|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Nov 05, 2006 5:27 pm
WARNING: HIGH RISK OF SPOILERS FOR AMETRIS.
In fact, was it not a Kirby novel, and therefore totally awesome, [/self obsession] I wouldn't advise reading it at all. But I need to keep it here just in case, so *ahem*:
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
HIGHLIGHT AT YOUR OWN RISK.
PESTER KIRBY ABOUT SPOILERS AT YOUR OWN RISK. *puts away megaphone* okay, I'm done. I swear.
11/30: Kirby won with 50.5k, go Kirby go Kirby go Kirby!
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 05, 2006 5:42 pm
Once again, warning you of spoilers. Even the first sentence--especially the first sentence--is completely full of 'em. Anyway...
Prologue
My name is Everan, and I am one of the chosen of Ametris.
I tell you this so you will know who I am, and you will believe the story I’m about to tell—a chosen should never lie, especially not without reason, so you should know that whatever I tell you is true. You can trust me on everything I say to you, because this story is about me.
Well, us. My best friend Kamilé and I are twin chosen, born at exactly the same time to different families, and we’ve known each other since that day. Everyone we meet thinks that we are twins, and rightly so; we look exactly alike, with the same black hair, silver eyes, and crescent moon-shaped chosen’s mark on our foreheads. We’re even the same height, though that is where the similarities end. The more we’ve gotten to know each other, the more differences we find—now, we suppose we know each other as well as anyone could know a person, and we continue to be opposites in everything we think, say, and do.
And that in itself is what the twin chosen are; one soul shared between two people, complete opposites in every way. Light and darkness, sunlight and shadow, good and evil, (though I could never tell you which is which,) bound together with an unbreakable link. Literally, a telepathic bond, meaning Kamilé and I can use our minds alone to send words and ideas to each other. It’s come to be extremely useful, actually, and we’ve mastered it through years of constant use, along with every other skill we never knew we had. Adventures can do that, or so I’m told.
Every chosen is likely to have their share of adventures—I should say destined, perhaps, because that is what it is. Chosen are born to save the worlds, and when they have done this, they die, and their soul is reincarnated into the next chosen. I should say we, but Kamilé and I have never agreed with this chosen’s law. We firmly believe that if the previous chosen, Kamilé’s mother, had not died when we were born, then our entire life would have been easier from the start. Growing up without a home or family, we did not know what we were until it was far too late, and we had already traveled to Sirtema.
Our country of origin, Ametris, is but a shadow of Sirtema, which was besought with a war so brutal and persistent that a deity came from heaven and made a copy of the world, placing in it new people who would not remember anything about the war. No one I have met ever knew the reason she did this, but since then, Ametris, the Shadow World, had been under a spell of peace, while Sirtema has been torn by war for three thousand years. The chosen were created to attempt to keep the balance between the worlds, each and every one traveling to Sirtema and helping the people as best as they could. Many have failed, but overall, the efforts of Kamilé’s and my predecessors have kept Sirtema from being torn apart, and it was up to us to live up to this overwhelming task.
And we did it, too. It’s a long story, but we managed to unite the races of Sirtema for a time, and after a year or so we came back to Ametris. It was as if we had never been gone…I mean that in the most literal way possible. Hardly anyone in our hometown had even noticed we were gone, and needless to say, when we traveled on again, we were not missed. We couldn’t stand it there, so we set out to explore Ametris and see if it was anything like our beloved Sirtema, which by then we had known every league and mile of.
We knew, you see, that we could never go back. It’s one of our laws, ingrained in every chosen’s head, that the journey to Sirtema could be made once and only once, and after that, they were living on borrowed time. Or should I say we?
But even though we thought it was not possible for our adventures to continue, we were wrong. They had hardly begun…
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 05, 2006 5:45 pm
Chapter One
Faded Memory
The giant redwood that guarded over the elven capital, Kocha, had survived years of rain and snow, had stood tall and straight in the heaviest of winds, and had even emerged undamaged from a vicious forest fire a year before. That had been the worst tragedy in anyone’s living memory, but it was not so horrible now, not as difficult to recall and think over, if anyone had cared to do something of the sort. Maybe it was partially because the tree itself had healed over time, growing new green leaves in place of charred black ones, regenerating entire branches; rain had washed the black burns away, and now, the redwood stood proudly by the river, knowing deep inside somewhere that it would stand guard over its beloved elves for many years more, and no force of nature would stop it before its time.
