Prologue: Senmarian Fjords, 966CE
Icy winds howled across the frozen Senmarian fjords, biting at the skin as Brennhir Torox stood tall upon a rugged cliff, withstanding the wrath of nature with a smirk .
His red hair and beard whipped around his body in the fury, ice catching in the strands like ashes in a dying fire. Though the winds blew leaves and snow around him and his legion, Brennhir's piercing blue eyes could clearly see his Viking brethren preparing for battle alongside him, the cold an afterthought to their excitement.
Brennhir's ruthlessness was legendary and came as a trait handed down from his ancient bloodline through generations of Viking men and women.
None in his army dared oppose him, knowing they would meet a gruesome and painful end. They were all too familiar with the bleeding corpses of their unfaithful comrades, left to the elements for the wild animals to feast upon.
With a fiercely determined glint in his eye, Brennhir addressed his warriors
"Brothers!" His voice boomed across the plains, echoing across the cliff to the near thousand men and women ready to fight at his word. “Today, we carve our names into yet another piece of this forsaken rock we call home. With the fire in our hearts and the edges of our blades, we will conquer these lesser tribes and expand our glorious empire!"
The people shouted in agreement, bumping heads and pushing each other around with anticipation as their leader continued.
"For GLORY!”
“For HONOR!”
“SKOL!"
"SKOL!" the warriors yelled back, raising their axes and swords in unison, the might of their roars causing the very ground beneath their feet to tremble.
Brennhir basked in the energy of his men, knowing victory was assured. He had never been defeated in his decades of leading this ever-growing horde and didn't even bother to consider such a thing as an afterlife, knowing that when his end came, he would live on through legends told about him. His purpose would keep his spirit alive. He would conquer every last man and woman in Senmar.
And they would drink from the skulls of the fallen, honoring his foes as their souls were sent to oblivion.
Brennhir's fist tightened around the hilt of his blade, unconcerned about the imminent battle, one in a long line of victories yet to come.
-------
Across the desolate field, hidden between boulders and hills, Senmarian warriors prepared for the assault. Their leader, Kimbel Murphy, stood solemnly as his men surrounded him and awaited orders.
He knew this day would come, having received ravens for many years from other fallen tribes warning of the danger of Torox. The other tribes were ill-prepared and lacking enough warriors to withstand such an assault.
Murphy had sent ravens of his own to leaders who had yet to encounter the bloodthirsty Vikings, begging to unite against their shared foe. The ravens that returned accompanied a small number of tribesmen. It wasn't nearly enough to hope for a victory, and most of the ravens went unanswered, as the tribes were wiped out one by one.
Realizing their numbers were too few in this fight, Kimbel turned to faith. The gods would occasionally make their presence known, especially to fierce believers such as Kimbel and his Druid priest, Cathbad.
The priest hadn't left Kimbel's side in months, whispering the songs of their gods and repeating prayers to him and the tribe members, making every attempt to boost morale and strengthen the warrior's conviction. Through faith and honor, they would not fall.
He stood next to his trusted leader and friend and prepared to address his fellow tribesmen behind the wall of wind that separated them from the Vikings.
Cathbad cleared his throat, lifted his chin, and released his voice in a strong, clear timbre. His dark robes, adorned with sacred golden symbols, whipped about, giving him seemingly holy aura.
"Brothers and sisters of the Senmarian tribes," he began, "we stand on the cusp of battle, our hearts filled with bravery and uncertainty."
His thick brow wrinkled, and he took a determined step toward the men and women.
"Fear not! We do not go into battle alone!" Cathbad took in a deep breath and looked to the sky. "We call upon the aid of Andarta, our mighty goddess of war and victory, to watch over us and strengthen our spirits in this time of need."
To the right, Kimbel raised his sword high and repeated the practiced mantra of prayer in unison with the Druid.
"Andarta, hear our plea! Look down upon your loyal warriors with favor and grant us your protection in the coming conflict. With your guidance, we shall triumph over our enemies and secure our lands for generations to come!"
The confidence of his comrades grew with his declarations of faith.
"Let us join our voices in supplication to the goddess," Cathbad called. "Repeat after me."
He shut his eyes against the wind and fell into something of a melancholy trance.
"Oh, mighty Andarta, we beseech thee, grant us strength and victory."
The group quietly repeated after him, heads bowed and hands clasped.
"Guide our blades. Steady our hearts and hands. In your name, we play our parts."
"In your name, we play our parts."
The wind diminished to a gentle breeze at the conclusion of the prayer. The sky above darkened slightly, and the presence of the goddess herself flowed through every man and woman in Kimbel’s army.
