Sunday, March 18, 2012

Seeds of Faith chp1 part2

Well, no one else has posted so I will.

      The chopper bucked back and forth in the turbulence, it’s passengers hanging on to their seats for dear life. Most of them were Liberator soldiers. Highly trained, they could run for miles with out fainting and if given the order, could kill with barely a thought about it. This ride was making them all nauseous.
      One of the soldiers was Lieutenant John Ramsley. He dug his fingers into the fabric of the bench beneath him. Bile rose in the back of his throat. Swallowing, he tried not to think about how the helicopter swayed in every gust of wind. Looking around he saw that the others seemed to be feeling just about the same as he did. That meant there would be no ribbing about his weak stomach later. It didn’t really matter though, he was too sick to gloat in such a small victory. Why was this trip back to base so upsetting?
     Groaning, John stared down at his feet. It didn’t help. He glanced around, trying to find any where to set his eyes that would relieve the urge to heave his lunch. Instead, his eyes collided with those of their prisoner. Dark brown eyes stared back at him in anger. They were set in the face of a young woman about his age. Her hair was just past her shoulders and matched her eyes. With the exception of the dirt on her clothes and her mussed hair, she was quite beautiful but defiantly not his type.
    He and some other soldiers had found the woman sneaking through a previously deserted town that the Liberator forces had recently turned into a training course. He still was having a hard time believing it. Waking up one morning to begin drills, they had been surprised to see her making her way in their direction.
      At first she hadn’t seen them- that was until one of the newer recruits had alerted her to their presence. The soldier had whooped like an Indian on the war path and then took off running after her. That action had earned him two weeks of kitchen duty. John didn’t feel any pity for him, he brought it on himself.
       Even with the warning and the head start, they still found the woman easily enough later. If she hadn’t fallen and hurt herself, she might have a least made it out of the town’s limits. Instead, she ended up with a banged up ankle and was cuffed in a helicopter taking her to the nearest Liberator base. Once there, she would have her ankle looked at and then she would be transferred to the interrogation center. Lucky her.
John let a smile tug at his lips. She would be his assignment, he was sure. Being the only one of the five interrogators present at her capture, he would be given the first chance to grill her.
      If there was any fact in the rumors of a man who would attempt to over power the Liberator forces and convert everyone to Christianity he would find it. He had spent his entire adult life on the job. The document, or “Prophecy” as it was called that had started the rumors had originated in the town he had just left.
     Seeing the chance to search for over looked information, John had asked to travel with the trainees when they came to use the course. He had found nothing and no one in the first three days. When the course was built, all evidence had probably been destroyed. Not only that, but for years the only inhabitants of the cities that could be found were birds and wild animals. At least that was until they had found this woman wandering around. Now they would hopefully discover if she knew anything of the rumors or if that was all they were.
      One thing John knew for certain was that if she did have any knowledge of the man, he would find out about it. He had to. He had lived his entire life with the army because of his father. His father had given his life for this cause. It was the only way he could make his father proud.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Seeds of Faith- chp 1 part 1.2

Sorry, realized that the other post was wayyyy too long, so I split it in half and made two. The first part of this is the post right before.

