The Mirror and The Sword: Chapter 2 (2,263 words)
Shyla still felt an aching deep within her chest as she slowly walked down the corridor. There was very little here for her, she realized, with Tanir gone. For much of her life, he was the one person she ever felt close to. She remembered being young and being carried around on his back. She remembered sitting on his lap as he read to her and told her grand stories about the world. She remembered him drying her tears at night whenever she had nightmares. Even more, she remembered how lonely it was in the Castle without him. She knew he would come back, at least eventually. Until the day he came trundling back on the carriage, she still felt as though she were wandering a maze, trapped and constantly turning around in circles.
Before she knew it, she found herself face to face with a familiar set of doors.
The library.
Shyla had spent many waking nights in here until the brasiers burnt too low to see well enough at all. She pushed open the doors and felt the warmth of sunlight peeking in through the smoky glass windows. She passed by the shelves, letting her hand lazily slide against the wood. She weaved in between them, glancing at the spines of row upon row of books. Shyla had read most of the books in the library by now, but there was always a book she had never glanced at, or one that she had seen but never read.
She stopped, facing one of the shelves and scanned through the spines until a large, handsome tome on the very top of the shelf caught her eye. She stood on her toes to reach it, but was still so woefully short that the tips of her fingers barely touched the top of the row of books below it. She could risk climbing the shelf, but decided against it when she gave it a nudge and heard the whole thing groan and squeal.
She chewed on her lip, glanced back and forth between the shelves, and stared back up at the book. She reached up with her hand, her mind in unison with it as grasped and clutched at the air. She willed the book to her hand. It gave a slight shudder, its weight resisting her at first, then slid out and off the shelf, into her hand. Her head reeled with power. It was not very often that she attempted to move things without touching them, so every time she managed to do so, her head swam with strain.
She turned the book over in her hands. It was much heavier than it had seemed on the shelf (this was not saying much however, as Shyla struggled to carry most things), wrapped in a worn leather cover of deep crimson with tarnished silver clasps. What ever title might have been gilded on the front had worn away long ago, so that only a few glittering flecks of gold remained stuck to the leather here and there. Curiosity piqued, she pried the book open and began to flip through the pages hungrily.
There was nothing in the book. Every single page that Shyla turned to was blank, dull, and completely silent. If it were not for the cover itself, she would have never believed that it had ever been opened or used at all. She frowned. Who would put a blank book in a library? She slid it back carefully onto one of the lower shelves. No use wasting her energy trying to put it back where it came from.
“Hey,” a voice spoke from behind. Shyla jumped - it was Cait, with an amused grin spread across her face.
“Oh, Cait! Gods you scared me!” Shyla said, clutching her chest and panting. “What are you doing here?”
Cait held up a small volume bound in black leather. “I took this out a few weeks ago. I thought it would be nice to read some epic poetry… and then I remembered that I don’t care for epic poetry too much at all.” She smiled. “Anyways, I just forgot about it until just a little while ago. Realized I should put it back where I found it - unless you’d like to read it.”
Shyla glanced at the book and shook her head. “No, it’s alright. I’ve already read that one a few times over, now. I’ve pretty much got it memorized. I suppose you ought to put it back on the shelves.”
Cait shrugged and slid it back, high atop one of the shelves. “So what book were you looking at just now?”
Shyla shrugged. “I don’t really know, myself. It was just blank. Not title on it at all, either.” She turned back to the shelves and began looking for another book. She changed the subject, “I’m sorry for what Nona said about you earlier. Had I known what she was going to say I would have thought twice about saying anything at all.”
Cait laughed. “You’ve no reason to be sorry for anything. Nona just likes insulting everyone - you know how she is. She has a bad tendency to say things she’ll later regret without thinking. I’ve got better things to be doing than to be worrying about what some chit thinks of me. Marrin on the other hand…”
“… He really has been quite sensitive lately, hasn’t he?” Shyla said, thumbing through another book she pulled from off of one of the lower shelves.