Cathbad continued, “Let us make an offering to Andarta, a token of our devotion and gratitude.”
In his right hand, he held up a finely crafted sword, adorned with intricate Nordic carvings. Symbols decorated the hilt and danced along the razor-sharp blade. Kimbel reached up and gently received the hilt of the sword from Cathbad’s hand.
When he had the sword hilt fully in his grasp, the carvings on the blade began to emit a vibrant, purple glow. The warriors gasped and cheered quietly in their excitement, knowing they had captured the attention of the goddess, who was now by their side.
Half a mile behind Kimbel's brethren stood an ancient, curving oak tree. Its branches twisted toward the sky, its dark leaves untouched by the cold of winter, and a strange mist surrounding the base. It was a place of worship, where the Senmarian's could feel the energy of their faith and gods. It connected all of the tribesmen in Senmar, a place where weddings, memorials, and births took place in the eyes of the divine.
Kimbel began walking toward the tree, sword still held aloft and glowing, leading the tribe through the mist. The Nordic script pulsated, the heartbeat of the goddess pounding, a gentle drum to lead her believers to victory.
Reaching the tree, Kimbel gazed upon it in reverence as Cathbad set a hand upon the weathered trunk next to a name that had been carved centuries before in the same Nordic script as on the sword, “Helagher Eik”.
Cathbad whispered the name aloud, and the petrified wood came to life beneath his touch, recognizing its name on his lips. The lettering softly glowed, matching the color of the sword's aura.
Kimbel thrust the sword into the soil at the tree's roots and spoke, "In honor of Andarta, we offer this blade, forged with skill and purpose. May it symbolize our commitment to the cause, our faith in her protection."
As soon as he removed his hand from the sword hilt, the colors changed to a vibrant green then faded away until it looked like any other sword. The intricate carvings disappeared as well, leaving the blade smooth on all sides. The tree seemed to take in the energy of the sword, absorbing it from the roots and settling at its core.
The warriors bowed their heads as Druid Cathbad began an incantation, invoking the blessings of Andarta upon the army.
The Druid concluded the ritual and said, “Go forth, brave warriors, knowing that Andarta watches over you. Let courage be your shield and victory your reward. Today, we fight with the might of the goddess on our side!”
With a resounding cry, the soldiers raised their weapons high, their spirits lifted by the invocation of Andarta’s protection. Filled with newfound confidence, the Senmarians turned to face the notorious Vikings.
-------
The Senmarians marched across the bitterly cold fjord, making their presence known to Brennhir Torox and his Vikings.
Upon clearing the hill, the Senmarian leader peered into the foggy distance and found the menacing shape that was Torox and his thousand-man army.
Kimbel Murphy shouted out with ferocity, spittle flying into the face of his right-hand man, “Brennhir, your reign of terror ends today! You and all of your men shall meet the devil upon this battlefield, for it will be the last place you’ll ever see!”
Brennhir laughed heartily, unsheathing his mighty sword.
Grinning menacingly, he growled, “We shall see, Murphy. First, let our blades meet!”
With a thunderous cry, the two armies charged toward each other, shields raised and weapons at the ready. The clash of metal echoed through the fields as the warriors collided, each side fighting with unbridled ferocity.
Amidst the chaos, Brennhir yelled to his men, “Stand firm, brothers! Victory is within our grasp!”
The battle raged on for what could have been mere minutes or hours. Sprays of crimson stained the ice and snow, fingers, weapons, and tufts of hair along with them.
Kimbel had cut down more Vikings than he thought to count, while constantly searching for the bloodthirsty leader of the group and trudging through the gore. He could still end up a corpse himself…which would be fine so long as he accomplished his mission.
And then Kimbel spotted him.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Brennhir realized too late that the masses of men lying wounded or dead on the battlefield were his own. Determined to defeat his enemies, he closed his eyes, raised his face to the sky, and gave a very loud, tribal yell in an attempt to shake off the weariness that always came with such battles.
Unbeknownst to him, Kimbel Murphy had been watching, waiting for a break in the constant swings of Brennhir's massive claymore. Murphy knew the opportunity was his to take when the warrior paused and took a deep breath.
As Brennhir Torox raised his sword to the sky, yelling heartily for all his surviving men to hear, Kimbel raised his own weapon from behind the Viking, swiping with all his might at the his exposed neck.
As he did, the weapon became lighter, faster, and sharper. He felt invisible hands wrap around his own as he swung.
