The Rising Dawn

By Ellicia Dawn

"The years have been unkind," he wrote, "inflicting scars physical, mental, and emotional. What would one expect after being deemed less than human, and treated as such? As the rich treat peasants the same as the ground upon which they tread, so have the societal element considered to be of import treated me and mine.

"I know they will call me their ultimate enemy. After all, many of my followers view them the same way. I will not begin with the start of the war, as that had begun as time came into existence. Differences were always considered to be a fitful reason to take the life of another, just as jealousy and greed were enough to supplement the base reason. Instead I will begin with the event that caused life to shift. Though it will be filled with confusion, it will make sense as I continue. This is what is demanded of me before I go to face my fate: death or life."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ellicia Dawn
• Release date: Jul 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370424573

Ellicia Dawn

I grew up in a small desert town in Utah where very little has ever happened. My family lived near an area that had a patch of grassland, some swamp-like space, trees, and a stream; perfect for cultivating my imagination. I started writing in high school, starting with poetry and essays, even winning first place in an essay contest with an essay that wasn't on subject. In college I majored in music and took multiple creative writing courses. Just recently I had a short story published in Chicken Soup for the Soul: World's Greatest Mother.

Book preview

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Erick sat at his desk, his head leaned over a small journal on the gouged, aged, wood. The walls were blank, studs exposed in front of wood slats hastily placed for a temporary shelter. Everyone was preparing for war, a war that would decide the fate of all who were established to be traitors and criminals for practicing magic, a war that had been in the making for centuries.

His long blonde hair cascaded down his bare back, stopping just below his shoulder blades. The hint of a black tattoo showed through, the rest being obscured by the barely stable chair on which he sat. His eyes, nearly black they were such a deep brown, focused on the sheets of parchment lying before him. The paper had been ensorcelled so they could withstand all time and weather, or at least the years it would take to change humanity. It wouldn’t do for the writing to wash away, not when so many needed to heed its message.

He questioned whether or not humanity would ever change. So many thought only of themselves, of their own needs, few ever thought to help their fellow beings, a fact that was often taken as being human.

The years have been unkind, he wrote, "inflicting scars physical, mental, and emotional. What would one expect after being deemed less than human, and treated as such? As the rich treat peasants the same as the ground upon which they tread, so have the societal element considered to be of import treated me and mine.

"I know they will call me their ultimate enemy. After all, many of my followers view them the same way. I will not begin with the start of the war, as that had begun as time came into existence. Differences were always considered to be a fitful reason to take the life of another, just as jealousy and greed were enough to supplement the base reason. Instead I will begin with the event that caused life to shift. Though it will be filled with confusion, it will make sense as I continue. This is what is demanded of me before I go to face my fate: death or life.

"There was a time when magic users were dominant, common enough to run all of Havar. Those who suppressed their magic, who trusted more in herbal treatments, surgical procedures, anything involving a more hands-to-skin approach, were considered the outcasts. They were given little for learning how to hone their crafts. Why do by hand what can be done in a shorter time with magic? Where healing was concerned, magic was more reliable. Fewer lives were lost, and aftereffects were non-existent.

"Over the years the anti-magic faction grew in power as those with magic became more sympathetic toward the opposition, teaching any resisting magic basic skills to hone in their own way. Those who were anti-magic took advantage of the presented sympathy, continually asking for more. Viewing the presented sympathy as a weakness, they played on the guilt of magic users, demanding they pay for what had been done in the past, blaming everything on the descendents rather than the ancestors no matter how long the guilty had been counted among the dead rather than the living. It was through this that the anti-magic faction took control. Those with magic began to believe they were responsible for the sins of their fathers, no matter that they were attempting to create a bridge across the division. Fresh heartache was never a priority unless it was their own, so obsessed with vengeance they had become.

"The process was slow, but in time magic was named a myth. Apothecaries grew in popularity, combining herbs for healing, giving energy, and uses around the home and in war, a fitful disguise for those growing ashamed of their magic. Humans with steel knives and concoctions were depended upon for the more severe illnesses, losing many lives in the process as they learned the internal workings of their own kind. Metal smiths put themselves in danger to create weapons and tools for farming, items to be used for livestock, jewelry to impress those less fortunate. Stone masons aided in building the richer homes while carpenters were left to build the homes for those of lower status. There were injuries and deaths as the drive to mine ore and jewels replaced any desire for safety and survival. The only true progression was in money. Gold, silver, copper, and bronze became the mode of payment where before it was spells and potions, metals being components for elixirs and precious stones for spells. All this former knowledge in magic had been lost.

