Chapter 5 - Yayisha

She felt the shroud lift.  Her mother’s magic no longer draped over her, watching her as if she was a rabid dog.  Why did she drop the veil?  Especially after tonight.  

But then Yayisha realized the reason shouldn’t matter.  Mother knew the possible consequences of freeing her.  Yayisha thought it some kind of trap.  Either that or mother was dead though she hoped not.  There was nobody else to teach her.  

Perhaps mother was using power so great she couldn’t spare the extra power to keep watch on her?  That last thought scared her, for Yayisha had never witnessed anything that commanded her mother’s full magical attention.  Her curiosity piqued, and briefly Yayisha considered seeking her mother’s whereabouts to find out what she was doing.  Then she thought better of it.  Opportunity passed may never come again. She would take advantage of her freedom.

A yawn tickled her throat and she gave into it. Her arms extended as high as she could stretch them.  As they arms descended, the knots of tension in her back and shoulders eased.  She was so tired.  But I can’t sleep.  Not yet.  Not now.

As she sat on the edge of her canopied bed in her temple bedroom, Yayisha spread her senses to find him.  One of the first things mother had taught her was how to enhance her awareness.  Mother forced her to practice this over and over until it had become second nature.  

She could sharpen her eyes so she could see the tiniest of things.   A horsefly as it sat on a wooden rail across the street.  The chaotic sides of a random pebble on the second story of the miller’s roof.  Her sense of smell was enhanced and unscrupulous.  She could smell body odor from people across a room.  The fresh urine of a horse pissing or the stench of the outhouses from across town.  These awful smells mixed with the sweet smell of baked bread and the shocking, exhilarating scents from Diala’s spice shop.   Yayisha had not yet learned to separate these smells, so she used this as little as possible.  

With heightened hearing she listened to things not meant for her ears, some of those about her as she walked through town.  Always there were the hushed conversations when she was with mother. Men mumbled obscenities about her, some mere curses, some more obscene.  A few even boasting of fucking her, of all things. As if mother would have them.  

If the men whispered about mother, the women buzzed like bees as she passed, some like the men loathing her, others idolizing and wishing for her favor.  There wasn’t a woman in town that didn’t speak about mother in one fashion or another.  Only a few said nothing at all. Those were the wisest of them all.  

It was no wonder mother knew everything that happened in town.

Her sense of touch was perhaps the most amazing.  Things she touched felt grainier, surfaces more acute; even the swipe of her fingers across a smooth floor allowed her to feel its contours.  Lying in bed she could feel the individual weaves of the sheets.  If she looked close enough, Yayisha found flaws in individual threads.  There were other, more personal benefits to having sensitive fingers, the thoughts of which made her want to crawl into bed.  The mere thought made her shiver. Later.

It had been theses senses that made her aware of the incoming attack that evening.  She heard the barrels groan, even saw them tremble even through the torrential rain.  She knew they would tip before they actually fell.  It had always allowed her to react first, giving her a distinct advantage to foil her brother’s attempts.  She smiled.  Tonight I proved myself superior once again, brother.  

How she hated him.  She remembered back to before she first touched magic on her seventh birthday.  Animus and she were inseparable.  She loved him, looked out for him, and he tried to do the same for her.  Even at five, Animus tried to protect her.  

Quiet and small as a child, the other boys and girls in the village ganged up on her.  They called her “Knot” for she was so skinny they would threaten to tie her gangly arms and legs together.  They called her weird.  Ugly.  Their cruelty she faced daily, and through most of it remained strong.  

Yet the foolish emotions of being a child overtook her at times.  It then that Animus would charge those with offensive tongues, his little fists swinging.  His fury frightened most kids Yayisha’s age into silence, but it was the older kids that knocked him to the ground as they laughed and ridiculed her even more.  Her little brother always tried to defend her even if it meant getting beat, and she loved him dearly for it.  

She yearned to patch things with Animus, to once more someone to rely on.  That could protect her, maybe even cared for her.  Yet, she shook her head. It can never be.

Yayisha knew theirs was reciprocal magic, something rare among brother and sister.  She sensed the magic in him when he was close, and every day she could sense him from farther away.  The books she’d read on the matter told her they shared a pool of magic, deep and powerful.  Yayisha could feel that power, growing in her every day.  Yet, the older Animus became, the more of her magical power he would leech.  The books said men eventually drained their kin of all her magic, until she had but a trickle. I’ll be nothing more than a dabbler.

At first, Yayisha wasn’t sure.  Yet every reference she read was eerily similar.  She’d checked several books in the temple’s broad library, always wary of mother’s servants that she knew constantly watched her.  Yayisha was nearly certain mother didn’t know.  At least, mother never broached the subject with her.  Yayisha had wanted to tell her, but fear kept her silent.  What if mother decided to take Animus’s side?  She scowled.  She favors him.  He does whatever he wants and I’m stuck in the temple.  

The magic was hers.  All of it.  It was everything she had.  Animus would take that away.