“Oh he’s always been like this. He’s rather sensitive about everything it seems. There’s not too much he’s fond of, either.”
“I’m sure he’s fond of you,” Shyla said, gazing up from her book. “At least it seems like he is - I see you two around together all the time.”
A bitter smile tugged at Cait’s lips. “No, trust me - Marrin is much fonder of other things besides myself, unfortunately.”
“Well,” Shyla said, “maybe he’s just too young to realize how good you are to him.”
“It’s sweet of you to say that,” she said with a laugh, “but I know a lost cause when I see one. The older he gets the harder it will be to change his mind about anything.
“You on the other hand … you’re still young. You’re what, sixteen years now? Why you’d want to waste it here reading nothing but books is beyond me.”
“Fifteen, actually.” Shyla said frowning and slumping down against one of the shelves, book propped up against her knees. “I wanted to go with Tanir when he left for trade in the west. He said no. I’ve asked him before. The answer is always ‘no.’”
Cait gave her a bemused smile. “Well just because he said no doesn’t mean you can’t.”
“… I don’t know what you mean, exactly.”
“Well, it’s just all those heroes in those silly stories you read. All you do is pack up and go!” She waved her hands in a flourish. “Just like that.”
“Where would I go though?” Shyla asked. “And furthermore, all those heroes had reasons to go on adventure. Some quest for a legendary object… or to save a princess, things like that. I’ve got nothing like that to look for.”
“Well, what about…” Cait frowned in thought. “What about your mother and father?”
“What about them?”
“Well, you don’t know who they are, do you? Everyone’s got parents, Shyla. Why not look for them?”
The thought struck her in an odd manner. It was true: she had never known her parents. The closest person in her life resembling anything close to fatherly was Tanir - once she called him ‘father’ without thinking and he was quick to firmly correct her. Besides that, Tanir had never spoken of her parents, and nor had Mirr for that matter. She had never spoken with them about anything concerning her true mother and father - for all she knew, they may very well be dead. If they weren’t, then where were they? Why haven’t they ever come looking for her? Did they even care? Would they even remember her?
The weight of it sunk deeply onto her shoulders.
“I’ll think about it, I suppose,” she finally said, not meeting Cait’s gaze.
“Alright then. Supper is supposed to be ready in a while. Should I tell Mirr to expect you?”
“Hm?” Shyla said, before realizing what Cait had said. “Oh, no. No, I uh… I’m not really hungry right now. I’ll probably get something from the kitchens for myself later.”
“Suit yourself, I suppose.” With that, Cait left Shyla.
She sighed. As tempting as the idea of leaving sounded in her ears, it soured very easily in her mind. There was no real reason for her to go anywhere. Besides, if she did have parents, she was certain that they would have found her long ago, and she would not be sitting on the cool floor of the library, pondering about what could be. The next time Tanir left for the west she would be another year older, and maybe that would be enough to convince him to let her come along and see the towns he spoke so fondly of…
She stood. Already the sun was dipping towards the west and the sky began to darken. She lit a small tallow taper that sat on the large oak tables in the center of the library. She took it and placed it on one of the large window sills, as she sat below and began to read.
Hours passed by. The candle was already melted down to a deformed, yellowed nub when she finished the last page of her book and snapped it shut. She stood and stretched. It was not until she felt her spine crack that she realized how hungry she really was. Her stomach gave a large, deep growl as she frowned and looked out the window.
Nothing but inky night and her own tired reflection stared back at her. She could hear sound of soft raindrops pattering against the window panes. There was no telling what time it was, but Shyla knew that it was far past time for her to be in bed. She was bound to get another scolding from Mirr in the morning, or whenever she woke.
She stretched her arms, picked up the book, placed it carelessly back on one of the shelves closest to her. Candle in hand, she began to make her way out of the library. Strangely, the closer she got to the doors, the louder muffled talk became from behind them, until they flew open.
Shyla quickly blew out her candle and slid quietly and hurriedly underneath one of the tables. She was not going to risk being chastised so late at night.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Marrin,” said a feminine voice that Shyla knew was Mirr’s. “And furthermore, I don’t see how this is any of your concern.”
