Janess: Chapter 1
The warm waters lapped at her shins as she walked out into the lake. The once clear liquid was now a light brown from years of pollution and dirt that filled the small watering hole. The bright yellow-white sands of the desert glared into her eyes as she stopped. Her feet gripped the muddy ground, letting the mush seep between her toes. She liked that feeling, as the warm sludge spread and covered her feet. Far off she could hear the muffled sound of the market place. The heat from the sun continued to beat down, warming her healthy dark skin.
Janess had gone down to the lake to fill a small bucket with water for her family. They were not her real family, though. They were related to her, yes, but they were not her father and mother. She lived with her aunt and uncle, in a village many miles away from the place she was born. In fact, her name was not even Janess. Janess was a name she had given herself after she left her mother to live with her aunt and uncle. That was a year ago, however, during her childhood. She had reached the age of womanhood now, but still had one more year until she was acknowledged as an adult of marriageable age by her society.
She helped her aunt and uncle care for the small crops they were able to grow in the harsh desert sands. This is what she needed the water for. It had been particularly hot these past few days, and the sun was drying out their plants. She had been going out to the lake three to five times a day recently.
Concentrating on her task at hand, she took her wooden bucket and bent down allowing the murky waters to rush in. Her black hair fell down alongside her face. She could see a few of the silver streaks that ran among the rest of her coal colored hair. The bucket was heavy as she lifted it out of the water and stood up. With a slight brush of her hand she moved her hair out of her face behind her ear. The bottom of her dress was wet and gathered sand as she walked out on the shore, but she did not mind. She liked the feel of the cool fabric against her skin, and in a matter of minutes the water would evaporate anyway. The skin on her arms and face had a slight shine of sweat caused by the intense heat of her hostile world.
She approached her village, and walked down the dusty roads, her feet barely feeling the heat of the ground due to the hard calluses that had formed on her soles. She was heading towards the small home that her family lived in. Her aunt and uncle had no children of their own, though they had tried. They were one of the many couples of the world that had fallen victim to the sterilization caused by the remaining effects of the great wars. It was unbelievable that anyone had survived the great conflict. They left the planet devastated, with no governments or major cities remaining in power. That old world, of prosperity and lush fields with ripe harvests, was now nothing more than a memory among the people. A memory that had been passed down from generation to generation to remind everyone of their past greatness.
The Priests and Priestess now held the explicit information of the past, but did not share it with others. Last time their people had advanced technology, they nearly wiped out all life on their planet. Janess hoped to one day become a Priestess and lead her people into a new light and way of life. But for now, the crops had to be watered, so they could survive another year in the deserts of her world.
She entered her home and walked through the small rooms out towards the back. There, their crops were planted, reaching towards the sky, though they were burdened by drooping dry leaves. She poured the water out of the bucket around the plants, turning the light brown dirt into a dark mud.
“Janess, are you almost done with the watering?” her aunt called from within the house. Their house consisted of three rooms, a room for her aunt and uncle, a room for herself and a room for cooking, eating, and living. The walls of the house were made from metallic scraps left over from the ancient buildings that used to be common in this area, as well as several tarps and blankets to keep the sun out on extremely hot days.
“Yes, Krisha,” Janess called back as she poured out the last of the water.
“I could use your help preparing dinner,” Krisha called to her niece as she moved about the common room getting ready for the evening meal.
“I will be right there,” Janess said as she turned and began to walk back to their dusty house, and placed the bucket down just outside the back door. She then walked into their small kitchen and began to pull out the different cooking utensils that would be needed for the meal.
“I need you to run to the market for me,” Krisha said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out some money. “We need a little more bread for the meal. If you could get either some baked bread or wheat to make it.”
Janess took the money from her aunt. Though her aunt was her mother’s sister, she did not look like Janess at all. Her face was much wider than hers, with a smaller pushed up nose, and ears that were almost flat against her head. She was thin like Janess, but that was because of the lack of food that had ravaged the planet for many years. Janess had a leaner face, and skin that was pulled tight across her body. She could not remember a time when she had not been hungry, but there was nothing that could be done about that. Many of her people feared that their end and doom was near, either by slow starvation, or endless droughts, or the many battles that occurred between villages and among villagers. There had been rumors of a new government forming in the eastern city of Torraghma. A group of people from across their old country were trying to pull together and reestablish a central government, and restore peace to the land. But it was most likely no more than a myth. Janess had never seen Torraghma nor spoken with anyone who claimed to have been there.
