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Cindy's Journal.
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The story without a title (at least for now)
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Mod
Quick question, did you have to rewrite the
Whole thing, or did you just transfer it?
Nope I simply copy/paste it from Word to here :) a little editing and tadaaaa
Should I post the first chapter here as well then? Maybe even chapter 2?
Should I post the first chapter here as well then? Maybe even chapter 2?
Mod
hahahaa alrighty then here we go :) Chapter 1:
Chapter One: The festival of Kagiso
Zeleny, most people referred to the country as the green land, was in a festive mood. Across the land, men and women lay down their tools, put on their brightest clothes and went to the nearest city. Every city was colourfully decorated, houses were cleaned inside and out, stalls were put outside the doors of these houses to show the goods that were for sale.
Leyna, capitol of the green land, was shining brightest of all. All gathered in that city to honour the festival of Kilgaso, a festival brought to life after the Great War, to celebrate the peace that now existed between the former rivals. Lords, merchants, farmers and common labourers feasted together, drunk, ate and celebrated as if this was the last day of peace they would share.
And everything was possible during that day. The king had declared long ago that on the day where peace and freedom were celebrated, no rules should exist and so, the festival of Kilgaso was rejoiced with full freedom... there were some however who were not so fortunate; the guards. For they had to keep order, or at least they had to try their best. For the festival brought up the best and the worst in the inhabitants. With rules declared null and void, even for a day, came allot of trouble,
An old man walked through the city’s gate. He had travelled for a long time in order to arrive here in time. Though the man had other reasons for entering Leyna on this very day was no one’s concern. He moved swift, different than one would expect from an old man. He wore a cloak of light blue wool, an aspect that marked him as an outsider, a small pack on his bag to contain the small positions he carried, today nobody cared for outsiders in their city.
How long was it since he had seen this city? The man wondered, looking up the hill, eyes following the brick road in front of him that would lead to the king’s palace.
Some men were walking down that road, probably sons and friends of the lords who had their residents up near the palace; their voices betrayed the fact that they had already had enough alcohol to forget most of the events that would occur this day. He shook his head, though a thin smile adorned his face. Before he was potted, the man walked into an alley. From complete light and colour, the man walked into a dark blackness. Slowly he moved, his hand touching the wooden wall of a house he knew would guide him to another wide street near the centre of the second circle. Once or twice he felt how cloth touched his face, just laundry hanging out to dry he guessed.
Vardan stepped into light as he left the small alley, into the open street.
As Vardan turned right to walk towards the marketplace, he saw a small boy running. The kid was wearing rags for clothes and the old man squinted his eyes. Even beggars didn’t wear such clothes, at least not in Leyna. The boy was panting but he had a broad smile on his face, which could only mean one thing; he was pestering the guards. Vardan’s thoughts were proven to be right because only a few seconds after the boy raced around one of the corners, three guards appeared on the other side of the road. All were wearing the same uniform of black with a light blue prancing horse stitched on the right shoulder, even the helmets they wore looked the same. It was an amusing sight, since one or two of them didn’t look quite right in the outfit. One of them, Vardan guessed him to be Fremont, had forgotten his sword so that the scabbard now looked silly instead of impressive. The one called Garan was wearing a slightly too big a uniform, it didn’t look right.
“This way! He cannot be far away now. Garan you follow this street, Eamon you’ll try and see if the kid took one of the passages to the left and Fremont you come with me. We need to find this little prick and take back what he stole.” The commander said. He didn’t sound that pleased, Vardan noticed, not that it was a mystery why of course. The man was probably angry about everything and everyone on this day. Wasn’t this supposed to be a joyful day?
“But Sir, what did the boy steal?” he heard one of the three guards ask with a slight tremor in his voice.
The commander turned around slowly so that he could face the guard who had spoken to him. Anger was coming from him in waves. Even though the man tried to hide it well, Vardan could always see, always feel, he simply always knew what people were feeling when he looked at them. This anger, however not really meant for the guard who had spoken, was now directed at the poor man.
“You stop thinking, Eamon. Leave the thinking to me, you’re busy enough trying NOT to mess this up for us. Do you hear me?!” in the end the commander nearly shouted his rage.
“Yes, commander Kellan.” Eamon answered softly.
“I can’t believe that I took that stupid idiot of a nephew as a novice.” The man muttered to himself as he turned away. “Now what are you all waiting for? Move it, damn you!” he added. The man called Eamon was probably not even seventeen years old, Vardan noted.
He shook his head but when he tried to walk away he was stopped by the sound of a low voice.
“You, old man. Have you seen a boy? Small, pesky, dark haired?” the guard asked him. He had come his way so this probably was the man called Garan.
“No.” Vardan answered, his voice strained, his sharp eyes on the man in front of him. He didn’t like it to be called ‘old’. Maybe he looked that way now, but still... it hurt.
The guard mumbled something about elderly people, then started to walk down the street. The boy was probably long gone by now, Vardan thought, already turning into the direction he had wanted to leave in some minutes ago. However he was stopped when he heard a soft noise behind him. Looking over his shoulder, the small boy standing there. A small package was kept close to his chest, like he was protecting it somehow, a haunted look crossed the boys face when he heard the voice of the commander of the guards.
“Thank you, for not speaking of me.” The boy whispered and he bowed, as was custom, a sign of respect to the elders in the city. There was a glimmer in the eyes of the boy when he looked up at Vardan however. As if... he knew... no, that couldn’t be so, Vardan thought, dismissing the thought right after it came to mind.
“If you’d come with me, dear sir, I could do you a favour in return.”
“What are you talking about? Aren’t you a little young for thief training my small friend?” Vardan spoke so soft only the boy could hear his words. He was well aware of the thief guild stationed in the darkest part of the bright city, even there the light never touched the blackened, fire eaten stones, or so commoners had assured him long ago.
“I seem young, you seem old. Both tricks learned by time. Come Vardan, there is no time to lose.” Suddenly the boy’s voice didn’t sound that young anymore and the shape in front of his eyes started to blur. Vardan took a sharp breath, and then grumbled something about youngsters.
“Fine then. But on one condition.”
“What condition?” the man in front of Vardan now asked. His voice had a hint of humour in it, his green eyes were smiling. The man in front of him had no resemblance to the boy. This man was tall, well muscled, his hair was red and when he smiled small lines appeared around his eyes. Though his eyes laughed, a scar crossed his cheek from eye to mouth.
“You will not do anything else to mess up this day of celebration for the people, Ottokar.”
The expression of Ottokar darkened. “It will not be up to me.”
“What are you talking about?” Vardan asked, anger slowly rising inside him, though he could keep Ottokar from sensing the shift of emotion inside him.
“Words reached me that the Kasch are ready to march again.”
“Word is spreading fast.” Someone out of the hundreds of men and women gathered finally spoke. His voice carried through the long hallway of the castle they had assembled in. There was a surety in his voice that could make everyone believe every word he spoke. Vardan knew him well. He had fought beside that man time and again, never had he wavered, neither would he know.
“The Kasch are retreating? Are you positive?” a woman asked, barely concealed hope surrounded her; he knew that was the question on every mind. Thought he was thinking a different question altogether.
“It doesn’t matter if they are pulling back now or in a few weeks. Another question needs answering before that.” Vardan spoke. Again the image of the burned bodies appeared before his eyes. This was the meeting he had been asked to join. It was held only a few days after the battle on in the high mountains.
“What?! You’re out of your mind.” An angry voice replied. It was one of the survivors from the city, Vardan didn’t even try to remember his name. The man was already showing signs of the madness eating at his mind. His clothes were torn, his face bruised from where fists had met skin. It was clear to all of them that this man would not make the week.
“They need to retreat, only then will we all be safe again. Maybe we should hunt them down, kill them, rip their bodies open, desecrate them in the way they did our comrades.” Before that man could finish his words, two of the more powerful men amongst them grabbed him and started to drag him away. To where? No one knew. That was a secret known only to the ones called higher lords.
The higher lords were not to be treated without caution. They had been the ones powerful enough to contain the wraith of all Returned right after the war. Only they had been able to restore, in some cases just a tiny bit, of humanity in all of them. These high lords were the most cunning and respected of magicians.