“I overheard those two chattering away!” she heard Marrin say angrily, as if he were a child that had been made fun of. “I know what they’ve been seeing for the past week straight.”
Shyla could not see the two of them in the darkness. A brasier jumped to life - Mirr’s handiwork.
“Oh? What have you heard, then? Come on, I’m no mind reader,” Mirr said in exasperation. “It’s far too late in the evening to be playing silly games like this.”
“They’ve seen her leave! And you just let her go!” he said incredulously.
“Who are we even talking about?”
“Shyla, damnit!”
Shyla felt a sudden pang in her stomach that was not hunger. She crouched closer to them. A disconcerting silence passed between Mirr and Marrin.
“What do you want me to do? If the twins have seen it…” She hesitated to continue, “ … then it will very likely happen.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t actually try to stop it from happening!”
“What do you suppose that I should do then, hm?” she asked, haughtily.
Marrin murmured something Shyla could not hear.
“Marriage?!” Mirr scoffed loudly. “To whom? Surely you don’t mean to yourself?”
“Well…”
Shyla fought back a sudden wave of nausea.
Mirr laughed. “Marrin, this is not a very wise idea, and I don’t think you thought this through very well in the least. What would Cait say if she
knew how you felt?”
“She already does. Or at least it seems that way,” he said. “Besides, she’s much older than myself.”
“And Shyla, with whom you share nothing in common with - she would be a better choice? Have you even talked to her about how you feel? Do you know how she even feels about you?”
Silence.
“… Do you even know what she is, Marrin?”
Another silence.
Mirr kicked back one of the rugs on the floor, knelt down, and gently lifted up a loose stone. Shyla saw her reach into pure darkness and pull out a sheathed sword. Mirr stood up again, and Shyla moved even closer to them under the table.
“Do you know what this is?” Mirr asked, as she held it out to him.
Marrin shrugged. His face was unreadable. “It’s a sword? What, is it hers?”
Mirr made a scoffing sound again, and made to put the sword back when she caught sight of Shyla, who sat frozen to the spot. She smiled a little, put the sword in the hole, and covered it once more with the stone and rug. There was another long silence.
“Alright, Marrin,” she said. “From this moment on, consider yourself engaged.”
Before she knew it, she found herself face to face with a familiar set of doors.
The library.
Shyla had spent many waking nights in here until the brasiers burnt too low to see well enough at all. She pushed open the doors and felt the warmth of sunlight peeking in through the smoky glass windows. She passed by the shelves, letting her hand lazily slide against the wood. She weaved in between them, glancing at the spines of row upon row of books. Shyla had read most of the books in the library by now, but there was always a book she had never glanced at, or one that she had seen but never read.
She stopped, facing one of the shelves and scanned through the spines until a large, handsome tome on the very top of the shelf caught her eye. She stood on her toes to reach it, but was still so woefully short that the tips of her fingers barely touched the top of the row of books below it. She could risk climbing the shelf, but decided against it when she gave it a nudge and heard the whole thing groan and squeal.
She chewed on her lip, glanced back and forth between the shelves, and stared back up at the book. She reached up with her hand, her mind in unison with it as grasped and clutched at the air. She willed the book to her hand. It gave a slight shudder, its weight resisting her at first, then slid out and off the shelf, into her hand. Her head reeled with power. It was not very often that she attempted to move things without touching them, so every time she managed to do so, her head swam with strain.
She turned the book over in her hands. It was much heavier than it had seemed on the shelf (this was not saying much however, as Shyla struggled to carry most things), wrapped in a worn leather cover of deep crimson with tarnished silver clasps. What ever title might have been gilded on the front had worn away long ago, so that only a few glittering flecks of gold remained stuck to the leather here and there. Curiosity piqued, she pried the book open and began to flip through the pages hungrily.