Heads from both sides turned in their direction when Torox's roaring came to an abrupt halt. Blood began shooting out of the stump of his neck, covering Kimbel in scarlet. The hairy head landed with a thump on the ground next to Kimbel, eyes and mouth wide open. He appeared to be looking at Kimbel, but he was dead and on his way to Hel, Kimbel was certain.
Kimbel fell to his knees, exhausted yet triumphant.
The terror that had reigned over the land for decades came to a definite end, silenced by Andarta's wrath. He'd felt her there for a moment. He had no idea what to make of it.
Druid Cathbad walked over to Murphy as he knelt, bloodied, over his fallen foe and patted him on the back gently.
“Good work, my son. The fight our people gave was worthy of Andarta’s protection, and she is pleased beyond measure.”
The Druid seemed to have a knowing look in his eye.
Cathbad then bent down and placed his fingertips on Brennhir’s forehead, which rolled a bit at his touch, having lost the anchor of its body. “You may have died valiantly in battle, but you spent most of your life being a scourge. You filled peaceful lives with terror. You uprooted people from their homes and tore women and children away from their husbands and families. From this point forward, you will serve Andarta by protecting people who have the misfortune to come across the path of evildoers such as yourself.”
The curse was set upon Brennhir as Cathbad removed his fingers from his forehead. He then turned back to Kimbel.
“It is done. Time to honor Andarta for her protection and strength by celebrating with your army.”
He smiled for the first time in his life, which gave Kimbel quite a start.
Bolstered by the Druid, Kimbel Murphy turned toward his army, expecting to see only a few remaining. When he saw how many were still standing, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Kimbel began to take count, filling with more gratitude than he ever imagined as he surveyed the ranks.
“By Andarta, everyone has survived! We have prevailed!” he declared, his voice ringing out triumphantly. “Let us feast tonight and share the good news with our kin! Before we leave these hallowed grounds, let us gather round the magical sword through which Andarta blessed our battle and bow down to her greatness.”
-------
Kimbel and his warriors trod over the battlefield, strewn with the mangled bodies of their foes, focused on reaching the ancient oak tree with quiet reverence.
The Vikings who still lived met their end quickly, either too injured or too exhausted to fight back. Killing them after the fall of their leader was a mercy.
"What is to happen to their souls?" asked a young warrior who was seemingly fascinated by the violence.
Cathbad gave an uncharacteristic chuckle. "They will certainly not be greeted by Eir at the Hall of Souls, if that's what you're asking."
The Druid reached the tree first, standing a few feet from Andarta's sword. As he began the prayer of praise to their goddess, something in the sky shuttered. Any light from the fading sunset was washed away, and dark clouds rolled in faster than the Druid had ever seen.
“What?" Kimbel gasped, searching the heavens.
Before anyone caught sight of anything, the clouds suddenly opened, and the visage of a huge beast dropped to the ground in front of them, its landing producing a wave of pressure that pushed the warriors back several feet and shook the ground beneath them.
It landed on top of the sword and faced the warriors with a calm demeanor, flicking the tip of its fluffy tail up and down gently.
Stunned by the vision before them, the group froze in place, hardly daring to breathe lest the massive dragon hear them and attack.
The dragon settled down, closed its eyes, and began making a very loud, deep purring sound as it seemed to fall asleep.
The warriors, still stunned, stepped back carefully and looked to each other in confusion and a healthy amount of fear.
"A dragon!" they gasped.
None of them had ever seen the beast they all thought to be of myth and legend.
One of their commanders approached Kimbel and Cathbad, warily eyeing the dragon.
"How are we to praise our goddess without the sword?" Torreya Pelle whispered.
She was one of the female warriors who was always in high demand when a battle was afoot. Striking in appearance and intelligence, she could be counted on to direct her soldiers effectively for a positive outcome. Her beauty often distracted opposing foes, allowing Torreya’s soldiers additional time to fulfill their deadly duties.
Seirri, a mighty warrior who often acted in haste, offered a plan to retrieve the sword so the group could finish their task.
“The beast appears to be sleeping soundly. I’ll go around it and see if I can fetch the sword from behind.”
“Wait, Seirri!” Torreya commanded in a panic. “He does appear to be sleeping, but none of us have ever come across a dragon before, let alone one so massive. I suggest we leave and come back tomorrow. Surely, he will be done with his nap and gone by then.”
Seirri huffed in frustration, “I’ll not be coming back this way tomorrow, Torreya. I want it to be over.”
He then began striding purposefully alongside the sleeping beast, watching for any indication that it was awakening, intent on reaching the opposite side of the tree.
Kimbel and his soldiers watched with bated breath as Seirri walked none too softly toward the dragon’s right end, where the tail curved back along its body. When he reached the opposite side of the tree, Seirri saw the tip of the sword glinting in the moonlight.