"With the lack of a belief in magic, people denied a part of themselves that was constantly straining against the mental binds they constructed to fit within society's mold and ensure one’s safety. Sometimes these bonds were broken, never to be reconstructed. As magic fell into obscurity, this happened less and less, or so everyone believed. It was the same as opening a floodgate--once opened it could never be closed as long as the water was flowing at full force. Any with the reemergence of magical talents were cast out, branded with a downward crescent beneath a diamond, symbolizing the conquering of physical knowledge over the mystical. The first had been a woman, Thenia. Having been born with that gate open, she had never restrained her magic, enabling her talents to increase as she aged. It was the one reason she was able to survive outside the walls of Havar.

"Others were soon cast out of Havar. Men, women, and children from all cities and villages were brought to the walls to be thrown from the haven of the anti-magic society. Whether they lived or died was never a concern. They were forgotten in the moment the gates were closed. None sobbed openly, not wanting to be seen as sympathizers. To sympathize with those being cast out was to be disposed of along with them from the world they knew. Those cast out were eventually known as the Rejected, a new fear for the inhabitants of Havar.

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Chapter 1

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My father was a knight in the King's army, the greatest ever born. At age 27 he married Clara, a teen girl more than ten years his younger. As women were considered to be weaker in all aspects--thus worth less for monetary gain--most information on their backgrounds was never recorded. My mother's name was always written as Madam Clara, Wife of Sir James Viere. Only a first name connected with that of her husband's name and title. It was my father that the king greatly respected, being a man that had guarded his life with more dedication than any other. In having the deeds of his favored knight recorded, he also had my mother’s name submitted to the records as an extension of James.

Against societal expectations my mother and father grew to love each other. Love was considered a waste of energy and the mind, a distraction that disgraced all it infected. Marriages were arranged according to the beneficial gain of both sides. The gain for Clara's family was to be associated with the King's favorite knight. James, having little family with only his father, accepted the arrangement with his gain being the chance to have an heir to carry on his legacy and tend to the estate in his absence. In time they learned more of each other. They knew each other's secrets. Their one mutual secret being that they would have been among the Rejected if discovered at the wrong time.

Clara had lost all binds on her magic a month before her marriage to James. Being little more than a child, the stress and fear of what would be expected of her caused the barrier to break. The women who had sewn so much of her wedding dress could hardly understand how a frail girl could so thoroughly destroy so many yards of fabric meant for her gown. She alone knew what had happened, though not why. Out of the fear of her future life if she was discovered, she kept it secret and attempted to keep her new found ability under tight control, holding it beneath the surface of her thoughts and all feeling. There were the occasional mishaps, though they were easily explained away.

James had started noticing strange occurrences about him when he was 12, shortly after his parents decided he would be submitted to battle training. Objects would move on their own, traveling closer to him or materializing beside him when he wanted it most, even bringing him a dagger or arrow when he was without any weapons, his magic acting on his instinct for survival. At first he attempted to suppress it, again fearing he would be discovered. If his parents saw, he knew he would be counted among the Rejected. Eventually he began learning to use his magic in secret. Better that than to have a plate at dinner slide across the table in response to his upset.

Being that their abilities fought being suppressed, their attempts to control them failed. It wasn't long before they learned magic could be ignored for only so long before choosing to steal back your attention, much like a small child.

Clara, always one to hide her true strength, used her magic only when she could guarantee no one would discover the truth, most often when she and James were together. Even then it was for small tasks that would hardly use any strength. James was the one person she knew would never report her, who would also warn her of anyone's approach. They were as shields for each other, stopping possible strikes from the outside.

On the other hand, James learned to combine his battle skills with his magic. It was subtle, yet highly effective. None could match his sword's speed and power, just as none had recognized the unnatural evolution of his battle prowess.

Clara suffered multiple miscarriages throughout their marriage; each one giving rise to comments that she failed in her duty as a wife and woman. Only a failed wife could lose so many unborn children. Others claimed she had caused them herself, refusing to give her husband an heir that he so rightly deserved as much as any man, maybe even more. Hearing the whispered comments wore down any confidence she might have had, erecting in its stead an obsession that she feared could never be satisfied.

Physicians, surgeons, herbalists, and apothecaries were called on to cure her inability to carry a child to term. She was bled, forced to drink various mixtures of herbs, and bruised from the alleged examinations that were more torturous than a form of aid. Creams were rubbed onto her abdomen, often burning her skin and causing such redness that she'd be in pain for days afterward.

Nothing worked, and Clara lost a piece of her sanity with each failed attempt. All she could think of was to provide an heir, live her purpose as a woman. Prove she was not the failure everyone claimed her to be, even when she doubted herself able to do more than cry and scream.

With all other options exhausted, James turned to what were considered myths, in the process discovering the presence of an underground community within the borders of Havar that had avoided detection. They were contacts within the confines of the wall, reporting to the rejected when another would be cast out. In secret they provided healing when the accepted methods proved to be ineffective and the subject had progressed beyond desperation. Upon reaching one of the Contacts, James was put in contact with Veinin, a priestess of the underground. Never being allowed to see her in person, he was only permitted to send a letter which she responded to promptly, her only request being that she meet Clara in private, excluding even him; a meeting that would change the future the three of them had believed was waiting.

