Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
posted
I'm at it again!
I have finally begun work on another one of my many story ideas, and have decided to try and write the whole thing by the end of this year.
For those who remember it, no, this is not a sequel to my Starchild story. I have put that on the shelf for now. Hopefully, if you enjoyed Starchild though, you won't be disappointed with this new one.
My current story involves a young Duchess, a wizard, an ancient war, a hero who fought in that war, and a sword that ties them all together.
As I do plan on trying to publish this story once it's concluded, I will NOT be posting it in its entirety here like I did before. I may post excerpts, but not the whole thing. However, I do want feedback much as before, so I've decided to go another route.
I have opened an account at LiveJournal for the express purposes of posting the story and having people read and comment on it. It will be "friends only", so if you want to read it (and have a LiveJournal account) you will need to contact me so that I can put you on my "friends" list. You can contact me either through the user name richcelt OR eriskald.
Eriskald is the working title for now (meaning that I will change it to something more formal and suitable once I'm ready to publish). The story will be rough, but the more comments and feedback I get the better I can smooth over the rough spots and tighten up the story. I want an audience (I enjoyed the praise I got from Starchild ), but I want to be a bit pickier about who that audience might be. So, again if you are interested, drop me a line through LJ (or PM me here with your LJ user name) so I may invite you in.
I will post the Prologue (just to give you guys a taste) in the next day or so.
Thanks in advance. Richcelt.
-------------------- Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid; people can be made to believe any lie, either because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it's true. -- Terry Goodkind
posted
Sounds good. I don't have a live journal account and I'm hopeless figuring all that stuff out (plus there are too many of them, myspace, yahoo pages, that college thing, etc) but I'll give it a shot and contact you.
Have you been published before, then? Is there an amazon page for your books?
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quote:The man who doesn't read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them.
Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
posted
Okay, here's the plan. I'll post the Prologue and a section from the first chapter. I will then add only a section from each chapter from here on out. Of course, if you want to read more... well you need to contact me as described above.
Okay?
Well then, without futher ado...
Eriskald
Prologue
It was too perfect. He had to tell. He couldn't keep it bottled up. His head would explode with the need to release all that it contained. His heart would explode with the force of his passions. The knowledge was like a pot boiling over, ready to blow the lid off the top of it, despite his need to keep it clamped down. To let it out now would destroy everything. The wrong word to the wrong ear and everything would cave in on him. His very life would be forfeit.
Yet he had to tell someone.
He had only one trusted advisor, and his advisor already knew all that needed to be known. It wasn't enough that the advisor knew. He had to let someone else in on his little game. The desire of it enflamed his very soul. The flame fueled his angry passions, setting him raging. The excitement of his plan made him giddy with laughter; he giggled like a young girl a third his age. The two emotions contrasted each other and complemented as well. All was set. The plan was already in action. Within the next day or two he would receive word of his success. He couldn't wait.
He had to tell someone.
With his advisor, Bernardo, at his heels, he walked out of the palace temple. Services in worship of the One were given this morning, and he always went to services. He sat in nervous anticipation of his plan as the priest unwittingly went on with his sermon. At the service's conclusion, he got up from his personal pew and walked out of the main temple. Just outside the door he came to and abrupt halt, nearly causing Bernardo to run into him. Along one wall he noticed the small closets where the priests took confessions from the populous.
"That's perfect," he said aloud.
"Sire?"
He turned to Bernardo. "I feel like making confession this morning, Bernardo. Please see that the priest and I are not disturbed or overheard."
Bernardo gave him a concerned look, knowing full well what his master was going to confess. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea, y..."
"And why not? The sanctity of the confessional prohibits the priest from repeating what he hears, right?"
"Yes, but..."
"Then see to my orders then. I will take care of the priest to make double sure that he won't repeat a word." He turned back to the closets.
Bernardo heaved a sigh and went ahead to clear out the other small rooms. He found only one old crone giving her confession and hurried her and the rest of the priests out of the hall. Once out, he began issuing orders to the other guards to watch the doors and not let anyone in. With a nod, Bernardo signaled the "all clear".
He opened the door to the confessional and sat down on the cushioned seat. A door over a little grated window slid open to reveal the partially obscured face of the priest on the other side of the wall. He could tell that the priest was young and newly come to the cloth. It was almost too good to be true, and he giggled again at the prospect of it.
The young priest waited patiently for him to begin. "Father, I must make confession of the most sinful of sins," he began, barely able to contain his glee.
"The One forgives all sins, my son," the young priest stoically quoted by rote. "No matter how great the sin, the One always forgives."
He stifled a giggle. "I do not think He will forgive me of this sin, Father."
"He will," the priest said with confidence. "What is this sin you wish to confess?"
"Before I put words to it," he replied, "I must ensure that it cannot be spoken of outside of these chambers."
The priest turned his head to the window just a bit before answering. "The sanctity of the confessional prohibits me from divulging any of what I am told here. You have no need to worry, my son. What is thy sin?"