“I see it!” he yelled excitedly.
Jass, Seirri’s brother, had also been watching the dragon’s eyes for signs of awakening. As soon as Seirri yelled out, the dragon’s eyes snapped open and sent a small stream of smoke and fire out of its nostrils toward the soldiers.
“RUN!” screamed Torreya.
“My brother is back there!” Jass argued vehemently. “I’ll never desert him!”
He ran toward the dragon, brandishing his sword while quickly looking for what could be the best place to embed it into the beast’s massive body. Any second, he expected to be incinerated by the fire-breathing dragon.
-------
Tyrell, the dragon, was amused at these tiny creatures. He saw the little man running toward him and knew he wanted to hurt him, but he was only there to protect Andarta’s sword. They had offered it to her for protection in battle, and she provided that protection. Tyrell knew the sword was now the property of the goddess Andarta, and these mortals seemed to want to take it back.
He could not let that happen.
When Jass got close enough, Tyrell flicked him gently with the tip of his furry tail, which sent the man hurtling through the air sideways at least four meters.
He didn’t want to hurt people who Andarta had protected, but he couldn’t let them get the sword. He was in charge of protecting it until Andarta needed it once more, however long that may be.
Suddenly, Tyrell felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck and growled in irritation. He turned toward Seirri, who had shot him in the neck with an arrow.
With a look of abject terror on his face, Seirri screamed and started running away toward his countrymen, who were already far ahead of him. Before he could reach them, he felt sharp teeth on both sides of his hips, anticipating the excruciating pain that was surely to come next.
Please make it quick, he prayed silently.
Suddenly, he was lifted high up in the air and flung so far that he landed in front of his fleeing fellows. Both of his legs buckled and broke under the strain of falling from such a height, and he screamed in agony.
Unbeknownst to the group, Tyrell immediately felt remorse at the pain he had caused the man. He didn’t mean to hurt him, but these creatures were so fragile that it was hard not to.
Jass and Torreya quickly bolstered the broken Seirri, one shoulder under each of his armpits, and ran as fast as humanly possible.
Kimbel looked back, expecting to see an angry, advancing dragon on their tails, but he was nowhere in sight.
“Oy!” Kimbel yelled. “Stop! Stop!”
“Stop!” yelled Jass, who was further up in the group.
One by one, everyone stopped running and looked at Kimbel, who was pointing back to where the dragon had been.
The fjord was silent, except for the ever-present wind.
In the distance, the warriors could still see the tree where they left the sword at its base. A fluffy tail, much smaller than the one boasted by the dragon, scrambled around the gnarled roots of the tree and up to the branches.
"Did it…fly away?" asked Kimbel, staring in confusion at the tree.
"I believe we would have heard the wingbeats if that were the case. But what was that other creature?" asked Cathbad, who squinted to try to see in the dimming light.
Torreya, also rather puzzled, said, "I think it was a cat."
The cat reappeared as it chased a mouse down the tree and across the field, the moonlight glinting off of something around the cat’s neck.
Torreya craned her head forward and squinted her eyes in disbelief.
“Did that cat...sparkle?” she asked nobody in particular.
Seirri, seeing the same thing but not believing his own eyes, said, “Nooo...”
“Oy!” Torreya exclaimed, brushing it off. “That must be the moonlight playing tricks on our eyes...”
Squaring his shoulders and donning a brave face, Kimbel announced, “Now that the beast is gone, I’m going to go back to the tree to give Andarta our thanks. Torreya, please keep to our mission if I do not return.”
“Aye,” she replied solemnly, nodding in confirmation.
The group nervously watched their leader as he strode toward the offering tree. He reached the tree after several minutes, put his hands on his hips, then scratched his head. Next, he walked around the tree.
Seirri commented, “Is that some ritual of gratitude he’s performing? I admit, I haven’t seen it before.”
“No,” Torreya replied, squinting. “Something is wrong.”
The group stood silently as they watched Kimbel return.
When he reached them, he had a blissfully happy smile on his face and announced, “Andarta has accepted our offering! It is nowhere to be found! Praise Andarta!”
“Praise Andarta!” all of the warriors responded.
“And now, brethren,” Kimbel announced, “we celebrate our victory!”
He thrust his sword, bloodied and dirty from battle, into the air, overjoyed that his unspoken plan had worked.
The warriors followed suit with a thunderous roar, not knowing all that their leader was celebrating. Their spirits were high once again as they celebrated their hard-won victory under the watchful gaze of their indomitable leader.
