Paper Waste

Unnedited from original post at FictionPress from September 2016.
yet another half-forgotten and unfinished story

The small tabby cat rushed through the open field as arrows flew in the air, landing at his right, left, just behind him biting his gold and silver tail, prompting the poor animal to dash even faster, fleeing from his hunters, a small group of kids who were old enough to know right from wrong but young enough to not suffer from their acts.

“He is going to escape!” Shouted the foremost and youngest of the four, dressed in fine and colourful summer clothes, and white trainers.

For a moment he stopped, letting his friends pass ahead of him, all carrying hunting bows and feathered arrows. He drew breath to calm himself and pulled one arrow, drawing it as far as he could and letting loose. Clumsy, the arrow hit the hat the only girl of the group, setting her hidden white hair free as the hat fell in to ground.

“Easy with that Hammal,” Said a boy besides her, with longer hair, tied in a braided ponytail. “Hey Amus, bet you a royal head you can't hit him from here.”

“Watch it” He said stopping to pull an arrow, he just needed to graze it and the cat wouldn't go further for the point was poisoned. His dark hair fell over his eyes but he didn't seem bothered by it. The cat was getting near to the woods line that marked his father lands. He drew breath and calmly let it out, releasing the string and letting the arrow fly.

Please with his skill, Amus watched the arrow fly fast over the field, lowering its arc towards the cat and hitting him in it's slim body as the animal was about to reach safety.

Hidden under the trees, a man watched the whole scene from the moment Hammal shot his friend's hat. He observed with sad eyes the desperate animal and the deadly arrow, he looked again at the cat's eye, meeting its pleading gaze, then he saw the woods ahead of him, a tall man, himself, standing still with closed eyes and safety past him.

For a moment Amus started to cheer, but then he saw the arrow stopping flat in the air as it hit the cat instead of piercing through the poor animal, falling in the ground as the cat disappeared.

“Ha! You lost it.”

“But I…” A strange man stepped out of the woods, bending to pick up the arrow, examining its point and turning it in his left hand. “Who are you and what business do you have at my father's land” Amus shouted the stranger, a foreigner by the looks of his pale skin, and a beggar, with stained and ragged travel robes. But it was his feet that caught Amus attention the most, for the man was barefoot. Not even beggar walked barefoot on those lands.

“I won't ask another time,” Amus shouted, drawing another arrow. “What business do you…”

“You have until three” The man said putting his long black hair away from his shoulder. As Amus cousin, he had his hair braided, but only half of it's length.

“Hey Amus,” Said the girl, her voice trembling, her frightened eyes looking for her brother support. “That is too”

“Shut up Isdris,” Amus hand was shaking as he silently begged the man to turn around.

“Two” The man proceeded, Isdris withdrew at fast pace, picking up her hair and following Hammal who was far ahead of her.

Amus couldn't hold his hand any longer.

“Duck you fool” He pleaded as he saw the arrow flying true towards the foreigner. His cousins running away, not wanting to be part of this murder. The man didn't moved, the arrow hit his chest and, as with the cat, fell harmless into the ground.

“Three” He said lifting his hand over the right shoulder and, in a wild arc, threw it against Amus as he tried to flee, dropping his hunting bow behind.

The arrow hit him in the right shoulder, piercing it with easy, causing Amus to scream from pain but he held himself from falling and continued to run.

Late in the afternoon and early in the evening were the worst possible time for one to visit the markets. The chaos born from merchants shutting down their stalls and shoppers desperate to secure an end of day discount translated into people pushing each other, shouts and curses were common and physical fights weren't unheard from the most avid customers.

Yet, among the frenzied mob, a man walked undisturbed by all that happened around him, barefoot.

“What those guards are thinking,” Comment a merchant to his last customer, more came to him but he refused to acknowledge them. “Letting these scum into the city.”

The man proceeded to walk, gather not much attention as one would draw with his old and battered travel cloak.

Not far from the scene, a pair of guards in silver uniform pushed people aside, not caring if they were noble shoppers or common workers. Behind them came a litter carried by four strong servicemen in similar but simpler robes. Some people turned to complain about the treatment received but soon bowed their heads when recognising the prince's sigil on the expensive silk curtains that enclosed the large vehicle.

