Stolen Hearts; Chapter One

"When it comes to the future, there are three kinds of people: those who let it happen, those who make it happen, and those who wonder what happened."
- John M. Richardson, Jr.

"Regina, my lord wishes to see you urgently,"

Cala stopped brushing her light brown hair and let it fall around her shoulders. Regina- princess, she had no blood claim to the word but then, there was no royalty in Mebenna, just people, granted some with more say than others. She stood up and looked herself up and down in the mirror. She was fourteen now and she had grown quite a lot in the past few months; she was easily above five foot now. Her legs were fine and slender, her feet were petite for her age and her waist was adolescent. She had a slim tummy and a well-designed physique. Her neck held her head with poise and pride. Her eyebrows were plucked thin to show her deep cerulean eyes. Her mouth was petite and pale pink against her, fading, tanned skin. She wore a plain pallid cotton shirt torn off around the bottom rims; a pair of vertically striped shorts loosely fitted; a worn sheath containing a most ferocious looking sword made of exceptional craftsmanship. The handle itself was stunning, scorching silver with ridges for grip and a large diamond at the base of the blade to gorge your eyes on. Engraved below the diamond were the words ‘Alis volat propiis’, she flies with her own wings. Polished metal curled out of the top of the handled and curved gracefully down to the bottom to protect the users hand in battle.

If she were to withdraw the blade it would be cultured to perfection, as the light glides over it you would be able to make out the thin and precise engravings along the blades surface. The further out you withdrew it you would see one side widening the blades surface while the other continued straight until each side was two inches apart, there they would start to retreat back to each other to meet at the point, but at a slightly faster rate. The edges of the sword would be lighter than the blades surface for they are made of diamonds, filed to the sharpest point, it would cut through bone like butter. Strapped to her back were sheaths for two large daggers so that she had only to reach over her shoulders to fling the life ending tools. They were not made so delicately as the sword but they matched well enough for anyone to know whose they were.

Cala supposed she looked ok and turned round to find a small runt of a boy stood in her doorway, no older than seven. She didn’t know who he was, it didn’t matter. Cala frowned, irritated, had he been staring at her? What’s more, she was in a small tent with only one entrance and exit and he was blocking it. The tent had one undersized camp bed, a dresser with a mirror, one cupboard and a washbasin. It had no carpet and only one photo hanging up on the wall; it was of a lady wearing a silver necklace with a red claw or tooth attached to it. Cala didn’t like it that much.

"Fine, go tell Xandu that I'm coming," Cala, said through gritted teeth. The boy shuddered as she had said Xandu’s name and it annoyed Cala even more. It was only a name! It just showed how much of a reputation one can get in such a short period of time, seven years almost in total. The boy nodded and ran from the tent. Cala followed at her own pace. She stepped out into the cool evening night. The stars hung up above the thousands of trees and tents, as they glowed like miniature fireflies. The grass was damp with tiny dewdrops; it tickled Cala’s ankles as she walked out of her tent. Thin strips of smoke rose up from the fires near the tents and mingled into the night sky. Cala sighed, this night was beautiful, and it was going to be ruined. She knew exactly what Xandu was going to tell her.

"Good evening miss Hunt,"

It was Donna. She was one of the army uniform tailors but she occasionally designed more specialized outfits. She had long dark brunette, straight hair and sunburnt eyes. Her skin was smooth and tanned. She was slim and quite tall. Cala had never asked her age but she guessed around thirty. She was a mother also, although Cala had never seen her child, or children; she knew not how many children Donna had either.

"Evening, Donna. Is the camp out on tonight?"

"Yes, like always," She looked up from her work. She had known Cala a long time and her voice had just seemed to have an air of languor in it. "Xandu want a chat?"

"Yes. Again,"

"Keep out of trouble Cala and I’ll see you at the camp out," Donna said sternly. She had become a sort of older sister to Cala over the years, possibly even a mother. Cala had been with the Black tribes for over eleven years. Ever since she was a child, the Black’s had raised her; she was an orphan, ever since she reached the age of one.

