Apple Seeds

Aurora felt a tingling in her fingers, and she could hear distant bells. Last she remembered, she was holding onto Jabez’s hand. She knew he would let go of her, but when his hand slipped, he looked... Sad? But why? Was she not his enemy?

Then more sensations returned. Sensations of blood flow, of breathing. Aurora gasped for air, desperate to cling onto life, but it also caused her to choke and cough.

“Lift her up!” said a stranger’s voice. “Her throat is constricting!”

“I’m on it!” said another.

Who... Is that? A woman’s voice? Is that you, mother?

Guiding hands moved her body and massaged her throat. Slowly but surely, she could breathe easy again.

“She seems stable now. Good job,” said another stranger.

When Aurora opened her eyes, she expected the flickering of flame in her home’s fireplace, or perhaps the candles of a church. Instead, she was in a dirty wooden shed with a mere shine crystal lantern in the corner, and the only window was covered by tattered curtains. Holding her up was an old forestmar woman with white and grey hair in a messy bun, and nearby was a bearded shortmar man. Heating a kettle with her own magic was a mountainmar girl. All of them wore metal collars and drab, dirty robes.

“Slaves?” Aurora finally spoke, her throat feeling parched. “Where am I? Where is your master?”

The forestmar looked to the shortmar, who shook his head.

“He’s... Away on a trip to Leonia,” said the old forestmar. “He found you at the edge of a river and told us to tend to you.”

“Oh, I see. That makes... Sense.” Aurora sat all the way up, and the forestmar moved away. The mountainmar girl eventually brought Aurora warm tea in a clay cup.

“Here, it’s not much, but this should sooth your throat.”

Aurora nodded to the girl, taking the cup. Drinking it down, the warmth of the tea brought feelings of life into her body while the herbal liquid soothed the pain within. She was surprised she was alive at all, given the nature of the poison that afflicted her. The Taluvuri poison Alech had coated his arrow with was meant to incapacitate and eventually kill even the most stalwart warriors. Originally made by alchemists for use against tuskmar, it sapped the strength from the body until there was nothing left to support life. The fact that she wasn’t a withered husk floating down a river was a miracle.

“How am I even alive?” Aurora muttered.

“We-I mean our master is a skilled doctor. He taught us about medicine so that we might assist him with menial tasks. As a consequence, we knew to apply the right tincture to stave off the poison,” said the forestmar.

“That and some well-placed healing magic to the back of your head,” said the shortmar.

“You three did good,” said Aurora. “You’re all assets to your master’s estate.”

“T-that is...” the forestmar was shaking. The shortmar put his hand on her shoulder.

“What she’s trying to say is thank you.”

“When will your master return? I’d like to thank him properly,” said Aurora.

“He’s... Going to be gone for a while,” said the shortmar. “Big celebration in Leonia, yes? Could be a week, two weeks...”

“Then maybe I should get a move on and seek him out. Besides, I need to-” Aurora stopped, more memories of the previous battle resurfacing. Thinking back, she wasn’t even sure if Captain Bowen and the others were alive. She put a hand over her face, feeling her forehead was still hot.

“You may wish to rest a bit longer,” said the forestmar. “The worst is over, but your body needs time to recover.”

“But I... I have to get back to the others. I have to see the captain.” Aurora forced herself up, causing the others to move back.

“W-wait just a moment! The sun is too bright out. It might-”

“Move. I do not wish to be rude, but... I need to see the captain.”

Aurora stumbled her way towards the shed’s door, pulling it open. She expected to be on the grounds of someone’s estate, or even see a small house nearby. But she didn’t. This wasn’t someone’s storage shed. She was in the middle of the wilderness.

“What the? Where am I?” Aurora looked around. “I thought you said... Wait.” She looked back at the slaves, realizing the shackles around their wrists and ankles had broken chains. “You’re escaped slaves, aren’t you?”

“Don’t get any ideas, you hear?” said the shortmar. “We’re nowhere near a town. If you leave in your condition, you’ll...”

