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The Butterfly Sorceress, a serial novel

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JD:
Apparently I'm the only one who likes your story. Odd

Jimor:
Not many people have commented in either forum, but on the other one, the thread views have climbed steadily from 30-40 per part to 70-80, and here it seems to be starting around the same level of 30-50. So I'm satisfied. There are some scenes later that are more likely to induce some responses I think.

Jimor:
Oooh, I found the map I drew of this world years ago (long before the novel concept, I just used the map to plan things out since I liked it so much). I need to redraw it so it will scan properly, but look for this sometime soon.

Chapter 2, Part 1


"Bel?"

"Yes, mama?"  Belsira had been playing in her father's workshop, trying to make
a horse out of a spare bit of clay.  She stepped out of the door so her mother
could hear her better.  "What?"

Her mother was leaning out the kitchen window.  "Dinner's almost ready and your
father should be home any minute.  Could you go get Tamias?  He should be
playing out back with Jarem."

"All right," she called back, then went back into the shop to place her
half-finished horse on the bench.  She rinsed her hands in the tub of dipping
water her father used when working his pottery wheel, then dried them on some
spare rags.

As she crossed the field behind her house, she figured she knew where Tam was
with his puppy -- there was a giant old oak that he loved to climb whenever he
could get away from his lessons and chores.

Belsira instinctively looked around for her butterflies, but they were long gone
in this late summer heat, and the flowers were dull dry things ready to drop
their seeds into the yellowing grass.  There was nothing to use her talent on
out here.

It was only good for small things, though her teacher said it would come in
handy if she took up a craft like her father's pottery.  Talent was rare enough
that for awhile, she was given some extra attention, especially in a town as
small as Aberley.  However, since whenever she used her own emotions to power
the talent, she never felt as good afterward, and it was rude to use other
people's emotion without their permission, she didn't use it much anymore.

It did have its benefits, though, especially the aura.  She could spot an angry
red aura from father on the rare occasions when things weren't going so well in
his shop and make sure to stay out of his way.  She also knew that when old
Fostler at the market had a happy blue aura around him, he was likely to give
her a sweet.

After a short hike through the woods, she spotted Jarem dancing and barking
around the trunk of Tam's oak.  He was looking up into the tree's canopy and
whining, wondering just what in the world his boy was doing way up there.

Belsira followed his gaze and could just make out Tam's form way up into the
branches, almost hidden by the foliage and branches.

"You're gonna fall," she called up to her brother.

"No I'm not.  You're just jealous because you're too small to climb up here with
me."

"Am not, I'm almost eight!  I don't even want to climb your stupid old tree.
I'm just here to tell you to come in for dinner."

"All right, I'll be down in a minute."  Belsira could hear the rustle of leaves
as Tam worked his way down from his perch.

"Well, I'm not waiting," she called up to him.  "C'mon, Jarem, let's go home and
get something to eat."

Jarem looked from the tree to Belsira as she walked away and back again.  He
finally decided that at least he could reach Belsira and bounded after her.

"Hey!  Wait up," cried Tamias as he scrambled to get down.

As the puppy caught up to Belsira he danced happy little circles around her
feet, almost tripping her a couple of times, but she didn't mind and laughed at
his antics.

"We'll probably get home before he even hits the ground," she said as she
scratched behind his left ear.

She was nearly right.  She had been sitting on the bench outside the shop door
for a bit playing with Jarem before she saw Tam and his angry red aura appear
from the woods across the field.  He may be two years older than her, but he
could be such a baby sometimes.

As he neared, she could see a pretty nasty scrape on his right forearm, but
other than that ignored him while she petted Jarem nestled on her lap.

"I told you to wait," he snapped as he stepped onto the porch.

"Why should I?  You're not my boss."

Tamias didn't have an answer to that as he seethed, so he snatched the puppy out
of Belsira's lap, causing it to yelp in surprise.

Now she was mad.  She reached for Tam's anger and directed it into the puppy so
it would bite him, imagining sharper teeth for it at the same time.

