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Week 24 (October 28th-November 4th) Story Contest---Topic-evil DONE!!
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by
Kaitie♥
(new)
Oct 28, 2009 02:38PM
Oooooh :) Sounds good! :)
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I will write this week! I'm serious I will ... sleep ...
swy but i cant! although id love to. i just have so much work. besides, i promised a friend id write the next chapter of my story for today and i havent! :(
am i allowed to just post an excerpt of my story???
okay thanks--Prologue-Birth
WC:603
by Kat
It was dark that night. That night when Kirilee was born by fire. In Agansi, everyone was born by an element. Most were earth or air. Some, water. Only a rare few were born by fire. Only those destined for greatness.
The family's cottage was in the middle of a forest; no one for miles around. The howling of wolves echoed in the distance. Scurrying of little mice sounded on the wooden floor. The glow of a single candle lit up the entire room.
The baby was wrapped in a purple blanket embroidered with her name in gold. Her eyes were closed peacefully, her breathing steady and calm. The mother and father admired their beautiful baby Kirilee.
Rain poured down. Lightning flashed nearby. Flame leaped up the trees, devouring the bark. The fire spread, destroying the forest. Animals hurried for safety, only to be met by walls of flames. The fires crept into the tiny cottage.
Kirilee's mother, Lina, felt the warmth from the fire. Her father, Liam, stood up to investigate. He walked out of the living room and never returned.
Lina was desperate to save her husband and protect her newborn. She soaked the blanket in water and left. Lina knew that she would most likely die searching for her husband. But, at least the baby was safe.
When the fire seeped into the living room, Kirilee woke up. She stared at the fire with her bright gray eyes. The flames dance around her, never touching. A birthmark in the shape of a burning branch appeared on her exposed shoulder.
***
A country away, Queen Tiriana started awake. She had had the strangest dream. It was about a baby fire element being born. She pondered for a moment, and then went to check on her son. He had been born a week ago, when the hospital burned down. Tyan was a fire element, too. What are the chances? The queen wondered.
She woke the King. The King consulted the royal advisor, who consulted the history scribe, who consulted his scrolls. He looked for all the fire elements born, and when. The King wanted the probability of two fire elements being born within a week of each other.
Hours later, the history scribe hurried up the stairs into the King's chamber.
"Sire, sire! I found the prophecy! The prophecy that foretells this event!"
"Show me!" King Andraius exclaimed. He leapt off the bed, scattering his paper work on the floor.
The scribe showed the King down to the dungeon library. The torches flickered in the gloom. Only the scribe’s footsteps echoed around the corridor; King Andraius was a trained spy.
The scribe browsed through the documents, slowing down near the thousands.
"Ah!" He proclaimed, pulling at an old battered scroll. The scribe unfurled it, pointing out the letters to the King.
Thousands of years from now,
One will be born to rival another,
And one will be born to sentence his brother.
A third, wise, cunning, evil,
Will rule for a time and be lost.
Two of these three, fire-bringers they be,
Are destined for each other.
The king read the prophecy three times over. Then, he rushed out of the dungeon and back to his quarters. When the queen read these words, she fainted.
In the next room, Tyan was crying. In the bed across from his crib, a figure stirred restlessly. Jason crawled out of bed and stood near the door. The parchment his step-mother dropped rolled into his shadow. When 5-year old Jason read the words on the paper, he ran into his younger sister Jessamine's room with excitement.
Title: HeWords: 1690
He . . . he? Yes he was a long tooth flying through space. Just one. He no longer had a body of material. No longer would anyone remember the time or space of his co-ordinance or from whence he flew loose from his original form of material. His outfit jacket disintegrated. In the time it takes to realize a mistake it had taken effect. His feet once in some dessert dirt about to perish from doom of thirst having crashed near by, anyway limping from a hole he caressed for water but it had none, were gone. A place filled of dust and debris of sand and time only over years of war, no one would encourage war, would not be his last thoughts. Only the pang pang of a digitally controlled laser gun backfiring, having been damaged from the crash, freezing his controls of his body in less than a second. A last word or thought processed into a choking in steam. In panic of his hitting his own face by mistake in a choking fit the gun falls to explode on itself dematerializing eventually the ground. The gravity acts to create a wind in the time he flies apart. Rocks hurl up in a second and hit what remains of him as the orbit collapses his tooth flings free.
The great Mustafa king over all fairylands was actually an evil ogre. As lord over Telemarche he had a telescope. One he was now using to watch a great bungle in his sky works. Usually all fairy worshipped the sun that was a morning star, and night that was a moon. It gave piece and tranquility to all those Mustafa enslaved as king. He watched a planet he hoped to explore one day disintegrated and vanish before his eyes. The great overlord of all fairyland-and-dome looked askance without expression and genuine awe. He had no words for a sight of this astonishment. Was it retaliation from his subjects testing a weapon? It had better not. Was it a sign from God that an ogre must cherish life because heaven is imperfect and god wishers surely to destroy all those as it did the unexplored planet? Was the other world in the telescope Mustafa watched for two thousand years just an illusion after all?
Mustafa didn’t know the answers. He only decided if the sun and moon were unchanged and so was his world he must still be ruler of it all. Why not the entire universe? Maybe he could wish the obstructions of unwanted planets away? He smiled as he was tempted to believe in such power, only he hadn’t yet wished something.
