--I don't have an excerpt to post right now; all I've been writing is poetry. : P
What I wanted to say was: if any of you have any stories that need editing, or you just want some feedback on it, I'd be happy to do so. : ) I've been searching for more books at my library to read, and for some reason I can't find anything to interest me. But when I read through here, I noted that everything sounded like something I'd want to read.
So...yes! If any of you want someone to give feedback or anything on a story of yours, I'd be happy to oblige. ; )
Friday, June 22, 2012
Monday, June 4, 2012
Chapter 1
I am not sure what I am going to call this novel. But here is the the first chapter:
Chapter 1
Sudan. Friday, May 12, 4:32 A.M.
The blades of the helicopter conveyed a whoosh noise with each pass. Jake stared at Commander Blake with his sky-blue eyes.
“We are nearing our destination,” the commander said. “Our mission is to rescue scientist Albert Welsh.” The commander pulled up a picture of the scientist on the large computer screen. He looked to be around fifty. The white frizzled hair, droopy eyelids, and small spectacle glasses said it all. This guy was defiantly a scientist.
“He was kidnapped by a group of terrorists. We haven’t had any communication with Mr. Welsh or the terrorists. Also.” The commander pulled up a second picture. This one of a younger man. “I am sure you recognize this picture. This is Agent Andrew Terry. We sent him in to do a brief scout. His cover was a delivery man. Either his cover was blown and his real identity figured out, or he has turned rogue. If you see him communicate with the terrorists at any point, shoot on target. So get in, get Mr. Welsh and get out. Do not engage unless fires upon. Any questions?”
It was all straight forward for Jake. Another rescue mission, he was getting used to them. They had completed five as a group, but Jake had done some before joining the SATG.
“Then,” Commander Blake continued, “prepare for drop off.”
Jake looked over his six foot frame. His black outfit contained several different gadgets and gizmos. All of which were necessary. He pulled a black helmet over his head. Each helmet acted as a walkie-talkie with its talk button stuck. Anything anyone in the group said would be heard.
He strapped on his parachute.
Each of his comrades did the same. Jake looked at each. Agents Richard, Philip, and Harry. They were a group of five with Agent Terry.
He couldn’t believe that Agent Terry would go rogue on them. He must have been captured. If he had been Jake vowed that he would find and rescue him.
“You have three hours.” The commander reminded. “I will watch from up here. If I don’t get the signal by then I’ll expect the worse.” Commander Blake’s strong face shifted to a softer expression. “Be careful,” he said.
The helicopter door opened and Jake leapt out.
[***]
Jake felt his stomach shove up against his throat. It was unpleasant, but he was used to it. He watched the ground coming up fast. Jake pulled on the parachute cord.
The white fabric billowed out and into the air, though, it didn’t look white through his grainy green night-vision goggles.
His descent slowed. He could barely see the sandy terrain. Jake pulled his Springfield Professional Custom Pistol from his holster. He was ready for anything.
His feet hit the ground and Jake immediately rolled so the impact wasn’t so jarring.
He stood. Jake pointed the custom pistol around. The area was secure.
Agent Harry landed, then Agent Philip, and last Agent Richard.
Jake set his pistol lightly back into it’s case on his hip. He pulled a M4 Carbine from his back.
“Harry, how far are we from the terrorist compound?” Jake asked.
“I would estimate about three miles east from there.” Harry was the SATG’s technology guy.
SATG was the abbreviation for Secret Anti Terrorist Group. They had been established by the President of the United States himself, to, in his words “Fight against the evil ploys of terrorism.”
“Let’s move out,” Agent Philip said his voice echoing in Jake‘s helmet. “Once we get within a mile we will slow to a jog.” Philip was the SATG’s leader. Jake, Agent Terry, and Agent Richard were the guys with the guns. They were the most advanced of all in their hand to hand combat.
Jake was the youngest member of the SATG. It was an honor to be asked to join at such a young age. Jake was twenty-six. Only the most advanced in martial arts were asked. Hence why there were only five members.
The SATG was only known by a select few people. If the terrorist expected someone to rescue Welsh they might think that it would be a full scale operation. But a group of four agents would go unnoticed.
Jake didn’t breathe hard. Not even with the extra pounds of gear he carried. He had been trained for this.
“Okay,” Agent Philip‘s voice rang in Jake‘s ears. “See those trees? Just beyond them is the compound. According to research there’s a high metal fence. We’ll cut through that then enter the compound through a back entrance. Soon as we enter, I’ll secure the room. Then I’ll lead to the prison cells. Watch your footing and don’t trip over anything.”
Agent Philip gave a hand gesture signaling them to move out.
[***]
The group silently entered the surrounding trees. Jake watched his every step. Just a single snap of a twig could signal the guards.
Not long after, the trees thinned and the compound could be seen. It looked like a normal abandoned factory, except for the watch towers, guards, and the tall metal fence. There were several buildings all seeming to be attached to one another. Every building was one story except for the very middle. The biggest building of them all rose up to three stories tall.
Jake removed a pair of wire cutters. He and Agent Richard set to work. They snapped, snipped, and sliced the thick metal wire.
A looming hole soon stood before them. Agent Philip entered first. He was the only one who knew where the back entrance was. Agent Harry followed, then Agent Richard, and last Jake came through. He pulled the wire circle he had cut out back in place. It looked again like a whole.
Jake clutched his M4 Carbine like a newborn babe. It was no babe, though. The carbine was upgraded to the max. Night vision scope, silencer, and an extended (handle???). It was every agent’s dream.
