Youuu Guysssss

I'M STILL ALIVE! And you naysayers gave up hope... Tsk, tsk, tsk!

Youuu guysssssss, should also know that this is probably the first time in my whole life I've said naysayers. It feels awesome.

And youuuu people dudes guyssss should know that I'm really hyper.. Might be the soda. Might be because this is the first time all day I've had energy. I live in a house of plagues and diseases... We all start coughing at once, it's actually kind of amusing.

And now yoooou guuuuys are reminding me you come here for story and not my life story.

Alright, seeing how my last post was March 16th, you guys might want a catchup...

Tom made his way to Qirmizi and met a hot princess named Alisha. Hopefully you remember she had been kidnapped, but something happened and she ended up in Qirmizi instead of being held for Ransom ransom. There was a fire at the palace at the same time Tom got captured by the captain of the guard. He escaped, but the captain of the guard hates his guts and beat Tom up once already. Tom also got a job with Esaria, a seamstress. She has a shifty looking husband, Ruvr, and a badly influenced son, Sarid.

Well, I stink at recapping, but there is always the handy links below, and hopefully you will be refreshed after you read the next chapter.

Oh, that and I still don't have a title. I'm great at this. :D

First Chapter

Second Chapter

Third Chapter

Fourth Chapter

Fifth Chapter
Sixth Chapter
Seventh Chapter
Eighth Chapter

His legs hurt. A lot. Tom swore under his breath. Esaria had him running up and down every street in Qirmizi. Plus, he had to carry handfuls of dresses, then racks and racks of thread. And if one thing, one little thing was messed up, she would threaten to flay his hide or something. Not to mention it was one of the hottest days Tom had ever experienced. But did he get a water break? No!  He had to watch Esaria and Alisha lounge about the shop, drinking their fill, while he constantly ran around under the heat and did real work. He was going to hurt Esaria…

                Alisha had the greatest time, of course. Yes, she said all the dresses were beautiful and Esaria was so nice. She didn’t know the first thing about someone’s character! If she thought Tom was her hero, then she had serious problems with evaluating people. He scowled and pushed the door to the house open. Esaria and Alisha were already inside, of course, because they sent him on to pick up an order right before the market was closing. The sentries had given him a tough time over it. Everyone was giving him a tough time about everything.

                Tom headed straight up to his room, ready to completely crash.

                “Tom, set the table!”

                Tom cursed louder.

                “Now.”

                Tom turned around and walked back down the stairs. Esaria watched him, eyebrow raised. Alisha smiled at him. He didn’t smile back. He grabbed the plates and dropped them roughly on the table and turned to go back up to his room.

                Alisha’s smile was fading.

                “Thomas.”

                Tom turned around once more and fixed the plates shortly. He glared at Esaria. “Can I go now?” he said.

                Esaria tensed at his behavior. “You may go now. But when Sarid and Ruvr return, you will come down. You will treat them with respect. You will not curse again.”

                Tom groaned. “You can’t do this! Any of this!”

                Esaria’s face softened. “Tom, I am not doing this alone. You are letting me. You are listening to me, and that’s a good thing, not just because I want you to. Because you can learn to obey someone. If you can’t do that, you can’t get anywhere in life.”

                “My mother is dead. Don’t try to be her.” Tom slammed the door as he threw himself on the bed.

“You never told me how yours parents died.” Alisha said quietly, walking in the room shyly.

                Tom lifted his head from the pillow. “And though it might shock some, you aren’t my real sister. Just let me sleep,” he snarled.

                Alisha sat on the bed by him. “I want to know.”

                “I don’t want this job,” Tom said, letting his head fall back on the pillow and speaking through it. “I don’t want any of this. I’d rather be a runaway.”

                “Then why don’t you?” Alisha asked.

                “Because. Because I don’t know! Because I want to prove her wrong and I want to become something more than absolutely nothing. A slave is worthless, they tell you it enough. Not that you would understand. You are the one who tells a slave they aren’t good enough,” Tom muttered. He looked up slightly, wanting to see her reaction.

                She frowned. “But… my slaves are nice. I like them.”

                Tom rolled his eyes. “But how do you treat them? Like dirt? You would never feed them the same food as you. Let them wear the same clothes as you. Let them harm you or yell at you or say you are wrong. You are the master. You are always right. Always more powerful.”

                Alisha shook her head. “I, I’m not. I don’t, I’m not mean,” she said, seeming lost.

                “Maybe you don’t try to be mean, but they always are.” Tom growled. He glanced at Alisha and sighed. He sat up a little. “No. You would probably be a nicer master than most others.” Maybe only because of your ignorance, but it equals the same. He gave her a small, reassuring smile.

                Alisha smiled and leaned her head on him. “Good. I don’t want to be mean.”

                Tom heard Sarid and Ruvr come in downstairs. He groaned. “Tell Esaria I’m ill.”

                “She’ll be mad.”

                “I’m going to go mad…” Tom said, standing. “I hate this place,” he muttered.

                “You can’t mean that, Tom. Esaria is nice. Maybe she yells at you a lot, but she is nice. And she gave you a job and a place to stay.” Alisha said, following him.

                Tom scoffed. “I mean it completely. She is arrogant and self-centered.”

                Alisha giggled.

                “What?” Tom said warily.

                “So are you.” Alisha giggled again and rushed past him down the stairs.

                Tom stared at where she had just been with confusion. He smirked and followed her.

Alisha frowned, mumbling something almost impossible to hear under her breath.

                Ruvr turned on her, growling angrily. “What did you say?”

                “Nothing, sir.” Tom cut in quickly. He prayed to the gods Ruvr wouldn’t do anything.

                “Shut up!” Ruvr snapped at Tom. “Let me hear the girl!”

                Tom bowed his head and shot a look to Alisha.

                She appeared nervous, but not terribly scared. “I, I said that wasn’t very nice. I mean, it’s not Esaria’s fault if you cut yourself.”

                “Alisha,” Esaria tried to stop her.

                “And she is your wife. You don’t treat her very well, do you?” Esaria kept trying to break in, but Alisha wouldn’t have it. “My father would never do that. He treats Mother like a queen. You hit your wife and insult her. It’s mean.” She paused. “Sir.”

                Ruvr screamed. “Out of my house! Now! Both of you!”

                “Ruvr! She doesn’t mean it! She doesn’t know!”

                Tom stood and motioned to Alisha hurriedly. She pursed her lips. Tom dove to put a hand over her mouth as she went to speak. Ruvr threw a plate at them, and Tom tugged Alisha out. He looked back to see Sarid, appearing very smug. As soon as they were a good distance from the house, Tom felt free to swear just this once. He didn’t care about what he did in front of Alisha anymore. She could and would deal with it.

                “Heard that, Thomas.” Esaria sighed, appearing to the left of them.

                Tom squinted through the dark at her. “Why are you here?”

                Esaria frowned. “Because I knew I should get out while I can. Much like you two… Sad, isn’t it?” She put an arm around Alisha. “Are you okay? Tom… I have to apologize. Maybe my actions have been something about my marriage, that I need to control something or someone.”

                Alisha smiled and nodded. “I’m fine.”

                Tom bowed his head. What was he supposed to say? Nothing? At least now she might lighten up.

                “But this doesn’t change any of the rules. You still have expectations.” Or she might not.

Tom sighed. “Whatever... What do we do now?” he asked.

                Esaria frowned and looked down. “I’m not too sure, really.” She brushed her hair back away from her face. “When Ruvr cools down, I’m pretty sure I can go back, but I’m not too sure he’ll let you two...”

