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Bound Round part 1

I think when I am done with this I will change the POV to third person - I don't make a convincing 12 year old girl - I didn't even when I was a 12 year old girl.  Hopefuly I will have this one done by Thanksgiving...


My name is Tegue Timms and I live with my family on a farm about twenty miles outside of Bathory City.  It’s a quiet life.  Or it was.  Last week was our birthday; my twin William and I turned twelve.  Last year on our birthday our Father died.  I’m surprised I can say that so calmly.  We knew it was coming, but that doesn’t, or shouldn’t, make it easier.  It’s weird how it still doesn’t seem real to me; I still think he’ll be walking around the corner.  I don’t know how William, my twin, or Ryes, our older brother, feel about Father’s death.  We don’t talk about it.  To talk about it would make it too real. 

“You were always his favorite,” William’s voice comes out of the dark from the bed next to mine.  At twelve we still share a room. 

“And you are mother’s,” this is true, since our magical abilities first started to manifest each of our parents took one of us under a wing, to teach us.  Before we were old enough to go to school, to be taught at the school in the city.  With others like us; Magic Users, well Magic Users and people who should be.  People like Ryes, who should have Magic but don’t. I’ve always felt bad about Ryes, he should have been one of the strongest magic users in the area, but has never shown any sign of it.  Ryes was good with the animals, but was never troubled with the sounds of their minds in his head, nor can he see the future, make plants grow or anything else.  No power that has ever run in our family seems to run in Ryes blood, but he is strong and steady and he is the one who keeps things running. He’s the one who made the funeral arrangements; he’s the one watching over Mother.   

“And Ryes is my Father’s favorite,” from behind William comes the voice of Gawain Bright the son of the farm’s hired man.  Mr. Bright calls us the Three Musketeers completely inseparable.

“You are,” William argues with our friend. 

“I don’t think so,” Gawain says, I hear a thump as William hits Gawain with a pillow.  Then giggling as the two start fighting.    


“William is gone!” Gawain is shaking me.  I open an eye, it’s not even light yet. 

“I’m sure he’s just outside somewhere.”

“No, he’s not anywhere,” I don’t question him, the panic in Gawain’s voice lets me know that William isn’t anywhere that Gawain can find.  And Gawain can find William anywhere. 

“Did you tell Mum?” I ask rolling over and pulling the blankets over my head.

“She isn’t here either.”

“Well then they are somewhere together.”

“Of course, but it’s somewhere bad.  I can tell.”

“Fine,” I get up and dress quickly, “You look around the house and I’ll go talk to Ryes.”

I walk down to the barn, knowing that searching a house that was designed to hold four families should take Gawain awhile.  And by the time he gets done I hope that Ryes will have given me the answer to where Mum and William are.  After all Ryes usually has the answers, I’m sure he will this time as well.  I find Ryes in the dairy barn, the click and hum of the machinery is almost deafening, he has his baseball hat pulled down over his eyes. Five years older than William and I Ryes has become increasingly more responsible for the day to day operations of the farm.  He looks like he could be sleeping.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people, Teg,” he says without opining his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping in the milking parlor.”

“I wasn’t, I was listening,” he says tipping his hat back. 

“You couldn’t hear anything.  You go through life half deaf and blind,” I know that it is cruel to mock him that way, but I can’t help it, he keeps trying to be something he isn’t. 

“I can hear all sorts of things Teg,” he says turning to a cow whose machine has stopped milking.  His hands move over the cow’s udder, just like Father’s or Mr. Bright.  When he is done he walks back to me, “Just because I’m not Magic doesn’t mean I’m deaf or blind, or that I can’t see the world.  I hope some day that you will understand that.”

“I said half.”

“Whatever.  Now what do you want?”

“Do you know where Mum and William are?”

“No. And I would guess you wouldn’t be asking if they were in the house asleep.”

“Gawain says they are somewhere bad.”

“Since when does Gaw see the future?”

“He always knows where William is.”