“This will not end if we don’t butcher all of them!” his final words echoed through the grand hall where all had gathered. After it, silence ruled for a time.
“That is my question exactly. Will this be the definite end to the conflict?”
Chapter One: The festival of Kagiso
Zeleny, most people referred to the country as the green land, was in a festive mood. Across the land, men and women lay down their tools, put on their brightest clothes and went to the nearest city. Every city was colourfully decorated, houses were cleaned inside and out, stalls were put outside the doors of these houses to show the goods that were for sale.
Leyna, capitol of the green land, was shining brightest of all. All gathered in that city to honour the festival of Kilgaso, a festival brought to life after the Great War, to celebrate the peace that now existed between the former rivals. Lords, merchants, farmers and common labourers feasted together, drunk, ate and celebrated as if this was the last day of peace they would share.
And everything was possible during that day. The king had declared long ago that on the day where peace and freedom were celebrated, no rules should exist and so, the festival of Kilgaso was rejoiced with full freedom... there were some however who were not so fortunate; the guards. For they had to keep order, or at least they had to try their best. For the festival brought up the best and the worst in the inhabitants. With rules declared null and void, even for a day, came allot of trouble,
An old man walked through the city’s gate. He had travelled for a long time in order to arrive here in time. Though the man had other reasons for entering Leyna on this very day was no one’s concern. He moved swift, different than one would expect from an old man. He wore a cloak of light blue wool, an aspect that marked him as an outsider, a small pack on his bag to contain the small positions he carried, today nobody cared for outsiders in their city.
How long was it since he had seen this city? The man wondered, looking up the hill, eyes following the brick road in front of him that would lead to the king’s palace.
Some men were walking down that road, probably sons and friends of the lords who had their residents up near the palace; their voices betrayed the fact that they had already had enough alcohol to forget most of the events that would occur this day. He shook his head, though a thin smile adorned his face. Before he was potted, the man walked into an alley. From complete light and colour, the man walked into a dark blackness. Slowly he moved, his hand touching the wooden wall of a house he knew would guide him to another wide street near the centre of the second circle. Once or twice he felt how cloth touched his face, just laundry hanging out to dry he guessed.
Vardan stepped into light as he left the small alley, into the open street.
As Vardan turned right to walk towards the marketplace, he saw a small boy running. The kid was wearing rags for clothes and the old man squinted his eyes. Even beggars didn’t wear such clothes, at least not in Leyna. The boy was panting but he had a broad smile on his face, which could only mean one thing; he was pestering the guards. Vardan’s thoughts were proven to be right because only a few seconds after the boy raced around one of the corners, three guards appeared on the other side of the road. All were wearing the same uniform of black with a light blue prancing horse stitched on the right shoulder, even the helmets they wore looked the same. It was an amusing sight, since one or two of them didn’t look quite right in the outfit. One of them, Vardan guessed him to be Fremont, had forgotten his sword so that the scabbard now looked silly instead of impressive. The one called Garan was wearing a slightly too big a uniform, it didn’t look right.
“This way! He cannot be far away now. Garan you follow this street, Eamon you’ll try and see if the kid took one of the passages to the left and Fremont you come with me. We need to find this little prick and take back what he stole.” The commander said. He didn’t sound that pleased, Vardan noticed, not that it was a mystery why of course. The man was probably angry about everything and everyone on this day. Wasn’t this supposed to be a joyful day?
“But Sir, what did the boy steal?” he heard one of the three guards ask with a slight tremor in his voice.
The commander turned around slowly so that he could face the guard who had spoken to him. Anger was coming from him in waves. Even though the man tried to hide it well, Vardan could always see, always feel, he simply always knew what people were feeling when he looked at them. This anger, however not really meant for the guard who had spoken, was now directed at the poor man.
“You stop thinking, Eamon. Leave the thinking to me, you’re busy enough trying NOT to mess this up for us. Do you hear me?!” in the end the commander nearly shouted his rage.
“Yes, commander Kellan.” Eamon answered softly.
“I can’t believe that I took that stupid idiot of a nephew as a novice.” The man muttered to himself as he turned away. “Now what are you all waiting for? Move it, damn you!” he added. The man called Eamon was probably not even seventeen years old, Vardan noted.
He shook his head but when he tried to walk away he was stopped by the sound of a low voice.
“You, old man. Have you seen a boy? Small, pesky, dark haired?” the guard asked him. He had come his way so this probably was the man called Garan.
“No.” Vardan answered, his voice strained, his sharp eyes on the man in front of him. He didn’t like it to be called ‘old’. Maybe he looked that way now, but still... it hurt.
The guard mumbled something about elderly people, then started to walk down the street. The boy was probably long gone by now, Vardan thought, already turning into the direction he had wanted to leave in some minutes ago. However he was stopped when he heard a soft noise behind him. Looking over his shoulder, the small boy standing there. A small package was kept close to his chest, like he was protecting it somehow, a haunted look crossed the boys face when he heard the voice of the commander of the guards.
“Thank you, for not speaking of me.” The boy whispered and he bowed, as was custom, a sign of respect to the elders in the city. There was a glimmer in the eyes of the boy when he looked up at Vardan however. As if... he knew... no, that couldn’t be so, Vardan thought, dismissing the thought right after it came to mind.
“If you’d come with me, dear sir, I could do you a favour in return.”
“What are you talking about? Aren’t you a little young for thief training my small friend?” Vardan spoke so soft only the boy could hear his words. He was well aware of the thief guild stationed in the darkest part of the bright city, even there the light never touched the blackened, fire eaten stones, or so commoners had assured him long ago.
“I seem young, you seem old. Both tricks learned by time. Come Vardan, there is no time to lose.” Suddenly the boy’s voice didn’t sound that young anymore and the shape in front of his eyes started to blur. Vardan took a sharp breath, and then grumbled something about youngsters.
“Fine then. But on one condition.”
“What condition?” the man in front of Vardan now asked. His voice had a hint of humour in it, his green eyes were smiling. The man in front of him had no resemblance to the boy. This man was tall, well muscled, his hair was red and when he smiled small lines appeared around his eyes. Though his eyes laughed, a scar crossed his cheek from eye to mouth.
“You will not do anything else to mess up this day of celebration for the people, Ottokar.”
The expression of Ottokar darkened. “It will not be up to me.”
“What are you talking about?” Vardan asked, anger slowly rising inside him, though he could keep Ottokar from sensing the shift of emotion inside him.
“Words reached me that the Kasch are ready to march again.”
“Word is spreading fast.” Someone out of the hundreds of men and women gathered finally spoke. His voice carried through the long hallway of the castle they had assembled in. There was a surety in his voice that could make everyone believe every word he spoke. Vardan knew him well. He had fought beside that man time and again, never had he wavered, neither would he know.
“The Kasch are retreating? Are you positive?” a woman asked, barely concealed hope surrounded her; he knew that was the question on every mind. Thought he was thinking a different question altogether.
“It doesn’t matter if they are pulling back now or in a few weeks. Another question needs answering before that.” Vardan spoke. Again the image of the burned bodies appeared before his eyes. This was the meeting he had been asked to join. It was held only a few days after the battle on in the high mountains.
“What?! You’re out of your mind.” An angry voice replied. It was one of the survivors from the city, Vardan didn’t even try to remember his name. The man was already showing signs of the madness eating at his mind. His clothes were torn, his face bruised from where fists had met skin. It was clear to all of them that this man would not make the week.
“They need to retreat, only then will we all be safe again. Maybe we should hunt them down, kill them, rip their bodies open, desecrate them in the way they did our comrades.” Before that man could finish his words, two of the more powerful men amongst them grabbed him and started to drag him away. To where? No one knew. That was a secret known only to the ones called higher lords.
The higher lords were not to be treated without caution. They had been the ones powerful enough to contain the wraith of all Returned right after the war. Only they had been able to restore, in some cases just a tiny bit, of humanity in all of them. These high lords were the most cunning and respected of magicians.
“This will not end if we don’t butcher all of them!” his final words echoed through the grand hall where all had gathered. After it, silence ruled for a time.
“That is my question exactly. Will this be the definite end to the conflict?”