He nodded. "Very well. Five years ago, I stumbled on an ancient text, long since lost and thought destroyed. A wizard wrote it almost two thousand years ago. In it he told of plans he made, spells he cast, and all of the successes and failures of each. I did a little research into this wizard, and discovered that this was the same wizard who started the Shadow Wars so famously told in history."
"You found Balthazar's Book of Shadows?" the priest asked with incredulity into the window.
"Ahh, so you have heard of it then?"
"Of course, but it was destroyed, along with the wizard himself."
"So says the legend," he corrected, "but find it I did. Maybe this is a copy. Maybe I have the original and the copy was destroyed. Maybe the book was never destroyed at all. Who's to say these many years later."
"But, where did you find it?" the priest asked.
"Why deep in the bowels of this very castle," he replied. "This castle rests on the very foundation of Balthazar's fortress. Didn't you know that?"
Only silence came in reply. "What of your sin, then?" the priest finally asked.
"Well," he replied, "the book was accurate in every detail, and I found that it was not beyond my talents."
"You used the book?" the priest asked, nearly rising out of his chair. "You command magic?"
"It's one of my many... hidden talents," he replied calmly. "Use it I did, and now, high in the southeast tower, under heavy guard and various protections of my own devising, sits the Guardian of the Gate of Shadows."
"You summoned the Gates?" the priest asked. "You captured the Guardian and opened the Gates of Shadow? Do you know what you have done? You'll plunge us into the same darkness Balthazar did!" The priest was on his feet now and shouting through the window.
He listened as the priest began to rattle at the door, trying to open it. He couldn't stand it any longer and began laughing out loud. "Save your strength, Father, the door won't open. I shielded these chambers so that no one can hear us, and nor can you leave until I am finished with my confession."
"I'll listen to no more from you," the priest said as he tried the door again.
"I think you will, Father, for I have yet to get to the best part." The rattling stopped.
"What do you mean?" came the priest's voice.
"Naturally, as I was the one to free the Shadow, I am also able to command the minions from within, just as Balthazar did." He paused before going on to the next part and let that sink in. "As you may or may not know, there is to be a major wedding in a week's time. So major, so important is this wedding that the Patriarch himself will be officiating it. He'll never arrive.
"On his way up from Anzi, where the road north crosses the South King's Road near the Bae Creek, the Patriarch will stop and meet up with the bride and her family. There, he will be killed by Shadow Fiends under my command and the item he possesses will be brought back to me."
The priest sat back down, stunned. "What would the Patriarch have that you would be willing to have him killed for it?" the priest asked.
"Shadow's Bane," he replied. "The sword used by Erik Ormanthor to slay the Shadow Fiends and close the portals opened by them. Eriskald; the sword given to Erik Ormanthor by the Guardian, woven and forged from her own hair, after he lost his own sword using it to kill the wizard Balthazar. Gaardesbrad, the sword's true name; given into possession of the Patriarch upon Erik's death and handed down through the generations. That is what the Patriarch has. That is what I want."
"I've never even heard of the Patriarch carrying a sword," the priest said.
"He does. It's a little known fact. But he won't be in possession of it for long. He should be nearing those crossroads either later today or tomorrow. My minions will be there waiting for him. He won't come out of there alive, and I will be in possession of Gaardesbrad."
"What of the girl? What if they kill her too?" the priest asked.
"She is of no concern to me," he replied. "If she dies, then she dies. If she lives, then she will be wed as planned. They'll just have to find someone else to officiate."
"Why do you want Shadow's Bane, my son," the priest asked in resignation. "What purpose would it serve?"
He chuckled. "Why, isn't it obvious? For power, Father. Undisputed power. With the Shadow at my command, the Guardian of the Gate as my prisoner, and Gaardesbrad in my possession, no one can stop me. I can have control of the world the likes no one has known, not even the great Balthazar."
The priest was trapped and he knew it. "Why did you tell me this?" he sighed.
"Because I was overcome with the need to tell someone of my great sin. And who better to tell my sins to than to a priest at confession?"
"I cannot absolve you of this. No one can."
"That's not why I'm here, Father," he replied. "I did it out of need, and I feel better for it now. Of course, you must hold up your end of the bargain. No one must know of my plans. That is why I chose to confess. The sanctity of confession keeps you from telling what you know. However to make double sure, I will add some insurance into the spell over these chambers. The shield will remain and no one will be able to enter this room again while you remain here, so you can tell no one. You won't even be able to shout through it. Walk through the shield and you will be caught in my trap. I won't erase your memory, but instead, torment you with the temptation of what you have heard. Utter one sound of my plan and you will be taken by such pain that you will be quickly mad with it. No one will be able to remove it from you and it will last until you die, whether that be a few minutes, hours, days, years or decades. That all depends on how much you tell and the nature of your own constitution. You know who I am; I know you recognize me by voice and face. Utter my name in connection with these plans and you will be instantly struck dead, cursed to rot in the Shadow rather than in the glory of the One, as punishment for breaking the sanctity of the confessional. All of these things are within my means to control, so don't test me, Father."
