Mysten: Part 1 by Nicola Collings (inspirational books for women .TXT) 📕

Part 1:

                Jax looked up at his mother, with a sense of defiance that could only have come at the very pinnacle of the argument.

                “You are not going. Jax, you’re just not going. And that is the end of it. You will not end up like Jori.” The overtone of anger was almost unbearable, except for the underlying sense of deep hurt that Jax saw in her eyes almost every day.

                “I can’t just stay, mother. I can’t just sit here! I have to make them proud!” he cried, way past the point of desperation. She should have known by now that nothing she could have said would make him stay. It wasn’t that Jax hated her for this. In fact, he pitied her.

                “I can’t do it, Jax!” anger turned to pain in less than a second. “I can’t lose anyone else!”

                “Father always told us that doing something is better than doing nothing!”

                “He was wrong! Jax, he was so wrong!” she turned and leant on the wooden kitchen worktop, knocking aside an iron pan.

                “He wasn’t. You know it.”

                Silence fell as Jax stood, reaching for his spear and shield, leant against the wall of the hut. There was nothing more she could have said. She said it all just by the way she looked at him as she turned, her beaten hands crumpled into one another, frantically.

                He wanted to say he’d write. He wanted to say he’ll be back by dark, like he did every day. But no matter how hard he tried, no words could stop the tears now rolling down her face. He crossed the kitchen and gave her one final hug. A hug that would have made him thought she’d not have let go if he’d pulled back hard enough.

                Jax left the hut, hearing the door creak closed accompanied by desperate wails.

                The town was quiet, especially for midday; the time when everybody usually escaped their homes to crowd the markets and taverns. The town of Gentel was small yet oddly famous for it’s market that stretched almost the length of the main thoroughfare. Jax followed the cobbled street, passing stall after stall of solemn market sellers stood behind boxes of exotic yet forgotten fruits, talismans and tomes.

                Of course, they all knew they’d probably lose a lot of custom today.

                Jax approached the sign-up office in the square. He’d never seen so many people in one place, and although the confrontation with his mother has left him in a sorrowful mood, the sight impressed him.

                He spied his friend, Grayson, stood at the edge of the square, beneath the balcony of a nearby tavern, to shield from the sun. The dwarf stood about half Jax’s height, however, the hammer his father had given him reached Jax’s head. As Jax got closed, he couldn’t help but smirk at his choice of clothing; a helmet that looked too big for him yet adorned with crystal spikes and iron armour that looked like he’d smithed it himself. Jax’s father had previously been a smith before he’d gone into the army and he couldn’t help but notice the poor welding and the flaws in the tempering. Grayson wore his bear in a plat with braids twisted around it and tiny crystal that poked out, catching the light of the son.

                “Gods, Grayson, what do you plan to do to the Dwergi, scare them to death?” Jax already felt his mood lifting.

                “Hey, this is traditional dwarf fashion!” he said from beneath his helmet. “And if dwarf fashion will make them shit themselves and die, then maybe it’s a good thing, too! Anyway, where’s your armour?”

                “I don’t have any.”

                “You’re a smith aren’t you? Couldn’t you have thrown something together this morning?” Grayson smiled, wryly.

                “I...didn’t have time.” Jax looked away for a second. “Anyway, you can talk about me not having armour, but by the looks of yours you won’t have any for very long.”

                “Hey! Made this myself, I did!”

                “I mean look at that welding! And...is that an attempt at an insignia?”

                Grayson looked up, proudly. “I just wanna look the part. Anyway, c’mon, we better get in the queue.” He slapped Jax on the back and led the way.

                As they made their way to the queue, Jax couldn’t help but find the faces of weeping women watching their loved ones leave and wishing his mother was here. He knew it’d be hard without her, but the wailing women weren’t helping. He passed humans, elves, dwarves, face after face red with tears. The queue for Bayard’s army was a colourful image; humans carrying swords that must have been double their own length, mages in elegant armour with bare arms revealing black tattoos of glyphs, staffs, axes, helmets...

                And then Jax spotted the bright blue banner, the insignia of a hand splayed outwards with a crown over it embroided onto the front.

                He was actually doing this! He was actually standing where his father stood! Maybe he’d come back to Gentel marked a hero as his father was.

                The queue went slow, but Jax and Grayson managed to pass the time by wondering to themselves who else was joining up. They knew Graze was, the timid yet somewhat violent elf who favoured his one-handed sword was also signing up, along with Bo, the amateur Mage Warrior who liked to think she was trained in the Staff. The elf had always thought she was better than she was, and was always surprised when she found out she actually wasn’t a natural.

                However, there were no sign of these two, no matter how hard Jax tried to pin point them in the crowd of future-soldiers.