“Who gave you this information? You have spies among them? If so, you’re even more a fool than I thought.” Vardan growled. Now anger was slipping through, his control lessened a little and Ottokar saw the change immediately. He stepped closer, grabbing the old man by the shoulders, looking him in the eyes. Green eyes met dark ones as their presences clashed against each other. One ruled by anger, one soothing.
“Not here, Vardan. Trust me, please. Come with me.” The man begged. “This is important. What I’ve gathered today... it might get some odds in our favour.”
A presence pushed against his mind, trying to will him back into control. It succeeded, but barely.
“Fine. Lead the way.”
Ottokar took the man's arm and took him into a side passage. Again, darkness enveloped them. When Vardan wanted to ask him why, guards passed through the streets. It was the same set as before. Though the commander Kellan didn’t seem too pleased about his failure, his guards looked a little gladder with the situation.
“I am glad we didn’t find the boy.” Fremont whispered to his companion, who chuckled softly.
“As am I. Who knows how much time we would have needed to spent on the little pest if we would have found him.” Garan answered.
“Shut up! All of you. We’ve lost a price today to some insignificant little thief. Keep this feeling in mind, you’ve failed me and your king. No matter how small the damage might seem, it is definitely not. You have all fucked up! If you think you’re going to have a nice free night, FORGET IT! You’re going to have night duty, all of you!” Kellan shouted at them. Protest came up short after.
When the sound of voices dimmed to a faint whisper and the steps of the men were only felt by both men, Ottokar looked at his old friend. Though the old man disguise worked for him, he knew that his friend couldn’t make the journey in this form.
Both eyed each other, trying to figure out what the other was thinking. Though Vardan could guess what his friend wanted of him, he waited till the request was made.
Nothing but an unnatural silence hung in the alley as Ottokar spoke to him directly, “You cannot make the trip looking like that, my friend.” The inner voice spoke in his mind. A mental picture was shown to him, Vardan hissed in response.
“You promised me I would never have to go to that place again.” He spoke out loud, pain clearly noticeable in his voice. The old man closed his eyes and shook his head as the Inner spoke directly to him. “I do have a choice in this.” He protested, but without any result, they needed him as they needed any of the Returned who still lived this day.
“I am too old for this.” He commented, a faint smile now showing around his lips. While one always said he was too old, the other always expressed that he would be young forever. That was why one looked like an elderly man at times while the other ran around looking like a boy running away from his parents. It was a little private joke, made up long ago.
With a sigh, the figure of the old man started to blur and in seconds there was another man visible. The man was Ottokar’s match in height and muscle both had gained during the same experiences in their lives. But while Ottokar had red hair and a friendly expression, Vardan was dark haired, his eyes cold and nearly black, long hair into a braid on his back and a beard that had some silver rings in it. Nothing was left from the old man disguise, no brown robe covered by a light blue cloak, and no little pack on his back. In front of Ottokar stood a warrior who had been proclaimed dead long ago.
For a moment there was a silence as both assessed the situation. The two men were reluctant to go to the place they had left behind so long ago. Both were haunted by nightmares still, but they also knew that they could not escape this path the three spinsters had created for them. Then hands clasped and words were said. A disturbance in the air was the only thing that gave way to the magic that was used in that small dark alley. Then, with a flash of bright light surrounding them, the men disappeared from view.
They reached the northern mountains in a flash. Bright light surrounded them again as they came into view. Mountains tall as giants surrounded them, for they had teleported into a valley. All across the valley, small dots of stone rested that had once housed, long ago, farmer families. Now with the valley deserted it was free for magicians to use as a resting place.
Both men looked pale from the amount of magic they had used to transport themselves to this place. Neither were used to letting so much of their magic slip away in one go, it had not happened to them for years now. There had never been a reason to use this enormous amount of magic in one go, no meetings, no fights, no conflicts between the returned soldiers that needed to be dealt with after the last meeting now 326 years ago.
“Never thought I’d say this but I am getting old.” Ottokar groaned, even now a smile could be seen in his eyes.
“This is really getting to you isn’t it? I thought I was the one getting old here and that you were supposed to be the one that would stay young forever.” Vardan replied, taking a deep breath to fight the fog in his mind. How long had he not used his magic like this? The last meeting had been so long ago, after that the only time he had used this much of his powers had been to transport him to that quiet place...
“Hello, I was talking to you, you know.” Said a voice pulling him back from that peaceful memory.
“What?” Vardan said, straightening his back so that he now stood in his full height. Even though he didn’t wear armour he still was impressive to see. On both arms he wore several arm rings, from gold to silver to bronze.
“Well now that you’ve got your colour back we should be moving. From here it’s still quite a climb up that smallish hill.” Ottokar said, the last part a little sarcastically because the smallish hill was in fact a mountain that seemed to reach the sky and pierce through the clouds above, ignoring the black look his friend gave him. He was used to that by now. “We need to around it, then through the underground passage remember.” Ottokar grinned. “That’s what happens when one is young of mind, you remember things.”
“Wipe that grin of your face.” Vardan grumbled as he already walked towards the mountain top to the west of their current location. From now on no magic could be used by any who entered this sacred place. That was rule set up long before, and even if that rule wasn’t applied the magicians weren’t able to enter because in the parts around the castle they headed for, was spelled so that those with magic would lose it right there.
“No.” Ottokar said joyfully as he started to follow his friend west. Once side by side the man looked at Vardan. “Don’t think about that now, we’ll see what They want when we get there.”
Once again the magicians had been called from every corner of Zeleny. Murmurs now filled the great hall. There was dissatisfaction in every voice, hostility in every manner, all Returned were waiting for the high lords to appear from their quarters.
“Why call another meet?”
“I don’t know but I don’t like this one bit. We were supposed to be free of this war by now. What if the king...”
“The man had nothing to do with that. This is all their doing!”
In one of the darker corners in the grand hall, a man rested in the shadows. He had travelled across the country to get here on time. Only after he had been contacted by the Inner voice of his friend he had decided to come to this meet. It appeared that he was not the only one wondering why those high lords had called them together yet again.
“Maybe it was that man who died some weeks ago. It was said he had the madness in him. I was told the high lords locked him up.”
That might be a reason, Vardan thought, though highly unlikely. He knew the high ones had no longer the favour of the people they had had about twenty years ago but he also knew that there had to be another reason to call everyone together again.
The two doors at the end of the hall opened again and at once there was a silence in the grand hall. Candles flickered, men and woman moved aside so that the high ones could pass and take their seats at the front of the hall. The high lords, two women and three men, moved silently through the hall. Not any of them looked all that impressive but the power that came from them did. Vardan shivered and he came forth from the shadows he had been hiding in.
When all were seated one of the men raised his arms and a ringing sound echoed through the hall, telling everyone in the building the meet had started. After the sound ebbed away he sat down and a woman rose, taking his place.
“It has been a tough time for all of us. Some who were with us at the beginning have now passed to a better place. Those troubled by the madness are now released into the beyond. Many of you are wondering why we called you at this time.” Her voice was soft, though powerful and all in the hall kept their thoughts to themselves out of respect. She of all had suffered most.
“We have decided it was best to bind your powers.”
After those words, chaos ruled the grand hall.
“Hey Vardan.”
“What?”
“Happy Kilgaso.” Ottokar said with a chuckle. Immediately he ducked away, avoiding a blow aimed at his face. A laugh reverberated through the valley they were walking in.
“Fool.” Vardan growled.
This was Chapter 1 for you! Chapter 2 will be posted below :)
“Not here, Vardan. Trust me, please. Come with me.” The man begged. “This is important. What I’ve gathered today... it might get some odds in our favour.”
A presence pushed against his mind, trying to will him back into control. It succeeded, but barely.
“Fine. Lead the way.”
Ottokar took the man's arm and took him into a side passage. Again, darkness enveloped them. When Vardan wanted to ask him why, guards passed through the streets. It was the same set as before. Though the commander Kellan didn’t seem too pleased about his failure, his guards looked a little gladder with the situation.
“I am glad we didn’t find the boy.” Fremont whispered to his companion, who chuckled softly.
“As am I. Who knows how much time we would have needed to spent on the little pest if we would have found him.” Garan answered.