                Alisha frowned. “I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get us kicked out. I didn’t know,” she said, beginning to cry.

                “Oh, no, Alisha!” Esaria said, hugging her. “It’s not your fault. I promise. If I had been any braver, I would have said that myself.”

                “But Tom says bravery is stupidity,” Alisha sniffed.

                Tom looked at his feet.

                 Esaria glanced up at Tom, seeming amused, but not angry. “Well, Alisha, isn’t that what all the cowards say?”

                Tom glared at Esaria, turning red. He opened his mouth to say something, but finally sighed and closed it again.

                Alisha giggled. “I see,” she said. She wiped the tears from her eyes.

                Suddenly, a trumpet sounded in the distance. Tom glanced at Esaria while more trumpets joined the first.

                Esaria frowned. “It’s coming from the palace. Come on,” she said, beginning to head that way. She glanced at Alisha. “Stay close.”

                Alisha nodded. Crowds began to form, filling up the streets in one single flow for once. Everyone was headed to the palace, and murmurs began spreading throughout the town of why. They all seemed to lead back to the same thing, though: the fire. Tom shivered as he remembered where he spent the time during that, flash backs of any of his many times in a cell. He glanced over at Alisha to make sure she hadn’t gotten lost. Esaria seemed distant and very worried at the moment, so he doubted she would notice quick enough if they lost Alisha. Just then, as he scanned through the sea of faces, he thought he spotted Sarid. He paled and looked down, hoping Sarid hadn’t seen them.

                “People of Qirmizi!” A voice boomed. Tom reluctantly turned to the burnt palace, whose black stood out against the blue sky and the red walls. A heavily built, but fairly short man stood on the balcony. Tom couldn’t tell anymore from the distance. “We mourn the loss of our last Emir woefully. But this is no longer the time for looking back! We must look forward, to the future, to rebuilding of the city, in greater and more prosperous ways!”

                The crowd roared in agreement with the man.

                “I promise you that I will do everything I can to help Qirmizi grow as your new Emir,” the man continued. The crowded cheered even louder at this, right before the man disappeared back into the palace. Tom frowned as he felt a distinct tug on his clothes. He turned to see Alisha, looking on edge.

                “Why are they so loud?” she asked nervously. “I don’t like it here. Let’s go,” she said, grabbing Tom’s wrist.

                Tom pursed his lips and looked around. “Yeah, hold on. Where’s Esaria?”

                “Tom!” Alisha yelled, tugging his arm. “Come on!”

                “No! We have to find Esaria!” Tom yelled back.

                As if on cue, Esaria appeared out of the crowd, looking rushed. “Let’s go. Now!” she yelled, hurrying through the crowd. Tom glanced at where she came from, but he didn’t see anything. Alisha yanked him toward Esaria, and they went exited the crowd.

Why Do I Keep Disappearing?

First Chapter

Second Chapter

Third Chapter

Fourth Chapter

Fifth Chapter
Sixth Chapter
Seventh Chapter

The meal finished without more than ten words spoken. Even Alisha was silent, able to feel the discomfort in the room. It was a simple meal, only some bread and rabbit, but Tom imagined it was more filling than he or Alisha had eaten in a while.

                Esaria stood. “I will excuse myself if you will let me.” She went back into a bedroom and closed the door quietly.

                Sarid rolled his eyes. “You are going to make my father furious.” He smirked. “Though I don’t mind you as much as him,” he said, walking over to Alisha. He lifted her chin up, trying to catch her gaze. “Alisha. Such a pretty name. Very pretty for a slave.”

                Tom growled. “Don’t touch her,” he said, standing and stepping closer.

                Alisha stared at Sarid, unable to move, frozen in fear.

                “Oh?” Sarid said, almost seeming happy Tom was so angry. “And you will do what? Can’t hurt me unless you want to lose the job you’re obviously desperate for.” He put his hand by his side. “A boy apprenticed to a seamstress. I imagine that will go wonderfully when you are older, if the apprenticeship even goes through. My father will probably stop it before it even starts,” he said coolly.

                Tom yanked Alisha away. He was enraged. It took so much effort not to plant his fist right on the arrogant boy’s smirk. He was stuck again. Always stuck between keeping his job and fighting the injustice. “I said, don’t touch her,” he growled.

                Sarid nodded. “Oh, yes. Whatever you say, Thomas.” He bowed mockingly low. He snickered. Suddenly, there was banging at the door. The smirk grew. “Why don’t you get it?”

                The bedroom door swung open and Esaria came out in a hurry. “Tom, Alisha, upstairs. Go. I will get it. Sarid… Please go to your room.”

                Tom bowed his head and pulled Alisha to the room, glad to get away from the boy. Sarid stayed where he was, though. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Just as Tom stepped onto the last step, he glimpsed a large, drunk man entering the house. Tom closed his eyes. No. Please no.

Alisha sat on the bed, hugging her knees. “I like her, Tom, but I don’t like him. At all,” she said quietly.

                Tom shook his head. “No, I don’t like him either.” He waited by the door, listening. It was quiet right now. “But I did tell you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” But there was a limit to what he could do… He just hoped Esaria would be around to make sure her son didn’t get out of check. “It’ll be fine.”

                Then came yelling. As much as Tom could guess, it was the father. He grimaced and closed his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair. It couldn’t end this soon, but he knew it was best he didn’t interfere or try. Esaria sent them away, and he had learned the hard way to stay far from a drunk in a bad mood. To stay away from any drunk, truthfully. He sighed and glanced at Alisha, who was staring at him.

                “What’s going on, Tom?”

                Tom had given up on lying to her. He would eventually end up lying about everything. He couldn’t and wouldn’t change life. “We aren’t wanted. Esaria hired us, but neither her son nor her husband thinks it’s a good idea. I might be fired soon enough.”

                Alisha frowned. “And then we will have to go back to the other house? I like this place better. It’s… livelier. Please don’t make us go back.”

                “It’s not my choice, Alisha.” Tom shrugged and sat on the other side of the bed. He was tired of hearing the argument from downstairs.

                She stared at him. “But, you, you won’t ignore me again, will you, Tom? That is your choice, isn’t it?” she asked hopefully.

                Tom grimaced. “I can’t be with you all the time. When Esaria has me work, you can’t always come with me. I’m only trying to get you to your father. Don’t you miss him?”

                Alisha’s eyes immediately began filling with tears. “I miss him awfully!” She hugged Tom. “And my room and my slaves and my toys… Oh, Tom!” She cried into him.

                “No! I mean, Alisha!” Tom groaned and pushed her off him. “I will take you to him. For now, I must stay and work. If not, I will be a slave forever. You will never stop being royalty. It is in your blood. I have to work for everything I get,” he said bitterly. She still knew nothing. He just needed her to understand.

                Alisha wiped her tears. “But take me home soon. I need to get home.” She hugged herself tightly.

                “Yes, I know,” he sighed. No one had to do whatever he said.

                The door opened, revealing Sarid. He frowned as he saw Alisha. He took her hand. “What’s the matter, beautiful?”

                Tom pulled Sarid away. “What did I say about touching her?” he spat.

                Sarid ignored Tom. He brushed Alisha’s hair out of her face. “Listen, I can see Tommy here isn’t taking care of you too well, but I know how to treat a lady.”

                Alisha trembled. “Please don’t touch me…”

                “I don’t bite.” Sarid whispered. He stroked her cheek, causing her to flinch. He stood. “You both are to go downstairs and see my father. Sorry about this, Alisha. But I could convince my father to let you both stay.”

