Post by Lajos on Jun 28, 2006 17:24:32 GMT -5
Ok, this is the first chapter of a long-running series of novellas that I wrote for my school. This is just the first chapter, and it was way back when my writing sucked. Still, it's the beginning to one of my favorite stories, so I figured I'd post it:
(Note: It most likely has several spelling errors in it--please overlook those. Thanks.
))
It was cold. The sun's bright rays lay addled beyond the curning seas of sky that expanded into emptiness of which no man can comprehend. It was beneath this emptiness that amidst the bluffs and heaps of rock and mountain you can find lady winter's beauty. It was concealed like some treasure held by a greedy lord and guarded by the soldiers of death and the icy midnight air. The forested valleys were frozen, the trees, alight with evergreen coats beneath slate skies brimming with ice and liquid. Perhaps the skies would open upon themselves and claim yet another poor farmer or peasant's miserable life.
Here, we travel, into a bleack darkness beneath the trees towering as high as any modern scyscraper could. In the distance, great peacks of ice and rock lay like stone emperors gazing down upon their kingdom of death. Then, the snow begins to fall. A family huddled around a fire's last dying embers slowly meets their death. This is only divine beauty, and perhaps, divine comedy. It comes down with the morning, slowly and forming the demon's tracings in their contorted shapes. Or was it a divine symbol? We go even further, trees become more frequent and the snow is blockaded from the dead ground.
A shaking bush.
A twitching nose.
Red was hunting. The young she-wolf blended easily with the few heaps of snow and ice that lay on the forest floor, but it made no difference. Her prey was as god as dead, already. The hare, no matter how swiftly he tread, could not escape the wolve's gnashing jaws.
Silence. Hunter and prey stood eye-to-eye in a dance about the composed and chill clearing. Each knew what awaited. They locked eyes. One was in a frenzy and the other was in shock.
Crunch!
The prey only screamed for a moment. Then, it lay contorted and dead, crimson blood seeping from decrepit hare's neck. Red eagerly lapped up the precious life force until it was gone. She hadn't bothered to say a prayer for the poor beast--she didn't believe in such fictive things as the divine. Of course, she would have never shared such thoughts with Alpha Bane. He would almost certainly have her exiled for infidelity.
The Alpha-Male, or leader, ruled the pack. Come the time, one of his pups might slay him and take his place. Such events were not rare in the European wilderness.
Hares didn't make especially filling meals, but Red was too young to bring down a deer by herself. Or so Bane had said, anyway. It wasn't that she doubted herself. She believed that she could even bring down one of the fabled Elk of legend. So why didn't she?
Maybe somewhere deep within, she knew she couldn't.
Red was a strong she-wolf. Or rather, as strong as she-wolves got. Her mother had left the pack long ago for uknown reasons, and her father had presumably died in the great war. She didn't remember the great war. It was long ago, although not before she was born. The Great Eastern Wild had survived harsh times as well as bloody wars with the wolven nations to the far northeast. It had only been until recently, after all, that the wolven empire of the north had been, perhaps, the most powerful force in the world. Now, however, they were in ruins. In that bleack, frozen waste, brother fought brother and pack fought pack, all for the hope of the sun coming up the next day. They were shattered.
Then, the great war began. With the impromptu demise of The Great Eastern Wild's former lord and earthly divine, Salve, the alliance of packs collapsed. In the absence of a ruler, the imminent but until now, invisible, darkness became evident. The packs realized their differences. Their disputes became battles. Then, in the blink of a golden wolven eye, every pack had begun searching for any reason to fight another, and The Great War had begun.
The dust cleared. Like the north, they were shattered. Like a destroyed mirror, the reflection was once whole, but now lay destroyed and distorted upon the ground. The hopelesness came, and it was each pack for itself.