"What if I try to stop you?" the priest asked.
"I'd like to see you try," he chuckled. "You don't have the power to take me on yourself. If you tell anyone, you'll die before you have much of a chance to convince anyone. The Guardian can't be freed by anyone without a command of magic equal to my own, and I'll not do it. And Treford-on-Bae is three days ride from here. By the time you get there, the Patriarch will be dead and Gaardesbrad will be all but in my possession. There is nothing you can do but sit back and enjoy the ride just like everyone else.”
He stood up and began to open the door. "Thank you, Father, for hearing my confession. I feel much better now." He peered through the small window to see the priest with his head buried in his hands. "May I ask you your name, Father?"
The young priest looked up through the window at him. "Father Andre," he said at last. "A name that I hope will cause you as much pain to hear, as yours will cause me to utter."
"Just keep that in mind, Father Andre." With that, he walked out of the confessional chamber and down the hall. He met up with Bernardo and the two of them left the temple.
Andre just sat there for a moment, considering all that he heard. It seemed like hours before he finally was able to stand. Three days or not, he had to get to Treford and stop the tragedy. He stood up and opened the door. Upon walking through, a cold shiver went through his body, as if suddenly plunged into ice water. The feeling left as soon as it came, but Andre knew it was too late. The spell was on him. It didn't matter. Saving the Patriarch was his only goal now, even if that meant his own death.
Andre ran to his room and began to gather what he'd need for the ride. Upon finishing he raced down to the palace stables. He found the stablemaster inside saddling up three horses. "I need your fastest horse," he said upon entering.
The stablemaster looked bewildered. "Uh, y... yes, Father. The stallion here is the fastest, but it's all saddled up..."
"Perfect then," Andre interrupted and began to climb onto the white stallion.
"But, that's for the Bishop of Ipson," the stablemaster protested.
"Well, I need it for the Patriarch," Andre replied as he sat in the saddle.
"Andre!" came a voice from behind him. Andre turned to see the Archbishop standing in the doorway. "What do you think you're doing?"
"He's taking the Bishop's horse," the stablemaster answered for him.
"I have to get to Treford as fast as I can." Andre explained. "The stablemaster said this was the fastest horse he had."
"You have already been enough trouble lately," the Archbishop scolded. "Stealing a horse will only make matters worse for you. I thought I had you serving in the confessional as penance for your last transgression."
"I've heard enough from just one confession to last me a lifetime," Andre cryptically answered. "I'll hear no more."
"I'll have you defrocked for this, Andre."
Andre looked the Archbishop in the eye. "Tell it to the Patriarch when he arrives." Andre dug his heels into the horse's sides and the beast flew out of the stables. People dived out of the way as the Archbishop and the stablemaster shouted for him.
The main doors out of the palace were nothing but a blur as he passed through them and into the surrounding city. Racing through the cobbled streets, Andre passed through the city walls and out into the country, taking the South King's Road. He was in such a panic he didn't even realize that rain had been pelting him in the face the entire time. The overcast sky they've had for the past two days suddenly seemed appropriate. The rain only added to the tears falling down Andre's cheek as he considered the prospect of not making it in time.
Bernardo and his master watched through a tower window as the priest bolted out of town on his horse. "He's a bold one," Bernardo stated. "I've heard he's got a reputation as a bit of a maverick."
"It won't matter. I have him in a trap. He won't get there in time to stop it, and he can't tell anyone. Not to worry my friend. Nothing can stop me." Bernardo looked over at his master and sighed as he nodded.
-------------------- Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid; people can be made to believe any lie, either because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it's true. -- Terry Goodkind
Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
posted
Chapter One
Polard Drakban sat at the desk of his inn, the Drake's Bane, contemplating another dull evening. It had been raining for nearly a full week and his inn was atypically empty. Usually rain drives people to the shelter of his inn, or causes them to remain longer. This time, his patrons left the inn just as typically as if the rain weren't there, and none came in to replace them. He had been without a single customer for two days; two days spent at the desk waiting for someone to come through the door.
It wasn't a hard rain, just a steady one. It was enough to keep everything wet, but not enough to wash out the dirt roads passing through Treford-on-Bae where Polard's inn was located. The nearby farmers must have loved the week of steady rain for their fields, he thought, but it was doing nothing for his business. He didn't understand why, as Treford was a crossroads for many travelers. There had been relative peace for many years and rain usually kept travelers from sleeping outdoors. But there were no travelers on the roads and no explanation as to why.
Treford-on-Bae was a farming village that straddled the Bae Creek, although most of it, including the inn, was on the west side of the creek. Two main roads ran through Treford. One followed the southward flowing Bae Creek - the Bae Creek Road - and would eventually lead travelers to the holy city of Anzi. The other road went from west to east, eventually ending at the capitol of the vast Kingdom of Autre. The east-west road, known as the South King's Road, stretched across the length of the kingdom near its southern borders, all the way to the western Kingdom of Trez'nal. A similar road, the North King's Road, ran from the capitol city to the Kingdom of Y'rorana along the northern borders.