-------
In the darkness, moonlight glinted across watchful yellow eyes, pupils constricted into fine lines that peered through the leaves.
An ethereal voice echoed in Tyrell’s mind. “Not yet.”
-------
Chapter 1: Emilia & Clara
Small hands held tightly to tough, glass-like scales, the wind playfully pulling at coppery hair as Emilia pretended to soar side-by-side with her twin, Clara. The beat of wings was almost tangible as each movement released a strong pressure of wind at their sides, as they imagined jumping across trees and mountaintops.
"Faster!" Emilia yelled against the gale, urging her dragon to pivot precariously around each massive obstacle.
Emilia looked toward the dark clouds looming from the southwest when a large streak of lightning crackled down from the heavens and touched the ground several miles away. A thunderstorm was brewing, which made this the best time to fly.
Her horned helmet, secured around her chin, kept the wind from her face as Emilia pushed forward through the sky.
"Wait for me!" Clara whined, gripping her own beast as tightly as she could with her dainty fingers.
She tried to catch up to Emilia, but the girl was too fast! Clara's coordination was thrown off, and within seconds she found herself sprawling on the ground covered in thistles and stone.
"Come on!" Emilia yelled over her shoulder, laughing gleefully.
“I can’t,” Clara whimpered.
Emilia looked over her shoulder and saw Clara on the ground grabbing her knee and crying. Her plastic Viking helmet and broomstick were forgotten in the dirt next to her. Her strawberry-blonde braids were askew, random hairs sticking out in every direction from the electricity in the air.
Immediately brought back to reality, Emilia dropped her own broom and ran to her twin’s side.
“What happened? Are you okay?” she asked with concern.
Clara shook her head and sniffled as tears ran down her face and dripped off the end of her chin and nose.
“Come on,” Emilia urged. “Let’s show Mama so she can fix you up.”
She helped Clara stand up and supported her on the way back home. Before they could reach the house, another lightning flash and frightful growl of thunder came simultaneously, causing Clara to let out a short scream.
“It’s okay. We’re almost there,” Emilia assured her sister, urging her along as quickly as possible.
Clara’s eyes were red from sobbing when they reached Amalia, the girls’ mother.
When she saw Clara, she exclaimed, “What happened, my little fawn? Did the dragon get you?”
Clara shook her head sadly.
“No…the broom was broken, and it made me fall and hurt my knee.”
“Oh, what a nasty broom that is, but thankfully it’s only a little scratch. I’ll patch you up, and it’ll be better in no time. I bet you’ll be back on that dragon tomorrow morning,” her mother said with a quick kiss on Clara’s forehead.
Clara smiled up at her mother and then watched as she cleaned the scrape, added some antibiotic ointment, and put on a bandage.
Amalia said cheerfully, “There now...all better!”
“Thanks, Mama!” Clara hugged her mom and mumbled, “I hate thunder. It’s so scary.”
“I—” Amalia was cut short by the loudest clap of thunder they heard yet.
All three of them jumped and yelled when the windows in the house shook violently. The rain then began pouring down so heavily that they couldn’t see the other side of their backyard outside the window.
“Did something hit the house?” Amalia asked in a panic.
The girls followed her as she ran through each room in the house looking for damage, but they didn’t see anything out of place, other than items the girls left on their bedroom floor.
“Let’s go watch the telly while we wait out the storm,” Mama suggested. “Something funny!”
“Okay!” the girls yelled with enthusiasm, not recognizing the concern in their mother’s eyes.
They spent the rest of the afternoon watching comedy shows, some of which relaxed them enough to be able to laugh at the funny parts.
Right when Mama said it was time to make dinner, the power went out.
“Good Lord,” she mumbled. “What next? I’m going to call Daddy and see if we can go out to dinner tonight.”
“Yay!” Emilia yelled.
-------
The next afternoon, the girls came in from the backyard to have lunch with their mother. Clara’s face was flushed from the heat that developed after yesterday’s storm. The humidity hanging in the air made the heat even worse.
“Clara, hurry up!” Emilia scolded before taking a bite of apple.
“I am,” Clara shot back.
“No, you’re not! You eat like a slowpoke!” Emilia complained. “I want to go back outside. Let’s go!”
“Okay,” Clara mumbled slowly and then finished the water in her glass before standing up.
She could never match her sister’s never-ending supply of energy and excitement.
Amalia could easily see Clara’s discomfort and suggested, “It’s getting rather warm outside, girls. Why don’t you go change into something cooler and take it easy for the rest of the day?”
Clara smiled at her mother with relief, and Amalia winked at her. She knew this meant they could stay inside the house where the air conditioning kept them comfortable and safe.
