I Am Lightning
Lord Martin
Eventually, the guards let me through. They don’t really have much choice. I asked to see Lord Martin, and although my body is that of a girl of fifteen, long dark hair with a bluish tinge, small, lithe figure... the guards were put off by my sunshine yellow eyes and scars. If I didn’t have scars, they’d still be just as reluctant, because everyone always assumes, thanks to my eyes, that I’m some sort of mage. Everyone at the mage’s college, bar the knights guarding them, have glowing magenta eyes. Their eyes change to that colour at around the time they start to change into a man or a woman. So around about my age, really. My physical age, that is. Then they’re ripped away from their families and friends and taken to the Mage College where they’ll stay for the rest of their lives.
Except one.
King Edmund has his own pet magician. I’ve seen the fellow, and he’s quite strange. He’s tall and thin and his magenta eyes are something out of this world. But its the way he stoops and uses his arms as though they’re half their actual size that gets to me. He just seems overall creepy. I’m sure the other mages aren’t like that. In fact I know the other mages aren’t like that.
But the guards here have to let me in. I cannot be denied. I am a guest, I say, from foreign lands, here to deliver a message to Lord Martin from my own Lord. While this is clearly a lie, they don’t know that. And so, they let me in, followed by a page they have summoned to announce me.
The entrance hall is delightful. The high ceiling makes the large room seem almost twice as big, with a balcony above running all the way around where guards patrol, crossbows at their backs. Blue banners with silver insignia and the symbol of Alter City, the wildcat, decorate every wall. Tables are scattered about the edges of the room, and the centre is like a path leading towards the raised dais where Lord Martin sits. I can hear birds singing sweetly from outside in a high-up window, and the smell of sweet fruits and thick meats wafts from a table up near the Lord. Men bustle around, going about various duties. I close my eyes for a brief moment and allow my senses to identify every person in the room, seeing them as a blazing mass of charged-up current in otherwise greyness. I open my eyes again and know the movements of every man here. Satisfied that now, no-one can sneak up on me, I walk with the page drifting behind me up towards the Lord. I stop when I reach the stairs and allow the page to stand in front of me and announce me.
“Lord Martin, a stranger from a faraway land is here to greet you. I present to you the traveller Fulgora.”
The page bows and stumbles away. I see him in my mind as an agitated mass of current, brighter in the grey landscape than anyone else as he rushes away. I then focus upon Lord Martin.
The Lord sits easily in his chair, a chin upon his fist as he studies me. Unlike most others, he has not jumped back in shock, but then again I am supposedly from a ‘faraway land’. To me, the lord is made of a lazy string of current that surges through his body with a more gentle strength. I know him to be most calm, and this amuses me. If he knew what I were capable of, he would not sit there so. But I’m actually quite glad that he’s not recoiling from me. Everyone else in the room has turned to stare. I can feel the position of their bodies, and all are facing me. The silence that has settled in the room is enough for me to know this anyway. Let alone the many pairs of brown eyes staring at me.
Oh, did I forget to mention that? Everyone has brown eyes, except the mages and myself. That’s why we’re so much more of an oddity. I wait for Lord Martin to say something (I know I’m supposed to bow here, but to me, this is laughable. Every person in this room would bow to me if they knew who and what I was) and rest my right hand instead on my belt of my black pants. Another oddity there- girls are supposed to wear dresses. Sudden, vivid memories of me wearing a yellow dress on my day of coronation come back to me, and I shudder and suppress the memory. Lord Martin clears his throat.
Except one.
King Edmund has his own pet magician. I’ve seen the fellow, and he’s quite strange. He’s tall and thin and his magenta eyes are something out of this world. But its the way he stoops and uses his arms as though they’re half their actual size that gets to me. He just seems overall creepy. I’m sure the other mages aren’t like that. In fact I know the other mages aren’t like that.
But the guards here have to let me in. I cannot be denied. I am a guest, I say, from foreign lands, here to deliver a message to Lord Martin from my own Lord. While this is clearly a lie, they don’t know that. And so, they let me in, followed by a page they have summoned to announce me.
The entrance hall is delightful. The high ceiling makes the large room seem almost twice as big, with a balcony above running all the way around where guards patrol, crossbows at their backs. Blue banners with silver insignia and the symbol of Alter City, the wildcat, decorate every wall. Tables are scattered about the edges of the room, and the centre is like a path leading towards the raised dais where Lord Martin sits. I can hear birds singing sweetly from outside in a high-up window, and the smell of sweet fruits and thick meats wafts from a table up near the Lord. Men bustle around, going about various duties. I close my eyes for a brief moment and allow my senses to identify every person in the room, seeing them as a blazing mass of charged-up current in otherwise greyness. I open my eyes again and know the movements of every man here. Satisfied that now, no-one can sneak up on me, I walk with the page drifting behind me up towards the Lord. I stop when I reach the stairs and allow the page to stand in front of me and announce me.
“Lord Martin, a stranger from a faraway land is here to greet you. I present to you the traveller Fulgora.”
The page bows and stumbles away. I see him in my mind as an agitated mass of current, brighter in the grey landscape than anyone else as he rushes away. I then focus upon Lord Martin.
The Lord sits easily in his chair, a chin upon his fist as he studies me. Unlike most others, he has not jumped back in shock, but then again I am supposedly from a ‘faraway land’. To me, the lord is made of a lazy string of current that surges through his body with a more gentle strength. I know him to be most calm, and this amuses me. If he knew what I were capable of, he would not sit there so. But I’m actually quite glad that he’s not recoiling from me. Everyone else in the room has turned to stare. I can feel the position of their bodies, and all are facing me. The silence that has settled in the room is enough for me to know this anyway. Let alone the many pairs of brown eyes staring at me.
Oh, did I forget to mention that? Everyone has brown eyes, except the mages and myself. That’s why we’re so much more of an oddity. I wait for Lord Martin to say something (I know I’m supposed to bow here, but to me, this is laughable. Every person in this room would bow to me if they knew who and what I was) and rest my right hand instead on my belt of my black pants. Another oddity there- girls are supposed to wear dresses. Sudden, vivid memories of me wearing a yellow dress on my day of coronation come back to me, and I shudder and suppress the memory. Lord Martin clears his throat.
♠ ♠ ♠
I wonder what Lord Martin has to say? XD