Maybe the healthy tree was the reason that the deadly fire did not seem so lethal now, or maybe it was because the two chosen, who had gone missing that night and had been presumed dead, had returned a year later, having done all that was expected of them and more, and were home for good until the next chosen was born. Maybe that last event had finally brought normalcy to the city again, and seeing the two laughing children every day as it had been a year before would be the final key to returning to the peaceful life every creature, be he human, elven, mermish, or dwarven, savored in the country of Ametris.
But the two bright and cheerful elven children were no more; the chosen had grown up, no longer content with the half-wild life they had once led. Unable to find a place for themselves in their hometown, they had left almost immediately, and it was doubtful that they would ever return. The older elves in the city regretted this, knowing that a peaceful life was impossible without the children with the moon-shaped scars.
And it was. But not in a way that any but the chosen could ever understand.
One cloud-covered, rainy evening in summer, four elves met in the house of Elder Carn, for tea and a chat about the weather and the forest and such, as they did every few weeks or so. It would seem curious that the four who met for so lighthearted a visit were the only four in the city who knew the twin chosen by name, and who had any hope of understanding the brutal trial all chosen must endure. Though maybe, it was not so curious that these four were the only elves for miles who were truly sorry that the chosen had gone.
But all four of them, two women and two men, were carefully avoiding the subject of the chosen, sipping their tea and chatting lightly with one another. The youngest, a willowy female with short yellow hair, had taken up the task of pouring the tea for her friends, splashing droplets out of the porcelain cups from time to time as she laughed a young girl’s laugh, following the conversation earnestly as the chatter went back and forth between a woman and a man of around the same age. The older woman bore a close resemblance to the younger, with the same short yellow hair and slanted blue eyes; they were obviously sisters, at the very least. The young man she was talking to had the look of a scholar, with messy hair and glasses grimy with dust.
A kettle whistled in the heart of a small fire in the grate, and the younger woman wrapped a cloth around her hand and lifted it carefully out, pouring the boiling water over fresh tea leaves. As the water darkened, emanating a sweet aroma, she offered the teapot to an elderly man, sitting in an armchair within the glow of the fire.
“More tea, Carn?” she asked pleasantly. He shook his head.
“I’m fine, thanks,” he said quietly.
“What’s got you down so suddenly?” she inquired, crossing her legs in the armchair facing his.
“Just the weather, is all, Professor.”
She winced, as if he had insulted her. “Ugh, don’t call me that, it makes me feel so old. Should I start calling you ‘Elder’, now?”
“No, no,” Carn laughed quietly. “I like to feel young, Marli. Please, don’t spoil it for me.”
“So what’s so bad about the weather, anyway?” she persisted. “It’s the same every year, always the same month, the same week, the same day. I swear, someone could make a chart of this year’s weather, and use it every year until they died.”
“Marli, quit annoying him,” her sister admonished, looking over at her.
Marli rolled her eyes. “I’m not annoying him, Raena…am I?” she added to Carn.
“You’ve been worse.” Marli grinned.
“And you’re right about the weather,” he concurred. “It’s always the same, and always has been, thank the gods.”
“Why do you say that?” Marli wrinkled her nose. “It’s boring…”
“Because imagine if it had not rained on exactly the same day two years ago,” he said quietly.
“Two years ago? But that was…”
“The last time the Festival was held here,” the younger man spoke up. “And the night of the fire…”
“And the night the chosen disappeared,” Carn said. “And the other was soon to follow.”
“Is that what happened?” Raena inquired, setting her tea down. “Kamilé disappeared?”
“No. Everan first. But being who they are, Kamilé had to follow sooner or later…”
“I always wondered how she stayed for so long.” Marli shook her head. “If she hadn’t left right when she had, she would have gone insane…”
“And we didn’t help, did we?” Carn sighed sadly.
“Probably not,” Marli admitted. “But at least she knew before she left.”
“Knew what?” Raena spoke up.