That was long ago. Red sometimes regarded the fact that the land was ever at peace as a myth forged from the fires of hope. The loners, or Gitano, spoke of the divine ones of their maker, Anja, who promised eternal peace. Like the divine--the gods--Red disregarded this as a myth. She didn't believe that there could ever be any more than death and bloodshed in the world.
Red trotted onward, her ivory maw speckled with blood. The snow had begun to fall harder, and some flakes had begun to breack through the trees thick barrier. She liked the snow. Somehow, it seemed wondorous and mystical to her. Certainly, it was beautiful, despite the price that accompanied it. This was her first winter in fact.
So, night had begun to hold the land in his dark grip by the time Red was nearing her packlands. Petulantly grumbling to herself about how far she traveled for a decent kill, she found an array of wolves glancing at her. Most were males, and perhaps a few females scattered about the forests. All in all, there were, perhaps, twelve wolven. Many were the siblings or mates of Alpha Bane. Her own mother was the Alpha's sister. He never spoke of her, though. No one did, ever since she left.
A young brute, a term for a male wolf, bounded up to Red in a somewhat playful fashion. "You were hunting buy yourself?"
"Yes."
"Wow," the youth yipped,"I wish I could do that, Miz Red!"
"Maybe you will one day, runt." Red sighed and padded on. She wasn't really sure what she would do until the moon reached the center of the sky and The Paschas began. She would have gone to the stream to lap up some water, but it was frozen.
Paschas was, possibly, the most important day of the season. It was a time of great celebration among wolves, at which time they would hunt in the name of Salve, the earthly god. Although Salve was long dead, killed by an uknown assassin, his deeds were celebrated as if he were still alive. He had, after all, brought pack and pack togetnher in one great alliance.
For a while, at least.
It was the night of Pascha, and red was one with the wind. Amongst other wolves, she flung her white form forward, on the prowl after a stag. She let out a howl as the thrill of the hunt overcame her and she was with only one goal--to kill. This was how wolves hunted. They were oblivious to everything but their goal. And that was why Red never saw the boulder coated in snow.
Thunk!
She was alone. The others hadn't even noticed her crash. A few beads of blood dripped down her back, and she whimpered a bit in pain. The scent of her pack barely lingered in the area, fused with that of the wilderness. How was she supposed to find them?
Red stopped. She could have sworn that she heard something in the nearby bushes. Her ears twitched as she tried to pick up another sound. An odd scent filled her nostrils. It was vaugely wolven, but somehow mingled with another scent she recognized immediately--blood.
"The sacrafice is complete?"
"Almost."
"Almost?"
Red could hear voices. It might have just been the rustling of the trees in the midnight wind, but she doubted it. There was something just beyond that bush.
"The corpse must be blessed."
"Fine, then you do it."
The wind began to violently shake the trees above. For a moment, the moon shown down upon the forests, creating distorted shadows of the swaying lembs. 'Perhaps it is just the wind,'Red thought to herself. She had begun to pad off when the sound of a chant filled her ear. It was like one of the many wolven howling songs, only odder. The thin hairs on Red's back stood up, as if even they were shaking in fear.
"Dark arts!" Red had to hold back the cry of terror upon hearing that chant. The voices were like ominous, hushed whispers, and now, they faded away as if they were never there. All that was left was Red, in winter's darkness. The beauty of winter had melted away. Even though the clouds dissapeared and stars danced about the oblivion above, she couldn't help but feel terrified. Red rarely felt horror--she was brave, for a she-wolf, or fae, as they were called. And she-wolves were never brave. As Bane said, they were good for nothing but pups and taking care of pups.
Curiously, she peered over the bush. Whatever the beasts that had been there were, they were long gone, but one thing remained--the pungent, sour scent of blood. The snow that lay on the ground was coated in it. Although it had long ceased flowing, it still burnt holes in the ice, and at its source, a corpse. Red was shocked to see the similarities between her and the ghastly remnants of what had once been a young she-wolf. There was a deep red gash through her chest, that stained her pelt crimson. A few birds had begun to nibble at the carcass until Red dismissed them with an angered bark. She sniffed. The corpse had an odd scent, unlike that of her own pack. She was most certainly foreign, possibly from one of the many packs to the north. Then why was she going unnoticed on this packland and now, dead? Red was certain that whoever killed her was not from her own pack, although it could have been.