The group had stopped, knowing that the guards were on duty. There were two towers close enough to where the terrorist would be able to spot them. The first was all metal and had a longer walking distance to go back and forth. The second was built completely from wood and looked newly constructed.
“Once both guards are turning away from us, we run.” Agent Philip’s voice sang inside Jake’s helmet.
He waited tense. Jake constantly turned his head from left to right, watching each guard closely. The one on the wooden watch tower was faster. He was almost on same pace as the other guard. He came back looked around then turned. Walk. Turn. Walk. Turn. The cycle continued.
“Now,” Agent Philip said.
Jake half ran half walked, trying to stay as silent as possible. The first building, of many, they came to had a metal door on its backside. It looked like any other door, but getting it open could separate success from utter failure.
A small mechanism was attached to the wall beside the door. It appeared to be just a simple breaker box. Opening it proved an entirely different scenario. A high-tech touch screen was concealed behind the lid, asking for a password.
Agent Harry held a small, wireless, device very close to it. Jake noticed a small keyboard had also popped out from the box. The wireless device Harry held searched for any possible password.
Jake looked back at the guards. At any moment, they could spot the group trying to break in.
That was their problem. Trying.
“Hurry up,” he heard Agent Harry mutter.
“It doesn’t usually take this long,” Agent Richard expressed.
The guard on the metal watch tower stopped his normal round. He was staring right at them. Jake watched the man pull a walkie-talkie from his belt. He held it up to his lips.
“Ah, guys? I think we’ve been spotted.”
Chapter 1
Sudan. Friday, May 12, 4:32 A.M.
The blades of the helicopter conveyed a whoosh noise with each pass. Jake stared at Commander Blake with his sky-blue eyes.
“We are nearing our destination,” the commander said. “Our mission is to rescue scientist Albert Welsh.” The commander pulled up a picture of the scientist on the large computer screen. He looked to be around fifty. The white frizzled hair, droopy eyelids, and small spectacle glasses said it all. This guy was defiantly a scientist.
“He was kidnapped by a group of terrorists. We haven’t had any communication with Mr. Welsh or the terrorists. Also.” The commander pulled up a second picture. This one of a younger man. “I am sure you recognize this picture. This is Agent Andrew Terry. We sent him in to do a brief scout. His cover was a delivery man. Either his cover was blown and his real identity figured out, or he has turned rogue. If you see him communicate with the terrorists at any point, shoot on target. So get in, get Mr. Welsh and get out. Do not engage unless fires upon. Any questions?”
It was all straight forward for Jake. Another rescue mission, he was getting used to them. They had completed five as a group, but Jake had done some before joining the SATG.
“Then,” Commander Blake continued, “prepare for drop off.”
Jake looked over his six foot frame. His black outfit contained several different gadgets and gizmos. All of which were necessary. He pulled a black helmet over his head. Each helmet acted as a walkie-talkie with its talk button stuck. Anything anyone in the group said would be heard.
He strapped on his parachute.
Each of his comrades did the same. Jake looked at each. Agents Richard, Philip, and Harry. They were a group of five with Agent Terry.
He couldn’t believe that Agent Terry would go rogue on them. He must have been captured. If he had been Jake vowed that he would find and rescue him.
“You have three hours.” The commander reminded. “I will watch from up here. If I don’t get the signal by then I’ll expect the worse.” Commander Blake’s strong face shifted to a softer expression. “Be careful,” he said.
The helicopter door opened and Jake leapt out.
[***]
Jake felt his stomach shove up against his throat. It was unpleasant, but he was used to it. He watched the ground coming up fast. Jake pulled on the parachute cord.
The white fabric billowed out and into the air, though, it didn’t look white through his grainy green night-vision goggles.
His descent slowed. He could barely see the sandy terrain. Jake pulled his Springfield Professional Custom Pistol from his holster. He was ready for anything.
His feet hit the ground and Jake immediately rolled so the impact wasn’t so jarring.
He stood. Jake pointed the custom pistol around. The area was secure.
Agent Harry landed, then Agent Philip, and last Agent Richard.
Jake set his pistol lightly back into it’s case on his hip. He pulled a M4 Carbine from his back.
“Harry, how far are we from the terrorist compound?” Jake asked.
“I would estimate about three miles east from there.” Harry was the SATG’s technology guy.
SATG was the abbreviation for Secret Anti Terrorist Group. They had been established by the President of the United States himself, to, in his words “Fight against the evil ploys of terrorism.”
“Let’s move out,” Agent Philip said his voice echoing in Jake‘s helmet. “Once we get within a mile we will slow to a jog.” Philip was the SATG’s leader. Jake, Agent Terry, and Agent Richard were the guys with the guns. They were the most advanced of all in their hand to hand combat.
Jake was the youngest member of the SATG. It was an honor to be asked to join at such a young age. Jake was twenty-six. Only the most advanced in martial arts were asked. Hence why there were only five members.
The SATG was only known by a select few people. If the terrorist expected someone to rescue Welsh they might think that it would be a full scale operation. But a group of four agents would go unnoticed.
Jake didn’t breathe hard. Not even with the extra pounds of gear he carried. He had been trained for this.
“Okay,” Agent Philip‘s voice rang in Jake‘s ears. “See those trees? Just beyond them is the compound. According to research there’s a high metal fence. We’ll cut through that then enter the compound through a back entrance. Soon as we enter, I’ll secure the room. Then I’ll lead to the prison cells. Watch your footing and don’t trip over anything.”
Agent Philip gave a hand gesture signaling them to move out.
[***]
The group silently entered the surrounding trees. Jake watched his every step. Just a single snap of a twig could signal the guards.