“Knew that she and Everan were the chosen.”
“You mean she didn’t know before then?” she asked, amazed. “Why not?”
“Yeah, why?” Marli glared at Carn, who frowned at her, hastily taking a sip of tea.
“It was law,” he said simply.
“What a stupid law,” Raena snorted, rolling her eyes.
“And guess who made it?” Marli muttered to herself.
“What’s wrong with the Ametrisans around here, anyway?” her sister demanded. “They’re all so strange…”
“Shut up, Raena,” Marli told her lightly. “Don’t insult the natives, am I right, Kayle?”
The young man nodded, casting Raena a look of mock severity over his crystal glasses. “That’s right, Raena,” he lectured sternly. “No mocking the ignorant people of your sister world…”
“Shadow world, Kayle,” Raena corrected, shoving him in the shoulder. “Honestly, you need to read up on us a little more, if you’re going talk about us with two originals and the father of a chosen.”
“What do you mean, originals?”
Marli and Raena grinned at each other, as if sharing in some secret joke. “Nothing you would understand, Kayle,” Marli said secretively. “It’s a Sirtema thing.”
He laughed, taking no offense. “But why is Ametris the shadow world, when we are the ones who haven’t had a war since the worlds split apart?”
“Because that’s what you are,” Marli explained simply. “Shadow. Vapor, mist, whatever you want to call it. Light can exist without shadow, but shadow can’t exist without light. And light always comes first, right?”
“And you should know this already, Kayle,” Raena added firmly, “there was no splitting apart. Ametris is just a copy of our world.”
“Not exactly.” He took a sip of tea, straightening his glasses as they slid down his nose. “When Ametris was first created, it was, I suppose. But the people aren’t the same anymore, and the worlds exist on parallels now. Sirtema has far more races than us, and has been constantly at war…”
“I have taught you well, Kayle,” Marli said proudly, attempting a bow from her awkward position.
“We’re not constantly at war,” Raena objected, annoyed.
“Yeah, Rae,” Marli admonished her, “we kind of are. If it weren’t for the chosen…”
She paused. Once again, they had touched upon the subject of the chosen…as they invariably did, every time they met.
“Are they twins?” Raena said at last, breaking the silence. “I’ve always wondered, because everyone called them ‘twin chosen’…”
“No, they aren’t related,” Carn confirmed, a little sadly. “But who Everan’s parents are, I’ll never be sure. That’s something he’ll have to find out for himself.”
They were silent for a while, each with their own thoughts. After awhile, Kayle spoke up.
“Where do you think they are now?”
Carn laughed, and Marli smiled. Both knew the two children all too well. “Knowing them, probably right where everything is happening,” Carn answered. “They were living so calmly all their lives, but after that one adventure they can’t be content. I’m surprised they stayed as long as they did.”
“They never could be where peace is,” recalled Raena. “They would never go somewhere that didn’t need them. It must be awful for them here.”
“What do you mean, Raena?” Kayle asked her, setting his cup on the table.
“Since they didn’t know they were chosen, I guess—” Marli glared at Carn again, who ignored her—“they probably hadn’t had any special attention or anything….So obviously, even though everyone was so excited to see them in Sirtema, no one was here. I guess it’s because Ametris doesn’t need them, but it must be lonely to have something special about yourself, and no one ever noticed or cared…and even though they had to go through so much in Sirtema, they never quit, because they liked the adventure their journey turned into. They had an entire country’s fate in their hands, and they liked it.”
“The chosen have always had a need for adventure,” Carn said quietly. But everyone heard him.
“And when there are two, their destinies are always to do something great,” Marli added. “Kilio and Tara did, and even though they were content to settle down after their adventure was over, Kamilé and Everan probably keep thinking there’s another adventure for them somewhere. And they won’t ever stop traveling and exploring, like almost every other chosen has done.” She smiled slightly at this, as did Carn.
“But they aren’t like every other chosen,” he noted. “There’s two of them. Kilio was something like Kamilé, I believe…he didn’t want to end his adventures either, I would guess. The only thing that could have made him do that was Tara. But if there’s anyone who’s hoping that my granddaughter will get married and have a family one day, with Everan, no less, they will be sadly disappointed. She wouldn’t stand for it, not even if it meant the end of the primary bloodline…”
“But then there will be no more chosen, right?” Kayle asked anxiously.
