|
Post by Shayla on Mar 6, 2007 10:33:24 GMT -5
If anyone still reads this board, and started reading a thread I started on my other account, then yes, I posted somehting similiar to this before.
basically, this is a story i started about 3 years ago. but it was pants back then, with a 2D plot and just. icky.
so during summer, i reworked it.
WARNING - this is a long one. no seriously, im nowhere even near finished, and its huge. this is like, huge thick book sized. (well.. when its finished it'll be that way) basically im putting it on here in case my computer goes a-wall and i lose it again (i was not a happy bunny when that happened.) and in case someone actually wants a read.
I also tend to get very lazy when it comes to thinking up names. so for the record. Fëa isnt me (for anyone who talks to me on msn), Calil isnt Tor... and god knows who else i ripped names from. (i did ask their permission first though. ^^) anyway, on with it.
Prologue (type thing. =P) A tentative squeak echoed near a well-worn boot and strong fingers reached out and grabbed the rat around it’s waist; bringing it close to the figure’s face as the rodent squealed in fright at the swift movement. The talon-like fingernails were skilled enough not to tear into the animal’s flesh as it was torn from the safe ground and whisked up into the air. Giant behemoths of trees loomed about them. Shrouded in darkness, shafts of moonlight broke the eternal darkness of this ancient forest. Evil lurked here in the heart of this aged woodland, and strange and queer beasts that answered to none but themselves, and preyed upon whomsoever they pleased. The more normal habitants of this forest, lived only near the very edge, and avoid the most ancient parts of this forest, and for good reason. The centre was old, twisted and bitter. The corruption, it is said, could leak into the very heart of the most good-natured and strongest being, mutating them into a mere shadow of who they once were, transforming them into what could only be described as evil.
But this person walked here without fear, without paying much heed to the warnings of the twisted hearts of the giant trees that surrounded her. She had befriended them, these trees were ancient, with ancient minds and ancient thoughts, and they had not forgotten the ancient magic. They had taken a quiet liking to this woman, and now the forest whispered with the promise of tidings carried by this small rodent belittled even more by the sheer magnitude of the vegetation, who was now grasped in the hands of the woman who sat without fear beneath the ancient trees.
“Ssh little one, ssh little accmahtí” the woman cooed, giving the creature the name of it’s kind. It actual name was a series of squeaks of varying pitch, but she could not be bothering imitating the language of rodents just this moment. “What news do you bring?”
Her hand spread to an open palm and her other hand rose to create a wider platform for the rat. The rat, much calmer now, wrapped it’s worm-like tail around one of her fingers, and she raised her thumb near it’s mouth.
“Your news accmahti, let me know your news.” She whispered, a sense of need entering her tone. The rat twitched it’s whiskers for a second, it’s black eyes regarding her carefully before it took the proffered thumb and bit into it with it’s sharp teeth. The woman didn’t even flinch. Instead she smiled. She was linked to the rodent now, and it’s eyes glowed a blood red. Her little nickname for it came to it’s head, and she sensed amusement by the rat. Yes, she could call it Nashmatí, ‘Little Spy’, and it would answer to that name. And now, the news, what she had been wanting to hear for such a long time.
‘The Prince is born.’ Came a voice in her head, a lusting edge to it’s presence. The rodent had blood, and it craved a more substantial meal. ‘The King is pleased at his new son, but sorrows as his Queen sickens. The midwives recognise the signs and know any help they offer will make little difference. The Queen will die. The newborn will be the King’s only heir.’ A triumphant smile spread across the woman’s face. This was more than she could have ever hoped for. “Thank you Nashmatí, your service is much appreciated. And well rewarded.” She shifted the rat onto her left palm, the one where the rat was now disengaging his teeth from her thumb, and with her right, pulled out some food from her bag. The rat snatched it greedily and tore into it, within a few moments the food was gone and Nashmatí was looking up at her for more. Smiling, like a mother with a newborn babe, the woman produced more food for the rat to devour. It did so, again extremely quickly, and then settled on her lap, belly bulging and tail in a satisfied coil. The animals she had in her service were her most trusted allies.
The branches far above her writhed in satisfaction, and a slight wind picked up, ethereal and it caressed her grey cloak with it’s unnatural breath. It ruffled her hood and seemed to whisper in her ear ‘What will the little wolf do next?’ The woman bowed her head. The forest had long been calling her a wolf. “I need you oh ancient ones, I will send a spirit wraith to the Prince. It will corrupt him and twist his mind to turning onto the path that I need him to be on. But for this spell I will need your strength, and your roots on this world.” ‘It is done.’ The dark wind breathed in her ear. Nashmatí squealed and hurriedly jumped onto the woman’s shoulder, nestling in her hood as roots exploded out of the ground, roots of dark shadow. They wrapped around the woman’s legs and waist, the tip of one lovingly brushed her neck before settling on her shoulder and hardening to a more solid form. “Thank you.” The woman whispered. Her arms were still free, and she had already freed her blade from it’s sheath. Not that any mortal weapon would be of any use for where she was heading. But this blade she had already made into a spirit blade, all those hundreds of years before. She had been searching for a different spirit back then, and stumbled upon the one she sought out now. But now she would not need to go deep into the depths, this time she would only need to stand on the very edge.
Taking the blade in her right hand, she sliced open her left palm, and wet the blade in her dark blood. Then, dipping her right index finger in the well of blood in her palm, she smoothed the dark liquid over her lips. Cupping her hand, she allowed the blood to well into her palm, and then carefully tipped it into her mouth. She swallowed it, the insides of her mouth remained all bloodied, and a single drop of blood dripped down from the side of her wet lips.
The woman then began to chant, the shadow roots about her glowed a blood red, and jets of livid green shot up from the ground and seemingly disappeared into her flesh. The ancient forest was fulfilling the other part of her request.
As she chanted and as the forest about her quivered and moaned, Nashmatí, seemingly forgotten about, was the only being that could see what was happening. The rodent would have squealed in fright if the sight set before him had not stilled his tongue and kept him silent.
A black hole in the fabric of the world was being torn, small at first, then becoming bigger and bigger, a black abyss ringed with blood-red flames. Nashmatí’s tail curled about the woman’s neck and he pushed under her dark hair, under his paws he could feel her going ice cold, though her lips kept chanting. He dared a peek out from behind her neck and saw a translucent twin of the woman he was sat upon. Glowing with dark flames, and utterly naked, was the woman’s spirit. That meant that he was now sat upon a dead corpse, although her lips kept moving and continued to chant. Her spirit looked back, eyes of fire winked lazily at the rodent, her taloned hand holding a blood-red flaming blade; she fearlessly strode through the portal.
Flames flared as she entered the Underworld, and even though flames did her no harm in her normal body, these flames coursed through her, causing unfathomable pain. These flames were meant to test spirits, and these flames knew that she trespassed into a land where she was not yet meant to tread. Gritting her sharp teeth she pushed onwards. Slicing through the atmosphere with her spirit blade, then she finally began to inch through the thick doorway.
It seemed like an eternity has passed of struggling to get through, and endless agony, but she made it, almost collapsing in a heap on the other side. She sneered back at the door, which now was just a ring of flame through which she could see her cloaked body, now pallid with the self-inflicted pale-white of death. Tentative whiskers sniffed about her neck, a small rodent’s nose was all that could be seen amidst her dark hair. At least he would keep her corpse safe.
Dark flames wreathed her body, but these did nought to light the darkness that had swallowed her. Normally her keen sight would allow her to slice through the shadows and see with detail at what lurked in the gloom. But this murk was a perfect pitch black. Her bloodied tongue licked her blood-clotted lips and she let out a low whistle, one name ringing in her head. This deep note gone into the shadows, she gripped her spirit blade tighter. Now all she could do was wait. Her call could be answered by any spirit looking for a meal or a weak slave, not the one she sought. But if she was attacked, they would find her securely rooted in the real world, not an amateur spirit-seeker easily swayed and plucked from their roots. She would put up a fight, and send them plunging back into the depths from which they came.
A fiery glow flared from up ahead, though distances were impossible to gauge in here, nothing was the same, time was not the same. So what seemed like half an hour later although it could have easily been five minutes, there came a whispering voice, it’s echoes ringing in her ears, whispering her name. She nodded.
“I have something to ask of you.” ‘Name it.’ Came the strange unearthly whisper not so much heard as sensed, though it was the familiarity of it that sent shivers down her spine. “I need you in the real world. I have a task for you that I cannot say here.” ‘I am dead.’ “I have roots enough for the both of us.” ‘I have no place now among the living.’ “That sounds so much like the words of the greedy Keepers, wishing not to lose another spirit. Your place among the living was wrongly taken from you. Will you not do this, not even for me?” The spirit paused, considering. ‘For you, my love.’
The last two words caused her to bite her lip, harder than she had intended. A drop of blood that was not red, but a dazzling colour, like of blue flame, dripped from a now blazing bite-mark in her lip.
‘Quick!’ The spirit wailed. ‘The hunters will come for you now!’ The woman cursed her own stupidity and held out the spirit blade, the spirit sliced it’s right palm on it, and suddenly she could see an eerie blue glow about him, now a black silhouette in the darkness, but behind him, a boiling red flame was burning, cursed howling and the frightened whinnying of damned steeds echoed up to her ears but she could spare them no attention. The spirit pooled it’s shimmering silver blood in its palm, wet one side of the spirit blade, wet it’s lips and drank from the pool in it’s palm.
The woman wasted no more time and took his head and kissed it. Blood mingled on their lips, the gesture that ended the bonding, and a fitting gesture for the reunion of two separated lovers.
She pulled away with a tinge of regret, and cast a doubtful look behind him. ‘Now quickly.’ He warned, she nodded dumbly, and they, sliced palm to sliced palm, each in a needing grip, sped through the gate. The agony this time was spared from the woman, but instead fell to her spirit wraith, she felt him tense and slow, and she pushed harder through the path her spirit blade had carved before, dragging him through into the ancient forest.
To Nashmatí, his master had been gone for only a few moments before the ring of flames flared as it had when she had entered it and he saw her emerge, her left arm tensed and pulling something through with her. The barrier flared brighter, and for an instant Nashmatí thought his eyes deceived him, now standing gripping the woman’s hand was a thin, stretched out version of a human, all black, as if made entirely out of shadow. No eyes or features adorned this thing, but for a split second as it had stepped out of the barrier, the rat had thought he saw an Engel no less, silver eyes and black hair, and white light glowing around him. The rodent exhaled in a huff and blinked in disbelief. It must have been a trick of his eyes.
The spirit-wraith looked like a shadow of a man that had most of the life sucked out of him, and he carried the chilling presence of death in an icy aura about him.
The woman’s spirit walked over to her still chanting corpse and slipped back into her body. The rodent clung on tight with his claws as a convulsive shudder shook through her slender body, and slowly, warmth began to spread back through her. Her frozen limbs twitched underneath the shadow roots that were her strengthened anchor to this world, and, as they sensed their purpose was complete, they slowly unravelled and slid back into the damp soil from whence they came.
Tensed shoulders slackened and the woman cautiously stood up, swaying ever so slightly. The blood on her blade had disappeared, as if the blade had absorbed it, and she wordlessly slid it back into it’s hidden sheath. Clearing the clotted blood from her lips, she raised her eyes to the wraith that hovered before her, Nashmatí crawled around to sit on her shoulder for better balance, covered by her dark hair.
The wraith reached out to her, and since they were now linked, the woman could sense that he was about to speak. “Wait. First of all, my real name must not be mentioned – to anyone. Neither should yours. You can be called,” the woman paused, and then smiled. “Zeth.” “And my mission?” Now that Zeth was out in the real world, his voice could be heard by the ears, and was not the music of souls any longer. He had remembered language, but his voice still carried an eerie quality to it. “Corrupt the newborn Prince.” The woman said simply. “What if they see me?” “The King will succumb to grief, the Queen has very acute senses, but she is dying, she won’t be a problem for you. And your job will be halved by the time he reaches his teens.” “Halved with whom?” “That’s something I’m still working on. It depends if I can find the swine.” The woman muttered, clear distaste entering her voice. Then she seemed distracted, and a slight hissing breathe escaped from between her gritted teeth. “I have already been away for too long. Go to the Prince, I will inform you on the details of your task once you arrive and befriend him. He needs to get used to you whilst he is new to the world and fearful of no one.”
The spirit-wraith bowed and disappeared, flitting into the shadows of the trees and was gone. The woman smiled and then whispered to Nashmatí. “Unfortunately my friend, you cannot rest for long. I have yet another task for you.”
|
|
|
Post by Shayla on Mar 8, 2007 14:02:56 GMT -5
The Bannt Mountains Shades of pink tinged the cold bare rock that surrounded a small cloaked figure – dwarfed by the sheer magnitude of the mountains that they travelled in.
Behind them, dawn was breaking, blessing the lands with light and beauty and beginning to chase away the dark of the night. Light rouged the tops of the mountains that had been bleached white with snow. The air was thin and chill, the low temperature was etched into everything that accompanied this treacherous habitat. Ice clung to the mountains, rock mirrored it’s lack of heat. The wind, which seemed to trespass everywhere till none could escape from it’s clutches, attacked it’s victims with it’s relentless icy bite.
The Bannt Mountains were no place for an ill-prepared traveller, and no place to live. The Mountains easily claimed the lives of any foolish traveller, and even the lives of one’s experienced in treading the mountain’s paths. The only human life that dared to live close was nestled between Mount Zalltor and Mount Khaktatt, where the icy Tattha River cut a course through the rock. The cursed town of Téthurst clung to life by the cove, seeking protection from people afraid of the mountains by settling as close as it dared to the formidable stone giants. Although the town had the protection of it’s reputation. A resting place for pirates and a haven for all the black hearted, hunted and banished people of the land, it was a dangerous town, and it is told that only the desperate, insane or the evil ventured there.
Diffennt was the only other place of residence that dared scratch a living near the mountains. The town thrived on the fertile lands that surrounded the volcano.
But although these people dared to live near the mountains and the pirates, and occasionally venture into the foothills – none dared to dwell there. For the mountains derived their name from the ancient language, and even if none of the human occupants knew the true origins of their name, they did at least know of the many tales of ‘monsters’ and strange and twisted tribes that were rumoured to live there, and in Diffennt and especially the villages closer to the mountains in the river’s pass, blamed them for the many strange disappearances of residents.
The Mountains received their name from ‘benntiennunn’ which, in the ancient tongue of the land means ‘banished’. The storytellers of men have since exaggerated the tales, adding their own embellishment to the legends and creating myths out of the truth. Facts forgotten, only horrors remained. The closer people live to the mountains the more that they will believe in such beings. Perhaps not as beasts, but as beings of flesh as bone, even if they do appear to have ghostly qualities.
These banished folk are a reminder of when the lands were young and whole. When the three races of Daemon, Engel and Witch all stood together and lived in peace. Though there will always be trouble, and when one of their own did a damnable thing, once choice punishment was banishment from their realms, to the harsh mountains, whose original name was ‘Tektáhlak-marh’ – ‘those who reach for the sky’.
Now the banished souls still dwell there, deep in the caves. Their blood mixed and their hearts black and bitter. They will occasionally steal into the nearest human dwelling and spirit away a soul of their choice, to mark a celebration of some sorts, or for sick sport. But other than that and to hunt the scarce wildlife, they remain in their caves, hating the ones who banished them and dreaming of exacting their revenge. But their keen senses are able to detect an intruder on the winds when the traveller was far away. And they believed that if they were no longer welcome in the lands of their birth, then no being, of any race, was welcome in their home. Once they had caught a scent, they would chase the being to their borders to claim them and punish them for their trespassing.
The Bannt Mountains were far from welcoming.
So one might wonder, what brought that lonesome traveller to the deserted mountain paths forged by the sparse wildlife – paths that often back-tracked or stopped suddenly when surroundings become too treacherous.
But this particular traveller happened to know all the dangers of the mountains well, they knew all about the banished ones and they were not about to be put off. Anyone who got too curious about this person usually found that gaining their attention was not to their liking.
|
|
|
Post by Tasá on Mar 9, 2007 15:15:34 GMT -5
The Hunt Slender fingers gripped the woven fabric and pulled it tighter around the figure’s slender frame, more for camouflage than for warmth. Her inner fires kept her warm, even in these frigid surrounds. Her hood was pulled down to shadow her face, but a wisp of hair fell from behind her ear, and out of the protection of her cloak. The wind pounced on this opportunity to grab at a new play-toy and whipped the dark strand out before her.
Strong fingers ending in sharp nails, reminiscent of talons, snatched it back and restored it to it’s proper place. All the mysterious woman did then was crouch down to examine the trail.