The council entered the antechamber. They brought a new drawn map of the known universe. It was of the star that went around giving day light and a stupid luminous source at night called a moon. The ancients taught how a moon could be a source to magic. It changed weather and tides. The council was open to suggestions. Now Mustafa was thinking that if they could in some way stop the moon lighting up at night. It would impair the little fairies and stop any future uprising. It sounded reasonable. The council listened as Mustafa described what he saw and what he now wants.
Willing to bend to the biding of Mustafa the council created a night time tax. Revenue to pay for the getting rid of the moon or at least the luminousness of it at night.
Slaves no longer made any money but rich merchants that sold supplies or mined from the bottoms of the ocean corals and rocks would pay double their expedited taxes. If not they would pay the overlord by becoming a slave. What merchant did not pay his taxes to remain free?
The sky scrapers were mining in the upper atmosphere in their balloons. They caught rocks before they began to fall into their planet. Now with the other unexplored planet gone their atmosphere had been lighter and the fairy found they could easily travel further yet from above the ground trapping the space rocks. Kirk the captain of his vessel had now got his sights on a comet they thought was to far from their world to get but not now. Now they had their nets out and were ready to trap the large block of ice that had been trapped between some stones that orbited in a circle around the world. The ice minerals were always big and made a lot of money when at market. Kirk’s hands itched as he was hauling in the block with his gloves slipping. He tugged and pulled. He shouted, “Aye, heavy lo fairies and then a great tug! Yes now we have ‘er!” turning with his great gob open in happy excitement he swallowed a tooth that was swimming past. “Wa!” that tooth was caught in his throat paining his speech. “Lo. Hold her steady fairies while I tie ‘er.”
All the fairies gave one last loose tug then they all sighed in relief. The comet was tied to the stern of the flying ship. Many fell backwards to lay flat to stretch their soreness away. Many of these slaves went without food and found satisfaction by just being alive.
Later in Kirk’s cabin he found he was still choking on some bone or something that must be coming up from his diner or something. Kirk had no idea he nearly ingested the remains of the unexplored planet.
“Pa! ’ere fairy, you!!” he screamed at a passing slave, “give me ‘er a drink pronto before I choke on my indigestion.” The obliging fairy returned in moments with a juice from the staff kitchen. Downing the fluid Kirk bulged like a summer night toad and coughed in discretion. The tooth whipping up caught into a cavity in Kirk’s mouth and singularly associated itself in Kirk’s mouth to resemble the tooth’s past owner, the one Auld Erik von Baron the Third, the great astronaut of the deeper region of any space.
“Oh, that really smarts now.” Kirk said trying to wiggle the tiny tooth stuck in his own. “I’ll need a dentist for sure.” He currently went to sleep afterward.
In market next day he lugged his comet in order of fetching a high price. In need of a dentist, if that was what he would do with the money, he slapped on it an incredible price having found it in the deepest of atmosphere any balloon ship has traveled yet. The fairies began to awe with frenzy as the auction begun and the bids were increasing favorably. Kirk was grinning with a full mouth of teeth. He soon realized his luck as another big bid came after looking at the handsome captain, although Kirk too was an ogre. But he was an incredible handsome ogre with all his teeth.
“Sold!” exclaimed the official. “the highest price of minerals I’ve seen.” He stated.
Kirk went to get his money but learned there was a new tax on all things, the new Night Time Tax. “That’s audacious!” he quibbled. Only that was an illegal technical in Mustafa’s kingdom. Even the great captain Kirk would pay dearly for his swearing against the government. All had heard him. Or was it him?
Soldiers marched up to Captain Kirk. “You are under arrest for blusterous action against the Power of Mustafa.”
“Who?” He jested blusterously. This mistake cost him dearly as he was next clubbed stupid. When he awoke he was facing the council. All were present except Mustafa who rarely took his eye away from his telescope.
“Wait!” Kirk protested. “I haven’t been given a fair trial. I have rights!”
Everyone in the crowd stood quiet. What were rights? They had never heard of them before. Why was Kirk arguing when no one ever spoke up before? Didn’t Kirk know rebelling would get him swished?
One of the council cleared his throat. “Why do you make it harder on yourself Kirk? You have brought us the biggest comet yet, why don’t you shut up and let us find a feasible fine for you to pay Mustafa the overlord in return?”
“Who? I will not pay anything. Do you not know who I am? I’m a member of the G-Force. I will find my own council and judge, it’s my legal right as a universal citizen.” He screeched.
For all the Latin each member of Mustafa’s council was willing to admit to of learning, the unknown words like ‘G-Force’ and ‘universal’ had no understanding meaning. They all thought Kirk mad.
Kirk not knowing what he spoke was taxed so much he couldn’t pay because he refused to return to work. After his fellow ogre’s grew discussed of him living off of them screaming all the time as an idiot they decided to chop him up and feed him to the fish.
The world continued into it’s darkness. The new Night Time Tax goal was succeeded. They launched many air balloons to hack the moon into bits of rock and it now is a darkness that pleases Mustafa.
Talks of the rulership of Mustafa and his destroying the local beliefs of magic of the fairy became story in Telemarche. Fewer and fewer fairy had anything to say. They often squirmed in their chains and ended up forgetting about freedom all together. One day a fisherman found a coral. He noticed a boney jewel that looked like a human tooth in it. He thought it might fetch him a lot of money at the market. When he heard there was a new Day Time Tax he decided to keep the piece of coral until the Sun was gone. He placed it on a self in his den where his children usually played when he was not home. He didn’t know that. One day one of the older boys plucked out the tooth because he wanted to steal the coral to sell for money at the market to keep the money to buy his own house. Playing with the tooth he put it in his mouth.