    Only one bulb hung from the ceiling, giving light to the small space. She didn’t like it and she wanted out but she knew that if she left she would get in trouble. She had already gotten yelled at for complaining, she didn’t want to be yelled at again.
     For awhile, they stayed there with nothing happening. Then, the ground shook and dirt fell from the ceiling. Her brother screamed and began to whimper again. Katie shushed him, but he didn’t listen. “Mama!” he cried, “Mama.” Giving up, Katie simply tried to keep herself from joining him.
     It wasn’t even half an hour after their parents had left that a clamor started close outside the cellar. Shouts, gunshots, and then screams echoed in the air around them. Seeping in through the door over head, the sounds were muffled but no less frightening. They stopped almost as soon as they began and a new sound took their place: the creaking of metal. Dirt showered around them again and Katie covered Nathan’s mouth while he screamed and she held back tears. The noises only lasted for a couple of hours, stopping and then starting again, but by then the strange laughter and shouts of terror had driven the children to great bouts of tears.
     They stayed where they were until late in the afternoon. By this time, all noises from above had ceased and Katie’s brother had fallen asleep. Dirt crunched over head and Katie jumped to her feet. A hiccupped sob escaped her before the chains rattled and the door opened to reveal the tear stained face of Mason, the neighbor boy. He gazed at Nathan’s exhausted form and shuttered, whipping at the tears. He turned his attention to Katie and whispered, “Can you lift him up to me?”
     Katie sniffled and nodded. He wasn’t who she had hoped would come for them but at the moment she wasn’t going to complain. She wrapped her arms around Nathan and stood. He sagged in her grip and she grunted. Squeezing her eyes tight, she shifted her grasp to keep from dropping him. Mom and Dad told her to take care of him and she would. Slowly she made it over to the ladder and heaved Nathan up. His head barely cleared her shoulders and he shifted with a snort.
     Leaning through the opening as far as he could, Mason clasped Nathan under his arms and lifted him the rest of the way out of the cellar. They both disappeared from Katie’s view as he set Nathan on the ground. Returning to sight, he reached down to help Katie up the ladder. Once above ground, Katie dove into the boy’s arms and wept into his neck. Gasping, he pulled her closer and let his own silent tears fall into her hair.
    They remained like this for sometime, moonlight illuminating their crouched forms. Katie saw the people laying on the ground, dead, over his shoulder and wept harder. She tried to run from his arms, “Mom!”
Mason didn’t let her go. “I know,” he whispered, “I know. She’s gone, they’re all gone. They killed them.” Even at her young age, Katie knew what he meant. Together, they cried for those they had loved and lost. In that moment, Mason, the thirteen year old from next door, became more than just that. He had just become a comforter and a protector, much older than his years, if for only a short time.
     Nathan snorted again, rolling on his side and curling up into a ball. Hearing him, Mason pulled away from Katie, “Come on, we should go inside.” He picked up Nathan, who was now sucking his thumb, and began to walk around to the front of the house. Katie stumbled behind him, blinking away her tears. Other than the sleeping sounds Nathan made and the crickets chirping, nothing else could be heard. Was no one else still alive?
      Inside the house, Mason laid the still sleeping Nathan on the couch. Then he sat down in the single chair next to the couch. It had been Daddy’s chair. Katie let out a sob and crawled into Mason’s lap. There, they cried themselves to sleep.
     The following morning, Katie awoke to find Mason missing. Clunking noises lead her to find him in the kitchen, banging through cupboards. Unable to find what he looked for, he kicked the counter and yelled. Collapsing on the ground, he kept on screaming, head tilted back. Startled awake, Nathan began to cry in the living room. Frightened, Katie silently moved onto the tiled floor. Slowly she placed her hand on his shoulder.
     “What?” Mason shouted, jerking his head around to see her. Face ablaze, he glared at her until tears leaked from her eyes uncontrollably. His face softened with remorse, “I’m sorry, Katie. I didn’t know it was you,” he whispered. He tried to hug her but she stepped back, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Katie. I really am,” he begged her to understand, “I just- I just couldn’t,” he sighed, “I just couldn’t find the peanut butter.”
Gasping through her tears, Katie stared at Mason’s face. He was sorry, she knew, but she couldn’t stop crying. Turning, she pointed to the cupboard above her head, where she couldn’t reach. “There,” she choked out.
     Mason looked from Katie to the cupboard. Standing, he reached out and opened it. The peanut butter sat right there on the shelf. Shoulders down, Mason looked at the floor and sighed, pinching his eyes closed. Slowly he removed the peanut butter and set it on the counter. A little while later, after Mason had her and Nathan wash off the dirt from the cellar, all three of them sat at the dining room table eating the one dish Mason knew how to make: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It wasn’t what she usually ate for breakfast but Katie refrained from mentioning it.