The world was split in two, divided between Black’s and White’s. Cala did not know the whole story to why the two nations fought but she did know a lot more than most. Over her years growing up amongst the Black tribes, Cala had seen no difference between the two nations. They both had girls and boys, they both had multiple races in their nations, and they both had a group of leaders and an army. But Cala knew the reason why they had started the war now, and she hated both sides for it. They were all in the wrong. She still felt loyal to the Black nation but no longer held resentment for the White nation so much. This was the problem as technically she was their ‘Princess of War’, a qualified slayer and the best. If the White nation ever got their hands on her Cala wouldn’t be surprised if they hung her, even if she was underage. Again, it’s surprising the reputation one can get in such a short space of time and although Cala will probably never defend her actions, for she had her reasons, these things were necessary in her position. It was all or nothing, the best or the lowest, life or death. Plus, she had been angry, yes, very angry.

"Bye, Donna," Cala said solemnly.

Donna gave Cala a peculiar look before nodding her head to end the conversation and watched as Cala made her way off into the shadows shrouding the camp. Donna had a feeling then, that she wasn’t coming back. She half-hoped Cala would look back at her so that she could see her again.

Who am I kidding? Donna thought with a hint of bitterness and almost grief as Cala faded into the distance, the ‘War Princess’ never looks back.

She sighed, and set about her work again, she had two new uniforms to make by dawn and it was going to be tough to get them finished in time.

*

Cala walked up to the shady daunting figure in front of her and bowed her head in respect, but only for the briefest of seconds. She was in a very small brick building that had only one room, which she was now inside. It was dark; the only light emitted was from a few gangling candles placed here and there around the room. The floor was smooth and made of planks of wood placed down to make a swirling pattern on the ground. The only object in the room, apart from the candles, was a stone chair carved plainly. In front of her stood the leader of the whole Black nation, he was the man who was slowly bringing the White nation to their knees. Vituperative, callous, draconian and a terrible spitfire at that, Cala never dared to look him in the eye anymore, nobody does but not for the same reason.

His face was well featured and defined with high cheekbones and thin lips just waiting to be curled into a snarl at any point, tinged grey like his skin, which showed many small scars. His eyes, Cala needn’t look at to remember, were intense emerald lizard-like things. His body, hidden underneath a long draping black robe, looked large and strong but underneath Cala remembered the frail skeleton holding together his existence. However, he is agile and wise, confident and keen; he is and always will be a very strong leader.

"Cala, what has happened to you? Look at you. You are not the warrior I raised," Xandu's voice was calm but all the more frightful.

"Look at me?" Cala scowled, steadily raising her voice. She was going to have to get very bad tempered otherwise Xandu would never listen. "How can I look at myself and compare what I was in the past to what I am now, especially when you seem to do it for me constantly? Besides it wasn’t even you who raised me!"

"You are becoming stubborn, arrogant, restless and ever more tiresome to handle Cala. You are the ‘princess of war’, a title-,"

"-I never asked for!" She cut him off, already exasperated at his incompetence over her matter. Of all the people in his nation Cala was the only one who would ever dare argue with him. She liked being able to make her point and shout back when he was unfair or too ruthless but sometimes she had a small will for him to be able to control her more absolutely. She was not a tractable or pliable person. If he had, she would never have fallen soft for the White Nation, she wouldn’t be stood before him now, the White Nation would have crumbled a long time ago and he would undoubtedly be an unchallenged leader. However the past always gets in the way.

"Cala this is not about your titles,"

"Then what is it? You just want to argue with someone or maybe you get enjoyment over forcing me to do stuff I don’t want to do!"

"Like Shiyan? What happened then Cala? I gave you a direct assignment and you did something else!" He started to raise his voice back, his eyes boring holes into hers.

"Nothing happened," Cala’s voice went flat and the fight left her as she broke eye contact. This was not a subject she wanted to discus, least of all with Xandu.

"Cala, we lost ten warriors at Shiyan because of you! In addition, you are telling me nothing happened. Why didn’t you follow orders?" Xandu said desperate to understand her.

"Nothing," She said flatly again refusing to speak. Xandu sat down on his seat and looked scathingly at Cala. He tried to reach out with his mind and probe into hers but all he met was steadfast solid doors chained, bolted and padlocked against intruders inside her mind and a stabbing glare from Cala.

"Don’t you remember?" Xandu taunted sarcastically. He wasn’t going to bother trying to understand her anymore. It was a fool’s chore.