The simultaneous cries from Tamias and Jarem startled all of them.  Tam dropped
the dog and grabbed the new gash on his arm.  He took only an instant to decide
what had happened, though, and he balled his hand into a fist a pulled back to
pound on Belsira.  "You!"

"No!" she screamed, but not in reaction to his fist, but to the immense red
flare of his anger.  She pulled her legs up close, lifted her arms to block his
blow, and sucked as much of the anger out of him as she could.

The blow never fell; the destructive energy of his anger never reached her.
Instead, they were both distracted by the piercing, anguished cry from Jarem.

They both looked down and gasped at the sight of the puppy writhing in agony as
its body was grotesquely deformed by the energy pouring into it through Belsira.

"Stop it!" cried Tam.  His fists were at his side but he wasn't making a move.
Through tears of anger and fear he cried again, "Stop it, Bel!  Please stop!"

Through her own tears she shook her head.  New waves of anger and now fear
poured through her like a torrent from Tam.  The only channel open for her to
expel it was into the puppy.  She tried to stop, wanted to stop with all of her
being, but she was no longer in control.

She could feel Tam's energy draining, but it was too late for poor Jarem, barely
recognizable now, limbs twisted and broken by the forces coursing through his
tiny body.  If only the screams would end.  Please stop the screaming she prayed.

Finally it did.  Tam had nothing left to provide to Belsira's talent.  He stood
frozen in position, fists still at his side, tears still streaming of their own
accord, but his aura was gone.  He stared blankly at Jarem, but he had no
emotional response left to react to the horror at his feet.

Belsira did, though.  Her own tears and whimpers mixed with the gurgling
struggles from the puppy-thing as she rocked on her heels on the bench.  What
had she done?  As much as she wanted to, she couldn't look away from the sack of
flesh that had been her brother's puppy.  What had she done?

She heard her mother scream, then rush over to grab Tam and pull him away.  Her
father ran from around the corner, then stopped in his tracks at the sight
before him.

"Jarl, take that monstrous... thing... away," her mother said as she pulled Tam
into the house.

Without saying a word, he went into his shop, and came out with his coal shovel.
Belsira half-expected him to come after her, but instead he grasped Jarem by
the scruff of the... she didn't know what anymore, and dragged it around the
corner.  Belsira heard two thuds, and the whimpering stopped, at least from it.

She hugged her knees and cried.  What did she do?  Why did this have to happen?

Her father silently walked past and into the house with her mother and brother.
Nobody came to answer her questions.  Nobody came to comfort her, to dry away
her tears.  Night fell and still nobody came for her.  Alone in the dark when
the moon rose and she had no more tears to shed, she finally snuck inside and
collapsed on her bed, still wondering... why?

Jimor:
Chapter 2, Part 2


As usual, Hylian had already risen and dressed by the time Belsira could drag
herself out of bed.  The chill water in the washbasin shocked her to life, but
she was still struggling with her bulky armor when Hylian slipped outside.

Bel tried to get comfortable in the armor, but she still had too many tender
spots on her.  When she shifted the leather and steel suit one way to relieve
one sore area, she'd just aggravate another.  She tried placing cloth pads to
cushion those places, but they quickly bunched up and increased the irritation.
The armorer was right, she'd have to just suffer with the pain until her skin
toughened enough to withstand the rubbing and chafing.

She emerged from their room into the still morning air, and even with the sun
barely above the horizon, she sensed a looming heat that would only get worse as
the day wore on.  She wandered through the camp heading for the officers' mess
hall for breakfast.

Once there, she waited in line for her meal -- a bowl of beef and potato stew
and a hard roll.  She wasn't used to such heavy fare to start the day, but after
her exertions yesterday, she knew her body would need the nourishment and energy.

She carried her meal over to the corner of the hall where Hylian sat, then
scooted into the place across from her.  Hylian was just scraping the remains of
her stew from the bowl with her last piece of roll.

"You seem to be in a hurry this morning."

Hyl glanced at her empty bowl.  "Oh, sorry, Bel.  I should've waited for you."

"That's all right, Hyl.  It's more that you seem distracted.  Anything I can
help with?"

