Florisia (Book 1) Read online

  He picked up what appeared to be a smooth, egg-shaped, black rock, studying it under torchlight. Scratching his head, as he always did when he needed to think, he wondered how the bag found its way inside his hat. What if the creature stole it to make its home more comfortable? Someone might be looking for it…

  Too tired to think anymore, he dropped the rock back into the old Hessian bag and slipped it under his pillow. Maybe he should give the thing to Garth in the morning and let him try to find its owner. Whatever. He would think up a plan in the morning, when his brain didn't feel like someone had filled it with porridge. Unable to stifle a yawn, Raff slid down under the blankets, and sleep claimed him within seconds.

  * * *

  Oo-kay. So this is boring… Raff paced back and forth in The Circle waiting for something called a portal to appear. The Circle Guardian had rattled off the instructions in a bored monotone, as if he'd said them a thousand times before, and left.

  He smiled as he touched the rock in its bag, hidden inside his jacket. In the cold light of day, leaving his newly acquired treasure with Garth just didn't seem right. After all, Raff didn't steal the thing. Who knew, he might have been meant to find it all along?

  Raff snapped out of his thoughts at the sight of a small dot of light hovering in front of his face. His jaw dropped as the dot expanded, stretching into a doorway large enough for him to enter.

  Whoa... this is so cool!

  Without hesitation, he stepped into the light, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might explode out of his chest. If this sort of stuff was normal where he was going, he couldn’t wait to get there.

  * * *

  Raff stood inside the glass portal, scratching his head and trying to remember what the old Circle Guardian told him. Apparently, there should be a door...

  His eyes widened as the outline of a door appeared in what, only seconds ago, had been a smooth glass wall. Man, this adventure just keeps getting better. Eager to find out what waited on the other side, he moved toward the door, freezing as a movement to his right caught his eye, and another door appeared.

  No way, he was sure the old guy only mentioned one door.

  Unbelievable!

  And of course, the doors were identical.

  So how did he figure out which was the right one?

  His eyes flicked between the two doors, his mind buzzing as he tried to work out the solution. Well, the door in front appeared first. So… the other one might be like a decoy? To see if he was listening to the instructions from the Guardian?

  Yes, that must be it! Just like his teacher at school sometimes did, throwing in a loop to check he was paying attention - which he usually wasn't.

  Hah, you can't fool me! His chest swelled with pride as he congratulated himself for working out the puzzle.

  Right… here goes nothing! He grinned, reaching for the door in front of him, turned the handle, and strode confidently into the unknown.

  Chapter Three

  - Belle -

  “Belle, would you like to stay and finish your drawing? I have some work to do before I leave."

  Belle looked up into the kind eyes of her teacher, Miss Lorenz. She paused, almost finished packing her bag, and considered the offer. She would love to stay back, but would Griz's punishment be worth it?

  Why not? The rebellious thought took her by surprise, allowing the temptation to stay in her pleasant surroundings, for once, to outweigh the fear of the punishment waiting when she got home.

  After all, she only had one more night to endure in Naissance, so how bad could it be? Shrugging, she nodded and smiled at Miss Lorenz, reached into her bag and pulled out the sketch pad and pencils she just packed away.

  Opening up to the page she'd been working on, the magnificent jet-black horse from her dreams almost leapt off the page at her. She smiled in wistful longing at the beautiful creature running through a meadow bursting with flowers, wishing with all her heart she could be there too.

  Admittedly, her drawing bore little resemblance to the horses in Naissance, or at least the ones she only ever saw from a distance. Shaggy, under-fed, creatures, who pulled ploughs for the farmers on the outskirts of the village during the day, and stood listless and exhausted in their small paddocks at night.

  She smiled, pushing away all thoughts of what would happen later, as she continued to bring her picture to life. Concentrating on getting the exact shading she needed for the sky, Belle jumped when a cry of dismay came from the front of the classroom.

  Miss Lorenz sat wringing her hands in front of her, a worried frown on her lovely face. "Oh Belle, I'm terribly sorry. I got so caught up in my work, I didn't notice the time. It's almost four o'clock! You'd best get home, Griz will be so worried about you."

  Belle froze, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She would be an hour late getting home, and Griz, her Guardian for the last fourteen years, would make her pay. Miss Lorenz had no idea of the reality of Belle's home life.

  Worry... Griz... as if! Oh wait... Griz might be worried about how little time she had left to make Belle's life a misery! Shoving her things into her bag, Belle ran out the door, thanking Miss Lorenz for letting her stay.

  "Happy Birthday for tomorrow," Miss Lorenz called from behind her, as Belle raced down the path and out the school gates. Despite being terrified, a tiny ray of hope blossomed inside her chest. Tomorrow, she turned fourteen, and would leave Naissance forever. Not that she knew where she was going. But anywhere was better than here!

  Excited and distracted by the thought of escaping her miserable existence, she failed to see Griz standing on the verandah.

  "You're late... AGAIN!" The words Belle had been dreading all the way home hit her like a slap in the face, making her stumble on the uneven path leading up to the house.