The gravity of the situation slowly sank in for Aurora. Not only was she nowhere near another settlement, but slaves, escaped slaves, had gone out of their way to help her. If they wanted to minimize risk to themselves, they had no reason to take her in. The smart decision would have been to let her die. And yet...

“Why?”

“What?” asked the shortmar.

“Why did you heal me? Am I not... Your enemy?”

The shortmar went pale at those words. The forestmar, however, moved closer, a soft smile on her face.

“We’re no one’s enemy, dear. We just wanted to help.”

“But...” Jabez’s sad face flashed in Aurora’s mind. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to understand anything. Just be a dear and close the door. The cold will do you no good.”

Aurora glanced at the three escaped slaves, reading their expressions. They seemed tense, frightened. She decided to shut the door and sit back down.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll help keep your secret. Just tell me the truth this time. What happened?”

“The truth, eh?” said the shortmar, taking a seat himself. “Aye, we can tell you. But you might not like it.”

“That’s fine by me.”

The escaped slaves began their talk with Aurora in earnest, telling her the tale of how she was left for dead by her own comrades...

---

Deep within the jurou’s lair, Iris sat, watching Jabez. She and the others had lost sight of him a while ago, only for a passage in the mountain to suddenly open up when they searched for him. That’s when she met the jurou, Serena.

“Well, aren’t you a cute thing,” the spider smiled. “Welcome to my lair. Make yourself at home. Jabez and I have come to... An arrangement.”

Iris saw that Jabez was lying still atop a stone slab, bowls of strange-smelling herbs burning near him.

“What did you do?” Iris reached for her dagger.

“What he asked me to,” said Serena. “He sought healing. He sought safety for his friends. I’m willing to provide both... As long as you all behave.”

“Iris, Iris!” said Gatu, running over. “Found new friend! Look!”

A many-eyed, multi-limbed beast ran over to them like a happy pet, its scaly legs pitter-pattering across the stone. It flicked Gatu with its tongue, and the goblin giggled.

“Friend, that tickles!”

The tension Iris felt started to wane. She turned her attention to Kela, who was looking at Jabez and the slab.

“Hmm... Kela knows these herbs. Jurou have good eye. Many good eyes.”

“At least someone recognizes it,” said Serena. “Now what about you? Are we going to have a problem?”

Iris let go of her dagger’s handle, relaxing her body. “No, I think I understand now. But what should we do?”

“Sit? Stand? Whatever makes you feel most comfortable. Your good friend will be fine. I’ll make sure he recovers. Of course... What his body will go through in order to do so will be excruciating. He’ll be tossing and turning for some time, but he must not wake. No matter how much he moans or screams, we must leave him be. I’ll take care of his medicine, and you can... Watch, I suppose.” Serena was about to walk away when Iris reached out her hand.

“Wait.”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“I... I’ve heard tales of jurou. Tales of... Your venom.”

“Our venom?” Serena flashed Iris a coy smile. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I don’t want to be idle anymore. I don’t want to be a burden. I heard once that jurou venom can... Change you. Make you stronger. Is this true?”

“It is... Rather curious you’d know about that. I wonder where you heard about us?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Iris shook her head. “If it’s true, then I want to try it. I want to become strong. I don’t want to weigh Jabez down anymore. I want... To help him.”

“Iris...” Kela approached, putting a hand on Iris’s head. “Not burden. Not burden at all. Jabez said so too.”

“But he’s fought so hard for us. He’s done so much for me. Were it not for him, I...” The memory of the estate Iris once worked for lingered in her mind. “I have to do everything I can, just like he’s doing.”

At this, Kela nodded. “Understood. Kela will not stop you if this is chosen path. But remember, Iris was never burden.”

The goblin matriarch stepped aside, and Iris and Serena locked eyes.

“So, you’ve already made your decision?” asked Serena.

“I have.”

“You don’t even know what will happen.”

“It doesn’t matter. If the stories are true, I’ll do it.”

“Then show me your wrist.”

Iris turned her right hand over, exposing her wrist to the jurou. Serena leaned down, taking the kortu by the arm.

