Blood and Gold
Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2021 6:54 pm
Blood. Fawn’s ears rung. She followed the trail of crimson from the foyer to the staircase, all the way up each darkened plank of wood and down the hallway to her room with trembling steps.
Then, on the floor of her room laying on the carpet under the window, her mother was staring back at her. Wide eyed and torn to shreds like an animal had mauled her, mouth open. Whatever was left of her fathers body was crumpled in the corner, his favorite green shirt stained and blackened by a mess of his blood and the only thing keeping his organs in his body any longer was the utility belt wrapped tightly around his severed waist.
Her knees hit the ground with a thud.
Was she even here? Was this just an awful nightmare? Could she wake up if she pinched herself hard enough?
A scream erupted from her throat like a child in terror. Her voice rang out and echoed through the house in a mixture of horror and anguish as she crawled to her mother and screamed for her to wake, grasping at the flesh and holding her mangled body close to her chest. She’d never held anything so cold.
Hours later Fawn sat on the front porch of her home. Dazed. Throat hoarse. Her red hair, matted in some places with the blood of her parents, spilled over her shoulders. The local authorities had tried asking her questions, but she couldn’t remember if she’d even answered them. She heard them talk about more bodies. At least five other homes close to hers had been infiltrated, three of her neighbors murdered and mangled, and somehow without a trace of whoever had done it left behind. But one thing was clear- from the way the homes had been ransacked, and the way the bodies had been mutilated, whoever had come had done so in anger. And though they had been looking for something, it wasn’t obvious if they found what they had been looking for.
By noon the sun was high in the sky and warming her skin, nearly seeming to jest at her misfortune. Wasn’t it supposed to rain when people died? Weren’t there supposed to be storm clouds, or at least the night sky? Wasn’t it supposed to at least be cold? But no. Just a bright, warm sky, as if it had been any normal day.
Searing went by in a blur. An investigation team came by every few days to document their findings, and see what other clues they could find, but the only things they found were more questions.
The funeral had been held on the third day in the back of her house, her parents bodies burned and sent off by ritual boat into the lake. By the second week the home had been cleared of the bodies, but no amount of scrubbing she did could get the blood out of the wood flooring. Her fingers were raw, and her eyes were puffy from countless sleepless nights. The town had been in an uproar since the night of the murders, and word was beginning to spread even as far as Zaichaer and Kalzasi of the seemingly random, horrific scene that had unfolded in such a quiet town.
In the last week of Searing it seemed life had gone back to normal for most of the townsfolk. Most deemed it a freak incident. Security had been tightened and curfews and guards had been established, but the routine of their lives had returned. But to Fawn, it still felt like the first day.
. . . . .
84th of Searing, 121
Fawn stared at the pile of belongings in her home. Multiple crates of books, kitchenware, clothing, tools, trinkets- countless items she knew she’d had no use for but that she couldn’t bear to part with. Even after she’d sold the horses and livestock there hadn’t been enough left over to cover the property taxes and living expenses of upholding a farm, and there was no way she could take care of it all on her own. Her savings had been wiped out, and all she had left were the few coins she’d saved from her time in Kalzasi and a small bag of her own clothes.
”I don’t like having to do this… but we really need you to finish this today, Miss Brisbane.. After today there’s nothing more I can do for you...” The officer who’d been standing in the doorway tipped his head towards the girl, sympathy and shame written all over his face as he turned to leave. But what could he do- his hands were tied, and the property was being foreclosed.
She was as silent as she’d been all Searing as she placed a bag of her fathers belongings inside one of the crates atop his old clothes. They still smelled of him. Oak, sweat, mulled spices, and linen. One by one she began moving the crates of her family's items outside and into a large wagon. Nearly all of her and her family's possessions were being seized as collateral for the property and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
Tears welled up in her eyes as the last crate got placed inside the wagon. A short man, though muscular in the same way a bulldog is muscular, plopped himself down from the driver's seat of the wagon and took his hat off.
”I’m sorry fer yer loss Miss Brisbane…” He said, a thick country accent rolling off his tongue.
Her chest was tight.
Everyone was sorry. But no one did a damn thing. Did no one hear her parents screaming when they were murdered? Did no one care that a young woman was essentially homeless, orphaned, and without money?
The man's brow contorted. His heart ached.
”Ye ken Fawn, I was good pals with yer mother… when you was just a babe, she gave me a few things of yers and said to keep ‘em in ur safe. Since they weren’t in the house I thought you can ‘ave em…”
It was then Fawn raised her eyes from the ground and noticed the small linen satchel he held in his hands. Fawn took it from him with a gentle grasp. No larger than a waterskin, the paper and twine wrapped satchel was light in her hands. A fabric of some kind?
He sighed, shaking his head. ”Yer family was gone too soon. I hope what she left ye is some comfort in these times to ye…” Fawn didn’t look at him as he left. She didn’t like meeting with their eyes, not anymore. They always pitied her, and it only made the memories that much more painful.
Moments later the wagon pulled away. Down the road and towards the town's bank, the only sounds left in it’s wake were that of birds chirping and the wind rustling the tree branches around the building she used to call home.
She looked down at the satchel and began to undo the dust covered twine that held the bundle together. As the paper unfolded she raised one brow. A blanket? The white and gold patterned silk slid across her fingers like water. She barely remembered- was this hers? A faint memory tugged at the back of her mind.
Fawn twisted the blanket in her hands trying to understand the pattern on it’s surface, then with a swift motion unfurled it completely. Gold thread shimmered in the sunlight from behind her spelling out strange runic symbols along it’s hem.
Her head tilted. Runes?
With a soft sigh she bundled the blanket together, sniffing it. It didn’t smell like them… but it had been left to her. Fawn held it tightly in her arms as she began, with one heavy step in front of the other, the long journey back to Kalzasi.