Daughter of Two Worlds
Copyright (C) 2020 by Lee Bezotte All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: July 2020
Printed in the United States of America
Insparket Media
P.O. Box 1654
Moline, IL 61266
www.insparket.com
ISBN: 978-0-9976915-0-4
eISBN: 978-0-9976915-1-1
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Chapter One: Two Worlds
Chapter Two: Indulgences
Chapter Three: Nothing is Free
Chapter Four: A Dearer Price
Chapter Five: A Business Transaction
Chapter Six: What’s Left Behind
Chapter Seven: Wages and Cages
Chapter Eight: Open Sores
Chapter Nine: The Cost of Pie
Chapter Ten: Ahmcathare
Chapter Eleven: No Easy Way
Chapter Twelve: The Road is Long
Chapter Thirteen: Betrayal
Chapter Fourteen: Ocmallum
Chapter Fifteen: A Heart to Fight For
Chapter Sixteen: Return to Laor
Chapter Seventeen: The Wisdom of Mules
This book is dedicated to the quirky, misunderstood daughters and sons. Our world would be drab and dull without you.
CHAPTER ONE
Two Worlds
“This time you won’t escape me, Smarmy Kidd Black!” Maren shouted as she playfully smacked her mule with a twig.
Don’t bet on it! she imagined him to reply. The rest of my pirate gang will be along any minute.
“Well, if they come, they’ll fall right into my trap,” the young girl whooped as the cold wind whipped her long hair into slender, dark fingers that danced in the air. Though she preferred to wear an elegant woolen dress every day, her appearance was wild and unkempt, and she seldom cleaned up without significant coaxing. On this day, she was especially filthy since that was the state in which she envisioned her swashbuckling alter ego to be. Adding to her zealous warning she let out a forceful, “Ha ha ha ha haaaa!”
Interrupting her daydream, she heard the voice of Son call out, “Stop torturing Earl and come help in the garden!”
Maren stopped what she was doing as her fantasy threatened to evaporate in the breeze. She massaged her right ear and looked in her guardian’s direction with a blank expression. As she stood there, she continued the scene she was acting out in a quiet whisper, not really paying attention to what was being spoken to her. In her mind, the story had begun and she could not give audience to anything else until its completion.
“This is the third time I’ve called you to come over,” the boy chided. “We all have to do our chores or we won’t be able to plant on time.”
As he was still talking, Maren moved onto the donkey’s back and grabbed a handful of his mane. “I’m just going to put Earl in the barn first,” she explained.
“Okay, but please do hurry,” Son said. “I’m going to have to go inside to start dinner soon.”
Ignoring his urging, the girl rode slowly up toward the barn, continuing her fanciful adventure in a hushed voice. “Get moving, Smarmy Black. I’m taking you to prison.”
No cell can hold me for long, the mule replied. And when I get out, I’ll have my revenge. He then whinnied and shook his head as he plodded along past the garden.
When they reached the barn, Maren slid off of the donkey’s back, opened the door, and led him inside. She then turned around and closed the door so that both of them were shut in together, allowing her to play, for a little while longer, outside of the view of others.
“What should we read, Earl?” she asked the animal as she ran to the back of the barn where several of her books were stashed.
You decide, she imagined him to say.
“All right then, I choose The Marauders of Mydais,” she announced.
As she searched for the book, Earl sniffed at the floor, lowered his head, and slowly brought himself down into a bed of hay and wood shavings. Once situated, he munched on the hay contentedly, occasionally looking up at her. Once she found the book she was looking for, she ran over to him, sat down, and leaned back against his side.
As she read aloud, her mind took her far away to fantastic adventures and perilous escapes. She had no idea how much time had passed until the waning light in the barn made it difficult to keep reading.
She was about to put the book away and head to the garden when she heard Son yell, “Maren! Dinner!”
Immediately, she returned the book to its place in the back of the barn and ran to the house to eat.
Son sat across the small kitchen table from Maren, watching the steam rise from his bowl and pondering the last few days. As they ate the vegetable soup he had prepared, he wished that Dulnear and Faymia would hurry home from their hunting trip. Whenever his patience with Maren would run low, Faymia always seemed to have the right thing to say, and an endless gracious tone.
Trying his best to sound gentle yet firm, he said to the girl, “Maren, I really need you to keep up with your chores. I can’t run the farm all by myself.”
Looking down into her bowl of soup, she said, “I know,” and slurped up another spoonful.
“This is very important,” her guardian added.
“I know,” she said again, making an odd face at the carrots dancing about in their pool of warm broth.
Suspecting that she wasn’t really listening, Son’s neck stiffened. His lips tightened and he spoke a little louder. “Look at me, Maren.”
The girl massaged her ear and stared blankly up at the young man.
“Many times today, I called you over and tried to get you to help in the garden but you never came,” he complained. “Why don’t you just stop playing and come?” he asked.
Still staring, Maren answered
