Bane of The Blessed
An excerpt from my WIP from the chapter titled: Forget Me Not
note: Habblings are what non magic folk are referred to as in this book.
She pushed harder and faster as she dashed around the last two corners, but before she could swerve around that final hurdle, she squeaked to a grinding halt. The screeching sound of rage and pain that pierced her ears sent her crumbling to the ground, hands clutching at the rough walls lining the alleyway, nails chipping and bleeding as they scraped down the jagged stone. Everything — every sound, every colour, and every touch faded into darkness until there was nothing else — nothing except the wailing cry, which rippled through the very foundations of the town, cobbles cracking as a wave of wailing gusts blasted towards her before abruptly exploding outwards. The wailing evolved rapidly; the pitch changing to a deeper growl, her despair shifting into blood-curdling fury. Clambering to her feet, Angie gripped the wall as she waited for her legs to stop trembling. Slowly, she brought her head up, bracing herself for the devastation she was about to see.
“Please don’t be what I think it is.”
“Please, oh great, Flidais and Danu, don’t be her”.
Window frames cracked and splintered outward as a sharp wind crashed through the streets, shattering into the sandy cream stone of the buildings; flowers lay strewn across the street; shards of plant pots shattered into fine red dust. Habblings huddled into corners, shaking with fear, their eyes swivelling around in dazed confusion as they tried to grasp what they were seeing. Immediately her mind was whirring with excuses, ways they could explain all the surrounding damage, when the inevitable letter arrived, declaring the guild a nuisance to the town. So how could they explain it? Maybe a surprise gust of wind that sent the hoards of shoppers sprawling, or backfire from the cannons the league had let loose. But then she looked around once again and realised there’s still one thing which could not be explained away.
Assessing the damage, Angie turned to the Habblings, her breathing steadying as she assessed their injuries. A few cuts and bruises, but nothing major.
“Good,” she sighed in relief.
But then she saw her. About five years old, she stood about ten feet away from Angie, peering around the corner that turned into the town square. Dressed in a dainty sunshine yellow dress with a tiny daisy bracelet wrapped around her wrist, she gripped the wall as she stretched up onto her tippy toes, straining to peek around the corner that held her attention with such intensity. The daisy bright and full of life, despite it being far too hot for such delicate blooms to survive.
“Huh, pretty sure I made that,” Angie muttered as she scurried attentively towards her and tapped her carefully on the shoulder.
The little one stumbled sharply and swivelled around, her eyes round with confusion, her hand wringing her soft linen dress.
“Oh, sorry, sunshine. I didn’t mean to scare you; I was just wondering what you were looking at,” reassured Angie.
Pretty Purple Ziggy Zags” squeaked the girl, pointing excitedly towards the courtyard around the other side of the wall.
Poking her head around the other side, Angie’s eyes glanced toward where the girl was pointing. She was desperately hoping that she wasn’t about to see what she suspected was there.
But nope, there it was in all its violet, sparky glory. There was no denying it. No excuses could cover up the truth. Once she saw it, Angie knew that no amount of begging would help the guild now. The entire courtyard was destroyed, pavement cracked in zig-zag patterns that were glowing with a vibrant violet pulsing as the magic surged through them, and in the centre stood an oak tree, or what used to be an oak tree; it looked more like a tree that had been pulled from a unicorn’s nightmares, flashing different shades of purple and pink, and the leaves that were now crispy and a silvery grey were floating down to the ground in slow, sweeping motions.
“Well, damn, I put a lot of work into that tree.”
The little girl swivelled to face Angie, standing tall with her head held high. She raised a tiny hand and thrust her little index finger right into Angie’s sternum, declaring awfully aggressively for such a small child, “Lady, you said, Damn, my mommy said…”
The sudden bravery soon wore off, though, as she took in the increasingly unimpressed expression spreading across Angie’s face. As her left eyebrow crept towards her hairline, her bottom lip turned slightly downwards while her top one twitched upwards in a twisted mix between a frown and a snicker, as though she couldn’t decide whether to be amused by the outspoken little missy or thoroughly incensed by her.
Angie put her hand up to grasp the little girls, which had become a lot less sturdy in its poking. After grasping it, she gently removed it from her chest, smirking as she replied, “Look, kid, we don’t have time to discuss my language right now, but if we survive whatever this is, I’ll fill your entire piggy bank with more Pigillins than you’ve ever seen.”
“Pigillins, the orange ones, right?” The girl exclaimed, her eyes practically glistening with ideas of all the things she could buy.
“They’re actually copper, but yes.”
“The yellow ones are prettier.”
“Builyns and they’re gold and the most expensive too, so you’ll have to settle for Pigillins and maybe one or two silver Dezals, but definitely no Builyns.”
“You’ll have to wait, though; after all, you won’t be getting any coins for your savings if the guild can’t sort this mess out first.”
Flicking the centre of the girl’s forehead, Angie brushed past her, slipping around the final corner and into the courtyard. The stubborn little miss immediately slipped from her mind, her focus back on the chaos escalating around her.