“I will be back as soon as I can,” Janess promised, and as she left their home she passed her uncle on the way out. He was returning home after trying to make some money in whatever way he could. Janess lowered her head and eyes to the ground as she walked by. It was the custom of her people not to speak to the men in control unless spoken too. Her uncle did not have a particular likening to her, so he rarely spoke to Janess. She went by him, without him offering the slightest acknowledgment of her presence. People rarely did, except for Krisha.
Most people did not want to associate themselves with Janess because she was a woman, and also because of her unclean past. It was another reason why she wanted to join the Priesthood. If she became a priestess, then her past would be wiped clean, and she would be given a new name. However, she could never forget her true heritage.
She walked into the market place and began to look for bread and wheat. The market consisted of one main road lined on either side by temporary huts where merchants from all over would come and set up their shop for either a day, week, month, or year. Most huts were made only of wooden tables and large sheets of cloth overhead to cover and provide some light protection from the relentless heat. There were other smaller streets that branched off of the main road, formed by the placement of the trader huts. Those smaller roads would change on a daily basis depending on how many vendors came to the village.
Janess never liked going to the market. As she walked through the streets, fearful thoughts always occupied her mind, and she feared she would get cheated out of money, robbed or worse. She came up to a vender who was selling loaves of bread for three volki each. It was a good price, compared to last time she went to the market; she bought a bundle of wheat for near twenty volki, which made only four loves of bread. Granted though, the loaves of bread that this vender was selling were smaller than most other ones she had seen. But the price could not be beat. She used the money Krisha had given her and bought six loaves of bread. She placed them in a small woven basket and began to leave the market.
As she walked through the crowds, she continued to look over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her. Behind her she saw a rather large, dark-skinned, man who had a few small streaks of silver in his hair. She forced herself to look forward again, and continued walking, trying to ignore the man. Casually, she glanced back once again as she neared the exit of the market. The man was still behind her, but he pretended to be looking at some food being sold by one of the venders.
Janess quickly ducked down an alleyway when she thought he was not looking, and moved between the tightly built shacks, taking as many turns as she could. She looked back behind her shoulder every chance she got to see if the man was pursuing her. The alleyways were empty, but she could hear his footsteps approaching, echoing off the dilapidated walls.
She continued to move as fast as she could through the small sandy streets, as the sun continued to heat the land even though it was low in the western sky. She took several turns until she found herself outside of the village limits. She had moved far west, out into the entrance of one of the many wastelands. The sun was shining in her eyes as she looked across the bright white sand. She noticed something glistening in the distance. It was small and far off.
Janess looked over her shoulder one last time. She listened and did not hear anyone coming. One foot stepped out into the desert, and the other soon followed. She walked out into the endless hot sands, with her basket of bread still on her arm. The sun was setting, the lower part of it almost touching the horizon. Janess could still see in the distance something reflecting the light of the setting sun.
She squinted her eyes to fight the light and see what this shimmering object was. She was closer now, coming nearer with every step. The desert winds began to kick up around her as the sun lowered, as they did every night. Janess reached her left hand up to her neck and clasped the necklace that warped tight around her throat. She closed her eyes and prayed for protection from the winds.
When she opened her eyes, she could barely see the shinning object. She looked back over her shoulder and saw the sands kicking up and dancing around the village, obscuring her view. She walked forward some more, and now was very close to the source of the reflection. She looked down at the sand, trying to find it. The winds continued to move the sands all around, making it harder for her to keep her eyes open for too long.
She fell onto her knees and began to feel through the soft sand. Her basket of bread was beginning to fill with sand as well. Krisha would not be pleased with Janess when she returned with sandy bread. But her curiosity was too great to ignore, so she continued her search.
“Katlinya.” The dark voice carried over the wind as Janess continued to search in the sands. She stopped and looked around to try and see the source of the voice. No one was insight, and the sands were getting worse. She clasped her necklace again and prayed another prayer.
It was growing dark quickly with the setting of the sun, and the start of the sand storm. She opened her eyes a little to try and see what she was doing, and suddenly saw something glowing yellow underneath the gathering sands. Her hands instinctively went for the object, dusting it off, and running her fingers along the smooth surface.
She pulled the object out, and saw that it was a perfect spherical stone. In the center of the stone was a writing of some kind, but she did not recognize the language. “Katlinya,” the voice said again as Janess’ world began to fade from around her. The sands disappeared, and a bright yellow light took her.