“Iris, was it? There is one thing you must understand before we do this. Jurou venom can kill. It often does. We use our venom to take life. But if someone survives a jurou’s bite, that is when the change takes place. If you think the pain Jabez will experience is bad, yours will be multitudes worse. Every nerve in your body will feel like a blazing inferno, and your blood will be colder than the harshest winter. It will be agony beyond measure. If you manage to survive, you will start to become like me. But... I have a feeling we’re already alike, you and I.”

“Just bite me already.”

“If you insist.”

Serena bit Iris’s wrist, and a black venom shot through her veins. Her arm felt white hot, and though she tried to scream, she lacked the strength to make a sound. Before the world went black, she felt herself caught in Serena’s arms.

“Now begins your journey, little one. I will make for you a cocoon. Whether you emerge a corpse or a monster, only fate can decide. Sleep well, until we meet again...”

---

While elves were favored as concubines because they were pretty, and dwarves were favored as laborers because they were strong and good with their hands, kortu were favored as cleaners because they were small... And easy to kick around.

“Get to work, slave!!” shouted the nobleman. “Up the chimney! It won’t clean itself!”

“Y-yes, master!”

“Less talk, more work! It’s been freezing as of late thanks to you! If this chimney isn’t spotless by the afternoon, there will be no food for you! Now get!” the nobleman stabbed the girl with a needle. The sharp sudden pain made her body jolt upwards, and she did her best to grip the smooth brick. The chimney wasn’t particularly dirty. On the contrary, she had ensured it was as clean as could be with how often she swept it, but that didn’t matter. She was all but certain that her master was making a game of things. His other servants were proper maids and butlers, and if they had marks from injury, it would sully his reputation. But a kortu? Well, no one really cared if they got hurt.

The girl was merely called slave. She had no need for a name, after all. If she ever became a proper maid, maybe she’d receive one, but that wasn’t going to happen. Nobles didn’t buy kortu to raise into maids or butlers. They bought them because they were small and weak. To Ramthians, kortu were more like toys or dolls. Small amusing things to play with and break when they grew bored, but not much else. Even though they grew quickly, a kortu would never be taller than about half a human’s size. The girl wasn’t sure why things were this way, or why she had been cursed to be born a kortu at all. That’s just how life was, she supposed.

After the back-breaking work, the girl had her master inspect the chimney.

“Hmm... It seems fine...” He then slapped her, knocking her to the ground. “But you got so dirty you left marks on your way down.” With a snap of his fingers, he had another servant drag her off to behind his manor where she had cold water splashed on her from a metal bucket.

“W-wait!” She cried, cold water hitting her face over and over. “I’m sorry! P-please!”

“Just accept it,” said the servant. “If I don’t do this, then I won’t get to eat today. Just... Grin and bear it.”

The servant filled another bucket, splashing the girl all over again. By the time it was done, the girl’s body felt totally numb. She couldn’t stop shaking from the cold, and her tattered clothes were completely soaked, ensuring the cold clung to her that much longer. The servant bowed his head as the closest thing to an apology he could give, then he walked away. Left by herself, the girl sobbed. Was this truly all there was to life? It wasn’t fair. Why should she have to suffer? Why should she have to take all this abuse? Why did it amuse her master so?

The pain and sadness she felt twisted her up inside, and the seed of hatred was born. In that moment, she looked over to the orchard nearby. Her master owned many apple trees. They were often made into cider and sold for a high price. There was another use apples had besides food and cider, though...

When the girl finally dried off, she was allowed back inside the manor. She slid open the square wooden door to her crawlspace. As a kortu, she wasn’t allowed a proper room. A space in the wall was enough. That suited her just fine, because when she was in here, she wasn’t out there. Sometimes, when it was very late, she liked to sneak out of her crawlspace and steal books from her master’s library. She hardly ever read them, so he never noticed. Reading inside the crawlspace, even if it was difficult in the dark... That was her one and only respite from this cruel and bitter world. And it was through her reading that she learned things. Terrible, terrible things.

The thing about being a kortu was that people hardly took notice of you when they had no reason to. Her master had her work constantly to keep his manor tidy. After all, only she could fit into the tighter spaces. But when she wasn’t cleaning or being the target of his amusement, it wasn’t difficult getting around the manor unnoticed. Kortu were small. Kortu were quiet. In some ways, they were like insects. And just like insects... Some of them had a nasty sting.