“Shut up! All of you. We’ve lost a price today to some insignificant little thief. Keep this feeling in mind, you’ve failed me and your king. No matter how small the damage might seem, it is definitely not. You have all fucked up! If you think you’re going to have a nice free night, FORGET IT! You’re going to have night duty, all of you!” Kellan shouted at them. Protest came up short after.
When the sound of voices dimmed to a faint whisper and the steps of the men were only felt by both men, Ottokar looked at his old friend. Though the old man disguise worked for him, he knew that his friend couldn’t make the journey in this form.
Both eyed each other, trying to figure out what the other was thinking. Though Vardan could guess what his friend wanted of him, he waited till the request was made.
Nothing but an unnatural silence hung in the alley as Ottokar spoke to him directly, “You cannot make the trip looking like that, my friend.” The inner voice spoke in his mind. A mental picture was shown to him, Vardan hissed in response.
“You promised me I would never have to go to that place again.” He spoke out loud, pain clearly noticeable in his voice. The old man closed his eyes and shook his head as the Inner spoke directly to him. “I do have a choice in this.” He protested, but without any result, they needed him as they needed any of the Returned who still lived this day.
“I am too old for this.” He commented, a faint smile now showing around his lips. While one always said he was too old, the other always expressed that he would be young forever. That was why one looked like an elderly man at times while the other ran around looking like a boy running away from his parents. It was a little private joke, made up long ago.
With a sigh, the figure of the old man started to blur and in seconds there was another man visible. The man was Ottokar’s match in height and muscle both had gained during the same experiences in their lives. But while Ottokar had red hair and a friendly expression, Vardan was dark haired, his eyes cold and nearly black, long hair into a braid on his back and a beard that had some silver rings in it. Nothing was left from the old man disguise, no brown robe covered by a light blue cloak, and no little pack on his back. In front of Ottokar stood a warrior who had been proclaimed dead long ago.
For a moment there was a silence as both assessed the situation. The two men were reluctant to go to the place they had left behind so long ago. Both were haunted by nightmares still, but they also knew that they could not escape this path the three spinsters had created for them. Then hands clasped and words were said. A disturbance in the air was the only thing that gave way to the magic that was used in that small dark alley. Then, with a flash of bright light surrounding them, the men disappeared from view.
They reached the northern mountains in a flash. Bright light surrounded them again as they came into view. Mountains tall as giants surrounded them, for they had teleported into a valley. All across the valley, small dots of stone rested that had once housed, long ago, farmer families. Now with the valley deserted it was free for magicians to use as a resting place.
Both men looked pale from the amount of magic they had used to transport themselves to this place. Neither were used to letting so much of their magic slip away in one go, it had not happened to them for years now. There had never been a reason to use this enormous amount of magic in one go, no meetings, no fights, no conflicts between the returned soldiers that needed to be dealt with after the last meeting now 326 years ago.
“Never thought I’d say this but I am getting old.” Ottokar groaned, even now a smile could be seen in his eyes.
“This is really getting to you isn’t it? I thought I was the one getting old here and that you were supposed to be the one that would stay young forever.” Vardan replied, taking a deep breath to fight the fog in his mind. How long had he not used his magic like this? The last meeting had been so long ago, after that the only time he had used this much of his powers had been to transport him to that quiet place...
“Hello, I was talking to you, you know.” Said a voice pulling him back from that peaceful memory.
“What?” Vardan said, straightening his back so that he now stood in his full height. Even though he didn’t wear armour he still was impressive to see. On both arms he wore several arm rings, from gold to silver to bronze.
“Well now that you’ve got your colour back we should be moving. From here it’s still quite a climb up that smallish hill.” Ottokar said, the last part a little sarcastically because the smallish hill was in fact a mountain that seemed to reach the sky and pierce through the clouds above, ignoring the black look his friend gave him. He was used to that by now. “We need to around it, then through the underground passage remember.” Ottokar grinned. “That’s what happens when one is young of mind, you remember things.”
“Wipe that grin of your face.” Vardan grumbled as he already walked towards the mountain top to the west of their current location. From now on no magic could be used by any who entered this sacred place. That was rule set up long before, and even if that rule wasn’t applied the magicians weren’t able to enter because in the parts around the castle they headed for, was spelled so that those with magic would lose it right there.
“No.” Ottokar said joyfully as he started to follow his friend west. Once side by side the man looked at Vardan. “Don’t think about that now, we’ll see what They want when we get there.”
Once again the magicians had been called from every corner of Zeleny. Murmurs now filled the great hall. There was dissatisfaction in every voice, hostility in every manner, all Returned were waiting for the high lords to appear from their quarters.
“Why call another meet?”
“I don’t know but I don’t like this one bit. We were supposed to be free of this war by now. What if the king...”
“The man had nothing to do with that. This is all their doing!”
In one of the darker corners in the grand hall, a man rested in the shadows. He had travelled across the country to get here on time. Only after he had been contacted by the Inner voice of his friend he had decided to come to this meet. It appeared that he was not the only one wondering why those high lords had called them together yet again.
“Maybe it was that man who died some weeks ago. It was said he had the madness in him. I was told the high lords locked him up.”
That might be a reason, Vardan thought, though highly unlikely. He knew the high ones had no longer the favour of the people they had had about twenty years ago but he also knew that there had to be another reason to call everyone together again.
The two doors at the end of the hall opened again and at once there was a silence in the grand hall. Candles flickered, men and woman moved aside so that the high ones could pass and take their seats at the front of the hall. The high lords, two women and three men, moved silently through the hall. Not any of them looked all that impressive but the power that came from them did. Vardan shivered and he came forth from the shadows he had been hiding in.
When all were seated one of the men raised his arms and a ringing sound echoed through the hall, telling everyone in the building the meet had started. After the sound ebbed away he sat down and a woman rose, taking his place.
“It has been a tough time for all of us. Some who were with us at the beginning have now passed to a better place. Those troubled by the madness are now released into the beyond. Many of you are wondering why we called you at this time.” Her voice was soft, though powerful and all in the hall kept their thoughts to themselves out of respect. She of all had suffered most.
“We have decided it was best to bind your powers.”
After those words, chaos ruled the grand hall.
“Hey Vardan.”
“What?”
“Happy Kilgaso.” Ottokar said with a chuckle. Immediately he ducked away, avoiding a blow aimed at his face. A laugh reverberated through the valley they were walking in.
“Fool.” Vardan growled.
This was Chapter 1 for you! Chapter 2 will be posted below :)
Chapter two: When darkness comes
A man clothed in black entered the stables. As he dismounted a servant led his horse away. The man couldn’t care less about the animal. That damned beast had almost cost him his life. If the arrow had been aimed slightly higher it would have been him lying dead on the Than plane, where Kasch met its neighbour.
The spy had been caught a fortnight ago. It was a shame to the court. After the man had been taken into the dungeons below the mountain fortress, it had taken them only but a day to break him into submission. Amaya had her ways, especially when it came to gathering information from unwilling lips. The thought of the queen made him shiver. A vision of beauty she was, at least that was what was claimed about her. The queen was slender, tall, magnificent, courageous, daring, insane... She had claimed the throne after her father had failed in the Great War. The tale was that she had killed him one night, murdered him in his own chambers with his own sword. He had not been worthy of the power that the Great One had bestowed on him, but she would be. She had proven that in her own way.
Kasch was now more powerful than it had been in its prime years before the war. The army was ready for another confrontation, but something had held the queen back from giving to order for war. Now it was clear why. The spy had been one with strength; it had taken six men to capture him and the queen herself to break him. The man had been someone called a Returned in his homeland and since he had reported every activity back to his high lords, the Zelenian soldiers were now ready for an attack. There was only one catch, the Kaschan man smiled, they didn’t know when the fight was going to start.
He moved quickly now. His boots already informed the guards at the queen’s door of his presence and when he came into view they opened the doors for him. Without a word he entered her chambers and bowed from the waist.
“Come on Ratri.” A sweet, welcoming voice said. He could hear the sound of fabric moving and as the woman walked towards him he felt a terrible sense of hopelessness filling his heart. It was a thing she did to all who entered her presence. It was said that it was enhanced by the great one who was lying, waiting, while in the mean time this woman, this queen, was ruling instead. It was said she was chosen.