     When Nathan finished, he pushed away his plate and climbed from his chair. He walked over to Mason and tugged his sleeve. “Wiggles.”
     Mason looked down at him, his face still swollen. “What?”
    “Wiggles!” Nathan repeated, bouncing on his toes.
     Katie sighed, “He wants to watch the Wiggles. Its his favorite, he watches it every morning.”
     “Oh.” Mason pushed out his chair.
    As soon as he saw that he was going to get his wish, Nathan took off, running for the living room and shouting, “Wiggles,” as loud as he could.
    About lunch time, they heard trucks driving around outside. Mason rushed to the window in the front room with Katie close behind. Nathan was too involved in his show to even be curious.
The trucks parked in the middle of the street and the people in them hopped out and looked around. Katie was filled with fear at the sight of them but Mason began to smile. “They’re Christians, Katie,” he said in excitement.
     Katie hardly heard him. Her eyes had landed on the bodies in the street and in the yards. The one at the end of the driveway looked like Dad. She ran for the door forgetting all about the people in the trucks. Mason yelled after her as she opened the door.
     Across the yard Katie ran, as fast as her legs would take her. Mason’s shouts at the door did not deter her. Reaching the body, she saw that it was her Dad. Sinking to her knees, she sobbed and buried her head in his bloody shirt. “Daddy!” she wailed, “Daddy!”
     Arms Katie did not know wrapped around her waist and tried to lift her away. “No!” she screamed, flailing her fists and jerking her body. “No, put me down!”
Mason appeared in front of her and grabbed her hands. “Katie, stop! You have to stop,” he said. With a sob, Katie fell limp and the arms released her to Mason. “I know,” he whispered once more, “I know, Katie.”
     Katie began to shake her head. No, no he did not understand. How could he? But then she remembered, he did. He knew her pain because he had lost his parents too. She cried harder, this time grateful that someone could help hold her pain. Maybe later she would cry with him for his parents.
     By night fall, all of the town’s children were piled into the trucks that had come. Katie, Nathan, and Mason huddled together, a blanket wrapped around them to ward off the cold. Mason noticed a girl about Katie’s age sitting in the bed of the truck with them. On her lap, she held a baby. She had wrapped the baby in her blanket. “Come here,” Mason whispered, lifting a corner of their blanket for her. She eyed him warily for a moment but then saw Nathan and Katie huddled at his sides. She scooted closer while Mason shifted Nathan onto his lap, making more room. “What’s your name?” Mason asked.
    “Sarah.” Her teeth chattered. Nodding to the baby, she added “And this is Tyson.”
Mason smiled, “Well Sarah, I’m Mason, and this is Katie and her brother Nathan.” The girls smiled shyly at each other, “Hi,” they said at the same time.
     Drawn together by their common loses and their common responsibilities as protective sisters, the two girls soon became friends. In the years to come they did everything together. They played together, bossed their brothers together, and ignored Mason together when he was pretending to be their older brother; a role he believed that he was required to fill. They were still friends years later when Katie decided to visit her old home, though Sarah had not agreed to accompany her. Nathan hadn’t agreed either and Katie had not bothered to ask Mason. He would have tried to lock her up somewhere.
     None of them had wanted to remember those two days. It still hurt to think of it, but Katie had to come anyway. She didn’t want to forget but instead wanted to remember the sacrifice their parents had made. For this reason she had needed to see the last place she had been with them. Her need had brought her here, to be chased by Liberators. Soldiers who had killed hundreds and orphaned thousands. The thought caused rage to well up in her chest but she beat it back. It wouldn’t help her right now. But oh, how she wanted to let it well up with in her and spill out to crush those who had crushed her family and those of her friends.
      “Why?” Katie labored to the sky as she pushed herself up. She wiped away tears, “Why? When all they have done is hurt. Why should I love them?” but she knew the answer. The Lord demanded it. At the cross he forgave those had who beat and killed him. She couldn’t do any less. Help me Father! Katie cried out in her head, “Help me to turn my hate into love.
     Lurching to her feet, Katie tried to continue on but she had twisted her ankle when she fell. Pain ripped through her leg and she ground her teeth together to keep from crying out. She had to keep going, but she couldn’t take a step. Her feet gave way under her and
she landed with a thud.
     Gravel crunched behind Katie and she knew that someone was behind her. She tried to crawl away but it was too late. The barrel of a gun pushed against her temple as the Liberator leaned over her. “Rise with your hands up,” the man growled. Instead, Katie fainted when the man stepped on her ankle, not seeing it below his foot.

