Username: 78909087 (Though I would prefer to be called Pacermist...)
Role: Writer
Writing Samples (min. 3):
I suppose I could just use exerpts from my chapter book, called 'The Foreshadowed.' Just to clarify, the girl is 14 years old and was pretty much held captive inside a house- so I played up the naivity.
The stones of the keep were cold, much colder than the night air- and the darkness made me feel infinitely small. It would be easy enough to say that I had already been chilled to the bone, and these thin clothes did nothing for it. I shivered for the umpteenth time as my hand felt for the wall, my feet carrying me forward without thought. The oil-lights on the walls were too sparse to illuminate the entire hall that I crept, the glass window above only filtering in weak moon-light, so it was with much anticipation that I stumbled on my own feet as I continued onward.
The chilled stone only added to the distressing fear of being caught. It was beyond risky to sneak into the hold. And even though I was only looking for Faiir the knights could easily dice me as punishment for such a heinous action. Regretting having come, I sent rueful glances behind me as I wound from hall to hall in hopes of enlightenment. Doubling back, passing the entrance and taking the stairs on my left in hopes of finding some clue- I knew I was doubtlessly lost. But when I had awoken, coming here had just seemed like the right thing to do.
Looking back down and in front of me, I became aware of a voice, or maybe voices, though I couldn’t be sure. One corner disappeared behind me, and a feeling I was unaware of spread further through me. This was much like watching a heedless insect send itself into the spider’s web. Rounding another corner, I was suddenly made aware of a group of men inside a hall further down. For a moment, I wondered if I should call out, pleading my ignorance and fear- if only to be taken home and scolded well. Distracted from such thoughts by a dim glint, my eyes followed the knives in their hands- awe-struck by their wicked blades. As a child that had many a time accidentally misplaced a cooking knife, I could not help but wince as they were drawn across tender flesh. My hand flexed subconsciously.
‘It must have hurt.’
My thoughts clashed with themselves for what was not the first time this long night- one half of me begging to flee, if only because they had knives, and the other half enchanted as I watched the men before me spill their blood into a goblet. It had been lain before them- polished gold, garnished with jewels that glinted as only jewels could in the flickering oil and candle lights. The words exchanged made no sense to my untrained ear, but there was a magic about it, a kind I had heard my grandfather whisper, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Perhaps it was because I was, still, only a child and my curiosity drew me close, but inch by inch, I had silently stepped forward- my original quest forgotten as the enchanting ritual continued.
Each man handled the golden cup, saying some enchanting words of their own before passing it on. The secret language almost whispered to me- tantalising my brain in ways that I had never felt before. None of the men faltered in their task, each fluidly moving as though it had been practised many a time. When the last man held the goblet, and began to chant, I inched forward, eyes and ears straining to catch each syllable in the flickering light. He moved, staining each man’s brow with the crimson before offering the goblet to the fire behind them. With a quick flick of the wrist- the fire devoured the offerings, growing, rather than shrinking away from the liquid.
The sleeping quarters, it seemed, had never seen a cleaning hand, nor a visitor, though it didn’t come as much of a surprise to me. There was all sorts of evidence that young men stayed in these chambers. It was almost homely, being able to see the existence screaming itself at you. And if it wasn’t the unkempt sheets, perhaps it was the smell, for there was an odour so foul and permeating that I gagged as I was led in.
Faiir kept my shoulder, one hand guiding me between cots- smiling at my attempts to remain composed.
“You’ll get used to it.”
I turned almost instinctively, unsure of what he meant.
“To what?”
There was a half-smile in return, and not a pleasant one.
“The smell.”
Dread coursed through me as goose-bumps prickled over my skin. Was that really the case? Lanniel looked back as Faiir teased, and his eyes widened as if only just realising the smell of the room around him, himself.
“I’m sure… it’ll be fine.”
Faiir gave a quick laugh at my uneasy statement, and I felt a familiar smile creep across my lips. It was much better to hear him happy again. That sombre knight in the chambers was so different to this.
“Once you have a few lessons, you’ll figure it out.”
The riddle of his words left me smiling, despite the circumstances and inherent threat. I found my hand tracing the stones once more as we exited that foul room, and I had trouble keeping my mind in the present.