“Is it done? Did you put him the Than plane as I requested?”
“Yes my lady.” Ratri answered, only when he felt her hand on his shoulder he dared to rise again. Footsteps led away and he looked how the woman walked away from him.
“Now that that little piece of shit is out of my way, all can finally move on as planned.” Amaya murmured. The woman lowered herself onto the couch in front of the window. A distracted look crossed her features as she looked out of the window. A vision of blackened death greeted her. A shiver of delight made her look back at Ratri.
“The Great One will awake any day now. When she is awake we shall finally restore balance in our favour, brother.” She said to him, smiling at him. Had he not known of her nature he might have thought of her like he would any woman. But after all these years he could no longer see her as only his sister, he also saw her as one who bestowed death and destruction in the blink of an eye. He had seen blood running down her arms as she held the death spy’s heart. Another memory took him back to an even darker past, when she had practiced arts even Kaschan magicians didn’t dare to perform. She was a danger to them all.
“I hope the Great One will aid you, sister.” He replied as he took a step into the room, towards the heavy desk standing near a high wall, covered with books. There was a large piece of parchment on it, the letters were written in red ink. Ratri spun around, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“You told me you would never send any of us to that treacherous place.” He whispered, disbelief made his eyes gleam a pale blue.
“No,” his sister started, rising from her couch as she walked to meet him and looked him in the eyes, how they were like his own, the darkest of brown, “I said not any of us who are worthy. My spy in their midst is nothing but unworthy of life.” She said to him, folding her hands over his own. “But see it as a favour of the gods, my brother. They have no spy while we have one they would never suspect.” The glimmer in her eyes made Ratri look away from her. No, he doubted she even was the same girl he had grown up with so long ago.
“Good gracious me. I never thought this day would come.” Ottokar said. His face was now nearly as red as his hair. He was having a hard time. The man stumbled and just avoided tripping over a small rock that crossed his path. Though he stepped aside, another obstacle knocked him down. Lying on his back he stared at the small sapling in front of him. “Defeated by a tree... how pathetic.” Vardan heard his friend mutter. Now it was Vardan who chuckled softly as he lowered himself until his ass met the rocky earth.
“Don’t worry. With age comes wisdom.” He said.
“You almost sound like you’re having fun, Vardan.” His friend said, this time however he didn’t seem that amused. A soft breeze stirred the leaves from the trees surrounding them. The sun casted shadows on the ground and men. Simultaneously they sighed and enjoyed the short moment of rest before they would have to move again.
After walking without a pause for two days now, both felt their muscles ache. But now that they sat down for a moment they could finally acknowledge the beauty surrounding them. They had not seen the land change around them until now. From rocky hillsides, caves and rifts pulling open the earth they had now reached a land of green and plenty. Surrounded by a forest of high trees, even older than the lives of both men together.
Ottokar whistled before he closed his eyes. “I can almost feel the life.” He muttered softly. “Let’s rest for a while, take a nap, eat something other than greenery... you know, I’m not a bloody rabbit.”
Vardan looked down at his friend and nodded. “You stay here, I’ll look for something to eat. There’s a stream just a few feet from here, when you want something to drink you can get your lazy ass down there yourself. Maybe we could make a fire tonight. If my mind still serves me right we shouldn’t be long from the castle.” He agreed. Without waiting for an answer from Ottokar, not that he was getting one anyway, Vardan rose and started to walk. He looked back once and nodded when he saw how his friend dozed in the sunlight. This whole thing was pretty rough for the both of them but from what he had heard from Ottokar, the man had had much to deal with before they had met in Leyna. Gradually he moved toward the tree line that separated this piece of forest land from, again, more mountains. Once he crossed the line of trees, that would keep him out of view from Ottokar, he stopped. His eyes wandered to the high peeks he saw not that far away. He knew the valley they crossed now would lead them to the castle. He was also well aware of the fact that behind those peeks, the death plane separated Zeleny from Kasch. So much time had passed, would it finally look different from those days? Taking another look behind, he found himself walking towards those peeks. After a time he picked up his pace and started to run.
After the chaos that dominated the grand hall for the remaining of the day, it ended when one man rose. A wave of will washed over the gathered Returned. “Will you be silent!” a voice sounded. “This will be enough. I will not hear any more about this matter. It has been decided that the powers all of you gained during the Corcoran War should be bound to protect yourselves.” With a heavy sigh the man sat down. All who regarded him could see his fatigue. “Though most of you are still young, I was already old when the first war between the nations started. This is the only way we can preserve the power needed in the later fight.”
“Are you telling us that you’ve seen another fight, Master?” one of the younger Returned asked softly.
“Yes, another fight will again redden the green fields of Zeleny. For a second time the Great One from Kasch will rise. All alive that day will need the strength you hundreds will set aside today.”
With no further protest, all gathered surrendered to the will of the high lords. Their power would be bound until at last released again when the time was right. The blood rage of the Returned would be taken away, that what they had gained during the war, all left would be the power they had possessed before it started.
One voice started the chant, soon it was followed by more voices. When all had joined, eyes closed, breaths deepened and minds joined to be as one. A feeling of unity surged through Vardan while at the same time a constant anger left his body. From that day the red in his eyes would disappear until it would one day return... so that he would be able to kill again with frightening skill.
The plane stretched out beneath him. Standing at the edge of a cliff, Vardan could see the curve of the earth. There was great nothingness in front of him, only dust and dry earth.
It had changed since the last time the old warrior had seen the Than plane, as it was known to the Kaschans. This time however there were no bodies to litter the plane with death. There were no creatures from hell to feed from the remains of those who had died. No beings crafted from black magic roamed the plane this time.
Vardan started to climb down the cliff, slowly so that he would not fall. His hands and feet were automatically looking for the best places to hold onto. The climb wasn’t hard, he had made it before though he remembered only fragments of it. Much of what he remembered from the end of the war were no more than fragments from greater events. One thing he always recounted; the always present anger in his heart.
Once he stepped onto the cracked earth he could see more clearly what he had not been able to see from above. Not far away from him, something was hidden away from view. A feeling started to nag at him when he stepped forward. There was something amiss, he was sure of it. It just didn’t feel right. The thing out of sight was hidden with magic. For a moment Vardan halted and closed his eyes so he could focus on the thing he found in front of him. His senses surrounded whatever was obscured from his view. A sharp intake of breath followed, his eyes open wide Vardan looked at what lay before him after he had broken the shield with magic.
“Ottokar.” His Inner voice called to his friend. At once there was a response.
“What is it? Where are you?” Ottokar asked, Vardan could feel the uncertainty from his friend even from this far away.
“You need to go to the castle, now. Tell them to wait with the meet until I arrive.”
“Why?!”
“Just do as I say!” Vardan’s emotions were like thunder and his friend stopped the questions.
With the communication ended, Vardan approached what had been revealed after the barrier had come crashing down.
Before him was the torn up body from one he had known only vaguely, but one of his own none the less. How could the high ones have been so stupid? So ignorant?! He wondered furiously. Before him was a Returned, his heart pulled free from his body, his torso covered in deep slashes... the intestines were pulled out and lay in a way that could only mean one thing; another war was coming for certain. This was the way Kasch called for war.
A man clothed in black entered the stables. As he dismounted a servant led his horse away. The man couldn’t care less about the animal. That damned beast had almost cost him his life. If the arrow had been aimed slightly higher it would have been him lying dead on the Than plane, where Kasch met its neighbour.
The spy had been caught a fortnight ago. It was a shame to the court. After the man had been taken into the dungeons below the mountain fortress, it had taken them only but a day to break him into submission. Amaya had her ways, especially when it came to gathering information from unwilling lips. The thought of the queen made him shiver. A vision of beauty she was, at least that was what was claimed about her. The queen was slender, tall, magnificent, courageous, daring, insane... She had claimed the throne after her father had failed in the Great War. The tale was that she had killed him one night, murdered him in his own chambers with his own sword. He had not been worthy of the power that the Great One had bestowed on him, but she would be. She had proven that in her own way.
