Open Wounds, A Novella of Beginnings

By M. K. Dreysen

A time of beginnings...

Names of power, legends of glory. Stories don't always start at the point where the heroes enter and vanquish the monster.

In this case, two friends will end up facing each other as prisoner and jailer, queen and ultimate subject. Their decisions in that place and time will shatter a distant corner of the world, leaving the fate of many to random chance and the viciousness of winter.

But first, long before they face off as bitter enemies, two children, on that verge between leaving childhood behind for the pathways of adulthood, must answer the most delightful question imaginable.

What's in the box?

• Language: English
• Publisher: M. K. Dreysen
• Release date: Jun 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370971435

Book preview

Open Wounds, A Novella of Beginnings

Open Wounds Series, Book 1

By M. K. Dreysen

Copyright © 2017 M. K. Dreysen

Aimward Drift Publications. Visit aimwarddrift.blogspot.com for news, updates, and upcoming stories.

Dedication

To all my family, friends, the first one's always for you.

But most especially for my wife and daughter, with all my love.

It used to be the case that, in the hottest night of summer, if you walked out from the city, and waited for the southwest wind, the one that blows over the desert and carries a buzzard stench, then you could hear this story blow in on the wind. Gone, though, are the days when the wind carried stories that us poor fools could hear, and only the birds know now what tales may come that way. For now, you're stuck with me.

I don't know quite how or when Megan learned just what she had saddled herself with the day she met the Runt. Some say that she knew that he was trouble from the first, while others say it wasn't 'til after she became Queen that she gave any thought to it, but all I can say for sure is that they met when they were children, they grew to love one another as only truest friends can, and their hatred for each other as adults is what drove our little country to destruction.

This is the way of it, then…

Chapter 1: Meetings

Megan was perhaps the dirtiest little girl that anyone had ever seen, at least that week. It was the sort of dirty that her nan would have screamed and cried over, and ordered her to her bath and bed, and no you can't have any supper young lady, don't even think of asking for a treat. Fortunately for Megan, her nan was at least half a town away, and she wouldn't have to be dealt with for at least another few hours.

Of course, the pigs she was slopping were absolutely convinced that, if they could keep Meg busy long enough, then she would become more than just a visitor. The responsibilities that Meg had assumed for herself were only supposed to extend to carrying the bucket for the butcher's boy while he actually did the dirty work in the sty.

However, Bill the butcher's boy had decided that carrying a spear and pretending to uphold the honor and dignity of Langdon on the field of battle was worth more to his tender ego than slopping the pigs for a penny a day. Meg would have to disabuse him of such high and mighty notions, if she managed to get out of the stupid pen, that is.

Meg, girl, get your skinny ass out of the mud and feed them hogs, will ya? Burt, the butcher, was having a hard time keeping a straight face. It was work. Maybe if you have some dignity left, you can help me clean out the cow stalls?

Hell, no, she said. I'm in enough trouble already. I'll have to jump in the water before I head for home, I have to get back into the castle without smelling like pig shit.

Ah, Meg, you're breaking my heart. It's not like I can find someone in this gods-forsaken town who actually wants to work this week, everyone and their brother is signed up for the trenches. If you're not working tonight I won't be able to fill my orders for the week. Burt had quit smiling.

Meg handed the slop bucket over the fence, and climbed after it. Honest, Burt, anything else is gonna have to wait. What about that little kid next door?

That runt couldn't carry that bucket empty. If I put him in the pen with the boar hog he'd be dinner. He spends too much time inside with his books to be of any use when you get him outside long enough to cast a shadow. Trust me kid, I'm better off waiting for the help you can give me than asking him for anything. Burt thought some, and then leaned in to ask another question. You haven't heard anything up to the castle, have you?

Meg knew what he meant. No, Burt, no one's said anything around me. None of them trust me with useful information. If I could, I'd ask where she is, but the staff won't say anything when any of the servants are in the room. It's maddening.

Burt laughed at that one. No, twit, it's the best thing they can do. You might think that all state secrets are yours by right of living in the place, but there are a lot of men and women whose blood will thank you to keep your head empty of the 'important stuff'. You know as well as I do that anything that crowd of hens overheard would be scattered to the winds before night, and you're no better. Now off with you before I decide that my boar can use a snack.

