Shards - An Excerpt

Shards is my NaNoWriMo 2007 novel. It’s fantasy (magical realism), and although my main characters are young, this is not a Young Adult novel (not that there are any adult themes - there aren’t - it’s just not geared towards YA specifically.)

This is the first draft, written for NaNoWriMo, so it’s rough. I have done no editing whatsoever, so there are going to be spelling, punctuation, and grammar errors, as well as problems with consistency and logic. That’s the nature of first drafts.

Still, if you’re interested in reading it, here it is. I hope you enjoy it.

—–

Zuhara rolled over to her left side and strained to hear the heated conversation.  The voices came from the kitchen, growing in volume.  She was supposed to be asleep, but had woken up from the pain of her broken rib. 

"What?  You want her to get married now?  She’s only eleven!  She hasn’t even had her first menses yet."

"She’s too much trouble.  She’s always talking back.  She has no respect for me.  It’s high time someone got her under control."

"She’s just a spirited young girl.  She’ll temper in time.  I did."

Her father snorted.  "You tempered when I tempered you.  Do you not remember?"  He slammed the cupboard door.  "She’s out of control and listens to no one.  If we don’t get her married now, we’ll never get her married."

"She can choose her own mate when she’s older.  That’s done in other parts.  We don’t have to stick with the old ways here."

"No.  We marry her now.  While there’s still a chance.  Before she gets any wilder.  Before anyone learns how impossible she’s become.  Besides, I’ve got a buyer already."

Zuhara’s mother gasped.  "So is that what this is really about?  How much, Johan?"

"Six thousand.  But the amount doesn’t matter.  Franz Wills has already agreed to it.  The contract is done.  He’s a good man, and he’ll train her right quick."

Franz Wills?  But he’s an old man, with grey hair, thought Zuhara.  And he’s already buried three wives.  She struggled to get out of bed, and gasped as she put weight on her sprained wrist.  She carefully, quietly padded over to the door.

"Six thousand?  But that’s "  She could feel the wheels in her mother’s brain go round and round.  "Final?  But, Johan, you do not have the power to make deals with Franz.  This is women’s business.  To be negotiated by me."

"What does it matter?  It’s done.  Dealt with.  He’ll be by to pay the dowry and pick her up in a few days."

Zuhara felt her mother’s anger.  "No, Johan.  Mothers make arrangements for their daughters, fathers for their sons.  That’s the law.  You cannot finalize this transaction.  Only I can."

Johan laughed.  "Woman, that law doesn’t reach these parts and you know it."

"I know that I can register a complaint with the local magistrate.  I know that your contract will be declared null and void.  And I also know that Franz will come after you for the money, and he’s stronger than even you are."

Johan snorted.  "Woman, don’t be a nuisance.  You will do no such thing.  If you do, I’ll turn you out.  I’ll make our marriage null and void, and you’ll have nowhere to go and nothing to take with you.  All this is mine, you stupid cow."

Zuhara’s mother gasped.  "Johan, you and I had a deal.  When we married, you said you’d give me fifty percent of your yearly earnings in return for me staying at home, raising the children, and tending to everything here.  That was our contract.  You can’t break it."

Johan laughed again.  "Then where’s that money?  Did you squander it?"

Zuhara’s mother spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.  "You said you’d keep it for me, safe.  You haven’t given me my wages in years, Johan, and you know it."

"Ah, but can you prove it?  According to the contract, I give you wages every month.  You haven’t complained until now, so as far as anyone knows, we’ve both kept our side of the contract.  Who’s going to believe you?"

Zuhara knew her mother had been beaten.  Not because her father was right   by law, there should have been receipts, ledgers, a paper trail.  An auditing was supposed to be done at the end of each year.  Her father bothered with none of that, thinking it was beneath him, but Zuhara knew that it wasn’t the law he was following.

She shook, partly from the cold, but partly from the fear of what the future would bring.  She didn’t want to be married to Franz, and especially not if her father negotiated the contract for her.  Franz was even worse than her father was.  She’d be a prisoner for the rest of her life.  Her mother was useless against her father, beaten into submission through years of intimidation and yelling.  No, her only way out was for her to escape, and now.

She felt her ribs.  They still hurt.  The Journeywoman Healer wouldn’t be here for days, and by then it would be too late.  Her mother had done her best to heal her ribs, but her mother’s skills were not strong.  Zuhara thought of the past.  Didn’t mother used to be a lot better at healing than she is now?  Have her skills degraded over time?  I thought it wasn’t supposed to work that way.  Zuhara was confused.  She returned to her bed and sat down.  She closed her eyes as she felt her ribs and started focusing on them with her energy, but then she heard footsteps on the stairs.  They can’t know I’ve heard anything!  She hurried under the thick goose down duvet, holding her breath so her ribs wouldn’t hurt as much, and lay back down.  She closed her eyes and stilled her breathing, forcing it to be long and shallow and even.  She forced herself to relax as she waited.