There had been another messenger when we left the guest room in the hallway. He had returned with a bundle of things, wrapped in cloth, and a letter addressed to Lanniel. My grandfather apparently had no qualms with the sudden plan for me to move into the knight’s keep. Despite the fact that I was a lady, or that he had never otherwise let me out, he had been ‘grateful’ that I would be in someone else’s hands.
Thinking like that hurt, in a way that I couldn’t describe. He had never been particularly fond of me, nor my strange habits. So now, I held what little I called my own in both hands, shoes finally guarding my feet from the chilled stone.
Faiir came to a stop as we turned down another hall, and I almost walked right into him. Facing him with a quizzical expression, he crinkled his nose.
“I’ll be leaving here, else I’ll miss my dinner.”
Pointing to another door, Faiir gave me an apologetic smile. His eyes spoke of his own anxieties, and I, unable to think of a farewell befitting a knight, bowed lightly. He returned the gesture with a bit more grandiose fluttering, before cheerfully petting the great messes of my hair and laughing at my grumblings as he retreated into what I assumed to be the mess hall.
Lanniel and Aldan had waited patiently for the scene to end- with varying levels of tolerance- and wasted no time continuing on. I listened to our footsteps with mixed feelings, and wondered if one day, I would be able to match their stride. It seemed like they were so far ahead of me, in more than one way- and it only made my loneliness seem all the more prominent.
The next door encountered seemed well-used, and opened with little resistance, or noise. Following the oil-lights inward, I gazed around the room in abrupt wonder.
“First, we must acquaint you with your chambers. As you are a lady, we cannot shove you in quarters with the males…”
There was a pause that Aldan took to shuffle quickly between shelves to tuck in a stray book.
“Though Lanniel would be all too glad.”
There was a brief chuff of disagreement from the lead knight as he pressed open a wooden door at the end of the aisle, clapping his hands to rid himself of the dust. I kept my wonderment to myself as I tried to discern their relationship.
“It’s nothing fancy, though I suppose the smell of old parchment is better than the odour of the male’s chambers…”
Aldan followed Lanniel into the small bedchamber, and the candle was lit, allowing me to gawk openly at the layers of dust upon everything.
“This room hasn’t been used, or maintained, for many years. It is odd for us to even suppose that a recruit would even think of travelling the lengths of books to find this room.”
Carefully, as though the wood would fall apart at my touch, I let my fingers trace the desk by the door. It was a gentle brown, with an abandoned candle, half-used. This room was devoid of all life, if the spiders were to be ignored, and seemed so ancient that a strange wonder spread through my body as I breathed in the stale air.
There was an oil-light on the wall, and I watched in wonder as Aldan lit it.
“Was that magic?”
He turned to me with a smile as he nodded.
“It’s the most basic spell to learn. One you will start with.”
Although knowing it was basic disappointed me, I quickly chastised myself. What had I expected? I knew nothing of magic.
Aldan turned, stepping on the bed to carefully knock out the window. At first, it stubbornly refused to move- but as he gave it a final, thudding blow- it flew open, and the dust was suddenly enthused, making for our faces as I sneezed automatically. The sudden motion only added to the torrent of dust, and our peculiar assembly retreated valiantly out to the library as we let the air work its way in.
There was a pause as we took deep breaths, hoping to rid our lungs of the dust. I was eager to head back in and check out the structure of the room again, but I knew I should wait for further instruction.
“So what do you think of it? It’s quite ancient, but it was well used, when it was used. You’ll have the privacy a lady deserves, and still be close at hand when you are needed.”
Aldan gave me an amiable grin, and I felt suddenly dwarfed by his immense presence once more. Even the age of the building dwarfed me with its immenseness. It seemed like everything here was so intense.
“It’s really…”
Trying to find the right words, my mouth opened and then shut again, my eyes appraising the delicate detailing on the doorway.
”More than I could ever ask for.”
Aldan clapped Lanniel across the shoulder, laughing warmly.
“She’ll be alright- she loves the room, and she’s already quite interested in books.”
Eyes twinkling, he lay his broad hand over my head next, ruffling the tangled curls. My fingers itched to find my comb and get started on the stubborn knots.
“You’ll be seeing a lot of those walls, young Neve. For now, Lanniel will have to keep you. I’ll be back with some fresh candles, and some cloth and water to wipe down the dust.”