If he runs like you do, there's not much for me to worry about, Meg yelled. Of course, she took off running as soon as she said it, so all she caught from Burt was the crumpled up towel he tossed at her as she took off. I'll see you tomorrow, if I'm not under the tower when nan gets through with me. Still laughing, she started jogging along Harbor Road. She was thinking about what she was going to do to scrub the mess off. Most of the time, the dirt she picked up on these excursions wasn't something she really worried about. Hell, her nan was just happy that she'd managed to find something to do in town that involved her with people who worked for a living. This particular stench was a bit much, though.

Fortunately, a harbor town has a few options for getting rid of that kind of thing. While jumping over the seawall might seem like a good idea to the uninitiated, getting back up the silly thing was more work than it was worth. However, the Road continued past the seawall, on around the lighthouse point and back toward the oceanside gates of the castle. The tiny beach in front of the lighthouse was what she aimed for. It was a gravel beach with nothing much to recommend it except hermit crabs. However, the bedrock that the little beach was carved out of held tidal pools, and those were perfect for what she needed.

Another benefit of taking the Road out this way was that the foot traffic was quite a bit less than from the castle's landside gates. Meg really wanted to avoid the comments she'd hear if someone she knew got downwind.

When she got to the big bluff at the base of the lighthouse, she had to search a bit for the path down to Lighthouse Beach. The sea grass on the top of the bluff was thick, and the path she needed wasn't much bigger than a goat path. Getting down was something of an adventure, accomplished mostly by some sliding, a little rolling, and more cussing. The bruises she picked up in the process didn't help much. When she finally did get to the bottom, Meg laid back, regardless of the pebbles that she was lying on, and spent a few minutes just enjoying the late summer sun. Combined with the sea breeze and she almost fell asleep. What woke her up was a brief whiff of smoke.

Meg picked herself up and looked around for the fire that she thought she'd smelled. The breeze was blowing in from the south end of the beach, and she couldn't see anything obvious from that end. She started walking that way, staying close to the bluff. It curled around ahead of her and down to the water. The tidal pools she was interested in were holes that the waves had carved out of the bluff face all the way around to either tip of the moon curve of the beach. Most of them weren't deep or wide enough to do much but give the seabirds an easy dinner. However, just back from the high water line, there was a depression in the rock wall with a waist deep pool with a small overhang from above. This was the spot that she'd been thinking of for herself, but unfortunately, if her nose was any guide, she wasn't the only one who knew about the ideal little spot.

Now that she'd gotten closer to the source, Meg recognized the smoke coming from a tobacco pipe. As she got closer, she also realized that whoever was smoking the pipe was laid back on top of the little shelf above her pool, dangling a foot over the edge and enjoying the sun, just as she'd intended to. She didn't quite know what to do. She was still quite young, and the embarrassment of being covered in pig slop was too much for her if she couldn't work out a way to get clean soon. She didn't want to try and jump in the open water, not with someone else on the beach.

She'd almost decided it was time to chance the castle. But, whoever it was in her spot sat up with a stretch and yawn. It was Chad, Burt's young neighbor they'd been talking about earlier. And worse, he'd seen her.

Shit, she said.

Crap, he said.

What are you doing up there? Aren't you supposed to be nose down in a book somewhere? Meg didn't know the boy that well, and embarrassment has never made for a reliable conduct guide.

What's that supposed to mean? Aren't you supposed to be knee deep in Burt's pig shit? Clearly, boys aren't any better when they've been caught out.

Thank you for being so observant. If you're still feeling so helpful, maybe you can move out of there and let me have a turn in the pool to get this stench off? And what are you doing stealing your Aunt's tobacco, anyhow? Meg was trying, really, to be good, but the jabs weren't very easy to hold in.

Chad looked down at his feet. Well, I'm trying smoking for the first time, I've never done it before. I think it's supposed to make you look older or something, and I figured I need all the help I can get. Plus, I'm celebrating! At this, he gave a shy little smile.

Let me guess, Eric has found a new geography, and you've managed to spend a few hours figuring out that we're still 2 days travel south of the capital? At this point Meg was