Polard's wife, Rosanna, had brought him his evening meal - a meal he was in no mood to eat, no matter how good it smelled - when the sound of a horse-drawn carriage reached his ears. He could tell by the squeak of the carriage wheel that their progress through the muddy road was slowed. To Polard's surprise and delight, he watched as the carriage came to a halt in front of his door. He watched the driver climb down from his seat and approach the doors to the inn.
The driver opened the double doors and peered inside. He looked haggard and soaked to the bone. He eyed Polard at his desk on the far side of the vast room. The room served as dining room, tavern/pub, and lobby, with a bar against the west wall and a fireplace in the east wall. Polard and his desk were to the north and the doors being held open by the driver were south. The kitchen was on the other side of the wall behind Polard, and the rooms were upstairs, with stairs on either side of the bar, climbing up the backside of the west wall and meeting in the center on the second floor. The room was empty except for the vacant tables and chairs, and of course, Polard himself.
"Any vacancies?" the driver asked across the room.
"Any vacancies?" Polard repeated incredulously. "Sir, if the inn were any more vacant, there would be no one left to serve you! You are the first soul I've seen walk in through those doors in a week. Everybody walked out when the rains came. Myself and my family are the only ones left here."
"Is there food ready?" the driver asked.
"Aye, and the beds are all ready too. My son can help you with your horses and I'll set the fire while your master eats."
The driver went back out the doors as Polard called for Rosanna and his son, Peter. Peter went and stood by the doors as the driver talked to whomever was in the carriage. Rosanna went back to the kitchen to prepare more food for the new guests. Polard watched as the driver went back to the doors, found Peter and bade him to help take the trunks down from the carriage. Three figures in heavy cloaks got out of the carriage, hoods pulled over their heads, and quickly moved to the doors and stepped inside. One was tall and large of frame, the other two were a bit shorter and much thinner. The large one was obviously a man as his heavy boots thumped on the wooden floor with each long stride across the room. The other two seemed to quietly float just behind. The large man stopped in front of Polard and pushed back his hood to reveal dark brown hair that was slowly graying with a wide band of gold around his head. Polard instantly recognized it as a coronet.
"I am the Duke D'Algraine," the man said in a deep voice that matched his stature. "This is my wife, Analina, the Duchess D'Algraine." The figure to his right pushed back her hood to reveal a woman with long black hair, flecked only the slightest by a bit of grey, and a coronet. "And our daughter, Katerine." The figure to his left pushed back her hood to reveal a face and hair that was the match of her mother's. She looked to be about twenty years of age and had the smooth features of youth and jet-black hair. Polard could well imagine the Duchess looked exactly the same in her own youth. Like her parents, Katerine also wore a coronet.
Polard tore his eyes away from the young maid. "Yes, your Grace. How may we be of service?"
"We need a room for the night," D'Algraine replied, "just one, for the three of us."
"As you wish, sir. I have plenty up those stairs for you to choose from." Polard pointed at the stairs that ran behind the bar. "However, I would recommend the first door on the right, as it is my finest."
"Any room will be fine," D'Algraine said, waiving Polard off.
Polard came around from behind his desk. "If you'll just hand me those cloaks, your Grace, my wife will be out in a moment with a hot meal and you can all sit at the table while I get a fire going. I should still have some dry firew..."
"We'll take our meal in our room," D'Algraine interrupted.
"Oh, well... As you like, your Grace." Polard flustered about until he spotted Peter standing next to the south stairs holding one of the Duke's smaller trunks. He was looking right at Duke D'Algraine's daughter and was apparently struck dumb by her appearance. Polard didn't blame him - it wasn't often one saw a pretty girl in Treford, and none of the few pretty ones in Treford were close to Peter's age - but the boy was staring at her instead of doing his work. "Peter, put their belongings in room one."
Peter jumped at the sound of his name, nodded at his father and quickly hurried up the stairs with the trunk. He was only seventeen, a few years younger than the Duke's daughter, Polard figured, but all of the other pretty girls in the village were either in their late twenties and married, or nearly ten years younger than Peter and not quite yet matured. The girls Peter's age were either plain of face or figure, or simply painful to behold. Some of them came from some of the more well-off families in Treford and many would make good wives and mothers, but none of them shone with the radiance that the Duke's dark-haired daughter possessed. Polard knew a few girls that were prettier than Katerine, but none were Peter's age. Polard could see the visions forming in his son's mind every time he glanced at her. Keep dreaming, son, Polard thought. Maybe he could arrange a marriage between Peter and the blacksmith's ten year-old daughter. She would be quite stunning in five years time, Polard thought.
Duke D'Algraine recognized Polard's glazed look and simply moved towards the stairs, followed by his wife and daughter and leaving the innkeeper to his thoughts. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waited as Analina and Katerine went up the steps to the second floor. D'Algraine turned to Polard, who had come out of his daydream and was standing there with a slightly dejected look on his face.