Seeds of Faith- Chp 1 part1

Hey, if you read all of this (or even a lot of it) Would you mind leaving a critique. I want to know the good and bad things about what I write. My mom is not the most helpful in telling me what I can do better...

    Katie ducked, covering her head as cement rained down from the building arched above her. Shots resounded through the early morning air. They came from behind her, that much was sure, but from where exactly could not be determined. Fog hid everything farther than the curb about five feet away. The street blurred before her, light hitting its surface through the colloid. When the dust stopped falling, the crunch of gravel underfoot began.
    Here, history repeated itself. Years before the Liberators had invaded this town to kill Christians. This time, they chased only one Christian, her. If they found her, she was dead, or worse. Christians could not enter any of the deserted and destroyed towns such as this one, the fear being that they would set up underground settlements, hidden by the rubble in order to practice their harmful beliefs. Problem was, the towns had once been their homes.
   Katie leaned her head against the wall. She should not have been there. She should have stayed away just as she had been for the past fifteen years, why had she needed to return now? Nathan had been right, she was just asking for trouble. Thinking that she knew better and could take care of herself, she had told him to mind his own business. How was she supposed to know that for once, her little brother had been right?
    A window shattered nearby and she jumped. Glass showered down on the ground, just barely missing her. Whimpering, Katie pushed away from the wall and away from the Liberators. The street would lead her out to the forest if she could make it. She just had to keep from alerting the soldiers as to where she was. The crunch of glass under her boots made her cringe. How much farther?
    Her heart beat rapidly, panic trying to take hold and make her do something she would regret. Breathe deep, she reminded herself, breathe deep and pray. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil. The corner of a house crashed to the ground and she picked up her pace. I shall fear no evil for you are with me. I shall fear no evil for-. Having forgotten to watch where she was going, Katie tripped on a rock in her path. She landed on her hands and knees with a shriek.
    “Hey! I heard something over there!” a voice shouted behind her. Other voices added their own shouts of triumph.
    Katie groaned, shoving back to her feet. It was her own stupid fault that they were even chasing her in the first place. If she simply had waited to enter the town until the fog had cleared she would have seen them before they saw her and left. Instead she had walked right into the center of town as if she owned the place. God certainly must have been looking out for her because that was where the soldiers had set up their targets to begin their practice. She was still alive, but had quickly become their new target.
     If she could have resisted the urge to come see her old home she would have been fine. Then again, if she had done just about anything else differently, she would have been fine.
    She could not be caught. She could not give the Liberators even one more victory. Not with the memory of the last time she had been there playing through her head. Heart pounding, breath coming in deep gasps, the memories just kept surfacing. Seemingly of one accord, her feet and her mind began to travel paths long forgotten.
    The sun began to rise in both the past and the present, its rays warming Katie’s face. Grass tickled her feet as she knelt to pluck a blade. The small green leaf flittered in her fingers, the perfect weapon to use against Nathan. Quickly, she stuck it in his ear and then yanked it back. Barely noticing, Nathan swatted at his head and then returned to his pile of sticks, fully engrossed in turning it into a house. Or what he thought looked like a house. Katie sighed. Three year olds were no fun.
    The front door banged and Katie dropped the piece of grass. Mom ran out of the house with Dad close behind her. The expressions on their faces worried her. Mom was crying and Dad looked like he was about to. Why were they so upset? She hadn’t hurt Nathan, he hadn’t even looked at her when she stuck the leaf in his ear. She stood to her feet. “Mommy?”
    Mom sobbed and picked Katie up, pulling her close. Katie wrapped her arms around Mom’s neck and patted her on the back.
    Dad came up behind Mom, bending so that he could look Katie in the eye, “Sweetie, you’re going to need to take care of your brother for a while, okay?” He reached out and took one of her hands in his.
Katie strove to keep from scrunching up her face. She hated watching Nathan. Almost every time she did, she had to change him and make sure that he didn’t eat anything he wasn’t supposed to. He was disgusting. “Why?”
    “Because you do. Now don’t question me anymore,” he took Katie from her mom, for once not lecturing her any more than that, “I love you, you know,” he whispered into her hair. Tears fell on her forehead as he tightened his grip.
     “I love you too, Daddy,” Katie said, snuggling close. She didn’t know what else to do, Dad never cried. Mom soon returned to the hug when Dad didn’t let go, bringing Nathan with her. After awhile both of Katie’s parents leaned back to look at her face. It felt weird for her parents to look at her like that. They had never done it before and she didn’t know what to think of it now.
    “Katie,” Mom said, “Your dad and I are leaving for awhile, and while we’re gone, we need you to hide with your brother down in the cellar,” her voice became commanding, the tone she used when Katie wouldn’t go to bed, “Do not leave. When you are able to come out, either your father and I or one of the neighbors will come and get you.”
     “But, Mommy, the cellar is wet,” Katie complained. Immediately, she wished she that hadn’t.
     “No buts,” Dad said, setting her back on the ground. “You will do as you are told. Or-,” he cleared his throat, struggling with what to say, “Or bad things will happen.”
What bad things? Katie began to cry in response to her parents tears. She nodded her head, “Yes, Daddy.”
     “Come on,” Mom said, picking up Nathan. She walked to the back of their house where the cellar was and Dad made sure that Katie followed.
     At the cellar, Dad lifted the door up against the house. Then he climbed in and stood at the bottom, arms outstretched to Katie. She put her foot on the ladder’s top rung and reached for him. Slowly, he lowered her to the ground and then turned for her brother. Nathan had begun to cry by this time and he clung to Dad, shaking his head when Dad tried to let him down. “Nathan, let go,” Dad commanded. Nathan didn’t listen and Katie ended up having to pry his fingers away from Dad’s shirt.
    Nathan stomped his feet and screamed in protest. He only stopped when Dad began to climb back up the ladder and he realized that Dad wasn’t going to comeback for him no matter how loud he screamed.
Outside once more, Dad waved bye to them while Mom blew a kiss. Then they closed the door and Katie heard them putting a chain around the handles.
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Tuesday, March 6, 2012