Watching Aldan taking off with a cheerful step, I paused for a moment before turning to Lanniel. He returned my gaze with his own, more level one.
“Is that alright? Should I go after him and help?”
There was a crease in the knight’s brow as he heard my words.
“He’ll be happy to clean this room.”
Curiosity perking at the bitter tone, I tried, and failed once more to contain it.
“Why?”
Lanniel looked back to me, and then smiled lightly- and I almost gawked at how it softened his face.
“His father lived here, about 10 years back.”
“Oh,”
I replied slowly, still lost in the sudden change that had been made, despite how quickly it had vanished. Now, he faced the old wood with his usual blank face, and I wondered how often his front slipped like that.
“He would always be here, reading with him, or to him.”
Lanniel swept his hand across the table, and I held my breath as the dust blew up, assisted by the light breeze from the window.
“The air flow is terrible, but there are plenty of other places to be, so it shouldn’t be troublesome…”
Pulling himself back, as though realising that he was a knight once more, he sat rigidly on the edge of the bed, only to cough and rise once more- just as the plumes of dust rose from the sheets.
“Ah- Aldan’s coming with new sheets, so I’ll get those off for now…”
Placing my things at the end of the bed and reaching past Lanniel, I quickly stripped the old linen and turned, bundling them- only to face his intense scrutiny. I felt entirely out of place, and rather awkward for insisting to do something I had only half an idea about.
“Although… I’m not sure where to put these, to be honest…”
Lanniel held out his arms, a slight scowl on his face as I awkwardly shuffled the sheets from my own.
“They’ll likely be burnt.”
His voice was harsh, and I felt myself shrinking back away from him before his tone changed.
“Though I’m glad to see the mattress has survived the ages.”
Only able to nod silent agreement as the awkwardness spread around the room, I shuffled my feet.
Aldan was easy to get along with- for reasons I couldn’t quite grasp- but I could never tell where I stood with the stern lead knight. Was he angry at me? I peeked at him from under my lashes, but only saw his brow knotted with impatience. Was there really any way for me to tell?
While I had been lucky enough to see a smile slip from his façade, was there a whole other side to him that I would never see? Was it because I was so young? Perhaps he viewed me as being naïve. Maybe it was simply because I was a girl? Wouldn’t it be so much easier for everyone if I was a boy? They could shove me in with the other recruits, not worry about dishonour… But instead? Being female garnered far more ills than benefits, and I chewed the inside of my lip as guilt swept over me.
Lanniel had taken an oath to protect the kingdom… Babysitting me would be worthless in his eyes. I, myself would be worthless. So maybe his attitude had reason- and I was the last person that should question it.
I had been about to say something, anything, to break the silence- but Aldan came bustling back, twice the size he had been previously, both hands carrying buckets- one of candles, one of water, and sheets draped over both shoulders, as if mimicking his robes. He hummed to himself as he dumped the buckets and lay the materials on the bed, apparently delighted that the previous sheets had been moved as he sorted through the fabric.
“Here we are.”
Setting aside what looked like clothing, he folded the sheets roughly, and turned only to hold a long tunic against my body.
“I’m afraid it’s a little long, but we do cater for lanky boys, and since you’re still a tender fourteen, you ought to grow a bit into it.”
Nodding slowly, I eyed the breeches on the bed.
“For now,” Aldan continued, tossing a rag toward me with a grin, “we should dust this place down.”
He turned to Lanniel, who bowed, and faced the door.
“I’ll be waiting in the mess hall.”
---
When the task had been completed, with a bit of sneezing, and quite a lot of retreats to the hallway, the dust had been rolled from the fabric and tossed out the window. Aldan gave a deep, bellowing sigh, and faced me with an expression that gave away little, before he smiled.
“Well I don’t know about you, young Neve, but I’m famished.”
Smiling in return of the friendly giant, I nodded. He slung the half-dried cloths over his shoulders and then gave a laugh as he took hold of the bucket.
“Well then if you don’t mind, we should drop these off for the cleaners.”
“The cleaners?”
I tilted my head in questioning, and Aldan grinned, obviously picking up on the unspoken question.