"You might still want to build that fire, Innkeep," D'Algraine said. "I am expecting someone very important, along with his entourage. They should be here tonight and might be more in favor of a meal by the fireplace. Either way, we shall stay until they arrive and then leave the following morning."
"Yes, your Grace," Polard replied, "all will be prepared." Polard walked to the fireplace grumbling about how the first costumer he's had in two days happened to be one of the rudest he's ever had.
To be continued....
-------------------- Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid; people can be made to believe any lie, either because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it's true. -- Terry Goodkind
Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
posted
quote:Originally posted by son of lucas: <steals>
-------------------- Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid; people can be made to believe any lie, either because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it's true. -- Terry Goodkind
Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
posted
quote:Originally posted by ShadowDog: Have you been published before, then? Is there an amazon page for your books?
To finally answer your question, no, I haven't been published before, which also means there's no such page at Amazon or any others. This will be my first legitimate chance at doing so. I have already written a novel-length story (which you can read the rough copy of by following the Starchild link in my sig), but as I took a lot of technology from the Star Trek universe, it would be nearly impossible to publish until after I'd already established myself as a writer. (Star Trek has this odd policy of not allowing any novels that take place in the Star Trek universe that DOESN'T have at least ONE main character from one of the series. At least not from un-estabished authors. Go figure. )
*Wonders where his once devoted band of readers disappeared to* Anyone else out there?
-------------------- Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid; people can be made to believe any lie, either because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it's true. -- Terry Goodkind
posted
I really like this, Richelt; I think it's really good. It isn't boring at all, but you've explained everything to the point it can be understood. I find that's a problem that I have, trying to put in all the details without rambling. You've quite cleverly avoided that. Good job
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quote:Originally posted by Undome Telcontar: wow, irish is cool...
Padawan learner of Master Ven Halcyon Posts: 1771 | From: Michigan, one of the only places that's dumb enough to have a state soil | Registered: Apr 2004
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Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
posted
Well, it's a problem that I've had to deal with for a while. I sometimes have problems putting into words what I envision in my head, and I'll literally spend a paragragh going in circles trying to describe it and getting more redundant as I go. So I have to fight against those redundancies.
I think I would be a more effective storyteller if I were to work in a more visual medium, but I can't draw and I don't have a film background and I don't know anyone who does that I can colaborate with, so I'm stuck with trying to put words to my visions.
But anyway... On to chapter two!
-------------------- Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid; people can be made to believe any lie, either because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it's true. -- Terry Goodkind
Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
posted
Chapter Two
"Kate!?" D'Algraine shouted. The Duke and the Patriarch both turned their heads behind them to see the Shadow Fiend begin its charge at Katerine. The white, light spell that the Patriarch was preparing to cast at the Shadow Fiend in front of his brother was turned instead on the one attacking Katerine. His arm stretched out and the light beam blasted the fiend into black smoke in mid-air as Katerine winced and looked away.
When nothing happened, Katerine opened her eyes in time to see a sight more horrific. While her father was looking back at her, the monster in front of him took the advantage and struck the Duke's head from his shoulders. Katerine's scream and the shudder of D'Algraine's body caused the Patriarch to whip around and see the Shadow Fiend looking at him from over the Duke's shoulders. The Duke's body fell limply to the floor as another light spell blasted the fiend apart.
Katerine could hardly breath as she looked from her father’s head to the headless body. She looked on in petrified fear at the shock and horror of it all, gasping for air. The shouts of the paladins caused her to look and see that their swords were no longer white and fiends were swarming them. The innkeeper, Master Drakban, burst backwards through the kitchen door, fighting off one of the monsters. Two Shadow Fiends raced up behind him and stabbed him through the back right before the fiend in front of him lopped his head off too. Only her uncle, her mother and herself remained.
The Patriarch fumbled about his robes for a second before clumsily drawing out a black bladed sword. He held the obviously heavy sword in his right hand as his left hand glowed with the spell of the white light. He turned back to Katerine, "Get up the stairs, girl." More fiends began to approach her uncle. "Go on, Kate! Go!" But Katerine could only look on as the Shadow Fiends approached. One came forward and her uncle blasted it with the light. Another followed, and the Patriarch took a wild swing at it, missing completely. The Patriarch's backswing was even wilder, but succeeded in knocking away the sword in the approaching fiend's hand. The Patriarch was slowly backing toward Katerine and trying to force her up the south stairs. She managed to move up the steps, but only a few. Her uncle followed her around the corner and stood at the base of the stairs, once again taking wide swings with the sword. He tried another light spell, but the monster in front of him ducked aside and the beam blasted away another fiend standing behind it.
Katerine watched her uncle take another wild swing and then suddenly stiffen. Another last swing by the Patriarch and the sword went through the fiend, blowing it into a fine black mist. Three things dropped to the steps in front of Katerine after that: her uncle, the Patriarch, the black-bladed sword he was holding, and a black dagger stained with blood. She recoiled in horror as she saw her uncle raise his left hand to reveal the blood on it as well as the blood spreading on his light grey robes. Loud steps behind her caused her to quickly turn around and look up the stairs. The innkeeper's son, Peter, was standing at the top of the stairs breathless from running.