“Kayle, come on!” Marli said indignantly. “You can’t have forgotten already!” She pointed to herself, rolling her eyes. “The Inachi line!”
“Right…” Kayle muttered. “I did forget.”
“Neither of them would ever dream of leaving a child of theirs without any parents,” Carn said, as if he hadn’t heard the interruption. “They know too well what it’s like to be orphaned at birth…”
“So she and Everan will always just be friends?” Raena asked, with a small, almost sad smile. Kayle looked from her to Carn, to Marli, who wasn’t paying attention, her misty eyes focused elsewhere.
“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Carn said evasively, looking old, tired, and sad all of a sudden. “But they’ll never marry, to each other or to anyone else. A new chosen will be born sometime. I just hope that she and Everan get their taste of adventure before that happens.”
Silence fell across them once more. Each of them were thinking exactly the same thing.
Reincarnation.
Another chosen would be needed. And knowing Sirtema, it would be soon. Their friends were living on borrowed time.
“Wait a second…” Marli said slowly. “The seventh day of the summer solstice…” Her eyes widened, and she slapped herself on the forehead. “How could I forget! It’s—”
“Their birthday,” Carn completed.
Marli’s eyes met those of her companions, whose expressions told her that they, too, had forgotten. Carn’s eyes were locked onto the flickering fire, with an entirely different look in them.
“I had remembered,” he said, “but I doubt anyone else had. After all, how could I forget my own granddaughter’s birthday?”
“And grandson’s,” Marli admonished him under her breath. “Don’t make that mistake, Carn…”
He acted as if he could not hear; maybe he couldn’t. After all, he was over fifty years ahead of her mere seventeen.
“I forgot,” Kayle said, surprised with himself. “I can’t believe I forgot…So they’re thirteen now?” He grinned. “That’s always interesting…”
“Everything happens at thirteen, right, Marli?” Raena fixed serious eyes on her sister. “That’s how old you were—”
“—when I came here,” Marli finished. “I remember. It’s the age when children become adults, and start growing up, though I think Kamilé and Everan have already done that.”
“Oh, never,” Kayle interjected. “Not them. I’m not sure they’ll ever change from the way they were when I saw them last.”
“Even chosen grow up,” Raena added.
Silence fell over them all, broken by only the tinkling of china and crackling of the fire, each of them with their own thoughts.
“Do you think they’ll come back?” Kayle asked suddenly, and everyone looked up at him.
“No,” Carn surprised them all by saying. “Not for a very long time.”
“Well, of course not,” Marli said airily, as if nothing more could be expected. “But they’ll be at the festival, won’t they?”
Her eyes turned to a tiny disk mounted on the mantelpiece, hardly bigger than her teacup; a circle spilt into jagged halves, one side black and the other white. The talisman had some sacred power in both worlds, though here, its full abilities would never be unleashed.
“I wish I knew,” Carn replied. “Marli, you will take the Heart of Ametris, won’t you?”
She nodded, eyeing the tiny disk. “Of course I will. How much room could it possibly take up?”
Carn nodded, his attention focused on the dying embers of the fire.
“And if I see Kamilé and Everan,” she added quietly, “I’ll give them your greetings.”
“Thank you,” he said gratefully.
“Is there anything else we should tell them?” Raena inquired.
“Yes,” he replied, smiling. “Tell them that I wish them both a happy birthday. After all…once, it was a holiday for the entire island.”
She smiled back, raising her teacup slightly; the rest of them followed suit, silently toasting the chosen of Ametris.
Silence fell over them, until after a while, Kayle spoke up.
