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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1767331-Gathea-CH1
Rated: E · Novel · Fantasy · #1767331
A young girl from a far off world finds herself in an adventure she never dreamed of.
This is just a draft of a possible first chapter. I'm fairly new to trying my hand at writing and I would greatly appreciate any type of review. Thanks in advance!


Prologue

I sprinted as fast as I could, my breaths quick and uneven. In their panic my friends had forgotten my limitations; I would never match their speeds.

Death was moments away and I would face it alone.

The thought of it all ending like this filled me with dread, and I clenched my fists tight as I waited for some sign of attack.  I knew nothing of fighting but I wasn’t going down like some helpless child.

Tall grasses slapped against my thighs, the wind filled my hair, and the steady rhythm of hooves against earth muted all but the frantic pounding of my heart.

Defying all explanation, I was having no trouble keeping pace.




Gathea


ChAPTER ONE

Jonathan Guyers. 

Like him?  He was acceptable at times.  But love him? No. He was never the object of my affection and nor would he ever be. Regardless of the way I felt about him I was meant to be his bride.  I cringed at the thought; this was something I could not face without a fight.

“But I don’t love him Papa!” I had shouted heatedly when my father learned of Jonathan’s proposal.

“Castlyn!”  His face flushed and his years showing in high color.  Pursing my lips I held my arms tight across my chest and prepared for the worse knowing he only reserved my full name for the times his anger reached past mere frustration.  “Can’t you see how foolish you are?  Don’t you know what an opportunity this is for you, what this could mean for our family?  Must you always be so difficult?  For years your mother and I have put up with your insolence and stubbornness because you were a child.  You’re not a babe anymore, leave your fantasies and grow up.”

His words were harsh, cutting into my pride as I tried to keep a brave face.

  “Everything has already been settled.  You will marry him.”  He proclaimed with the full authority a father has over his sixteen year old daughter.

He sank into his weathered chair by the hearth and watched for the effect of his words. Then in a whisper, “It’s for the best Cassie.”
I held back the angry tears that fought to break my stone cold expression and fled the room. I knew he truly thought what he was forcing would be good for me.  We had never been well off. My father was a carpenter by trade, an honest and hard working man, he kept food on the table but we were far from living a life of luxury. 

James and Marilyn Henson had been unfortunate in the fact that they had never been blessed with any sons, only one lowly daughter.  No good for helping a father with the family trade, nor even any good for passing on the Henson name.  Their hopes rested on marring me off early and to a wealthy man.

Jonathan Guyers.  Nearly twice my age and ten times my social status.  The perfect candidate as my parents saw him.  They had long hoped he would take interest in me and they were not to be disappointed.

Mother says it’s the contrast between my fair skin and unusually deep red hair that catches men’s fancy.  All my life I’ve hated how I look different, though mother always insists as she tugged away at my unruly locks with an unwilling comb that it’s a blessing not a curse. She may think it’s a wonderful quality, but as for me I would rather blend in with the background.  Men only saw me as a rarity, just another prize to be won and showcased.  The very thought sickened me.

My affect on Jonathan was no different.  He courted me for several weeks and at first I was hopeful.  Here was a dignified and educated man, surely he wouldn’t be as shallow and dull as the eager suitors I had already encountered. 
I was quickly disappointed.  He was even more so than most.

I cannot speak too ill of him though.  He was ever polite and eager to offer me anything his wealth would allow, which was quite possibly more than my heart would ever dare desire.  Still, the connection he and I had was not one of love, and without love I wanted nothing to do with it.

I didn’t want what mama and papa desired for me.  Wealth doesn’t mean much if it means giving up everything else you have ever wanted from life.  It’s nice to have luxurious items and to live without struggle, but to me there are far more things higher up on the importance scale.  All I wanted was to be happy, and the thought of a life filled with never ending days of Jonathan made me miserable.
The memory of his visit this morning was still so vivid in my mind, replaying itself endlessly in my thoughts.

***

          It was an uncommonly warm day for the beginning of spring and I found myself in such a good mood that I was practically skipping on the wagon worn road leading back from market.  Today along with the flour, eggs, and other necessities, I carried a special surprise for my family.  I had in my arms a burlap bag of freshly picked red apples that looked so tempting that I was considering sneaking one on the way home.  Usually Papa is against spending our money on anything he didn’t specifically ask me to purchase, but round faced farm boy had offered to sell them to me for half price, and who was I to resist such an offer on my favorite treat?  As I opened the bag and peeked at the small glistening red orbs I couldn’t help but smile, if Papa scolded me it would be well worth it.           
When I arrived home the old wooden door swung open before I could even knock and my father stood there with an unusually wide grin stretched upon his wrinkled face.  Perhaps I wouldn’t get scolded after all.

            As I was ushered into the sitting room I could hear mother and Jonathan engaged in some sort of discussion but they quieted as soon as I passed the threshold.  Mother was smiling warmly, dimples sticking out on her thin face, looking nearly as pleased as Papa.  And Jonathan…well, Jonathan was staring at me as was normal for him.  I still was uncomfortable with the way he looked at me, and I shifted my weight around awkwardly, to avoid his gaze. 

“Hello Castlyn,” he uttered with perfect diction.