“M-master?!” a panicked servant called out. “Someone call a doctor! An apothecary! Whoever!!”

“What’s wrong?” another maid came running.

“Master is...”

Peeking from around the corner, the kortu girl saw the fallen body of her former master, dead from poison. He never suspected a thing, always drinking his fancy tea like his life depended on it. And now... He was gone. But that wasn’t the only thing the girl did.

“Unhand me!” the servant shouted. “I didn’t do it, I swear!”

“Then what were those apple seeds doing in your pocket, hmm? Thought you’d steal a nice snack from your master’s orchard when he wasn’t looking? Or was it something else?” sneered Sheriff Wallack. “Don’t think you can sneak this one past me. An apothecary already looked the body over. You’ll be hanged for this, mark my words.”

“But it wasn’t me!!”

The kortu crept back into the dark from around the corner. She made sure to repay that one for nearly drowning her in all that cold water. Now that the master was gone, though, so was her life at the manor. Slaves could be inherited if the proper agreement was signed, but the nobleman who handled the orchard did no such thing, which meant that all his acquired servants would be auctioned off. Those who didn’t take someone’s fancy ended up back at the slave house.

“What am I going to do with you?” said Ramvic, looking the girl over. “Normally I can find buyers for shortmar like you, but your last master roughed you up something fierce. You can clean the stables for now, but mark my words: if you don’t make them spotless, I’ll feed you to the hounds.”

Too little too late, the girl realized she hadn’t freed herself from her misery. All she did was trade one master for another. She considered running away. She wouldn’t get far, but at least she could die with some dignity. But then, one fateful night, the barn opened, and her savior appeared.

“Everyone, I’m here to save you! Come with me, and I’ll take you far from this place!” said the stranger with the sun scar on his forehead.

“What?”

“What does he mean?”

“Who is this man?”

The other slaves were confused. So used to their way of living that his words seemed like a bad joke. But the girl noticed the ring of keys the man had. Ramvic’s keys, stained with blood. There was no mistaking it. All that noise she heard outside was because of this man. Like a righteous angel, he had come down upon the slave house with fury and flame. And now... He was going to set everyone free.

“You,” said the young girl. “Over here!”

“What is it?” the stranger asked, approaching.

“I can... I can help. Free me, and I shall free others.”

“You can do that?” He asked. The girl nodded.

“Let me borrow that thing on your belt,” the girl gestured to one of the man’s lockpicks. It wasn’t much, but through this, she could help hurry things along. Back in the manor, she had learned how best to pick locks so she could get to places she wasn’t supposed to. And now, instead of using those skills to flee to an untimely death, she was going to run away with this man.

The journey was harsh. She wasn’t sure she was going to make it when the guards rode after the wagon and caused it to fall over. But even if they didn’t make it, the thrill, the small taste of freedom... Even that would be enough. But then...

“Is that all you got?! Come at me!! I’ll kill you all!!!”

Buried under the weight of the confused and panicked slaves, all the girl could do was watch the stranger fight the guards, and it left her in awe. She decided in that moment that she would never leave that man’s side again, even if it put her in danger. Even if it would lead to her end. She didn’t care. And when she learned what Jabez was like when he was around friends, around people he could trust, the girl was endeared to him even more. Furious like a blaze, gentle and warm like a fireplace, the scar on his forehead couldn’t have been more perfect. To Iris, Jabez was like the sun.

To most people, the journey Iris had undergone with Jabez wasn’t very long. To an elf, it was like the blink of an eye. But to a short-lived kortu like Iris, it was so much more. Small wonder, then, that she thought about how she could be useful to him so much.

As Iris wrestled with the mind-numbing pain of the jurou venom from within her cocoon, she held onto the image of a bright future. One day she’d find her family. One day she could live a peaceful life with Jabez visiting her and telling her of his travels. One day...

Jabez... I won’t be able to call you papa forever. Some kortu might even think it strange for a girl my age. But... Just let me bask in the sunlight a little bit longer. Please...