"No, Bel dear.  I'm just feeling restless this morning.  I don't know why, but I
can't keep still for more than a moment."

"You?  I never thought I'd see the day!"

Hylian laughed.  "Neither did I, dear.  I thought these kinds of days were well
behind me.  But then, these are days when our expectations count for little."

The reminder of where they were and why quieted them both.  Belsira ate her stew
and contemplated the situation while she chewed.  Hylian took her leave without
a word and Bel knew enough to let her go -- anything that disturbed her mentor
this much had to be serious.  Bel just hoped there would be a way she could help.

She quickly finished her own breakfast, then headed for her place on the parade
grounds.

As she stood at attention with the rest of the Fourth Legion, each company
commander -- in her case, Portik -- counted the roll for his unit, then passed
that number up the chain of command.  After a bit of figuring at each step,
Kirtok's chief aide Loric presented the general with a slip of paper.

Kirtok took the sheet, stepped forward.  "Fourth Legion of Mardya, under the
command of General Kirtok in service to His Majesty, King Hartan, hereby reports
the presence of able-bodied troops in the number of six thousand two hundred and
thirty-six.  Company commanders, you may now dismiss your charges to attend
their duties to our Sovereign."

In perfect unison, the two hundred or so commanders shouted "Yes, Sir!" then
snapped around to face their soldiers grouped in precise blocks across the
grounds.  Belsira turned her attention to Portik as he called out, "Company,
dis-missed!"

She added her own small voice to the booming chorus of "Yes, Sir!" coming from
the entire legion, then she turned away on her left heel, snapped to attention,
her back to Portik now, then relaxed with the other soldiers as they strolled
off the parade ground.

As she walked toward her training area, she heard the thunder of Third Legion in
the distance as they echoed the same procedure, followed shortly by the same
from the undermanned Fifth Legion.

Belsira couldn't help feel the exhilaration coming from such a spectacle of
unity.  Never before had she been a part of something so large and important.

She arrived at the practice field ahead of the others in her guard.  Waited for
Portik and the rest to arrive, she took some practice swings with her short
sword, testing the feel of her armor today.  Not so bad except for the point of
her right shoulder which still hurt when she raised her arm.

When Portik and the guards arrived, he assigned drills to the men before coming
over to Belsira to instruct her.

"I see you're getting the feel for your sword now."

"I think so, Portik.  At least I'm not as clumsy as I was at first."

"That's a good sign.  Some of the men in the regular squads never do get the
hang of it, just using the sword as a club more than anything else.  That works
against an unskilled enemy, but not against a practiced swordsman."

"I don't think I would win in any case."

"One-on-one, no, probably not.  Fortunately, the goal here is to teach you
enough defensive skills to keep you alive until help can arrive.  That's
something I can teach you.  Your instinct will already be to block -- I'll show
you how to do that much more effectively."

Portik then ran through a series of attacks, showing Belsira the most effective
counter move, first taking each in slow motion, then slowly building the speed
and strength of his own thrusts.

He taught her how to deflect rather than absorb his blows, to use his strength
against him and force him off balance, to find the place to move where his next
attack would be less effective.  She found the techniques fascinating,
especially when she really was able to deflect and parry even his strongest swings.

Then he started using combinations, and Belsira knew that she had a lot still to
learn.

With them all in a drenching sweat, Portik called for a halt so they could drink
and rest.

As Belsira downed her third cup of water, she noticed a commotion on the other
side of camp.

"What's happening over there?"

Portik looked up.  "Hmmm, seems that the Third Legion is moving out today.
Thought they might, but I wasn't sure."

"They're leaving?  Surely it will take them time to get ready."

"No, they're moving out now.  See?  The wagons are already loaded and making for
the road.  Over there, the units are forming up to join them."

Belsira took off running for the barracks.

"Belsira, wait!  Where are you going?"  Portik called out behind her.

She ignored his orders to come back, though.  She had to find out where Hylian
was.  Did she know her legion was leaving so soon?

Panting and sweaty from her dash, Belsira burst into their room only to find
Hylian's possessions gone, her bunk stowed.  She bolted back outside and headed
for the paddock.