The End.
Og. I'm trying to finish, I'm trying to finish.
kinda confusing arthur, but still really good! a lot better than mine!
I'm a he and I did mean "og" - I don't use chat speak or say "Oh my God," just so you have a future reference.
Og is amazing! By the way.... Domerin.... I don't think I've seen you on here yet, so HI! :D
salve, Hanzl... okay, I might have just stumbled into another gender mix up - are you a guy or girl?
And I don't mind some chat speak, I just don't use it myself. On Gaia there was so much incomprehensible chatspeak in the writers' forum - often in the writing pieces - that I trained myself to never use chatspeak as an example.
And, I'm not actually mad at Kat ... just don't call me a girl again.
And I don't mind some chat speak, I just don't use it myself. On Gaia there was so much incomprehensible chatspeak in the writers' forum - often in the writing pieces - that I trained myself to never use chatspeak as an example.
And, I'm not actually mad at Kat ... just don't call me a girl again.
Og ... where did I get that? It had to be from my papa; he's always making weird noises like that. He's the reason I use "ahm" instead of "ah".
Okay, so it is Hanzlea ... although the Genitive comes out Hanzleae which doesn't exactly roll off the tounge.
sorry Dom i didnt know you were a guy...
It is alright; it isn't nearly as bad as going to Red Robin with my sister and mum and having the waiter say "This way ladies." And Ruby Teusday. And this was after I cut off my pony tail.
Haha. Hanzle is my nickname. I got it from the boy name Hansel... long story. (Check out my profile picture.) My real name is Hannah. ;]
That's easier - Hanna, Hannae, Hannae, Hannam, Hanna.
Yes, I'm finished - I just have to set it aside for a few hours and edit it at least once. Oddly enough I don't think I once mention the word evil but ... oh well.
I had a hard time writing about evil.... figures Al picked that topic. :P Oh well, I got a poem finished anyway. :]
lol good 4 u...i i dont think i have a poem about evil...but i will check...
Haha. Cuz we're just that funny. POST IT, POST IT, HERMANA!!! :D
Yay! Good story! :D I also like his name.... Hehehe.
Hmm ... is 3,184 word too much?
Nah, I don't think so. ;] Go ahead and post it.
Okay, it goes rather fast for my tastes, but it'd be six thousand words if I did everything I wanted to.
Domerin Th'ere`se Thompson
3,184 words
Protect your own.
Kaem, the only child of Furrur Pelch, listened to his father’s words. With no mother and no siblings, his father and his teachings were all he had on their little farm. He held them dear, and lived by them: Protect your own, follow authority but don’t become a sheep, accept help from anyone who offers but only trust a few, give anything for those you do trust, give to land and it gives back but don’t expect people to be the same.
He grew up during both a military and political war, with all the taxes leeching off the lower income. Yet Furrur and Kaem, while they had to give up certain comforts, never had any problems with being kept warm and fed. Furrur was a very cautious man and had fully expected the government to over tax them at some point. So despite all the turmoil about them they lived comfortably for the first three years of the war.
The Geam Army came upon their country like a rising tide; sometimes pushing forward, sometimes falling back, but at the end of the year they had more land than they started with. The citizens of the invaded country could feel the shadow stretching out to reach them in their homes.
Finally, the shadow touched the Pelch Family.
They knew the city they remained on the outskirts of would be taken when the army arrived. The only surprise was that it took three days – and on the third they received reinforcements. They flanked the enemy force and for a moment seemed to rout it. Yet the Geam army was both well-trained and well led. Less of the enemy soldiers fell than was first apparent and the appearance of fleeing was a ruse to maneuver around the supporting force. The slaughter was incredible. The city fought to the last because the Geam gave them no choice; they rarely left a single soldier alive, and then only for interrogation. Every capable man, and some women, of age able to wield a sword was called to defend the city, so when the battle was over not one man able to stir a resistance was left alive.
Had the battle taken place three months later, Kaem would have been on the list of the dead, for he participated in the city’s sword competition, was excellent with a bow and a pistol, and not quite old enough to fight. At first he considered himself lucky.
A small Geam squad marched to the Pelch home with a man who looked even more foreign than their invaders. He was likely from off-planet, someone from the worlds of high and mighty technologies. Furrur came out to meet them, with Kaem close behind.
At first the two factions merely observed each other in silence, Kaem giving them the nastiest stare he could muster. One of the Geam troops whispered to the foreigner in a strange, rough language that Kaem did not recognize. The foreigner nodded, a slight smile spreading over his handsome face.
They finished their conversation and Furrur decided to speak up. “I take it you are the new authority.”
Kaem jumped visibly at this. If they were authority then he was to follow them … without becoming a sheep. The foreigner’s smile broadened.
“Yes,” the only present Geam officer replied with a thick accent. “We’ve come to ensure that you understood this. You will need to present yourself in the town square in three days for an official announcement of the nature of Geam rule.”
The foreigner stepped forward and said, with a much better accent than the officer, “And you will provide me with quarters and a meal tonight.”