There was nothing in the book. Every single page that Shyla turned to was blank, dull, and completely silent. If it were not for the cover itself, she would have never believed that it had ever been opened or used at all. She frowned. Who would put a blank book in a library? She slid it back carefully onto one of the lower shelves. No use wasting her energy trying to put it back where it came from.
“Hey,” a voice spoke from behind. Shyla jumped - it was Cait, with an amused grin spread across her face.
“Oh, Cait! Gods you scared me!” Shyla said, clutching her chest and panting. “What are you doing here?”
Cait held up a small volume bound in black leather. “I took this out a few weeks ago. I thought it would be nice to read some epic poetry… and then I remembered that I don’t care for epic poetry too much at all.” She smiled. “Anyways, I just forgot about it until just a little while ago. Realized I should put it back where I found it - unless you’d like to read it.”
Shyla glanced at the book and shook her head. “No, it’s alright. I’ve already read that one a few times over, now. I’ve pretty much got it memorized. I suppose you ought to put it back on the shelves.”
Cait shrugged and slid it back, high atop one of the shelves. “So what book were you looking at just now?”
Shyla shrugged. “I don’t really know, myself. It was just blank. Not title on it at all, either.” She turned back to the shelves and began looking for another book. She changed the subject, “I’m sorry for what Nona said about you earlier. Had I known what she was going to say I would have thought twice about saying anything at all.”
Cait laughed. “You’ve no reason to be sorry for anything. Nona just likes insulting everyone - you know how she is. She has a bad tendency to say things she’ll later regret without thinking. I’ve got better things to be doing than to be worrying about what some chit thinks of me. Marrin on the other hand…”
“… He really has been quite sensitive lately, hasn’t he?” Shyla said, thumbing through another book she pulled from off of one of the lower shelves.
“Oh he’s always been like this. He’s rather sensitive about everything it seems. There’s not too much he’s fond of, either.”
“I’m sure he’s fond of you,” Shyla said, gazing up from her book. “At least it seems like he is - I see you two around together all the time.”
A bitter smile tugged at Cait’s lips. “No, trust me - Marrin is much fonder of other things besides myself, unfortunately.”
“Well,” Shyla said, “maybe he’s just too young to realize how good you are to him.”
“It’s sweet of you to say that,” she said with a laugh, “but I know a lost cause when I see one. The older he gets the harder it will be to change his mind about anything.
“You on the other hand … you’re still young. You’re what, sixteen years now? Why you’d want to waste it here reading nothing but books is beyond me.”
“Fifteen, actually.” Shyla said frowning and slumping down against one of the shelves, book propped up against her knees. “I wanted to go with Tanir when he left for trade in the west. He said no. I’ve asked him before. The answer is always ‘no.’”
Cait gave her a bemused smile. “Well just because he said no doesn’t mean you can’t.”
“… I don’t know what you mean, exactly.”
“Well, it’s just all those heroes in those silly stories you read. All you do is pack up and go!” She waved her hands in a flourish. “Just like that.”
“Where would I go though?” Shyla asked. “And furthermore, all those heroes had reasons to go on adventure. Some quest for a legendary object… or to save a princess, things like that. I’ve got nothing like that to look for.”
“Well, what about…” Cait frowned in thought. “What about your mother and father?”
“What about them?”
“Well, you don’t know who they are, do you? Everyone’s got parents, Shyla. Why not look for them?”
The thought struck her in an odd manner. It was true: she had never known her parents. The closest person in her life resembling anything close to fatherly was Tanir - once she called him ‘father’ without thinking and he was quick to firmly correct her. Besides that, Tanir had never spoken of her parents, and nor had Mirr for that matter. She had never spoken with them about anything concerning her true mother and father - for all she knew, they may very well be dead. If they weren’t, then where were they? Why haven’t they ever come looking for her? Did they even care? Would they even remember her?
The weight of it sunk deeply onto her shoulders.
“I’ll think about it, I suppose,” she finally said, not meeting Cait’s gaze.
“Alright then. Supper is supposed to be ready in a while. Should I tell Mirr to expect you?”