Not long after, the trees thinned and the compound could be seen. It looked like a normal abandoned factory, except for the watch towers, guards, and the tall metal fence. There were several buildings all seeming to be attached to one another. Every building was one story except for the very middle. The biggest building of them all rose up to three stories tall.
Jake removed a pair of wire cutters. He and Agent Richard set to work. They snapped, snipped, and sliced the thick metal wire.
A looming hole soon stood before them. Agent Philip entered first. He was the only one who knew where the back entrance was. Agent Harry followed, then Agent Richard, and last Jake came through. He pulled the wire circle he had cut out back in place. It looked again like a whole.
Jake clutched his M4 Carbine like a newborn babe. It was no babe, though. The carbine was upgraded to the max. Night vision scope, silencer, and an extended (handle???). It was every agent’s dream.
The group had stopped, knowing that the guards were on duty. There were two towers close enough to where the terrorist would be able to spot them. The first was all metal and had a longer walking distance to go back and forth. The second was built completely from wood and looked newly constructed.
“Once both guards are turning away from us, we run.” Agent Philip’s voice sang inside Jake’s helmet.
He waited tense. Jake constantly turned his head from left to right, watching each guard closely. The one on the wooden watch tower was faster. He was almost on same pace as the other guard. He came back looked around then turned. Walk. Turn. Walk. Turn. The cycle continued.
“Now,” Agent Philip said.
Jake half ran half walked, trying to stay as silent as possible. The first building, of many, they came to had a metal door on its backside. It looked like any other door, but getting it open could separate success from utter failure.
A small mechanism was attached to the wall beside the door. It appeared to be just a simple breaker box. Opening it proved an entirely different scenario. A high-tech touch screen was concealed behind the lid, asking for a password.
Agent Harry held a small, wireless, device very close to it. Jake noticed a small keyboard had also popped out from the box. The wireless device Harry held searched for any possible password.
Jake looked back at the guards. At any moment, they could spot the group trying to break in.
That was their problem. Trying.
“Hurry up,” he heard Agent Harry mutter.
“It doesn’t usually take this long,” Agent Richard expressed.
The guard on the metal watch tower stopped his normal round. He was staring right at them. Jake watched the man pull a walkie-talkie from his belt. He held it up to his lips.
“Ah, guys? I think we’ve been spotted.”
-Belac
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
The Legion of Youth - Prologue
Prologue
Here is the Prologue of a story I am working on. Note: Any where you see "X" e.g. "Fort X" it means I haven't decided on a name yet. Tell me how you guys like it!!!
Jeblin Endervelt sipped ale from a steel mug as he stood upon the battlements right outside the gatehouse of Fort X. The sun was already half gone from sight as it receded beyond the horizon. It was Jeblin’s favorite time of day, for the sun was absolutely marvelous as it outlined the peaks of the Earthen Mountains on either side of the pass. It was, he thought, one of the most beautiful things in the world.
Jeblin made sure not to have more than a few more sips from his ale before setting it down on the wall. Although this was the most beautiful time of day, it was also the most dangerous. It was at this time when it was easiest for enemies to sneak up through the pass. Not only would he get in trouble, but it could be fatal to have enemies sneaking up after he had drunk too much of the brew.
Fort X was arguably the most important fort in the whole entire country of Engall. Although the Earthen Mountains (named so because of the dirt that coated its outer layer) protected most of Engall’s eastern borders from invaders, the Earthen Mountain Pass was its only weakness, if weakness is the right term. Fort X and its garrison of five thousand men could hardly be called a weakness. It sat in the middle of the pass, so it was nearly impossible for anyone to sneak by it. The fort had been here for over two hundred and fifty years, and had been refurbished three times. It had been only attacked twice, and both times it repelled its attackers with ease. It rivaled even Engall Castle in strength, though not in size.
The pass is also the only trading route into other lands in east Engall, save for the sea. Many trade caravans come in and out of Engall through the pass every day, and a specific team of soldiers checked their wares and made sure they were safe and the like.
Jeblin stared out over the grassy landscape that was the pass, and his eyes scanned the horizon for danger. He had done the routine countless times. He scanned the shadows, looking for any sign of movement. Seeing nothing, he was about to turn to his personal thoughts when a glint, like the sun upon metal, caught his eye. He reached for his sword and blinked. Nothing was there.
That was the only thing he didn’t like about this time of day. It was too easy for your mind and the shadows to play tricks on a man. One could hardly trust his senses.
He heard the sound of steel boots upon stone behind him. Turning, he saw his friend Alfred come up behind him.
“‘Ello Jeb!” Alfred said with a smile.
“Evenin’ to you to Alfred. How was gatehouse watch?” asked Jeblin, though he pretty much knew the answer.
“Just about as borin’ as ever,” replied Alfred with a shrug.
Jeblin picked up his ale mug from where he had set it down on the wall and shook hands with his friend. “I’ll see you tonight!”
Alfred replied in turn and then Jeblin jogged down the wall to the gatehouse. He knocked on the door three times, then paused, and knocked twice more. He heard the sound of several locks being undone, then the door swung open, and he was greeted by one of the other soldiers who had gatehouse watch for the night. He took a place at the other side of the large room that enclosed the wheel which if turned, would open the gate of Fort X. It took at least three men to turn it. That’s why they only kept two guards in the gatehouse, so it would lesson the chances of the gate being opened in case of a betrayal within the ranks.
The time crept along slowly, as was usual with the gatehouse shift. He managed a bit of small conversation with the other soldier on duty, but eventually they both fell silent, left with only their thoughts to keep them company. Jeblin had a little more ale, but not much. He began to think of his wife back home, and his infant daughter, whose first birthday would be within the month. His thoughts of home lulled him into a sleepy, dreamy trance.Suddenly, he heard a thump, followed by a groan. He looked up and saw the tip of a silver blade protruding from the other guard’s chest. He then fell to the ground, blood pooling even as he hit it. And standing over his body was a cloaked man, armed with a short sword.