The rock wall, now bathed in pale light, reared to her right. Snow clung to the thin path before her, the harsh wind picking up surface flakes that had not settled properly into the blanket and sent then scurrying along in a fast twirling current. The rising sun sent her elongated shadow on ahead, distorted by the angle of the glowing red orb. To the woman’s left, a precipice loomed, and if she were to tread on unsafe ground on this narrow path and have the rock crack and slip from underneath her, she would face a fall which meant only certain death. But she was high up on one of the bigger mountains, and to her left also lay the smaller ones, far enough away for one to appreciate their magnificent beauty, and beyond them, the expanse of the Gutnor Greens, the tall grass that was split by dozens of babbling brooks and swift streams, with patches and small oasis’ of trees and shrubs; an area that teemed with wildlife. Her sharp, far-seeing eyes would also be able to see the ridges that bordered the dark forest of Kelíthem, and perhaps, from this height, the dark smudge that would signify the ancient Wood of the Daemons.
But her attention did not waver from her task. She sniffed, and a wan smile spread across her face. She was getting closer.
As she rounded the next corner, a bit ahead she saw the path end. A large gap rent the side of the mountain, carved by such sheer force that only nature could wield over a vast amount of time. The path lay cleaved in two, and a gaping hole lay in the trail, yawning down into black oblivion. Here the shadows still danced, yet untouched by the rising sun. The gap she could have jumped with ease, though it was beyond any mortal feat to do so. But she knew her prey would not have made the leap.
A slight sneer worked it’s way into her expression. The trail did not simply end here. Her prey had not doubled back.
She glanced up. No. Climbing was not his style. Neither would lowering himself into the dark abyss beneath appeal much to her quarry. Leaning slightly over the ledge she looked to her side, at the curving rock wall. Her keen eyes pierced the darkness and thought they saw a bend in the rock. Running along, slightly lower down than the path she was on now was a small ledge. Squatting down she examined the ledge carefully. Cautious manoeuvring would make passage along it possible at a risk. A risk her prey might have taken to feel more secure about his own safety.
Eyes flitted to the sharp rock wall and a hand darted out to snatch something from the rock. Thin layers were shedding from the smooth surface at the Mountain’s near constant battering by the elements, and the jagged mountain had gained her something to prove her suspicions correct – a single hair. Sniffing it made her sure that this dark grey thing did belong to the one she sought, and she smiled with a predatory show of teeth. Beyond the bend in the rock must lie a cave or alcove of some kind, for this was the path her quarry had tread.
Gingerly lowering herself down, her balance and slight shape probably made it easier for her to traverse the ledge than it had been for the one she hunted, and as she rounded the bend, she found herself smiling as the ledge widened out and the rock face split into a yawning hole. It was circular, and looked as if it had been tunnelled, her suspicions roused, she looked across the gap to find a twin cave. But through the gloom she also noticed that this hole had been blocked up. Yes, the banished ones still lived out here, and she must be quick and wary lest they had caught her scent and the huntress became the hunted. But from the way they had blocked up the tunnel she knew that they would not emerge from this opening to attack her, and neither would they spy her from there either. Risking a quick glance about to satisfy herself that there were no other apparent openings, she gripped the hilt of the sword and disappeared into the shadows.
-----
Navigating through the pitch black was not a problem for this woman, her eyes cut through the darkness and enabled her to see well in the gloom. The path turned, and up ahead she spied a faint light reflecting off the glistening walls.
Her footsteps made no sound as she twisted round two more corners until finally emerging into a small cavern. Which was probably why the Banished had merely abandoned this place, it did not lead anywhere and was a dead-end. In the centre, a small fire burned, a few belongings were stashed in one corner and amidst a bundle of rags a man lay snoring.
She waited in the shadows until she was certain that he was asleep and slowly crept closer to him.
Noiselessly she searched him for any weapons, her strong fingers delicately moving over him, her touch like a faint breeze. The man was too deeply wrapped in slumber to stir at any of this. She finally removed a small dagger from under the bundle of cloth he was using as a pillow. Silently pocketing his dagger, she reached into the folds of her own cloak and produced a small metal box. She breathed upon the lid and it opened without a sound.
A moment later a small black worm inched out onto her waiting palm. As thin as a piece of thread and barely longer than a human’s thumbnail, it writhed about on her palm, nosing inquisitively at her flesh – searching for something.
“One moment my sweet one.” She breathed and hurriedly put the box back into the folds of her cloak, producing a dagger of her own next. She lovingly placed the minute worm on the tip of this dagger, and the worm, as if knowing her intent, straightened along the middle of the blade.
Simultaneously placing the dagger at the sleeping man’s throat, the razor sharp edge ripping into his skin, her other hand grabbed his greasy hair, keeping his head back to keep his throat exposed. The worm, as soon as the man’s skin had broken, disappeared into the well of blood.
The man woke with a start and as his hands rose to grab her she allowed her blade to drift deeper into his skin. Knowing the worm to already have burrowed far away from the point where it had entered his sickly flesh.
The man was a grotesque thing, his dark grey hair, flecked with white, was all greasy and matted. His face was old, wrinkled with a hooked nose, and his teeth were yellow, some broken or chipped, and a lot missing. His eyes though, were a thing that unnerved most people. One was normal, hazel, the other as milky white as bone. They both moved and roved around as quick as the muscle’s could spasm, searching for a way out of this nightmare he had woken into.
His gangly thin limbs were entangled in the rags he had been sleeping in, and he stank of unwashed body and filth. The remains of rotting animals lay scattered in the corner, and his eyes often returned to a wooden staff near his belongings, his eyes giving it an aching, longing look before they returned to stare accusingly at the woman.
“You! W-what are you doing here?” he shouted, his voice cracking with rage at his position. There was an altogether slimy edge to his voice, and any being could tell you that there was definitely something not quite right about this man. His very presence reeked of filth and decay and a certain wrongness. The woman knew what it was though, it was the tell-tale sign of soiled magic. He had abused his talent and his magic was now consuming his soul. But given the right access to the right ingredients and herbs, he would live for as long as his brethren who had recently cast him out. In his current situation however, he would not survive another month.
“I have a proposition for you Ikta.” The woman said. Half smiling as the worm reached it’s destination and began to feed her information about the workings of this man’s brain. His thoughts and feelings were now hers to read and analyse, and his actions, if she put enough power into it, would be hers to control. But only when he didn’t do what she wished. Ikta, certainly thought this smile to be one that signalled his doom. ‘The she-devil will get me to do whatever she wants, then I’m damned sure she’ll kill me. Be a damn sight better fate than starving to death here though, but I better not get her angry, her kind are not known for their mercy and kindness once their anger is stoked.’ He thought to himself. “What kind of proposition?” he asked. The woman’s smile widened. “It will be of great worth for you to agree to it, for it will mean that you won’t be left to die here on these cursed mountains.” ‘No, I’ll be dying somewhere else, by your hand no doubt.’ A small voice in his head muttered. The woman continued as normal. “I will put you in a position of great importance and influence on the kingdom of Tímtáé.” She could sense his shock and his curiosity rise tenfold. “What position? And what benefits will this bring you? Why are you asking this of me? I smell a rat, my former brethren would love to hear that you have put your name with one such as I.” “You won’t be telling them anything about me. In fact, if we ever should meet, we should act as enemies. You must mention to no one that I have been here. I have many other allies and servants, one of whom you will be working alongside, and you should refer to me as Tasá.” ‘So, she’s doing something that she shouldn’t. I always thought that there was something slippery about her.’ Ikta thought triumphantly. “And what exactly is the task, my dear Tasá?” If there was a trace of sarcasm in his voice, it didn’t show, only thanks to her worm did Tasá know of his mocking. She allowed her blade to twitch in his flesh and to her satisfaction he winced. “You will corrupt the Prince. Already I have planted the blossoming seeds of evil in his brain. You must feed his greed and pride and ego, raise it till he wants nothing more than his own empire, to crush all the other realms and have them all under his dominion-“ “Won’t that also mean your home, your people?” Ikta interrupted, and regretted it instantly as she sunk her blade in a little deeper. “I am your master now slime, you will do as I say or I shall leave you in these mountains to starve. I might be so kind as to deprive you of your arm as an extra morsel for you to feast upon.” She hissed.
Ikta was quiet. His surfaces thoughts spoke not a word, but fear thrilled throughout him. He was a pig with a cunning mind, but at least he knew of whom to be rightfully afraid.
“You will make him live longer, awaken the dormant magic in his bloodline, and help him swell his army to position him in a ready place for his empire building.” “And what about you?” “I must be seen to act as normal. But have no fear my slimy slave, I will survive the wars and battles that will come. And when the time comes, I will rage a few of my own. I will give further instructions for you when you need them. For now, you must go to the Prince, and you must integrate yourself in his life. Be at his side always, and become his trusted sorcerer and counsellor. You will go under the pretence of being a teacher for the wilful heir to the throne. My spirit-wraith had already readied his mind for such a thing, he wants to know more about the magic in his bloodline, and you can teach him. You must work along-side my spirit-wraith to mould the Prince into the evil ruler he must become.” ‘Do I really want to do this? Become a pawn in her games? What is she playing at anyway?’ “Do you agree to this? Or shall I leave you here to rot?” she whispered. ‘Whatever happens, I am not dying in these mountains. Being the whisper in a King’s ear would be a beautiful position to be in, perhaps when the time is right I could usurp him from the throne, and take the Empire for myself, and then I could cast down the Order of my brethren, and banish them to these cursed mountains, breaking their staffs upon the Ancient Rock.’ Ikta smiled. “I will do as you ask. I will be the whisper in the Prince’s ears.” Tasá sighed, and loosed her dagger from his neck. He was a treacherous servant, but she would be watching him closely, even more closely than he thought. He would do his job, and Tasá would be there to make sure that he would not ruin her well-laid plans. “One step out of line Ikta, and you’ll wish that I had left you here to starve.” She warned. “Now get your things together, we’re leaving now.” “Yes, master.” The sorcerer mumbled, a touch of sarcasm again in his tones, his actions seemed purposely slow. Kicking his crooked back viciously Tasá screamed at him. “Hurry up you slob!” The kick sent his actions into a flurry of motion as he realised his arrogant ways would have to change around his new master, his old Order did not punish like she did.
|
|
|
Post by Shayla on Mar 10, 2007 13:05:49 GMT -5
Chapter 1 Black eyes watched the slow movement of the grazing horses, as a slender figure sat cross-legged in the tall grass. Her own chestnut mare moved in with the others, eating her fill of the rich grass. A slight breeze ruffled the woman’s hair, it was dark, almost black with a purple tint like a bulging thunder cloud. Where the light touched it purple bloomed out from the dark. Her skin was tanned and her face, that housed eyes of complete black, was quite pretty, thought by more than some to be extremely beautiful. She had fangs like those of a stereotypical vampire, and her ears were pointed. Her fingernails were black and sharp, and her slender frame could fool more than a few idiotic humans into believing her weak. She was no human female that spent her days sewing and ignoring the fact that her own arms could wield a weapon just like the males of her race. No, she was a Daemon, and the thrill of the fight coursed through her blood.
Her ages was impossible to judge, for Daemon’s did not appear old, their inner fires simply withered, not their outer frame, until one day they died. Although that depended entirely on what kind of Daemon, for this particular Daemon was a First, the highest kind of Daemon, and this meant that she could live for a countless span of years; unless she was killed in battle.
Her clothes did not speak much about her status though, Daemons were not given to flounce about with finery to show off their ranking and prove to others their high bloodline and power. No, she wore simple working trousers and a simple top. Leather bands covered her forearms, and cleverly concealed in the left one was a small blade. Around her waist was a belt that housed two twin swords and two sharp knives. A dagger lay sheathed in her boot, and who knows where else she had hidden weapons. Even though she was in the heart of her home, this one did not go anywhere unarmed.
For the great clearing of the Daemons spread about her. The Forest had impeded on the great wall that spread about the clearing, rising it’s giant head out above the tree tops. There was an ancient spell which could be unlocked at any time to clear the trees before the wall in case of an attack. But as it was, the trees kept the wall as hidden as possible. In the darkness of the forest, it was easy to get lost, and hard to see far. If the forest sensed a foe, then you would literally have to be able to touch the wall to know that it was there.
“Fëa!” came a voice, and the daemon turned her head, suddenly shaken out of her deep thought. Things had changed so unexpectedly, she needed to think things through, and now the source of all this change was striding towards her. Another First, Darga, had gained much respect in the past few moons, now he was not just a scholar who liked to spend the majority of his time in the Daemon’s library nosing through ancient texts and scrolls, but he was slowly becoming one of the lead figureheads in the Daemon’s world. “Yes Darga?” she replied. It had been he that had discovered something that had, for centuries, remained forgotten. It had wanted to remain forgotten, in fact most of the information on it had been purposely destroyed. There were only two Daemons old enough to remember when it had blazed a burning path of victory through the bloody Dragon Wars. A weapon that powerful had only been used once, and had since been hidden from minds who were not worthy to possess such a power. “I’ve been thinking, about the weapon, the one we can usurp Akkor with.” The male daemon began; Fëa sighed, Akkor had since grown from a Prince to an awful King. He had held his reign of terror now for centuries. The sorcerer that had wormed his way into his counsel and mind had lengthened his life and further blackened his heart. “What about it?” “Well. I’ve read that there were Guardians of it, and that they were attacked by Lizads. But I know nothing of these Guardians, do you, do you remember?” He queried, his voice filled with insatiable inquisitiveness. “I remember that they were witches. Yes, before you ask, they did have roots in the Wittwood but no, their bloodline can no longer be found there. The weapon was given to a strong family of witches, because they were always the most impartial race. None really had quarrels with them, especially at that time. The Guardianship was handed down from mother to daughter. They lived outside of the Wittwood, the entire family. When they were attacked, I don’t know what happened.” “If the Lizads have it, we would know about it.” Darga said thoughtfully. “They would not have gone back to the Wittwood. They would not have brought war upon their people. They would have hidden the weapon, and then hidden themselves.” “Separately?” “Well wouldn’t you? If both were in the same place it would make things too easy for their enemies.”
Darga paused, as if thinking. “I heard you were heading for the Wittwood tomorrow.” He said, as if in a manner of conversation. Fëa cast him a wary glance. “Aye.” “Will you ask about a bit?” “Their Council will see it as war-mongering.” “Surely they can see that Akkor will soon be Empire-building. It is more…” he paused, as if searching for the right words. “Self-preservation.” Fëa sighed. New to the respect of their others, and new to the ways of politics after having been in a world of his own for so long, Darga had yet to learn a lot. But he was learning quickly. “I will do it. But hope for nothing, I doubt there will be any answers in the Wittwood.” Darga smiled warmly. “Thank you Fëa.” He opened his mouth, as if to say more, but then shut it again as if he had thought better of it. He nodded and then walked back the way he had come, leaving Fëa to stare out thoughtfully at the grazing horses.
The daemon sighed and tied her hair back again, she was leaving tomorrow, and she still had a lot of work to do before then.
|
|
|
Post by Shayla on Mar 12, 2007 12:58:31 GMT -5
Chapter 2 A cruel wind toyed with the branches of the forest, even the ancient trees whose roots delved deep and whose trunks stood thick and strong were caught in the fray and creaked and moaned - detesting every minute of the wild storm.
Tasá was old, ancient in her own rights, she had not forgotten the ways of the trees, she had talked to them since they were young and they had not forgotten her, they had always helped her. It was in this very spot, centuries before, that she had wrested a spirit-wraith from the Underworld, and she kept returning to the bitter heart of the forest whenever she could spare the time. That daemon Darga was stirring things up in the Daemonwood, he would cause much trouble for her. All the trees were whispering about it. It had been a long while since he had asked Fëa to journey to the Wittwood to request a meet with their High Council, and now he had had even more time to get the feel of his authority over the other daemons. He had become much more cool and confident. “I suppose he fancies himself like one of the great Firsts of old. All noble and wise, honour oozed from them like acrid pus. Well, he will find that they all died at the end of a blade, and his meddling ways will ensure he dies at the end of mine.” She hissed, more to herself than anything.