She heard the footsteps stop at her door, and she heard the door creak open slowly.  She breathed as normally as she could, slowly, feigning sleep.  Finally, she heard the door creak slowly closed again, then the footsteps wandered down the hall to her mother’s bedroom.  She waited, wondering what her father would do next.  Would he go to his own room, or would he sleep with her mother tonight?  She was torn.  On the one hand, she wanted her father to leave her mother alone tonight, but on the other hand, if he went to his own room, it would make it that much more difficult for her to escape tonight.

Escape.  Was that what she was planning?  She thought about her choices for a few minutes   life with old Franz on the one hand, or running away on the other hand.  She’d always wanted to go to school, but her father had vetoed that pretty early on, dismissing it as a waste of time and "irrelevant for our times".  He’d also said an education was a waste for a girl, but Zuhara had never understood that.  With a proper education, Zuhara knew that she’d have better focus and more skills.  If she were trained, she would be more efficient.  She could help her mother grow better crops in the very short growing season.  She could heal herself and others more quickly.  Oh, there was so much she didn’t know and wanted to learn!  Why couldn’t she just go to school like she’d always wanted?   But I can, she thought.  And that would solve the problem of where to run to.  No good running away if there’s no destination.  She thought for a few more minutes, weighing the pros and cons, making plans, seeing if she thought she could make it work.  I think I can, she thought.  It’ll be a hard journey, but it can’t be any harder than dying in childbirth like the rest of Franz’s wives.  She continued to listen for her father’s footsteps, straining, hoping that he would sleep with her mother tonight.  Sorry, mother.  I know it’s not easy for you, either.  But you chose this.  Or, at least, if you didn’t choose this, you could have ended it a long time ago.  You chose to continue.  I didn’t.  I was born in.  But now I’m making my choice, and that choice is freedom and education.    She thought she’d try healing her own ribs.  She hadn’t done it before, but the Journeywoman Healer had told her what the process was   this wasn’t the first time Zuhara’s father had broken her ribs   so she thought, why not?  If she failed, no harm done, but if she succeeded, then it would make her journey a lot easier. 

She put her hands on her chest, covering the broken ribs, and pressed down to align the broken ends with each other.  She took a deep, long breath to calm herself and to increase her focus.  She felt around her for the healing yellow energy, and found faint whisps of it.  She drew it to herself, to her ribs, directing the yellow energy to her broken ribs.  She urged it to warm her, to heal her. 

Her head began to throb.  She saw white stars, and then she felt faint and dizzy.  At least I’m already lying down, she thought.  She’d been warned that using these abilities took a lot of energy, and since her father had sent her to bed after her beating without either lunch or dinner, she didn’t have much.  I’ll just have to do the best I can.

Footsteps on the stairway wandered towards her mother’s room, much earlier than Zuhara had expected.  She hoped her father wouldn’t continue the fight with her mother, but he usually didn’t, so she wasn’t worried.  She looked at her timepiece.  Seven more hours until her father was up again.  She’d have to make the most of it.

She decided to try healing her ribs again.  She took a calming deep breath, then another, and another, and entered a light trance as she’d been taught at the village school.  She cleared her mind of distractions.  She then pressed her hands to her ribs again, focused again, and sought again for the yellow healing energy.  The yellow dots of energy swirled around her.  She focused on them, and led them again to her ribs and willed them to fuse the rib ends together.  Again, she got dizzy and this time, nearly fainted.  She lay there for a few minutes, thinking.  I should wrap my ribs tighter, give them more support. 

She sat up in bed, throwing her duvet off her, and felt the cold air on her skin.  Goosebumps formed on her skin and she shivered.  She lifted up her woolen nightdress carefully, then undid the wrappings her mother had done hours before.  They were too loose   her mother must have been distracted, and now she knew why.  She rewrapped the bandages tighter, as tight as she could get them, and then pinned them in place with numb fingers.  She never could understand why her father didn’t install central heating in the house, other than he was too cheap.  Zuhara began to wonder how much money her father really had   she knew he didn’t spend one cent more on the household than he had to, and now that she knew that he hadn’t been paying her mother wages, Zuhara wondered how much her father had squirreled away.  She was beginning to question a lot of things. 

She spread her nightdress back down her legs, lay back down, and covered herself with the duvet again, and started over again.  She drew the healing energy to herself, and again, nearly passed out.  She lay still for a few minutes, relaxing, calming herself. 

She woke up a short while later and looked at her timepiece.  "No!"  She’d been asleep for an hour.  She had to hurry.  She threw her duvet off herself and stood up.  She opened her wardrobe and got dressed in her warmest shalwaar kameez.  She pulled a pair of warm wool socks on to her feet.  She took her rucksack out of the wardrobe and packed in her clothes.  She didn’t have much, so this only took a few minutes, and if she was going to disappear to school in the north, she was going to have need of more than just winter clothing.  She looked around the dark room, remembering more than seeing where everything was.  She had no choice but to leave her childhood things behind her.  She could only take the most important things for her survival if she was going to make it alive past The Neck. 