Jeblin drew his sword and leaped over the dead guards body. While in mid air he feigned a swipe at the attackers head, then redirected it towards his left side. Jeblin was a skilled swordsman, but this attacker was beyond his skill. The cloaked man blocked his stroke and landed a hard kick on Jeblin’s chin, fracturing it. Jeblin fell onto the body of the other guard.
The cloaked attacker went in to finish Jeblin, stabbing straight for his heart. Jeblin just managed to deflect his stab to the side, so it sank in between his ribs. He cried out in pain and dropped his sword. The attacker growled and went to stab him again but a voice stopped him.
“Forget him. He’s a goner either way. Come help us with this wheel!”
The attacker reluctantly left Jeblin lying there. He tried to cry out, but his throat was getting so dry he couldn’t speak. His vision began to go black at the edges. He managed to turn on his side towards the attackers. The last thing he saw before all went dark was three people, two cloaked men and one in the livery of Engall turning the massive wheel to open the gate.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
The Night Phoenix - Chapter One, Part Two
Viggo hesitated, shooting a quick glance
at Rowan. The shapeshifter was standing motionless, his bright, copper-colored
hair tousled and messy. He looked remarkably like a young man who had just
gotten out of bed—not dangerous at all.
“Both of you put your hands up. Now!” snapped the tall man. “Or me and Ron here will shoot you right off.”
Ron was as short and stocky as the other man was tall and thin. He swallowed and shifted from foot to foot. “Zeke, maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Shut up!” Zeke didn’t look over at his comrade as he spoke; he kept his eyes on Viggo, who was watching the exchange with one eyebrow higher than the other.
“But Zeke, we’re already gonna be in trouble for kidnapping the girl…”
As Ron continued to complain—and Zeke continued to ignore him—Viggo shifted his gaze to the fireplace behind the kidnappers. Aelfcynn was still there, standing in a half-crouch. Her fingers twitched with pent-up energy and adrenaline—though she was in human form, her behavior reminded Viggo of a wolf getting ready to ambush its prey.
“All right, we’ll just shoot them and bury the bodies. No one will ever know!” Zeke snapped, interrupting Ron.
Viggo turned his gaze sharply back onto Zeke. The man slid the hammer back on his revolver, aiming at the spot where Viggo’s heart was.
“Anois, Aelfcynn! Now!” Rowan shouted.
Viggo threw himself to the ground, just as Zeke fired. The bullet whispered past Viggo’s head a millisecond later.
Aelfcynn had darted out of the fireplace and wrapped her arms around Zeke’s head in a chokehold, throwing off his aim. He was screaming curses now.
Ron lunged for the door, dropping his gun. Viggo jumped up and dodged in front of Ron, cutting off his escape. Ron stared at him with eyes that were wide with disbelief.
“Just do what I say, and you won’t get hurt,” Viggo asserted.
Ron yanked something out of his jacket pocket. It was a knife encased in a leather sheath, which he threw down immediately.
Viggo leapt forward, seizing Ron’s arm before he could move and twisting it sharply backwards.
He didn’t break any bones, but the man screamed just the same and the knife clattered harmlessly away across the ground. Rowan sprang forward and picked the knife up, pushing it safely into the pocket of his jeans.
Viggo released Ron’s arm, and then sent three quick punches at him. Ron crashed to the floor and did not move.
Viggo ran towards the corner of the room and retrieved his gun. Then he turned around, ready to defend himself from Zeke.
He need not have worried. Aelfcynn’s chokehold had restricted Zeke’s breathing for so long, he had blacked out. She let him drop to the floor with a loud thud.
“Thanks,” Viggo said, addressing both Rowan and Aelfcynn. “I swear, you guys are absolutely amazing.”
“You’re welcome,” Rowan said, grinning happily at the praise.
“It’s about time you admitted our superiority. Or mine, anyway,” Aelfcynn replied, crossing her arms with a smirk.
Viggo laughed quietly, and then looked down at the limp forms of the kidnappers. “We probably should have asked one of them where Connie was.”
“We can find her easily enough,” Aelfcynn countered. “This cabin isn’t all that big.”
“She’s right.” Rowan nodded. “We’ll stay in human form for now, so we can open doors and other things like that.”
“All right,” Viggo said. He went over to the door, where he had dropped his duffel bag, and rummaged around in it for a minute. He pulled out a coil of rope and tossed it onto the ground next to the unconscious kidnappers. “First, though, tie those guys up. I’ll start searching for Connie.”
Aelfcynn and Rowan busied themselves with the task of tying the men up, while Viggo walked down the hallway, opening doors and peering into the rooms behind them.
When he was sure that there was no sign of the kidnapped girl downstairs, Viggo turned around and headed back to the staircase. Before climbing up the steps, he saw that Aelfcynn and Rowan were just finishing tying knots in the rope.
A door was ajar on the second floor. Viggo moved towards it with a silent tread, and looked inside the room.
One glance told him all that he needed to know. A girl who looked as though she was about six years old sat on the bed, blindfolded. Her hands were tied behind her back.
Viggo’s fists clenched at his side, and he fleetingly wished that he had roughed up the kidnappers more than he had.
As he moved forward, Connie shrank back against the headboard of the bed. Why wouldn’t she? She couldn’t see who was coming. For all she knew, it was the kidnappers again.