“They clean sheets, and look after the common rooms. Of course the boys are meant to clean after themselves, but I’m sure you smelt how well they did that!”
He paused, smiling.
“The library has always been left to me. My father used to stay in that room, and we would make a day of the cleaning.”
Nodding slowly, I hummed and took after his long strides.
“Lanniel told me about that.”
“Oh he did?”
We strode through the library, and I restrained myself from looking down the seemingly endless rows of books.
“Well, just about your father staying in that room… He said you wouldn’t mind cleaning- so it makes sense.”
There was a responding chuckle as Aldan made for a door to our right.
“Before magic became more commonly taught, cleaning was used as disciplinary study. But it’s difficult to accumulate enough dust for all of the users, so I took over the cleaning again. So I suppose Lanniel has it about right. I do enjoy it.”
Aldan’s smile grew into a smirk as he pushed the door open with his shoulder, and gestured around him.
“As for the boys… This is the study- a place where a great deal of knights gather- to read, or to entertain themselves.”
I nodded, struggling to keep step beside him as he led me through the hallway, and down a hall I hadn’t seen before. I was reminded of the strange behaviour of the lead knight.
“Does-” It felt wrong to ask, but I was immensely curious. “Does Lanniel dislike me?”
Aldan’s face showed momentary surprise before he bellowed a laugh that made me jump.
“Young Neve, fear not for his opinion, as it changes eternally.”
I smiled awkwardly at his reassuring words, and watched from a distance as he delivered the sheets to a kindly woman. She gave me a careful appraisal and a wave before she disappeared, and I was left feeling both unnerved and satisfied. If only all greetings were as simple as that- I aimlessly wished- without people trying to observe potential within me that I could not imagine myself possessing.
Aldan led me back down the hall, and I felt my legs burn lightly at the long strides.
“Does she know about me, then?”
“Who? The cleaner?” He continued when I nodded. “Well, yes, though staff don’t ask many questions.”
“Good morning, Lanniel.”
Aldan spoke a fraction louder, and more ominously to the lead knight than he had to me, and I watched as the space between us shrunk further.
“Good morning, Aldan, Neve…”
He paused to look over my attire, and then nodded sharply.
“Did you sleep well?”
While I could have answered that question in a million ways, I only managed a nod, and Aldan sighed before turning to depart.
“I’ll be waiting inside.”
His footsteps were loud, echoing on the stone between the walls as he left- the door closing with a sense of finality as a shiver wrecked my spine.
I was alone, with Lanniel- and I felt as though I were to be punished, somehow.
“Neve?”
“Y-yes!”
Turning far too suddenly to be anything but nervous, Lanniel raised a brow.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about, it’s just you and I.”
And that was exactly why I was nervous…
Though I dared not speak my thoughts, they continued unfiltered as he lifted a sword to point.
Perhaps Lanniel was a beast, and could smell my fear, for he lifted another sword out to me and waited until I hesitantly gripped the hilt.
As soon as he let go- it fell to the ground, and I heaved it back up with more effort than I would ever expect. Faiir had never looked as though swords were this heavy- was it just this one? No, even Lanniel had handled it easy enough. It was probably just because I was weak- just starting out. That was all.
I had heard him speak, but I had been so busy thinking about the unexpected weight, I had all but missed the words. So when Lanniel’s sword came toward me, I immediately dropped mine and threw myself backward- landing ungracefully on my behind.
There was a silence that lasted a few seconds after my display as Lanniel stood forward and pressed the end of his dulled blade to my chest.
“What happened?”
Heart racing, I thought over the last few seconds in detail, before I opened my mouth.
“I panicked- I thought you were attacking me-”
“I was. I told you to guard.”
Desperate to plead my case, I pulled myself further from his blade and swallowed heavily.
“I’m sorry- I’ve never done this before- I didn’t know what to expect-”
“Never.” He interrupted me, and I fell into immediate silence. “Never drop your weapon.”
My stomach dropped at his tone, and I felt tears in the corners of my eyes.
It was obvious I had messed up big time. Even I could see how ridiculously stupid my move had been. And I was meant to protect humanity? No wonder they said I could destroy it. As things were, the chances of survival didn’t look too great.
“Pick up the sword, and run at me.”
Lanniel drew back, and I slowly pushed myself to my feet, grabbing the sword with renewed strength. It was far too heavy for me to manipulate comfortably, but it would have to work.