Kasch was now more powerful than it had been in its prime years before the war. The army was ready for another confrontation, but something had held the queen back from giving to order for war. Now it was clear why. The spy had been one with strength; it had taken six men to capture him and the queen herself to break him. The man had been someone called a Returned in his homeland and since he had reported every activity back to his high lords, the Zelenian soldiers were now ready for an attack. There was only one catch, the Kaschan man smiled, they didn’t know when the fight was going to start.
He moved quickly now. His boots already informed the guards at the queen’s door of his presence and when he came into view they opened the doors for him. Without a word he entered her chambers and bowed from the waist.
“Come on Ratri.” A sweet, welcoming voice said. He could hear the sound of fabric moving and as the woman walked towards him he felt a terrible sense of hopelessness filling his heart. It was a thing she did to all who entered her presence. It was said that it was enhanced by the great one who was lying, waiting, while in the mean time this woman, this queen, was ruling instead. It was said she was chosen.
“Is it done? Did you put him the Than plane as I requested?”
“Yes my lady.” Ratri answered, only when he felt her hand on his shoulder he dared to rise again. Footsteps led away and he looked how the woman walked away from him.
“Now that that little piece of shit is out of my way, all can finally move on as planned.” Amaya murmured. The woman lowered herself onto the couch in front of the window. A distracted look crossed her features as she looked out of the window. A vision of blackened death greeted her. A shiver of delight made her look back at Ratri.
“The Great One will awake any day now. When she is awake we shall finally restore balance in our favour, brother.” She said to him, smiling at him. Had he not known of her nature he might have thought of her like he would any woman. But after all these years he could no longer see her as only his sister, he also saw her as one who bestowed death and destruction in the blink of an eye. He had seen blood running down her arms as she held the death spy’s heart. Another memory took him back to an even darker past, when she had practiced arts even Kaschan magicians didn’t dare to perform. She was a danger to them all.
“I hope the Great One will aid you, sister.” He replied as he took a step into the room, towards the heavy desk standing near a high wall, covered with books. There was a large piece of parchment on it, the letters were written in red ink. Ratri spun around, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“You told me you would never send any of us to that treacherous place.” He whispered, disbelief made his eyes gleam a pale blue.
“No,” his sister started, rising from her couch as she walked to meet him and looked him in the eyes, how they were like his own, the darkest of brown, “I said not any of us who are worthy. My spy in their midst is nothing but unworthy of life.” She said to him, folding her hands over his own. “But see it as a favour of the gods, my brother. They have no spy while we have one they would never suspect.” The glimmer in her eyes made Ratri look away from her. No, he doubted she even was the same girl he had grown up with so long ago.
“Good gracious me. I never thought this day would come.” Ottokar said. His face was now nearly as red as his hair. He was having a hard time. The man stumbled and just avoided tripping over a small rock that crossed his path. Though he stepped aside, another obstacle knocked him down. Lying on his back he stared at the small sapling in front of him. “Defeated by a tree... how pathetic.” Vardan heard his friend mutter. Now it was Vardan who chuckled softly as he lowered himself until his ass met the rocky earth.
“Don’t worry. With age comes wisdom.” He said.
“You almost sound like you’re having fun, Vardan.” His friend said, this time however he didn’t seem that amused. A soft breeze stirred the leaves from the trees surrounding them. The sun casted shadows on the ground and men. Simultaneously they sighed and enjoyed the short moment of rest before they would have to move again.
After walking without a pause for two days now, both felt their muscles ache. But now that they sat down for a moment they could finally acknowledge the beauty surrounding them. They had not seen the land change around them until now. From rocky hillsides, caves and rifts pulling open the earth they had now reached a land of green and plenty. Surrounded by a forest of high trees, even older than the lives of both men together.
Ottokar whistled before he closed his eyes. “I can almost feel the life.” He muttered softly. “Let’s rest for a while, take a nap, eat something other than greenery... you know, I’m not a bloody rabbit.”
Vardan looked down at his friend and nodded. “You stay here, I’ll look for something to eat. There’s a stream just a few feet from here, when you want something to drink you can get your lazy ass down there yourself. Maybe we could make a fire tonight. If my mind still serves me right we shouldn’t be long from the castle.” He agreed. Without waiting for an answer from Ottokar, not that he was getting one anyway, Vardan rose and started to walk. He looked back once and nodded when he saw how his friend dozed in the sunlight. This whole thing was pretty rough for the both of them but from what he had heard from Ottokar, the man had had much to deal with before they had met in Leyna. Gradually he moved toward the tree line that separated this piece of forest land from, again, more mountains. Once he crossed the line of trees, that would keep him out of view from Ottokar, he stopped. His eyes wandered to the high peeks he saw not that far away. He knew the valley they crossed now would lead them to the castle. He was also well aware of the fact that behind those peeks, the death plane separated Zeleny from Kasch. So much time had passed, would it finally look different from those days? Taking another look behind, he found himself walking towards those peeks. After a time he picked up his pace and started to run.
After the chaos that dominated the grand hall for the remaining of the day, it ended when one man rose. A wave of will washed over the gathered Returned. “Will you be silent!” a voice sounded. “This will be enough. I will not hear any more about this matter. It has been decided that the powers all of you gained during the Corcoran War should be bound to protect yourselves.” With a heavy sigh the man sat down. All who regarded him could see his fatigue. “Though most of you are still young, I was already old when the first war between the nations started. This is the only way we can preserve the power needed in the later fight.”
“Are you telling us that you’ve seen another fight, Master?” one of the younger Returned asked softly.
“Yes, another fight will again redden the green fields of Zeleny. For a second time the Great One from Kasch will rise. All alive that day will need the strength you hundreds will set aside today.”
With no further protest, all gathered surrendered to the will of the high lords. Their power would be bound until at last released again when the time was right. The blood rage of the Returned would be taken away, that what they had gained during the war, all left would be the power they had possessed before it started.
One voice started the chant, soon it was followed by more voices. When all had joined, eyes closed, breaths deepened and minds joined to be as one. A feeling of unity surged through Vardan while at the same time a constant anger left his body. From that day the red in his eyes would disappear until it would one day return... so that he would be able to kill again with frightening skill.
The plane stretched out beneath him. Standing at the edge of a cliff, Vardan could see the curve of the earth. There was great nothingness in front of him, only dust and dry earth.
It had changed since the last time the old warrior had seen the Than plane, as it was known to the Kaschans. This time however there were no bodies to litter the plane with death. There were no creatures from hell to feed from the remains of those who had died. No beings crafted from black magic roamed the plane this time.
Vardan started to climb down the cliff, slowly so that he would not fall. His hands and feet were automatically looking for the best places to hold onto. The climb wasn’t hard, he had made it before though he remembered only fragments of it. Much of what he remembered from the end of the war were no more than fragments from greater events. One thing he always recounted; the always present anger in his heart.
Once he stepped onto the cracked earth he could see more clearly what he had not been able to see from above. Not far away from him, something was hidden away from view. A feeling started to nag at him when he stepped forward. There was something amiss, he was sure of it. It just didn’t feel right. The thing out of sight was hidden with magic. For a moment Vardan halted and closed his eyes so he could focus on the thing he found in front of him. His senses surrounded whatever was obscured from his view. A sharp intake of breath followed, his eyes open wide Vardan looked at what lay before him after he had broken the shield with magic.
“Ottokar.” His Inner voice called to his friend. At once there was a response.
“What is it? Where are you?” Ottokar asked, Vardan could feel the uncertainty from his friend even from this far away.
“You need to go to the castle, now. Tell them to wait with the meet until I arrive.”
“Why?!”
“Just do as I say!” Vardan’s emotions were like thunder and his friend stopped the questions.
With the communication ended, Vardan approached what had been revealed after the barrier had come crashing down.
Before him was the torn up body from one he had known only vaguely, but one of his own none the less. How could the high ones have been so stupid? So ignorant?! He wondered furiously. Before him was a Returned, his heart pulled free from his body, his torso covered in deep slashes... the intestines were pulled out and lay in a way that could only mean one thing; another war was coming for certain. This was the way Kasch called for war.
“Mistress.” A servant hurried into the chamber of his queen. His breath shallow, his eyes white.
“What?” the woman snapped. Fury came from her as her eyes flashed red.
“The.. The... high lords have called a meet, mistress.”
