Dance with the devil

Tabitha Mai Fallamhàin a young woman of known beauty and grace. Though she lived on a farm, cared for horses, raised and bred them, the outside life had not tarnished her beauty. Perhaps it has even added to it. Her golden hair shone like it was made of pure gold when the sunrays touched it. Her Amber eyes were warm and radiant.
It was one day a stranger from outside the community had come to the ranch, bartering with Tabitha’s father for a horse. The man seemed exotic, even if he seemed like them, something was off. Perhaps how he carried himself.
Tabitha had caught the eye of this stranger, Tabitha had not taken her eyes of him either.
When the bartering was done and a horse was bought she moved back to her own tasks knowing there was little chance she would again see this stranger.
It was only a day later that the man returned with the horse. He rode up to Tabitha, with worry she asked if there was something amiss with the horse. The man spoke calmly how he had advice from Tabitha’s father, but he would have some advice from the expert who daily worked with the horses.
Tabitha was charmed at the recognition of her skills and spend a while to give the man some grooming, caring and riding advice.
When the afternoon ended and the evening neared, Tabitha was ready to go home, the man stopped her with an offer. He would bring her gold as radiant as her hair, if they could spend some more time together. Tabitha declined, she had no use for gold. She had all she wanted.
The man offered Tabitha a house for her own, where she would rule her own and no one could tell her what to do. Tabitha declined the offer she was happy with her family which she loved.
The man offered Tabitha servants in that house, to fulfill her every wish by just a call. Tabitha declined this as well. She was happy to work herself and with her hands.
The man offered to show Tabitha the outside, not just this community, but beyond seas and worlds. Tabitha hesitated, to see more, to fulfill her curiosity was sounding very tempting.
She asked the man to tell more of the worlds outside.
So they talked, for hours and hours. Tabitha was amazed by the stories and enthralled in the adventures. They talked to deep into the night, in the attic of the barn. On the blanket they lay in the hay where they later fell asleep entangled in each other’s arms.
The morning after, Tabitha woke and saw what struck fear in her heart. The man was not of her kind, he was some stranger. She pushed herself away and ran to the house.
Not short after the father and brothers of Tabitha came for the man. But he had made himself scares quick. Knowing trouble was brewing.
Tabitha distraught with the betrayal of this man pleaded forgiveness with the clergy and with her parents. But she had entangled herself with a devil. She was cast out.
For a few months Tabitha lived in a hut on the outskirts of the community, she managed, she was not scared of living alone or caring for herself.
But in those few months she had learned, the devil had planted his seed inside of her and it was growing into a devil child. At the gates of the community she pleaded and begged to speak with one of the clergy. She explained that if she gave birth of this devil child outside she feared to let loose the evil and did not want to make matters worse.
The clergy was understanding and took Tabitha into a convent. There she gave birth to a golden haired, amber eyed baby girl. The baby was immediately taken away, brought to another convent deeply hidden away in the forests. So, the child could be cleansed of the devil. And not infect another.

That is where my story begins.

The name they gave me is Soliana, I have been raised in the convent. Though raising might be a big word. I have been fed, clothed and was given a place to sleep. My days consisted of chores the moment I could walk and pick things up.
Labor cleanses the person, that was always said. When the sun was in the highest point of the day, I had to perform the cleansing, everyday without fail. No matter if I was sick, weak or incapable of standing.
My torso was bared and exposed to the sun, The sisters hit me with canes or strands. To chase the devil out they said. The sunrays could reach inside this way.
I only remember the pain and the fear. When I was older and I had behaved so well, the sisters allowed me to do some chores outside the walls. We were often visited by travelers who came for supplies, for aid. Or a place to rest.
At one time an army of sorts passed through, they had fought. They were rowdy and loud. The sisters told me that I should be kind and caring to everyone that walked the sun. We cared for their wounded we fed them. We brought them our homemade mead. It was one of the specialties of this convent. The land around the building were fields of flowers of all sorts. The bees in their areas made the sweetest or spiciest honey. With that we made strong and tasteful mead.
Or so I am told. I am not allowed to drink. It might tempt the devil.
When a group of the men drank and talked they praised the mead. Saying things like their commander was right and this was a fantastic spot to camp. That their commander had praised the mead and the women here.
I sought nothing after it, even if we had not many fighting groups that passed through these parts it could be any. Until I heard the story of my mother. Though from the side of the man. The stranger.
Perhaps the sisters were right, and the devil was in me, but I felt an anger, a hate boiling. With pleasant manners I asked the men of the story, perhaps one would know the people n the story. They told me again, a knot in my stomach formed. I had to bite my tongue so hard I tasted the blood.
I asked if the man from that story was also here. They said he wasn’t, the general had moved ahead. I asked the men to describe this man. They perhaps thought me of a foolish girl swooning over the story of such a rogue. They gave me a description and later even a small drawing of this man. I thanked them, gave them another basket with bottles and moved back to my cell.
Staring at this picture I imprinted it in my mind. Needing to remember it if it was ever taken away by the sisters.
I would find this man, I decided there and then, I will find this man and place revenge on him for my mother, for myself. For him it must have been a game, but my mother died in shame and alone. I have never seen her, but due to her I still live. It is my responsibility to continue for my mother.
It was not hard. The company of men left. And I followed. I had taken supplies and just needed to follow them long enough to be out of reach of the convent. From there I would find my own way. Had I any idea where to go. No. The sun will guide me. I had overheard some men talking about a jeweled road. That it would lead to anywhere. That was a start.
On I went. And the jeweled road I found. I worked some caravans to care for the animals or cook. At least that was a skill I was good at and often welcome on travels.
From the jeweled road I went with a caravan to a dock. They offered me to work there to clean, to cook. I took the job, thinking that by sea I would find new clues.
There were not many women on the ship and the men were not keen on personal space.
One of the women on the ship saw me struggling she took me under her wing and taught me to fight. I might not be strong. But I am flexible, fast and vicious. Or that is how she described me. She taught me to use my nails. All in my kind have extendable nails. They get curved and are quite strong.
By now I had learned that my kind of people was not the only kind.
For a while I had given up on my search. Well not given up, I had not found any news or clues, so I would just make sure I survived and made a life of myself while hoping to find new clues.
Working from ship to ship. Now and then seeing familiar people. I had made a sailor of myself that no man or woman dared to touch. There are some still with scars on their cheeks of my rejection.
When I started to work on a new ship with new crew I would eventually ask again if they knew this person I had a picture of. And luck had it. One day another showed me a picture. It had a signature even. They said that is what those royals do if you ask politely. Collect signatures with the pictures.
I saw the man that doomed my mom. I asked the sailor with the deck where he collected that signature he told me Amber port. This man often frequents a bar there. Since it is one of our stops there is a chance I could get a deck myself and ask for a signature.
It sounded like a marvelous plan.
We arrived at Amber docks. I found the place that sold these decks of cards. What a silly thing to do. But fine it would possibly get me close to this man.
I waited and waited. I let the ship sail away knowing I would find my target here. I had saved up enough coin to survive for a bit.
A week went by, the man came indeed to the bar the sailor had said. Observing him drinking. Waiting till he got enough in his system that would intoxicate a man of his size. I had experience enough of measuring that by observing sailors.
The time came to strike. With a pleasant and meek smile I approached the man. Not making eye contact. I held out the cards with his on top. It was a mistake I made I looked up. He recognized something. He hesitated. It was now or never. I lunged towards the man with knives in both hands. I doubt I even made a scratch before they knocked me down.

I failed. Sorry mom.