Unbound: Slave to the Desert Sands

It’s strange how the most extraordinary days often start out as anything but. In fact, this morning was truly like any other the quiet people of Bleakburn had seen that week, or for months for that matter. They had had an exceptional fall harvest, and the winter appeared to be coming on slowly the days barely seeming to shorten, with promise of a short and merciful season. As always the town came alive as soon as the sun started peaking above the horizon. Horses bustled along the cobbled streets with their sleepy wardens rubbing their eyes as they sat atop the carts. The wide streets were starting to fill with market people setting up their stalls and preparing their good, positioning them just so in order to catch the eye of a passerby. Builders set up their ladders and made their way to the thatched roofs, they had been busy fortifying the thatching in order to ensure its hold against the snow that would eventually come.             Bleakburn was a tiny village nestled in the foothill forest of the mountain range that spanned the north border of the Kingdom of Creed. Although small, the village was self -sustaining. They occasionally had the odd traveler pass by but more often than not visitors simply there to work in the mines that spanned underneath the mountains or to collect logging materials from the great forests that surrounded them.             Bleakburn’s only Inn, the Rusty Nail, was run by a sweet older woman named Miss April Bucket. Miss Bucket was short and very round. Her features were typical of Creesan blood, she had long light golden brown hair with brown eyes and light skin. Her honey colored hair was tied back in a tight bun. She wasn’t unpleasant looking, In fact, in her best years she had been quite lovely, although she had chosen never to marry. She had inherited her father’s inn and it had always been her true love. She bustled about it with the precision of someone who had done the same routine for years. She tottered from table to table, picking up the glasses from the night’s festivities with one hand, balancing an incredible weight on the tray she held aloft, and then wiping the grime away with a warm rag. She hustled her burden into the kitchen and was about to set it in the sink when the back door to the garden flew open, nearly knocking her flat and sending her tray askew.             “Kaia!” Miss Bucket squeaked exasperated.             “I’m sorry!” The girl yelped, quickly righting the tray and nimbly catching a stein that was teetering off. She straightened, brushing a wild mane of hair out of her face. She looked nothing like Miss Bucket, She was tall and willowy with skin so pale it looked transparent in the right light. Her eyes were bright blue but not cold, more the color of the ocean on a calm day. Her hair was long and wild, and the color of a raven’s wings. Kaia looked down at Miss bucket and gave her a cheeky grin.             “I brought in the eggs,” she said, offering the basket she had hooked on her arm. “The hens did well this morning.” She laughed at the irritated look on Miss Bucket’s face.             “And why, exactly, are you up so early?” Miss Bucket snatched the basket and quickly turned her back on the girl before her feigned look of annoyance cracked. She bustled over to the counter and put the eggs down, before turning around with and looked at the girl with her nose turned up, attempting to look stern. Kaia shrugged, holding her hands out in mock surrender.             “ I wanted to spend some time with the horses before the breakfast rush came in.” She gave Miss Bucket her most pleading look, eyes wide with innocence. Miss Bucket scoffed as if she hadn’t known that answer was coming.             “ Yes alright,” She said with a chuckle, “ but you better be cleaned up and ready to serve before the rush comes in. And tie up your hair, you look wild.” Kaia swooped in and planted a quick kiss on Miss Bucket’s cheek before swiftly swiping a still hot sweet bun from the tray fresh out of the oven and nimbly dancing out of reach of the dishcloth Miss Bucket snapped at her.                    “OUT!” Kaia laughed as she jogged out the door and down the cobbled stairs toward the horse shed they kept out back for traveler’s steeds. Miss Bucket couldn’t not stay irritated with her for long, she had never been able to. In the eight years since Miss Bucket had taken her in, she had never been truly cross with her young ward. They were each other’s best friends and main companion. Now sixteen, Kaia was a woman, easily old enough to marry, and if she had been raised by anyone else she almost certainly would have been married off for some dowry. But Miss Bucket had raised her to be strong and independent and to make her own choices. Kaia had met many men since she worked in the inn, but none had struck her fancy. Not that she hadn’t struck the interest of many a wondering eye, however, Kaia was a beauty afterall, and exotic looking compared to the brown haired, short stature of most Creesan women. It had gained her many male admirers and also the spite of many women. She stuck to herself mostly along with Miss Bucket of course. She often had conversations with the clients in the Rusty Nail and lived for the stories from the occasional traveler. When not working she lived for the moments she could steal away in the barn. She felt at home among the horses, and they all were very taken with her as well. She laughed softly as Night Runner, huge black destrier, nuzzled her cheek softly in expectation. He knew, as always, that she had brought him a lump of sugar. His rider was a traveling messenger named Grimold that always stayed at the Rusty Nail, and was quite found of Miss Bucket and Kaia. She remembered fondly the day she had met Grimold all those years ago. She was only ten at the time, he had come riding up in the evening, dead tired from his travels and asked if they had a room to spare. Grimold was a surprisingly young man who had the appearance of a much older one. His thick brown beard was tangled and had flashes of grey, likely from the stresses of the open road. His kind eyes were light brown and lit up when he talked, they crinkled at the sides as though he was always smiling. Kaia had liked him immediately. The young girl had naturally gone to take the bridle to steady the horse that was stomping with irritation at not being on the open road. “Hold on there, little lady, this beast is mean, he will take your fingers off for a snack,” The messenger had warned. Too late, Kaia had approached the giant horse who calmed immediately and placed his head in her tiny hands to be stroked. Miss Bucket had looked on with pride and the rider had laughed, “ You have a natural on your hands.” He had told her. Kaia smiled at the memory, brushing down the horse, savoring in the calming routine. Night Runner nickered happily, munching on his hay. She settle down in the stall by the destrier’s feet and pulled a book out from under the hay where she had stowed it. It was her most recent gift from Grimold, who always brought her something when he visited. Every since he had discovered she could read and write, something few in Bleakburn could do, he had brought her books from all around the world. Kaia had been able to read since before she came to Bleakburn, she had attempted to teach Miss Bucket, but the old woman did not have the patience for it, simply scoffing, “That’s what I have you for my dear.” Kaia had long since taken over doing the books and finances for the Rusty Nail, proving invaluable to the innkeeper. Along with reading and writing, Kaia had a gift for languages. She had been taught eight different tongues as a small child, ranging from the basic tongue spoken in Creed to the faraway languages such as the one spoken by the Moroji sand nomads. Although she had never met a sand nomad she had heard they are master traders and can live in the most desolate of places and still find water. She was thrilled when Grimold brought her a small book written in their artistic curving language and had already read it twice through, studying every twist and turn, the hand written ink glistened with color and beauty. Her mind drifted off as she read, taking her off to the fantastic bazaars and beyond.