When she opened her eyes she was not in the desert wasteland she had been in before. All around her was a yellow fog, obscuring her vision. “Where am I?” she called into the mist. There had been rumors of technology that could move a person from one point to another instantly, but that was all said to have been destroyed during the great wars. Though it might have been possible that someone used a device of that sort to take her from her village to this strange new place, she conceded.
She saw a form approach her in the fog. It was a tall figure; a large cloak with a deep hood obscured its features. When the figure was standing right next to her she could still not see the face of the man or woman.
“Are you the next to hold the Sands of Time?” the deep voice asked Janess.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Janess said looking around to see if there was anyone else he could have been talking too. “What are the ‘Sands of Time’?”
His head tilted as he looked at her from behind his dark hood, his invisible eyes viewing her life. It felt as if he could see everything, what she has done, what she will do, and what her present is. “Yes, you are,” he said after looking her over. “I am Dokmal, the guardian of the Sands of Time.”
“What do you mean?” Janess was at a loss for words.
“You are the next holder of the stone of the Sands of Time, the first being the great and wise Bokal,” he said in a voice that made her tremble. “That, however, was thousands of years ago. The time is coming when the stones will be reunited. The second binding of the stones, and the deliverance of Maghora shall soon come.”
Janess tried to understand what he was saying. “I’ve never heard of Maghora, or Bokal. I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. Now if you don’t mind, would you please return me to my home.” An uncomfortable feeling swelled inside her, and she tried to protect herself by crossing her arms over her stomach.
The black hooded figure was silent as he gazed at her again. At last he spoke, “No, I am not mistaken, Katlinya. You are the next holder of the Sands of Time. You will accept your fate. Sooner or later, you will see what you have to do.”
“I don’t know who you think I am, but my name is not Katlinya. It is Janess. Now, please return me to where I was.” Janess had enough of whatever was happening to her. She almost regretted going into the desert and finding this stone.
“Very well,” Dokmal said. “When you return, await instruction from the holder of the Waters of Wisdom. He will know where to go and what to do.”
The yellow fog began to break away, and Janess found herself back in the desert with the violent winds and sand storms surrounding her. What was that? The stone in her hands was no longer glowing as it had been before. It seemed almost dead and dull compared to when she first found it. She turned around and began walking east through the harsh winds. She pulled up the hood of the cloak that she was wearing to protect her face from the winds and biting sand.
She still held the stone in her hand, though she did not know why she kept it. The thought of dropping the stone and leaving it in the desert did not settle right with her, she reasoned. As she neared the alleyways, the dilapidated walls of the outer buildings could now be seen slightly through the thick swirls of sand. She entered the small alleyway she had left from only a few moments before.
Within the alleyway there was a slight relief from the raging winds, but not much. She continued to move south towards the lake and her home. As she made her way through the maze of old buildings, she was suddenly, violently grabbed from behind. A hand came over her mouth, and she was pushed back against one of the weak walls. She could see her attacker. It was the man that had followed her out of the market place.
“If you scream, I’ll kill you,” he said with a smirk. “Good thing for me you decided to get lost in these alleyways.”
Janess squirmed under the man’s strong grip. The silver streaks in his hair began to run white with electricity as he held her. The current passed into Janess’ body, causing her to begin to generate electricity as well.
The sands danced around them, as the man continued to force himself upon her. One of his hands ripped off her cloak, and tore open her dress cleaving a slit from her shoulder to her waist leaving her breast uncovered. The man’s free hand began to grope at them with pleasure.
Janess struggled under his firm grip, her legs kicking uselessly. If he felt her attack he paid it no mind. She began to wish desperately that somehow she could be spared this humiliation. She was hoping for anything: for Krisha to come, for her Uncle, for anyone to see what was happening and actually care for her enough to try and stop it. She even hoped that nature itself would end this act. That somehow the sands could have enough force to impede the man.
That was when something strange happened. The sands around her became more violent without the help of the wind. They began to force themselves against the man, moving into his face and under his clothes. They did not, however, harm Janess in any way.
Noticing the strange activity as well, but unable to stop the sands, the man was pushed off Janess. As soon as he was off her, she pulled the torn cloth back up and over her nakedness. The man tried to run but the sand of the street came all around him and began to cover him. He began to scream a hideous unnatural scream as he tried to get away from the pursuing sands.
