Unyielding

This is a short story I wrote for a contest. Enjoy!

    Moonlight filtered into the dark forest from the thick canopy above and landed softly on the earth, giving just enough light for Silvia to find her way.  She moved forward silently, her cloak flowing in time with the wind.  Every few steps, she glanced behind her, as if watching for an unseen foe.
    Suddenly, a voice pierced the silence, “Silvia.”
    She froze.  Her eyes darted around, scanning the forest for movement.  Nothing stirred.  The voice sounded like it had come more from her mind than from the physical world.  She glanced up at the trees.  Perhaps it was the forest.  Her thoughts drifted to the stories she had heard of strange, forgotten lands––the lands where the King sent his missionaries––the lands He was sending her to now.
    Pressing forward, she wandered for another hour before hearing the voice again.  This time, she was sure.  Laying her hand on the hilt of her sword, she called out,
    “Who’s there?”
    Silence ensued.  She started to call out again, but the voice spoke first, sounding much closer.
    “One who can offer you something you desire.”
    Silvia pulled her sword out of her scabbard, scanning the trees.
    “Where are you?  Show yourself!”
    Suddenly, the wind swirled and a man seemed to step out of its midst.  He wore dark black chain mail and armor.  A sword hung menacingly at his side.  Everything about him showed evidence of a strong warrior, except a small bundle of cloth he carried  in his arm.
    Silvia instantly pointed her sword at his chest.  His shocked face quickly changed to hurt.
    “Why do you threaten me, Silvia?  I have not come to fight.”
    Silvia lowered her blade slightly but stayed in an offensive stance.
    “Then why have you come?”
     “I have come to offer you something your King took away from you long ago.”
    Silvia eyed the man suspiciously.
    “What do you mean?”
    As she spoke, a muffled cry came from the bundle of cloth.  Silvia gasped.
    “You––you have a child?”
    “Not just any child.  Your child.  The child that was taken from you.”
    Silvia’s mind flashed back to that dreadful day five years ago.  She had just given birth to her first child––a son, small, innocent.  She remembered his soft face and his loving blue eyes.  A few days later, he became deathly ill.  His bright eyes became dark and sad.  Silvia and her husband prayed to the King for days, but He did not answer.  Her son didn’t deserve to die.  He had done nothing wrong.  She shut her eyes tight as tears trickled down her face.
    The man pulled the cloth from the child’s face, allowing Silvia to see him.
    “Your son was taken from you by the King; I can restore him to you.”
    Looking at the child, Silvia had no doubts.  This was her son.  But how?  Her son had died.  She looked at the man,
    “This is my son, but the King did not take him from me.  He died from sickness a few days after he was born.”
    “On the contrary, the King did take your child from you.  He allowed him to die and did nothing to prevent it––even when He had the power to do so.”
    These thoughts had often stirred in Silvia’s mind.  But seeing her child now and hearing the words spoken aloud brought them back stronger than ever before.
    Tears flowed freely down her face.  If they were tears of sadness from the loss of her son, or tears of anger at the King for not healing him, she did not know.  As she cried, she remembered a verse from the King’s scrolls, one that had helped her before.  It said that in all things the King works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
    She stifled her tears and held her head higher.  She did not know why her son died or what significance it played in the King’s ultimate purpose.  But she knew that the King was right in everything he did.
    The man interrupted her thoughts,
    “You may hold your son lovingly in your arms again.  Simply turn from the wicked rule of your King and we will escape to a land far away where He will never reach us.”
    “The King is not wicked.  He is holy and pure.  No one is as righteous as Him.”
    “The King is only self-righteous,” the man smirked.  “He makes His own rules and then expects everyone else to follow them.  Tell me, how was the King righteous in taking your son?”
    Silvia looked at the ground, feeling the tears returning.
    “I don’t know why the King allows bad things to happen, but He is right and good in everything he does.  Everything is for a purpose.”
    “Then what was the purpose of your son‘s death?  To make you suffer and cry day after day?  What good came from that?”
    Silvia wept.  “I don’t know!”  she choked.
    The man looked at her softly.
    “It’s fine to cry.  Renounce your King and come with me.  I promise we will never speak of his wickedness again.”
    He held out his hand to her.
    Silvia reached out to take it, but stopped.  She heard a voice inside her head, recognizing it as her King.
    “Silvia, this is not your son.  Your real son is with me in my eternal kingdom.  Do not follow this man.  He will lead you down a dark path and in the end, you will perish in the fire of his domain.”
    Silvia pulled her hand back.  “No!  You are a liar and your twisted words would bring me more pain than I could imagine.  I will never follow you.”
    Black mist suddenly surrounded the man.  The child in his arm disappeared.  He drew his sword and swung it at Silvia.
    “Then you have chosen death.”
    Silvia blocked the blow but staggered backwards.  He was strong.  She would not be able to beat him by force.  But she never beat anyone with force.  She would stick to what she knew best: swift movements and fast thrusts.
    He struck again.  Silvia rolled to the side, leaping up behind the man.  She swung at his back, but the man turned and slapped her sword away.  The shock from the blow stung her hand, but she held on.
    He did not hesitate before his next strike, crashing his sword against Silvia’s again and again.  Silvia struggled against the repeating blows until, unable to bear it any longer, she let her sword crash to the ground.  Her opponent did not notice.  His sword sliced through Silvia’s hip, causing her to scream out in pain and fall to her knees.  Blood was running through her hands as she clutched her wound.
    The man paused, “Why do you suffer needlessly for someone who doesn’t love you?
    “My King loved relentlessly when he suffered for me.  Why should I do any less for him?”
    The man raised his sword above Silvia’s neck.
    She straightened her back and looked into the sky.  She would follow the King forever, no matter what.  She had no regrets.  And she was glad, even as his stroke fell…