The winds of the storm were chill, but the bulk of the forest meant that the air beneath the eaves of the trees was still. An eerie breeze picked up, one that did not belong to the storm, but was the collective voice of the ancient trees. It caressed Tasá’s cheek and her scowl turned to a placid smile. ‘His plans are ripening. The apple has fallen from the tree. Ready for your strong claws to collect.’ “Which plans oh wise ones? The foul thing has many.” ‘The apple that will cause you the most trouble, the apple needs to rot so it cannot grow into a tree to feed the starving lands. The witch my wolf, the young witch he seeks. Her powers blossom ahead of the Spring. All the lands are overflowing with news of this ancient power. She is an oak among her rotted ancestors, an especially strong seed.’ “The witch’s powers? They are ready and matured? Where is she, do you know?” Tasá cried out, falling to her knees in the soil. She could find the weapon she so desired, but it required treading along a hair-thin path, deceiving and tricking all till the very end. ‘That we know not my young wolf. She is ready now, her power is strong. She is the one who will bring your plans to their full glory. Patience will find her my wolf. Go south; into the southern lands of men, into the lands of the King you have planted. Send the rodent ahead of you. His nose will find her.’ Tasá bowed her head. The ancient forest was right. She should send Nashmatí, he and his kin knew the reeking towns of humans well. And Nashmatí and a few of his brethren had an extra special talent. They could sense power. This alone made them invaluable.
Rising to her feet she let out a high-pitched whistle which was replied with by a shrieking whinney. A cursed form cantered into view, the white bones of a horse reared up, the rest of it’s bulk that had once been muscle and sinew was now composed of writhing shadows. Flames burnt inside it’s eye sockets and it snorted a plume of pungent smoke. What had once been a mare danced on skittish fiery hooves, where it stamped sparks flew up from the ground. She was impatient to be off, longing for the plains and open spaces she had galloped across in life.
Tasá smiled and ran her hand across the writhing black shadows of the beast, her fingers finding form and feeling the hairs and warm skin that the mare had once possessed.
“Hush sweet Nifénte, we are leaving soon.” The demon-horse merely tossed her head in reply. Tasá smiled grimly and took out a small black gem from a pouch that had been in her pocket. She took this gem in her hand and squeezed it tight. Black shadows twisting themselves across her till she was nought but a shadowy figure standing next to her horse of shadow and flame. Now none would recognise her. During this wild storm, they would ride faster than the wind, and whisk Nashmatí from Téthurst. His spying on one of her allies there would have to end, tonight. She now had a much more important task for him to fulfil.
Almost as soon as she mounted the shadowy mare, than the beast was off, tearing through the trees as if she were the very wind itself.
-----
Calil tossed and turned on her mattress; during the night she had thrown her quilt off in her fitful slumber, and it now lay draped across a little worn table at the other side of her small bedroom. Her pillow lay slumped against her door, its feather filling leaking out of the gash in it’s side.
It was the middle of the night, in a small village just outside of the town of Gairlich, and the broken shuttered windows let in a thin shaft of pale moonlight, and the bitter winter night’s chill. But other than that thin sliver of silver light, Calil’s room was drenched in utter darkness.
Calil leapt into this darkness as she was shocked from her nightmare-infested sleep back into her cold and familiar dark room. She closed her deep green eyes and breathed deeply. Her long light brown hair was a tangled mess, and her pale skin had goose bumps all over it. Sighing, she stood up and retrieved her quilt and threw it back onto her bed. She snatched up her pillow and threw that too, not noticing the hole in its side. It soared through the air, and a rain of feathers floated down to the floor in it’s wake. Calil groaned, knowing that tomorrow she would have to pick them all up and put them back into her pillow. A small squeak sounded from a box on her table and a warm smile lifted the corner of Calil’s mouth, she went over and stroked the rat inside. She had found him limping through the kitchen and her mother had been about to kill him. It looked as if he had broken a leg, but his leg was fine now yet Calil still kept the little rodent. Her quilt had knocked over his box and he quickly scurried up her arm and nestled on her shoulder. Smiling and whispering softly to the little rodent she went over and collapsed back onto her bed, carefully curling up in her quilt. She cared not for the people who thought that rats were infested with diseases and were channels for demons. There had been no trouble since Simmy, as she had decided to call him, had entered the household.
Curled up in her quilt with Simmy settling down on her pillow, she wished away the remaining fragments of her nightmares. She had dreamt the same old thing – she was in a large and lavishly decorated labyrinth of corridors. Laughter haunted her, alongside taunting whispers, yet somehow she knew that whoever was looking for her didn’t know what she looked like, or where she was yet.
Except tonight she had dreamt something else besides the usual - two terrifying Daemons slaughtering soldiers in a dark forest. Although their blood-splattered faces had been so vivid in her dream, now she could only recall vague details of them. One had skin like the colour of the polished oak tables in the pub she worked in, and gold had worked it’s way into his skin somehow, Calil frowned as she struggled to remember the exact details, but the other one she vaguely remembered to be female, hair dark with a flash of purple, eyes as black as coals, and both had laughter as cruel and merciless as the evil Gods whom they worked for.
Daemons were murderous savages that drank the blood of their many victims, and killed for pleasure. Alongside Lizads they were the most feared and hated races in all of Tímtáe.
However Calil had never seen one. She had been told that they all looked different; one daemon could vary drastically from another. She only presumed that this was to help give weight to the traveller’s stories.
She had heard many far-fetched tales off travellers and merchants when she worked in a pub in the evenings, a small inn on the outskirts of Gairlich. She remembered one old man say that in his youth, he had witnessed a small group of daemons slaughter an entire troop of the King’s Army, and they all escaped without a scratch. That their swords moved at unimaginable speeds, and that one of them was entirely purple, another was huge with horns and spikes, and one set a cargo of weapons the soldiers were transporting to a training camp on fire, the fire spurting from her hands. The old man had said that the fire had been so hot and intense, that all the steel weaponry had been melted into a molten pool.
Other travellers said that they saw Daemons and Lizads fighting. The Lizads being men covered in green scales and spikes; none had ever claimed to have seen a female Lizad yet. The two savage races were said to have an alliance, but because of their violent nature, they often fought and killed each other.
Calil shook her head as if to try and get rid of her thoughts about these two uncivilised races. She should try to get a few more hours sleep before she had to do all her morning chores.
Her days always started early. She fed the animals, then helped their neighbour Emli take her goods to the market and sell them. After the market closed Calil went to the pub to start her shift. She always came back exhausted but she needed to work hard. Calil lived with her mother, and had never known her father, he had been a soldier and had been killed. But since women earned a lot less than men, both she and her mother had to work twice as hard to earn enough money to survive. She knew that tomorrow she would have to work just as hard as she had today, and the day before, why shouldn’t she? She knew from past experience that just because it was her birthday didn’t make the day any more special. And she wouldn’t feel any different, there was no significant leap between being sixteen to being seventeen.
The morning started as usual, with the rooster calling her awake. Calil groaned and grumpily shook off her tattered covers; not realising that she had fallen back to sleep at some point. She rolled over and fell out of bed, landing on the cold solid wood floor with a dull thud. Grimacing she hastily got changed, wrapping herself up as warm as possible. It was nearing midwinter, and the morning frost held a harsh bite.
Their house was simple, two small bedrooms and a large room in the middle that served as a dining room, living room and a kitchen. In their small and simple kitchen Calil grabbed a piece of slightly stale bread and gulped down a glass of water, eating the bread as she went outside, carrying three buckets of feed with her.
First she fed the chickens, breaking the ice that had formed in their water, counted them all to make sure they hadn’t lost any to foxes, and collected any eggs they had laid – carefully placing them in the empty feed bucket. Next she went to the barn that was shared by all the occupants of the small village. They had all built it together, with all the scraps of wood they could manage to spare, and every summer they repaired the damage that the winter storms had inflicted.
It was her turn to feed the pig today, for everyone who lived in the small village had put together money to buy a pig for the midwinter feast. It was a close community, and because none in it were rich, they all helped one another out. If they didn’t Calil wasn’t sure if she and her mother would have lived through the last winter.
Her pony Tami was next on the list, and after emptying the food into Tami’s bucket and breaking the ice in her water Calil sank down against the stable door to finish off the remnants of her breakfast.
She was too big to ride Tami now, but the mare pulled carts and carried baggage to earn her keep and prove that she was still of some use.
As soon as she had swallowed the last mouthful, Calil heard a distant voice calling her name. Sighing, she wearily clambered to her feet, scooping up the empty feed buckets as she did so, and started to trudge back to the house. Upon arriving, her mother took the empty buckets off her and greeted her by hugging her tightly, and Calil found it hard to breathe whilst caught in her mother’s tight hug. Which was perhaps just as well; because if she had been able to breathe properly, she probably would have ended up inhaling some of her mother’s tangled blonde hair. “Happy Birthday dear.” She said. “Thanks Mum.” Calil replied, and when her mother showed no signs of letting her go, Calil pulled herself free, concealing the puzzled frown that threatened to appear on her brow. It was unusual for her mother to be so clingy. “You know you don’t have to go to the market today,” her mother said suddenly and rather quickly. “You-you can do all my jobs and I’ll go to the market for you!” “Umm, that’s ok Mum, I like working in the market.”
Her mother bit her lip and looked into the distance for a while, then looked closely at Calil. She sighed, and was about to say something more, but a shout sounded and Calil turned around and waved at Emli. “I’ll see you later.” She called over her shoulder as she ran over to Emli’s cart, which was filled with goods from both Emli’s livestock, and their own chickens, and anything Calil’s mother had made or that Emli had weaved or sewn.
Calil did not look back, for she had no reason to, so she didn’t see her mother watching her go before turning back into the house with her eyes glistening.
|
|
|
Post by Shayla on Mar 13, 2007 10:54:01 GMT -5
Chapter 3 The market of Gairlich was the usual hustle and bustle that it always was. Pickpockets weaved their way, unnoticed, through a crowd of shoppers guarding their money and goods as best they could; whilst trying to haggle the traders and merchants for a better deal. Everyone was trying to get what they wanted before anyone else did.
Calil smiled and gave change to an old lady who had just bought some items off the stall. She put her money into her purse – carefully concealed out of reach of thieves, then went back to watching the crowd.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a strange figure standing by the fountain in the centre of the square, at the same time she felt that the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. The hood of their cloak cast a dark shadow over their face, but Calil had no doubt that the person was watching her closely, and she couldn’t shake off the tingling feeling she had.
But as instantaneously as Calil had spotted the mysterious figure, they disappeared into the crowd. Calil allowed herself a shiver, whoever that was, it was certainly a person she would never wish to meet. “Calil, are you ok?” asked Emli. “I’m fine.” Calil reassured and forced herself to smile. “I might need you to go and get some change later.” Calil nodded, then as Emli was distracted by another buyer, she went back to the other side of the stall to get herself an apple. Her stomach had been feeling neglected, so she felt the least she could do was have a little snack.
As she straightened again after routing through their basket of food, an arm wrapped itself around her, pinning her arms against her side, simultaneously a hand firmed clamped itself on her mouth, muffling her cry of alarm. She dropped the apple onto the floor, and it rolled away under the cart. Although she struggled against her unknown attacker, they still managed to drag her away from the stall frighteningly easily, and down a nearby street. They were too strong, and no matter how much Calil kicked and struggled, it was no use, and fear was holding her in as tight a grip as the person who was now dragging her down a dingy back-alley.
“If you scream, I’ll knife you, and you’ll never find out what I need to tell you before its too late.” And icy voice hissed in her ear, distinctly female. “Now, are you going to scream?” Calil hesitated as her mind raced over all the possibilities about how she could escape, did this person really have a knife, or was it a bluff? She couldn’t risk it, and however much she knew about self-defence, which was very little and had been taught to her by the other barmaids at the pub, this person probably knew how to counter-act the few moves she knew. Finally, she shook her head slowly.
“Good.” The hand was removed from her mouth and the arm around her spun her around to face her attacker, then let go completely, Calil’s eyes widened and a cold shiver ran down the length of her spine as she found herself standing before the cloaked figure. Everything inside her screaming for her to run, but she found herself rooted to the spot.
“W-who are you?” she stammered. The woman threw back her hood, revealing a tanned, pretty face with green eyes and long brown hair that fell in soft curls. “You are Calil Gadien yes?” the woman asked, obviously searching for confirmation before she revealed anything about herself. “Yes, and who are you?” “You can call me Fëa. Now come with me.” Fëa raised her hand to put on Calil’s arm to guide her down the alleyway, but as she did so her cloak shifted to reveal two mighty twin swords and two sharp-looking daggers sheathed at her side. Calil gasped and began to back away, but the wall blocked her retreat and Fëa grabbed her wrist with surprising speed. “This is very important, you have to trust me. You are no longer safe in Gairlich, but all will be explained later. I cannot reveal any more here. These swords are a means to protect you, think of them in that way.”
Calil gulped. No one but the Guard or passing soldiers form the King’s Army carried swords, and only thieves and cut-throats carried knives like that. And since when did this complete stranger care about her safety? What was wrong with Gairlich? One thing was for sure, this woman made her skin crawl, something was definitely not right. “Calil, you must come with me. The safety of yourself and your loved ones depends on it.”
Calil cast a sceptical glance to the blades hanging from Fëa’s belt. “By that, do you mean that you would kill my mother if I don’t co-operate?” She asked. Fëa gave a quiet snort which could have been of disgust. “I am no ruthless murderer, and I don’t resort to petty blackmail. I can only tell you this, if you stay, people worse than me will come and will kill everyone you have ever known before your very eyes to make you co-operate to their needs.” “But… why?” Calil asked, bewildered, she was unable to get her head around all of this. Since when was she so important as to gain the attention of this scary, and possibly insane, woman? Who were these other people that she claimed to be after her? Fëa sighed wearily. “We really have no time for this. I promise you that everything will be explained later, your mother will be safer with you gone. This is the only way you can save her.”
Calil considered her carefully, her eyes seemed too confident, yet there was a hint of something else deep within her green eyes that Calil couldn’t quite place. Yet neither could she hold her gaze for long and Calil suddenly became very interested in her feet. This could all too easily be a bunch of lies, or a horrible practical joke but who would ever find this funny? “Well?” Fëa asked. “Alright.” Calil muttered. It didn’t seem like she had much choice, she definitely did not fancy herself up against this character in a fight; her mind kept reminding her that Fëa had rather dangerous looking swords hidden beneath the material of her cloak.
All Fëa did was nod in reply and she shot her hand out, and before Calil could react the woman who styled herself as Fëa had an iron-like grip on her wrist. Clearly she was taking no chances on letting Calil have second thoughts as she began to lead Calil down several winding back-alleys, across several small streets, until finally, they emerged out onto a wide street where there were very few people around. Fëa guided Calil across this street towards an old boarded up shop. No other side alleys were in sight. Calil began to wonder at her actions, when she noticed a man in the shadows. Somehow, this strangest looking man that she had ever seen had managed to make himself look inconspicuous. He had the darkest skin she had ever seen, and gold studs were somehow embedded in his skin in a line across the top of this cheeks and down the side of his face up to where his jaw bent, his eyebrows each had two thin gold rings pierced through them, and even more golden piercings wound their way up his ears. His eyes were of the darkest brown that Calil almost mistook them for black, and the plain clothes he wore now did little to hide the fact that he obviously was very strong, for he appeared to have a very muscular physique. For a split second, Calil thought that she recognised this man, but her common sense dismissed the thought instantly.
His ability at staying unnoticed was made all the more curious since he was also holding the reins of three horses, two obviously of a very high breed. In this town, few owned such a high bred horse, never mind had more than one.
“Calil, this is Tripp.” Fëa said, and the man barely acknowledged her as he turned around and mounted the silver mare. Fëa mounted the black stallion that snorted and stamped his hooves on the cobbles. “Well come on child we haven’t got all day!” Fëa snapped impatiently and Calil flinched, if she ran now, they could easily catch up with her on those horses, and she reminded herself again of the weapons Fëa carried. “Your stallion needs to calm down Fëa.” The man said quietly to his friend, his voice deep. “I know, it’s the first time he’s been here.” She replied curtly. “Your mare was more useful at these things.” “Not my fault she got killed. And Serg is an excellent horse.” Fëa hissed. Calil heard all this as she wandered over to the tall brown mare with four white stocking and a proud star adorning her forehead that Fëa was gesturing for her to mount. She couldn’t help but fearfully wonder what had managed to get this old mare of Fëa’s killed. Mounting the mare with some difficulty, as she was only used to riding small horses, and even that experience was a long time ago, she looked up to find her two kidnappers, for she could think of no other word to use to describe them, glaring at her.
“Now that her Majesty is ready, are you quite finished with this miserable little place?” Tripp asked Fëa, his voice was not at all friendly, and although it now held impatience and annoyance in it, it seemed like it would be much better suited to mirth and laughter. “Yes, yes, let’s get out of this dump.” She agreed, and set her fine black steed into a brisk walk.