"I need a horse!" she shouted at the attendant.

"I need orders from Kirtok or Portik, Lady Belsira.  There's no riding scheduled
for today."

"No orders, but I need a horse, now!"

"Sorry, Lady..."

Belsira focused her anger, directed it at the fence rail the attendant was
sitting on, ripped out its cohesiveness.  The attendant crashed to the ground.

She opened the gate, ran to the stable, found a horse already saddled, and
hopped on.  She was back out of the gate before the stunned attendant could react.

Galloping down the main camp causeway, she ignored the open-mouthed stares of
the soldiers and officers.  Her only thought was to find Hylian.

The tail end of the Third Legion's column was just leaving the camp grounds when
she passed from between the buildings.  Belsira quickly caught up with the long
string of men and wagons making up the Third Legion.  She galloped her horse
along the side of the road, scanning the wagons for any sign of Hylian.  She
passed thousands of men and hundreds of supply wagons, panic rising within her
that she wouldn't be able to find her teacher, her mentor, her friend.

Not until the very front of the procession did she find Hylian, riding alongside
the driver on the front bench of the supply wagon.

"Hyl!  Hylian!  Wait!"

Hylian turned, her eyes wide with shock at Belsira's approach, but she signaled
the driver to stop.

Belsira rode up to the wagon, dismounted, tied her horse to the wagon's
tailgate, then jumped onto the bench beside Hylian.  The driver urged on his
horses so that they wouldn't hold up the rest of the column.

"What are you doing here, Bel?  Kirtok will have your hide for this stunt."

"I don't care.  I had to see you.  Why didn't you come to say goodbye?"

"I... I'm sorry, Bel.  This was a surprise to me too.  I thought it might be
easier if I just left."

"How would it be easier?  I would've died if I hadn't seen you again!"

Hylian fussed with her worry stone, kneading it roughly in her hands.  "I mean
easier for me, Bel.  I knew I'd lose control if I had to say goodbye to you, and
I've spent far too much of my life trying to prevent that from happening at all
costs."

"Oh."  Bel watched as her friend struggled to maintain the hold on her emotions,
breathing deeply, working her stone, clenching her fists.

"You're the best thing to ever happen in my life, Bel.  This war makes me so
angry that we can't continue to stay together in our little cabin, tend the
garden, walk the woods.  And I can't control the sorrow and sadness that comes
from the thought that I may never see you again."  Hylian leaned over, grasped
Belsira in a fierce hug.  Belsira could feel the quiet sobs of her friend.  All
she could do was hold Hylian with the same desperate force that she never wanted
to relinquish.

"I'm sorry, Hyl, I didn't know."

"That's because I hold too much inside me, dear.  I wanted to open up, but a
lifetime habit is hard to break for an old woman like myself.  And I am glad you
came.  I would have never forgiven myself for not allowing us to have this
moment.  Thank you."

Jimor:
Chapter 2, Part 3


Belsira came back to camp both happy and sad -- too distracted to notice much of
the men staring up at her along the way.  They knew who she was now, and all of
their auras were tinged with unease, even a bit of fear, no doubt because of
stories about people with wild talent.  She had heard some of the fireside tales
herself, all of them gross exaggerations of what could actually be done.  She
still had a hard time understanding exactly what she could do to help the legion.

No matter, help she would, and in whatever capacity she had, however limited.

First thing was first, though, she had to explain herself to Portik, and maybe
even Samiel or Kirtok.  Technically, she had rank over everybody in the Fourth
Legion except for Kirtok and his Adjutant, Loric, but she could hardly shove her
position around considering how very little military experience she had compared
to even the lowliest foot soldier.

Yep, there by the stable was Portik, Kirtok, and the very angry attendant.
Well, whatever they had to say or do to her, she could take it.  Seeing Hylian
before she left was worth whatever punishment they could deliver.

She drew up to them, and Kirtok gave her a stern look as she dismounted.  She
followed then general over to the side of the barn along with Portik.

"Young lady, just what did you think you were doing?" Kirtok asked.

"I was saying goodbye to Hylian.  I hadn't had a chance to see her off."