Comment what you think!

The Linien Group Chapter 3

Hey everyone! This is sort of the chapter that moves the story along. Enjoy!




Chapter 3

The First Mission

           Lindle pulled a lever that had been concealed behind a picture that depicted an old man sitting on a rocking chair. The wall behind him slid away revealing a dark stairway which led to a tunnel. The group of five rushed down the stairs and into a long hall. There were weapons adorning either wall. Filian had never seen so many swords. It seemed, to him, that every one he saw was better than the last. Once they came to the end of the weapons hall Filian found many boxes of provisions which Lindle started to put into a large satchel. “Filian and Jakar go grab a couple of weapons for yourselves. Rachael and Tyraino help me gather food for all of us.” Filian ran back to the hall and sorted through the weapons. There were so many to chose from. Eventually Filian chose to long slim blades and a couple daggers to go with them. He ran back to find all but Jakar waiting for them with full bags of equipment and food. After some time Jakar ran up holding a crossbow with a quiver of arrows, and a sword. “Now” Lindle started “we are supposed to rendezvous with Captain Lyaber at Treboar in three days. So we leave now.” “Wait” Filian called out “I had some questions abou…” He was cut off rudely by Lindle. “All will become clear soon. Now follow me.” The muscular man ran down the tunnel leaving the rest of them to catch up. Filian pushed himself as hard as he could and soon found that he was out of shape. After a long run Filian spotted a light up ahead where he could make out the silhouette of Lindle waiting for the rest of them. The tunnel ended out the side of the Linien outposts foundation. “Are we taking horse?” Tyraino asked Lindle “Yes” Lindle replied as Filian and Jakar tried to catch their breath. “Now we must be silent as we approach the stables.” “Why…” Jakar huffed out “do we have to sneak?” “That was… one of the… questions… I wanted to ask.” Filian stated between breaths.  “If you must know” Lindle answered “we are basically King Rorington’s secret weapon of sorts. If the whole kingdom knew about us then lets say a war started it wouldn’t take long for the enemy to hear about us. And then they would be much more cautious in their doings. Does that answer your questions?” “Why haven’t I ever seen you before?” Filian asked with confidence filling his voice. “We are dead. That is according to the Kingdoms Book of the Dead. I died from drowning when I was but a wee lad. I guess that you two should die also.” “Will you consult Riphgaurd on the matter?” Rachael asked. “Once we reach Treboar I will seek him out on the subject. Now to the stables.” The team started to run again. Filian didn’t much like the idea of being dead. When he was a child both his parents had died in the Tribal Wars. They had both fought valiantly or so he was told. Filian had only been eight years old when his grandmother broke the news to him. She had raised him for three more years then died of fever. That’s when Filian joined the training and met Jakar. They had gone around the out post foundation to the back where the wooden stable stood tall. They snuck inside to find it empty of people. “Grab a horse quickly.” Lindle commanded fiercely. Filian hopped onto a sleek black horse. He read the steeds name tag: Charger. Some how the name fit the horse. “Follow my lead.” Lindle said as his horse bolted through the doorway.