"Kate," her uncle said, causing her to turn back toward him. Two Shadow Fiends were looming before him, but hesitating. "Kate, take the sword," the Patriarch said. "Use it. Defend yourself."
Katerine looked from her uncle, to the sword, to the Shadow Fiends just standing there before her. "I can't," she protested. "I've never used a sword before. Daddy never allowed me to even touch one." The vision of her father's headless body on the floor of the inn flooded her mind, freezing her in her place.
"Kate," her uncle wheezed, "take it! Don't let them take you so easily."
"What are you doing?" Peter asked from up stairs. "Do as the old man says. Take it!"
Katerine could only look at the two fiends standing in front of her. They seemed to reach the conclusion that she wasn't going to do anything and the menacing white grins on their otherwise dark faces filled with evil glee. She glanced at the sword as her uncle once again insisted that she take it. The movement of the monsters finally broke through the cloud of confusion in Katerine's mind. Panicking, Katerine reached down and picked up the sword.
The stairway, indeed the whole inn, shuddered and the Shadow Fiends stopped in their tracks. Katerine picked up the sword and looked at it as she saw it for the first time, and yet also saw it as an old friend. The blade was black with silvery metal woven through it as if both had been braided like hair. The hilt was shiny steel with gold filigree throughout. A stone in the center of the cross guards looked like it was made from mother of pearl. As Katerine looked at the stone, however, it changed from cloudy silver to something that resembled the bright blue iris and black pupil of a human eye. The seemingly heavy sword that her uncle could barely swing felt light in her hands, and recognition ignited in her mind as she looked at the Shadow Fiends in front of her.
Shades, a voice inside her head said. It wasn't her voice, but that of a man.
To be continued....
-------------------- Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid; people can be made to believe any lie, either because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it's true. -- Terry Goodkind
posted
Wow. . .I wonder what's going on with Katerine. Perhaps she's some reincarnation of the Guardian?
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quote:Originally posted by Undome Telcontar: wow, irish is cool...
Padawan learner of Master Ven Halcyon Posts: 1771 | From: Michigan, one of the only places that's dumb enough to have a state soil | Registered: Apr 2004
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quote:Originally posted by Richcelt: I don't have a film background and I don't know anyone who does that I can colaborate with, so I'm stuck with trying to put words to my visions.
Yes you do! I'm an indie filmmaker. Of course, you would have to get over any film vs digital bias you posses (I only shoot digital because it is cheaper and far superior) but if you can deal with that we should talk.
In any case, I'm also reading this, I just like to save my specific feedback until you've reached a stopping point because I've found that a lot of times the next part of the story would had addressed my questions and/or issues and I end up looking like an idiot. So don't feel like no one's reading!
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quote:The man who doesn't read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them.
Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
posted
quote:Originally posted by ShadowDog: Yes you do! I'm an indie filmmaker. Of course, you would have to get over any film vs digital bias you posses (I only shoot digital because it is cheaper and far superior) but if you can deal with that we should talk.
No such bias exists. Frankly, I can't see the difference between the two. I'll have to claify a few ideas and toss them your way.
Keep in mind, everyone, that I am only posting the first part of each chapter here. There's a good deal more in between what I'm putting here, so if it looks like I'm jumping around, that's because I am. If you want to read the whole thing, you need to go to my LiveJournal page to read it. Of course, you'll proably need to create your own account (if you don't alrady have one) as I've kept it to "friends only ", but it's free.
-------------------- Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid; people can be made to believe any lie, either because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it's true. -- Terry Goodkind
Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
posted
Chapter Three
Katerine ran up the stairs, begging the sword not to talk to her. She ran past room one, taking only a cursory glance inside, not really wanting to see what was just beyond. She found room seven as Peter had instructed and opened the door. The room was dark and much smaller than room one. There were a few chairs, a table, a full-length mirror near the window, and a large bed. She flung the sword aside and flung herself on the bed. The pain and sorrow of the past few minutes all flooded into her mind in a rush. The muffled voices downstairs were drowned out in her tears.
She didn't remember falling asleep. She woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom in a torn nightgown. A single stream of sunlight filtered through the drapes and onto the bed. She began to get up, halfway wondering how she'd gotten there and trying to shut out the nightmare she'd had when she saw the sword on the floor. It wasn't a nightmare, but had really happened. The sound of horses and carts outside and the thud of heavy boots on the wooden floors below began to wake Katerine to her reality.
Both her parents were dead now. Killed by shadow-like monsters. Her uncle, the Patriarch, and all of the men who were with him were also killed. Master Drakban was dead, as were his wife and daughter. Peter was still alive. Katerine wondered about their driver, Henri. Was he dead too? Katerine assumed he must be.
