Broken Tower Saga: The First Swordsman

Wrik was bewildered from all the looks he was getting the audience, though none of them dismissed him or anything. Perhaps it was his aura, or the more probable reason should be the man who asked him the question. 

"Folk are waiting, young friend," the man said as he rested him but in the tree's Columb. He steadied the lute in a position to play, looking at him, waiting for him to decide what story he would like to hear.

Wrik arched his eyebrows. The bard should have recognised him, or else he would not ask him,

"Something unexpected?" he asked uncertainty. "Something surreal, but still unexpected."

He clearly had no idea what he should expect now. But the response from the audience told him, it ain't going to be half bad.

"Something unexpected, mhh," the singer said, pondering and pulling a couple of strings from the lute. After a couple more seconds, the sound of the lute rose by a little, catching the attention of the crowd though they were wholeheartedly waiting for the tale to start.

"Found it. A tragedy and horror—quite unexpected and unconventional to my knowledge." The bard played the lute skillfully. "Who would like to hear a story where a girl lost her parents and saved many folks?!"

The question was rhetorical and Wrik could tell, the man just asked to raise the curiosity of the audience. Some can already self-inset even without hearing the story. There were not many of here, who had lost no one. He told them what the ending would be in one sentence—or at least what they would expect it to end with.

"It's a tale of a few hundred years ago," he said while playing the lute slowly. "And the place that it took place was here, too. Truthfully speaking, it was not right here, but to the place where now only the dead live; where night reigns over the day. 

"Once long ago, in a small village along the Tej'Shaher in the surrounding region of Shaidar 'al Galai, lived a girl. At that time the Tej'Shaher was like its name. It flew with vigour." The bard started as if he was starting a fairytale, but Wrik's interest peaked the moment he heard the name Shaidar 'al Galai—whose acronym now had turned into Gala. 

"The girl was small, in age and in shape, but her dream was big. She dreamt of becoming the best healer and cure all the people in her small village. Her mother called her Vani until she lost the capability of speaking. You see, at that time there was a deadly epidemic onslaught. It killed over a couple of million people and it did not stop there. Surprisingly, it did not kill them all, but the few of those who lived had it harder than the ones that died. 

"It paralyzes the entire body slowly with implying agony every day. Many wished to die rather than experiencing that, and many did die rather than suffering the agony." 

Wrik shuddered a little. This disease sounded a little too familiar to him.

"Vani's mother had been suffering through all this for a week, though she only had her feet paralyzed first. From the foreboding of others, she knew what he saw had caught on and knew how hard it would get for her and her daughter. At that time, she made a hard decision. She beat her only daughter that day, declaring all sorts of lines. She even told Vani to leave her house with blood tears in her eyes.

"She knew it would be better for her to die than to be a burden to her daughter. She had seen how folks beat up people just so they were in contact with someone who had the disease. Even though, it was known the pandemic did not consume through people to people." The bad watered his mouth with the little jar he had in his clothes. "People are superstitious and back then, when it was not so developed, some even died for speaking wrong words.

"Vani was quite an intelligent girl of her age and quite observant. She did not leave as her mother told her to, but the poor girl did not know what she would do with her mother as well—after all, she was barely a girl of fourteen or fifteen. She went to the relief station every day, went through begging in the camps of the healers. She went from one station to another with hope for a couple of days, with an empty stomach, but none could help her.

"And then came the other problem. There was no earner in her family after her mother's leg was paralyzed. Her father, who had been dead since she knew—as been told by her mother though she had heard the names some villagers called her and her mothers." 

The music changed to something else and slower.

"Even despite all this, she still had to run the family. Her father, who was forgotten and her mother, who was dying slowly, could not run the family. She used to work at a noble household. Vani had been there before and in hope, she could only go there.

"But alas! The nobles were not so unscrupulous to hire a child for the work. Vani begged, with tears in her eyes and snot in her nostrils. The head of the household, being a little kind, appointed the girl to work in the garden as the helper of the gardener, though there was no need for one.

"Quite an easy job for Vani, with her fast and observant mind. She looked after the flowers during the day and her mother during the night. In between, she did not have it easy either. She had to move a few miles for water and it had not been easy for her, being a small and frail girl to carry it. 

"She did not know how her mother did all these things along with taking care of her. She had asked her before when she could talk. Her mother said back then, 'you will know when you have a child of your own.'

"She woke up before anyone in the village, make food for her and her mother. She ate and made her mother ate who even threw away the food on her face a few times. She never rested, calling her names that she had always protected from. She even called herself a whore and whatnot, beating her own chest. It was the insanity that driver through the pain and the hope for Vani."

The sorrowful music from the lute turned a little sharper. "Vani continued this work for a couple of weeks. She had not gone to tutelage for that time and postponed her dream until she cured her mother.

"At her work, she had gained the trust of the employer after a few weeks, so they gave her a little better wage with a few more light-weighted tasks. But even with all these, her mind did not soothe as her mother was worsening with each day. Her mother could not move even a little by the seventh week, while she could call her name—it was almost unrecognisable." 

Wrik felt his leg a little weak and had the urge to seat down. Without caring about the wailing emotions, he sat among the kids in the dirt. Something shaking inside him. He wished to leave here at the very moment, but his legs did not let him. 

"One evening on her way back home, she heard a rumour. A rumour that made her brighter than anything in her life. Those rumours say that they have found a cure for the disease. Though she did not clearly know about the cure—she had believed it. After all, there was a chance for her mother to recover.

"That night, Vani told her mother about it with tears and a smile on her lips. Her mother cried too and wanted to tell her something, but now only one of her limbs works properly." The bard let the music pierce everyone's heart. He continued in a slow and soothing voice. "Vani went to the camp where the doctors and healers were testing and in there stood people in the number of thousand. It was so crowded that they had to employ thousands of armoured soldiers to block the folks. 

"She recalled, she was not the only unfortunate one there. She told her mother that night that she had to wait a little longer. She slept in the arms of her paralyzed mother, unknowing her life would turn for even worse." 

In between, Wrik had not noticed someone was standing right behind him, wearing large clothes of the male in her small body. Byul had woke up after, Wrik left and without wasting a moment she went after him with the help of Saras who she was not familiar with.

Saras did not wait for them, left silently as if the story did not hold her interest.

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I don't know how this chapter turned out. Please give a little feedback.