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!

Monday, March 5, 2012

Seeds of Faith Prologue

Hey, by the way, I am firequeen on the starseekers website.... Oh, and please leave comments!

The seed, the prophecy
Out of the great,
the high and the arrogant,
a leader will be formed.
A nation once firm,
grounded in the highest truth,
will birth one of remembrance.
In the field of destruction,
a seed will be planted.
Struck by calamity,
and weathered by storms,
the seed will find him.
Beaten and bruised,
it will often be jostled and dropped.
But if its carriers do their part,
if they see that it survives,
it will embed deep in his heart.
If watered and tended,
it will grow and will strengthen.
With a shout of determination,
he will rip free the chains laid on his heart.
Taking on a battle cry long forgotten,
he will race forth and slay the guard.
He will tear away the blindfold of the world
and then, mayhap for the first time,
its captives will look past the broken here
and now and see the Son
burning within him;
Ready to free all who call on His name.
       Such a silly thing to be afraid of; those few words on paper. The words can’t attack or kill yet an entire army searches for their source. Leads me to wonder why they don’t take some other words to heart. The words of prophets centuries ago seem to hold more weight to me than those written only a couple of years before now.
      For whatever the reason, the Liberator’s believe the words of the Prophecy or at least believe that they have some power. Ever sense they discovered the writing they have sought for the writer and the one it describes as “a leader”. So far, their search has not been fruitful.
      Yes, Liberator is what they call themselves. They say it’s because they are “here to liberate the people of the Christian menace”. They believe that they are the “guard” the prophecy speaks of and that us Christians want to slay them and well…. they don’t really like the idea.
     Now, I can’t tell you if they are who is being spoken of, although I can tell you that some Christians do want to slay them. I don’t, but why would they believe me? This prophecy is new to me. I just recently heard of it, and from the Liberators no less. Maybe they shouldn’t be asking around about it so much as they spread it faster and farther than we ever could.
     I’m still not convinced that the Prophecy isn’t a fraud. A way for the Liberator leaders to manipulate their followers through fear of a common enemy. No one even knows who the author is, let alone whether it is real or not. Either way, it’s changed my life completely.
     If I had known what was going to happen, would I have still left my home that morning? I doubt it. At the time, I wasn’t ready for the pain I would face and most likely would have hid in my room. That’s probably one of man’s greatest problems; that when we know something will be painful, we run the other way. Jonah sure could tell you all about it. We don’t like discomfort or anything that even resembles it. So when it comes to a decision, pleasure usually wins seven times out of seven. How about I tell you my story and let you see for yourself what I mean.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

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.

Friday, March 2, 2012

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!”