Katerine looked down at the sword on the floor. She'd seen plenty of swords before, not that she had ever been allowed to even touch one. This one was much like all of the others she'd seen, and yet different all the same. The blade was a bit narrower than most she had seen and was totally black except for the bits of silver that appeared in a pattern that suggested that it had somehow been braided in. The crossguards on the hilt looked normal, if a bit more ornamental. She'd seen her father's ornamental sword, the one he only wore on special occasions and never used to fight with. This sword was somewhere between that and a normal sword. There was gold filigree through the crossguards and hilt. The pommel was simple polished steel and a bit smaller than most she'd seen. The thing that stood out most about the sword, aside from the black blade, was the large pearl-like stone placed where the crossguard met the hilt. She'd seen the stone change into the blue "eye" when she picked it up that first time.
So intent was Katerine on the sword that she barely heard the knock at the door. "It's Peter. Are you decent? May I come in?"
Katerine looked at the door as if she didn't recognize it for what it was, or who was behind it. She snapped to her senses quickly enough after a moment, looked down at her torn gown and made a mad dive for the bed covers. "Wait! One minute!" She wrapped the sheet around her, taking care to cover the exposed parts of her gown. "Alright, you can come in."
Peter opened the door slowly. He was holding several dresses in his arms. "I..." He stopped, seeing the sword lying on the floor. He looked back at Katerine and began again, "I brought some clothes from your room. I'm not sure which is yours or which is your mother's, but I hope I found something you can change into." He placed the clothes at the foot of the bed. Katerine took a good look at him in the faded light. Like her, he was an orphan now too. The realization of that fact was not lost on him, as she could tell that his eyes were bloodshot. He'd been crying too. She never knew a man to cry. But then, Peter wasn't exactly a man, yet. "They've taken the bodies away. The Patriarch and the rest are already at the church down the road, being prepared to be taken back to Anzi, I suppose. Our family will be at the undertaker's until..." He broke off for a moment. "Well, I suppose you'll want yours to be taken back to Algraine then." Peter crossed the room and stood by the door. "I'll go now. Let me know if you need anything." He began to walk through the door but stopped. "What about your wedding?" he asked. He wanted to ask more, but mention of the wedding caused Katerine to look away. Peter nodded silently and left the room.
Katerine slowly picked through the clothes that Peter brought. Most of them were her mother's, but she found a few that were hers. There was a chemise that was hers as well as three dresses: a simple blue linen dress, a black brocade dress, and a fancier blue-green brocade dress that she'd need a corset to wear. There was no corset among the clothes that Peter brought, which was just as well. She was in no mood to wear anything fancy, especially one that needed a corset, and besides, she had no one to help lace her into one anyways. She picked up the chemise and the black brocade dress, stripped off the torn gown and put the chemise and dress on. She looked at the floor length mirror. Her face looked much as Peter's did. Her black hair was in tangles as it cascaded over the black dress. She looked at herself for a minute before deciding that she needed a belt. She crossed over to the bed and began looking to see if Peter had brought a belt.
She found two belts among the clothes, but one of them wasn't hers, nor was it her mother's. It was white and heavily ornamented and had a long black sword sheath attached to it. For a moment she thought it might be her father's, but parts of the black sheath had silver attached to it in the same pattern as there was on the sword. It was her uncle's belt!
There was a note attached to the belt: I took this off of your uncle. I figured you had more need of it than he. Peter.
Katerine looked from the sheath to the sword on the floor. Was it her imagination or did that thing actually talk to her last night? She told it not to talk to her as she carried it upstairs, and it didn't. She wasn't sure if she wanted it to talk to her again, ever.
-------------------- Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid; people can be made to believe any lie, either because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it's true. -- Terry Goodkind
quote:Originally posted by Richcelt: Keep in mind, everyone, that I am only posting the first part of each chapter here. There's a good deal more in between what I'm putting here, so if it looks like I'm jumping around, that's because I am.
Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
posted
quote:Originally posted by Richcelt: If you want to read the whole thing, you need to go to my LiveJournal page to read it. Of course, you'll proably need to create your own account (if you don't alrady have one) as I've kept it to "friends only ", but it's free.
BTW, please do. I'd like to have more feedback on the rest of the story beside what I'm getting on the chapter excerpts I'm posting here.
Posts: 5479 | From: Ventura, California, USA | Registered: Aug 1999
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Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
posted
Chapter Four
Bernardo cautiously opened the door. His master was inside and he hadn't been in a good mood for the past two days. It was still very dark inside the room, despite the bright daylight outside. The drapes were drawn, as they had been the day before, and there were no candles lit. What little light there was in the room peeked around the edges of the drapes, casting the room in a dim light. A figure sat in a large chair in front of the fireplace, its back toward the door. There was no fire, and the only way to know that his master was still there was the barely visible black sleeve of his master's robe resting on the arm of the chair. He'd been like that ever since he'd received word from the Shadow that his flawless plan had hit a snag.
Bernardo didn't like the Shadow; they gave him the creeps. He supposed that was as it should have been, but he still hadn't gotten used to the idea. His master, however, was completely comfortable around the Shadow. And why not? After all, he controlled them while they were in the world and while he was still alive. His reward for opening the Black Gate.