It wasn’t the only reason she hated him.  When she was within fifty feet of him, she felt his mind, knew his thoughts.  Just two days ago she had walked past the bakery and the intensity of his feelings overwhelmed her.  Though alone in the middle of the street, Yayisha felt feminine lips brush against hers, and then a tongue gently prodded between her lips.  Her heart pattered in her chest, and she felt suddenly hot.   She felt herself returning the kiss with zeal.  Then she felt a hand take hers and place in on a female’s leg.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

A horse’s whinny had made her realize what was happening; she felt what Animus was doing.  She nearly screamed as she realized she looked through Animus’s eyes.   Baizee smiled as her lips once more connected with her own.  Or at least it seemed that way.  Yayisha pulled back from the kiss and looked down to see that Animus had his hand was on Baizee’s leg, well under her knee-high skirts.   Yayisha felt everything he did:  his emotions, his desires, and the uncertainty of what to do next.  It absolutely revolted her.

She hated him, for he was free to satisfy his lusts.  Her mother banned her from seeing boys.  Her mother’s repeated phrase echoed in her mind:  “You have great power for one so young.  Discipline is a must, else the very magic you love will shred you.  Let no man close to you.  Make those that you lust after fear you instead.  Drive them away.  There will be plenty of time to fornicate when you’re an established sorceress.  When you are in control.”

Over and over again her mother forced her to repeat it back to her.  Drive them away. Make them fear you.  Yayisha doubted it was necessary. She’d read nothing about a sorceress’s power linked to her virginity, at least not in the books found in mother’s temple.  Doubting the truth of it, she wondered why mother would deceive her.  Everything else mother had taught seemed accurate and true.

Yayisha could’ve had most of the boys in the village had she wanted them.  Her gangly youth evaporated as she became a teenager.  Often she caught the boys and men alike watch her as she walked past.  And those boys that were brave enough to flirt with her, Yayisha did as mother said.  Some even left the village.  The ones I injured. Others she had scared into avoiding her at all costs.  It gave her a sense of satisfaction.  That feeling of power over others elated her.  All that, however, was before these past six months. When she had met Sterl.  

Tears flooded her eyes.  She remembered the first day she saw him.  She had been walking home back to temple when Sterl arrived one night with his father.  They came in with a merchant wagon.   From the moment she saw him, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.  

Sterl’s father had purchased a small cabin at the base of Widow’s peak, the biggest mountain that surrounded the village of Haver.  One evening when she was thinking of him her feet took her to a small copse of tree behind where they lived.  It wasn’t long before her keen ears heard the chopping of wood.  She moved toward the sound and eventually saw Sterl laboring at the woodpile.  She moved closer and hid in the shadows of the trees.  

His shirt lay discarded several near his feet.  Sweat poured off of him, glistening drops running down his back.  After he split a log, Sterl straightened and wiped the soaked blond hair from his brow. The sun highlighted his wide shoulders and lean waist.  Yayisha marveled at his handsomeness and watched for over an hour until his father called him to the cabin for dinner.  She barely slept that night.  All she could do was think of him.  

Over the next several months, Sterl rarely said more than “hello” to her.  But she could see the hunger in his eyes.  Unlike the other boys, however, she yearned for Sterl.  

Every free moment she sought him.  She never openly approached him, simply made herself available to be talked to, hoping he walk toward her.  Lately she walked closer to him, and over the last few days met his stare.   Each time his gaze lingered on hers just a bit longer.  Such a prize, that one.

Once she purposely bumped into him near a merchant’s stand while he looked the other way.  When he realized it was her, he mumbled apologies and stepped away, bowing as he went.  Bowing!  As if I was a queen.  

It made her want him even more.  The wonderment of Sterl distracted her, even from her studies.  She would dream of being in his arms, the sensation of his body pressed against hers, his lips kissing her on the lips, the neck, the….

Tears found her cheeks again.  This time she thrust herself to the bed, allowing the weakness of sadness to overtake her.  It had been Sterl behind those barrels.  My Sterl.  She’d never wanted to hurt him.  She had no idea it was him behind them else she’d have just caught the barrels and tossed them to the side.  

Then her mother was there, patting her head.  “Sit up, daughter.”

Yayisha did as she was bid.

Zelicia wiped a tear from her daughter’s cheek. “You cared for him?”

Yayisha nodded.

Her mother slapped her.  

Yayisha cried harder then, shame and guilt taking hold.  

Mother stood over her and gripped her chin hard, forcing Yayisha to look up at her.   For a moment, her mother glared at her as if she was a disgusting cur.  And then, unbelievably, mother released her chin and pull her into an unfamiliar hug.  “I’ll see the boy has the best care,” Zelicia said.

After a few more moments, mother cupped Yayisha’s face in her hands once again, this time gentler.  “Stay here.  Sleep.  All will be well in the morning.”  Then mother turned and left the room.  

Do I love Sterl?   Part of her knew it didn’t matter, not anymore.  After tonight, he’d fear her like the rest of boys did.  

Yayisha wiped the tears away, forcing herself to stop crying.   She stood and balled her hands into fists.  Sterl had been the one she wanted.  Animus had ruined that, just like he would her magic.  Rage overtook sadness as Zelicia opened her senses.  Still, mother’s familiar web she left draped over her shoulders had not reappeared.  Why was mother freeing her of her normal, watchful gaze?  

Again, she reminded herself, it didn’t matter.  Now I have my chance.

She stood and dressed, choosing black leather pants and a green shirt that clung tight, thinking perhaps she would go sit by Sterl’s bedside and hold his hand.  Maybe even kiss him. As she retrieved a dry cloak from her closet, she gazed into the body-length mirror.  After pulling her hair into a tight knot and securing it to the back of her head, she said, “First, I deal with Animus.”