Yzingowa ran through the woods with great speed. The expert swords men knew exactly where he was going. Yzingowa was almost like a walking compass because of the Yzarr’s amazing memory. The woods he trod on, he remembered, his father, Yzingu the Great, had brought him to when he was not only two years of age. Although the Yzarr was running at a great rate, there was not one drop of perspiration to be found on him. He readied his double bladed sword as he ran. Yzingowa connected the two blades to the metallic handle. He knew that he would need the sword handy. Finally Yzingowa came to a huge hole in the ground. If he hadn’t known it was coming he would have fallen to his death. He could see no bottom to the hole. The diameter of it was at least  five hundred feet across. There were tunnels coursing throughout the entire hole. The Troll Nation was right where Yzingowa had remembered it. He pulled a grappling hook from his back. Yzingowa was obviously an expert at it. The hook flew through the air until landed on the floor of the exact tunnel he had aimed to hit. He tested it to make sure it was secure then tied it around his slim waist. Yzingowa backed away a couple steps then ran. When he got one step from the hole then jumped. Yzingowa flew through the air. He stuck out his feet as soon as they hit the wall he shoved off. The next time he hit Yzingowas knees buckled. He undid the rope around his waist and started climbing. As soon as he reached the top a massive troll charged him. Yzingowa pulled his sword from his back ready to fight. The troll was at least twice as tall as the eight foot Yzarr. He held in one, four fingered, hand a hammer in the other a huge oval shaped shield. From Yzingowa’s personal experience trolls were not the smartest creatures in the kingdom although they are big and bulky. Yzingowa knew that this would be a quick match if he could only out smart it. The troll closed in on, on the still standing assassin, and then vaulted into the air. The assassin waited till the last minute then rolled underneath the beastly giant. The troll stared at Yzingowa with a curios  look in his dark eyes. “Why are you here?” He asked with a hint of hurt in his voice. “I should have figured” the assassin said “you’re the only one left that was there that fateful night.” “You will pay, Yzingowa. So many of my kind died that night. I will not let you through.” “I doubt that Zoll.” The assassin said looking up at the rock top to the tunnel. The stupid troll stared at the ceiling. Yzingowa threw an extremely sharp disk. It cut the trolls neck perfectly. Yzingowa had thrown the metal disk cutting through the trolls thick skin. “You never were very good at fighting.” Yzingowa scoffed. He knew exactly where to go. Yzingowa didn’t run into any more trouble on the way. He stopped at to large wooden doors. Yzingowa pushed the door in easily. In side was a huge library. The shelves full of books rose several hundred feet into the air. Yzingowa passed by the many shelves he was interested in just one of them. The Book of the Dead!

Quest for the Stone Chapter 2 Part 1

This chapters really long so I'm going to post it in four parts, with approximately three pages for each part. Don't kill me for what's about to happen to Jonah...

*****

            Jonah sat up groggily and tried to remember where he was. As his eyesight adjusted his mind also cleared. Suddenly, a rush of thoughts came flooding back. The city, his friends, the guards. That conceited king! He thought angrily. If it weren’t for him I’d still be in the city!

            Jonah looked around and started to panic, realizing that he was in a closed cell. The lunazon king had said banishment, not imprisonment! The cell did not seem to have a door so Jonah could not even think about trying to escape through one. He shuffled backwards and leaned against a wall. As he leaned back, he looked up and laughed out loud. The fools! He thought happily, almost laughing. There is no roof. Who could forget that detail? Jonah spread his light blue wings and started to lift off. A stabbing pain in both wings brought him down again. Looking closely, he saw that there were holes in his beautiful wings. Jonah screamed.

            Suddenly, the wall slid open and someone stepped in. He had bright purple wings and body. His hair was back as were his eyes. His voice was deep and gravelly as he spoke to Jonah.

            “You will be tried in the morning. If,” the man said, “You are found guilty, you will be executed.”

            “Guilty?” Jonah asked, more curios than scared.

            “Yes, guilty.”

            “For what?” Inquired Jonah, felling more foolish by the moment. If he was guilty for something, he should know what it was.

            “For running amok in the streets of the Northwester Regions, of course.”

Jonah was confused. “Running amok?” He asked, “I was playing a game! Didn’t you do that when you were a child?” He glared at the guard, daring him to argue. “Besides, I wasn’t running, I was flying! Someone must have known that, otherwise I’d still have my wings whole and healthy!”