“I wonder where they are?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 6:31 pm
I couldn't help myself, I had to read it, spoilers and all. And wow, I'm really glad I did. I love this story, and I really hope you post more of this up here. I know you're probably busy with NaNo and all, but if you want, I'd love to read more!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 6:33 pm
Heh, I was confused at first. I'm like, "Hm. Whiteness. Awesome." sweatdrop
I'll read this once I get around to reading some Ametris stuff. (/St. Razorblade is lazy)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 7:09 pm
nyeeee. *happiness*
this IS my Nano, of courseeee. I really should be working on all my stories...that way, it won't be so spoilerific. But I don't have the tiiiime~
Whiteness pwns. But black-and-whiteness is even better >.<
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 8:51 pm
Chapter Two:
Thirteen
As it happened, the chosen of Ametris were less than ten leagues away from Ametris’s capital, at the base of the Norelis Mountains. The rough terrain, nothing bit huge, fissured rocks and rocky soil for miles, completely swallowed the dim glow of a small fire burning in the gap between two tall walls of solid rock. The narrow passage was hardly the breadth of a grown man from head to toe tips, but was just the right size to accompany two young children, with a little room for a pack, a shoulder bag, and a campfire.
The crescent moon reclined amidst distant stars, the edge of a cloud of mist creeping over the top of the wall of rock. It was dark in the small space, though outside in the cutting wind of the arid plain moonlight bathed the dirt, stones, and scrubby bushed in pale silver. The flickering orange-red flames made a small circle of light around the two, brightening the immediate world around them but leaving the rest in deep shadow. Neither of them were afraid of the darkness; their sharp eyes could see easily in worse conditions than these.
One of them, a lithe, long-haired girl, hummed absently as she prodded two half-cooked turnovers resting on a flat stone in the fire, pushing them this way and that carelessly. The sharp green twig she used did not burn in the fire, emerging completely unharmed as she waved it vaguely back and forth. The fire needed no fuel; indeed, the flat stone and the food on them rested on the rocky ground, with not a stick of wood in sight save for the twig in her hands. It fed on the cold desert air alone, generating heat without burning a thing.
The girl grew bored and tossed the twig aside, brushing curly black strands of hair from her silver eyes. A scar on her forehead, a reflection of the crescent moon above, shone in the firelight. She ran a hand over the dancing flames, feeling the slight heat, enthralled by the fire that seemed to defy nature as it consumed the air alone. Her eyes shone with a bright orange light, a half-wild gleam flickering behind the reflection of the flames. She resembled a curious, rough-natured tomcat as she played with the fire, making so bold as to even brush her hand in the heart of it, amazed when it came out without a mark.
Everan, she thought, how did you make this? It’s so cool! Her companion, a boy as lean and tough in appearance as she was, answered her from his curled-up position, his back to the rough wall. A thought from him reached her: It’s just magic, Kamilé.
But it doesn’t burn or anything! How’s it work? She seemed to take no notice of the strangeness of it all, sweeping her hand in and out of the magical fire, enjoying the faint tingling sensation as the magic passed over her skin.
Silver eyes, exactly the same as her own, peered over the top of an old blanket at her, as calm, steady, and intelligent as hers were wild and curious. I’d tell you, he replied, but you’d just get bored.
Good point. She folded her legs and sat by the fire, meeting his eyes as they conversed in complete silence. But tell me anyway.
It doesn’t burn anything, he explained briefly, it generates heat without consuming anything but oxygen and its own smoke, and can be as bright as I want it to be. She sighed, pushing her hair behind her pointed ears. I don’t get it. What’s generate mean, and what’s oxygen? Give off, he defined for her patiently, and oxygen is just air.
Why don’t you say so, then?
Because not all air is oxygen, there’s a lot of other elements, and—
You were right, she cut him off, stifling a yawn, this is boring.
Hey, you asked.
She poked a turnover with the stick again, uninterested. What’s in these?
Um, mushrooms, herbs, and a few other things I found in our pack. Don’t burn them…
I can’t, can I, if the fire won’t burn things…
It’s still hot. If you left your hand in there for a few seconds, you’d feel it…don’t try it! he added hastily as she made to raise her hand again.
I wasn’t. He rolled his eyes. Are they ready yet?
How would I know? I can’t cook.
True. He pushed the blanket off of himself and sat up, stretching, coming over to sit next to her. In the light, she and he appeared to be twins—alongside the eyes, they also had the same black hair, though his was short and straight, and he, too, bore a scar in the shape of a crescent moon on his forehead, though it faced the opposite way as hers. He wore the same rough, ill-fitting clothes as she did, that looked old and worn and were clumsily made, albeit sturdy and warm, but instead of a tunic over the identical white shirt and canvas pants, he wore an old, faded blue jerkin. The boots on his feet were even mirror images of hers…indeed, they weren’t hers at all, but his, though it was hard to tell.