"And I suppose that if you decided not to help us fight Relath, you'd go
wandering off in the middle of the battle?"

"No, not at all!  This was just a small personal matter -- between me and Hylian."

Kirtok waved his hand in the direction of the training fields.  "And you don't
think all of these men also have personal matters they'd rather be tending to?
I suppose we should just let them attend to them as they choose, not care
whether they are getting the proper training that they'll need to stay alive
during the upcoming battles?"

"I didn't think it was that important.  I was just gone a little while, and now
I'm back.  Just tell me what's next in my training and I'll do it."

Just then the attendant approached, addressed Kirtok.  "Sir, the horse is lame.
He was brought in so I could take a look at him when she..."  He pointed his
chin at Belsira.

"Will he be all right?" she asked, concerned that she had hurt him.

"He'll have to be destroyed, Lady."

"Oh, no!  Poor thing, I didn't know!"

"Broken fore-leg now.  I may have been able to treat the previous injury before
your ride, but now... there's no hope."

Grief overwhelmed her.  "I'm so sorry."  She ran over to the horse, recognized
now the pain and fear in his eyes.  Her talent for detecting emotions didn't
work with animals, she had to rely solely on visual and physical clues.

Kirtok approached from behind as she rubbed the horse's nose.  "As terrible as
this is -- we need every horse possible in the coming campaign -- it does
present a unique training opportunity."  He turned to Portik.  "Can you provide
the necessary reservoir?"

Impassive as always, Portik answered with a simple, "yes, Sir."

"Very well.  Belsira, you will destroy this horse with your talent.  It will be
good practice for what you must do later."

"What?!"  She turned on him, shocked and appalled by his suggestion.  "I could
never harm a poor creature like that.  I'm sorry for what I did, but that's no
reason to do such a horrible thing!"

"As horrendous as it may seem, it's a common tactic in battle -- remove your
enemy's advantages.  One of the biggest is cavalry.  Usually, the opposing
talent is providing a shield, but if that cover ever falls, it is your duty to
destroy his horses as fast as you can."

"But... but I can't!"  She looked at the horse again.  Such a noble creature,
strong and proud.

"He has to be killed anyway."

Belsira wheeled on Kirtok, anger replacing shock.  "It is not the same thing!"

Even Portik flinched at that outburst, but he backed his commander.  "Still, it
must be done, Lady Belsira."

"No it doesn't!  Not by me, not by anybody."

She could easily detect the red anger of Kirtok as he answered.  "Yes, it will
be done, and it will be done by you, now!"

Belsira didn't dare tap his anger, that would just make things much worse if he
found out she was manipulating him.  But at the moment, her own anger was more
than enough to help her stand her ground.  "And just how are you going to make me?"

If the question gave him pause, he didn't show it.  "As we talked about before,
in the end, I really can't.  If you want to trade hundreds, if not thousands, of
those boys' lives," he pointed again to the training fields, "for one horse, you
are welcome to make that decision.  The enemy will not stop to consider your
feelings as they charge down upon those brave men and slaughter them on the
battlefield."

They locked gazes, but as Kirtok pressed his presence down upon her, she knew
that he was right.  But how could she bring herself to do this horrible, cruel
thing?  It was one thing to bring ruin and destruction down on inanimate
objects, to weaken spears, turn hard ground into soft, weaken armor, but turning
those destructive powers on a living creature?  She knew how terrible that could be.

Nevertheless, her will succumbed to the necessity.  There were thousands of
lives at stake, and not just those of the soldiers.  If she let those men down
and they died under the onslaught of the enemy, their families would be next as
Relath's forced ran unchecked throughout Mardya and elsewhere.

She turned away from Kirtok, faced the horse for the last time.  "I'm sorry,"
she whispered, hoping he'd understand.  Then she pulled all of her anger and
hatred for what Kirtok made her do, focused it within herself.

How would she do this deed?  How to make it as easy on the poor horse, and
herself, as possible?  She'd use his heart, stop the relentless beating that
drove this massive creature through life.  She reached out with her hand, and
her mind, and projected the force of her anger into the horse.  The poor thing
bolted and screamed in terror and pain and tears burst forth from Belsira as
sadness mixed with bitterness of her anger.  She tried to make it quick, but she
found herself wavering, her energy too weak to do the job properly.