                “I’m sure you did,” Tom growled and shoved Sarid away again, ignoring the pain it caused himself. He swallowed. Why was everyone against him? Where was the old captain now? Sarid rolled his eyes and left the room. Tom held his hand out to Alisha. “Come on.”

                Alisha let him help her up. “Tom.”

                “I will do what I can, Alisha.”

“I can’t believe you got two of them!” the man growled.

                Esaria closed her eyes. “I only expected one. I’m sorry.” She stepped closer to them.

                Tom stared at his feet, not daring to look up. Alisha was looking at Esaria, frightened by the man. He was a fat man, but richly clothed. His thin, greying hair was groomed well, though it was slightly askew from his evening at the tavern. His face was red with anger. Sarid stood not far his father, appearing smug. Yes, Tom could clearly see him arguing for he and Alisha to stay. Stay in the gutters and the streets.

                “They are filthy! Look at them! The boy has no shoes and with his hair like that I couldn’t even be sure he has eyes! Has he just been beaten? Unsurprising for his kind. The girl, well, we might be able to sell her hair,” the man spat.

                Alisha gasped and grabbed her hair.

                Sarid frowned. “Come on, Father. Let the poor girl keep her hair.” He smiled at Alisha.

                “Please, Ruvr. You have plenty to work in your shop. Let me have the boy. Please,” Esaria begged.

                Ruvr turned on Esaria. “Because I have the real business! Your petty little thread shack is nothing. I need the workers and you don’t. I am the man of this family until I die, and then Sarid is. You listen to him and you listen to me.” His hand shot out across her face and she recoiled.

                Sarid’s smirk only slightly faded at the action. Tom bristled at the sight.

                “Please,” Esaria whispered, shrinking from Ruvr.

                The man spat. “Fine. But do not ask me for money to pay them or more money for thread.” He stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

                A smile played on Sarid’s face. He took Alisha’s hand and kissed it. “Goodnight, fair lady.”

                Tom growled at Sarid, but the older boy just ruffled Tom’s hair and retired to his own room.

                Esaria sighed and collapsed on a chair, holding back tears. She felt the bruise on her cheek. Alisha walked over to her, and the woman smiled weakly. “Goodnight, Alisha. I apologize for my son and my husband’s actions. I hold no control over them. And goodnight, Tom. You begin work tomorrow. We shall go to the office first thing in the morning.”

                Tom bowed slightly and nodded. Her voice did not allow for arguing. He pulled Alisha away and they went upstairs. As soon as she touched the bed, Alisha was asleep. Tom laid out the blankets on the floor and lay down. He began to worry about the job and getting Alisha to her father, but he was already asleep before he managed to consider much.

A Tale About Dragons

Here's a little story to break up the other story. I'm telling you, awful with titles and names. Here goes nothing!

The day had been long in coming.

She had checked every day to see if had come yet.

It was the same routine: Wait until the sun dropped, watching the window every second of the day, as if she would miss nightfall. Then, when the moon and stars fought for the greatest claim on the sky, she opened her bottom dresser drawer slowly, carefully, so not to wake the house’s other inhabitants. She would take the large, heavy object and wrap it in a silk scarf, then clothe herself with a jacket on top of her nightgown. Slowly creaking open the door to reveal darkness and snow, she would bring a candle into the seemingly limitless abyss of night.

She never had to walk far, just a few yards from the house. She would kneel and place the object lightly in the packed snow before unwrapping the scarf. The object had stood out clearly in the night, even against the white of the snow. Its color was a milky silver that glowed in the darkness, the exterior almost appearing never endingly deep. She had known it wasn’t like that, though, for the surface was just that: something to hold the most beautiful part inside. And she was about to find out what really was inside.

She always had the same argument within herself. Should she get her family, in case something happened? They wouldn’t want to miss it, but she didn’t want to wake them up for nothing. But then, what if she missed something herself? No, she couldn’t take her eyes off it, not even to blink. As her eyes begged to wander elsewhere, the first crack was heard. She grinned and shivered with excitement. There was a full moon that night, so the moon’s power was at its strongest. Of course, it didn’t always happen then, but it was best when it did.

Another crack split through the silent night and the oddly shaped object. It was louder than the last one. Then, after a couple of seconds, another crack, and a split in the egg’s surface was broken straight down the middle. Yes, the object was an egg. It wasn’t a common egg, but neither a rare one. Unless you found one by accident, they cost thousands, and not many places sold them legally. Most trainers kept the eggs for practice and natural experimentations. The egg was about the size of a bread loaf, but ironically, the animal inside would grow thousands and thousands of times bigger. What she had was nothing less than a dragon egg.

Crrrrrrrack! A small piece of shell flew as the rest fell apart. She gasped. It was better than the legends and the tales said. She had never seen one before, only heard of them. Much better. The small creature made a noise that was akin to a chortle. Its skin was the same exact tone of its shell, and the wings stuck to its body to make it seem almost like mutated dog or cat. It stumbled back and forth over the remains of the egg shell, trying to stand. The dragon crowed triumphantly and flapped its tiny wings. It only had the wingspan of about a foot.

The girl smiled and gently reached out her hand. She almost pulled her hand back, though. Touching the dragon would make you a dragon rider, which was what she wanted, but it was a grave decision. She knew not to take it lightly. She glanced up at the dark, snow dotted sky. If the dragon did touch her, her eyes would change from their normal chestnut color to its silver. She glanced back at the little dragon, who continued to stumble around.

“You will need a name,” she said quietly, reaching her hand out farther. “What shall it be? Are you a boy or a girl anyway?” She examined it, still holding out her hand. “Boy. Let’s see…”

The dragon sat down on his hind legs, watching her curiously. He shook the gathering snow off the wide bridge of his nose. He suddenly stood and waddled toward her warily. He glanced up at her, looking right in her eyes. His nose shot out to sniff her hand and brushed it ever so softly.

The girl sucked in her breath as an icy cold shiver ran through her. It started at her hand and spread up to her heart and down to her toes. It was different than the shivers the snow brought her, much different. This was powerful, ancient. She felt more alive in that small moment than she ever remembered feeling. Then the power surged up to her head, bouncing around her brain almost painfully. There was a sharp change right before the feeling disappeared altogether.

“Oro.”

She had snapped her eyes open, not remembering having closed them, and she knew the dragon’s name. Oro. Word. It fit quite well. Everything she had ever heard of the dragons had been legend, and she had never seen one before. She had read about them in books and heard about cousins’ aunt’s mother’s gardener’s son being a dragon rider, but that was all just word. Now, in front of her, she had living, breathing word.

The dragon roared and nuzzled his nose against her, searching for warmth. He curled up beside her. She smiled and reached for the scarf she carried the shell in. In the morning, following tradition, she would bury the pieces. She wrapped the scarf around Oro and picked him up. He screeched and fought against her, tangling the scarf. She hushed him gently, calling his name. She held him against her carefully and began walking back to the house, this time, as a real dragon rider, silver eyes and all.

That Story That I Wrote But Couldn't Post Because I Had A Weird Week

First Chapter
Second Chapter
Third Chapter
Fourth Chapter
Fifth Chapter
Sixth Chapter

“Psst.” Such a quiet sound in the cacophony of voices. Tom froze where he stood, trying to find who had said it. His eyes swiveled around. Not Alisha. She was a few feet away, admiring more dolls.

“Psst.”

Tom turned to look, but fell against the wall, gasping. He had twisted the wrong way, causing his bruised body to resist. He groaned, but as he looked up, he caught the eye of a woman. She wore a yellow cloak with the hood pulled up. She made her way to him, but it was only until she was close enough that she touched his arm that Tom recognized her. It was the woman from the blacksmith.