Bernardo however wasn't sure sometimes of which he was more frightened of, the Shadow, or his master. The right touch from the right Shadow could cast his soul into the Shadow Realm. The right word from his master, and he'd have no soul at all to go anywhere. It was a hard choice. To keep his soul even if it meant being in the Shadow, at least he'd still have it. Or conversely, destroy his soul, which would spare it the eternal torture that only the Shadow Realm could give. He didn't relish either outcome, though he supposed that he was destined for one or the other given his role in helping his master. The power of the position, however fleeting it may prove to be, was reward enough for him, and Bernardo planed on enjoying that reward as much as he was able. The trick was to make it last.
The morning after his master had confessed to that young priest and watched him ride away, the Shadow had returned with news. The attack had gone off perfectly. The clerics put up a more ferocious fight than anyone had guessed, but the element of surprise had given the Shadow Fiends enough of an advantage that nearly half the clerics were dead before they were able to fight back. Everything seemed to go fine. The paladins had been killed, as had the friars and, more importantly, the Ordinals. Last to die, fittingly, was the Patriarch himself. The Shadow had even killed off the Duke, the Duchess, and the owners of the inn. Bernardo remembered the broad grin on his master's face as the Shadow related the tale. But then the bad news came: they didn't get the sword.
The Duke's daughter took the sword from the Patriarch's dying hands and then used it with amazing ability. She had sent the remaining Shadow Fiends, over twenty of them, back to the Shadow Realm. It was the last thing Bernardo's master wanted to hear. He seethed in anger as they told him of their failure. "How can a twenty-year old girl who has never even touched a sword in her entire life defeat twenty Shades?" his master roared. It's likely that he might have been heard in the neighboring kingdom had he not shielded the door. Bernardo was at least thankful for that. Ever since that day, though, his master had been like this.
As he entered the room and closed the door behind him, Bernardo felt the magical shield go up. He'd felt it so many times before; he now knew the feel of it. The sleeve in the arm of the chair moved a bit.
"How is our guest?"
"The guards say that it's been quiet up there," Bernardo answered. "Too quiet. And with no one going up there with any food, they think they may be guarding a corpse."
"Do they?"
"I-I know she's the Guardian, and because she's not really alive she doesn't need to eat, but we could at least make the pretence of feeding her, if only for the sake of appearances." Bernardo waited for what seemed like years of silence for a reply.
"You are right, once again, my friend,” his master finally replied. "As I am the only one who can go through those shields, I suppose that I should be the one to make the visits from now on. And I guess I'll be taking my lunch with me."
"That would be best," Bernardo said. "The last thing we need are guards spreading rumors."
"Those who spread rumors should lose their tongues."
"It does no good to silence a guard after his tongue has already wagged," Bernardo replied.
His master came to his feet quickly and turned on Bernardo. "Then cut their tongues out now, before they have the chance to wag!" he shouted.
Bernardo didn't know how to respond to this. It was his job to not only follow his master's orders, but to temper his master's temper so that the orders made sense to follow. In such a state as this, though, such tempering could get him locked up in the tower alongside the Guardian, or far, far worse. Bernardo, however, didn't get much of a chance to do anything.
"Master," the eerie voice called out from nowhere. It was the voice of the Shadow. Bernardo tensed up at the sound of it. It was just one more aspect of the Shadow that Bernardo didn't like.
"What!?" came the shouted reply.
"We have found the girl," the voice answered, seeming not to care about how angry Bernardo's master was.
"And?"
"She has the sword. She is on the Bae Creek Road on the way to Algraine."
"No doubt to bury Mommy and Daddy, I bet. When can you attack?"
"Tonight," the voice said.
"Nothing goes wrong this time, understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Double your numbers. Triple your numbers. I want that sword. Kill anyone who resists you. I don't care who stands in your way or how. Kill them and bring me that sword!"
"Yes, Master. It shall be done."
"That's going to make a wedding difficult," Bernardo said after he was sure the Shadow had left.
"I already told you, Bernardo, I don't care. A Prince may have any girl he wants. If word gets out that the bride is dead, there will be a line of girls a mile long banging down the gates in the effort to be next. This would only delay a Royal wedding, and nothing more. Besides, I'll have complete and total power, regardless of whether a Prince or a King sits on the throne, once I get that sword. That is the only thing that matters. I don't care about the girl. She's expendable. If she dies, the Prince will just have to find himself another bride. Won't he?"
"Yes, I suppose he shall," Bernardo answered.
To be continued....
-------------------- Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid; people can be made to believe any lie, either because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it's true. -- Terry Goodkind
posted
I rpinted this all out last night and read it. VERY GOOD! how much time do you spend on world building before you start writing sometthing like this? I would never know what was enough.
-------------------- I've read more books than you. Posts: 133 | From: Your Local Library | Registered: Feb 2006
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Richcelt
Musician, Historian, and Stalker Extraordinaire
Member # 2763
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Wow. . .I wonder what's going on with Katerine. Perhaps she's some reincarnation of the Guardian?