The guard looked at him. His eyes betraying only one emotion, pity. “Look, he said. Don’t shoot the messenger. That’s all I am. I don’t know what this was about; I don’t know why you are in prison and awaiting trial because of running around in the streets. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve never even spoken to the king, and he’s the one who decides these things, you know. Here, I have food.” The guard placed a plate of food and turned to leave.

“The Real King be with you,” he muttered quietly.

“Wait,” whispered Jonah. “You believe too?”

“How can I not?” He asked, “I heard the testimonies, and all of them struck my heart, especially yours. Maybe that is why you are here. I cannot say.” He turned thoughtful for a minute. “But maybe there is a way to get you out…”

“How?” asked Jonah eagerly.

“Be ready, tomorrow, after the trial. I am sure you will be found guilty, but I understand it now. I will send someone to get you out of here, but you must be ready. It will be another Lunazon. You may be sentenced to death. If that is so, we might not be able to get you out in time, but we will try. I must go now. I have been here too long already.”

“One last thing,” said Jonah, tentatively.

“Yes?” Asked the guard, an unreadable expression on his face.

“What is your name?”

“My name?” Clearly, this was the last question the guard had expected. “I am Japheth. Now eat and rest. The trial awaits you and you must be able to defend yourself.”

“Thank you. May the Real King be with you.”

The guard left.

Escape, Jonah thought. There is hope.

“The Real King,” he muttered to himself. “I like it.” People had been calling the last King of the Northwestern Regions the Real King ever since he had died. At least, the believers had. Cletus was his real name. He had been Jonah’s adopted father, of course, until that night. Jonah shuddered, just thinking about it. It was still too soon to remember those details.

Remembering his food, Jonah ate. It wasn’t much, just a slice of almost stale bread and some warm water, but it tasted very good to him. Jonah sighed contentedly, lay back, and slept.

Sometime, maybe a few hours later, Jonah woke up. Pain burned inside him, it was as if he were on fire from the inside. But, unlike real fire, there was no burning, no actual fire. It felt like he was burning, but he was not. Through the pain, Jonah remembered something. This was called Purging Fire. It was used to test young men of their courage and bravery. It would have happened to Jonah last year, had his father not stepped in.

The pain intensified, and Jonah slipped in and out of consciousness, finally losing consciousness all together.
**********

The Linien Group Chapter Two!

Okay this chapter might be just a little bit boring so I'll get the next one out sooner. Enjoy