"No," her voice wavered slightly.

"Well maybe I should remind you?"

"No!" Cala said louder but she knew he was going to say it anyway.

"You burned down and murdered ten of the best Black warriors!" Xandu was yelling now. Cala fell to her knees as the images came flooding in of that night, thatched houses at the bottom of a narrow valley, burning. Families fleeing into the night, away from their homes and shattered lives, then the outline of ten men in the distance, running away and a flash of brilliant cobalt luminosity. "And for what?" he continued.

"No, no I didn’t murder!" she growled fires smoldering in the pits of her soul.

Xandu ignored her cries and went on. "For what Cala, to save a village of White’s?"

"They were, innocent!" Cala spat darkly, the only way she was getting out of this without giving in, and that was something she was just not prepared to do, was to get angry but Xandu beat her too it.

"Do I look like I care? They were White!" Xandu was way past yelling, he was infuriated "Traitor! GET OUT!" he snarled.

Cala was so shocked at being called a traitor to the Black’s, she was at a loss for words, but she didn’t get out, she didn’t move so much as an eyelash. She just glared, Cala had been one of the highest ranking in the Black nation for over six years, she wasn’t about to leave so easily. Xandu was cooling himself down. Nothing ever went right between them now, never. At that moment Cala knew for definite, it had been a protracted suspicion for a while now, that this time she had pushed him too far. She wasn’t angry at herself, for she had misbehaved wittingly and with that thought she almost smiled. It was time she found answers and it was palpable to her that she wouldn’t find them here.

"The White’s are paying us one hundred million for you, our armies need the funding. You are going to go to a White boarding school. Maybe that will give you a chance to think-"

"Think what, about what I have done? Look in the mirror Xandu. I am not a child anymore... Neither are you," Cala laughed a short, hollow laugh that echoed sharply of the walls of the undersized room, and turned away. "Was it worth it?" she sneered acrimoniously.

"Good-bye. Miss Hunt," Xandu spat through gritted teeth.

"You know they’ll hang me don’t you?" Cala said, gently this time and walked away closing the great wooden door behind her. As her footsteps echoed off into the distance silence seeped back into the room, like tar suffocating a fish to its dawdling death.

Xandu walked around the room slowly and lifted his head towards the stars, searching for that much needed oxygen. Trying to clear his senses and figure out exactly what he had done. There was no roof on the building and the night was clear. The stars were bright tonight. She would not be hung, not till she was sixteen and by that time she would have more to fear than a hangman’s noose. He walked out of the back door of his room and stepped out onto the bank of a beautiful lake. The thin wispy winter grass brushed limply at the trails of his cloak as he walked gently down towards the waters edge. The moon was nowhere in sight so the lake looked dark and murky. Xandu dared a glance down at himself, his aged face and whispered to himself reassuringly "I had no choice. She would have done the same in my position,"

He longed to say his true reason to Cala’s face but he knew that if he did Cala would find a way to shatter his belief in it, leaving him with no explanation for what he did. So he kept the reason too himself in the hope that she would cause him no more pain.

She will not!

The shrill words pierced through his mind and echoed dully around his thoughts. He realized then that he was getting too poignant. He had a job to do and he was going to see it through with the same calm proficient meticulousness as usual. Two miles away twenty or so Whites will be stood huddled in an immense thicket of foliage on the other side of the lake waiting intolerantly for him to deliver Cala to them. Cala will be in her tent and as he was thinking a group of NEX will be wrestling her into chains and binding her resolutely with spells. If all went as planed he would meet Cala and the NEX in a secluded area just near where the Whites were in two minutes. Xandu gathered himself up and called the boy he had summoned to get Cala. He told him to get the Omega soldiers to grab Cala's horse and chain it until he gave the word it was safe to free it. Xandu felt it had a certain irony as Cala had hand picked and trained the Omega soldiers herself; unfortunately no doubt the horse would be more trouble than Cala to capture. The being was a bravura creature but definitely not one to cross paths with on a dismal day.

Xandu took one last look at his reflection before sending an almighty shock wave through the lake and turning away "What happened to her," he muttered.
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Sorry it's so long. Any feedback bad or good would be amazing. Thank you.