Making to run, I kept the blade up, and discovered quickly how uncomfortable and awkward it was to run holding a weapon.
“What are you doing?”
Lanniel had stepped to the side, and I huffed lightly as I tried tilting the sword in some other direction in hopes that it would magically become comfortable.
“You balance your stride with your arms- keeping your sword arm still sacrifices your balance and makes you easy to topple, and prone to tripping.”
“I’m sorry-” I was exasperated- “but I’ve never done this before, so…”
I began to regret my words as I spoke, and realised that lashing out at the person who was attempting to teach me was the entirely wrong direction of action.
“Run again.”
Silently obeying his command, I ran forward another fifty metres- trying to swing my arm with the sword as it naturally would.
But it seems the world would not have it- and I stumbled as the sword drew across the ground- having tilted too far with my efforts.
“Again.”
He was behind me now, and I turned to run, tripping over the end of the sword before I raised it, trying not to over-do my arm’s motions as the heavy blade forced me to.
Focusing so intently on the way that my arms were moving, I had all but ignored the burning in my legs as I ran, over and over again.
When Lanniel finally approved of my run, I felt as though I could drop the sword and float off into heaven. It was dreadfully difficult to lift now, and my arm burnt.
Absentmindedly, I wondered how he would react if I should start running with it in the other hand.
“Try running from me.”
Double-taking at his words, I lifted the sword from the ground as he charged, and made off across the courtyard. But old habits die hard, and in the heat of the moment, I forgot the very lesson I had tired myself out learning. The sword, forced down by my stumble, met my hip with a painful clash that sent the hilt from my hands, and my body to the ground.
I was numbly aware of the loss of skin on my knees, and perhaps some of my cheek- but the flowering pain of my pelvis was too overbearing for me to focus on anything else.
When I could finally open my eyes, Lanniel was looking down at me with a clouded expression. My stomach felt as though it had dropped through me, and into the ground with the guilt.
“You can leave.”
But of course, he did first.
We first stopped by the horses, and I bit down as Aldan assisted me with cleaning my wounds. I discovered that I did, in fact, remove a portion of skin from my cheek, and I leant to the side as Aldan cleaned it- bloody water dripping to the ground.
We did not speak, but instead, I felt the range of emotions traverse my body. I was disappointed in myself. Lanniel was surely disappointed too…
Breakfast was taken in the kitchen- oatmeal and milk.
The creamy liquid soothed my raw throat well, and I found myself licking at the cup, trying to dredge up every last drop.
There were all sorts of sounds from the mess hall- shouts and laughter and the general hub-bub of speaking. Standing alone in a corner of the kitchen, I felt more like an outcast than a prophesised child. What hope did I really have of defeating some enemy?
This wasn’t a fairy-tale. Nothing I had read in books could help prepare me for this kind of reality. It was real life- I would have to go out there and actually do something. Could I?
At first, when we had entered the keep, Aldan had attempted to cheer me up- but I had insisted he eat in the mess hall, so that Lanniel wouldn’t think badly of me. He agreed, but I had a sneaking suspicion that he may have acquiesced in order to sift his thoughts.
I was sore. Beyond sore- my muscles were stiff, and locked- and my left arm felt ridiculously light, though it couldn’t lift past my shoulder.
Placing my dishes with the dirtied cutlery that was being steadily brought in, I wasn’t surprised to find Aldan waiting for me by the door.
“Back to the library?”
He nodded at my words, and I sighed to myself, wondering how long it would take to improve to a ‘standard’ level.
Not only physically, I realised as I eyed the giant beside me, but also in magic.
If I had some sort of gift- what kind of expectations do they hold?
Will Aldan come to look as Lanniel did, if I cannot live up to them?
When we had come to rest in the main library, I sat on the edge of a chair, watching Aldan with baited breath.
“Come, we can talk.”
Though it sounded like an invitation, I was never sure of what to expect. Many times, my grandfather sounded inviting, only to snap at me last moment and catch me unaware.
“You said…” I sat on the edge of a chair, “that your father lived in here?”
Aldan smiled lightly at the attempt of a topic, and I coughed awkwardly as I slid back over the wood.