It was just about the strangest thing – the foreigner could have quarters in any house in the city, yet both Furrur and Kaem found themselves agreeing as if this suggestion were the most rational thing in the world. Neither was even conscious of it being an order at the time. It simply seemed to be an acknowledgement of an already known fact.
So the foreigner dined with them. It wasn’t awkward at all; he spoke their language fluently and spoke readily about the weather and prospects for farming. He even included Kaem in the conversation by giving him some very useful tips for fighting.
“From the way you describe your fights,” he said, “you are very good with where to put your sword, but you need to focus more on your defense. Keep moving the line of attack, move around your opponent, and move in and out with apparent random abandon. Your opponent will have to work twice as hard to hit you.”
Kaem pondered this. “But won’t I have to work twice as hard to hit them?”
“Yes, but you know where you are going to move next; your opponent doesn’t, if you learn to hide you telegraphs.”
With that he wiped his face clean with the table napkin and placed it on his mostly finished plate of food. Then, without waiting for Furrur to do so first, he stood up.
Kaem stared at him in surprise. The foreigner spoke their language so well that surely he must know that it was rude to stand up from the dinner table before the host. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees, even though the foreigner was still moving casually and Furrur either didn’t notice their guest’s rudeness or was ignoring it. Finally the guest spoke.
“Thank you for the meal. It was delicious, and I’m sure you enjoyed it just as much as I did.”
Furrur nodded, his face bent towards his plate. He knew something was wrong.
“I always feel bad about these when the target doesn’t have a good last meal.”
Target? Last meal? These thoughts barely passed through Kaem’s mind when the foreigner pulled out a pistol and shot Furrur once through the head.
***
Domerin Th'ere`se Thompson
3,184 words
Protect your own.
Kaem, the only child of Furrur Pelch, listened to his father’s words. With no mother and no siblings, his father and his teachings were all he had on their little farm. He held them dear, and lived by them: Protect your own, follow authority but don’t become a sheep, accept help from anyone who offers but only trust a few, give anything for those you do trust, give to land and it gives back but don’t expect people to be the same.
He grew up during both a military and political war, with all the taxes leeching off the lower income. Yet Furrur and Kaem, while they had to give up certain comforts, never had any problems with being kept warm and fed. Furrur was a very cautious man and had fully expected the government to over tax them at some point. So despite all the turmoil about them they lived comfortably for the first three years of the war.
The Geam Army came upon their country like a rising tide; sometimes pushing forward, sometimes falling back, but at the end of the year they had more land than they started with. The citizens of the invaded country could feel the shadow stretching out to reach them in their homes.
Finally, the shadow touched the Pelch Family.
They knew the city they remained on the outskirts of would be taken when the army arrived. The only surprise was that it took three days – and on the third they received reinforcements. They flanked the enemy force and for a moment seemed to rout it. Yet the Geam army was both well-trained and well led. Less of the enemy soldiers fell than was first apparent and the appearance of fleeing was a ruse to maneuver around the supporting force. The slaughter was incredible. The city fought to the last because the Geam gave them no choice; they rarely left a single soldier alive, and then only for interrogation. Every capable man, and some women, of age able to wield a sword was called to defend the city, so when the battle was over not one man able to stir a resistance was left alive.
Had the battle taken place three months later, Kaem would have been on the list of the dead, for he participated in the city’s sword competition, was excellent with a bow and a pistol, and not quite old enough to fight. At first he considered himself lucky.
A small Geam squad marched to the Pelch home with a man who looked even more foreign than their invaders. He was likely from off-planet, someone from the worlds of high and mighty technologies. Furrur came out to meet them, with Kaem close behind.
At first the two factions merely observed each other in silence, Kaem giving them the nastiest stare he could muster. One of the Geam troops whispered to the foreigner in a strange, rough language that Kaem did not recognize. The foreigner nodded, a slight smile spreading over his handsome face.
They finished their conversation and Furrur decided to speak up. “I take it you are the new authority.”
Kaem jumped visibly at this. If they were authority then he was to follow them … without becoming a sheep. The foreigner’s smile broadened.
“Yes,” the only present Geam officer replied with a thick accent. “We’ve come to ensure that you understood this. You will need to present yourself in the town square in three days for an official announcement of the nature of Geam rule.”
The foreigner stepped forward and said, with a much better accent than the officer, “And you will provide me with quarters and a meal tonight.”
It was just about the strangest thing – the foreigner could have quarters in any house in the city, yet both Furrur and Kaem found themselves agreeing as if this suggestion were the most rational thing in the world. Neither was even conscious of it being an order at the time. It simply seemed to be an acknowledgement of an already known fact.
So the foreigner dined with them. It wasn’t awkward at all; he spoke their language fluently and spoke readily about the weather and prospects for farming. He even included Kaem in the conversation by giving him some very useful tips for fighting.
“From the way you describe your fights,” he said, “you are very good with where to put your sword, but you need to focus more on your defense. Keep moving the line of attack, move around your opponent, and move in and out with apparent random abandon. Your opponent will have to work twice as hard to hit you.”
Kaem pondered this. “But won’t I have to work twice as hard to hit them?”
“Yes, but you know where you are going to move next; your opponent doesn’t, if you learn to hide you telegraphs.”
With that he wiped his face clean with the table napkin and placed it on his mostly finished plate of food. Then, without waiting for Furrur to do so first, he stood up.