                “What happened?” she said, lifting up his shirt to reveal more bruises.

                Tom growled and shoved her away, grimacing from the pain. “Nothing. What do you want?”

                The woman sighed and pushed her hood off her face. “Same thing you do, if I’m right. I need an apprentice.” She continued looking at his bruises, frowning.

                Tom stared at her. “You do? But, the blacksmith…” He had assumed the woman was his daughter or daughter in law. Not that the woman had a job.

                “The blacksmith was a customer,” she smirked. “He was buying a gift for his wife. I’m a seamstress. I need someone to run errands for me and do odd jobs. You have practically no choice but to say yes. I know what you are. Whoever else you ask will too. My shop is down there,” she said, pointing down the street left of them.

                Tom swallowed. He wanted to say no just to spite her. She was too confident, too certain of herself. Women weren’t supposed to be like that. He just wanted to prove her wrong. “I…” He frowned. Well, of course, he had to say yes. He glanced back to Alisha. He thought he would have time to help her. But now he had a trade instead.

                The woman followed his eyes. “Who is that? A sister?” She frowned. “I don’t have room for two. Not that much, anyway.”

                “Y-yes. A sister.” That was easier than the truth. “I- I will take your offer…”

                She smiled. “Good. I am Esaria. And you?”

                “Tom,” he said quietly. A trade. He had a trade. He now had a chance for a good future.

                “And the girl’s name?” Esaria asked, glancing at Alisha. “She’s a slave too?”

                Tom nodded. “Alisha.” He sighed. How was he supposed to get Alisha straight with her story? She wasn’t exactly a good liar.

                Esaria smiled. “Well, let’s go back to my husband’s house. He is working now, so we should be alone. Get your sister.”

                “Yes, ma’am,” Tom said, looking down. He walked over to Alisha and pulled her from the stand. “Listen, someone offered to hire me. I took the offer. We are going to stay at her house. You are pretending to be my sister, a slave.”

                Alisha stared at him, still holding her elephant. “Okay…” she said nervously.

                Tom sighed and walked back to Esaria, Alisha sticking to him. Esaria smiled at Alisha. “Hello, I’m Esaria.”

                Alisha smiled slightly. “I’m Alisha.” She put the elephant carefully under her arm.

                Esaria nodded. “Nice to meet you. Come on, now.” She turned and walked away. “This way. It’s not too far from the shop.”

She glanced behind her shoulder to make sure they were following. Alisha stayed close to Tom the whole time, and he couldn’t do much about it. She was his sister. “Right here,” Esaria directed, opening the door to a medium sized house. It was not exceptionally fancy, but only what was needed. It had different rooms, which was nice enough. They walked into an outer room for eating and having company, and there were two rooms off to the side. Tom had first thought she was going to put them in one of the rooms, but instead she led him to the roof. There was no real second floor to the house, only a small room built on top next to the staircase. Inside, it contained only a bed and a dresser; too much more and there wouldn’t be room to walk.

                “Here,” Esaria said. “Alisha will sleep on the bed. I’ll bring blankets up for you, Tom. I was only planning for one,” she said, pursing her lips.

                Tom grimaced. It was so small… Sure, it was nice to have a roof over his head, but for the two of them. Why did Alisha have to cause so many problems? Plus, he felt a little cheated at her offer so far. Any other apprenticeship would have come with a real place to stay. He wondered what the pay was going to be. They would have to head to the court to get the papers arranged.

                Alisha peeked in the room. She sat on the bed happily. “This is where we are going to live, Tom?” She placed the elephant on the dresser.

                “Yes…” Tom said.

                Esaria cleared her throat, seeing Tom’s dissatisfaction. She lowered her voice so only he could hear.  “I assumed this would do for one thief and ex-slave. I didn’t imagine I would have to accommodate two.”

                The words stung Tom. Of course. He was still being mistreated because he was a slave. Even now. “She is not a thief.”

                Esaria raised an eyebrow. “But she still is a slave. Only you could have the apprenticeship.”

                “But-” Tom bit his tongue. But she isn’t a slave, he wanted to say. He couldn’t. He bowed his head.

                “So, it suits you, Alisha?” Esaria said suddenly.

                Alisha smiled. “I’m used to a bit bigger, but it is very nice. Thank you.”

                Esaria raised an eyebrow. “A bit bigger?”

                Tom interrupted. “She means like, outside… ma’am.” He glanced at Alisha with a small frown, and she stared back sadly, obviously wondering what she had done to make Tom upset.

                Esaria didn’t seem to notice. She laughed. “Yes, outside is quite a bit bigger than this little room.” She sighed. “Alright, I’ll go get blankets for you.” She nodded and walked outside, going downstairs.

                “What, Tom?” Alisha said nervously. “What did I do?”

                He sighed and shook his hair. “Nothing… Just... You’re supposed to be poor, Alisha. You can’t be used to your huge house and servants. You will have to start doing things for yourself so Esaria doesn’t find out who you are.”

                “But why can’t she know? She seems nice, Tom!” Alisha pouted.

                “We don’t even know her!” Tom groaned. How could anyone be so thickheaded and so airheaded at the same time?

                Alisha huffed and crossed her arms, pouting. “I trust her.”

                Tom opened his mouth, but stopped as Esaria walked back in. She smiled innocently. “So, Tom, would you like to visit the shop? Alisha can stay here, if she would like.”

                “She does,” Tom said quickly, ignoring Alisha’s looks. She glared at him as they walked out. The shop really wasn’t that far away. It was a fairly large shop for being outside in the market, stuffed with dresses of vibrant colors. Esaria had a large loom set aside where she would thread in fabrics and make the dresses. Tom was to deliver dresses, pick up orders, and buy supplies. He might even make dresses, if Esaria gave him a warning that if he ever tried to steal even one inch length of a single thread, she would have his head cut off. Tom simply nodded. If he was to be paid and treated fairly, why would he have reason to steal?

                The day was almost ending by the time they were coming home. Esaria said she would begin making a small dinner, so he was to fetch Alisha. Tom ran up the stairs quietly and opened the door to the room.

                “Alisha,” he whispered. She had fallen asleep on the bed.  He gently touched her shoulder. “Alisha.”

                She sat up and moved her long hair away from her face. She glared at Tom. “What?” She crossed her arms.

                “Look, I’m sorry, Alisha.” Tom sighed. “I don’t want you to get me fired, and you must protect your identity.”

                Alisha was not satisfied with this at all. “I’m not scared of her. You won’t ignore me.”

                Tom scoffed. “I did it to protect both of us!”

                “Don’t do it again,” she snapped.

                He sighed and pulled her up. “We are to eat dinner. Now.” He practically dragged her down the stairs, as she made no effort to walk. As soon as Esaria came into view, Alisha straightened.

                “How are you?” Esaria asked her, handing Tom wood plates for him to place on the small table.

                Alisha smiled. “Very good. How are you?”

                Tom scowled and began setting out plates. He frowned. There were five of them. Counting Esaria’s husband, that was only four.

                “Well. Thank you,” Esaria smiled softly. A noise came from the door, and she turned. She motioned to Tom.

                He glowered silently, walking over to the door and opening it. A boy two years his elder stood at the door wearing the same expression as he. Tom’s eyebrows furrowed. Who was this? A son. He had Esaria’s eyes, but not her face or hair.

                “What? Who are you?” the boy spat. “Mother?” He shoved passed Tom and to Esaria. He gave Alisha a digusted look. “Father said not to hire anyone. He needs new tools for the shop.”