"A ritual slaying," Red hissed to herself as she pawed at the corpse. This wolf could have been her sister, had her own siblings not died of sickness. She had heard wolves discuss killings commited by priests to summon demons, and everything about this murder--the odd chant; the two figures; the way the body was lain flat on its back--seemed to suggest that this was no average murder.
The snow began to fall again, and the full moon dissapeared beyond a dark shield of clouds. Red watched as the flakes slowly cloacked the corpse and then, it was gone, save for the flow of blood that would soon lay concealed beneath the ice.
Then she was discovered. A pair of yellow slits watched her from behind, then came upon her. A masssive grey wolf towered over her, and immediately, she recognized him. It was the muscular body of Bane, glaring down at her with eyes burning like those of Hades. "Red, I never knew you to kill another wolven!" he exclaimed in a voice that was somehow ringing with disbelief and anger.
"But I--"
"Do not deny it! You're just like your damn mother!" The powerful brute snarled, hushing Red before she could say any more.
The fae's bright eyes widened. "You never told me my mother was a murderer!"
Bane sadly shook his great, furred head. "Some things aren't meant to be told."
Exiled. The word echoed over and over again in her mind as if some demon was taunting her. It was to be her punishment.
Exiled. Red had been run from her own pack, her home, chased into the wilderness. Still, she wouldn't pray. If the divines were really going to help her, they would have done it already. They would have made sure she didn't end up in this mess in the first place.
"Damn..."
(Note: It most likely has several spelling errors in it--please overlook those. Thanks.
))Red
Chapter One of the Tragic Saga of Saint Red
Chapter One of the Tragic Saga of Saint Red
It was cold. The sun's bright rays lay addled beyond the curning seas of sky that expanded into emptiness of which no man can comprehend. It was beneath this emptiness that amidst the bluffs and heaps of rock and mountain you can find lady winter's beauty. It was concealed like some treasure held by a greedy lord and guarded by the soldiers of death and the icy midnight air. The forested valleys were frozen, the trees, alight with evergreen coats beneath slate skies brimming with ice and liquid. Perhaps the skies would open upon themselves and claim yet another poor farmer or peasant's miserable life.
Here, we travel, into a bleack darkness beneath the trees towering as high as any modern scyscraper could. In the distance, great peacks of ice and rock lay like stone emperors gazing down upon their kingdom of death. Then, the snow begins to fall. A family huddled around a fire's last dying embers slowly meets their death. This is only divine beauty, and perhaps, divine comedy. It comes down with the morning, slowly and forming the demon's tracings in their contorted shapes. Or was it a divine symbol? We go even further, trees become more frequent and the snow is blockaded from the dead ground.
A shaking bush.
A twitching nose.
Red was hunting. The young she-wolf blended easily with the few heaps of snow and ice that lay on the forest floor, but it made no difference. Her prey was as god as dead, already. The hare, no matter how swiftly he tread, could not escape the wolve's gnashing jaws.
Silence. Hunter and prey stood eye-to-eye in a dance about the composed and chill clearing. Each knew what awaited. They locked eyes. One was in a frenzy and the other was in shock.
Crunch!
The prey only screamed for a moment. Then, it lay contorted and dead, crimson blood seeping from decrepit hare's neck. Red eagerly lapped up the precious life force until it was gone. She hadn't bothered to say a prayer for the poor beast--she didn't believe in such fictive things as the divine. Of course, she would have never shared such thoughts with Alpha Bane. He would almost certainly have her exiled for infidelity.