“It’s all right,” Viggo said, talking in the same tone of voice he would use to soothe a trapped animal. “I’m a friend.”
Connie did not seem to be convinced. She pressed herself harder against the headboard, as though she could disappear into the walls if she did so.
Viggo took out his knife. He tried hard to keep it quiet, but it gave a metallic clink when he took it from its sheath. The girl, panicking, tried to jump off of the bed.
Viggo lunged forward and took her by the arm. “Wait a minute, Connie. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help you.”
Connie froze, not moving as he cut her bonds. Once he finished, Viggo reached up and gently pulled the blindfold away. “There you are. You’ll be back home in no time at all.”
Connie stared at him. He gave her a reassuring smile, quite aware of the fact that he was dirty from spending all night in the woods and had blood on his face from where the kidnapper had punched him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she thought I was some sort of man out of a nightmare or something, he thought wryly.
Connie blinked a few times. Her eyes began to grow misty, and her lower lip trembled.
Viggo frowned. “Hey, don’t cry,” he pleaded. “Everything’s okay now.”
Despite his efforts, tears started to roll down the little girl’s cheeks.
“Oh…no, don’t…” Viggo murmured, sighing. Without thinking twice, he moved forward and put his arms around Connie. “No, don’t cry, please. Calm down…no one’s going to hurt you now,” he whispered, gently pulling her onto his lap.
The little girl managed to get out something about being ‘so scared’ and ‘wanting Mama and Daddy’ in between her sobs. She buried her head in Viggo’s black coat.
Viggo absentmindedly stroked Connie’s hair, trying to soothe her and decide how he would get her home. Town was a three-hour drive away, and Viggo had parked his car about a mile from the cabin.
Eventually, Viggo got Connie to settle down; she had fallen asleep, her head resting on his shoulder.
Poor kid’s worn out, Viggo thought, picking Connie up and heading back down the stairs.
When he got downstairs, he saw Aelfcynn and Rowan standing by the tied-up kidnappers, vigilantly keeping watch while they waited for him to come back. They looked up as Viggo entered the living room.
“All right, come on, you two,” Viggo said, shifting the little girl to his other arm. “Let’s get out of these woods and back to town. Then I’ll call the police and have them come and arrest these guys.”
Aelfcynn and Rowan both nodded. They left the house, talking quietly to each other. Viggo followed them, using his foot to pull the front door of the cabin shut behind him.
--
Sorry it was so long!
“Both of you put your hands up. Now!” snapped the tall man. “Or me and Ron here will shoot you right off.”
Ron was as short and stocky as the other man was tall and thin. He swallowed and shifted from foot to foot. “Zeke, maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Shut up!” Zeke didn’t look over at his comrade as he spoke; he kept his eyes on Viggo, who was watching the exchange with one eyebrow higher than the other.
“But Zeke, we’re already gonna be in trouble for kidnapping the girl…”
As Ron continued to complain—and Zeke continued to ignore him—Viggo shifted his gaze to the fireplace behind the kidnappers. Aelfcynn was still there, standing in a half-crouch. Her fingers twitched with pent-up energy and adrenaline—though she was in human form, her behavior reminded Viggo of a wolf getting ready to ambush its prey.
“All right, we’ll just shoot them and bury the bodies. No one will ever know!” Zeke snapped, interrupting Ron.
Viggo turned his gaze sharply back onto Zeke. The man slid the hammer back on his revolver, aiming at the spot where Viggo’s heart was.
“Anois, Aelfcynn! Now!” Rowan shouted.
Viggo threw himself to the ground, just as Zeke fired. The bullet whispered past Viggo’s head a millisecond later.
Aelfcynn had darted out of the fireplace and wrapped her arms around Zeke’s head in a chokehold, throwing off his aim. He was screaming curses now.
Ron lunged for the door, dropping his gun. Viggo jumped up and dodged in front of Ron, cutting off his escape. Ron stared at him with eyes that were wide with disbelief.
“Just do what I say, and you won’t get hurt,” Viggo asserted.
Ron yanked something out of his jacket pocket. It was a knife encased in a leather sheath, which he threw down immediately.
Viggo leapt forward, seizing Ron’s arm before he could move and twisting it sharply backwards.
He didn’t break any bones, but the man screamed just the same and the knife clattered harmlessly away across the ground. Rowan sprang forward and picked the knife up, pushing it safely into the pocket of his jeans.
Viggo released Ron’s arm, and then sent three quick punches at him. Ron crashed to the floor and did not move.
Viggo ran towards the corner of the room and retrieved his gun. Then he turned around, ready to defend himself from Zeke.
He need not have worried. Aelfcynn’s chokehold had restricted Zeke’s breathing for so long, he had blacked out. She let him drop to the floor with a loud thud.
“Thanks,” Viggo said, addressing both Rowan and Aelfcynn. “I swear, you guys are absolutely amazing.”
“You’re welcome,” Rowan said, grinning happily at the praise.
“It’s about time you admitted our superiority. Or mine, anyway,” Aelfcynn replied, crossing her arms with a smirk.
Viggo laughed quietly, and then looked down at the limp forms of the kidnappers. “We probably should have asked one of them where Connie was.”
“We can find her easily enough,” Aelfcynn countered. “This cabin isn’t all that big.”
“She’s right.” Rowan nodded. “We’ll stay in human form for now, so we can open doors and other things like that.”
“All right,” Viggo said. He went over to the door, where he had dropped his duffel bag, and rummaged around in it for a minute. He pulled out a coil of rope and tossed it onto the ground next to the unconscious kidnappers. “First, though, tie those guys up. I’ll start searching for Connie.”