  "I'm so sorry Griz," Belle called as she ran up the steps. "I stayed late to help Miss Lorenz clean the classroom." She cringed, hoping the lie would help dampen Griz's anger. Which, of course, it didn’t.

  "I don't care where ya've been, or what ya were doin', there'll be no dinner for ya again tonight ya wicked child!" Griz growled, clipping the back of Belle's head with her big, ugly hand. "There's a list o' jobs that need doin' before ya go to bed, so ya'd best start if ya expect to finish before midnight."

  Belle sighed, earning herself yet another swipe from Griz's hand. She plodded upstairs to her room, needing to drop off her bag and throw on some old work clothes.

  "And don't go dawdlin' up there!" The voice followed Belle up the stairs; as if Griz knew her opportunities to inflict pain were coming to an end. "Them poor-me sighs, and the long face, won't work with me; ya'll finish all the jobs on the list if it takes all night!"

  Belle reached her room and closed the door, shuddering as she tried to drown out the voice having the same effect as fingernails scraping down a chalkboard.

  Why did Griz hate her so much? What did she ever do to deserve this miserable life? Oh wait... that’s right. She was born a freak!

  She sucked in a couple of deep breaths, determined to hold back the tears threatening to leak out since Griz told her she wouldn't be eating dinner... again.

  Not that being hungry was anything new. Lately, dinner had become more of a privilege than a right. If not for her friend Niarne's generosity at school that day, Belle would be starving. Niarne brought to school a virtual feast of food - with the excuse of celebrating Belle's birthday early. Hugging her only friend, Belle had thanked her over and over.

  Niarne, a girl as beautiful on the inside as the outside, had worked out the truth about Belle's miserable home life over the years. Niarne would always just happen to have an extra piece of fruit, a sandwich she didn't like, or a slice of cake that was way too much for one person.

  At first, Belle had politely refused the offered food, but as she got older, the enjoyment Griz derived from punishing her escalated, which meant Belle often went to bed hungry. Some of the other girls sniggered behind her back, making
comments like 'poor old Belle's got no food again today... s'pose her Guardian doesn't wanna waste the food on a cursed freak.' But Niarne would simply tell her to ignore them, claiming they were jealous of Belle's beautiful, dark velvet, skin.

  "What are ya doin' up there? Get down here and start choppin' some wood! I want a nice warm fire blazin' before the night air sets in!" The voice droned on, muffled but audible through the closed door. Belle wiped her eyes and quickly changed her clothes. May as well get it over with.

  She ran downstairs to the kitchen to check the jobs list, biting back the urge to scream when she saw what Griz expected done. Her guardian had truly outdone herself this time; there were enough jobs to keep Belle going for a week! But any complaints would only earn her another clip to the back of the head, or worse.

  “Fine… whatever, she mumbled under her breath, stuffing the list in her pocket as she trudged outside to start chopping wood.

  It was almost midnight when Belle finally finished the last job, mopping the kitchen floor. She sighed, soaking up the blissful silence in the house with Griz and her two foster-sisters in bed. Totally exhausted, she giggled when she realised she was using the mop to keep herself upright. Carrying the mop and bucket outside, she hung the mop over the fence, and emptied the bucket into the garden.

  She stretched and drank in the cool night air. Millions of stars twinkled above her, the moon so full, it appeared ready to topple out of the sky; shedding so much light it seemed more like dawn than midnight.

  She moved to the back gate and rested her elbows on the fence, closing her eyes and allowing her imagination to run wild. She pictured the beautiful black horse she sketched at school, the one who often appeared in her dreams, racing across the top of a nearby hill, his long silky mane and tail dancing in the wind.

  In her mind he stopped, turning his head towards her. He reared up on his back legs, pawing the air and revelling in his freedom, releasing what sounded like a high-pitched scream as he stretched his neck and shook his forelock from his eyes.

  Belle opened her eyes and the images vanished, replaced by thoughts of climbing into bed and collapsing. Turning to walk back inside, she kept her eyes on the ground as she walked. The last thing she needed was to step in the puddle where she emptied the water bucket and walk mud in on the clean floor.

  Which was how she noticed something sticking out of the muddy patch, half buried below the surface. Curious, she bent and scrabbled in the wet soil, pulling out a soaking wet old cloth bag. She shook it, trying to remove some of the water and sticky black soil.

  Why would anyone bother to bury an empty bag? Maybe they took whatever was inside, and buried the bag to avoid discovery.

  About to throw it away, she hesitated, deciding it might come in handy. It was about the same size as the tatty little book Miss Lorenz gave her on her thirteenth birthday, the one with no words in it. The book was nothing special, but a gift was a rare thing in Belle's life, and she treasured it. Having the little book safely tucked inside the bag would make it much easier to take with her in the morning.

  Breathing a heavy sigh, she slipped the bag into her pocket and dragged her tired body back inside. Despite her exhaustion, she smiled as she climbed the stairs to her room, visions of the magnificent black horse filling her mind and pushing all other thoughts away.

  * * *

  Griz's excessive vigour with the scrubbing brush the next morning was the worst nightmare ever. Insults spewing from her mouth, Griz seemed determined to make one final attempt to 'rub the horrible blackness’ off her skin, and at least make her ‘look like a normal girl, even if ya don't act like one'. The attempted purging, as Griz called it, had been part of her morning routine for so many years, she’d stopped caring long ago.