                Esaria’s face was placid. “I need someone to work as well. He has you and many other works, and I have no one. Also, where is he to argue now?”

                The boy growled. “He went to the tavern. I doubt he will be happy about this.”

                “Then let him deal with it when he returns. He knows as well I don’t like him going to the tavern, especially when he brings you,” she said, an edge finally coming into her voice.

                “It’s nothing, Mother.” The boy scoffed.

                Esaria clenched her teeth. “This is Tom and Alisha, and this is my son, Sarid,” she said quietly.

                Sarid stared at the two, lip curled. “You hired two? Father will be very mad…” He sat down at the table and grabbed some bread.

                “I hired the boy! That is his sister.” Esaria sighed. She sat down at the table as well, and Tom joined her. Alisha hesitated before sitting; Tom assumed she was waiting for someone to pull out her chair or some other ritual. She sighed and sat down. The table was awkwardly silent. Tom kept wondering how mad the father would be… just coming home from the tavern, too. Had he gotten anywhere at all?

The Tale Of Qirmizi (Okay, now I'm just putting random things up here.)

First Chapter
Second Chapter
Third Chapter
Fourth Chapter
Fifth Chapter

The sun had just peeked out above the never-ending world of sand, lighting everything with furious shades of bright yellows, reds, and whites, but the town of Qirmizi had been waiting for it to come. The brighter the rays, the more the people began their scurries around town. Tom yawned, excited that daylight had come. The counting the stars soon bored him, and the night dragged on without interruption. Once he thought he spotted movement, but it turned out to be nothing. Alisha was peacefully and happily asleep still, unaware that the rest of the world had started.

Tom rubbed his eyes tiredly and walked over to her. He gently shook her awake. "Miss, I have to go. I don't know how long I will be, but I will be back."

She stared at him, only half awake. "Oh," she said with disappointment. "Can I come, Tom? Please. I don't want to stay here by myself. It's scary..." Alisha bit her lip. "Yesterday was the worst day of my life."

You get used to it, Tom wanted to say. "Yes. I'm sorry... But I can't let you. It's not safe. If anyone other than me comes, run. Meet me later either back here or where you were serving first."

Alisha stared at Tom, frightened. "O- okay..."

"Good," Tom said. He sighed. She was useless for anything other than a bargaining piece, which was obviously her father's plan. He certainly didn't grow her up to be a personal adviser to the throne. He left her where she was, assuming she would be okay. She had not been harmed yesterday in all of the fire mess, so she could make it today. No one seemed to come around the area. He wandered out of the house, wincing at the sun. He put his hand over his eyes to block some of the brightness. Maybe it was this blocking of his view or simply his tiredness, that caused him not to see the man.

Before Tom knew what was going on, he was shoved against a wall with a knife to his throat. Tom cried out and opened his eyes fearfully to see who it was. He almost didn't recognize the man. Dark purple circles lay beneath the cold, black eyes that dug into Tom's face, searching. His confident air had been stolen and replaced with an fearful, unknowing, and violently unpredictable look to his expression. But, no matter how haggard the man suddenly appeared, Tom was still about to connect him with the captain of the guard.

The man cackled sporadically. Tom prayed someone would come by and notice them, but no one did. "W- what do you w- want?" he stuttered fearfully.

"I want my life back!" the man growled with sudden ferocity.

Tom cowered and flinched, shutting his eyes tightly. The captain was drunk too. The smell was overpowering. He was shoved into the wall harder.

"Well! Are you going to do something about it?!"

"S-s-sir..." Tom moaned. What could he do? It wasn't even Tom's fault. How had the captain even survived the wrath of the Emir's advisers? The knife pressed deeper against his throat. No, no, he had to do something... "W-what did I- I do?"

The captain spat in Tom's face, receiving another flinch. "You ruined my life you little worthless piece of skin and bone! If I hadn't been busy dealing with you, I would have saved my job! It's all your fault!" he screamed.

Tom yelled. He had chosen a spot to put Alisha in too isolated... No one was around to hear them. The knife's pressure was taken off his throat. He sighed in relief, but before he had even finished letting out his breath, he felt a blow to the gut. He groaned and clutched his stomach, but the captain hit him again. Tom fell to the ground as he gasped for breath, but the man didn't stop. He began kicking Tom, as well as hitting him, and Tom couldn't recover enough to run or get anyway at all. He moaned and curled into the fetal position. No, not this... not again! He felt blood dripping down him from somewhere. Everything hurt.
And then it all faded.

The next thing Tom knew was he was staring at his blood stained hands. They really did have blood on them now. He hadn't moved from his curled up position on the ground at all. He was in too much pain. The curse. The stupid curse. He groaned. The sun was about in the middle of the mockingly pleasant looking blue sky. He closed his eyes and hugged his knees, his hands scratching against dried blood. He could tell his back was bleeding too from the way his shirt stuck to him. What had happened? The captain just starting beating him without reason...

He froze. The captain had to have followed him to the house and waited. He knew where Alisha was. He needed to get his job back, something to offer. Tom stood up, but his knees buckled. He grabbed onto the nearby wall and steadied himself. He moaned. He was incredibly stiff and sore. He lifted up his shirt before hurrying to put it back down. That was one of the worst he had ever been hurt. He stumbled back over to the house, wondering if Alisha had heard. She hadn't, because when Tom came in she was asleep again.

"Miss," he said with relief.

Alisha sat up and looked at him. "Tom! What happened?" she said in horror.

Tom's eyebrows met and he looked down at himself. He was covered in sand, blood, and bruises. He growled and began rubbing off the sand and blood without trying to press hard on the bruises. It didn't work.

"Tom!" Alisha pressed, standing. She frowned, unsure of what to do. He was in a filthy state and scared her slightly.

"What?" Tom spat, in an understandable bad mood. He finished brushing himself off and shook his head to fix his hair.

She bit her lip. "Are you okay?"

Tom pressed his stomach, cringing. "That doesn't matter..." he said gruffily. "Come on. We're going to the market." They had to get away from the house. He reached into his pocket; yes, he still had the coins he had gotten from the blacksmith the day before. One or two had been lost, but most of them were still there.

"You'll take me?" Alisha said, immediately brightening.

Tom nodded. “Come on,” he sighed and lead her out. If the place was being watched… He would have to find another place to hold Alisha, if he dared to leave her alone. Every step hurt him. He moved slowly, while Alisha was already walking far ahead of him. He frowned and told her to slow down. She sighed and waited for him.

"Hurry!" she said with impatient excitement.

"Yeah, yeah..." Tom growled. He winced.

Alisha watched with worry. "You never said what happened. What's wrong, Tom?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" he sighed.

She watched him for a moment before sniffing. "Fine." Her smile returned. "What's the market like, Tom?"

"Busy. Dangerous," he admitted. How was this a good idea? Alisha wasn't a good idea.

"Pretty?" Alisha said hopefully.

Tom pursed his lips. "You will see."

And it turned out that the market was all of these things. It was at one of its busiest times and Tom and Alisha could hardly lift one foot without getting turned in the other direction. Alisha could hardly take it all in, thinking everything the most amazing and beautiful thing she had ever seen. She would flitter from one stand to another, squealing at the seamstresses' dresses of thousands of colors to the small dolls the toymakers had.

Tom would watch, only hoping to keep up with her. He smirked at how easily amused she was, with a small wish he could be that way. Her deep violet eyes stayed wide and filled with pleasure the entire time. She lacked any sense of worry or danger. Tom ended up being so tense, and he spent his time looking for anyone that would want to hurt Alisha or him.