                As they neared the front of the queue, Jax spotted a lonely cluster of people stood behind the sign-up desk beneath the shade of a tavern balcony. He identified Mara, the owner of the local bakery, looking rather forlawn, and the tailor, Carva. Both of whom Jax had spoken to at one time of another. They had an air of sorrow about them that Jax could imagine on his mother’s face.

                How he wished he could say goodbye to her one last time...

                “Name?”

                Jax looked up to the face of the grumpy looking dwarf sat behind the desk.

                “Jax.” He replied.

                “Profession?”

                “I’m sorry?”

                The dwarf sighed. “What is it you want to do in the army?”

                Jax paused. “Fight?”

                The dwarf rolled his eyes and put his head in his hands. “How?”

                “Oh, er, Spear and Shield.”

                “Thank you.” He huffed, scribbling on a piece of paper.”Age?”

                “18.”

                “Thank you.” He motioned to the left, to where several large horse-drawn carts sat full of future-soldiers. Jax waited for his friend before proceeding. The cart smelled of sweat and was roomy at first. Jax sat opposite Grayson on the wooden benches built into the sides, but ended up halfway up the cart as more and more people were crammed inside. It was a couple of hours before the carts got moving. Jax twisted in his seat to look out of the window, only to see Gentel moving away from his as the line of about 30 carts made its way through the foothills.

                It wasn’t long before the town had disappeared all together, and Jax could only wonder how long it would be before he walked this path again, except in the opposite direction.

                                                                                                *

                Ubi sat in her room, gently flipping through the tome Sir Yester had given her to study. The tome, thick as it was, was about much of the things Ubi already knew, and lately, it seemed to her that her studies were no longer about learning as much as she could, and more about getting good at what she was already good at.

                In fact, her whole life had become rather boring every since she’d stepped foot inside the University. She hadn’t stepped off campus into the rest of Torbric in months, she hadn’t spoken to anyone not from the University in ages and the person and saw most often was depressingly Sir Yester, her tutor.

                She longed to be allowed access to the battle magic books in the library, or at least learn something she hadn’t practiced before. Like staffs. She liked staffs.

                Instead, she got to sit inside and study crystals. All day. Every day.

                She stood up and crossed the small room to the window. The University rooms were always small with students, but Ubi’s family were thankfully rich enough to buy her a room that was private and not some bed in a huge, shared hall.

                Ubi’s family were of course, rich enough to buy her a lot of things. Just not the things she wanted.

                She gazed at the view of Torbric from her window and sighed, finding herself thinking of all the soldiers going off to war. Many of the students of Mourning University had left to join; those studying Mage Healing or training how to be a Mage Warrior. This only left the scholars. And what joyful conversation they were. She looked down to the courtyard.

                Mages of all sorts, humans, elves and dwarves, all with differently designed staffs and pouches full of crystals filled out of the gates to go off to fight. In some ways, she wished she was down there with them. Off on an adventure! To fight Dwergi and slay the unfaithful! Actually using their abilities instead of reading about them.

                Ubi had practised actually using magic; on her own, of course, while no one was around. She could perform most of the basic stances with ease and some of the more advanced ones just as well. Of course it didn’t help that her staff was stolen from the stores and the crystals were limited. She had to be careful- if she returned them smashed she’d be in big trouble.

                Sometimes she wondered if she knew more about the physical use of crystal than the science.

                In silence, she left her room and strode down the elegant corridor, towards the great hall. The university itself was magnificent! The main hall was a trove of Elven architecture; pale bricks that caught the sun on their reflective surfaces and decorated with intricate statues atop each pillar. A huge statue stood in the middle, carved from Elven marble, holding a staff with a crystal carved from black stone at the top.

                Despite the University and most of Mourning being built by the Elves in ancient times, most of the students were human, very little of them dwarves. Racism had died out a long time ago.

                At the bottom of the grand staircase, Ubi turned back on herself and headed for the library; a huge hall mirroring the same design as the main hall, but filled with wooden bookcases which were, in turn, filled with books. If one wasn’t vigilant enough, one could get lost among the maze of bookcases!

                She made her way to the warrior section, making sure no one of worth was watching, before delving into staff magic and crystal types.

                At least an hour must have gone by, before the light of the day slowly faded into shades of deep blues and Ubi heard movement from across the library.

                She froze, listening.

                For a few moments there was nothing. And then footsteps.

                She stood, being careful not to make her book fall and thump to the ground. The footsteps were moving around her, to the right. Ubi backed down the line of bookcases and made her way to the back of the library.

                The footsteps got steadily faster, and there was a male gasp. Ubi paused. It sounded scared, terrified even. The footsteps stopped, and she could hear the muffled heavy breathing of someone who’s run