“There’s nothing to do, Mama!” Emilia whined. “I’m so bored!”
“We could do a puzzle,” Clara offered.
“An excellent idea, my little fawn!” Amalia replied. “You got that beautiful fairy puzzle a few months ago at your birthday party. I’ve never seen you girls even open the box. Why don’t you do that one?”
“I hate puzzles!” Emilia complained. “I want to do something fun!”
Emilia was still pouting because her best friend, Gabriel, couldn’t come play with them. He had to work on his parent’s farm.
She told him to tell his parents they were his best friends and surely they would understand, but they didn’t. Having never met his parents, she assumed they must be really mean!
“Come on, Emi,” Clara pleaded, using her nickname for Emilia, hoping it would soften the impending explosion.
Clara hated confrontation and was trying to avoid having her mother and Emilia start yelling at each other.
The girls were seven years old, and as long as Clara could remember, Emilia and her mother were always butting heads. Although the girls were twins, they were as polar opposite as two people could be. Emilia was the taller of the two, the stronger of the two, and the more outgoing of the two.
She was also loud…really loud.
If she couldn’t be found in a crowd by her bright-red hair, no one ever had to work hard to find Emilia—all they had to do was follow the noise. She was also fearless and never had trouble making new friends with people and animals alike.
Clara wished she could be like Emilia, but she was painfully shy, very quiet, and didn’t have any friends of her own because of these qualities. Emilia’s friends were her friends, mostly because they put up with her to be around Emilia. They didn’t dislike her, because she was very sweet, but she did tend to put a kink in their plans because she was afraid of doing things that might be dangerous.
Every now and then, when Emilia’s friends complained about Clara tagging along, Emilia told them they weren’t her friends anymore.
She’d always say, “Where I go, Clara goes.”
Most of her friends stayed around, especially Gabriel and Ethan.
Gabriel was good friends with both of them, at least at school. He never had time after school. He had a great imagination and played Vikings with them whenever they could at recess. Every once in a while, they wanted him to be a mean Viking. He didn’t play that role very well, but he did his best to appease the twins. Gabriel was very softhearted and always gave up the fight way too easily for Emilia’s satisfaction. Secretly, he had a crush on Clara and didn’t want to scare her or make her think he was a bad person.
Emilia was born first, by twelve minutes, and was therefore the oldest. Due to this, she felt it was her duty to protect Clara. Since she was also stronger and more confident, this helped when she needed to protect her sister…which seemed to happen a lot. Too many times, Clara was helpless and at a loss as to how to handle what seemed to Emilia to be simple problems.
One time, when her parents brought her a brand new beach ball when they came back from a trip to Le Meadows, Clara took it out to the front yard to play. Within minutes, she lost control of the colorful ball. It bounced across the street and went into the neighbor’s yard, getting caught in some rose bushes.
Clara panicked.
She didn’t know the neighbors, and they had a dog that she was sure would attack her if she went across the street to get her ball. She spent the next several minutes pacing back and forth on the front lawn before running inside to tell Emilia what happened.
“So go get it!” Emilia snapped.
She was busy coloring a picture of a cat. Emilia loved cats and wanted one more than anything, but her father was allergic to them.
Clara’s face paled at the very idea.
“I can’t do that! Their dog will kill me,” she said seriously, her eyes wide with fear.
Emilia sighed. “Clara, you have to get over your fear of dogs. Besides, their dog is in their backyard. Your ball is in their front yard. There’s no way their dog is going to get you.”
Clara began crying.
“Emi, please, I can’t do it! Can you please get it for me?” she pleaded, small and nervous hands tightly grasped together.
Seeing how much distress Clara was in, her heart softened, and she replied, “Okay.”
She went over to Clara and gave her a hug before heading out the door to get the ball.
When Emilia returned with the ball, it was flat. It had popped against the rose bushes’s thorns. Clara was crushed. She never had such a beautiful ball before, and now the one she had was ruined in less than five minutes.
Emilia felt bad for her sister. She gave the ball to Clara, who appreciated the gesture but was now worried about how she was going to tell her parents about what happened. She always worried about how other people were going to react to her, so she went out of her way to do what she could to make them happy…even if it made her unhappy.
One of the things that made Clara unhappy was Ethan. He was one of Emilia’s friends who simply put up with Clara. Always walking around with an air of superiority, Ethan was unfortunately very smart and made sure everyone knew it. The only person in their grade who could match wits with him was Emilia. That was [10] what their friendship was based on – competition. At times, it seemed like they were fighting, but they were really arguing some point to prove which one of them knew more about a topic. Over time, they seemed to be equally knowledgeable, often about the same topics. This resulted in the two of them rolling with laughter on several occasions, while Clara would leave feeling completely out of the loop.