But that was where the similarities stopped, for his expression was serious and intense, and his movements were strong and purposeful whereas hers were birdlike and flitting. She had tied her hair back with a ribbon, as if annoyed by it, but his fell smoothly in front of his eyes, hardly noticed, as if every strand was under his control. The tangible difference in them was completely obvious, contrasting harshly with their identical features and size.
He took the stick from her grasp and prodded one of the two turnovers carefully. Yeah, they’re ready, he confirmed, scooping one out of the fire with a smooth movement and tossing it to her. Careful, it’s hot.She took a bite, licking hot gravy off of her fingers before it burned them. Mm, it’s good. Why haven’t we tried these before?
Because I actually have time to cook things now, he replied, chewing on his own dinner. It took a long time to make, didn’t you notice?
Kinda. So that’s why you fell asleep…
He snorted. As if anyone could fall asleep with you around.
As if anyone would want to, she countered. You’re really boring today, arencha?
Not really. Why aren’t you tired? We’ve been climbing down that mountain all day…
She shrugged. I dunno. I guess we’ve done worse, right? This really is good, she added unexpectedly.
Glad you like it, he replied, smiling.
Hey, when’s the festival?
Three days. He glanced up at the moon, already past its zenith in the night sky. Yeah, just about three days.
How far is it? she inquired.
Around ten leagues.
Oh, no problem. If there was one thing they both understood, it was the concept of distance and time. We can do that, easy.
But that’s as eagles fly, he pointed out. It might take us an entire day just to get out of the mountain country…you know how it is. She nodded, contemplating. That’s a problem…
D’you think we can cover five leagues in a day?
Sure we can, but we might not get up in the morning…
If we walk fast, we can make it, Everan said firmly. And anyway, who cares if we’re a little late?
Yeah, ‘s not like they’re waiting for us or anything, she sighed.
They sat and ate in silence; after all, what could they say? It was the truth.
I miss Sirtema, Kamilé said suddenly.
I know, he replied pensively. I do too.
Why can’t we go back? she demanded, frustrated. Why did we have to come here at all?
We wanted to, Kamilé. Remember? We missed our old life…
We should’ve known that it was gone. She swallowed the last bite of her turnover, wiping her mouth on her sleeve absently as she stared into the fire. We should’ve known…
Kamilé, it’s not that we should have known, Everan said gently. We could never have guessed that things would seem so different…She fished a clay flask out of her bag, her mind elsewhere, and took a sip of the pure water inside, handing it to Everan. I don’t want to be here, she told him, wrapping her arms around her knees. You don’t either, do you?
We don’t have a choice. He took a sip of the water, finishing his own dinner. No matter what we think about it.
But what are we going to do when we’ve explored Ametris? she asked him, and he knew the question meant a lot to her. What are we going to do then?
We keep going, he replied simply. We go somewhere else. All we can do is keep moving forward, Kamilé. That’s all there is for us.
One day, she thought, we’re going to be at the very edge of the world, and then we’ll have nowhere else to go. Then what do we do, Everan?
We’ll find out whenever we get there, he answered, in his direct, blunt way. That’s all there is to it.
I hate this! she said passionately, I hate living like this, especially since—She stopped, as if afraid to say it.
Especially since we’re only waiting to die, Everan completed quietly.
Kamilé’s fists clenched angrily. It isn’t fair! After all we’ve done…after all of that…
It isn’t, Everan agreed. It really isn’t.
We never asked for this, she thought, furious, we never asked to be chosen…or to be heroes…or any of that…He laid a hand on her shoulder, calming her down, if only slightly. There’s not much we can do about it, Kamilé, he said truthfully. All we can do is get as much out of our time as we can…
But what for?
…I don’t know.She slammed her fist on the hard ground, her hand shaking in frustration. He set the flask of water aside and turned in unison with her, so that they sat back-to-back. It was a familiar gesture that, despite its childishness, was comforting and fortifying. After a moment or two, her hands relaxed, and she folded them across her knees again.