Kaem stared at him in surprise. The foreigner spoke their language so well that surely he must know that it was rude to stand up from the dinner table before the host. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees, even though the foreigner was still moving casually and Furrur either didn’t notice their guest’s rudeness or was ignoring it. Finally the guest spoke.
“Thank you for the meal. It was delicious, and I’m sure you enjoyed it just as much as I did.”
Furrur nodded, his face bent towards his plate. He knew something was wrong.
“I always feel bad about these when the target doesn’t have a good last meal.”
Target? Last meal? These thoughts barely passed through Kaem’s mind when the foreigner pulled out a pistol and shot Furrur once through the head.
***
oh, if only i could write so fast....i have been working on my book for a while and im only up to about three thousand words... *sigh* I'll never finish fire touched
***
Kaem had attacked the foreigner. The assassin parried the assault and threw the boy to the ground. But the assassin didn’t shoot him; he simply left. He left the boy alive to seek revenge.
It was a long time coming. His first, poor attempt was to sneak into the army garrison, now occupied by the Geam, and capture the officer that brought the foreigner. By any means necessary he’d get the location of the assassin from him.
But he botched the attempt, was captured, and scheduled for execution. At the very moment of execution, in a move straight from stories, he was rescued by none other than Derin Malak, a man so infamous across the stars that even Kaem, a farmer boy from a little village in an inconsequential country on an out-of-the-way planet, had heard of him. He left a trail of bodies and destruction on his path to destroying the magnificent Yoan Empire, the greatest Empire in history spanning no less than six planets.
Kaem, freed, fled across the country in a wickedly fast automobile with the one-man legend. It took the two of them hours to reach what Malak called a “safe place” – a rock formation on the edge of the country. By then Kaem’s adrenaline was passing and he was starting to think about his situation and his next move.
Why would Malak rescue him? What did the farmer boy, being executed for assaulting a royal officer and trespassing on government grounds, have to do with Derin Malak and his vendetta? And how was Kaem supposed to find out who murdered his father now? If the Geam had any intelligence they would have rotated the officer to a different camp by tomorrow morning.
Malak drove the automobile haphazardly through the sharp rock formation, apparently not caring how much damage the machine received. The entire area was rock for miles by the time they parked; no trees, no grass, and almost no sand. Malak pulled the vehicle up short and gruffly told Kaem to get out. It didn’t even occur to the boy to disobey.
As he fished everything that might be useful out of the automobile, Malak explained everything in a very blunt tone, not bothering to introduce himself (although it was admittedly unnecessary) or ask the farmer boy’s name.
“The man who killed your father had nothing to do with the Geam Army, apart from being their guest,” was how he started. “I tracked him for almost two months, always a day or two behind, which is why I wasn’t there in time to save Furrur Pelch. Luckily I was in time to save you. You, Kaem, might be able to help me.”
Malak closed the trunk of his vehicle and swung a heavy backpack over his shoulder. He was already walking away by the time Kaem found his voice. He ran after Malak.
“How do you mean I can help you?” he asked, trying and failing to keep his voice calm.
Malak didn’t even look over at him; he focused on picking out a path through the treacherous rocks. It was clear why he didn’t drive any further.
“The man who killed your father was an agent of the Yoan Empire,” he answered. “The Yoan and the Geam have been working together for years, even the Galactic Nations know about it, even if they do nothing about it. I figured you have something to gain by helping me tear down that Empire.”
“But you work alone.”
Malak snorted. “Alone? How can one man tear down an Empire?”
Even as he said it they reach the apex of another cluster of rocks and came upon an all-out battle. Sword met sword and fake bullets cracked across the area – occasionally there would be a flair of magic or acrobatics that weren’t humanly possible. Kaem breathed one of the oaths Furrur was so fond of saying. Incredibly, despite the frightening scale of the fighting, it was merely training.
“This is my army,” Malak stated dismissively. “People who have been wronged by the Yoan Empire like me. Like you.”
Kaem looked at the legend so fast his neck cracked. “Are you saying you want me to join you?”
“I’m saying that I can help you if you can keep up with the training. I know the name of man who killed your father and I can teach you how to take him down.
“But,” he looked directly at Kaem for the first time, “it won’t be easy.”
And it wasn’t. Even accepting was difficult for Kaem, but he felt he had a moral obligation to avenge Furrur. Protect your own – he didn’t do too well there, did he? But now he could do one last thing for his father, and to make up for his own failure if nothing else.
The training went on for years and Kaem doubted any army except the Lucidia Army underwent anything so brutal. Kaem was beat just short of serious damage every night until he learned to fight back. He had to fight with advantages and disadvantages, and victory meant the same for each – winning with an advantage was no different than winning with a disadvantage in the eyes of his fellow soldiers.
Just as Malak claimed, everyone was there because the Yoan Empire wronged them somehow. They were only bound by hatred, not companionship. Kaem couldn’t help feeling disturbed by this, even years down the line. There were forty people all bleeding together and not one of them cared about the other.
Magic was mandatory and one of the hardest things for Kaem to learn because magic required a structured course to be learned safely, but Malak taught it to them the same way he taught them to fight – by throwing them in the deep end. Almost everyone overdid their spells, but there was no one to teach them better and they all knew that the Yoan Empire trained their agents well in the ways of magic. So they did their best.
Eight years Kaem was forced to train and go on missions that had nothing to with his father’s death. Finally Malak said he found the agent and they had an opportunity to run him aground. Only he and Kaem would go – and Kaem would be the one to end it.