“And....”
The servant swallowed and went to his knees. “The body has been found.”
When no answer came, the man dared to look up at his queen. A twisted grin lined her lips. Sudden laughter made him shrink with fear.
“Wonderful! By whom?” she asked.
“The one called Vardan, mistress.”
At once the expression darkened and before the poor man knew what happened to him, a dagger ripped his throat open. Nothing happened the first couple of seconds. Then blood started to flow and when the body hit the floor the queen screamed her rage.
Another servant came running quick. “Get that filth away from here. Call upon the Great One! She cannot make me wait any longer!” The servant hurried away, when finally out of sight the woman opened a small cabinet. “You should have been dead.” She whispered. In the cabinet lay a number of things, mostly small items she had gathered from the victims she’d made during a war. A feeling if fury passed through her as she slammed the small doors close, in her hand she held a small object she had once obtain from a certain warrior. One she had for long thought to be very dead.
She smashed the item onto the floor, with a scattering sound the pottery broke. As Amaya looked at it she felt a pang inside of her. How could this be? Had she been tricked? Was she being mocked, made fun of? No, the Great One had told the queen herself, the warrior had been dead among the victims of the final slaughter... but he had survived more than just that, he had not perished when most men would have.
Far away, Vardan knelt on his hands and knees, trying to regain breath he had suddenly lost. For a moment there was nothing until something wavered before him. The vista in front of him changed and he appeared to be inside a room.
A desk near a high wall covered with books, a couch near the window, a tapestry hung from the other wall, next to the bed. A voice spoke, one he barely remembered but haunted him nevertheless. “How can this be?” he heard a woman say. She didn’t come into view however and he found himself in no position to move. This was only a projection, he noted. When trying to for away the power that took hold of him, he heard a laugh.
“Just know I will come for you, and this time... It will be your end.”
This is the end of chapter 2 :) please tell me your thoughts!
“What?” the woman snapped. Fury came from her as her eyes flashed red.
“The.. The... high lords have called a meet, mistress.”
“And....”
The servant swallowed and went to his knees. “The body has been found.”
When no answer came, the man dared to look up at his queen. A twisted grin lined her lips. Sudden laughter made him shrink with fear.
“Wonderful! By whom?” she asked.
“The one called Vardan, mistress.”
At once the expression darkened and before the poor man knew what happened to him, a dagger ripped his throat open. Nothing happened the first couple of seconds. Then blood started to flow and when the body hit the floor the queen screamed her rage.
Another servant came running quick. “Get that filth away from here. Call upon the Great One! She cannot make me wait any longer!” The servant hurried away, when finally out of sight the woman opened a small cabinet. “You should have been dead.” She whispered. In the cabinet lay a number of things, mostly small items she had gathered from the victims she’d made during a war. A feeling if fury passed through her as she slammed the small doors close, in her hand she held a small object she had once obtain from a certain warrior. One she had for long thought to be very dead.
She smashed the item onto the floor, with a scattering sound the pottery broke. As Amaya looked at it she felt a pang inside of her. How could this be? Had she been tricked? Was she being mocked, made fun of? No, the Great One had told the queen herself, the warrior had been dead among the victims of the final slaughter... but he had survived more than just that, he had not perished when most men would have.
Far away, Vardan knelt on his hands and knees, trying to regain breath he had suddenly lost. For a moment there was nothing until something wavered before him. The vista in front of him changed and he appeared to be inside a room.
A desk near a high wall covered with books, a couch near the window, a tapestry hung from the other wall, next to the bed. A voice spoke, one he barely remembered but haunted him nevertheless. “How can this be?” he heard a woman say. She didn’t come into view however and he found himself in no position to move. This was only a projection, he noted. When trying to for away the power that took hold of him, he heard a laugh.
“Just know I will come for you, and this time... It will be your end.”
This is the end of chapter 2 :) please tell me your thoughts!
Mod
Thanks ^^ I have chapter three as well or at least a part I think so I'll post it later today :) The beauty of it all is that I don't even know whats going to happen hhaha it just all comes while I write :)
Here is the first part of chapter 3. When I have team I'll finish it and that will probably be in the weekend! :D
Chapter 3: An unexpected visitor
A chill awakened the being within the cave. For a long time no one alive had opened the door that sealed him from the outside world and now, someone had. It was not really the cave where he was that was opened, but another had. This was a bad omen, he knew this for a fact. He should not have been awakened, they should have let him be, allowing him time to regain what he had lost.
A misconception had been planted in minds of men across this world. It was a simple one, but fatal too. To all who lived till this day, only he knew the truth. Yes, it was he who had fabricated this story so many aeons ago, to protect what was to him most dear. Arcialia had only been small then, never could he have imagined that faith would be so cruel.
Outsiders never understood this. Neither did Septhis. For he was called eternal death, she was named a treasure, for she had been for him. She was his daughter by blood, but never had he thought of her less. For his kind, family had no meaning at all. Though the night she had been born, he had foreseen what would become of her. For lifetimes he had tried to raise her, so that she would not become what he had seen. Though it had been inevitable... when one day she had crossed the line, again, he had exiled her, telling her to never return to this place they had called home. It had torn her up inside... she had chosen a different life from that point. Now that he thought about it, he could still hear the last words she shouted at him in poisoned rage “One day you will fall and I will be the cause!”.
The creature shivered again, than slowly rose from his resting place. It was time. There was no use in waiting for another chance again. War was coming for the second time and this time she would be more powerful. During his long sleep he had seen what she had seen, always a presence in her mind. Only when both had struck an accord did he feel dread boiling up inside him. Both were the same in their hearts, black, death, cruel... vicious... it would not be enough for one to die. Only he could aid the men ready to fight the great evil that was coming their way.
Septhis uncurled even further so that his long body could barely be contained by the cave. A sigh echoed through the hollow space in the mountain. His eyes opened and he blinked. Long had he held them closed so that there would be no distractions. Now, for the first time years of darkness, he saw a ray of sun in the cave. There was no choice in this, he thought again. Then he moved quickly, moving through the mouth of the cave, out into the open. The great black dragon roared his return and with a couple of beats from his mighty wings, he took to the sky.
Fiery red eyes snapped open. The creature in the darkness felt a chill and shivered. Inside she felt a stirring, so he was awake as well, she thought. A tiny thing came before her, falling to both knees, head towards the ground. She let it speak to her in a whimpering voice. How could she even indulge this pathetic thing in front of her? When the old king had been alive, only he had come to see her. He had respected her as she should be respected, while his demon of an offspring treated her like a mere servant.
“But if your Grace...” the servant started again.
“Silence, human.” Arcialia hissed. The result was satisfactory, for the man shrank even more, if that was even possible without it having to die beneath her fire, the dragon thought.
“Tell that woman to come to me in person. Tell her that I will aid her but only now and only if she promises me a fight in that land you call Zeleny.”
For a moment there was only the sound of fire in the torch the servant held.
“What would be the reason?” he stammered, unable to look her in the eyes.
“I claim the fight with the one who will stand in battle with them she calls her enemy. My father.”
“Why is he not present yet? Ottokar, you are the one who last had contact with Vardan. Try to call upon him one more time. If he doesn’t answer we shall...” one of the Returned, called Arild, started. It had been two days now after Ottokar had last had contact with his friend. He had reached the castle at nightfall that same day.
Heavy doors opened, the sound of it stopped Arild in his speech.
“Vardan,” Ottokar started, relief clear in his voice, as he stepped towards his friend, “Where have you been? We’ve all worried sick. I even got a little grey.”
No answer came from the dark haired warrior as he entered the grand hall. He was carrying something with him in a big sack.
“What is..” another started, but he ceased when Vardan let the sack fall onto the ground. The sound of breaking bones caused men and women to step back, some even crossed their arms as if a sudden cold overtook them.
“See for yourself.” The warrior said darkly. There was a gloom in his eyes as he eyed Arild, who volunteered. When the sack was opened, an awful foul stench of decay and rotten flesh came out of it. Few who were not far enough away started to retch. Arild, to his defence, stood calm and collected over the body now revealed. Though his eyes spoke more than words, Vardan already knew what he was thinking. Was it his imagination or was the former battle commander turning a bit paler when he looked at the corpse in front of him?