The Alpha-Male, or leader, ruled the pack. Come the time, one of his pups might slay him and take his place. Such events were not rare in the European wilderness.
Hares didn't make especially filling meals, but Red was too young to bring down a deer by herself. Or so Bane had said, anyway. It wasn't that she doubted herself. She believed that she could even bring down one of the fabled Elk of legend. So why didn't she?
Maybe somewhere deep within, she knew she couldn't.
Red was a strong she-wolf. Or rather, as strong as she-wolves got. Her mother had left the pack long ago for uknown reasons, and her father had presumably died in the great war. She didn't remember the great war. It was long ago, although not before she was born. The Great Eastern Wild had survived harsh times as well as bloody wars with the wolven nations to the far northeast. It had only been until recently, after all, that the wolven empire of the north had been, perhaps, the most powerful force in the world. Now, however, they were in ruins. In that bleack, frozen waste, brother fought brother and pack fought pack, all for the hope of the sun coming up the next day. They were shattered.
Then, the great war began. With the impromptu demise of The Great Eastern Wild's former lord and earthly divine, Salve, the alliance of packs collapsed. In the absence of a ruler, the imminent but until now, invisible, darkness became evident. The packs realized their differences. Their disputes became battles. Then, in the blink of a golden wolven eye, every pack had begun searching for any reason to fight another, and The Great War had begun.
The dust cleared. Like the north, they were shattered. Like a destroyed mirror, the reflection was once whole, but now lay destroyed and distorted upon the ground. The hopelesness came, and it was each pack for itself.
That was long ago. Red sometimes regarded the fact that the land was ever at peace as a myth forged from the fires of hope. The loners, or Gitano, spoke of the divine ones of their maker, Anja, who promised eternal peace. Like the divine--the gods--Red disregarded this as a myth. She didn't believe that there could ever be any more than death and bloodshed in the world.
Red trotted onward, her ivory maw speckled with blood. The snow had begun to fall harder, and some flakes had begun to breack through the trees thick barrier. She liked the snow. Somehow, it seemed wondorous and mystical to her. Certainly, it was beautiful, despite the price that accompanied it. This was her first winter in fact.
So, night had begun to hold the land in his dark grip by the time Red was nearing her packlands. Petulantly grumbling to herself about how far she traveled for a decent kill, she found an array of wolves glancing at her. Most were males, and perhaps a few females scattered about the forests. All in all, there were, perhaps, twelve wolven. Many were the siblings or mates of Alpha Bane. Her own mother was the Alpha's sister. He never spoke of her, though. No one did, ever since she left.
A young brute, a term for a male wolf, bounded up to Red in a somewhat playful fashion. "You were hunting buy yourself?"
"Yes."
"Wow," the youth yipped,"I wish I could do that, Miz Red!"
"Maybe you will one day, runt." Red sighed and padded on. She wasn't really sure what she would do until the moon reached the center of the sky and The Paschas began. She would have gone to the stream to lap up some water, but it was frozen.
Paschas was, possibly, the most important day of the season. It was a time of great celebration among wolves, at which time they would hunt in the name of Salve, the earthly god. Although Salve was long dead, killed by an uknown assassin, his deeds were celebrated as if he were still alive. He had, after all, brought pack and pack togetnher in one great alliance.
For a while, at least.
It was the night of Pascha, and red was one with the wind. Amongst other wolves, she flung her white form forward, on the prowl after a stag. She let out a howl as the thrill of the hunt overcame her and she was with only one goal--to kill. This was how wolves hunted. They were oblivious to everything but their goal. And that was why Red never saw the boulder coated in snow.
Thunk!
She was alone. The others hadn't even noticed her crash. A few beads of blood dripped down her back, and she whimpered a bit in pain. The scent of her pack barely lingered in the area, fused with that of the wilderness. How was she supposed to find them?