Chapter 2

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Being brought in through the back entrance, Veinin used her magic to cover her tracks and protect the lives of this criminal knight and his failing wife, terms she'd grown to abhor since she was a child. Rumors had already been spreading that they were mentally unsound, that they were trying to lead people from nature's truth. Despite the accusations against her, James’ determination to help Clara clear what everyone saw as her shame was also looked down upon. Men believed she wasn’t meant to bear him children and she should be left to her fate. It was easy for them to abandon their wives for the warmth of another’s body. He refused to betray Clara in such a way.

She always found it ironic that they dared call their facet of truth nature's. Nature denied nothing, where they denied half of their own being for not fitting into the box they created through their senses. If they could not see, taste, touch, hear, and smell the thing in question it had no place in their truth. Such narrow-mindedness was the tool of power hungry and greedy beings, the very people who would rather shame those of the unknown rather than build an understanding. Their truth was the darker side of humanity, using each other for personal gain rather than working toward a common goal.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Veinin followed through the halls, a young woman servant being her guide. She recognized the girl, one of the newer members of the Contacts, and most likely the one that had guided James to her as she cared greatly for her employers. As there was no way to be certain of their safety, she gave no indication of her recognition. One never knew what eyes might be watching, or if the Vieres were as trustworthy as she hoped.

There were few tapestries, the ones on display being gifts telling pictorial stories of battles James had aided in winning, battles most important to his majesty, King Rande. Most expected James to be promoted, but he always refused. A promotion would only bring more attention that he did not desire.

The walls were paneled wood, deep red with borders of silvery white, the gray was so pale. Everything showed hardly any imagination, another tactic to attempt obscurity. A home not many would remember as there was little to admire, a home more typical to what would be expected of a low ranking knight.

Arriving at a small sitting room with simple furnishings, Veinin saw Lady Clara, her dark eyes hiding knowledge and fear. Her face was innocent, heart shaped with gentle curves around her eyes and cheeks. Her long blonde hair was twisted into a braid which was draped over her right shoulder, a common practice for Havarian women. Men were required to keep their hair short after marriage, signifying he no longer needed to impress women. He could focus on his duties as a man. For a woman, loose hair meant she was free to marry. Hair pulled into a knot meant she was too young. A braid announced to all she was bound to her husband, the braid having a strong resemblance to a rope.

Veinin wore her hair in a braid, despite not being married. It kept men ignorant of her, knowing that most men saw their wives as possessions that no other man was to touch. Some gave chase anyway, seeing no reason to ignore their natural desires, a common problem for women attempting to avoid persecution of any form. As nature was considered an example of how men were meant to live, they paid not concern for how the women they chased might be viewed after their assault or dalliance. She was certain Clara suffered the same. What woman was free of a man's attentions when she did not want to be subject to them? It was unavoidable when society took the stance that women were objects to be owned and men the ones meant to rule.

Clara motioned toward a plain wooden chair. Forgive me, she began, with one servant and a cook, we have had to forgo the expected luxuries and use our money for deserved wages and necessities. She took her own chair once Veinin was seated. She was certain some of that statement was true. She could sense magic in Clara, seeing that as the greater reason for the lack in decorations and finer furnishings.

Despite what might have been assumed by some, a knight such as James was paid little more than a living wage. The rest of his payment was in weapon repairs, food, and clothing. Their house was paid for from their own coffers, as were the servants.

I have had meetings in barns with bales of hay for seating, Veinin answered. I can say a chair with a hard flat surface is preferable to stalks of hay searching out skin to pierce and scratch. She smiled as Clara's bell-like laugh sounded in the room.

The pleasant moment could not last long. Clara's laughter faded, her expression grew dark and troubled. I am sure you know what they call me: a failed wife.

Veinin could only nod her confirmation, not wanting to speak and send this desperate woman into tears.

I have one request: that you use your magic to cure my barrenness so that I might give James the heir I know he so desires. Clara's eyes begged while her voice was even, serene. Anyone listening might have taken her tone as that of one making a simple request for a piece of fruit. Veinin could see this request was for more than her husband. It was for herself, for her to feel worth something again. The ridicule she faced had broken her down to this.

There was nothing simple about her request. It would require a full ritual involving an engraved spell, four of the magic users on the outside, and Clara and James on the inside. So much magic to correct the damage done by previous attempts as well as what nature itself had seen fit to cause. Such a high risk to take with no guarantee that magic would be able to help, let alone that her body would be able to handle the strain if it did take effect.

Not knowing what she was going to say, Veinin answered, You will not live past the fifth year of your child's life. She looked startled at her own words. Why had she said such a thing?

Before Veinin could apologize, Clara spoke, "I only care that there will be a child. Please, lady Veinin. This is all I wish to