Aelfcynn and Rowan busied themselves with the task of tying the men up, while Viggo walked down the hallway, opening doors and peering into the rooms behind them.
When he was sure that there was no sign of the kidnapped girl downstairs, Viggo turned around and headed back to the staircase. Before climbing up the steps, he saw that Aelfcynn and Rowan were just finishing tying knots in the rope.
A door was ajar on the second floor. Viggo moved towards it with a silent tread, and looked inside the room.
One glance told him all that he needed to know. A girl who looked as though she was about six years old sat on the bed, blindfolded. Her hands were tied behind her back.
Viggo’s fists clenched at his side, and he fleetingly wished that he had roughed up the kidnappers more than he had.
As he moved forward, Connie shrank back against the headboard of the bed. Why wouldn’t she? She couldn’t see who was coming. For all she knew, it was the kidnappers again.
“It’s all right,” Viggo said, talking in the same tone of voice he would use to soothe a trapped animal. “I’m a friend.”
Connie did not seem to be convinced. She pressed herself harder against the headboard, as though she could disappear into the walls if she did so.
Viggo took out his knife. He tried hard to keep it quiet, but it gave a metallic clink when he took it from its sheath. The girl, panicking, tried to jump off of the bed.
Viggo lunged forward and took her by the arm. “Wait a minute, Connie. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help you.”
Connie froze, not moving as he cut her bonds. Once he finished, Viggo reached up and gently pulled the blindfold away. “There you are. You’ll be back home in no time at all.”
Connie stared at him. He gave her a reassuring smile, quite aware of the fact that he was dirty from spending all night in the woods and had blood on his face from where the kidnapper had punched him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she thought I was some sort of man out of a nightmare or something, he thought wryly.
Connie blinked a few times. Her eyes began to grow misty, and her lower lip trembled.
Viggo frowned. “Hey, don’t cry,” he pleaded. “Everything’s okay now.”
Despite his efforts, tears started to roll down the little girl’s cheeks.
“Oh…no, don’t…” Viggo murmured, sighing. Without thinking twice, he moved forward and put his arms around Connie. “No, don’t cry, please. Calm down…no one’s going to hurt you now,” he whispered, gently pulling her onto his lap.
The little girl managed to get out something about being ‘so scared’ and ‘wanting Mama and Daddy’ in between her sobs. She buried her head in Viggo’s black coat.
Viggo absentmindedly stroked Connie’s hair, trying to soothe her and decide how he would get her home. Town was a three-hour drive away, and Viggo had parked his car about a mile from the cabin.
Eventually, Viggo got Connie to settle down; she had fallen asleep, her head resting on his shoulder.
Poor kid’s worn out, Viggo thought, picking Connie up and heading back down the stairs.
When he got downstairs, he saw Aelfcynn and Rowan standing by the tied-up kidnappers, vigilantly keeping watch while they waited for him to come back. They looked up as Viggo entered the living room.
“All right, come on, you two,” Viggo said, shifting the little girl to his other arm. “Let’s get out of these woods and back to town. Then I’ll call the police and have them come and arrest these guys.”
Aelfcynn and Rowan both nodded. They left the house, talking quietly to each other. Viggo followed them, using his foot to pull the front door of the cabin shut behind him.
--
Sorry it was so long!
The Night Phoenix - Chapter One, Part One
Hi, all. I'm new here...this is a chapter out of my novel I just edited this morning, so I'd like some input on it. I had to put it in two parts, since it's kind of long. Let me know what you think! : )
--
A cold, gray mist had fallen over the forest. The sun was just beginning to rise, a pale pink glow on the far horizon. At first glance, it seemed as though there was no life in the woods. A few birds and animals, perhaps, but nothing else.
But there were other things hidden in the undergrowth.
Viggo Steele slowly sat up, stretching to ease the kinks out of his muscles. Leaves were caught in his hair. He winced. Unsurprisingly, staking out forest cabins all night long tended to make his body stiff.
“I’m getting too old for this, Aelf,” he muttered, turning his gaze back to the cabin that he had been watching the night before.
Aelfcynn was one of Viggo’s two companions. Currently, she was in the form of a pure white wolf, but that was apt to change, seeing as she was a shapeshifter. Rowan, Viggo’s second companion, was in the shape of a rusty red fox. Both of them rarely left his side.
Shapeshifters weren’t exactly what one would call typical companions for a man living in the modern times. Then again, Viggo wasn't exactly someone who could be called normal.
He wished he was normal. In his thirty-three years on earth, he had already encountered several magical beings. He had seen most of those beings in Ireland, which was where he had met Aelfcynn and Rowan.
He had saved them from an evil sorcerer, and now they were wholeheartedly convinced that they owed Viggo a life debt. No matter how hard he tried, Viggo could not dissuade them from thinking in that way, which meant he was stuck with them. The truth was, however, that he did not really mind—he enjoyed their company.
Aelfcynn shook her head. “No, you’re not too old,” she replied. “Now, come on. We need to enter the cabin before the sun rises completely; the element of surprise will be much stronger.”
Viggo nodded, knowing that his friend was right. He pushed his shoulder-length hair away from his face, and began to creep down the slope. Along the way, plenty of cover was provided for them from the trees and boulders.
Viggo did not stop moving until he reached the bottom of the slope. When he did, he accidentally stumbled, and a stick cracked underneath his foot.
Viggo froze, holding his breath. No one came out of the cabin to investigate. I guess it wasn’t as loud as it sounded…
Rowan nudged Viggo in the back of the leg. “Go on, then! The coast is clear!”
Viggo glanced back at his two companions, and then continued moving. He tried hard to keep his steps light, but spending all night in the cold watching the cabin had taken its toll, and every muscle in his body was sore.