They forced their way onto a transport that took them to Ichun – the centre of technology in the Galactic Nations. Malak explained that they were going to his hidden camp on the planet and wait there. Kaem suddenly felt nervous.
His hidden camp was basically a flat in one of the country’s numerous skyscrapers, some low rent place. Malak told Kaem to be on the ready.
“You mean he is going to come here?” Kaem asked incredulously.
Malak grinned. “Oh yeah, I’m certain he’ll come.”
Kaem doubted this at first, but Malak always seemed to be right – without ever explaining the details everything he said turned out to be true. So come he did.
He didn’t knock; he simply opened the door and walked into Kaem and Malak’s waiting pistols. Furrur’s killer was exactly as Kaem remembered him – except now he looked angry. He wasn’t cold, with his distant grin always laughing at some private joke. He was livid – so livid that he completely ignored his own safety and disregarded their weapons.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
Kaem looked at Malak in confusion, but his leader didn’t seem the least disconcerted.
“She’s in the back,” he replied.
“I need to see her before we do this.”
“Of course.”
Malak casually stood up, opened the closet in the back of the small flat, reached in, and dragged out bound woman at gunpoint. Kaem gasped in recognition; it was one his training partners, Kell. He rather liked her. She wasn’t the type to hold a grudge, which made her different from everyone else in Malak’s army. She never explained her reasons for joining and eventually everyone stopped asking. She went off on an assignment two weeks ago and hadn’t returned. This wasn’t unusual though, so nobody thought anything of it.
Kaem’s horror reduced him to a whisper, “Malak, what the hell are you doing?”
“It turns out our little Kell is the sister of the bastard who killed your father,” Malak explained with a vicious grin. “And there is nothing the Yoan value more than family.”
The Yoan agent barely moved his lips when he replied, “We protect our own, even if they disown us.”
“Disown?” Kaem asked, feeling lightheaded. This was a bit too much to take in.
“She joined our enemies,” the assassin explained with surprising calm. “Yet she never attacked one of us – even on her errands she ran for Malak’s army.”
Kaem didn’t miss the fact that the Yoan agent seemed to excluding Malak from the conversation by referring him in the third person. Malak, however, wasn’t going to stay quiet.
“That makes her a traitor to our cause,” he roared. “An enemy – and so conveniently within our power to use.”
“I just wanted it all to stop,” Kell whined, her dark hair swinging back slightly to reveal the damage Malak did to her in captivity. “All the assassinations I had to carry out; I was sick of killing people. I joined Malak because I thought I was safest with him, and when he sent me to kill my own people I just faked their deaths. It was difficult, but much better than the senseless murder.”
Her voice grew stronger as she continued. Her brother replied softly.
“We aren’t senseless murderers. We have a reason behind every person we kill.”
Kell bent her head. “I know. I just don’t want to do it anymore.”
Her brother looked are her without anger and without the cold calculation and smug smirk. He looked at her like a brother would, Kaem saw.
“If you come back,” he said, “you won’t have to.”
Kell looked up, her face lighting up in spite of the bruises that littered her face, and Kaem was certain he had never seen anything so beautiful. Then Malak was speaking again.
“The only way she’d go back is if you go through this quietly.”
The Yoan agent held up his hands in the universal sign of “I’m not holding anything that might actually be useful at the moment.”
“The son of the farmer kills me, and you’ll let her go,” he surmised skeptically.
“You don’t have a choice,” Malak confirmed.
Kaem, however, was interested in something else. “You remember who I am?”
The agent bowed his head slightly. “Yes, and I’m sorry. I wish I could explain why.”
Kaem found himself nodding. He couldn’t help it; these people killed his father, but he had done his share of assassinations under Malak. And Malak never explain the reason behind most of them, only that they were fighting against the Yoan Empire for revenge. Oh, and Malak found it so easy to point a gun at a former ally and hold her hostage, while his father’s killer was willing to sacrifice everything for his sister.
His whole world spun like a kaleidoscope before his eyes.
“Maybe you could explain – “
“Kaem,” Malak warned. “If you don’t kill him soon, Kell will die.”
Kaem made his decision then. He drew out a long chain with a sharp blade attached to the end of it from its pouch on his hip. The Yoan assassin stiffened in anticipation of that slicing through his body.
Kaem started swinging the chain above his head to gain momentum, keeping the circle small for the confined space. Then he swung it down next to his left shoulder and up behind it, and then the same past his right shoulder. Then he swung it down on Malak’s wrist.
The old warrior was so shocked that he didn’t have time to pull the trigger before his shooting hand was dismembered. He screeched in pain, letting go of Kell who moved quickly from the flood of blood that was dripping all over her shoulder. Her brother reached his gun in an instant.
He didn’t shoot Malak through the head with a clean shot like he did Furrur Pelch. The first one sliced through a love handle. The second mangled the left knee. The third demolished the opposite shoulder. And the fourth ricocheted in his ribcage.
Kaem had attacked the foreigner. The assassin parried the assault and threw the boy to the ground. But the assassin didn’t shoot him; he simply left. He left the boy alive to seek revenge.
It was a long time coming. His first, poor attempt was to sneak into the army garrison, now occupied by the Geam, and capture the officer that brought the foreigner. By any means necessary he’d get the location of the assassin from him.