“Hello,” I mumbled while setting my bags down on the table.  Jonathan was always so prim and proper, so…unnatural.  It drove me crazy at times and I wished he wouldn’t take every little matter so seriously.  I pulled out the chair furthest from him and slumped against the table, exhausted from carrying the markets goods.  Papa coughed and gave me a look so I sat up and feigned interest in our visitor. 

“Would you like to accompany me on a walk?”

“Sure,” I sighed looking at apples longingly, but I figured they would still be there when I returned.  Besides it was a lovely day outside and I doubted I had the option to refuse.

Papa scrambled out of the doorway practically tripping over himself in an effort to make room for us.  It was normal for him to act thrilled whenever Jonathan stopped for a visit, but he was way overdoing it this time.

To be fair Jonathan was a pleasant person to walk with.  He never bothered me with trivial questions on how my day was or attempted to make small talk about the weather.  Actually he never said much of anything, which I didn’t mind; it was nice to just relax and listen to myself think.

Jonathan Guyers was tall and lean.  Clean-shaven with light brown hair and eyes to match, all together he was not too disagreeable to look at.  He was the talk of all the young ladies in the village but I never understood what they found so remarkable.  He was nice, but plain, and not to mention terribly unexciting.

         We walked in silence, both lost in our own thought.

Hildridge was a small and insignificant village of Gathaea, simple yet beautiful.  Jonathan would ride miles from the bordering town, Kalane, for his visits and we would often spend the time out enjoying the scenery.  The recent rain had the foliage alive with a gorgeous crisp green and the rolling hills were dotted with bright patches of every color.  The scent of the wildflowers in bloom permeated the gentle breeze, and the sound of songbirds returned from their winter leave could be heard faintly as they sang in the far off trees.

  I eyed my companion and noticed he was once again staring at me.  I bent to pick one of the small flowers we happened to be walking past.  It was the tiny lilac type, one of my favorites.  So delicate with its detailed little petals, it was stunning.  Beautiful by itself yet if it were to be placed back with the others it could belong in the group, a small part of the wild bouquet.  It wouldn’t stick out, separated by-

“Marilyn tells me you are quite proficient in gardening,” Jonathan said bringing me back to reality.  I frowned automatically.  The little patch of dirt where I was attempting to grow a few seeds I had collected could hardly be called a garden.  Though it was true some of the weeds had begun to flourish nicely.

Either he didn’t notice or he ignored my negative reaction to his statement because he smiled and continued speaking.  “I’m starting a large garden on my property in Kalane.”

Two whole sentences, the man was on a role.  Why was he telling me this though?  He was never one to start a conversation.

“I was wondering if you would be interested in taking care of it for me?”

Help him with his garden in Kalane?  What was he getting at?  “I appreciate the offer but I doubt I would be able to visit frequently enough to do any good.”

He blinked twice and slowed his pace to a crawl.  “I wasn’t talking about visiting.  I want you to live with me.  I want you to be my wife.”

I froze mid stride and spun around to face him, my mouth wide open in shock.  Jonathan had been seeing me for quite some time yet somehow I never imagined this moment would come.  I was still so young, I only knew of one other girl who was already getting married and she was a year and a half older than I.  And to Jonathan?  A lifetime trapped in his picture perfect estate where I would be shown around at parties and displayed in the windows like some little trinket he picked up on his travels.  An eternity of Jonathan’s silence and distance.  Or worse a lifetime spent under the watch of those eyes and the hungry way he sometimes looked at me.  I shivered; spending the rest of my days like that would drive me insane.

I couldn’t do it.  My head was spinning and I felt like I was about to be sick, but I didn’t have the chance to say anything before Jonathan was down on one knee taking out a golden ring from his side pocket.

“Marry me Castlyn Henson.”

Full blown panic kicked in.  I knew what my family wanted; I knew this had probably been their plan.  They must have known what was coming before I even arrived home today, no wonder they were in such a good mood.  I should have caught on.  One little utterance of the phrase “I do” would have them set them for a life of luxury. 

I loved mother and Papa so very much but I couldn’t do it.  I wouldn’t condemn myself to a life of misery and boredom.  I didn’t love him and I never would.  If I said yes to his offer I knew I would spend each day wishing it was my last.  Maybe I was being stupid and over dramatic but I didn’t care.  My body had begun to shake. I couldn’t do it. 

“I, I can’t.”  . My eyes started to water.  I was betraying my parents, they had given me so much and this is all they wanted in return and I wasn’t going to do it.  Would they ever forgive me for taking away their one chance at a better life?

Jonathan’s face was ice.  “Why not?” he said harshly with an undertone I wasn’t used to.

“I just can’t.”  The tears came as I backed up the path almost tripping over myself trying to move away from him.

Now he looked furious, I had never seen him like this before.  “No one refuses the Guyers, especially not some Carpenter’s daughter,” he sneered, “it would be wise of you to reconsider.”

I was running now, the tears leaving salty streaks on my face, all I wanted was to be far away from his cold piercing gaze.  I ran all the way to the outskirts of the forest, to a tree I used to play on in the years of my childhood.  Climbing up the familiar branches once more, I leaned against the rough tree bark and sobbed.

***
© Copyright 2011 Eve Orchard (eveorchard at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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