Broken

by Janikaa
In her dreams, she was falling.
It was more or less what she always dreamed these days. Sometimes she hit the bottom, and sometimes she didn't.
The nights that she didn't, those were the nights that weren't so bad.
Janikaa rose, rubbing her dark-skinned face with both hands, her palm moving over the long scar that extended the line of her mouth out to an expression that parodied a permanent, deep frown. Going to her bags, she washed briefly and then dressed, smoothing the lines of her dark, simple dress absently. She set her white hair up and out of her face, her movements spare and her eyes fixed on nothing in particular. She did not use a mirror, and there were none to be found in her room.
Without further adornment, she gathered her things and went out to the shores of the lake near the Exodar.
Janikaa smiled and held out her hands, feeling the warmth of the sunlight on them and taking a deep breath as she finished her morning rituals of praise and thanks to the Light for sustaining them. Glancing into the rippled waters of the decorative fountain nearby, she turned a lock of her hair around her finger and rubbed her lips together, spreading the light color on them a bit more evenly. 
There was a boisterous voice nearby, a familiar one, and she adjusted the skirts on her hips quickly just as two men came into view. 
"Come, come this way!" Tanvir gestured to the man walking with him, grinning widely. "Janikaa!" He held out his arms to her, and she went to him, taking his hands and squeezing them affectionately. 
He nodded to the man at his side, of similar size, build and dress, the both of them in matching armor. "Janikaa, this is Icolos, one of my fellows in the Hand! We have fought together many times!" He gestured sweepingly as he spoke, his voice booming. 
Janikaa nodded to the man politely and he returned it in kind, watching his friend with an amused smile. 
"Icolos, this is Janikaa...she is the woman I am going to marry!" He announced, intertwining his fingers with hers. 
Janikaa blinked, blushing deeply, and ducked her head shyly, a wide smile spreading across her face...they had not yet discussed such things, but she knew that he spoke the truth.
Eyes closed, two fingers held to her lips in almost a hushing gesture, Janikaa moved her other arm in a slow arc parallel to the surface of the water below. Water was the newest element to come at her call under the instruction of the Broken ones who had brought the art to their people. Under her guidance, the water started to rush in whorls and eddies around the base of the thick totem planted at the shore, and healing energy trickled in small rivulets through her skin.
Healing didn't come as easily now as it did when she called the Light, but she would not do that any longer. Stirring slightly, she regarded the water through half-lidded eyes and began again, trying to deepen her concentration. If it was not as easy, then she would simply have to try harder.
A soft rumble from her stomach distracted her, reminding her that she had to eat. She quickly chewed a few mouthfuls of bread, the taste and the texture of it going unnoticed, and drank a bit of water.
She returned to her rituals.
The four of them lounged in the sun, the remains of their impromptu picnic lunch still spread across the colorful blanket under them, the light wind bringing floating puffs of seeds from local Ragveil plants as it moved over the plains of Nagrand. There was a sudden squeal from Hasit and Janikaa blinked, turning to see his father scooping him up in large blue arms and holding him aloft in the sky. 
"Me too! Me too!" Dulari pouted, tugging at Tanvir's pants leg, and he easily hoisted her with his other arm, carrying a child on each shoulder. He started to spin slowly and both of them giggled madly, clinging to his neck on either side. 
Janikaa clapped in time with their turning as she watched them, laughing, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her heart ached with an almost overwhelming wave of adoration and affection.
Janikaa scattered a pinch of sand over the page of her duty log to keep the fresh ink from sticking to the opposite page as she closed the book, in it a simple account of her practicing her calling of the elements. There was nothing else that had happened of note today. Soon they would be gathering to raid the Orcs giving the Humans problems in their town of Redridge. She would be there to close wounds and provide support.
She pondered, briefly, the Hand as it was these days, the state of the unit. They had adequate force. There would likely not be problems. Likely the only matters of concern would be in the very different people and personalities coming together to work as one, but those would work themselves out for the most part. They often did. If need be, she could take people aside and remind them of their duty and their obligations.
She sat for a few moments, at a loss for something else to do and watching her hands. At length, she gathered some scraps of leather from her bags, a thick needle and strong thread, and started to work the pieces together. Her eyes followed the movements of the needle without expression.
It had been raining, as if the skies themselves were weeping at what was being wrought. Flashes of lightning illuminated the rise in stark relief. In the distance, from the corner of her eye, she could see a group of the creatures, the Orcs, dragging a twitching, whimpering woman upright before they cut her throat. Her body was pushed over the edge, falling down into the pile below. The Orcs laughed. 
Janikaa hardly noted it. She had prayed for the Light to save them, and then when that task seemed to great she had begged the force that came so easily to her call, she had begged the Naaru, she had begged any power that would listen that just her family be spared, somehow. She watched the rain hit her hands, fixated on it, on the way the almost unnaturally bright blue blood was dripping off her skin one droplet at a time, washed away by the water. 
Her empty, empty hands. 
They'd slaughtered the men first, eviscerating them where they stood. Somewhere near the edge of the Lower City, Tanvir's head was on a pike. He had tried to buy them time...it had not been enough. Next they had eliminated their future enemies, throwing the children off the rise. Tearing them from their mothers' arms, laughing about how their screams had sounded like the slaughter of pigs. And then the women they saved for last, to amuse themselves with.
She was yanked roughly to a standing position and dragged to the others, and she knew it was her turn. A profound wave of relief swept through her, knowing it would be over soon. After she didn't respond to their prodding or shouting for a while, one of them approached her with a curved knife. It was slid into her mouth, the blade facing out, and yanked through her cheek, slicing it open. 
It was just the beginning, but it would be over soon. There was nothing they could do to her that would be worse than what had already happened, and then it would be done.
Well after the sun had set outside, Janikaa performed her morning preparations in reverse in the small room she had come to occupy in the Exodar. She took down her hair and changed into a plain white nightdress, her hands absently smoothing the lines of it. She ate another few mouthfuls of bread, drank a bit more water, and laid down, watching the ceiling for a while before she drifted off to sleep.
The Light's greatest betrayal was that she was still alive.
In her dreams, she was falling.
Category: Stories