight as to hurt, but just enough to tell him that he was not considered an equal among his kidnappers. Far from it.

There were other humanoid shapes in the wagon with him. That was where the warmth was coming from – body warmth from being shut in an enclosed space for a while. Actually, Shane had no idea how long he was unconscious. It might have been minutes, hours, or maybe even days! Thinking about it, he realized it couldn’t have been days. His teeth would feel a lot scuzzier if it had been. Hours then. He settled back down on the floor of the wagon. There was nothing he could do for now. With a sinking, and slightly absurd, feeling, he realized he wouldn’t be earning any money today, or for a while for that matter, and that he wouldn’t be able to ask Sarah to the Snow Ball. Laying his head back down, he let himself be rocked by the motion of the wagon. Darkness soon took over again.


Shortly after midday, the caravan stopped to rest the horses. Anaëlle let Toram step down from the wagon seat, then hopped up to secure the reins to the hook beneath the seat. While he unhitched the horse and let it graze, Anaëlle ducked inside the wagon to retrieve the covered basket that contained some dried meat, bread, and apples. Everyone’s meal consisted of mostly the same food, unless one of them had the time to bake more than just bread. Then, they had some sweet cakes that were usually shared. As she picked up the basket, she looked over at the five young men and women that were lying on the floor of the wagon. Bound hand and foot, she knew they wouldn’t go anywhere, especially not with the sleeproot they had all been pricked with when they were captured.

“Sleep well my dears,” she said before ducking back out to meet Toram and Lith for the meal.


As she slipped out, Shane lifted his head cautiously and looked after in her direction. Strange as her accent was, he definitely understood what she said. Why she would say such a thing was a complete mystery to him, except that he had been out of it for most of his capture so far.


“They’re all still sleeping,” Anaëlle announced as she put the basket down on the wagon floor by the seat. Lith and Toram reached in to grab a piece of dried meat and bread.

“Good, good,” said Toram absentmindedly, “Hopefully they’ll fetch a pretty price at Nori Four-Ways. If not, we’ll just hang on to them until we reach Melusa. They’ll definitely sell there.”

Anaëlle nodded thoughtfully. Her family had been dealing in the servant trade for generations, and it was understood that she would continue when her father was ready to retire and leave their world for the next. She rubbed her arm as she finished her piece of bread, and pulled out a ripe yellow apple from the basket. Biting into it, she savored its tart flavor. Lith and Toram were quietly discussing prices they expected the prisoners would fetch. They were particularly interested in selling the boy from the other world. He was so different from the servants they were used to dealing with, they might keep him out of sight until they reached Melusa. Then they might try to deal with a high-ranking noble or perhaps even a member of the royal family itself. A foreigner would certainly make an attractive addition to their household.

“Yes, we won’t show him at Nori Four-Ways,” Toram concluded as he stood, brushing crumbs off his breeches. He walked around the other wagons, clapping a man on his shoulder here, helping a young girl get on to the wagon there, and letting them all know that they weren’t too far from Nori Four-Ways now, and that it was time to go.

Anaëlle took their horse Lena, and hitched her back to their wagon. All the while she murmured soothingly, and was rewarded with a horsy nuzzle in the neck from the horse. By the time she finished doing that, Toram was up on the wagon seat and giving a hand to Lith to help her up.

“I’ll keep an eye on them inside,” she said as she climbed up and over the wagon seat. Easing the door open, she slipped inside.

Her eyes quickly adjusted to the sudden change of light. She lit a small lantern and secured it on a hook on the wall of the wagon where it wouldn’t fall if the wagon lurched.

“All good in here,” she told Toram, before shutting the door again.

Outside, Toram shouted and motioned for the caravan to follow him, as he shook the reins and Lena began to walk forward.

Inside the wagon, Anaëlle pulled out her book from a bag on the floor She tied back her long straight dark hair with a length of ribbon, and sat on one of the chairs. They were, of course, bolted down to the floor so they wouldn’t move when the wagon did. Accustomed as she was to the nomad life, since she had never lived any other way, the slight swaying of the wagon didn’t bother her in the slightest. Occasionally, she glanced at the prisoners on the floor.

They were all attractive of course. Rare was it that someone bought an unattractive servant. Who wants to be served by someone unpleasant to look at? She reviewed the five they had captured over the last three days. Three males and two females. The first male had very very pale skin, the color of marble. It shimmered faintly in the lamplight with the odd streak of blue and green running across it when the light caught it. From what she could see of his face, as it was mostly obscured by thick hair the color of straw, he had a strong jaw-line and delicate eyebrows. He was thin, a little too thin for her liking, and that could lower his price. Then again, maybe she could argue that this way, his owner could mold him to the perfect shape he or she desired. Anaëlle moved on to the two females.

They looked very alike, almost identical. Delicate features painted their faces, they had obviously been sheltered because their parents knew their worth as servants. Their skin shimmered with swirls of pink and green. Their faces were heart-shaped and very nice to look at. Of course she couldn’t see their eye color as they were sleeping, but she hoped it would be the same – green or perhaps grey. Their long, almost white, hair was loosely braided. She hoped to sell them together as a set, because twin servants were rare and valuable. Maybe she could convince her father to not show them until Melusa either.