Red stopped. She could have sworn that she heard something in the nearby bushes. Her ears twitched as she tried to pick up another sound. An odd scent filled her nostrils. It was vaugely wolven, but somehow mingled with another scent she recognized immediately--blood.
"The sacrafice is complete?"
"Almost."
"Almost?"
Red could hear voices. It might have just been the rustling of the trees in the midnight wind, but she doubted it. There was something just beyond that bush.
"The corpse must be blessed."
"Fine, then you do it."
The wind began to violently shake the trees above. For a moment, the moon shown down upon the forests, creating distorted shadows of the swaying lembs. 'Perhaps it is just the wind,'Red thought to herself. She had begun to pad off when the sound of a chant filled her ear. It was like one of the many wolven howling songs, only odder. The thin hairs on Red's back stood up, as if even they were shaking in fear.
"From darkness we awaken you
In darkness, we beckon you
Come with fury
Come with death
We beckon you with child's breath
Reawaken, you who are forsaken
The time has come for the souls to be taken
One thousand souls given
Let evil be risen
Here as it is in darkness
We call you."
In darkness, we beckon you
Come with fury
Come with death
We beckon you with child's breath
Reawaken, you who are forsaken
The time has come for the souls to be taken
One thousand souls given
Let evil be risen
Here as it is in darkness
We call you."
"Dark arts!" Red had to hold back the cry of terror upon hearing that chant. The voices were like ominous, hushed whispers, and now, they faded away as if they were never there. All that was left was Red, in winter's darkness. The beauty of winter had melted away. Even though the clouds dissapeared and stars danced about the oblivion above, she couldn't help but feel terrified. Red rarely felt horror--she was brave, for a she-wolf, or fae, as they were called. And she-wolves were never brave. As Bane said, they were good for nothing but pups and taking care of pups.
Curiously, she peered over the bush. Whatever the beasts that had been there were, they were long gone, but one thing remained--the pungent, sour scent of blood. The snow that lay on the ground was coated in it. Although it had long ceased flowing, it still burnt holes in the ice, and at its source, a corpse. Red was shocked to see the similarities between her and the ghastly remnants of what had once been a young she-wolf. There was a deep red gash through her chest, that stained her pelt crimson. A few birds had begun to nibble at the carcass until Red dismissed them with an angered bark. She sniffed. The corpse had an odd scent, unlike that of her own pack. She was most certainly foreign, possibly from one of the many packs to the north. Then why was she going unnoticed on this packland and now, dead? Red was certain that whoever killed her was not from her own pack, although it could have been.
"A ritual slaying," Red hissed to herself as she pawed at the corpse. This wolf could have been her sister, had her own siblings not died of sickness. She had heard wolves discuss killings commited by priests to summon demons, and everything about this murder--the odd chant; the two figures; the way the body was lain flat on its back--seemed to suggest that this was no average murder.
The snow began to fall again, and the full moon dissapeared beyond a dark shield of clouds. Red watched as the flakes slowly cloacked the corpse and then, it was gone, save for the flow of blood that would soon lay concealed beneath the ice.
Then she was discovered. A pair of yellow slits watched her from behind, then came upon her. A masssive grey wolf towered over her, and immediately, she recognized him. It was the muscular body of Bane, glaring down at her with eyes burning like those of Hades. "Red, I never knew you to kill another wolven!" he exclaimed in a voice that was somehow ringing with disbelief and anger.
"But I--"
"Do not deny it! You're just like your damn mother!" The powerful brute snarled, hushing Red before she could say any more.
The fae's bright eyes widened. "You never told me my mother was a murderer!"
Bane sadly shook his great, furred head. "Some things aren't meant to be told."
Exiled. The word echoed over and over again in her mind as if some demon was taunting her. It was to be her punishment.
Exiled. Red had been run from her own pack, her home, chased into the wilderness. Still, she wouldn't pray. If the divines were really going to help her, they would have done it already. They would have made sure she didn't end up in this mess in the first place.
"Damn..."
great job 
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