“Hm?” Shyla said, before realizing what Cait had said. “Oh, no. No, I uh… I’m not really hungry right now. I’ll probably get something from the kitchens for myself later.”
“Suit yourself, I suppose.” With that, Cait left Shyla.
She sighed. As tempting as the idea of leaving sounded in her ears, it soured very easily in her mind. There was no real reason for her to go anywhere. Besides, if she did have parents, she was certain that they would have found her long ago, and she would not be sitting on the cool floor of the library, pondering about what could be. The next time Tanir left for the west she would be another year older, and maybe that would be enough to convince him to let her come along and see the towns he spoke so fondly of…
She stood. Already the sun was dipping towards the west and the sky began to darken. She lit a small tallow taper that sat on the large oak tables in the center of the library. She took it and placed it on one of the large window sills, as she sat below and began to read.
Hours passed by. The candle was already melted down to a deformed, yellowed nub when she finished the last page of her book and snapped it shut. She stood and stretched. It was not until she felt her spine crack that she realized how hungry she really was. Her stomach gave a large, deep growl as she frowned and looked out the window.
Nothing but inky night and her own tired reflection stared back at her. She could hear sound of soft raindrops pattering against the window panes. There was no telling what time it was, but Shyla knew that it was far past time for her to be in bed. She was bound to get another scolding from Mirr in the morning, or whenever she woke.
She stretched her arms, picked up the book, placed it carelessly back on one of the shelves closest to her. Candle in hand, she began to make her way out of the library. Strangely, the closer she got to the doors, the louder muffled talk became from behind them, until they flew open.
Shyla quickly blew out her candle and slid quietly and hurriedly underneath one of the tables. She was not going to risk being chastised so late at night.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Marrin,” said a feminine voice that Shyla knew was Mirr’s. “And furthermore, I don’t see how this is any of your concern.”
“I overheard those two chattering away!” she heard Marrin say angrily, as if he were a child that had been made fun of. “I know what they’ve been seeing for the past week straight.”
Shyla could not see the two of them in the darkness. A brasier jumped to life - Mirr’s handiwork.
“Oh? What have you heard, then? Come on, I’m no mind reader,” Mirr said in exasperation. “It’s far too late in the evening to be playing silly games like this.”
“They’ve seen her leave! And you just let her go!” he said incredulously.
“Who are we even talking about?”
“Shyla, damnit!”
Shyla felt a sudden pang in her stomach that was not hunger. She crouched closer to them. A disconcerting silence passed between Mirr and Marrin.
“What do you want me to do? If the twins have seen it…” She hesitated to continue, “ … then it will very likely happen.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t actually try to stop it from happening!”
“What do you suppose that I should do then, hm?” she asked, haughtily.
Marrin murmured something Shyla could not hear.
“Marriage?!” Mirr scoffed loudly. “To whom? Surely you don’t mean to yourself?”
“Well…”
Shyla fought back a sudden wave of nausea.
Mirr laughed. “Marrin, this is not a very wise idea, and I don’t think you thought this through very well in the least. What would Cait say if she
knew how you felt?”
“She already does. Or at least it seems that way,” he said. “Besides, she’s much older than myself.”
“And Shyla, with whom you share nothing in common with - she would be a better choice? Have you even talked to her about how you feel? Do you know how she even feels about you?”
Silence.
“… Do you even know what she is, Marrin?”
Another silence.
Mirr kicked back one of the rugs on the floor, knelt down, and gently lifted up a loose stone. Shyla saw her reach into pure darkness and pull out a sheathed sword. Mirr stood up again, and Shyla moved even closer to them under the table.
“Do you know what this is?” Mirr asked, as she held it out to him.
Marrin shrugged. His face was unreadable. “It’s a sword? What, is it hers?”
Mirr made a scoffing sound again, and made to put the sword back when she caught sight of Shyla, who sat frozen to the spot. She smiled a little, put the sword in the hole, and covered it once more with the stone and rug. There was another long silence.
“Alright, Marrin,” she said. “From this moment on, consider yourself engaged.”