Author's notes (there are a lot of them): I've decided that the fortress in the dream has to be of stone! You will understand further on when you read. If it's a wooden fortress it's easily burnt, and in war you don't give things like fortresses away just so easily, so it has to be made out of stone! So if you've just read chapter four, the wooden fortress is now a fortress of stone. Well, that said.
Second: I've lost votes. It's darn frustrating. I hate to lose votes. All of my stories have now lesser points than before. And the thing is that it's not that people are voting my stories down, I've actually lost voters. Can you believe this? If anyone knows what this is about, please tell me. And don't DON'T vote. I have approximately 700 readers per story, and about 15 voters each story. Don't be afraid to vote, it's good for me to know if you like it or not!
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Another adventure that Lex lured me into was when he was obsessed with taming a wild animal. I tried to persuade him into capturing a mouse or anything that is small and will not hurt anyone, but he had already made up his mind about it. He was going to catch a Lynx kitten.
I was afraid of cats. They hissed and spat at me whenever I was around one, and that time was no different. We had a bit of trouble finding the lair, but when we had found it we had no problem capturing a kitten.
The kitten cuddled in Alexander's arms, but when he gave it to me – oh, I was so afraid – it started making those mewling, crying sounds a kitten makes when it wants to its mommy. And the mommy came.
The only thing we managed to get that day was bad and deep scratches from the Lynx mother. When I came home my mother cleaned up the cuts. She had been worried about me all day, and she frowned at me when I came home.
"Why do you keep seeing him, Amram?" she said more than asked.
She never approved of my friendship with Alexander. I could see why. Sooner or later he would be king, and I would mean nothing to him. I would just be a happy memory, which he would never think of again.
"He will never see you."
He does not see me.
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When I left the sick-tent I was instantly spat on by an ugly man with a deep scar over his cheek. The drool slid down my own cheek, and I knew that it was not only saliva in the glob. I wiped off the spit, disgusted by the sight when it fell onto the ground.
Then I seemed to disappear in my mind. I watched at the guy's back, he walked away, and this strange and funny feeling in my chest seemed to expand. It felt... good. I had never felt it before... But then I knew that it would slowly kill him or me if I would not consume to it. It felt rather good, to be somewhere deep and dark – it was a twisted place in my mind. I loved that feeling.
The scarred man fell to the ground, clutching his chest over his heart. Strangled sounds came from his throat. I had everybody's attention by then. It was so quiet that you could hear a needle drop, and even more.
"Amram that is enough", a voice slipped through my haze of hate and a hand slapped my face.
The stinging pain on my cheek and lips brought me out of my trance. I had no idea how much time had passed, but the man that I had done something to seemed really relieved, and so did everybody else. I was now the one that worried.
"Deathbringer", I heard someone whisper. There was a low mumble in the crowd watching me. I think they were all afraid. And so was I.
Bea took hold of me and walked me out of the crowd. "Go to the Moonsisters..." she said very sternly. She seemed mad at me, I could tell from the frowning eyebrows and the twist of her lips. Was she afraid of me too?
"What..."
"Go now, Amram."
So I went... And I wept all the way.
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"That's her, over there! Can you see her? She almost killed a man by just looking at him..."
The gossip consumed everybody. And mainly I was the juiciest subject on the agenda. Over the next few days I walked and stumbled, tried not to look back. I was scared to look anybody in the eyes, afraid of seeing hate or – even worse – pity. And it seemed to me that, though I was the hottest topic to talk about, people avoided me.
The only ones who had talked with me were Goovar and Bea. I did not care so much about anyone else, but it would have been nice to make a friend closer to my own age. Bea was nice to me, but I feared that after the accident she had closed her mind from me. We rarely talked.
Goovar was a different matter. She seemed almost painfully too caring of me. I liked it... but I suspected she wanted something from me. She had more than once invited me to her tent at darker hours of the day, but I always nicely declined. I was not sure if what she wanted from me was something I was willing to give her, or any other woman.