Calil obediently followed, but wondered at their low opinions of Gairlich. To her it was huge, an interesting place to retreat to, full of shops filled with intriguing items, and nice people. Although truthfully she did not like the grime and stench of the town’s lower class circles, and sometimes she much preferred the countryside, and on the days when she was not working, she would go to the woods by the River Cathos; she could spend hours there. Her favourite place was an old willow tree that grew out over the river and dipped it’s long fingers into the water. Calil would sit there on it’s trunk and barely notice the hours drift by.
They rode to the gates of Gairlich, Tripp had his face hidden in the shadows of his hood, but the Guards were more interested in who was trying to get into Gairlich, not who was leaving it.
They followed the main road in silence until Gairlich disappeared out of sight as they delved down a slope that signified that they were entering the part of the road that drove through the plains. Calil inhaled sharply as she saw Fëa steer her stallion off the road and onto the plains of Nimrokko, she was going to be leading them through the plains?
“What are you doing? The plains are a vast dangerous wasteland! There aren’t any paths and they are full of creatures!” Calil protested. “Hmm, sounds kind of like our destination doesn’t it Tripp?” Fëa mused with a sly smile on her face. Tripp laughed and Calil looked about her helplessly. “Come on, we haven’t got the time for this. Just forget all the fairytales you were told to keep you out of trouble and shut up!” She added, all trace of teasing gone from her voice and expression. She continued on at an increased pace, Calil watched as the distance slowly increased between herself and Fëa, until she realised that Tripp was waiting for her to move. He beckoned to her and Calil felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. She gulped, what was it about these people that made the air feel ten degrees colder?
What she did know was that there was nothing in the direction they were heading in, and the plains were a dangerous place for travellers. However, upon noticing the warning glint in Tripp’s eyes, she reckoned it would be safer just to obey than to put up a fight. As long as she was alive, she could escape and find a way back home. Nudging her horse into a brisk walk, Calil felt her heart sink as she continued to move away from her home and everything she had ever known.
|
|
|
Post by Shayla on Mar 16, 2007 12:28:51 GMT -5
Chapter 4 “We’re going to camp here.” Fëa said finally. “No fires, and don’t talk too loud. Voices can carry for miles to a keen ear here, and we don’t want to attract any unwanted attention.”
Calil didn’t comment on this as she gingerly dismounted her horse. She winced as she tried to walk, her legs were reminding her that she was not used to the saddle. She glanced at the duo she was travelling with; did they really think that she would want to talk to them after they had as good as kidnapped her? They had just ignored her when she had repeatedly demanded to know why they had as good as threatened the lives of her family and friends. All they would say is that they would explain when it was safe to, and going back only put her own life and her mother’s life in a lot of danger. Somehow Calil doubted that, but her eyes kept glancing nervously to where Fëa kept her blades. Escape was on her mind, but the mere thought of those twin swords kept her in check. If she had ever met a person she thought capable of murder without regret, then Fëa was one of them.
Dinner was cold, and not particularly tasty. Tripp had told her that her horse needed a name, and in-between wondering what would happen to her, and what her mother was thinking had happened, she decided on Lunacyn. Fëa and Tripp didn’t bother putting a tent up, so they slept curled up tightly in thick blankets under the stars. Several times Calil had woken up to find either Fëa or Tripp watching her, so escaping in the middle of the night she presumed wasn’t an option.
There were two more nights of travelling in this way. Riding all day, stopping only to rest the horses, eat, and sleep. Still Calil had not learnt a thing, and she didn’t known enough about the whereabouts of places in Tíremtáe to even hazard a guess of where they were taking her. Perhaps to a small village somewhere in the midst of the realm, where no one would think to look? She almost laughed at that, who would to go so much trouble to look for a poor girl if she went missing? All Calil hoped was that they were taking her to a place inside Tímtáe, the King’s realm, instead of anywhere in the Uncharted Lands or into any of the other kingdoms inside Tíremtáe.
As well as wanting to know where she was being taken, Calil longed to know why. Why, out of hundreds of girls her age in Gairlich had they needed her? She wasn’t friends with or related to anyone of importance, she wasn’t important herself; but the only answer she managed to extract from her mysterious capturers was that when it was safe to talk, she would get told everything she needed to know. This frustrated her to no end. They were in the middle of the Nimrokko plains! There was no one else around for miles and miles, why was it so unsafe to talk here?
She was sick and tired of being kept ignorant, they had dragged her away from everything she had ever known, saying that her family would be in danger if she didn’t leave, and on top of all that, they kept treating her like a dumb child.
If Calil didn’t know that Fëa had weapons, and if being around these strange people when they were in – what Calil could only describe as a ‘dark mood’ – didn’t make her skin crawl, then she might have attempted to escape already. But that was impossible. If Lunacyn did manage to outrun their superior steeds, then Calil knew that she would probably get lost and perish in the plains. She was under constant watch too, Fëa always rode ahead, and Tripp always behind, so that Calil was in the middle of the two, and the pair still watched her closely at night.
She was surprised in fact at how she was handling it all. This whole situation seemed so surreal; she could not help but wonder, if she would wake up in her bed back home any time soon. Wake up to the chiding of her mother for being late at starting all her chores.
Sighing, Calil lowered her gaze to her frozen hands, and then absentmindedly stroked Lunacyn’s neck. She missed home. She had never been away from it for so long, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry when she wondered about how her mother was coping without her. How Emli was coping with the stall, and how angry the landlord at the pub would be because she hadn’t shown up for work for days.
When darkness crept over the land Calil barely heard Fëa call a halt, she dutifully dismounted and her frozen fingers struggled to take off Lunacyn’s tack. She accepted her cold supper and ate it without a word. What she was really longing for though, was a simple hot meal. A bowl of soup would suffice. She had always thought winter could be beautiful, but it was a harsh beauty that accompanied the cold, sometimes she even longed to dismount Lunacyn and walk, simply to warm up.
After finishing her food, she silently curled up in her blankets and willed herself to fall asleep, and hopefully not a sleep infested with nightmares.
The next thing she was aware of, Tripp had thrown Lunacyn’s bridle at her head and she mumbled some sleepy incoherent curse. “Get up.” He commanded and Calil lazily rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I am up.” She protested. “Sure looks like it. Get ready.” Calil scowled at him as he turned his back to attend to his mare.
Both her strange travelling companions seemed to have schizophrenic tendencies. Sometimes she caught glimpses of happy, joking personalities before they were taken over by the serious, cold characters she was growing to hate.
After getting the sleepy Lunacyn ready and after she had mounted her, Calil looked towards Fëa who had just mounted her black stallion. The woman looked into the distance, then smiled, which took Calil by surprise, this was a very rare occurrence, and perhaps the first time Fëa had smiled without smirking at a sarcastic comment made by Tripp. “Finally, the end is in sight. We should be there by the end of the day.” She announced. Calil squinted, and then frowned, she had no idea what Fëa was going on about - she couldn’t see a thing. “The end? Where? I can only see these wretched plains stretching out into eternity.” She said tiredly. “Well of course you cant,” Tripp said, “you haven’t got our eyes.” “What?” But neither of them answered her, she saw Fëa shoot Tripp a warning glare before she started to ride away. Calil sighed and nudged Lunacyn into motion, unsure of whether she was more curious, or more scared. She retreated into the farthest reaches of her mind where she wouldn’t let these people bother her. Deep within her memories, she didn’t need to ask why or feel scared. She was amongst the people she loved and cared about, not the two strangers who, at times, scared her out of her wits.
-----
|
|
|
Post by Shayla on Mar 16, 2007 12:30:51 GMT -5
-----
The sun had emerged out of the grey clouds that loomed over the plains, but it didn’t have the power to warm the land up enough to prevent Calil’s breath from turning into mist. Every part of her was cold; her fingers were numb, after a while they seemed to be frozen in place in their loose grip on the reins. Strangely, Fëa and Tripp didn’t seem bothered by the cold, they didn’t seem to wear any extra clothes, or wrap their clothes tightly about them, Calil wondered why she had never noticed this before and shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. Definitely another suspicious thing to add to the long list of their oddities.
After hours of riding, Fëa suddenly reined Serg to a halt, and Tripp immediately followed suit behind her. Calil did her best to stop the sleepy Lunacyn from walking into the rear of Fëa’s horse. They had been in sight of a long black line in the horizon for a while now, but Calil’s questions as to what it was were, as usual, left unanswered. “What is it?” Calil asked wearily. “Shut up girl!” Tripp hissed in a voice so quiet that it was barely audible. ‘Stay quiet child if you wish to live.’ Came Fëa’s voice, Calil almost jumped out of her skin and gave Fëa a look of dismay, fear, and confusion. Fëa’s lips had not parted, she had not made a sound – yet, Calil had heard her voice; inside her own head. ‘Don’t look so afraid. Yes, I’m not speaking out loud, but don’t start to question me now. It is vitally important that you do as I say. If Tripp starts to run you must follow him, and stick close by him, he will protect you. You will take my horse Serg and he will keep you safe if Tripp should fail. Don’t bother about directing him, he knows the way. Now dismount, and don’t speak a word, and be quick about it.’
Calil gulped and forced her frozen limbs to dismount as quickly as possible, Fëa dismounted her proud stallion, took off her cloak and stashed it in her saddlebags; she quickly tied her hair back with a small black band she had about her wrist, and then unsheathed her twin swords.
Calil scrambled up into Serg’s back, then when she looked back at Fëa she inhaled a sharp breath of surprise. Fëa was crouched down low on the ground and although it was the Fëa that she knew, she looked totally different. For now her hair was straight, dark with a glint of purple, her teeth were sharp like an animal’s canines. Her ears were pointy and her eyes were completely black. Now Calil understood why she had feared these folk. Something inside her squirmed, and a smothering feeling of dread overwhelmed her. With Fëa looking like that only helped to increase her anxiety, and a feeling like a trickle of ice-cold water running down her spine made her shiver. She was travelling with daemons.
“Come on out you Lizad slime! Do you think we are blind to your pathetic attempts at an ambush?” Fëa called out, shattering Calil’s thoughts. Fëa stood up slowly, drawing herself up to her full height. “Oh, how clever you must think yourselves. Now come a little closer my dearest daemon, and we’ll have ourselves a dance.” Came a sly hissing voice, and a strange creature emerged from hiding. Calil almost choked. He was a Lizad; how many more creatures from the most ruthless and bloodthirsty races in the whole of Tíremtáe and the Uncharted Lands would she meet today?
This Lizad was a deep forest green, and a large ugly scar ran down his cheek. He was covered in scales, and his garments were made of thick dark brown leather. He had long black hair that was tied back. His cheeks and forehead were fringed with larger, triangular scales that grew away from his face, and his ears grew back horizontally to a sharp point. He had large scales growing up his arms rimmed with a brown colour, starting from his middle finger. He had no fingernails, but the entire tip of each finger was hardened and grew to a sharpened tip. All down his back he had sharp needle-like spikes that were a faded brown colour, and there were holes in his clothes to make way for them. These flexed to pointing away from his spine and to lying parallel to it, so Calil guessed that he could lay them flat when he wanted to sit back or lie down. But now they remained fixed so that they stood up.
In his green hands he held a wide black bladed sword, and a broad shield. His eyes had black slits for pupils but were otherwise completely yellow. The eyes of a Lizad, one of the Menace Races, just like the two daemons she had been captured by.
Others like this Lizad rose up behind him. Most were a light leaf green, others a green a little lighter than grass, but the leader was the darkest, and the lighter ones seemed to be younger than him. Calil glanced back towards her horse Lunacyn who snorted nervously and skittered away from the large group of Lizads.
“Ah, so here we are again Takka, finding it difficult to keep yourself away from me?” Fëa snarled, Calil was almost surprised by the hatred in her voice, before she reminded herself that Fëa was a daemon. They had no other emotions apart from hate and anger. “Oh but this time my dearest Fëagaer, you haven’t got a big group of daemons at your heels. It’s a shame your mare managed it back to that clump of trees you call a home, she was already half cooked, would have made a fine side-course.” Takka hissed. Fëa glowered at him, steadying her grip on her twin swords. “That’s merely an insult to you and your kind Takka, that my wounded mare still managed to outrun you all.” Takka scoffed, and then nodded abruptly towards Calil. “Did you really think you’d get away with the girl?” Calil gulped at Takka’s statement, the Lizads wanted her too? “Your ignorant confidence only stems from the fact that you and your gang of unskilled wimps out-number us. Do you need to be reminded of how well we can fight?”
Calil listened closely, but still she wasn’t getting any answers, just the usual questions. Why was she important in all of this? Why should she trust Fëa? And what was this obviously big plan she was being dragged into? Who should she trust here? She was trapped between two of the Menace Races, not knowing which was worse than the other. But somehow she had a feeling that they were both as evil as each other, and she was doomed either way.
“You honestly think that you’re going to get back to the Daemonwood? Ha! You’re so naive! You don’t stand a chance. Before you get anywhere near, you and your little follower will be killed and we shall have the girl. Rest assured, I will stand for none of your meddling, and it will be my pleasure to finally watch you die.” Takka hissed with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “You talk almost as if you rule all the sections of your race.” Takka merely grinned slyly at her. “My position is healthier than you know. Join me on an excursion back to our home and you can see for yourself. Maybe I shouldn’t kill you…” Takka trailed off thoughtfully and cocked his head to the side. “Maybe I should just make you my slave instead.” “You wouldn’t get the chance.” “Oh yes, how silly of me, I forgot that you’d rather die before being captured, but then, an eternity of slavery would be much kinder than the way I am planning to have you die.” Takka said, smiling cruelly, he took a step forward, raising his sword, and Fëa exploded into action. “Now Tripp!” she yelled and turned swiftly, flames poured down her blades from the hilt of her sword and the daemon threw them past Calil. Calil smothered a scream and looked behind her – Fëa swords were embedded in the chests of two Lizads who had been creeping up on her. She glanced back to Fëa, she was different again, flames burnt in the darkness of her eyes and Calil’s stomach churned. Out of the corner of her eye, Calil saw Tripp twist in the saddle to slay the three Lizads that had been prowling towards him.
He urged Kía into a gallop and Calil found that Serg needed no order to move, the great stallion sprung into a fluid motion, swiftly carrying her away. Lunacyn however did not follow Kía and Serg, the mare reared and galloped off in a direction of her own and Calil almost cried out, then on second thoughts, thought that the mare probably would be better off in the plains, rather than with these daemons.
Calil swung her head back and saw that Fëa had retrieved her swords and was whirling them about at a speed she wouldn’t have thought possible - each blow landing with deadly precision. Lizads already lay dead at her feet and she was fending off the rest. The majority of the Lizads however, were in pursuit of herself and Tripp, and Calil was startled at their speed. Tripp was circling back behind her now, killing the foremost of the pursuing Lizads. Calil fought the urge to vomit. These monsters were certainly ruthless, and upon seeing of the blood-splattered Tripp in action, she cast aside all doubt of all the stories she had heard about them. Daemons most certainly deserved a place amongst the Menace Races, if they were able to kill without hesitation like that. And now Calil was being taken to the very heart of their existence. Serg was speedily taking her straight into the deep dark evil place known as the Daemonwood.
|
|
|
Post by Tasá on Jun 3, 2007 8:46:30 GMT -5
Chapter 5 Tripp and Calil hurtled towards the forest as fast as the horses could carry them; which was surprisingly fast. Calil was certain that no normal horse could run at that speed, and as Calil neared the impenetrable border of dense trees, she shuddered involuntarily. What were they doing to do to her in there?
They had reached the Daemonwood sometime after midday, and the Lizads were still in pursuit. But most stopped their marathon run before even going anywhere near the forest, but a few kept on running. Calil noticed that these were the ones that were the lightest shade of green, and she also realised why most of them had stopped as a rain of black arrows flew out of the trees and embedded themselves in all the Lizads that had ran into range.
The Lizads began to shout at each other in their own harsh tongue, then slowly began to retreat back, moving away back to their leader.
Calil sighed in relief, but now she was in the very beginning of the daemon’s homeland. If Serg had been somewhat more like Lunacyn, she might have patted his proud neck, but this stallion seemed just as cold and fearsome as his master, and Calil had no intention of rewarding him by patting his sweat-drenched neck.
She flinched as a heavy hand was laid upon her shoulder. She looked at Tripp who was regarding her with his usual unfathomable expression. “Come on, let’s get you some food.” Calil gulped, what exactly did daemons eat?
They rode through the forest slowly, following no path at first, but as they got deeper and deeper into the daemon’s realm they joined a path that had appeared from nowhere, a path that meandered lazily through the trees.
Calil usually liked woods – when she got a chance to be in them - but she had never been in a forest. Never mind one that was as vast as the legendary Daemonwood - one whose name was whispered in fear, if it was mentioned at all. Calil was used to the small woods by the River Cathos, but the Daemonwood made them seem as tiny as a mere cluster of trees in comparison, and she had still only travelled through a tiny part of it.