"Tom!" Alisha gasped, looking at another stand. He groaned and walked over, seeming shrunken in his condition. "Look..." she pointed. Tom followed her gaze to see a small clay molded elephant. It was painted grey with vibrant colors of purple and pink, with jewels painted on the top of the elephant's head. An intricate little basket was also on the elephant, and Tom would have almost believed it could all come to life. "Please?" Alisha said, staring up at him and biting her lip.

Tom sighed and smiled wryly, fishing a coin out of his pocket. "Fine. But that is it."

Alisha nodded. "I know!" she said happily.

The man behind the stand glanced between Tom and Alisha and received the coin, giving Alisha the elephant. Alisha squealed and held it in her hands carefully. Tom smirked at her, making sure as she walked so entranced in the little figurine she didn't run into anything. He began getting hungry so he bought them some honeyed bread. Alisha was so delighted in it, which amazed Tom continually. He didn't even know where they were going to spend the night.

Title!

First Chapter
Second Chapter
Third Chapter
Fourth Chapter



Tom paled. This was grander than he thought. He had assumed the fire would have been the work of a lone troublemaker's work, someone with misplaced blame on their misfortune. But the fact that someone would try to kill Qirmizi's leader, that someone would actually succeed in killing the Emir...this meant something entirely different. It meant that someone, a rich man, hired an official assassin to kill the Emir. The only person with the means and audacity to do that would be a king.


And that meant there would be war.



When Tom reached the neighborhood Alisha had been, his mood became sour. It was already dark now. She had either run before the fire and now was lost in the crowd that had been running from the fire or she had been taken by kidnappers, slavers, or royal guards. Tom frowned. So it was unlikely she was safe. He glanced at his hands bitterly.

"So the curse is real... that's the one thing I can be sure of," Tom muttered. He stumbled into the house and rubbed the bruise on his stomach, cursing the guards of Qirmizi. Though, with what happened today, they would need us much luck as they could get. No wonder the captain had ran away from the cell in such a hurry and had let out all the prisoners. And that's why he would soon be without his head...

"Tom?" A small whimper came from the corner.

Tom froze in fear for a moment, before recognizing it was Alisha. "Miss!" he cried and walked blindly over to where her voice came from. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he spotted her curled up as far into the corner as possible. When he came near, she flung her arms around Tom's neck.

"Tom!" she sobbed, crying into him immediately. Tom shivered and tried not to push away. She wasn't going to hurt him. She couldn't even if she wanted to, but she probably did.

"I- I'm sorry. I would have checked in on you if I could have, Miss." Tom said quietly to her.

Alisha shook and tears flowed steadily down her face. "What happened, Tom? People were screamng! The noise of it all... it was awful, Tom!"

Tom nodded. "I'm sorry." He was surprised she was still here, but relieved. Nothing would happen to her, and now he had no worries about him not being around. He had nothing to do. No person in their right mind would take a slave as their apprentice, especially not one who had just escaped prison. And if they only knew the extent of it. If Alisha knew the extent of it. Tom frowned at the thought. She trusted him, stupid girl, and he had to help her now. As he looked down at her, crying as she pressed her head against his chest, he wondered if he had gone mad. On the way to Qirmizi, it was possible. Too much exposure to the sun. Many men and women had fallen to it. They would imagine things and talk nonsense, before being exiled by their family. Tom had no family, but he certainly wouldn't be getting a new master.

Tom almost swore, catching himself before Alisha heard. He couldn't imagine the king's anger when his daughter was returned, but not as the innocent thing as she was before. But now Tom could never get hired again as a slave. Tom shuddered. he would be that man Alisha was scared of, the one with no hands. Tom just had two, cursed hands. What was better? Freedom and satisfaction. That's all Tom wanted in life, nothing more, and that's all he couldn't have.

Alisha had stopped crying, so Tom gently pushed her away. She sniffed and stared up at him. "Do you have a handkerchief?" she inquired.

Tom blushed and shook his head. No slave would have that except the king's official nose blower, and nothing but royal mucus would be allowed to touch it. But Tom mused bitterly, Alisha would be able to use the handkerchief. Even Alisha was now lacking hers though, due to her position. Her normal, elegant dresses and outfits Tom imagined she would have had obviously been taken by the kidnappers, leaving her only with a slave's dress, which was neither flattering nor clean. She still wore a rough pair of flats that once were fit for a princess, but no longer maintained a sense of grace and money.

As Tom examined Alisha in her pauper's clothing, it gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction, while the sense completely appaled another part of him. He felt so proud that someone of such high stature could be so quickly be brought down to his level. Maybe, just maybe, the opposite could happen to him. He really didn't need to be in a palace or court, but a nice house, with a few slaves of his own... that would be perfect.

Alisha began crying quietly again, moving back to bury her head in him. Tom frowned. This wasn't his job, so why was he doing it? He really didn't know. Alisha? He knew next to nothing about her. For fame? He was a slave. Anyone would see it as Tom doing his duty. For the money? Again, he wasn't going to get any of it. No one would care to see him rewarded. Plus, when they arrived to wherever they were going, Alisha would once again be locked up in her room, staying unknowing forever.

Yes, that might be why he was doing it. Maybe he was interested in how a human could be so stupid in the ways of the world, and he wanted to show that Alisha that the world was an evil, cruel place. Tom completely believed seeing all this would help her somehow. He wouldn't tell her his past or take her to a tavern in the middle of the night, but if he could just make her understand the world they lived it. How it hurt. How it was selfish. How it enjoyed others' pain and was only happy with seeing the helpless in pain. Tom's parents hadn't done anything to deserve their misfortunes. And yet, they had been taken from Tom anyway.

And Tom, Tom was only trying to live. He had no food; he was forced to steal. Masters beat him; he had to run away. And his other secret... That had never been branded on him, because the only scar he would recieve from that would have been the cuts from the noose. It had been self preservation. He hadn't meant to. Right? There had to be a difference between the two.

"Where were you, Tom?" Alisha whispered.

Tom frowned. "I was trying to come, Miss. There was a big fire at the Emir's palace."

"A fire?" Alisha sniffed. "Was anyone hurt?"

"The Emir died." Tom said quietly.

Alisha gasped. "Oh no! Who is going to lead the town?"

Tom shrugged. "A new leader will be chosen. The town will be unsettled for a while, but if it is a good Emir, the city will be settled soon."

"And if it isn't?" she asked, scooting back on the sack bed and lying down.

"Then Qirmizi will have a rough future."

Alisha nodded and her eyes closed. "Tom?" she said, half asleep.

Tom watched her. "Yes, Miss?" But she had already slipped into the realm of dreams. Tom stood and walked over to the doorway. He leaned against the wall and stared into the night. He wouldn't let himself sleep, not with the city in such a state. It would be a long night, even though it had already began. He bid his time counting the stars and wondering what his cursed life had ready to throw at him next.

Tom!

No, I don't have a title yet. :p

First Chapter
Second Chapter
Third Chapter

Alisha shivered.

She stood a few steps away from the doorway, wondering where Tom was. When he was coming back. If he was coming back. She whined. She was so dumb. She had told him to leave her because she had gotten mad. Now Tom wasn't coming back. Tom was upset and he had shown it by leaving. She was going to be kidnapped. She hugged herself. She had been kidnapped once. Tom had said he was going to let it happen again, and if it did, there was nothing Alisha could do to stop it. She was a princess, weak. This was just awful!