Anaëlle turned her attention to the second male. His skin was a little darker than that of his companions, but not dark enough to rank and therefore keep him from the market. His hair was also darker, dark enough to call light brown. His eyes were undoubtedly brown as well. He had thick eyebrows and a slightly hooked nose, which, in Anaëlle’s opinion, made him look quite ugly, but Toram had insisted they take him along.


All her prisoners came from the lower end of the Hierarchy of Color that ruled the world, above even kings and queens. Anaëlle glanced at her own skin, unintentionally. Oh it was dark alright, but it had a pearly sheen rather than a dark glimmer. The same as the other members of the caravan. The light reflection lowered them in the Hierarchy, despite their otherwise dark coloring. For this reason, they never completely fit in in any of the cities. For that reason, they were condemned to be nomads. Not that Anaëlle didn’t enjoy her life, she just wished she could be a little more normal. Have friends other than those she had spent her entire life with. Maybe meet a young man who would sweep her off her feet.

She shook herself out of her daydream and turned her attention back to her book, but her eyes were inexorably drawn to the foreigner.

He was tall, with soft matte light brown skin. His hair reflected reddish in the lamplight, and was longish, nearly shoulder-length. Unlike the others, he had no swirls or streaks of shimmers across his skin, it remained stubbornly one uniform color. His eyebrows were bold but not too bold, his nose strong but not overwhelming, and his lips looked like soft petals. She knew his eyes were grey. She had seen them in the instant before the sleeproot took hold of him at the moment of his capture. She lingered on his form, then stumbled on her seat as the wagon lurched over a dip in the road.


Shane’s eyes flew open as the floor beneath him suddenly lurched away from him and he slid around, bumping into the others. He immediately noticed it was lighter in the wagon – he could see shelves on the wall opposite him, shuttered tight, with what were undoubtedly cups and plates rattling behind them. Laying still, he glanced around, trying to glean what was going on from his surroundings. He shut his eyes again as he came upon a pair of booted feet.


Anaëlle was sitting easily with her feet planted on the ground to avoid being jerked around too much. Her skirts were divided to make for easier walking and riding. She tried to concentrate on her book, but her eyes kept wandering over to the foreigner.


Shane squinted to try and get a look at his captor. Tilting his head back ever so slowly, he looked through lidded eyes. He saw the boots again, brushed across the tops by a long dark skirt. Traveling upwards, he came across a bodice, also encased in dark material, and two arms holding a book. The face of his captor was partially obscured by the book, but he clearly saw her dark skin, her long dark hair falling down her back with a few strands over her shoulder.


Anaëlle sighed as she read the same sentence for the third time. Her eyes traveled to the foreigner for the umpteenth time. But this time they stayed glued there and widened in shock. He was awake, and looking back.


Shane felt a suppressed shiver run through his body as he locked eyes with his captor. She had the clearest eyes he had ever seen, emphasized by her dark skin. For the longest time, they just stared at each other. He was half-paralyzed with fear, as he had no idea what she might do to him.

“So you are awake,” she finally spoke in a harsh accent that emphasized consonants and drowned vowels. “You are not supposed wake until we arrive.”

Shane was startled. Well excuse-me, he thought, I’ll just go back to sleep then.

“Mm mmm?” He tried to ask lamely. Yeah, fat chance she was going to answer that.

“You have been captured by us, the Al’Seâr clan of the Do’vram. We are merchants. You are going to be sold as a servant, probably to a high-ranking noble. You should be honored,” she answered, marking her page and setting the book back in her bag. She stood, took a few steps towards him, and squatted down. From this close, Shane felt almost overwhelmed by her beauty. Her clear eyes were blue, and almond-shaped. She had high cheekbones, a lovely plump mouth that seemed to invite kisses, and her long eyebrows curved, accentuating the shape of her eyes. She reached down and pulled the gag down around his neck.

“But, but… why?” Shane was so confused. Nothing in all of his eighteen years had prepared him for anything remotely like this.

She looked amused, “Because you are lighter. Light enough that if you are under twenty summers, you are eligible to become a servant.” She took his chin in hand and observed him for a moment, before standing. She walked over to where her bag lay, and pulled out a small skin that appeared to be full of liquid. Unstoppering it, she walked back to him, and once again took his chin in hand.

“Drink,” she ordered, and pushed the nozzle into his mouth. Shane had no choice but to drink. Besides, there wasn’t much he could do, bound in a wagon full of sleeping strangers and his captor. Not to mention the rest of the caravan outside.

“What… what is your name?” He asked, in the last moment before fading into darkness.

“Anaëlle,” she answered, with a twinge of amusement in her voice.

The world went dark as his head was gently set on the floor.


Anaëlle pulled up the gag again. She had no qualms with touching one so far below her, yet that short interaction left her weak in the knees. Who was he indeed? And where had he come from?