Every time a twig snapped underfoot, Viggo cringed. But no one ever appeared at the windows or door of the abandoned cabin.
Even so, Viggo was relieved when he reached the front door. He waited a moment, and then slowly tested the doorknob. The door was locked.
“Why is there no guard?” whispered Rowan.
"Tú amadán!" Aelfcynn scoffed, using her first language--Irish. "They’re probably asleep. Even if they’re not, they didn’t expect anyone to follow them." Aelfcynn's pointed ears twitched.
Viggo ignored them, fiddling with the lock picking tools he had stored in his duffel bag. He chose one and inserted it into the lock.
Within seconds, there was a faint click. Viggo felt a hint of satisfaction that he had picked the lock in such short time. Well, I’ve had enough practice with it, I guess.
“One of you go around to the window and make sure no one’s keeping guard,” Viggo whispered.
Rowan nodded, and, in a pale shimmer of light and mist, shifted into the form of a sparrow. He took flight, darting around the corner of the cabin.
Viggo waited, tensely rubbing his palms together—partly to warm them, and partly because of his agitation. With every moment that passed, he was sure that Rowan had been killed somehow. There were plenty of creatures in the forest that would not hesitate to hunt down a bird to eat.
Just as Viggo was about to go search for Rowan, the shapeshifter came around the corner, and transformed into the shape of a fox. “It’s clear,” he reported.
Viggo silently turned the knob and crept inside, leaving the door open. As Rowan had said, the room and hallway he entered were empty.
Too empty. There were a few pieces of furniture covered with dusty sheets, but no humans in sight. It was impossible that the kidnappers were that stupid. Viggo started to search the room for any sign of the kidnapped girl he was supposed to save, taking care not to make any loud noises.
As he methodically investigated the room, Viggo contemplated the reason he had agreed to take this job. He was always willing to take a job that would help a young person. He felt protective of all children, and was more than ready to help them—even for free, if the need arose. It was what he wished someone would have done for him when he was young…someone to stand up against his abusive father.
Shaking his head to rid himself of the memories, Viggo returned to the task at hand.
At length, it was clear that there was nothing to see in the living room, which was where he now was. Frustrated, he turned to go down the hallway to explore the rest of the cabin.
“Viggo! Look out!”
Aelfcynn’s cry of warning came not a moment too soon. Viggo instinctively dived behind a dusty couch. Gunshots split the air.
The kidnappers had been waiting after all. Perhaps they had expected a rescuer to come for the girl; perhaps they had heard him. Either way, it was too late now.
Viggo yanked his own revolver out of its shoulder-strap holster. He waited for the shooting to pause, and then jerked upright, firing off three shots of his own.
There were three of the kidnappers, and they all scattered. One of them dodged back into the room they had appeared from, and the other two shoved over a table to use as a defense.
Viggo fired once more, and then ducked back down as the two kidnappers shot back.
While he waited for the guns to fall silent, Viggo did two things. He reloaded his revolver, and looked around for his two companions.
At first, he didn’t see them. Then he noticed them—they had shifted into their human forms, and were crouched inside the fireplace to take shelter from the flying bullets. The kidnappers hadn’t noticed them yet.
Abruptly, his enemies’ guns fell silent. Viggo waited, unsure of what was going to happen next.
Before he could decide on his next move, someone lunged around the corner of the couch and tackled Viggo to the ground. Viggo’s revolver clattered across the floor.
The kidnapper still had his handgun, however. Viggo focused on keeping it pointed somewhere else besides his head. The kidnapper had him pinned down and was repeatedly punching him in the face, making it hard for Viggo to keep a grip on the hand that held the gun.
Viggo lost his grasp on the kidnapper’s arm. Just as the thought entered his head that he might die, there was a challenging yell. Someone rammed into the kidnapper from the side, knocking him to the ground and thus freeing Viggo.
Viggo stumbled to his feet. The kidnapper had been bowled over by Rowan—the shapeshifter was still in human form. Viggo kicked the man’s gun away, and then turned to see how Rowan was faring.
Rowan had slammed the man’s head into the floor with deadly accuracy, with enough force to render him unconscious, but not enough to kill him.
Reassured that Rowan was safe for the moment, Viggo began to turn around. When he did, he saw that one of the kidnappers had their guns trained on him. The other one was focused on Rowan.
“Hands up,” commanded the man watching Viggo. He was a tall fellow; and, when Viggo looked closer, he saw that the man was missing part of his earlobe. “Both of you.”
--
A cold, gray mist had fallen over the forest. The sun was just beginning to rise, a pale pink glow on the far horizon. At first glance, it seemed as though there was no life in the woods. A few birds and animals, perhaps, but nothing else.
But there were other things hidden in the undergrowth.
Viggo Steele slowly sat up, stretching to ease the kinks out of his muscles. Leaves were caught in his hair. He winced. Unsurprisingly, staking out forest cabins all night long tended to make his body stiff.
“I’m getting too old for this, Aelf,” he muttered, turning his gaze back to the cabin that he had been watching the night before.
Aelfcynn was one of Viggo’s two companions. Currently, she was in the form of a pure white wolf, but that was apt to change, seeing as she was a shapeshifter. Rowan, Viggo’s second companion, was in the shape of a rusty red fox. Both of them rarely left his side.
Shapeshifters weren’t exactly what one would call typical companions for a man living in the modern times. Then again, Viggo wasn't exactly someone who could be called normal.
He wished he was normal. In his thirty-three years on earth, he had already encountered several magical beings. He had seen most of those beings in Ireland, which was where he had met Aelfcynn and Rowan.