But he botched the attempt, was captured, and scheduled for execution. At the very moment of execution, in a move straight from stories, he was rescued by none other than Derin Malak, a man so infamous across the stars that even Kaem, a farmer boy from a little village in an inconsequential country on an out-of-the-way planet, had heard of him. He left a trail of bodies and destruction on his path to destroying the magnificent Yoan Empire, the greatest Empire in history spanning no less than six planets.
Kaem, freed, fled across the country in a wickedly fast automobile with the one-man legend. It took the two of them hours to reach what Malak called a “safe place” – a rock formation on the edge of the country. By then Kaem’s adrenaline was passing and he was starting to think about his situation and his next move.
Why would Malak rescue him? What did the farmer boy, being executed for assaulting a royal officer and trespassing on government grounds, have to do with Derin Malak and his vendetta? And how was Kaem supposed to find out who murdered his father now? If the Geam had any intelligence they would have rotated the officer to a different camp by tomorrow morning.
Malak drove the automobile haphazardly through the sharp rock formation, apparently not caring how much damage the machine received. The entire area was rock for miles by the time they parked; no trees, no grass, and almost no sand. Malak pulled the vehicle up short and gruffly told Kaem to get out. It didn’t even occur to the boy to disobey.
As he fished everything that might be useful out of the automobile, Malak explained everything in a very blunt tone, not bothering to introduce himself (although it was admittedly unnecessary) or ask the farmer boy’s name.
“The man who killed your father had nothing to do with the Geam Army, apart from being their guest,” was how he started. “I tracked him for almost two months, always a day or two behind, which is why I wasn’t there in time to save Furrur Pelch. Luckily I was in time to save you. You, Kaem, might be able to help me.”
Malak closed the trunk of his vehicle and swung a heavy backpack over his shoulder. He was already walking away by the time Kaem found his voice. He ran after Malak.
“How do you mean I can help you?” he asked, trying and failing to keep his voice calm.
Malak didn’t even look over at him; he focused on picking out a path through the treacherous rocks. It was clear why he didn’t drive any further.
“The man who killed your father was an agent of the Yoan Empire,” he answered. “The Yoan and the Geam have been working together for years, even the Galactic Nations know about it, even if they do nothing about it. I figured you have something to gain by helping me tear down that Empire.”
“But you work alone.”
Malak snorted. “Alone? How can one man tear down an Empire?”
Even as he said it they reach the apex of another cluster of rocks and came upon an all-out battle. Sword met sword and fake bullets cracked across the area – occasionally there would be a flair of magic or acrobatics that weren’t humanly possible. Kaem breathed one of the oaths Furrur was so fond of saying. Incredibly, despite the frightening scale of the fighting, it was merely training.
“This is my army,” Malak stated dismissively. “People who have been wronged by the Yoan Empire like me. Like you.”
Kaem looked at the legend so fast his neck cracked. “Are you saying you want me to join you?”
“I’m saying that I can help you if you can keep up with the training. I know the name of man who killed your father and I can teach you how to take him down.
“But,” he looked directly at Kaem for the first time, “it won’t be easy.”
And it wasn’t. Even accepting was difficult for Kaem, but he felt he had a moral obligation to avenge Furrur. Protect your own – he didn’t do too well there, did he? But now he could do one last thing for his father, and to make up for his own failure if nothing else.
The training went on for years and Kaem doubted any army except the Lucidia Army underwent anything so brutal. Kaem was beat just short of serious damage every night until he learned to fight back. He had to fight with advantages and disadvantages, and victory meant the same for each – winning with an advantage was no different than winning with a disadvantage in the eyes of his fellow soldiers.
Just as Malak claimed, everyone was there because the Yoan Empire wronged them somehow. They were only bound by hatred, not companionship. Kaem couldn’t help feeling disturbed by this, even years down the line. There were forty people all bleeding together and not one of them cared about the other.
Magic was mandatory and one of the hardest things for Kaem to learn because magic required a structured course to be learned safely, but Malak taught it to them the same way he taught them to fight – by throwing them in the deep end. Almost everyone overdid their spells, but there was no one to teach them better and they all knew that the Yoan Empire trained their agents well in the ways of magic. So they did their best.
Eight years Kaem was forced to train and go on missions that had nothing to with his father’s death. Finally Malak said he found the agent and they had an opportunity to run him aground. Only he and Kaem would go – and Kaem would be the one to end it.
They forced their way onto a transport that took them to Ichun – the centre of technology in the Galactic Nations. Malak explained that they were going to his hidden camp on the planet and wait there. Kaem suddenly felt nervous.
His hidden camp was basically a flat in one of the country’s numerous skyscrapers, some low rent place. Malak told Kaem to be on the ready.
“You mean he is going to come here?” Kaem asked incredulously.
Malak grinned. “Oh yeah, I’m certain he’ll come.”
Kaem doubted this at first, but Malak always seemed to be right – without ever explaining the details everything he said turned out to be true. So come he did.
He didn’t knock; he simply opened the door and walked into Kaem and Malak’s waiting pistols. Furrur’s killer was exactly as Kaem remembered him – except now he looked angry. He wasn’t cold, with his distant grin always laughing at some private joke. He was livid – so livid that he completely ignored his own safety and disregarded their weapons.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
Kaem looked at Malak in confusion, but his leader didn’t seem the least disconcerted.