  But on that particular morning, the cruel words managed to pierce the fragile bubble of hope Belle had built up at her impending freedom. The insidious doubts and uncertainty about her future crept in uninvited. What if people felt exactly the same where she was going? What if it was worse, and they killed people who were ugly and disfigured like her?

  With a final shove of disgust, Griz threw her hands in the air, muttering about 'doing her best' and Belle ‘staying cursed forever.' In the end, she’d wished Griz would just drown her and be done with it.

  Her skin on fire, Belle climbed wearily out of the bath and dressed in silence, leaving the house to walk to The Circle alone.

  * * *

  Belle was too distracted by the pain caused by her clothes touching her tender, raw skin to digest what the Circle Guardian told her before he left. All she remembered was something about a portal, whatever that was, and a door.

  She was just so tired. Closing her eyes, she tried to conjure up the image of the black stallion. But her mind was too busy running through all the ‘whatifs’ about her future.

  She sighed, opened her eyes, and stared at the bright spot of light floating in front of her. No way… she had to be imagining it. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, but instead of vanishing, the spot of light grew into the shape of a door large enough to enter.

  This was what The Circle Guardian had been talking about? She was supposed to walk into a wall of light? Unbridled terror surged through her body.

  She clutched her little book tightly in her hand, rubbing her thumbs across the cover, as she often did when she felt nervous. Her stomach growled, nausea rising up into her throat. Whether from fear or hunger, she wasn't sure.

  She sucked in a deep breath, her heart hammering in her chest, and considered her options.

  Stay or go?

  But go where?

  Anywhere but here, remember?

  She shuddered. Staying was not an option she was prepared to consider. How much worse could the unknown be than the nightmare she was already living?

  Okay… decision made. Go it is!

  Clutching her little book to her chest, Belle lifted her chin and forced her feet to move, stepping into the light and her unknown future.

  * * *

  Belle’s chest tightened, panic clawing at her throat and making it almost impossible to breathe. She hated enclosed spaces, and finding herself encased in a small glass room made her legs shake so bad she wanted to collapse to the floor and never get up.

  She almost cried in relief as a door appeared in the wall in front of her. Even though she was terrified of what might lay beyond the door, the thought of being stuck in this room had to be worse. But just as she moved toward the door in front of her, another one appeared to her left.

  You have got to be kidding! What do I do now?

  Trying to calm her breathing, she ran through the instructions from The Circle Guardian in her mind, unable to recall any mention of a second door. Great… now she actually had to choose which path to follow into the unknown.

  Laughter bubbled up inside her at the irony of the situation. Here she stood, in a glass box, with two doors leading to who-knew-where, and for the first time in her life she had a choice! Even better, no-one was here ridicule her if she picked the wrong one. Besides, whichever door she chose, she would probably never know what would have awaited her outside the other one.

  She studied the two identical doors and squared her shoulders. Smiling, she clung to the one certainty in her future... Griz would definitely not be on the other side of either of them. She chose the door in front of her, for no other reason than because she could.

  Chapter Four

  - Tyranius -

  Unbelievable! Tyranius, the Elder Guardian of Florisia, threw down the latest report in disgust. How could six children with mixed blood come through the portals in one day? How were there even that many of them left?

  What a nuisance! He knew the two sent to Dragardia would be dealt with swiftly and quietly, no questions were ever asked there. And the one in Valleron? Well, the child would meet with the usual, unfortunate accident. Humans were always prone to accidents, such a clumsy race.

  But the three who arrived in Florisia would be a
problem. The headmistress at the Fey Academy, Madame Persimmons, was a suspicious old witch. She always asked so many questions when a student went missing. How could he dispose of three at once without raising suspicion?

  He moved from behind his desk and started pacing back and forth. His job would be so much easier if the mixed-bloods were eliminated before they stepped out of the portal. But the Supreme Council wouldn't consider it, preferring the deaths to appear as random events, far removed from the portals. Deaths within the portals would raise suspicions pointing towards the Guardians, the last thing they needed with the fulfilment of their long-awaited goals finally in sight.

  Tyranius grunted in disgust. He would never understand why the Council remained obsessed with all this ancient prophecy mumbo-jumbo. Why worry about drivel written by some rambling fool over a thousand years ago? Surely if there were any truth to it, something would have happened by now? The only threat to their unopposed rule had been the legendary amulet, which was destroyed centuries ago.

  According to legend, each of the three pieces of the amulet were created by a separate race, requiring the most Gifted representative from each race to merge the pieces. The amulet was then infused with the magical ability to seek and destroy those who threatened the safety of the world then known as When.

  But it would take three equally Gifted beings to wield it as a weapon anyway, and that threat had been eradicated along with the amulet. With the worlds separated for the last thousand years, and any child born with mixed blood identified by the age portal and disposed of immediately, the amulet's power ceased to exist.

  “If it ever existed!” Tyranius huffed. He felt the same way about the amulet as the prophecy; more mumbo-jumbo invented by the mind of a long dead fool.