Janess was horrified. Her breath stopped as she stared on, and her heart began beating like mad. She was glad that he was off of her, but she did not understand what was happening. The sand began to fill the man’s mouth cutting off his voice and frantic screams. She looked down and saw the stone that she had been carrying. She had dropped it when the man tried to rape her. It was glowing brighter now; a bright yellow almost like the sun. She remembered the name of the stone: The Sands of Time.
Instead of seeking answers, she picked up the stone and her cloak and ran from the scene. She could not bear to look back and see him suffering. Tears began to stream down her face as she ran. What is this thing? She did not want to keep it, but she could not risk someone else finding it. What is it capable of? The streets were dark, but she knew the town well enough to make her way back to her home.
As she approached her door, she placed the stone in a pocket in her dress. She did not want her aunt and uncle to see it. She entered the house with tears still in her eyes. “Where have you been Janess?” Krisha asked her voice ripe with anger. It had been nearly an hour since she sent her niece out to get bread, a task that should have taken less than twenty minutes.
When she saw Janess with tears falling down her face, her anger quickly melted. “What happened?” she asked. Janess had hidden the rip in her dress by drawing her cloak tightly around herself.
Janess did not speak, but handed her aunt the basket of bread and then left the kitchen. She went into a small room that was made for her. She lied on her bed, which was nothing more than a piece of metal with some blankets over it, and a bundle of cloths for a pillow.
As she was weeping she could hear her aunt and uncle speaking in the kitchen. “No, Roku, don’t. You can tell she did not mean for it to take so long,” Krisha pleaded to her uncle Roku.
“Don’t try to defend her or I will beat you as well,” Roku threatened, his voice loud and clear through the walls. Janess knew what would soon come. She would be punished for her absence, for not returning home soon enough. “She did not even have the nerve to tell us what happened, why she was late. I will not let such a great act of disrespect go unpunished.”
Janess could hear her uncle’s footsteps thundering down the hall. He entered her room, holding a thin piece of wood in his right hand. “Get up,” he commanded.
She knew that she had to obey, even though she knew what would come next. If she did not stand, she would be beaten for longer. She stood up, tears staining the skin below her dark eyes. Her chin was quivering as she looked into the eyes of her uncle. He was much taller than she was, with a shaved head and sharply defined cheekbones. His nose was flat and wide and sat between the two pools of darkness that were his eyes. He stared back at her unfeelingly.
He raised the piece of wood and brought it down in a quick blow to her side. It knocked the breath out of her, and caused her to curl in pain. Another blow was delivered on the other side. Another blow on her back. Another blow on her legs. She fell to her knees.
She wanted to tell them what had happened, but she could not. If they knew a man had violated her, she would be disowned. No man would want to marry a spoiled woman. She would also have to explain how she got away, and the stone that she carried. Roku would then demand that she hand it over to him, and he would use it. He would use it to gain power in the village, and to conquer other villages. She could not let it happen.
Another blow was delivered across her left cheek. I will not cry out in pain she promised herself. That was the last blow, knocking her finally to the ground. The pain was so great. She wanted to die. She hated her life, her home. More tears began to fall as she wept on the floor of her room. Her tears mixed with the dirt and blood below her.
Roku walked out of her room, leaving her alone in darkness. She was not visited by Krisha that night, her uncle would not allow it. She was not given any food either. She had little food that day, but she was used to not having any. She had adapted to sleeping with a pain in her stomach. This night, however, the pain was too great to find any comfort in sleep.
She ached everywhere, especially in her heart. She did not know where she belonged. Her real mother had rejected her; her uncle had no love for her; her aunt could not show her love or else they would both be beaten. If she tried to run, she would be taken by another man, and used or killed.
That night she could think of only one thing that might be better than her life or death. It was the priesthood. They would accept her, but she would have to prove herself worthy. If she could gain compassion from one of the members, tell them the story of her life, then maybe they would take her in. She was one of the few members of her community that could read, after all, one of the requirements of being a priest or priestess.
She could wait no longer. She had to get away. She could not live like this anymore. She made up her mind. The next morning she would seek out one of the members of the priesthood, and try to join them. It would take several months until she became a member, but with the hope of being a priestess and gaining a fresh start, she knew she could withstand the wait. If they did not accept her, then there was just one last thing for her to do. She would kill herself if they did not accept her. She would end her useless existence. Maybe then she would at last be at peace.
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