As well as being much bigger, the Daemonwood was also much more scary and intimidating than the woods she was used to. Instead of being light, airy and peaceful, here the air seemed much too close, like the forest wished to smother her. The dark trees loomed overhead, large imposing figures with their knarled and greedy fingers clutching at the sky, as if they had been trying to grab the very stars themselves. They were huge, with dark trunks, and some still hoarded their dark leaves, even in winter. They seemed to gather darkness itself under their branches and suckle it till it spawned and spread everywhere, infesting anything it could get within it’s glutinous grasp and devouring everything that dared to enter this abominable forest into deep dark shadow. Even the sun could not penetrate the dense canopy of intertwining branches that stubbornly refused to let any light through.
Calil shivered as the trees creaked and moaned as the wind hissed through their branches. Yes, this forest definitely suited the word evil, and was a fitting place for the daemon race to call their home.
Tripp, seeming to sense her discomfort cleared his throat with a deep cough, the sudden sound of which made Calil jump in the saddle. Serg grunted underneath and the corners of Tripp’s mouth seemed ever so slightly curved into a smug grin. “The Wood has a rather, overpowering effect on people the first time.” “Only the first time?” Calil scorned, the remark leaving her lips before she could think about it. It might have only been a mild insult in the tone of her voice to this daemon’s home. But it was still something he might take offence to. Serg snorted, as if answering and Calil wondered about the stallion not for the first time. There was something in his eyes that betrayed his animal-like appearance, as if he were much more than just a tame horse. “Just be glad we are only on the outskirts child. Deep in the depths, the Wood becomes treacherous, even to us.” Calil cast a fearful glance about her. “I said in the depths girl. The trees aren’t corrupt here.” Calil frowned, what did he mean about the trees being corrupt? They were just trees. Weren’t they? Looking around her and hearing the hissing whispers and the creaking moans of the branches and the leaves in the canopy above, she could almost believe that these trees were in fact alive, and speaking in a language unknown to her. Scowling at herself for such foolish thoughts she drew back in on herself, refusing to say any more to the daemon and refusing to add any more fuel to the irrational thoughts running around in her head.
The path continued to lead them deeper and deeper into the forest, and Calil could not help but wonder at her fate. What did these daemons want with her was what she really wanted to know, what evil were they plotting? Surely they did not think that she would willingly co-operate? She had come with Fëa and Tripp true enough, but only because she had thought that Fëa would harm her family and friends if she didn’t. Now that she knew that Fëa was a daemon, she was almost glad she had. Daemons didn’t care at all for any but themselves – Fëa wouldn’t have thought twice about murdering those closest to Calil.
She flinched as a voice sounded from behind them. “Tripp!” Tripp turned and grinned, his silver mare, who Calil had learned was called Kía, obediently stopped to allow this new daemon to catch up. “Mac, long time no see! Thanks for getting rid of those Lizads for us.” Calil blinked at Tripp, he was smiling, still smiling. This was the first time she had seen him smile properly, and for this long. Calil looked back at the stranger, but his face was hidden by his hood. “See, in the end, it’s always poor Mac saving your hind.” The stranger said as he came even closer, stopping alongside the horses. As he stopped, Calil saw that his cloak was the same colour as the canopy of the forest, yet as he moved, Calil saw that sometimes the colour shifted to the different colours of the forest, like the darker shade of shadows, the brown of the tree trunks, and the dark shades of green. A bow and quiver of arrows was slung across his back. Calil’s eyes widened as this new daemon threw back his hood to reveal his face.
He was red, totally red, a deep red with tiny veins of burgundy and a brighter red running all over his skin. His eyes were red and tiny flecks of gold streaked out from his black pupil. He had no hair, and strangely, he had no nose, just two small slits for him to breathe through. Also, Calil noticed as she averted her eyes away from his gaze; he had a long red tail. “Hey Tripp, is this the girl?” Mac asked. “Yeah-“ Tripp began, but Calil interrupted, her temper flaring after being treated like a foolish child all the time. “I do have a name you know, and I can speak for myself!” she snapped. Tripp glared at her, the movement of his jaw suggested that he was grinding his teeth. “Fine.” He started in a very forced voice. “Mac, this is Calil. Calil, this is Mac.”
Calil sighed in exasperation, and then thought she at least needed to be polite, who knows what these daemons would do to her if she got them too angry? Her mother had always taught her never to forget her manners, and it never did to make too many enemies. Though the appearance of this new daemon scared her, she held out her hand for him to shake, and forced a smile. “Pleased to meet you Mac.” Mac just looked at her outstretched hand questioningly and Tripp sighed loudly. “Come on Calil.” He said tiredly. His silver mare snorted and at no given command, she and Serg started forward at a brisk walk. Calil realised she felt like useless baggage sat on top of this stallion. Fëa was his only rider, and Calil doubted that he would listen to a single command she gave.
|
|
|
Post by Tasá on Jun 3, 2007 8:47:53 GMT -5
“Where’s Fëa? Keeping Lizads hatchlings busy?” Mac asked as he followed alongside Kía. “Yeah, Takka tried to ambush us.” “What? Takka!” Mac cried in alarm. “You left her fighting Takka and his gang? By herself!” “Well I didn’t exactly have much choice did I?” Tripp retorted, “If Calil had gone on by herself those Lizads would have caught up with her and captured her!” “But-“ “-and you know what Fëa is like, slippery as an eel. She’ll worm her way out, but she’d also rather die than see the girl at the hands of Takka. ”
Calil bit her tongue at Tripp calling her ‘girl’ again, but could not help but wonder, who sent these daemons on a mission? What person in their right mind would want to employ such beings?
“I know exactly what she’s like,” Mac said, “but Takka! Tripp, you know he hates Fëa more than anyone else, you know he wants revenge and won’t be happy till he’s cut her up into a thousand tiny pieces!” “Don’t you think I know that?” Tripp growled, and then sighed. “But he won’t kill her; you know that, he’ll do worse. But most of the Lizads followed us.”
Calil frowned, wondering what the daemons considered as worse than being cut into pieces, then remembered Takka’s warnings of slavery, she hadn’t taken much notice of Fëa’s reaction then, but she vaguely recalled she had seemed to tense more. Seemingly, Daemons had at least one fear – enslavement. Calil smiled slightly to herself, there had been an old solider in her village, and he used to tell her so many stories when she was younger, a vital moral he always used to put into these was ‘know your enemy.’ At least Calil could turn her current situation into some kind of advantage, she could learn so much about these foul creatures. ‘Although,’ a dark thought muttered in the back of her mind, ‘it won’t matter much, if you don’t get out of here alive.’
“But Calil is on Serg, how is Fëa going to get away?” Mac asked, snapping Calil out of her reverie. “She has the horse we bought for Calil.” Tripp replied. “And that’s not her only means of escape.” Another voice said, Calil snapped her head up to find herself looking at another daemon stood ahead of them in the middle of the path. His long hair was black, and he looked human enough, apart from his deep purple eyes and the metallic blue tint to his skin. “Kanis has gone after her.” this new daemon added. “Darga.” Tripp said respectfully and bowed his head in welcome. “I am glad to hear that.” “Come.” Darga commanded and he slowly turned around and continued up the twisting path, they all followed dutifully and Calil’s forehead creased into a deepening frown. Whoever this daemon was, he must be very important.
Eventually the shadows among the trees seemed to have become so complete that they had created a solid mass. But as something glinted in the distance, Calil suddenly realised what she was faced with. As realisation dawned, shel found herself looking upon a high black bricked wall that reared up high above the height of the trees and stretched out to either side until it disappeared into the distance. Calil was reminded of the defensive wall encircling Gairlich, but Gairlich’s wall was a lot smaller, and a lot less imposing. It was made of wood and stone, and it was evident that it had been made using the least amount of money possible. King Akkor had decreed that all the major cities should have walls to keep out the Menace Races and to protect his people; but they didn’t seem to be as well constructed as this wall. Made entirely out of black stone, the walls on the outside were smooth with no big cracks for anyone to climb up, at the top; she thought she could make out slits in the wall. Why did they need it? Surely no one was stupid enough to attack the Daemons? Everybody knew that doing so would be suicide.
Two guards stood at the strong iron gates that were currently open, as if they were expected, and the guards parted their crossed spears to allow them to pass. They looked similar enough for Calil to guess that they were closely related. Both had the same peculiar white eyes with a startling green pupil, and their skin was orange and green. They eyes slid to Calil as she rode past them on Serg and she hurried averted her gaze.
Past the high black wall Calil found a vast clearing spreading out before her. Lush green grass rippled in the cold breeze of winter, and small patches of some of the formidable trees had entreated in from over the wall in places, in one place, two groups seemed to be trying to grow together to cut off some other part of the clearing. On the left, mountains reared up out of the ground, the trees running up their legs whilst everlasting snow had settled on their lofty heads. After the claustrophobic forest, all this open space was almost breath-taking.
A number of buildings stood in this clearing. To the left four colossal trees grew up and then towards a midpoint, but were so far apart they didn’t quite touch, but the span of the branches was remarkable, and Calil would have thought impossible. It was as if the daemons had taken four ordinary trees and stretched them and moulded them as they wished. Black rope ran from the trees, criss-crossing from each tree, and hanging from this rope were lanterns that lit up the long tables that were nestled beneath the four giant trees.
A little along from this was a simply built wooden building made of dark wood that a small daemon ran into carrying a bucket filled with freshly collected berries. A slight crease appeared between Calil’s eyebrows as she frowned. If it was that close to the tables, perhaps it was some form of kitchen?
On the right was another wooden structure with a wide front porch. From what Calil could see, this was the only building that had an upstairs, although she was given no clue as to its purpose. Along from that loomed a large wooden building, constructed with the same dark wood as all the other buildings, it was taller than the other buildings, but with only small windows at the very top, Calil guessed that it didn’t have an upstairs neither.
However, the thing that caught Calil’s attention the most was the building in the centre of the clearing. It stood tall and proud, and sent a shiver down Calil’s spine. It’s thousands of peaks and pinnacles had razor sharp points, and it grew up like a strange elongated black candle flame. But with a lot more jagged edges and points than seen in a candle’s flame. And no flame ever had spike jabbing out of it’s sides to tear at the sky. As Calil squinted at it as they rode closer to it, she wasn’t sure how it was created, it seemed like the entire building had been made out of one impossibly gigantic slab of rock.
As the horses carried them even closer to this structure, Calil felt a sudden wave of terror grip her. Yearning to look away, but unable to do so, she saw that it’s smooth black exterior had tantalising hints of shimmering runes and images on it’s surface, but as Calil tried to look at them more closely, she could only see black, but could see the same rune or image further up or along the wall, and if they didn’t want to be scrutinised too closely. Calil shuddered at the thought, and then looked up, expecting a building with such a smooth surface, looking a lot like marble, to reflect the light from the sun. Strangely, this building reflected only a strange blue gleam that winked at her from on top of the many spikes that viciously stabbed upwards. If Calil stopped moving this strange blue light seemed to shimmer and continue to dance over the surface like the runes did. Calil hurriedly looked away, concentrating on Serg’s withers. Whatever it was, it was a creepy-looking place. Was it the daemon’s place of worship? What terrible things must they do in there? Calil had heard stories about religious followers who sacrificed animals, and even people, to satisfy their Gods. Where they going to sacrifice her? Calil paled at the thought and gulped, her chilled knuckles turned white as her hands gripped the reins even tighter.
Trying to focus her mind on other things, Calil began to wonder where these daemons slept – if they slept at all. For none of these dark wooden structures that she could see were big enough to house enough rooms for all the daemons that she supposed existed. Surely it wasn’t just a small group of daemons that resisted the rule of King Akkor and wreaked havoc throughout the lands of Tíremtáe? They had passed the tall black temple now and Calil stole a glance back at it. They didn’t live in there with their evil Gods, did they?
Calil sighed, and looked again at her surroundings, ahead of her was another large wooden building, horses grazed in herds around it, and Calil could only presume that it was the stables.
Calil flinched as her trail of thought was disrupted as Serg halted, she noticed that Tripp had dismounted and she hastily followed suit. Casting a glance at the stallion she had been riding, she was surprised to see that even after the long run to arrive at the Daemonwood, he still held his neck in a tall proud arch, giving off the impression that he was not at all exhausted and could still run another marathon if necessary. His fiery eyes were boring into Calil and, unnerved by the intense edge of cruel intelligence in that glare Calil averted her gaze, only to find the newest daemon, Darga, staring at her.
“Your name is Calil Gadien, yes?” he asked. Calil nodded slowly, she had not noticed that her mouth was dry, probably because of her nerves, so she didn’t trust herself to speak. “Well Calil, I shall show you to your room, since no doubt Tripp will want to see to his horse, and Mac should be guarding our outer perimeter.” Darga’s purple eyes narrowed at Mac, who shrugged slightly then mumbled something inaudible. “W-when will I find out why I’ve been brought here?” Calil asked suddenly, not noticing Tripp roll his eyes. Darga smiled, almost kindly, which probably meant he was a very good actor. “You will find out as soon as Fëa returns. Much must be explained, and parts of it she knows better than anyone.”
Calil frowned slightly, then the look changed to that of puzzlement when all three daemons simultaneously diverted their gaze skywards. Calil looked up, and her mouth dropped open. Part of her wanted to run away, the other part didn’t believe what she was seeing and demanded she wake up out of this crazy dream she was having. But her legs did not budge, and would not comply with the part of her that screamed for her to flee, so she simply ended up staring at what was up above her.
For a great winged figure was slowly descending, it’s large leathery wings sent gusts of air down to greet the grounded group, and Calil noticed that it was carrying someone in it’s muscular arms.
As it landed, Calil was able to look at it in more detail, and she saw that it’s body mostly resembled a man, but he, for it was definitely masculine, was covered in steel grey fur. His leathery wings were a darker grey, and covered in a thin spread of small fine hairs, barely noticeable unless you looked closely. He had a wolf’s face with sharp white teeth and a keen nose, far-seeing eyes and acute hearing. He also had a bushy tail tipped with black, and his large hands had black claws instead of fingernails. His broad sword was sheathed at his side, and he wore black trousers and a wide leather belt, but his fur-covered torso was bare. Although he looked like he was capable of terrible things, at least to Calil, he handled his passenger, or victim, with great care - seeming to be very careful not to harm them with his sharp claws.
His clawed hands gently set the woman on her feet, and Calil recognised her as Fëa, Tripp and Darga immediately rushed over to them, shortly followed by Mac and Calil edged a little closer, her curiosity growing. “Fëa, are you ok?” Tripp asked, a biting edge of concern creeping into his voice. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Fëa mumbled and she took a step forward, she swayed and the winged wolf man – who had now turned into a normal looking man with slightly long dark brown hair, deep brown eyes and sharp looking features – caught her before she fell. “Kanis, what happened to her?” Darga inquired. “When I arrived, there was only Fëa and Takka left. She only got this wound.” Kanis explained and undid a hasty bandage to reveal a gash in Fëa’s side. It began to seep crimson blood again, but the wound looked nasty, almost septic. Calil was no expert, but there was something wrong there; apart from the fact that she had a bleeding wound in her side. “It was bleeding a lot,” Kanis continued, “but she wouldn’t be affected by it this badly. Takka had a poisoned blade!” “That scumbag, can’t even fight fair!” Tripp spat. “But, other than the Engels, who can make a poison that can affect us?” Mac asked. “I don’t know, but we’ll worry about that later. Fëa needs to get to the Healing House.” Darga said, and the others nodded, and with Tripp carrying Fëa they hurried across the dark twisted grass back towards the building that had an upstairs, the one with the wide front porch, and now Calil knew it’s purpose. As they all hurried towards it, Calil shuffled slowly after them, keeping her distance, but she knew for sure that she didn’t want to be left on her own; even if the alternative was the company of daemons. What if she remained with the horses, and other, scarier daemons came up to her? There was no escaping this clearing, the giant wall around it made sure of that.
|
|
|
Post by Tasá on Jun 3, 2007 8:48:25 GMT -5
As the daemons reached the building they called the Healing House, Calil saw Darga kick the door open and they all squeezed inside. Calil cautiously approached; listening carefully to the commotion that was unfolding inside whilst she hovered by the porch steps. All she could hear was a confusing torrent of voices, each fighting to make themselves heard. Calil couldn’t even tell whom each voice belonged to, suddenly it dawned upon her and she shivered involuntarily, and not because of the chill of the winter’s day – they weren’t even speaking in Angla, the common language of Tíremtáe. No, they were speaking in their own harsh tongue.