She looked around the room, and realized she couldn’t leave her bed like that, duvet exposing the fact that she wasn’t in her bed.  She looked around, and spied her stuffed seal doll.  She put it on her bed, its head on her pillow, and pulled the duvet around it, fluffing it to look like it was covering her small shape.  Satisfied that it would pass a cursory examination, she turned back to her task at hand.

She grabbed her rucksack and carefully opened her door.  It squeaked, but she hoped her parents were asleep and wouldn’t hear it.  She closed it behind her and trod gingerly down the stairs.  She put her rucksack by the back door, then checked in the pantry for what food she could take with her.  Luckily, her mother had baked the week’s bread just yesterday, so she grabbed a couple loaves and a half dozen apples.  As she thought about it, she realized she needed more than that, and also took a sack of beans, a sack of chickpeas, and some onions, potatoes, and carrots.

She put them in a bag, grabbed a water skin, which she knew would freeze fairly quickly outside, but she was thirsty and needed the liquid regardless.  She looked around at the worn concrete floor, the cracked tiles around the kitchen sink, the old used furniture.  She’d always thought they’d been poor.  Maybe they weren’t after all.  Or, more accurately, maybe they still were, but their father wasn’t.  Was he really so selfish that he’d allow them to go without for his own greedy purposes? 

She looked at her timepiece and knew she had to be off.  She put on another layer of woolen socks, and, instead of putting on her own boots, took her older brother’s.  Hers were nearly too small anyway, and she couldn’t afford to lose circulation.  She also took her brother’s long woolen coat.  It was in better shape than her own, and it was lined in fur.  He got the warmer coat since he worked with their father and consequently spent a lot of time on the dogsled.  But today, now, her need was greater than his.  She also took his warmer, more practical hat and gloves, also fur lined.  For once, she wouldn’t freeze when outside in the cold cold weather.

She opened the door and walked outside, taking her rucksack and bag of food with her, then shut the door carefully behind her.  She went to the smoke house first and took a few smoked sausages and hams and a joint of elk, putting them in her bag.  She’d need the protein.

She then turned to the dog’s shed.  She hoped they would obey her.  She hadn’t taken the dogs out by herself before.  This could be interesting.  But she figured that, if she wanted them to obey her, she had to be confident, so she decided she’d just have to fake it for now.

She opened the oversized door, and, prepared for barking, waited.  Nothing.  Could it be her brother’s clothing helps?  They’re used to her brother   he takes them out by himself all the time.  Huh.  Trying to remember in which order her father harnessed the dogs to the sled, she first reached for Barney, and hooked him up on the right side closest to the sled.  Barney gave her no trouble at all and obeyed her every order.  She then hooked up Squibbles, Fife, TomTom, Henrietta, and Oliver, who started to bark, but shut up as soon as she ordered him to.  They were well-trained dogs, used to keeping quiet when ordered   it made hunting for elk, deer, or moose so much easier for her father and brothers. 

She loaded up her childhood toboggan on the sled, figuring she might need it later to tow her things after she left the dogs behind somewhere.  Meadow Lake, maybe?  On top of the toboggan, she loaded her father’s trail pack   it was always ready to go, its supplies replenished every night immediately after her father returned from wherever he went.  It was a habit he’d established long ago, along with taking care of the dogs.  He treats the dogs better than he treats his kids, she mused.  She knew he’d be angry when he discovered the dogs, the sled, and his trail pack gone, but with any luck, she’d never see him again, and she couldn’t afford the time to put her own trail pack together.  Besides, he got the best equipment while the kids always got barely useable equipment.  Nope, she was going prepared, not with stuff that would fail in the middle of a snowstorm.

In front of her father’s trail pack, she loaded her own rucksack and the food bag, and added a bag of meat for the dogs. Just as she was about to leave, she remembered her snowshoes, grabbed them, and lashed them down.  She put her gloves back on, mushed the dogs out of the shed, shut the doors, and saw snow falling, gently, quietly.  Big Doona was out, full, and Little Moon was a quarter moon.  Lots of light with only a few clouds in the sky.  This was good news, she knew.  Snowfall would cover her tracks. 

"Mush!  Mush!  Hiya!"  She urged the dogs forward as quietly as she could.  "Mush, Oliver, mush!"  Oliver had always liked her   she’d spent a lot of time playing with him when he was younger.  They were moving, silently except for the sound of the sled on the soft snow.  She took one last look at the rickety house she hoped she never need see again.  Then she turned ahead and steered the dogs north.  North, to safety, and away from the lawlessness of the south.  North, to warmth and the big cities.  North, to civilization and a strange new world, one she’d never before seen. 

She’d heard stories, but stories aren’t enough, she knew, to tell her what it would really be like.

Similar Posts:

• My niece signed up for NaNoWriMo
• The Face in the Mirror
• Children of the Dome
• Flores
• Gateway to the Otherworld