Chapter 2
The Linien Group
“These two!” One of the group contradicted. “Yes, these two. I assume that they have been listening to our conversation.” “These are just a couple of troublemakers.” The woman fumed. “What are your names?” The big man asked ignoring the woman completely. Filian was the first to speak up, “I’m Filian and… this is… Jakar,” He managed to say. “Well Filian, and… Jakar welcome to the Linien Group.” “If I may ask” Jakar appealed “what is the Linien group?” “You should sit down.” The man with the hammer chortled “it’s a long story.
“First off my name is Lindle son of the fearsome Linien” the man with the hammer implied. “And this is, ” he gestured to the gorgeous woman now sitting across from them, “Rachael Songsinger. And last but, not least this is Tyraino Knifemaster. Now that we have made introductions on to the story. Have you two ever heard of Linien the Warrior?” Filian, and Jakar shook there heads in unison. “That’s who this group is named after and this outpost. It turns out he raised me; although, he wasn’t my real father he treated me like a son. During the Cold Wars Linien discovered something of great power. I remember him one night saying that he was going on a long trip and wasn’t sure when he would return but, he told me that this one thing would change the war for good. Meanwhile I stayed and kept up the farm. Linien returned different from when he departed. He was much stronger and also a better warrior than before. He said that he had to leave again immediately to march to war.” “What does all this have to do with the Lin… a… what ever group?” Jakar questioned. “Let Lindle finish the story and all shall become clear.” Tyraino insisted “The war seemed to be going well” Lindle continued “that is before Linien became careless with the power he held. What ever the source of the power he let it slip out of his grasp and into another’s. The Yzarr people, whom we were at war with, their leader got his hands on the power and was almost unstoppable. Yzingu, the Yzarr peoples leader, marched his army to this outpost. The king had all of his men sent to this very outpost to stop them. The entire war came down to this battle. The king even joined the battle. I was also present that fateful day. It sure was a sight two enormous army’s fighting at this little outpost. The Yzarr army soon made ways to enter and the battle was inside. Linien watched as Yzingowa was blowing through our ranks. He charged him wanting to end it. He jumped off of a ballista’s base and flew through the air. Yzingowa had is head turned. He heard Liniens shout of rage and swung his sword as he turned his head. They both killed each other with one swing each. Now, Jakar, before you ask me again what this has to do with the Linien group let me simply finish the story. Shortly before the battle Linien was sent on a mission to assonate one of Yzingowas commanders. The king told him he could chose what ever men he wanted. So he chose five of the best and they completed the mission expertly. So Linien presented an idea to the king that they should keep the group together for missions of such. And also to keep it a secret. So now that you know everything what do you say do you want to be a part of the Linien group?” Filian and Jakar looked at each other with dazed eyes. “That wasn’t really a question” Rachael announced “ now that you know everything you two don’t really have a choice.” “I’m in” Jakar said. Filian thought about it a little longer then said: “As am I.”
Filian had slept poorly the whole night. Tossing and turning there where too many thoughts rushing through his mind. Him and Jakar had ended up in the same place late at night: the food hall. They both sat at a table with a cup of ale in hand. “Why did you have to go down there in the first place?” Filian asked Jakar with rage. “I am sorry Filian, but it was your decision to come with me.” “That is one, Jakar, that I will forever regret. Now I am going to go to my bed and try to sleep. Lindle said we are going to need it are training starts tomorrow.” And with that Filian stood up and walked away. Leaving Jakar to lie in self pity.
As it turned out Filians attempt at sleep failed miserably. He awoke exhausted and stiff. He was also still angry at Jakar. “I should have just stayed here.” He muttered to himself. Filian and Jakar had been instructed to meet the rest of the group at in the same room in the storage area after breakfast. Filian moseyed down the stairs and into the food hall. A thought suddenly occurred to Filian. He had never seen Lindle or the others before. Were they in hiding? Separated from the rest of the world. Filian had been one of the first in line for hot oats. Not his favorite meal. He saw Jakar who had fallen asleep on top of one of the tables. He had drool oozing out of his mouth. At least he got some sleep. Filian thought to himself. This would be the ideal time to get back at him. Filian thought for a moment about dumping his bowl of hot oats down his neck, or pouring his milk throughout his greasy hair. Fortunately, for Jakar, Filian resisted. Instead he wolk him up with a gentle nudge. “If want some food before are meeting with the Linien group you better get in line.” Filian whispered in Jakars ear. He lifted his head dazed. Then Filians words struck him. Jakar jumped up and ran to the line. Filian was finishing his bowl as Jakar walked up with his. “Ah there’s nothing like hot oats and a glass of milk. Is there Filian?” “Yes” Filian replied “there is living a normal life without having to go to war with only six people including myself! Filian realized that he was standing up and shouting at the top of his lungs. But he no longer cared. “And another thing he said I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night because of your… stupidity! You are always getting into trouble Jakar. When are you going to learn!” Everyone in the food hall had become silent listening to there argument. Filian stomped off leaving Jakar, again, to stare at his bowl of food. He walked to the entrance of the of the storage area. There was a guard stationed at the door. “Excuse me sir” Filian grumbled “I need to get through.” “Authorization please.” He stated dryly. “What authorization?” “Every one that goes down to the storage area has to have authorization because some… were stealing food.” “Who all has this authorization?” Filian questioned. “I’m not aloud to give that kind of information.” Filian resisted the erg to punch the man; besides, the man was just doing his duty. He thought about how he could get in. Then it hit him if there was food in the basement so the cooks must have had access to the storage area. He ran to the kitchen. He knew a couple of the cooks, but none better than Ginger. “You want me to do what.” the red head said. “I can’t give you that. It’s for cooks, captains, and smiths.” “Please” Filian pleaded with her. “I’ll do anything.” “Anything?” “Yes anything!” “Okay you can do tomorrows mornings dishes.” “Okay. Now hand it over.” She reluctantly handed it to him. It was just a simple card with her name on it and the words “head cook” on it. Filian ran into the food hall grabbed Jakar and ran back out. “What is all this about?” Jakar questioned; although, Filian paid him no heed for he was still angry with him. They finally stopped a the entrance to the storage area. To Jakars relief a different guard had been stationed at the door. He held up the card and the guard let them pass. Fortunately the guard hadn’t noticed that according to the card his name was Ginger. They rushed down the stairs and burst through the door. Everyone was now present. It appeared to Filian that they had been waiting awhile. “It is about time” Tyraino fumed. “There were complications.” Filian replied. “There isn’t much time.” Lindle implied. “We have to leave. In fact we have to leave now!”