Sighing, Calil turned and sat down on the step with her back to the doorway. If only she were back in Gairlich - it wasn’t fair that the daemons had picked her for whatever cruel intents they had. Her life wasn’t perfect, but before all of this it had been blissfully simple. Now, she didn’t know what was what.
A little while later Kanis and Mac wandered out of the dark doorway, Calil shuffled to the very side of the step and looked from one to the other; but her attention was distracted as Tripp thundered out of the building, his expression livid, and he made a primitive snarl of rage as the door slammed shut behind him. “Dush-dalá aka mundai ikoo-chala ikkai mishi-alla!” he cursed and punched the solid wood beam that helped to support the roof of the porch, the beam splintered and bent under the force of his fury and Calil glanced up to the roof, but it stayed hovering above their heads. She gulped and tried to push herself back away from this frightful vision of Tripp, but she only found wooden framework digging into her back, preventing her from increasing the distance between herself and the frustrated daemon.
“Are we quite finished now Tripp?” Kanis asked quietly. Tripp only glared at him in reply and he stormed off across the grassy clearing, emitting a piercing whistle to which both Kía and Serg replied to by whinnying and running towards him. Calil watched until the horses and Tripp disappeared out of sight behind the large wooden structure that loomed next to the Healing House.
“Remind me never to get on the wrong side of him.” Mac snorted and winked at Calil, who gulped nervously. Mac sighed at the obvious lack of amusement he had caused. “W-what did he say?” Calil managed to ask after a while. “Hmm? Oh, just something about nurses being…” Mac paused and frowned slightly. “Well I think you get the gist of it from his tone.”
Calil stared at the ground at her feet, not sure what to say, after all, what could you say to a daemon? She could tell that Mac was looking at her, the thought made her skin crawl, and after a while she heard him sigh. “Well I suppose we should show you to your room and get you some grub.” He suggested. “Correction, Mac will show you to your accommodation and provide you with food; I have other things to do.” Kanis said, he nodded curtly then strode off, Mac pulled a face at his back, and Calil didn’t know whether it made her want to laugh, or whether it made her more afraid. “Some say he’s full of self-importance because he’s the only living daemon that can fly.” Mac commented, staring blankly into the distance. “Other who know him better argue that they think he’d be like that if he could fly or not.” Mac’s red eyes returned to Calil and he smiled. “Ah well, come on, I’ll show you to your room.” He said and stood up, Calil hastily followed suit when she saw he was about to offer her his hand to help her to her feet.
She avoided looking at his face, and said as little as possible as Mac lead her behind the Healing House to one of the many forest paths, one that wound its way towards the forest covered mountains alongside the clearing. Soon the red daemon gave up trying to make conversation, and Calil relaxed a little more in the silence. The path they were following joined with many others to form one wide path that eventually led to a hole in the mountainside. Calil noticed this had two thick oak doors, but they were swung open right now.
A long corridor ran down from the entrance with doors either side of it. The way was lit by a multitude of lamps, and it twisted around out of sight.
However, Mac did not go down this corridor; instead he turned to the left and began climbing up a twisting flight of worn stone steps. As soon as his red tail disappeared out of sight Calil followed after him, deciding that when she couldn’t see the daemon, it would be easier to imagine that she was on her own, and not in the Daemonwood.
The stairs kept on going up, and Calil was soon out of breath. They passed many doors where the stairs levelled out to form a flat space, and these doors were always black with a strange symbol on them. Once or twice Calil passed one of these doors when they had been left open, but she only saw a corridor similar to the one on the ground floor where it stretched endlessly down till it twisted out of sight. She was tired and out of breath – the stairs were exhausting – but just when she thought that her legs couldn’t possibly take her up one more step Mac stopped before one of the doors. Calil just had time to note that the silver symbol on the door was of a snake lying in a coil eating it’s own tail.
“There is a guestroom on this level.” Mac explained as they walked down the long corridor lit by strangely shaped lanterns. A flame burnt inside a glass sphere, which had been inserted into the mouth of some disfigured, evil-looking creature. Each lamp was different, some creatures looked like they were eating the light, like it was their sole purpose in life, to devour all light and leave only darkness. Others looked like fire burned in their bellies and that they would spurt it out of their mouths at her at any second. Calil could not see their bodies or how they had been attached – they had seemingly been sculpted out of the walls themselves.
They passed nine doors in total, Mac stopped at the tenth door and opened it for her. “You should feel honoured. Only one person has ever stayed in this room, she was a Queen.” Mac said and Calil stared at him in disbelief, why would any Queen stay with the daemons, and why was she, a poor girl from Gairlich, so important as to be given a room this luxurious? “Its true.” Mac protested in answer to her sceptical glance. “Only one person has ever been considered important enough to require the protection of the Firsts. Although here our borders are very well protected, there’s no need to feel that you’re in any danger at all.” Calil laughed, “That’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard!” she scoffed, unable to stop herself. She didn’t know enough about this daemon to know whether the expression he wore now and the way he flicked his tail was because of hurt or annoyance. “What’s ridiculous?” “One, that I could ever be of such importance, and two, that I needn’t feel like I’m in any danger. I’ve been kidnapped by daemons, how can I not feel in danger?” Mac frowned slightly. “You are important you’re-” but the red daemon stopped himself and shook his head slightly. “Just… well why would we go to so much trouble if you weren’t important? Anyway, we’re not as bad as that King of yours makes us out to be.” “Yes you are, I’ve seen what you’re like! Now I know all the stories I once dismissed as exaggerated are true!” Calil caught her breath, surprised by the venom in her own voice. The daemon inhaled slowly, as if calming himself, and gave Calil a level look. “If all the things I have heard about humans are true, I would never want to leave the Wood.” He said quietly. Calil frowned, confused. “What things?” “Your soldiers, haggle women and force themselves upon them. Your culture is so sexist, almost everything is a taboo and anything that your society classes as ‘not normal’ is unaccepted, shunned, and quashed. You steal, kill, lie. The rich who have a vast abundance of money do nothing to help the poor…” Mac stopped and sighed, looking down at his feet. “I’m not saying that every daemon is a saint. We have a totally different culture and way of viewing things. Each race had a bad reputation somewhere; you can’t be liked by everyone.” Calil scowled, she couldn’t disregard most of that. “Well tell me what’s so great about you daemons then.” Mac shrugged. “Well, we have no money here. We only have money to buy things in from the outside, and for the daemons who go out to the towns. All the food and everything is shared out equally. It didn’t used to be like this though. You can see that the Firsts were viewed more highly than all the other daemons simply by the way the rooms here are set out. The Firsts are at the top level.” “Maybe you can work without money, but Tímtáe wouldn’t be able to run without it. And anyway, our society is nothing like what you said. It’s full of good honest people. There are just some bad people out there making us all look bad!” “It’s the same for us-“ “No its not! You’re ruthless murderers! You kill innocent victims, all the soldiers who sign up to help protect good honest people you murder!” “I cannot deny that the soldiers lose lives, but only because they are forced to do the bidding of an evil man.” He said in a quiet voice. “Evil man? Kin Akkor employs them so that you don’t ruin the whole of Tímtáe! Tímtáe would be peaceful if you daemons didn’t come on your little killing sprees.” “That’s exactly the propaganda I was told he fed to his people. We fight for a good cause. I only hope you’ll understand that soon.” The red daemon replied after a while. He sighed, and gestured to the room. “I’ll bring up some food and some clothes for you. I suggest you relax and take a bath.”
Calil opened her mouth to say something else, but decided against it and walked into the room. She heard the door shut behind her, but no lock click. The daemons must be pretty confident that they could stop any escape attempts with ease.
Sighing, Calil began to explore her extravagant prison. It was huge; the living room alone was bigger than her entire house back in Gairlich. It was elegantly furnished, with dark oak furniture and comfortable looking armchairs and sofas. She had a dining table that would seat six, a writing desk, bookshelf filled with all sorts of books, and paintings hanging on the walls. In her bedroom wardrobes lined an entire wall, a dressing table against one wall, and the bed was enormous, and admittedly looked very cosy. The bathroom housed a bath that looked like Calil would most likely drown in.
But out of all this what caught Calil’s attention the most was the window in the main room. A hundred different pieces of coloured glass mingled together to form an image of two beautiful multicoloured birds in flight. The window opened up onto a balcony, and the view below was spectacular. A large clearing spread out from the mountain’s feet, rimmed with the encroaching forest that had seemed so threatening before. Here, way above it, it was easier to forget that. Also, out on the balcony, the winter air seemed even colder at this high altitude. But the forest spread out endlessly, rearing up in the distance where it covered more mountains or hills, until the line of green on these giant beasts ended, and was replaced with grey rock, then finally, everlasting white snow. Calil looked down at the mountain she was on right now, trees lined its bottom, but she seemed to be in the grey midst of it. Up above, she saw tantalising hints of white.
A sudden knock at the door made her jump, and shivering now from the cold, she made her way off the balcony, closing the beautiful glass doors and uncertainly making her way towards the door, opening it slowly, only to find herself staring into the deep brown eyes of Tripp.
“Oh, it’s you.” “You sound disappointed.” He drawled, and Calil scowled at the sarcastic tone, but the daemon slipped past her into the room without waiting for her to invite him. Probably because he had guessed that she wouldn’t invite him in. “I hope everything is to your liking?” “Yes, it’s a very fancy prison cell, thank you very much.” She replied sourly. “This isn’t a prison Calil.” He said tiredly. “This is for your own protection. I came here to tell you that dinner is at sunset, Mac will be coming up to get you, I believe he’s coming up soon with a change of clothes for you. After dinner why we brought you here will be explained to you, and what will happen to you next. And I’m here with your lunch, since we missed that earlier.” Tripp gestured to the small table by the door, Calil’s eyebrows rose, he must have put the plate down when he had slipped past her, but she hadn’t noticed him do it. Confused, she mumbled a quiet thank you.
“Well, I’m going to check on Fëa… so unless there’s anything you want?” “No…” “Right then.” “Wait.” Calil called as he turned to go, the daemon paused and looked back at her almost warily. “How is she?” A pierced eyebrow rose ever so slightly. “She’s… I’m not sure. The wound is healing well, and we’ve flushed the poison out of her bloodstream. Its just, we’re immune to all the poisons that you humans are not. Only Engel’s can concoct a lethal poison for us. That Lizads like Takka have something that can affect us is… worrying.” “But, aren’t you allies?” Calil regretted the question as soon as she had said it. Tripp looked outraged, so disgusted that she would even dare to suggest such a thing. “We would never ally ourselves with those… those trasgats!” he spat, his voice seething with anger. “They have no honour, they have no morals. They are everything you are taught that we are.”
At that, Tripp turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him. Calil winced. “Well,” she muttered to herself, “I seem to be making a habit of upsetting daemons today. It’s a miracle I’m not dead yet.”
|
|
|
Post by Tasá on Jun 3, 2007 8:56:23 GMT -5
Chapter 6 Calil decided to take Mac’s advice and bathed, being very careful in the bath for she had no idea how to swim, and was paranoid of drowning for the bath was the largest she had seen. However she was happy to find that she didn’t have to fill it all the way to the top, just to a level where she could sit on one of the steps leading down into it and feel quite safe.
Back at home they never had the luxury of warm baths, and they never had anything that they could fully submerge in. Calil had once paddled in the River Cathos, way up-river in one small tributary which was shallow and not polluted by the wastes generated by Gairlich. The River Cathos was not the cleanest river, waste from Gairlich mingled with the waste of Dewbay at the very mouth of the river, and, further up-stream, another tributary stemming in the Barra Hills, it was polluted by the wastes generated by the city of Résha. That seemed like such a long time ago, she had only been a young child, and had only waded in up to her knees, so she hadn’t feared it. Now, she began to wonder if the daemons would laugh at her if they realised that she didn’t know how to swim.
But after putting all her fears of drowning aside; Calil began to enjoy the soothing warm waters and the fragrant oils that she would never been able to get at home.
When she came out the bathroom, dressed in a dressing gown made of the softest fleece she had even seen, she began to look at all the clothes that Mac had brought up for her. It seemed that he had come up with an armful and more, either making more than one trip, or with others helping him. He had left a note too, apologizing for the quantity, but explained that they didn’t know her size and what she liked.
After routing through them all, Calil finally picked out a long green skirt and a pale green long-sleeved top that was cropped about her shoulders; she also found a black jacket that looked nice and warm for when she had to go outside later, and some comfy black shoes.
Glancing out of the window, she saw that the sun had not set yet, she guessed she had a good hour or so to kill until sunset and the arrival of Mac. A slight frown appeared on her features, and exactly what did they expect her to do in that time? Usually, Calil rarely had to deal with boredom, normally she had too much to do. Wearily wandering back into the living room, she noticed one of the bookshelves filled with books. She had been taught how to read by her mother, it was a skill passed down through the family from a very well educated relative; but she hadn’t had hold of a book for years, never mind had one to read.
She began to rummage through the books on the shelf, a lot of them seemed to be numbered as accounts of years, ages long past, although Calil didn’t really take too much interest in history, she had heard that history books were boring, and she wanted something to keep her amused till it was time to leave. Spotting a thick book that bore no title on the spine, her curiosity sparked as a thick piece of parchment fell out of it as she pulled it from the shelf. Calil had never had to judge the age of parchment, but it seemed rather old, so she warily picked it up and unfolded it carefully, she instantly recognised it as a rather rough map, and some parts of it even seemed rather familiar. Reaching for an armchair she dragged one closer so that she could sit down and study the map better.
For the most part she didn’t recognise any landmarks or names of towns, Calil still had heard numerous tales from travellers who visited the inn she had worked at in Gairlich, and so she could place vague tales and stories to some of the names. She did however, recognise the names of all the towns in the land of Tímtáe – King Akkor’s realm. Also the names of the lands within Tíremtáe, which was the cluster of realms that had all been allied, until the Menace races came and destroyed all of that, but for some odd reason, the place as a whole still held onto the name.
This map mentioned the locations, not only of all the major towns in Tímtáe, but showed places in detail in the Uncharted Lands, Kelíthem, and most of the Daemonwood, the Barra Hills, the marshes of Faera, and the Wittwood. All the kingdoms that were not a part of Tímtáe, all were outside of King Akkor’s control.
But this map however, showed beyond the Wittwood to reveal the shape of the coastline there, and the two forts that guarded Tímtáe from the Pirates that came from Hunntag’s Cove; right up to Hunntag’s Cove itself, and what the map called the Bannt Mountain Range. Calil suppressed a shudder as she realised however made this map must have gone very deep into the Uncharted Lands, a place where no sane man would dare to tread. It was a place rampant with criminals, and the playground of the Menace Races. West of the capital city of Tímtáe, Taríheem, seemed to be absolutely nothing, although there was a curious dotted line encircling an area of land, simply labelled ‘The Engel’s realm.’ Seemingly, even the daemons did not know exactly where the Engel’s kingdom was.
Up North from this stood five cities with decidedly evil-sounding names; Calil frowned slightly at the top left of the part of the map, where the lines finished abruptly, not too far from the largest city called Zett, which was labelled the Lizad capital in writing by a different hand.
Calil’s gaze finally returned to the book which seemed to be a journal of some kind. She opened it to the first page and read the date, ‘Midwinter 109.’ Calil’s brows rose in disbelief; that meant that this book was almost 1000 years old! It was some miracle that it was not falling to bits, however much touching it made her skin tingle, her curiosity demanded to be abated, so she tried her best to ignore the eerie feeling. Handling the book much more carefully now, she began to read.
‘I, Gethwattam Tathgrat, have took it upon myself to map out as much of this world we live in as possible. Since the decaying of the old alliances, man’s rise to power and status, and the war between our race and the Engels, all the old maps that were few and far between have been destroyed or hidden. Also, I and the council of the Firsts fear the activity of the Lizads has increased. Since our numbers have lessened they have been becoming more bold and journeying farther south from their origin in the far reaches of the North and setting up more than just temporary camps we deem. The mission is a dangerous one I know, especially for a lowly scholar such as myself who is not as great a fighter as many of the daemons dwelling here, but if I succeed my map should be of great use to our race. That is my intent, and I hope that I do not fail…’
Geth then went on to describe various stages and mishaps of their journey and Calil found herself skipping entire sections until she reached the last few pages where Geth’s handwriting had become uncharacteristically untidy.
‘and now the Lizads have found our camp. I can hear their savage cries even if I can’t yet see them. We were once a group of five and now only dear Wyth and myself are left. I know that if It comes to a fight I shall only be of hindrance and that she is more likely to survive this, so I will try and convince her to take this journal and with it the incomplete map back to the Wood. The Firsts would probably never even have dreamt how much the Lizad population has multiplied, or dared to consider how far south they have moved. I wonder wh- here they come!’