“I don’t like, Ethan,” Clara whined one day after he had left their house.
“Why not?” Emilia asked.
“He’s mean!” Clara pouted.
“Ethan is not mean!”
“He is too. He’s always walking around like, ‘Look at me! Look how smart I am!’” she mimicked, doing her best imitation.
Emilia collapsed on the bed in laughter. “Oh, Clara, that is so funny and so true!”
The sisters laughed together, which cheered Clara up immensely.
-------
The next day at lunch, Emilia and Clara were eating with Gabriel and Lisa, discussing plans for the week.
“Hey, Gabriel, want to come over after school? Lisa and Chase are coming over,” Emilia asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Gabriel hesitated, his gaze dropping to his food tray.
“I can’t. I have to work,” he mumbled.
Clara frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion.
“Again? But you always have to work. Don’t you ever get a break?”
She really liked Gabriel a lot and wanted someone she considered to be her friend at their house too.
Gabriel forced a smile, shrugging nonchalantly.
“It’s how things are in my family. We all have to pitch in.”
“We do too, but not every day!” Emilia pointed out. “Don’t your parents want you to have friends?”
Gabriel shrugged again without responding.
“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” Clara said solemnly. “We’ll miss you.”
Gabriel’s heart warmed, and he smiled at her with a slight blush in his cheeks. She gave him a small smile back then noticed Emilia give her a knowing look, so she quickly looked away. The girls accepted his explanation and changed subjects.
There was the occasional chill in the air, and the leaves were starting to change colors. They knew his family lived on a farm and the fall harvest was in full swing. What could they do but wait until winter when farming came to a standstill?
As the weeks passed, they noticed Gabriel appearing more exhausted, and he became withdrawn – even from them. Emilia and Clara grew increasingly concerned about him, so one day at recess, when they were out of earshot of other students and staff, Clara broached the subject with gentle concern.
“Gabriel, are you okay?” she asked. “You seem really tired lately. Have you been sick?”
Gabriel hemmed and hawed for a moment, his gaze distant as he struggled to respond.
“I…I’m fine,” he replied weakly.
Clara could see that something was terribly wrong, but if Gabriel wouldn’t tell her what was going on, how could she possibly help him?
That night, while the girls were in bed waiting to fall asleep, Emilia asked, “Clara, have you noticed that Gabriel always says he can’t hang out with us after school or on the weekends?”
“Yes, I have! I think it’s sad he has to work so much. He’s a kid! He should be able to play with his friends after school every now and then. Don’t you think?”
Emilia was taken aback by the passion with which Clara spoke about Gabriel’s situation. Oh, she thought, this was more than puppy love.
“Of course! I don’t know what I would do if Mama and Daddy wouldn’t let us do stuff with our friends. I’d probably go bonkers!” Emilia said and made a funny face.
Clara giggled, “You already are bonkers, Emi! That’s what makes you so fun.”
Emilia’s smile quickly turned to a frown as she lamented, “I feel like there’s something else going on with Gabriel, something not good.”
Clara sat up in bed and looked at her sister with alarm.
“Like what?”
Emilia shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we should talk to Mama and Daddy about it.”
Before she even finished speaking, Clara was out of bed and shoving an arm through a sleeve of her robe.
“Let’s go,” she stated.
Emilia quickly followed suit, and the girls ran downstairs to find their parents in the family room watching a game show.
“What are you two doing down here? I thought you were already in bed!” Amalia exclaimed.
“Mama, Daddy, can we talk to you about something?” Emilia asked.
“Of course, girls,” their father, Cauley replied, pressing the mute button on the television. “What’s on your mind?”
Clara explained, “It’s about our friend Gabriel. He always says he can’t hang out with us because he has to work.”
“That’s interesting,” Amalia said. “I know different families have different responsibilities, depending on what they do for a living. Maybe Gabriel’s family needs his help with something important.”
“That’s what I thought too, Mama,” Emilia said, “but it seems like he is always working! It doesn’t seem normal for someone our age.”
Daddy said, “They probably have a lot of chores to do around the farm or something. It’s not uncommon for families to rely on each other for help.”
Clara’s shoulders relaxed a bit, since her father’s explanation seemed to go along with what Gabriel had been telling them.
She nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense, but I still feel bad that we never get to see him outside of school.”
“Clara has a crush on him,” Emilia teased.
“I do not!” Clara shouted.
“Yes, you do,” Emilia laughed.