Everan, she thought slowly, do you think we should just go back to Kocha…and just—
No, he thought at once, not even needing her to finish. No.
No, she agreed. I don’t either.
They were glad they had left. Neither of them would ever deny it. The moment they had stepped back into their old house, built high in an oak tree in the forest, they had known that it would not work. And after only a week, they wondered why they had ever come back at all. Seeing no point in staying, they had left. Now, looking back, they could hardly say what had made them leave so soon.
It must have been, they had decided once, the uniformity of it all. Living a wild, carefree life there until they were eleven, they had never bothered to think that the rest of the elves did not live like that…there was something monotonous and scheduled about everything they did, as if it happened again and again, day after day without changing.
Maybe that was it…or maybe, it was the complete and utter lack of passion or even remote interest that infected the entire city. No one had cared that they had left; no one remembered who they even were, and certainly, no one ever noticed they were back. Not even if they were the chosen could they ever gain the attention of the elves, who, it seemed, had lived too long in a deep rut to care about anything besides their own lives and whatever was in front of them in their day. The complete lack of compassion, insight, intelligent thought—all the things that defined sentient beings—had driven them out of the city for good.
It was different for both of them, really. For Everan, the only thing for them in the city was a life that they could no longer lead, now that they knew who and what they were. For Kamilé, the city held too many painful memories to ever set foot there again. As a consequence, neither of them had any plans to return there, ever. Kamilé had family, of course, but she hardly knew him, and Everan, truth be told, didn’t care about him at all.
Hey, Everan? Kamilé asked finally.
Yeah?
I know why I don’t like my grandfather…she knew that he had frowned at the word, even though she couldn’t see him. But, why don’t you?
He’s not my family, he replied testily. Why should I?
Yes he is, she told him firmly. We’re twins, remember?
They knew it wasn’t true; they knew that they weren’t related at all. But they had grown up completely alone, save for each other…so naturally, they would be just as close as twins, if not closer. After all, who else did they have?
He lied to us, Everan said. And…and he always ignored us, and he knew…
Yeah, she agreed. Same here.
And I guess,he added reluctantly, I don’t like him because…he doesn’t care about me.
Everan, of course he does!
No. He cares about you, but not me. And why should he?
She let out a sigh. ‘Cause you’re his family too. He knows that, right?
I wouldn’t bet on it.
But, Everan…
Let’s just go to sleep, he said, and she could sense his irritation. More than used to her friend’s reclusive, taciturn nature, she nodded and stretched out beside him on the hard ground. He covered them both with the old blanket, rolled over, and lay still. Kamilé stared up at the stars, her eyes gleaming with the light of the crescent moon. There was something she always remembered when she saw it…but what was it…?
The realization hit her at once; she shoved Everan urgently in the side.
What? he asked sleepily.
Everan, she said in an uncharacteristically serious tone, did you remember? He frowned slightly as he tried to guess what she was talking about. No, he realized, I guess I didn’t, either.She let out an exasperated breath, slapping a hand to her forehead. Of all the days to forget…and it’s over already, isn’t it?
It doesn’t matter, Everan said suddenly, turning over again. It isn’t a big deal. He was right; it wasn’t. And it never had been. But she refused to let him pull the sad-but-true card today, of all days.
Everan, what’re you saying? We’re thirteen now! She smiled, taking in a deep breath as she savored the thought. That means we’re grown up…
I don’t care, he replied, his back to her.
Her smile faded as she finally saw what was bothering him. She sat up, placing a hand on his back. Everan… Then she shoved him hard, jolting him awake at once. Stupid, she admonished him lightly, you know you’re excited about it too.
Stop it, he muttered angrily, rubbing his head where it had knocked into the stone.
But she wasn’t listening. She tugged on his arm until he was forced to sit up, too, and then hugged him tightly around the shoulders.
Happy birthday, she said fondly, beaming at him. He smiled back, with the bright smile that she hardly ever saw but loved anyway, and hugged her back.
You, too.