“He was killed.” Came a voice that made Calil jump out of her skin, but it was only Mac standing by the door, smiling slightly to see her jump at the sound of his voice. He smile widened and he gestured to the book. “You like it?” “I didn’t know there was more to Tíremtáe other than the few lands surrounding Tímtáe… or that the Uncharted Lands were so huge. I didn’t know Hunntag’s Cove was so far north.” Calil paused for a second, then thought she would get both sides to the story. “Why, why did the Me-“ she stopped herself from saying ‘Menace Races’ just in time, “Why does the lands around here still carry the title of Tíremtáe?” she asked. “Because it hasn’t been that long since the old alliance fell.” “Why did you drive the original residents out? I mean, why didn’t you just stay where you lived before?” Mac frowned, confused. “Where we lived before? Oh!” Realisation dawned upon his peculiar red face and he shook his head slowly. “We have always lived here. Humans, Daemons, Witches and Engels used to all live together peacefully. But with Akkor feeding his people such lies about us all, I guess he needed to lie about the old alliance too.” “We were allied with you?” Calil muttered, shocked. “Yes. It was the Lizads that came from the far North, beyond where anybody has mapped, and they flushed your ancestors from your homes.” Calil frowned. “Well if the Engel’s were in on the alliance too, why aren’t they included in Tíremtáe?” “Because they didn’t want to be. When they severed themselves from their allegiance, they moved their kingdom completely. They actually used to dwell in the Nimrokko plains. They moved into what is now called the Uncharted Lands, and we haven’t seen or heard from them since.” Mac shrugged, then pointed to the map, changing the subject again. “That map is pretty old. There are more detailed ones if you’re interested, and if you ever want more reading material than is on those bookshelves then you only need to ask.” Calil managed a small smile. “Thanks.” “You scrub up good by the way.” Mac said with a smile and another voice cut in from the doorway. “Mac!” “What? I was just saying!”
A woman stepped into view from the corridor, shoving Mac to the side, though she smiled at Calil and seemed quite friendly, and Mac didn’t seem too dispirited, although he did start rubbing his arm. The newcomer’s skin was a light blue, at least that’s what Calil thought to begin with, except the hue kept changing quite subtly over time. And, she came to notice, that it wasn’t skin, she had scales, although not like the rough scales of a Lizad, more akin to fish scales. Her hair was tied back and sprang out in different places at the back in either cool light blue ringlets, or navy ringlets, and medium blue ringlets. Her ears were small and pointy, and her eyes were a cobalt blue with a navy pupil. She wore a simple top and long black skirt that was split at the sides up to her thighs. Not a garment a woman would wear in Gairlich, or indeed in any other town in Tímtáe.
“Hi, my name is Anca.” “…Who shouts at people for complimenting others…” Mac muttered, Anca scowled at him and playfully hit him. Calil laughed, probably for the first time since she had been taken from Gairlich. “Nice to meet you Anca.” Then she realised what she had done. She had laughed at these daemons? Daemons who had taken her away from her home and her life, and she found their antics amusing? Annoyed at herself for being polite to this new daemon she looked up as Anca spoke again. Still smiling, unaware of the mental chiding Calil was giving herself.
|
|
|
Post by Tasá on Jun 3, 2007 8:57:17 GMT -5
“I’ve come to take you down to get something to eat.” She explained. “I? Don’t you mean we?” Mac interjected. Anca gave him a withering look and Mac simply grinned.
Calil said nothing, but rose in what she hoped was a dignified manner as Anca gestured for her to follow and she was led down the corridor and back down all the thousands and thousands of steps. Though she reasoned that at least going down was a whole lot easier than going up.
They emerged out in the clearing again and were greeted by a beautiful red sky. Clouds were scattered across the darkening sky, tinted with pinks, oranges and peach. But Calil’s attention was dragged away from the sunset as she hurried after the two daemons, who eventually led her back to the tables nestled under the four giant oaks.
“You’ll be sitting over here.” Anca directed, and showed Calil to the end of one of the tables. Calil gulped, the tables were filled with daemons, and she was going to be eating with them.
Suddenly feeling a little nauseous and self-conscious she sat down next to a daemon with purple tinted hair who was talking to the one called Kanis. Calil jumped as this daemon turned around, it was Fëa! But, that was impossible. Earlier today Fëa could barely stand upright, but here she was looking none-the-worse.
The daemon laughed at Calil’s apparent bewilderment. “Hello Calil.” She said with a smile. “Surprised to see me?” Calil swallowed down a nervous laugh, the first time she had seen Fëa looking like she did now, she had been about to fight a group of Lizads. “Don’t look so scared girl; she’s only in her daemon state so she can take advantage of her heightened immune system. In fact, she should be eating in the Healer’s House tonight.” Came the deep voice of Tripp from across the table, at the last sentence he cast an accusing glare towards Fëa. She returned his look with a level stare, and Calil got a slight sense that it was a source of an argument for the two. But she still couldn’t get her head around Fëa being up and about. “But, she was,” she stammered and glanced down to Fëa’s side, but of course where the wound was, or should be, was covered by her top. Had it all been some kind of trick? But why would they do that? “Injured yes.” Fëa finished. “We have extraordinary healers here, plus we heal much, much faster than you humans do.” Calil frowned slightly. “Here, grab some food while its still there.” She suggested, motioning to the various collection of dishes on the tables before her. “You really are a greedy pig, it’s a wonder you don’t weight as much as a house.” Kanis said slowly. The edges of Fëa’s mouth curved up into a smirk and she ever so gently patted her side. “I need the food my good friend.” “Ok, so what’s your excuse for every other day?” Tripp queried. Fëa shrugged and swallowed the food she had been chewing. “I was hungry?”
Calil flinched as someone nudged her and she turned to find Mac sat next to her. “You know Gutsy here was right about the food, eat some before she beats you to it!” Fëa spluttered a protest, but her mouth was too full of food for anyone to be able to discern what she had said.
Calil managed a nervous smile and helped herself to some of the closer dishes. To her surprise, they weren’t that different from what she served, what she used to serve, she corrected herself with a wistful sigh, in the pub back in Gairlich. Here, their food was of much better quality and with much more variety. There were many dishes Calil did not recognise and most looked tantalisingly tasty.
By the time Calil had eaten her fill, the daemons were recalling an embarrassing story about Mac; presumably for her amusement. However she was sure that Mac wasn’t too impressed, as he was staring intently at his plate. “Maybe that story wasn’t the best to pick.” Kanis mused. “What you mean?” Tripp asked. “I mean, there are many more that are more amusing for us, and more embarrassing for him.” He finished with a smile. *But we’ll be here all week just trying to decide! And some I don’t want to hear, I’m eating for Chark’s sake!” Fëa added, shooting a grin at Mac. “Uh-oh, someone’s not happy.” “Yeah come on Mac you’re usually laughing with us.” Anca said, nudging him a little. “Yeah, but I’m thinking.” Mac replied slowly. “A very difficult and gruesome task for you.” Tripp commented, his face and tone full of mock seriousness. “What are you thinking about?” Anca asked between bites.
Mac looked up at her and grinned. “Oh I’m just making sure I can remember every single embarrassing tale about all of you.” “Oh great, we’ll be here for years.” Fëa groaned.
After everyone had seemingly eaten their fill and most were just picking at the sweeter deserts, Tripp disappeared for a while then returned after accumulating a large barrel, Fëa stood and beckoned to Calil, who scrambled out of her seat and edged as close as she wanted to get to the daemon. “What’s that?” she asked, nodding her head towards the barrel. “Azloc.” Fëa replied simply, then regarded Calil carefully. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you. It’s brewed for daemons, not humans. It’s extremely potent.” “Oh.” “Come on then, let’s get all your questions answered before you have the chance to drive some of us insane.”
As Fëa turned her back, Calil took the chance to scowl at her, but followed as her curiosity started to grow again. It had ebbed with the presence of food, but now she had been told that she had the chance to learn why the daemons had felt it prudent to tear her away from the life she loved and drag her here. She was led away from the noisy daemons still eating and drinking and across the lush green of the clearing. Calil noted that Fëa was walking slightly differently, her strides weren’t as confident as they had been on the journey to the Daemonwood and in Gairlich, and Calil found it much easier to keep up. Sometimes, she didn’t seem to be walking in such a straight line. Maybe the poison and her wound were still affecting her, and she wasn’t as healed as she would like Calil to believe. Maybe her spirit was just as stubborn as her friend’s mother, who had once dropped her shopping in the centre of town, and as she was picking it all up, a heavy cart had wheeled over her hand. She had been told to rest it, but that didn’t stop it continually getting out of bed and refusing to stop work in the house. She had hated sitting around doing nothing and had insisted on being useful in some way.
Calil’s spirits quailed and her thoughts ceased to dwell on the past as she finally realised where Fëa was taking her. It was dark now, but the lights from the four oaks and the newly rising moon showed her enough to know that Fëa was taking her to the great black temple. It seemed even more formidable in the darkness. In the crevasses behind the many spikes fires burned, adding a cruel flickering orange glow to the blue shine that draped itself across the temple’s surface. Calil shivered involuntarily, adamant that she didn’t want to go any closer to it; in fact, she had slowed to a stop and was beginning to back away.
“Calil?” Calil just shook her head in reply, not looking at Fëa, instead her wide eyes were captured by the horror of the temple. It seemed to radiate evil – she was positive that the daemons were going to sacrifice her. She had heard so many terrible tales about such things. She faintly heard Fëa’s voice asking her what was wrong, but it seemed as if the daemon was miles away. “You-you’re going to sacrifice me aren’t you?” She asked slowly, gulping, and to her surprise, Fëa started laughing. It was not a harsh, evil laugh, like she half-expected, but one of amusement. This made Calil blush and suddenly her gaze that had been locked on the temple was released and she found herself looking at her feet, brown hair hanging down so that it hid her red cheeks. The daemon walked towards her and put her hand on Calil’s shoulder, the touch made her tremble, she still was not used to the presence of a daemon, and it still instilled fear. “Are you scared of that building?” She asked. For a split second, Calil mused about concealing her fear, but she found herself nodding despite herself, hidden behind her hair, she felt like the useless child that she had been determined not to seem, so she flicked back her hair, her head held higher than it had been before. Fëa and Tripp seemed to have ceased calling her ‘girl’ and ‘child’, but she wanted to give them no incentive to start that habit again.
Fëa smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Do you want to know my theory on it?” Calil’s eyes narrowed slightly. Fëa was glad that she was scared? Why? Calil shrugged, acting as if she didn’t care too much. “Go on then.” “You can sense the magic in it, and it’s an alien sensation, so your natural instinct is to be scared. If something is foreign, you’re likely to be wary of it, especially since you’ve been told since birth that daemons are evil, and you could sense the magic coming from us. Your subconscious merely paired your fear of us, to that building, and since the building has more magic in it that we do, you’re unable to contain your fear as well. This building is not for any sacrifices, it is no temple for blood-riddled rituals; the majority of us don’t worship any God and none of us sacrifice beings to them. The entire building acts as an amplifier to an ancient magic spell that protects us. I think you might have noticed that out on the balcony in your room, there’s a clearing below that’s completely empty? Well that’s actually this clearing. The spells hides what is actually down here from anyone above.” “Above?” “Well, when the spell was cast, dragons weren’t rare at all, their population was quite large.” Fëa explained in a matter-of-fact way. Calil gave her a look of disbelief. “Dragons?” “Dragons.” Fëa said, nodded once, then sighed. “Come on, we’ll be late.”
|
|
|
Post by Tasá on Jun 3, 2007 8:58:40 GMT -5
Calil sighed, knowing that if the feeling she had originated from magic it did not help her in any way to alleviate that fear. Even being told that the daemons did not sacrifice beings to their Gods, they didn’t even believe in Gods. Calil frowned, no; Fëa had said that most didn’t believe in a God. So the rest believed in nothing? Finding that concept a little too weird to think about too much right now, she hesitantly edged towards the building. She was aware that her legs seemed to feel like they were heavier than they ought to be, and she couldn’t quite displace the cynical thought that this was the place she was going to die in.
Nevertheless she found herself climbing up the black steps and passing through the black doors that had been thrown wide open, welcoming her to her doom.
Slowly she trailed Fëa going down the main corridor than ran on from the doors. This all seemed half-real to her, like it was a dream that she’d wake up from any minute and be back in her bed in Gairlich, having to hurry her morning chores because she’d overslept again.
There was nothing especially interesting about her surroundings, the walls, ceiling and floor were all made out of the same black stone, and torches lit the way, flickering and making the shadows dance. There was black carpet beneath her feet which muffled footsteps. The corridor led to a set of large black double doors, which was engraved with a relief of daemons fighting faceless enemies, their eyes and swords inlaid with jewels and their swords and clothes lavished with gold and silver. One particular daemon stood out, her face the same black as the marble but her hair was created by grooves in the stone and impossibly thing lines of sapphire. Her top was made of a sheet of jade, trousers out of emerald, blade out of hematite. There were even little strips of gold curving around the hilt of her sword.
“This way Calil.” Fëa said quietly, after letting her examine the door for a little while, the daemon was ignoring these doors and lightly brushed the left wall, her lips moved as if she had whispered something, and suddenly Calil became aware that there was a plain wooden door where Fëa stood, and at the same time an eerie shiver ran down the length of her spine. The daemon then produced a small silver key from her pocket and unlocked and opened the door, allowing warm light to spill out into the otherwise slightly chilly corridor before she ushered Calil inside, Calil heard the door shut behind her and looked back, relieved to see that Fëa had stayed with her. A more stubborn strain of thought trailed across her surface thoughts, demanding to know why she was relieved that the daemon had stayed to keep her company. This was the daemon that had kidnapped her. She shouldn’t be grateful for her presence.
“Welcome.” Calil’s attention snapped back to the room she was in, and she identified the speaker as the daemon Darga; except that now his skin was a normal colour and his eyes and his hair were brown. There were also seven other daemons in the room with him.
The room she was in was simple enough, a fire burnt in a grate, there was a drinks cabinet against one wall, another cabinet filled with a strange collection of ornaments and objects, and a wide bookcase filled with a variety of books. Ten comfortable-looking chairs were set in a circular formation around the large rug that spread from the centre of the room. Eight of these chairs were occupied, and the other two were presumably for herself and Fëa.
Feeling an encouraging touch on her shoulder that she couldn’t help but flinch inwardly at, she allowed herself to be shown to the first seat, Fëa taking the one next to her. Calil then started to look around at the other daemons in the room that she had never seen before.
Apart from Darga, there were only two others that, at that moment in time, could pass themselves off as human.
One was a man with short blonde hair and pale blue eyes, who introduced himself as Tomi. His skin was tanned as if he spent hours toiling under the sun, and under his green top was the tell-tale ripple of a well-toned body, his hands, she noticed, weren’t that clean, but looked like a farmer’s after they had been working in the fields. Soil had gathered under his fingernails, but she the thought of a daemon doing gardening too amusing. Resisting a smile, she managed a polite nod at his friendly, disarming smile.
The other daemon who looked human was a woman with ginger hair that curled into tiny locks, she had brown eyes and pale skin, and introduced herself as Kerrai. She wore a pale pink top and brown trousers, with boots that were obviously made for riding.
Sitting next to Kerrai was a heavily muscled man with dark green skin and yellow eyes, he had horns that twisted up to sharp points and long talons on the end of his fingers. Darga introduced him as Azka, and added that he didn’t speak much.
Next to Azka was a woman with short hair, as white as freshly fallen snow, and skin just as pale. Her eyes too, were white, and the only colour that really stood out was the shocking radioactive green that ringed around her pupils. She wore black clothes which made her look even paler, and her name was Illi.
One daemon was bald, with brown skin, but it was much lighter than Tripp’s, and his skin was covered in strange lighter markings, outlined in black. Long triangles reached down his cheeks from his brown eyes, on top of his head he had a strange complicated pattern with markings larger than those Calil could see on his neck and arms. He spoke in a quiet whisper, and she barely caught his name; but she was almost certain he said Neeahl.
Sitting closest to the fire was a grey man, his skin looked like it had a rough texture, his hair was short, and a steel grey colour, but not grey like those of the Elders in Gairlich, for this man was not old. His eyes were a tan brown with slits for pupils, and when he spoke to tell her that his name was Shákó, Calil noticed that he had at least two rows of sharp and jagged triangular teeth.
Finally, sitting next to Fëa there was a woman with eyes completely white apart from one bright cyan slit in the centre, her skin was completely black, just as black as the exterior of the building Calil was in, and her hair was too. Where the light touched her hair or her skin, it was highlighted as a deep exotic blue, and her name was Mordae.