Then Portik stepped in beside her, and like a lamp turned on in the night, he
burst forth with a radiant anger and hatred that nearly burned her with its
presence.  But it was what she needed.  She focused that power into the horse,
forced herself to ignore the screaming and spasms of its body as she tore his
heart to shreds in his chest.

Other horses in the stable and paddock added their terrified voices to the
chorus, and at first, she was afraid that she was leaking this destruction onto
them as well.  But no, theirs was just an empathic reaction to the distress of
one of their own.  Belsira could feel that it would take every bit of her and
Portik's energy to complete this task.  Life fought for life, and this noble
stallion would not go easily to his demise.

She pulled the last threads of her strength together to finish this, the horse
was suffering too much at her clumsiness.  With a last concentration, a cry that
leapt forth from her soul and her lips, she crushed his heart and he dropped
dead on the ground with a thud.

She could only stare at the carcass lying on the ground.  She had no emotion
left to mourn his death.  Portik beside her was as passive and emotionless as
ever -- not a trace of aura -- whether because she had drained him dry as
herself, or because he had turned himself off as he had turned himself on, she
couldn't tell.

Belsira turned to Kirtok.  "I'm going back to my room."  Not a question, nor a
demand, just a statement.

He nodded his assent, but said nothing.

She walked through the camp in a daze.  She had never drawn her emotions this
low before.  Every action and reaction was pure intellect, without a trace of
feeling.  When she found her way back and closed the door behind her, she
stripped her armor and sweat-drenched clothes off automatically, pulled her
nightshirt down over her head, and pulled back the covers of her bed.  It wasn't
even dinnertime yet, but she knew it was sleep, not food that would restore her
now.  As she adjusted her pillow to get comfortable, she found a slip of paper
underneath.


  Bel,

  I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye, but I'm hoping it will be easier this way.

  It's not that I didn't want to tell you in person that I was leaving, just that
  I don't think I could've left knowing it may be the last time I ever saw you.
  However, our duties are bigger than our humble wants and needs.  Don't forget
  how important you and your talent are to the people of Mardya and beyond -- you
  and I hold powers that may turn back the forces of tyranny.  It may have never
  seemed that way while we were tending our garden, but it's always been true.
  That potential is the very reason you were sent to me for teaching, and why I
  have always emphasized control.

  The time for control has passed, though, you must now find all of the potential
  within you.  I don't know what your limits are, but I am sure that they are
  potentially greater than my own.

  But that's not why I'm writing this note.  Bel, you're more important to me than
  all of the kingdoms combined.  If I would have seen you again, I probably would
  have taken you away from everything so that we could go home again, forget that
  the outside world even existed.  You are the only family I've had in years,
  you're the daughter I never had, the granddaughter I never will have.  I may
  have seemed like a stern taskmaster at times, but believe me, I've never been
  happier in my life.  I only pray that you have been as happy with me.

  I could tear this whole camp down with the sadness within me now.  But I won't.
  We both have jobs to do, and I'm immeasurably proud of the young woman you have
  become, so I know you'll take your lessons with Samiel as seriously as you have
  with me.  In the days before you leave, listen carefully to him -- he has much
  to teach you.  He may seem gruff, but he truly does care about all of the people
  in his trust.  Try to remember the vast responsibilities he has under these
  circumstances, and you may understand his methods.

  I do not know Kirtok except through what I have heard and observed in these last
  few days.  He appears to be honorable and competent.  Do your best for him and
  I'm sure you'll have no problems.

  Finally, Bel, do take care of yourself.  I know fate is beyond either of our
  control, but I want you to come back home with me.  Nothing would please this
  old woman more than to see you again strolling through the woods behind our cabin.
 
  Be safe.

                        Love, Hylian


Belsira folded the note, buried it deep within her pack.  As much as she may
have wished, she just didn't have the energy to give to her sadness, nor even to
the regret of that fact.

She simply climbed into bed and fell asleep.

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