In Andoths...
Surrounded by mountains and the Savon River- dark restless waters, whispering secrets from the highlands. Thick mist cloaked the land, the air was crisp, laced with a scent of damp stone and distant pine. Four large buildings dominated the land, rising from the mist. Their stone walls were ancient, weathered by time. The silence of Andoths was heavy, broken by the wind threading through the mountain.
The trio (Tyra, Isadore and Rachel) stood before the large rusty iron gates laced with withered tree branches. They had stared at the buildings for a while before stepping into the land.
The pathway before the first building was cold, dark and quiet, too quiet. They moved slowly behind each other, no one made a sound even though dried leaves and twigs lined the ground. Until a sound was made. Tyra and Isadore turned back, each glaring at Rachel. She had stepped on dried leaves.
She was startled that she covered her mouth in fear.
"I'm sorry". She whispered.
They kept walking till they came across door . It was a large, huge wooden door. They all breathed a sigh of relief when it was pushed open.
"For a minute, I thought we had entered the spirit world". Rachel said, she had broken into a cold sweat earlier.
The room was filled with people chattering in different corners, they wore similar clothes. The room was ancient, made of wooden floors, very high ceilings with chandeliers. The room was brightly lit with big candles at each corner.
They registered their names and were taken to their rooms. Rachel and Tyra stayed in the same room while Isadore stayed in a room opposite theirs.
The next morning...
Tyra sat upright gasping for air holding her chest. She wiped the water off her face and shivered, the clothes she put on was already wet. She looked at the figure before her still catching her breath.
"Wake up young lady, you think this is the Palace or some fancy motel?".
A short woman in her mid- forties said standing in the middle of the room holding a galvanised steel bucket with the other hand on her waist. Her voice voice low and gravelly, somewhat unpleasant to the ears. She tied up her hair in a loose bun, her plain blue dress swept the floor, it hugged her skin revealing her round figure. She had a white apron hung around her neck.
Rachel was already awakened by the sudden noise in the room. With sleepy eyes, she yawned.
"Who are you". Her voice drowsy.
"I'm Madame Herma , the Chief Chef of Andoths".
Rachel scoffed, "A chef in the hostels?". Tyra laughed, mockery evident in her voice."You've got to be kidding".
Herma ignored their words. "Your breakfast has been lying on the table in the dining hall for sometime".
Before leaving, she held the door. "Your mates are already on the training ground and you both are just waking up". She shook her head slamming the door.
Rachel stood up immediately, straightening the bedsheets. "I have never seen anyone as grumpy as that lady".
"Hurry up Rachel, we wouldn't want to be late on the first day ". She said hurrying off to the wash-up area. "Looks like we already are". Rachel muttered.
Tyra looked at her reflection in the blurry mirror. Her lips curled upward in disappointment, she didn't like the way she was dressed.
It was a plain white dress that fell just above the ankles. Around the waist was a tight brown leather belt fastened with crisscrossing ropes that wound through brass eyelets like a corset. A sturdy, weather worn leather boots laced up to the mid calf completed the look.
Rachel stood behind her and sighed deeply. "Well, we brought this upon ourselves".
Isadore held her grumbling belly."I guess I'm the only one hungry here, I'm heading off to the dining hall". She had entered the room earlier.
There was no chicken, honey pie, ginger tea, freshly baked biscuits or white cream in the dining hall, only pieces of wheat bread and vegetables with silver cups on the table. Isadore laughed bitterly. "Is this breakfast?".
She walked towards the table, face full of disgust. "Even the servants in the Palace do not eat this garbage ".
After their unpleasant breakfast, they wandered around the building looking for the rest of their mates till they heard a familiar voice. They hesitated before turning.
"I guess the people here hold so many positions ". Rachel muttered.
" I wouldn't be surprised if she is also a teacher here". They all laughed faintly.
"The training hall is that way". She pointed towards an old building by the right. They all left without a word. She held her waist shaking her head, "Ungrateful kids".
The hall was crowded with people, referred to as disciples. The disciples stood quietly lined up in rows. A tall man stood in front, like he was giving instructions. His muscular physique stood out the most in his features. His naturally tightened jaw, hardened face that revealed no emotions, his hoarse voice reverberating through the room. His demeaning presence could not go unnoticed.
The trio had sneaked in, quietly lining up behind the other disciples. "What did I say about lateness". The instructor paused, looking behind the disciples.
Tyra stopped in her tracks, she knew he was referring to her. She was the last to sneak into the room. She bit her bottom lip closing her eyes.
"I looked around for..." When she noticed his cold stare, she bent her head low.
He called her to the front row, to stand before the disciples. He pointed a sword on the table.
"By coming in late, I believe you know how to wield a sword".
Tyra widened her eyes. She looked at the people staring at her, their gazes sharp enough to pierce her soul. She shook her head, hesitant to lift the sword. But the soldier look at her unblinking. The room was quiet and cold, she felt her heart racing. She had never stood before a large crowd to do something like this.
She reached for the sword with trembling hands, her fingers brushing through the cold steel. It was heavier than expected, it's blades sharp enough to cut through bones. She froze when she heard the soldier speak.
"Come at me".