“Well, now that we are all introduced, maybe we can get underway.” Darga began. “We have discussed all the mattered for this month, is bringing this girl up to speed something we all really need to listen to? I have something I really ought to attend to.” The daemon called Tomi asked, Darga’ brow creased ever so slightly. “…if you wish to leave, then yes, feel free to do so.” Darga said, Tomi nodded curtly to him, flashed a smile at Calil, and then Fëa as he left his seat and filed out the room. Kerrai, Azka and Illi also rose out their seats, nodding to Calil as they left.
“Well, where was I? Oh yes, now I hear from Fëa and Tripp that you are itching to learn why exactly you are here?” A slight smile almost seemed to curve at the corner of Darga’s lips, but the change was so slight Calil wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, she nodded anyway, shifting in her seat so that she was a little more comfortable. “Well, we will explain all to you now, but it will take a while. How much do you know about the history of Tíremtáe and the surrounding lands?” “Umm… nothing really, just some stories I heard from the storytellers that visited and travellers tales. But they’re usually about-” Calil was about to say ‘the evil Menace Races’ and bit her lip. “Monsters and dragons and goblins.” She said with a forced wry smile. She saw the daemons smiling at this, like they found it amusing, she tried to fight the heat she felt rising to her cheeks. This was stupid, why would they expect anyone but the rich to know the history of Tíremtáe? Only the wealthy had the money to waste on books and tutoring for their own. Calil had needed to work, and the only tutoring she had ever had was on how to do a task, she had never had the luxury of learning. Her mother had taught her how to read, with one book that she had borrowed from a merchant friend. She had learnt a few letters from scratching them into the earth, as they could afford no pens and ink or paper. She knew that she was lucky for a girl who had lived in a small poor village on the outskirts of a town; she knew a lot, most didn’t know how to spell their own name. “I didn’t think so. Ok then, that is not a problem. We shall fill you in on all the details as we know them. But I think it should be told by one who knows it better than I.” With this, Darga nodded to Fëa, who took a deep breath and began…
|
|
|
Post by Tasá on Jun 3, 2007 8:59:51 GMT -5
Chapter 7 “How many of the different kingdoms do you know of in Tíremtáe and what you call the Uncharted Lands?” Fëa asked. Calil resisted the urge to scowl. She just hoped this wasn’t a ploy to get some amusement from her lack of education. “Umm, there’s Tímtáe,” Calil began, referring to the land ruled by King Akkor, which consisted of the Gílor, Kelí and Nimrokko Plains, the rebellious town of Kalee, with Lake Káleem, Gairlich, the port of Dewbay, the religious town of Résha, the far reached Unthar villages, across the river the King had set up two forts that she knew of, but she could not recall their names, even having seen them earlier on the map she had studied. Then of course there was the capital Taríheem. “Then there’s Faera, Kelíthem, the Daemonwood, Barra Hills and the Wittwood..” she continued, counting off the other realms that were accounted as part of Tíremtáe. Although she had no idea why, because had not decided whether or not to believe Mac’s earlier account of why the rest of the lands surrounding Tíremtáe were simply called the Uncharted Lands, because any army sent out there eventually perished. And why the remaining realms were included in the area known as Tíremtáe. The Uncharted Lands however, she did know as being extremely dangerous. The soldiers unfortunate enough to be sent out there were picked off like flies by the mysterious enemies living out there. “And the Uncharted Lands… Hunntag’s Cove, and the Engel’s hidden kingdom.” Fëa smiled with what Calil thought to be a smile of encouragement. “Good. I don’t think it is common knowledge why some realms are included in this name, Tíremtáe, and others are not, so I shall briefly explain. There used to be an old alliance between all the realms, we banded together and none of the armies of the lands in the far unmapped north could defeat us. The Engel’s realm used to be part of Tíremtáe, before they retreated. Tíremtáe used to be much bigger, even including Hunntag’s Cove. Now it has dissolved, and although there is no alliance anymore, and the realms are hostile against each other, some falling into total disrepair like Kelíthem, where once there used to be a large city that songs were sung about. It was called the fairest city in the whole of this earth, but sadly it suffered as the people started to bicker amongst themselves. The real natives of Kelíthem are now rare, they don’t mix with anyone else. Their once beautiful city is now a mass of eroding ruins, left for nature to claim it back. So really, Tíremtáe doesn’t exist at all anymore, but the name had stayed to define the area in which your country, Tímtáe, and the surrounding realms are.”
Calil frowned slightly. There used to be a city in Kelíthem? She had heard it was the most dangerous place to venture in the whole of Tíremtáe, full of enemies and strange creatures.
“I don’t suppose you know who doesn’t get on well with who?” “I thoughts that Lizads and Daemons were allies,” Calil began, and the statement caused the majority of the remaining daemons to fidget. “I’ve been told that’s not true, so I don’t know what to think anymore.” Fëa smiled wryly. “Well, daemons, humans, witches, dragons, the people of Faera, and the Engels, used to all be allies, the Lizads have never had peace with any of these races, until recently. But I will come to that in a minute. Most of these races joined the peace after it was originally formed. The history extends back a long way, before we even started to count time. Before humans moved here, the three races of Engel, Daemon and Witch were all on good terms. Alongside dragons, these are the oldest races. We lived, fought, and died together, and we kept peace throughout our lands. The Lizads ruined that, along with a petty squabble, but that’s an even longer story which isn’t entirely relative. Basically, the alliance between the three races dissolved, the Witches refused to have anything to do with anyone else, they thought the arguments useless and easily quelled. Until the scale tipped and the great war between our races sparked. That war went on for too long, and in the end, a truce was called. There is still a lot of resentment between our two races, and after the war and Engel’s moved their city and hid it from everyone else. Now, humans were all living in separate areas, because your race originates from the North, where many different tribes roamed, fought with each other mainly, squabbling over land and petty hates. Finally seven tribes, who didn’t totally resent each other, although there was no love lost between them, decided to move south, where they hoped they would find peace from the near constant fighting. The seven tribes were called Tarih, Galich, Réshant, Dewwbett, Farra, Kallte and Unth. Once they had moved the leaders of these decided that they should all band together and they elected a King and Queen, who came from two different tribes and married, to govern over them all. Where the original tribes settled, they built towns and the names altered to the names you know today. The King and Queen ruled over the land you know as Tímtáe. The system worked, although the Kallte tribe, the town of Kalee, was never too happy about it, and the Farra tribe refused to be governed, they took the most drastic route, moving into the marshes and formed Faera.”
Fëa paused for breath, and Calil stared at her coolly, keen to keep a neutral expression. If all this were true, then she knew a lot more than any other poor girl in Gairlich. But it could just as easily be an extravagant lie to cloud her mind and judgement.
“The most recent trouble, the trouble that concerns you and all the people in Tímtáe right now, only started over 500 years ago. The peace in Tímtáe began to waver in 521, helped, no doubt, by the rebels in Kalee. It was when Queen Ellenn died in childbirth. She was a lovely person and a beloved ruler, kind, wise, everything a Queen ought to be, and her husband was distraught at her passing. For it was no quick death; she was strong, and endured for months in pain. Despite all the healing knowledge and power that we daemons possess, the Queen could not be saved, and she was mourned not only by her people, but by many here in the Daemonwood and in Faera. Faera had refused to be governed, but the two kingdoms decided to coincide in peace after a while. We daemons had not scorned upon the arrival of humans, and the two races were on friendly terms. Even with the Queen dead, the newborn Prince was still welcomed warmly, and with his adored wife gone, the King clung more and more to his son, whom he felt was the only piece he had left of his wife. His father loved him, some might say too much, and he would do anything for his only child. The love he held for his son was blinding him, and as the young Prince grew, we could see that he was not fit to rule, his personality had too many traits that were not fitting. I tried to tell the King this but-” “You? But you said that this happened over 500 years ago!” Calil interrupted. Fëa gave her an impatient look, but Calil did not flinch. “I am a Daemon, Calil, a First. No one knows how long we can live for, for none of us have ever died naturally. I have been alive for a lot longer than 500 years. Now, can I continue?” Calil fought to stop an incredulous look from appearing on her face. The very thought of someone living for so long seemed absurd, although in the tales she had heard Engels and Dragons lived for a countless span of years. Yet she reminded herself that the whole situation she was in right now was utterly ridiculous. She nodded anyway, her curiosity as to where exactly Fëa’s story was going getting the better of her.
“Right, well the Prince was self-indulgent, he had grown used to getting exactly what he wanted, and he only cared for himself and his well-being. Once when I visited the palace I saw him making a game out of punishing the servants. I also heard from a maid that he would force the servants to fight each other for his amusement, only allowing them to stop when one was unconscious. He was a sick and twisted little child, and as he grew up he did not improve. The King was blind to all this, he had heard of the things his son did, even witnessed them on several occasions, but was in denial. The Prince carried his wife’s blood in his veins, which was all the King thought of, his son’s connection to his dead wife. Things might not have turned out so bad, if the Prince had not met a sorcerer when he was 16. The power-hungry teenager requested that the sorcerer should be allowed to stay and tutor him, and against his heart and all the advice he was given, the King allowed it. The Prince’s wish was law in the palace. This sorcerer, whose name is Ikta, we had been hunting for a long while, he is an evil, ambitious man, and saw profit in gaining the trust of the young Prince. He had been cast out by his Order, and banished to the Bannt Mountains. We don’t know howhe managed to overcome the spell that traps the people banished there, for his magic should have waned from being cast out. It seems that he can make several potions that can replace the Ancient Rock that is the source of recharging their powers. Now, as you may know, magic runs in the Royal bloodline, this is because years back, way before this Prince, a King married a witch, but because magic can corrupt and they thought that no ruler should have too much power, it was decided that the magic should never be used. Magic also prolongs a person’s life, and a ruler sitting too long on the throne was another thing that this pair of rulers decided would be unwise. The magic was made to lie dormant in every Royal. The Prince’s magic was weak, and on his own he could just about do small things and simple spells, but he had much more ambition than that. Ikta had prolonged his life by unleashing the magic, and by several other methods we think, made him more and more powerful, and more deadly. The Prince became King when he was 21, when his father died. This is four years before the traditional age for a ruler to take the throne. His father died in his sleep, but I have always thought that his death was not natural.” “But you have no proof for that.” Came a voice, and Fëa looked towards Sháko almost blankly. “I have my suspicions. I had visited the King a week before his death, he should have lived for at least another decade before he died, but he didn’t. He had been in perfect health last time I saw him alive, even was as energetic as wanting to spar with me.” “I’m just saying you shouldn’t put thoughts into her head if you have no proof behind them.” The grey daemon said. Teeth flashing as he smiled at Fëa. “I said it was a thought, not a fact.” Fëa stated simply, sighed, then turned back to Calil.
“The Prince took the throne, and became the King you know today. We know that the people living in his lands are aware that he had magic, and know that he had lived for a very long time, we don’t think it is very common knowledge that he is 571 years old.” “Wait, you were talking about King Akkor the entire time?” Fëa nodded slowly in reply. “So what did you daemons do when King Akkor became King?” Calil asked. “We quietly withdrew into our own kingdom. Most of us live for a long time, and our population does not increase very rapidly, because of our continuing affairs with the Lizads, and our numbers have never quite been the same since the fight with the Engels. We knew we didn’t have the numbers to place a rightful couple on the throne, and even when Akkor’s father was alive, no one could ever persuade him to see his son for who he really was.” Fëa sighed. “More should have been done, but we were under different council back then. We soon had our own internal troubles to worry about.” “So wait, if you’d had the numbers, you would have put someone else on the throne? And who would this have been? What gives you the right to meddle with the hierarchy of another country?” Calil accused. Daemons were not only vicious fighters it seemed, but meddlers in the affairs of other countries. Maybe they were the power-hungry creatures she had been taught to believe they were. “We know who the rightful heir to the throne is. One of royal blood still lives outside the crown’s control. Many Lord and Ladies have connections to the throne, and they have since been found guilty of various crimes and killed, or mysteriously disappeared. But in one family the bloodline runs stronger. A king had had an affair with a woman of lower class and they had a son, we traced their bloodline and we know who should now sit on the throne. They are protected by some friends of ours. They protect the bloodline till we are ready to usurp Akkor.” “So, you’re not just putting someone on the throne who you can control?” “Of course not! Would you rather we left Akkor reigning? Do you think him a wise and just ruler?” Fëa questioned. Calil looked down at the floor. She had never really thought about it. She never agreed with many of the rules and practices that he had brought back, he encouraged many of the old superstitions, the law was enforced by forcing confessions out of people via torture, and if anyone spoke out they were wrongfully accused of a number of crimes, tortured and hanged. “…. No.” “Would you rather, a ruler that does not encourage poverty and war?” “Of course.” “Then that’s what we’re trying to do.” Fëa said simply. “Akkor became the greedy, merciless and unjust ruler that we feared he would be; most of his people live in poverty, apart from the soldiers, who are given a good wage. Akkor only does this to ensure that his army keeps growing. Men who want to raise their family out of poverty find that the easiest way to do so is to join the army. Akkor trains them, and then uses them as tools without a second thought. He has been pressing on our borders ever since he found that we would not support him. Our fighters are skilled, no match for the men forced to enlist who have no heart for battle. But the only way Akkor can seize our kingom, the Wittwood, and Faera that removed their support and contact as soon as Akkor’s mother passed, keep control of the rebels in Kallee and find and secure the Engel’s hidden kingdom is by using several magical artefacts that enable beings with magic, and some normal people even, to do certain things, or become more powerful. Akkor already has some of these in his possession. One that enhances telepathic ability, one that makes him immune to all poisons and diseases, and one that means that he can heal extremely quickly. Any wound inflicted on him heals with such a speed, that if you stab him through his heart and take your sword out, his heart will start to heal, and although he will be affected by it, he will recover quickly, so the only way you can kill him is by cutting off his head. He may have others, we are only certain that he has those. Those that are not hidden deep inside impenetrable realms we have been working hard to find, to use in the fight against him or destroy. However, the one that Akkor desires the most is the most powerful one. It means he will be able to take over all of Tíremtáe and the Uncharted Lands, claim all magical items for himself, and live for an eternity, which he is close to doing at the moment. We cannot allow this to happen, so we have been searching for it for sometime. It is a race to see who will find it first, if he finds it, we have lost for sure, whereas if we find it, we have hope once more, though by no means will we have certainty of winning.” “So you’re going to find this thing and use it for yourselves, and then what?” Calil interjected, an accusing tone entering her voice. “We daemons will not use it no. We don’t believe that anyone deserves that much power. Once we find it, it will be used only to ensure Akkor’s and Ikta’s deaths, then, we shall vote on whether it should be destroyed or hidden in case of anything else happening in the future.” “We know you grew up hating and distrusting daemons Calil,” Darga said, “But sometimes, you need to give people a clean slate. Take this chance you have been given to learn another perspective on so many other things, a perspective that tries to be as free of prejudice as possible. See what we are really like, not just the lies and rumours about things that we have been forced to do.” “Like attacking innocent soldiers you mean? I heard a bunch of you once attacked a group of soldiers escorting a cart of supplies to their camp. Destroyed the supplies and left none of the soldiers alive.” “The soldier’s supplies would have been weapons, used to kill innocents, and us. The soldiers, would have only been used as tools to attempt our demise.” Came a quiet voice, and Calil looked at the one named Neeahl. He gazed back at her with cool dark brown eyes. Unblinking eyes. Calil flushed and looked down at her feet again. “We do these things because we must, and for the most part we do not enjoy it. Though each daemon has their daemonic side which thrives in blood, our other half is what makes us part of this world, as is very similar to an ordinary human. You should judge us by that side of ourselves, not the vicious side that enjoys the war that we must rage.” Fëa said. “Daemonic side?” Calil queried. “Fëa, you’re going to give her too much information too fast, maybe that should be left to be explained at another time? She’ll already have a mountain of information to absorb as it is.” Darga warned. “No, tell me now.” Fëa looked from Calil to Darga for a while, before shrugging half-heartedly. “Engels and Daemons have two, well, it’s hard to explain. You might say that we have two halves, two souls, two spirits. You’ll probably be able to relate to that better. Now one of these souls is exactly like yours, and if I didn’t have my daemon half we think that I’d probably look like I did when you first met me. Although not all daemons can switch to looking human, they still have this part of them. Our other half however, identifies us as being daemon. It is the source of our power, some tend to envision this as a fire-like entity. Some argue that it looks a lot similar to what a daemon looks like when they are in their final state. Engels have that human half, their other half, is like, pure light. Their race does not have as much variety as ours does. They all look human and they can all switch to this other half, though they all vary in power.”
|
|