“She’s in the back,” he replied.
“I need to see her before we do this.”
“Of course.”
Malak casually stood up, opened the closet in the back of the small flat, reached in, and dragged out bound woman at gunpoint. Kaem gasped in recognition; it was one his training partners, Kell. He rather liked her. She wasn’t the type to hold a grudge, which made her different from everyone else in Malak’s army. She never explained her reasons for joining and eventually everyone stopped asking. She went off on an assignment two weeks ago and hadn’t returned. This wasn’t unusual though, so nobody thought anything of it.
Kaem’s horror reduced him to a whisper, “Malak, what the hell are you doing?”
“It turns out our little Kell is the sister of the bastard who killed your father,” Malak explained with a vicious grin. “And there is nothing the Yoan value more than family.”
The Yoan agent barely moved his lips when he replied, “We protect our own, even if they disown us.”
“Disown?” Kaem asked, feeling lightheaded. This was a bit too much to take in.
“She joined our enemies,” the assassin explained with surprising calm. “Yet she never attacked one of us – even on her errands she ran for Malak’s army.”
Kaem didn’t miss the fact that the Yoan agent seemed to excluding Malak from the conversation by referring him in the third person. Malak, however, wasn’t going to stay quiet.
“That makes her a traitor to our cause,” he roared. “An enemy – and so conveniently within our power to use.”
“I just wanted it all to stop,” Kell whined, her dark hair swinging back slightly to reveal the damage Malak did to her in captivity. “All the assassinations I had to carry out; I was sick of killing people. I joined Malak because I thought I was safest with him, and when he sent me to kill my own people I just faked their deaths. It was difficult, but much better than the senseless murder.”
Her voice grew stronger as she continued. Her brother replied softly.
“We aren’t senseless murderers. We have a reason behind every person we kill.”
Kell bent her head. “I know. I just don’t want to do it anymore.”
Her brother looked are her without anger and without the cold calculation and smug smirk. He looked at her like a brother would, Kaem saw.
“If you come back,” he said, “you won’t have to.”
Kell looked up, her face lighting up in spite of the bruises that littered her face, and Kaem was certain he had never seen anything so beautiful. Then Malak was speaking again.
“The only way she’d go back is if you go through this quietly.”
The Yoan agent held up his hands in the universal sign of “I’m not holding anything that might actually be useful at the moment.”
“The son of the farmer kills me, and you’ll let her go,” he surmised skeptically.
“You don’t have a choice,” Malak confirmed.
Kaem, however, was interested in something else. “You remember who I am?”
The agent bowed his head slightly. “Yes, and I’m sorry. I wish I could explain why.”
Kaem found himself nodding. He couldn’t help it; these people killed his father, but he had done his share of assassinations under Malak. And Malak never explain the reason behind most of them, only that they were fighting against the Yoan Empire for revenge. Oh, and Malak found it so easy to point a gun at a former ally and hold her hostage, while his father’s killer was willing to sacrifice everything for his sister.
His whole world spun like a kaleidoscope before his eyes.
“Maybe you could explain – “
“Kaem,” Malak warned. “If you don’t kill him soon, Kell will die.”
Kaem made his decision then. He drew out a long chain with a sharp blade attached to the end of it from its pouch on his hip. The Yoan assassin stiffened in anticipation of that slicing through his body.
Kaem started swinging the chain above his head to gain momentum, keeping the circle small for the confined space. Then he swung it down next to his left shoulder and up behind it, and then the same past his right shoulder. Then he swung it down on Malak’s wrist.
The old warrior was so shocked that he didn’t have time to pull the trigger before his shooting hand was dismembered. He screeched in pain, letting go of Kell who moved quickly from the flood of blood that was dripping all over her shoulder. Her brother reached his gun in an instant.
He didn’t shoot Malak through the head with a clean shot like he did Furrur Pelch. The first one sliced through a love handle. The second mangled the left knee. The third demolished the opposite shoulder. And the fourth ricocheted in his ribcage.
Malak laid there dying in a tangled heap, so in shock that he couldn’t even scream any more. Kaem was shocked at the amount of blood, but controlled the urge to vomit. He knew, in his gut, if any killing was justified it was this one.
The Yoan agent stepped over his body and stood directly in front of Kaem. “You saved my sister. I won’t be able to repay that debt fully, but I can start by telling you why I killed your father. But you have to come with me.”
Kaem glanced over at Kell, then down at the still dying Malak, and back at the agent. “I will.”
He agreed because he wanted to know who the good guys were. He agreed because he was certain he had an idea who they were.
The Yoan protect their own.
The Yoan agent stepped over his body and stood directly in front of Kaem. “You saved my sister. I won’t be able to repay that debt fully, but I can start by telling you why I killed your father. But you have to come with me.”
Kaem glanced over at Kell, then down at the still dying Malak, and back at the agent. “I will.”
He agreed because he wanted to know who the good guys were. He agreed because he was certain he had an idea who they were.
The Yoan protect their own.
I should mention that this written from the assumption that the reader knows something of my world; there was no space to explain adaquately all the different countries and planets.
I like yours, Al, and Kat's ... I don't think much of Aurther's though.
... Wait, "Robin Hood"?
... Wait, "Robin Hood"?
Yep. I enjoyed writing this piece, for one it put into persepctive the idea behind the novel. And for the reader the novel should put the short story in persepctive; it may not be what you read the first time.
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