“Take that back!” Clara cried and tried to slap Emilia, but she was too fast.
As Clara chased after her, Emilia sang, “Clara and Gabriel, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then…”
“Alright, stop it, you two!” Cauley yelled.
Both girls stopped running, and Clara sat on the floor and continued to cry while hugging her knees.
Amalia sat down next to her and wrapped her arms around her.
“It’s okay to like boys, Clara. There’s nothing wrong with it, as long as you stay friends until you’re old enough to date.”
“When will that be?” she sniffled.
“Um…” Amalia looked up at Cauley with a questioning look.
“Not until you’re at least fifteen years old,” he replied, looking sternly at both girls then at Amalia with a questioning look.
Amalia added, “I was going to say sixteen, but I guess fifteen would be okay. In the meantime, maybe you girls could help out more around the house. You have plenty of chores that need to be done too.”
“But Mama…” Emilia whined.
“No buts, Emilia. It’s important to help out your family and take care of your responsibilities.”
Clara could tell Emilia was regretting coming down here and bringing up Gabriel’s work.
“Okay, Mama!” Clara said cheerfully. “As soon as we get home tomorrow, we’ll do our homework and then clean our room right away.”
“Great!” Amalia replied. “And no shoving things under your bed either. I want everything to be put where it belongs.”
“Okay,” the girls replied. “Good night again!”
Once back in their room, Emilia sighed.
“That didn’t go like I planned. Instead of figuring out a way to help Gabriel, we ended up getting more work for ourselves!”
Clara nodded. “Yeah, that was a bust. I wish we could do something to help him, but our parents are right. We do have our own stuff to do.”
“I know, but it still doesn’t feel right. You know how Mama always says to listen to your gut instinct? My gut instinct is telling me that something is really wrong in Gabriel’s family. I don’t know what it is, but something is definitely not right,” Emilia announced with conviction.
“Maybe we can find a way to help him when we’re older,” Clara mumbled.
Suddenly, a loud burst of thunder shook the house as incredibly bright blue light filled the room briefly.
“I thought the storm was over!” Clara cried, pulling the covers up over her head in fear.
“Maybe it’s starting again.” Emilia shrugged.
A faint sound mingled with the clatter of the storm. “Meow.”
“Clara!” Emilia shouted. “There’s a cat outside!”
“So?” Clara sneered, convinced her sister was trying to take her mind off the thunder. “We see cats all the time.”
She pushed the covers back down and looked at Emilia quizzically.
“No...look!” Emilia pointed at their bedroom window.
Both girls looked at the window and could clearly see a huge gray cat sitting on the windowsill looking in at them with its amber eyes.
“How did it...” Clara started to ask.
“I have no idea!” Emilia stated.
“We’re two stories up!”
“Maybe it climbed up the side of the house.”
“Cats can’t climb up the side of a house,” Clara retorted.
“We should let it in before it gets wet from the rain,” Emilia said and walked toward the window.
“What if it bites?” said Clara, worried.
“Ugh!” Emilia rolled her eyes as she opened the window to let the cat in.
Once the window was open, the cat simply sat there looking at her.
“Come on, kitty-kitty!” Emilia called.
The cat gracefully jumped down onto the floor, walked over to Emilia’s bed, and jumped up, settling itself in a ball next to her pillow.
“Look! It knows that’s my bed!”
“How could a cat know which bed is yours?” Clara argued.
“Maybe he likes me best!” she replied, sticking her tongue out at her sister.
“Whatever,” Clara mumbled. “You know you can’t keep it. Daddy’s allergic.”
Emilia’s mouth twisted to the side as she considered her sister’s warning. “Yeah, you’re right.”
She walked over to the cat curled up on her bed with its eyes closed, apparently sleeping.
She petted the long, soft fur on top of its head between its sharply pointed ears and said sadly, “Sorry, kitty, you have to go.”
“Meow.” The cat licked Emilia’s hand with its rough tongue, jumped down off the bed, then walked over to the window.
“Okay,” Emilia sighed as she got up to open the window for the cat.
She was surprised to see it was not raining. Not only that, but the ground outside was bone dry. She stuck her head out the window to look up at the night sky. Emilia couldn’t figure it out. That bright flash and loud boom surely had been a storm…evidently a very quick one.
And why didn’t their parents come up to make sure they weren’t scared with a noise that loud?
For the first time in her life, Emilia found herself with unsettling thoughts. As much as she and Ethan liked to think they could explain away any mystery, she was definitely stumped.
Not wanting to frighten Clara any further, Emilia kept her thoughts to herself and mulled them over throughout the night.