She was lost. Terribly lost. She needed Tom. She didn't know where he was. She didn't know where she was and needed to get back to Father. Father was probably so worried. Would he be mad at her? Father was the only one whoever got mad at her. Father. And Tom. She stared out the doorway, looking for a sign he was coming back. Alisha turned away from the doorway. No. She didn't need Tom. He was not her slave, and she couldn't treat him as one. So what was she waiting for? She should find someone to help her. A guard, or an official. That might work; Father said to trust them.

But what if they wanted to kidnap her too? The men before had said they were guards, hadn't they? And Tom said not to tell anyone who she was. Alisha spun around, staring through the doorway once more. Tom, where are you? Alisha pleaded silently. A figure passed by in the distance, raising Alisha's hopes. It looked like a man. She watched hopefully. The figure came closer. Alisha could finally see his face. Her smile faded, until it turned into a depressed frown. No. Not Tom. Tom had left, and he wasn't coming back. And it was all her fault.

Tom felt like it had been ages trapped in the cell before the captain came. The guards had dragged him to the small prison and shoved Tom in a small cell, only about five feet deep on each side. Tom sat, huddled against the wall for a while. His stomach had acquired a new bruise from where the guard punched him, and his arms had marks from the soldiers' firm grip. Tom hugged his knees. They were going to kill him. He moaned. Or, if they didn't, it would be worse...

His mind flashed back to a different time and place.

But you could barely tell.

Tom was still in a prison, just a little smaller. You couldn't tell whether he was more terrified then than now. He was in about the same pose, curled against the corner. Footsteps, clear and heavy. Guards'. Metal armor clanging along with the spears that soon peaked around the corner. Two of them. One went about unlocking the door, and both faces were serious. The guard watched Tom carefully, glaring with extreme loathing. Tom couldn't differ. He hated himself then, but for different reasons. For getting caught. For getting in there. For getting himself killed.

"Last wishes, thief?" the guard with the keys spat as he swung the door open.

Tom mumbled something as he was yanked to his feet.

"Too bad. No one like you is gonna get any kind of special treatment," the other guard growled and shoved Tom out of the cell.

Then a blur. Tom pulled out his dagger. The guards lowered their spears. Tom's arm was cut, but he remembered that guard falling to ground in a TERRIFYING puddle of blood. Then, in the other guard's surprise, Tom pushed his dagger into the other man. And then Tom ran. And ran. Ran away from everything he had known, except his dagger and his marks. He ended up in many places, all of them worse than the last. The beater. The drunk one. The one who never fed him. His scars would let Tom get away with nothing.

Tears streamed down his face as he knew what fate lied ahead of him. The fate of a dead man, or the fate of a murderer. He was stuck. They would not go easy on him. They would look into his records and see what he had done… Tom was going to die. He sobbed into his knees.

“If you are going to steal from someone in this town, you should at least be a man about it,” a man said.

Tom glanced with red eyes at the large man before him, who Tom recognized as the captain of the guard. The captain stared at Tom with open revulsion and hatred. Tom cowered and hugged his knees tighter. This man would be the death of him. Or others. Tom couldn't help it as his fingers grasped the hilt of his dagger slowly. It was his only comfort here. Or anywhere. The man wore clothes like the guard: tan tunic and pants with a sash to show their allegiance to Qirmizi. This man also wore a dark brown vest and a cloth around his head to shield his face from sand and sun. The head covering gave the captain's face a shadowy, brooding look. Tom could only just see the man's dark, pebble eyes staring at him with a scowl to kill.

The captain kicked the bars, causing Tom to shake more. "What's your name, slave?" the man barked.

Tom winced and turned his head away, keeping his eyes on the hard ground.

"Now!" the man demanded, frowning. "Listen to me, slave; this can be done quickly or not quickly. I will determine how much clearance you get, and I can have you get by unscathed, or I can have you killed. You want to be on my good side, don't you?"

Tom moaned and buried his head in his knees. If he told the captain his name, Tom would be found out all the sooner.

The captain sighed and squatted. "How old are you, slave?"

"F-four, fourteen." Tom whispered.

"Fourteen? Where are you from?" the captain continued in a calm, but firm voice. "Here, or out of town?"

Tom swallowed and paled. He couldn't answer that either.

"I have a son your age," the captain said, changing subjects. "He's got the same color hair as you, but shorter. Your masters didn't take good care of you, did they? Is that why you ran away?" His voice was strained to stay level. When Tom refused to answer, the captain stood and kicked the cell. Tom yelled and scrambled away from the side of it. "What's your name, slave!" Tom curled back into the fetal position, hoping the captain wouldn't try to hurt him again. Another kick was sent to the bars though.

Suddenly, screams were heard from outside the jail. People fled past the doorway, and sounds of fighting soon accompanied the yells. The captain glanced at Tom, swore, and ran out, already taking his sword out of his sheath. Tom watched in dismay, standing and staring through the bars. He saw the chaos from his seemingly calm and safe place inside.

Alisha!

Oh no...had she been kidnapped? What happened? Was someone ransoming her right now? Visions of her in tight bonds and surrounded by men who wanted to hurt her filled Tom's vision. He pursed his lips. He had to get out. He had already tried to pick the lock, though. He swallowed as the havoc from outside continued, and he had no idea what it was. Tom couldn't see any guards or the captain now. What if some danger was coming through the city, and since Tom couldn't leave, he would die? He moaned and tugged on the bars. Nothing. He hadn't really expected them to just move right out of the way, though. He ran a hand through his long hair. Great. What happened?!

The fleeing seemed to relax for a while, but maybe because the people were no longer fleeing where Tom was. He was sitting in a corner of the cell with a very hopeless attitude. He dug his dagger into the ground. It was getting dark. He was hungry. The city was probably ruined. The princess was long gone. The guards were all dead and no one had the keys to the cell. He would be stuck here forever, trying to see whether boredom or hunger killed him first. He kept pressing the dagger into the ground, distracted enough to not see the man come in for a while.

At first, Tom thought it was one of the city's attackers, coming to end his life short and quick. Tom had mixed feelings about this, but it didn't matter. It was not an attacker, it was the captain of the guard. Tom shrunk away, but the man was too busy unlocking the door. Tom scowled. He would die now. Maybe the captain found Tom guilty for whatever anarchy happened before. Tom stared at the man, whose face was red and he was fumbling with the keys. Finally, he opened the door and motioned for Tom to get out. The captain began running to another corridor, but paused and stared at Tom.

"Go! Now! While you can!" he growled.

Tom hesitantly stood again, nearing the door. "W-why?"

The captain gave a twisted smile. "Instead of you being dead, it looks like it might be me. Now run, I want to give the next captain a run for his money." His face began serious in a certain amount of cruelty and vengefulness, and he ran to release more prisoners.

Tom only paused a second more before running out. He slipped out of the doorway and retreated to a shadow. When he looked at the city, he was in shock. The main building, that Tom had sorely avoided, the palace, had smoke rising above it. A fire. That made sense. The water would have been scarce to put it out. It might not have been so bad, since Qirmizi was built next to a river. Tom had also avoided that. He wasn't used to such large, powerful things, and it would have too many people flocking around it. Tom also couldn't swim. Who could, really? Tom's mind went back to the fire. Who started it? The fire was much too close to the palace to have been an accident, that was obvious.

Wanting to see exactly what happened, Tom wandered to the outskirts of the city. He spotted a small boy of about five and grabbed his arm. Tom wasn't as hesitant to talk to people, seeing as whatever he did would be fairly dwarfed by the fire. "What's your name?" he asked the boy quietly.