Hey, she said, on a sudden thought, what should we wish for? They exchanged a glance; they already knew. Turning their eyes to the crescent moon, as they had done since they were small, they joined minds and thought as one:
I wish we could go back to Sirtema. And even though they knew it was impossible, even though they knew it was against every law the chosen lived by, even so, they dared to hope.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 07, 2006 12:53 pm
I like this, it's not what I normally read... so It's a breath of fresh air.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 07, 2006 2:12 pm
I know, it's fluffy and cute compared to other stuff, isn't it?
It allllways is at the beginning.
Did I post chapter three? No?
*goes off to post*
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 07, 2006 2:52 pm
rather short chapter, this one: and I'm too lazy to make it white anymore.
Needs more drama, I think.
Also, the name Shan is derived from Shah, some kind of Southwest Asian leader. I like it >.< and it doesn't catch on spellcheck...is that a bad thing?
Chapter Three: Invasion
King Shan of Sirtema was up early the next morning, pacing the small courtyard in his castle. A heavy mist had descended upon the cold night, though he hardly felt it. But he knew the cloud was there, hidden in the pre-dawn darkness and the silent snow drifting lazily about. Late as it was, this might be the last snowfall of the season’ he imagined the faces of all the children in Variah when they saw the snow later on, and smiled.
But the smile slid off of his face as he turned his green eyes west. His brow furrowed, and he paused, leaning as far out over the rail of the courtyard as he dared.
Variah lay before him, blanketed by darkness, a hundred feet below. He had seen the beautiful city in daylight many times, and did not need the moon- or sunlight to know what lay beyond the shadows…but his eyes were focused elsewhere.
He leaned out even further on the rail, straining his eyes, the night air too still, too calm for his liking. There was something wrong…
There was something out there…
He knew it was true. He could not even begin to doubt the powerful feeling that rose inside of him as his eyes locked onto the vague western plain.
But what was it?
He carefully leaned back, taking a jade spyglass out of the pocket of his tunic. Setting it to his eye, he moved it slowly to the spot towards the west that was attracting his every nerve, every sense of wariness, apprehension, and fear. For a heartbeat, then two, he stared into the distance.
And then he saw it.
A tiny black dot moving east that spearheaded an ever-moving blot on the horizon, darker than the darkness, a dark stain spreading over the plain. He followed its predestined path with his spyglass, and he knew that the dark shape moving ever closer, like a swarm of ants, of venomous spiders, was less than a mile away…
He let out a gasp involuntarily, and a man standing half-asleep against the door, carrying a shield with the royal crest upon it, looked up, startled.
“Your Majesty?” he asked hesitantly.
“Terran, come here,” Shan beckoned. The soldier came to stand beside him hesitantly. Shan handed the spyglass to him and pointed.
“You have sharp eyes,” he said quietly. “Tell me what you see.”
None could ever refuse the gentle-natured king of a request; Terran took the spyglass and pointed it west.
“A little lower,” Shan whispered, “right on the horizon…”
“I’m afraid I don’t—” Terran froze mid-sentence, leaning forward even further as Shan had done. “Oh, gods,” he breathed. “What is that?”
“Gather your soldiers, Commander Terran,” Shan said solemnly, his eyes set on the dark spot in the distance. “Variah is being invaded.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 12:44 pm
I like the ending to this, it's nice and leaves the suspense for the next part. Blah I need to work on mine... Chapters 8-25 beckon.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 1:41 pm
thanks!
Chapter Four for me...I should be done by now, but what're you gonna do? I've never really planned this chapter before like the others...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 3:26 pm
KirbyVictorious thanks! Chapter Four for me...I should be done by now, but what're you gonna do? I've never really planned this chapter before like the others... Well, I'm going to do 25 chapters at 2k words each. So, as long as I can pull about 2k words a day, and a little more on the weekends, then I can stay ahead of the game and be done before Nov. 30th.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 6:11 pm
once again; I'm just writing a book. ^^
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 6:35 pm
KirbyVictorious once again; I'm just writing a book. ^^ I hope to one day be an awesome novelist.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
![[ In Nomine Satanas ]'s avatar](https://a1cdn.gaiaonline.com/dress-up/avatar/ava/1b/c4/6aa1e08031c41b_flip.png?t=1244610061_6.00_01)