“This is something for the high lords. Would you testify, Vardan?” he was asked. He only nodded in return, and then left to await the orders of return. This meet would turn out to be very interesting indeed.
Behind him someone stopped his run. “What happened, Vardan? Where did you find that man?” Ottokar asked him. When he stopped and allowed his friend to catch up, he saw panic in the green eyes. “I wanted to take a look at the plane... to be sure.” He said softly, he seemed almost vulnerable to Ottokar.
“You went to the plane?! You stupid fool! What if anyone had spotted you? You could have been lying there at this very moment. Burned to ashes or ripped to pieces.”
“I KNOW!” Vardan shouted. Fear mixed with anger came from him and he started to walk again. He had to do something. Maybe he could hunt, or take a look around the old castle. When he heard his friend stammer he stopped however.
“Just not now, my friend. Call me when the high ones want my presence. If anyone asks, I will be around the grounds... somewhere.” He whispered before he vanished around a corner into the hallway that led to the hunting grounds behind the castle.
Chapter 3: An unexpected visitor
A chill awakened the being within the cave. For a long time no one alive had opened the door that sealed him from the outside world and now, someone had. It was not really the cave where he was that was opened, but another had. This was a bad omen, he knew this for a fact. He should not have been awakened, they should have let him be, allowing him time to regain what he had lost.
A misconception had been planted in minds of men across this world. It was a simple one, but fatal too. To all who lived till this day, only he knew the truth. Yes, it was he who had fabricated this story so many aeons ago, to protect what was to him most dear. Arcialia had only been small then, never could he have imagined that faith would be so cruel.
Outsiders never understood this. Neither did Septhis. For he was called eternal death, she was named a treasure, for she had been for him. She was his daughter by blood, but never had he thought of her less. For his kind, family had no meaning at all. Though the night she had been born, he had foreseen what would become of her. For lifetimes he had tried to raise her, so that she would not become what he had seen. Though it had been inevitable... when one day she had crossed the line, again, he had exiled her, telling her to never return to this place they had called home. It had torn her up inside... she had chosen a different life from that point. Now that he thought about it, he could still hear the last words she shouted at him in poisoned rage “One day you will fall and I will be the cause!”.
The creature shivered again, than slowly rose from his resting place. It was time. There was no use in waiting for another chance again. War was coming for the second time and this time she would be more powerful. During his long sleep he had seen what she had seen, always a presence in her mind. Only when both had struck an accord did he feel dread boiling up inside him. Both were the same in their hearts, black, death, cruel... vicious... it would not be enough for one to die. Only he could aid the men ready to fight the great evil that was coming their way.
Septhis uncurled even further so that his long body could barely be contained by the cave. A sigh echoed through the hollow space in the mountain. His eyes opened and he blinked. Long had he held them closed so that there would be no distractions. Now, for the first time years of darkness, he saw a ray of sun in the cave. There was no choice in this, he thought again. Then he moved quickly, moving through the mouth of the cave, out into the open. The great black dragon roared his return and with a couple of beats from his mighty wings, he took to the sky.
Fiery red eyes snapped open. The creature in the darkness felt a chill and shivered. Inside she felt a stirring, so he was awake as well, she thought. A tiny thing came before her, falling to both knees, head towards the ground. She let it speak to her in a whimpering voice. How could she even indulge this pathetic thing in front of her? When the old king had been alive, only he had come to see her. He had respected her as she should be respected, while his demon of an offspring treated her like a mere servant.
“But if your Grace...” the servant started again.
“Silence, human.” Arcialia hissed. The result was satisfactory, for the man shrank even more, if that was even possible without it having to die beneath her fire, the dragon thought.
“Tell that woman to come to me in person. Tell her that I will aid her but only now and only if she promises me a fight in that land you call Zeleny.”
For a moment there was only the sound of fire in the torch the servant held.
“What would be the reason?” he stammered, unable to look her in the eyes.
“I claim the fight with the one who will stand in battle with them she calls her enemy. My father.”
“Why is he not present yet? Ottokar, you are the one who last had contact with Vardan. Try to call upon him one more time. If he doesn’t answer we shall...” one of the Returned, called Arild, started. It had been two days now after Ottokar had last had contact with his friend. He had reached the castle at nightfall that same day.
Heavy doors opened, the sound of it stopped Arild in his speech.
“Vardan,” Ottokar started, relief clear in his voice, as he stepped towards his friend, “Where have you been? We’ve all worried sick. I even got a little grey.”
No answer came from the dark haired warrior as he entered the grand hall. He was carrying something with him in a big sack.
“What is..” another started, but he ceased when Vardan let the sack fall onto the ground. The sound of breaking bones caused men and women to step back, some even crossed their arms as if a sudden cold overtook them.
“See for yourself.” The warrior said darkly. There was a gloom in his eyes as he eyed Arild, who volunteered. When the sack was opened, an awful foul stench of decay and rotten flesh came out of it. Few who were not far enough away started to retch. Arild, to his defence, stood calm and collected over the body now revealed. Though his eyes spoke more than words, Vardan already knew what he was thinking. Was it his imagination or was the former battle commander turning a bit paler when he looked at the corpse in front of him?
“This is something for the high lords. Would you testify, Vardan?” he was asked. He only nodded in return, and then left to await the orders of return. This meet would turn out to be very interesting indeed.
Behind him someone stopped his run. “What happened, Vardan? Where did you find that man?” Ottokar asked him. When he stopped and allowed his friend to catch up, he saw panic in the green eyes. “I wanted to take a look at the plane... to be sure.” He said softly, he seemed almost vulnerable to Ottokar.
“You went to the plane?! You stupid fool! What if anyone had spotted you? You could have been lying there at this very moment. Burned to ashes or ripped to pieces.”
“I KNOW!” Vardan shouted. Fear mixed with anger came from him and he started to walk again. He had to do something. Maybe he could hunt, or take a look around the old castle. When he heard his friend stammer he stopped however.
“Just not now, my friend. Call me when the high ones want my presence. If anyone asks, I will be around the grounds... somewhere.” He whispered before he vanished around a corner into the hallway that led to the hunting grounds behind the castle.
Mod
For those of you who are also in the write, wrote, written group; yes I posted this story there as well but I am simply quite proud of it and I want to share it with you ^_^ Please leave some feedback or a nice comment :D
prologue
Even after four centuries had past, the signs of the great battle were still visible upon the earth.
Though the heart of the fight had been elsewhere back then, everything in the high north had changed. Where first woodlands had housed all kind of creatures, now only abandoned valleys, covered in rocks from numerous rockslides, remained.
It was now seen as a small battle that had been fought here. Children were only aware of the carnage near the capital, but never were they taught about the Corcoran War. The fight was only known by its name, though none of the people from Zeleny knew why it was called that.
A memory caused the man to stop. He had been climbing these mountains for a long time. For months he had risen at dusk, when the sun rose in the east, and stopped only when the burning globe set in the west.
Before him however, he didn’t see the gentle slope that would lead him to a cave in which he could rest for the night. He saw nothing but what his mind wanted him to see. A long road covered with the bodies of the soldiers and other men. Some ripped open by something with large claws, others simply butchered with swords or axes. But that had not been the worst part. He remembered that after walking, slowly so that he would not touch the bodies of the dead, several hundred feet later there were even more corpses. Or at least there should have been. Some who had been touched by the inferno when only a few feet away from the source were now nothing but a pile of ash. The people further away still had their bodies, or so it seemed. The things on the ground before him were blackened by the fire. When he looked at a man’s face, maybe it had been a woman, he saw empty eye sockets... the mouth was still open... still screaming in pain even after death.
The Corcoran War was named after those who survived. Those who had returned with skins gleaming red from the blood on their arms, legs and faces. The returned whose eyes had even turned red from the bloodshed.
From those men, most had gone mad in only days after their return. From the millions who had gone to war against the destructive power of the neighbour land of Kasch, only four thousand had survived. Nearly three thousand had met their ends in the first weeks after the madness took charge. Now only a handful lived, because even after four centuries of rebuilding Zeleny the few still alive felt uneasy, knowing that it had never been the end, only the beginning.