"Samer," the boy said, staring up at Tom. He pulled his arm away and picked up a rock interestedly. He wore no shirt, just rough cloth shorts.

"Yeah? Samer? Do you know what happened, Samer?"

Samer turned serious. "Our Emir. Emir Zafir was killed," he said with wide eyes.

Huzzah!

Here is the (kinda short) third chapter. Look at that, two posts in one day.

(Btw, happy birthday, Dad!)

First Chapter
Second Chapter

Tom’s stomach protested every step. But he had to keep going. She told him to go, and he had placed her somewhere she should be safe. He could get on with life for a little bit, maybe even a few hours. She wasn’t stupid; she would live. Tom scoffed at his thoughts. She hadn’t even known when she was kidnapped and he expected her to make her own decisions and protect herself if anything happened… So really, nothing could happen. Tom groaned and forced himself to keep going. He wasn’t anyone’s slave.

Which exactly what he was going to try to do. He would start this very moment, forgetting about Alisha and princesses and kidnapping, and he would find a trade. He wandered through the city a bit, looking for someone that had something that would work for Tom. He had no idea what kind of job he wanted, but he knew he couldn't really be picky. It was only midmorning, so most of the workers should be in their workplaces. He clearly avoided the bakery, still feeling awful about that. This town wasn't his home town; that's for sure.

Tom swallowed, staring at his bare feet on the doorway. He shouldn’t even try. He should go back and make sure Alisha was okay. She was probably bored and might get into trouble. What if she left the house and got kidnapped again? Or what if a slaver found her? Tom shuddered at the thought. It was one thing for someone to think you were a slave, but another for you to be one. There were processes... Tom tried not to think about it. Not that he wanted to think about what he was trying to do now, and probably going to fail doing.

               The door opened to reveal an older woman, about thirty. Her black hair was in a bun at the top of her head, and her eyes were sharp, yet kind. The woman gazed at him with a mixture of pity and distaste. Tom hadn't seen the woman when he spied on the shop before. Just a man who Tom now spotted behind the woman. He had on an apron and held a small hammer in his hand, for Tom had gone to the smithy.

Tom had gone to the smithy for a couple of reasons. One, it looked fairly empty, not many workers. This mean Tom would have less people to deal with and less people asking questions about him. Also, the smith seemed a calm and nice man. Tom knew just by watching for a few minutes what kind of character he would be like. The smith also didn't seem to be a drinker. Easily read, so any mood swings would show warning signs. Tom really just wanted a master that would be an apprentice type of master, and not a slave master.

"What do you need, boy? This isn't a charity." the woman said coolly, but still frowned with gentleness. Her eyes searched Tom's face.

Tom turned red and lowered his gaze. "Ma'am, I would be pleased to know if I could find anywhere I might serve as an apprentice," he mumbled.

"Son, speak clearly," the smith said, not unkindly.

The woman stared with curiosity.

"I would like to enter into an apprenticeship, sir." Tom repeated, louder. His eyes were still locked on the ground.

"Why hasn't your father already set you with a trade? Why not learn his?" The woman asked. She didn't wait for an answer though, but she grabbed Tom's wrist and yanked him around, pulling up the back of his shirt. Tom gave a surprised yelp before grimacing. He knew exactly what the two adults were seeing. A couple of whip scars, one circular scar on the bottom right of his back, and an "X" on the bottom left. The latter two were both made by fire and iron, a brand. The circle one was a small seal that marked him as a slave. The "X" was to show two different things. One slash was to show he was a thief; another was to show he was a runaway.

The man grunted. "Why have you come here, slave? Do you want to rob me, too?"

"N-no, s-sir," Tom stammered in fear after the woman released him.

"Wish to waste years of my life, and then leave before the apprenticeship is finished? Waste my time, money, and effort?" the man growled.

"N-no, sir!" Tom said. He had known this was a bad idea.

The smith sighed. "Come here, boy."

Tom's legs had been halfway to the abandoned house at that point. He trembled and shook his head.

The woman just watched with a tender look as the smith called again.

Tom hesitantly stepped into the workshop and over to the smith slowly. His legs were heavier than ever, and he was forcing himself each step. "Sir?"

"I believe you," the smith put a hand on Tom's shoulder, ignoring the small flinch. "I do not think you wish to continue the thieving or running. No one likes to run," he said quietly.

Tom gave a faint smile in relief. Not only was the smith not going to hurt him or take him to the officials, the man wasn't mad at all. He seemed okay with Tom. Tom began growing a small hope.

"But-" The word, such a small word, dashed Tom's hopes and shattered them to a million pieces. "I am old and have already taught my own sons. I don't want to make a promise I will be too old to complete. Sorry, boy," the smith sighed and pushed a few coins in Tom's hand. "Good luck to you."

Tom’s smiled had been stripped off his face. He shoved the coins in his pocket and headed out, under the watchful eye of the two adults. He stepped out and sighed, shaking his long hair out of his face. He groaned as he slipped into the crowd. He had failed. Miserably. He was never going to find a trade; no one would take him. His hand felt the marks on his back. Not as long as those were there and it was impossible they could go away. The brands were deep and made well.

Tom pulled out the coins in his pocket with a sigh. It was a little bit of money, but not too much. Not enough to buy his freedom. Those prices constantly moved up with your age, doubling, tripling, until it was nigh impossible to buy yourself out of slavery. Tom glanced back at the house. If someone wasn't afraid of him and his past, yet still didn't want to have him as an apprentice, there really was no hope. He put the gold coins back. Now what? Keep searching for a master, or give up? He could go back to Alisha. His stomach churned, hoping she was okay.

Suddenly, a yell. A man came running down the said road as Tom. He yelled again, "It's the thief!" Only then did Tom notice that the man was looking straight at him, speeding toward Tom.

Tom paled and turned on his heel, rocketing away. Oh gosh, someone had recognized him. It was the man the baker had been talking to. Tom cursed, realizing he had wandered onto the same street as before. At least now he knew the way. The wall. He was coming up to the wall. Tom turned the same direction as before, but this time he didn't hit the wall. He knew if he ran a certain way, he could find his way to where Alisha was 'serving' and where she was now. But the man knew where he was going too.

When Tom was turning to go to the house, the man jumped out in front of Tom. Tom swore and ran the other way, and now he was completely lost again. A few more people had joined the chase. Tom wondered what the smith would think if he heard that Tom was indeed continuing his life of a thief. He really didn't want to, maybe. It was the only life he found easiest. Where else could he get food if he didn't take it? He usually didn't take the best, fresh bread, only the old bread. But Tom could tell by the angry yells of the people behind him, not everyone agreed that this was any better. He sped up, only to have to dodge a woman and her child. He ended up falling and landing on his face. He was roughly yanked onto his feet by a firm hand.

He winced under the gaze of the baker's friend, who held the back of Tom's neck tightly. Tom tried to shrink away, but the man held him firm. A couple guards joined the man, and a crowd of people flocked. For the second time that day, a person from behind him, presumably a guard, examined Tom's scars.

"Slave," a deep voice said with revulsion. "Thief and runaway."

The baker's friend spat. "I knew it!" He shoved Tom roughly, and the boy stumbled into some guards. He shrunk further, fingers reaching for his dagger.

"We'll take 'im to the captain. If a cell doesn't fix his attitude, there are other things for a slave like him..." the guard growled, grabbing Tom. Another guard did the same, and no matter how much Tom tried to wrench away, he couldn’t. “Hold still!”

After one more attempt to escape, a guard punched Tom in the stomach. Tom gasped and tried to recover his breath. It was too late to run now.