She was startled from her musings as Lith made her way inside.

“Still buried in that book?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Uh, yes, absolutely. Something about it is just so… captivating.” Anaëlle answered. She wanted to smack herself on the head. What a dumb answer.

“Well so long as it doesn’t keep you from watching over them,” Lith said as she eased herself in one of the chairs and leaned back, putting a hand over her bulging belly.

“Oh no, of course not. The slightest movement would catch my eye,” Anaëlle assured her, feeling increasingly annoyed. Lith was not her mother, and besides, Anaëlle was old enough to know her duties, how to carry them out, as well as her own limits.

“Good,” Lith murmured as she shut her eyes and rested, letting the motion of the wagon rock her to a dozing state.

Anaëlle rolled her eyes and focused on her book again.

And so the afternoon passed uneventfully.


By the time Toram finally called for a halt, Anaëlle had had to dose all of the prisoners with sleeproot to ensure they would continue to doze through the night. Stretching, she refilled the lamp with oil so that she and Toram could see as they took turns watching the prisoners. Lith came in, stretched, and proceeded to change into her nightclothes. Anaëlle unhooked the bed from the side of the wagon and turned down the covers for her, then helped her into bed. Her belly made it difficult for her to move easily.

Wanting nothing but to be in bed, Anaëlle checked the bindings on the prisoners, and then went outside to help Toram and the others set up pickets for the horses. She took Lena’s reins and rubbed her down while the men set up the pickets. She murmured softly to the horse while she rubbed her down, saying that she was such a good girl. She knew it was foolish, that the horse couldn’t understand her, but it made her feel better nonetheless.

“Hello there,” said someone, startling Anaëlle from her reverie. She turned and came face to face with Zane, one of the few others in the caravan that was her age.

“Oh, hello,” she replied softly, turning to rub Lena down all the harder, though the horse really didn’t need it.

“How are you? Haven’t seen much of you lately,” he persisted. Anaëlle glanced at him quickly.

“I’ve been busy,” she replied shortly.

“Yes I heard you help capture five Lights. Surely they don’t require all your time do they? I mean, they’re out with sleeproot!”

Anaëlle suppressed a sigh, “Yes, but they still need to be watched, in case the sleeproot doesn’t affect them as much as it should.” She bit her tongue to refrain from giving anything more away.

Zane slipped an arm around her waist, “Why don’t you take the night off and spend some time with me?”

“Let go of me!” Anaëlle hit him with Lena’s brush, and pushed herself away from him, “I will not have you dishonor me, nor keep me from my duties.”

“Ah Anaëlle, Anaëlle… You know you will eventually,” Zane smirked before sauntering off to the wagon he shared with his parents, two younger sisters and baby brother.

Anaëlle felt her face flush. Zane had been coming after her for a good year and a half, and still she pushed him away. Did he not understand that she was not interested?! Men! She sighed angrily, and was then startled to find the image of the foreigner she had captured floating in her mind. She chased him away, but he kept coming back, as persistent as Zane. His grey eyes haunted her. He had seemed so afraid and unafraid at the same time, so much older than his eighteen summers, and… Anaëlle found herself blushing. She found him attractive! Despite his lightness, his features beckoned her.

Startled, she stopped rubbing down Lena. She took the reins and guided her to the end of the picket fence and allowed her to munch oats from the makeshift feeding trough, before walking her to a nearby stream to allow her to drink. Anaëlle then returned to the picket fence and tied Lena securely. There, she forced herself to concentrate on correctly tying the horse to the fence. It would not do for Lena to wander off in the middle of the night.

Anaëlle returned to the wagon. Toram was there, lying besides Lith and watching her. Averting her eyes, she checked the prisoners were all in semi-comfortable positions, and still sleeping. She then returned to her seat and began reading.

Within a few minutes, Toram got up and sat beside her.

“Go get some sleep, I’ll take the first shift,” he said.

Anaëlle looked up, “Oh no Father, go ahead and sleep a little. I’m fine, I’ll watch them for a couple hours, and then wake you.”

Toram smiled fondly, his white teeth contrasting sharply with his dark pearly skin, “You’re too good to me,” he said, lifting himself up and bending to kiss her cheek.

Anaëlle smiled, “Sleep well,” before turning to face the wall to allow him some privacy whilst he changed into his nightclothes. She heard him climb into bed besides Lith, and so she turned back to keep watch.

The two hours were interminable. Nothing interesting happened as she had half-hoped: the foreigner had not woken. In a way, she supposed it was best, with Toram in the room and up next for the watch. Though she did hope for his sake that he would stay asleep through Toram’s watch as well.

At the end of the shift, Anaëlle stretched her legs and went to shake Toram awake.

“Your turn Father,” she whispered, careful not to wake Lith up. Toram was up in a moment, pulling a shirt over his head.

“Sleep well Daughter,” he whispered, as he helped her let down the second, smaller bed above one of the prisoners, and steadied her as she climbed into it. Anaëlle snuggled under the covers, and was asleep within moments.


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What do you think? R&R please! :)