He had saved them from an evil sorcerer, and now they were wholeheartedly convinced that they owed Viggo a life debt. No matter how hard he tried, Viggo could not dissuade them from thinking in that way, which meant he was stuck with them. The truth was, however, that he did not really mind—he enjoyed their company.
Aelfcynn shook her head. “No, you’re not too old,” she replied. “Now, come on. We need to enter the cabin before the sun rises completely; the element of surprise will be much stronger.”
Viggo nodded, knowing that his friend was right. He pushed his shoulder-length hair away from his face, and began to creep down the slope. Along the way, plenty of cover was provided for them from the trees and boulders.
Viggo did not stop moving until he reached the bottom of the slope. When he did, he accidentally stumbled, and a stick cracked underneath his foot.
Viggo froze, holding his breath. No one came out of the cabin to investigate. I guess it wasn’t as loud as it sounded…
Rowan nudged Viggo in the back of the leg. “Go on, then! The coast is clear!”
Viggo glanced back at his two companions, and then continued moving. He tried hard to keep his steps light, but spending all night in the cold watching the cabin had taken its toll, and every muscle in his body was sore.
Every time a twig snapped underfoot, Viggo cringed. But no one ever appeared at the windows or door of the abandoned cabin.
Even so, Viggo was relieved when he reached the front door. He waited a moment, and then slowly tested the doorknob. The door was locked.
“Why is there no guard?” whispered Rowan.
"Tú amadán!" Aelfcynn scoffed, using her first language--Irish. "They’re probably asleep. Even if they’re not, they didn’t expect anyone to follow them." Aelfcynn's pointed ears twitched.
Viggo ignored them, fiddling with the lock picking tools he had stored in his duffel bag. He chose one and inserted it into the lock.
Within seconds, there was a faint click. Viggo felt a hint of satisfaction that he had picked the lock in such short time. Well, I’ve had enough practice with it, I guess.
“One of you go around to the window and make sure no one’s keeping guard,” Viggo whispered.
Rowan nodded, and, in a pale shimmer of light and mist, shifted into the form of a sparrow. He took flight, darting around the corner of the cabin.
Viggo waited, tensely rubbing his palms together—partly to warm them, and partly because of his agitation. With every moment that passed, he was sure that Rowan had been killed somehow. There were plenty of creatures in the forest that would not hesitate to hunt down a bird to eat.
Just as Viggo was about to go search for Rowan, the shapeshifter came around the corner, and transformed into the shape of a fox. “It’s clear,” he reported.
Viggo silently turned the knob and crept inside, leaving the door open. As Rowan had said, the room and hallway he entered were empty.
Too empty. There were a few pieces of furniture covered with dusty sheets, but no humans in sight. It was impossible that the kidnappers were that stupid. Viggo started to search the room for any sign of the kidnapped girl he was supposed to save, taking care not to make any loud noises.
As he methodically investigated the room, Viggo contemplated the reason he had agreed to take this job. He was always willing to take a job that would help a young person. He felt protective of all children, and was more than ready to help them—even for free, if the need arose. It was what he wished someone would have done for him when he was young…someone to stand up against his abusive father.
Shaking his head to rid himself of the memories, Viggo returned to the task at hand.
At length, it was clear that there was nothing to see in the living room, which was where he now was. Frustrated, he turned to go down the hallway to explore the rest of the cabin.
“Viggo! Look out!”
Aelfcynn’s cry of warning came not a moment too soon. Viggo instinctively dived behind a dusty couch. Gunshots split the air.
The kidnappers had been waiting after all. Perhaps they had expected a rescuer to come for the girl; perhaps they had heard him. Either way, it was too late now.
Viggo yanked his own revolver out of its shoulder-strap holster. He waited for the shooting to pause, and then jerked upright, firing off three shots of his own.
There were three of the kidnappers, and they all scattered. One of them dodged back into the room they had appeared from, and the other two shoved over a table to use as a defense.
Viggo fired once more, and then ducked back down as the two kidnappers shot back.
While he waited for the guns to fall silent, Viggo did two things. He reloaded his revolver, and looked around for his two companions.
At first, he didn’t see them. Then he noticed them—they had shifted into their human forms, and were crouched inside the fireplace to take shelter from the flying bullets. The kidnappers hadn’t noticed them yet.
Abruptly, his enemies’ guns fell silent. Viggo waited, unsure of what was going to happen next.
Before he could decide on his next move, someone lunged around the corner of the couch and tackled Viggo to the ground. Viggo’s revolver clattered across the floor.
The kidnapper still had his handgun, however. Viggo focused on keeping it pointed somewhere else besides his head. The kidnapper had him pinned down and was repeatedly punching him in the face, making it hard for Viggo to keep a grip on the hand that held the gun.
Viggo lost his grasp on the kidnapper’s arm. Just as the thought entered his head that he might die, there was a challenging yell. Someone rammed into the kidnapper from the side, knocking him to the ground and thus freeing Viggo.
Viggo stumbled to his feet. The kidnapper had been bowled over by Rowan—the shapeshifter was still in human form. Viggo kicked the man’s gun away, and then turned to see how Rowan was faring.
Rowan had slammed the man’s head into the floor with deadly accuracy, with enough force to render him unconscious, but not enough to kill him.
Reassured that Rowan was safe for the moment, Viggo began to turn around. When he did, he saw that one of the kidnappers had their guns trained on him. The other one was focused on Rowan.
“Hands up,” commanded the man watching Viggo. He was a tall fellow; and, when Viggo looked closer, he saw that the man was missing part of his earlobe. “Both of you.”
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
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!
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!
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)