The guards passed through the beggar unconcerned by him. He, in turn, seeing the road suddenly open, crossed it in front of the litter. Yet both continued as if neither were present, until the litter stopped.

The curtains were throw open with violence, almost ripping it out from its hangers. A young woman with shiny black hair and sun touched skin looked out.

“Judar,” She called. Some people daring a look of curiosity at the situation.

He looked at her for a while before replying. “Emy!”

“You haven't changed a bit,” She said extending him a hand, inviting him in.

“You you grew beautifully.” Judar said accepting her hand and lifting himself into the litter.

“Still refusing to wear boots or shoes of any kind I see” Emy commented when the crowded streets were long behind them.

“No point in trying,” He replied looking out into the streets. “I keep losing them.”

“You could at least wash your robes, or buy new ones,' she laughed knowing well what answer would come. “Or is pointless as they also will grow old and get dirt.”

Judar only smiled, turning his gaze out of the road into into her honey coloured eyes, then down into her neck. “I'm surprised you still have it.” He said picking up an old brass ring held in a silver chain.

“It is cracked though, must have just enough power to hold itself together, I couldn't risk using it, you weren't there to give me a new one any longer.”

“It has enough to protect you one more time.” Judar said dropping it and returning his gaze to her eyes, they were humid, as if about to cry. She blushed and he once more looked away into the city. “You've grow well,”

“Judar – Emy interrupted – How long has it being?”

“Fifteen years or so

“I though I wouldn't see you again, even when you promised that we would meet one last time before the end

“Does it mean my death is close?” Emy took hold of Judar's arm and burrowed her face on his dirt cloak.

“It will protect you one more time – he said patting her on the head – You've grow but is still the same, worry only about living.”

By the time they got to her residence, with Emy insisting on him staying in her house, her mood was cheerful and not a hint of tears could be found in her eyes. They entered the gates as she was telling him about her engagement with the third prince of Esdras, himself a respected merchant and apprentice, who dreamed to break away from his father trade empire and carve his own. The guards, however, greeted her with long faces and the household servants spoke between themselves in rushed tones.

“What happened?” She asked one of the guards. That was no one sick in the family, some accident might have happened.

“You should ask the Lady of the house my princess,” The guard replied. “All we know are rumours and gossips.”

Emy thanked him and continued into the house with Judar a step behind her, but the guards were quick in stopping him from going any further.

“He is with me – she replied the unspoken question – besides, if he wants to enter, you wouldn't be able to stop him.”

They didn't have to stop and ask any servant where the Lady might be, for moans of pain could be heard from the guests' quarters. There, she found the lady, in her usual blue and black dress together with the family healer, a man with advanced age but still with sharp mind.

“What happened,” She asked approaching the bed where her fiancé nephew lied in pain.

“We don't know for certain my princess – the healer answered – the boy was hurt with his own weapon.

“Was it poisoned?”

“Yes it was, but the detox failed, nothing I tried made any effect.”

“Judar – Emy called without turning to him – Can you heal him?”

“No more than your healer.” He answered as the old man eyed him coldly, seeming offended by Emy's suggestion that a barefoot beggar could do better work than him, a master in the arts of healing.

Emy sighted. “Can you leave us alone.” It wasn't a question, both the Lady and the healer left with no more than a look of protest. Judar approached the bed once they were gone.

“Judar – he asked again, her voice trembling – once you saved me, when I was half his age, from a fate worst than his

“Judar, can you heal him?”

He stood in silence for a moment, as if pondering her plead. “No, I cannot.”

“Was it you then?” Emy turned to him, her eyes wet but no hatred could be seen on them, no anger, only understanding.

“It was

“Why?”

“Because of a cat.”

She lowered her gaze and once more hid her face in his robes. “Will it work – she asked fiddling the ring – will it protect him as well?”

He looked at her once more. The ring, the last of many artefacts he had gifted her in her childhood, still had far more power than any artefact a human could produce. “Nothing that I say will stop you from trying.”

“I guess not,” Silence fell on the room and even the boy's moan seemed to fade as Judar left her.

“Will I see you one last time?” She asked to no one but herself.