“Normally he does,” Ryes says looking up at me, small lines of worry forming over his eyes, “go see if Tristan knows where they are,” he says to me turning back to the cows, “meet me back here to let me know what is going on.”

I can’t believe how nonchalant he is being about this.  He should be upset and searching for William and Mum as well, he shouldn’t be looking after the stupid cows and letting me search without him.  I turn and walk out of the Milking Parlor without a glance at my older brother.  As I walk up the hill, back toward the house I see Gawain and his father Tristan hurrying to me.  That is bad; Tristan never hurries anywhere, at least not anywhere that doesn’t have to do with the livestock.

“They aren’t in the house,” Tristan says quickly.

“We looked everywhere,” Gawain says glancing up at his father, “What did Ryes say?”

“He said to check the house while he finished up.”

“I’ll finish for him,” Tristan says, “I’ll send him right out.  Your brother has friends that may be able to shed some light on what is going on here.”

I sigh and look at Gawain, who shrugs, “I don’t know,” Gawain’s voice is quiet and strained; “Dad said something about Ryes having friends that live in the woods, friends that may take kids.”

“Kid’s like us?” I ask knowing he doesn’t have an answer, “Why would Ryes have friends that would take kids like us?”

“He wouldn’t,” Gawain says firmly.

“But if your father said-”

“What would Dad know?” he asks sharply.  I’m about to respond with ‘more than we do’ or something equally as silly when Ryes walks up to us, rubbing his hands on his jeans.   He glares at the two of us and then pushes his baseball hat back, glares at me and starts off twords the wood lot at the edge of our farm.  We hurry to follow him. 

He leads us into the woodlot along the familiar bridle paths we had always used and then without warning he made a quick left turn into the deep woods.  We had always been warned not to leave the paths.  Gawain takes my hand and gives it a squeeze, as we step off the path and into the woods proper.    Ryes walks on through the underbrush for what feels like an hour before stopping in front of a tree bigger than any I remember seeing before. 

“If you say anything about this,” Ryes turns to me his threat hanging unfinished between us. 

“I won’t.”

“Me either,” Gawain says as Ryes looks at him.

“Good, then,” he knocks on the tree.  We stand for several long seconds; just long enough for me to start to think nothing would happen.  Just as I start to think Ryes is crazy as well as untalented the trunk of the tree splits.  The crack spreads and soon an open doorway is standing where the tree trunk was.  Two women stand in the open doorway, smiling at Ryes.

“Ryes has come back to us Poppy,” the one standing closest to us.

“Of course he has Laurel, he knows we are the only ones who can give him what he wants.”

The first one, Laurel, steps up to Ryes and strokes his face, “We can make you like Thomas the Rhymer.  We can make the words flow from your mouth.  We can give you magic like your family has.”
“I know.”

“All you have to give us is one night.”

“I know, and I know one night for you could be a hundred years for my family,” Ryes gives Laurel a sad smile as she steps back from him. 

“He is too smart for the likes of us sister,” Poppy says reaching out to touch Ryes’ arm, “What do you need from us Mortal?”

“My brother and mother are missing.  Mr. Bright seems to think you would know why.  Know why and where.”

“We know why,” Laurel says.

“But we don’t know where,” Poppy continues.

“Why then?” Ryes is standing straighter than straight as he asks.

“The blood debt your family owes for the Magic that runs in your blood,” Laurel giggles before continuing, “Well in all but your blood.  Your family owes a debt to the Sidhe in the city.  They would have taken your brother, but not your mother.  They would have no interest in her.”

“But she could have followed the boy,” Poppy says. 

“She would,” Ryes confirms looking over at me, “she would have followed either of the twins.”

“We can not help you find them.  We can not go to the city, but we can help you find one that can help you,” Laurel reaches up and pulls a single hear from her head and ties it around Ryes’ wrist.  Then she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead, “Just because no one can see Magic in you, that doesn’t mean the Magic isn’t there.”   

“I know that.”

“Do you?” she pauses for a few seconds, “Take the train into the city.  The one who can guide you will find you on the train.”