Arrianna - Part One

Now we move onto establishing the third and last young "hero" that this story revolves around. Meet Arrianna.

Far to the north, beneath the imposing, snow-capped jagged peaks of the Azmoress mountain ranges, a young woman hurled a precious gold-embossed scroll at the back of a wooden door. Breathing rapidly, she paused, her hands clenched in the air before her as if to fight off unseen attackers. She waited for the old woman to return and punish her, but the door remained closed. The object of her ire, the old crone called Neath, had obviously left for some unknown errand in the secretive complex called the House of Testing.

Eventually she stormed over to the abused scroll, picked it up and inspected the covering and pages. Luckily, it was unmarred. If she’d damaged the scroll in any way, they likely would have sent her off to the penitent cells as punishment. As the scroll was ancient and priceless, no doubt her punishment time would be adjusted to suit, and she would likely emerge as an ancient crone herself. She should have felt relieved, but instead the undamaged scroll seemed to mock her, feeding her anger. Taking a deep breath, she nonetheless walked across and carefully slid the scroll into its slot in the bookcase.

She was furious! Seven days she had been here! How dare they treat her in such a manner? Arrianna walked across the bear-pelt rug in the center of the small room and sat in the only chair. She picked up a brush and began to run it through her unruly red hair. Normally a soothing routine, the brush became hopelessly entangled after the fifth stroke - which did nothing to ease her temper. She left it there, the handle hanging down one side of her face like some grotesque ear adornment, and hunched down over her knees and covered her face with her hands.

She was not going to cry. She would not…!

Was it only one week ago that her life had been so normal? It felt like much longer - years, maybe. As the daughter of a city Councillor, Arrianna had wanted for nothing her entire life. She had lived in Denthis, the third-city of Azmoress. Her home had been on Tier One, and none had lived above her family. Her mother was the Councillor for Denthis. In the last year, the Governing Council for all of Azmoress had offered her mother a seat on their coveted Council - albeit serving in a junior role, but that would not last long, Arrianna was certain. Her father was also important; he was someone. In every city was his technical advice sought. He was amongst the most pre-eminent of Engineers called for any new drilling and mining expedition within the length and breadth of the vast mountain ranges of Azmoress. Even her grandsire, who in his day had been just a warrior, had at least retired with many honors to the family name, a Hero of the Azmorae.

Yet here she sat, alone, and being treated as if she was just a no-body. Worse, just an ordinary, everyday person, like the cleaner who would attend to the upkeep of her family’s home, or her minder (as her parents were often away from home for long periods) or the nameless person that had emptied her chamber pot in her bedroom. Now she had to attend to that disgusting task herself - with her own hands! It just wasn't fair.

Arrianna sat up straight, freed the brush, and continued working on her hair. Back at home, she had had spans of expensive, reflective glass in her bedroom but in this place all she had been allowed was a small square mirror not much larger than her own small hand. She studied her face as she brushed out the knots and curls but saw nothing different in her appearance. She had the same narrow face that tapered down to the point of her chin and a small, thin-lipped mouth. Her mother said she looked aristocratic. Her large eyes were her best feature, she had always thought. The left was blue, as with most Azmorae, but the right was a light brown, almost golden. Her father called it heterochromia or something strange like that and said it was a slight birth defect (and he would cross his arms and study her, a frown on his face, as if she was just another engineering problem he might solve). Her mother refused to notice at all; but her grandsire said it meant the Gods had marked her for some great deed. Arrianna had always liked her grandsire. She was tall for her race, with long willowy limbs, and a rather flat chest. She once asked her mother (on the rare occasion both her parents had been home at the same time) if she would grow any bigger in that regard, but her mother had snapped at her; no daughter of hers was going to be a big-breasted milk sow. Arrianna always secretly believed her chest was her true birth defect. She didn't mind being taller than nearly everyone around, however. It felt right that she should be looking straight over all their heads; not that she was often in large crowds. Unlike in the lower Tiers where the common sweaty masses lived, Tier One was sparsely populated and she’d had all the room to move when growing up. Overall, she reflected, she was the exact same person she had always been…yet her entire life had been turned upside down.

Everything changed after her seventeenth birthday.

Reviews

[JR Darewood]

You have a strong sense of voice, and that shows clearly in Arrianna. I'm partial to redheads, and I love being inside her ridiculous head.
I love the technological sophistication you've revealed in this chapter, I'm excited to read more, and I'm excited to see what trials you have in store for our easily ruffled stuck up heroine.