Grandfather had always said I spoke too openly, was too easy to read, too easy to manipulate. Even Lanniel demonstrated the ability to hold back part of his own personality… So I had to try. I had to be mature.
“My grandfather Bard Valance, was a scholar who was very interested in the art of magic- though at the time it was more of a hobby than art.”
I sensed that it would be easy to sit through this conversation, but Aldan turned suddenly and stared.
“How is your reading? Did El’Cifer teach you your letters?”
There was a pause before I understood and nodded.
“Grandpa taught me to read, it was how he educated me.”
“Is that so?”
Aldan seemed legitimately curious, and I restrained my enthusiastic nod, settling for a hum of agreement.
“Did you ever encounter the old language? He was a scholar, so it was possible he knew of it.”
Another pause led to me shaking my head in disagreement.
“What about writing?”
Processing the meaning behind his words seemed to take much longer than actually thinking of the answer- but I wasn’t entirely sure of what he meant.
“What do you mean?”
“Did he teach you to write your English letters on parchment?”
My lips formed a small ‘o’ as the meaning suddenly presented itself, and I shook my head slowly before deciding further explanation was needed.
“He had, at first- though he became frustrated with my scrawls, and stopped. When I continued, he beat me for scribbling on his good parchment.”
Aldan nodded, looking intensely thoughtful for a moment before he got up and turned the corner- reappearing with a thin book in one hand, and a much thicker one in the other.
“Unfortunately, you will need to learn the old language. It is quite tedious, but it is a small sacrifice for such extraordinary power.”
He placed the thicker book on a small table by his chair, and flipped through the smaller one for a few seconds, before nodding his appraisal.
“This book is about the documented history of magic, specifically the kingdom’s encounters, including the tribal rituals, lessons, and the way that the non-bloods integrated the system.”
He had gotten so caught up in his own book-world, I was afraid he had forgotten he was speaking to me- a girl that hadn’t even hit her fourteenth winter. I knew less about people than the average child- and I had I not been raised on books, or let out for errands- I could easily have been convinced that the world rotated around our house and garden.
“Aldan-” the desperation was thick in my voice, and he looked over to me instantly. “What do you mean non-bloods?”
He sat quietly as he smiled, passing me the book.
“As it was said before, you have magic in your blood- you’re ‘full-blood’ by prophecy and heritage. Those of us without the magic must sacrifice blood for the bonds. We are non-bloods. Our blood does not speak to the elements as yours does.”
I nodded slowly as I processed his words, skimming pages of the book. It seemed like a rendition of a diary and scientific journal, and there were all sorts of additions- making the writing jerky and inconsistent.
My attention fell on a page that outlined dreams. Reading the paragraph, I frowned lightly.
Aldan, having peeked over to see what had caught my attention, smiled.
“Having dreams is a typical trait of the blood.”
“So they’re normal?”
I dared not hope, yet the emotion was definitely present in my voice.
“All blood gifted have dreams. What differs is the depth and intensity of them.”
Looking back to the page, I felt more questions bubbling up.
“It says that only seers are bound by the unspoken law.”
Facing me with a blank expression, Aldan thought for a moment before nodding.
“Seers are those whose dreams are extensive enough to change the course of time. I’m not quite capable of judging whether the dreams you have are enough to impact the future- but the tribes have a talent for it.”
“Oh.”
I thought for a moment and then nodded, somewhat convinced I was thinking the right thing.
“I don’t suppose I’m a seer, because I’ve told Faiir about my dreams many times and nothing quite terrible has happened, or changed.”
Aldan gave a small smile before he placed the tomb he held down and leant forward to give me his full attention.
“Is it possible that you both could have avoided bad situations simply by being unable to impact the outcome?”
There was a pause while I contemplated the possibility, then I nodded slowly. Aldan remained lost in thought, and I began to reflect on my past dreams, threading the threads of each to attempt to find a loophole in Aldan’s logic.
“Most of the time the dreams are foggy, and I can’t focus on much of them. They always give me terrible headaches- which is why I wake up.”
My sentence ended in a yawn, and I was surprised by the fatigue I noticed growing inside of me, unchecked. Aldan gave a short sigh, and followed it with a smile.
“It is possible for us to sit here and contemplate such things all day, but the truth is that I would have no answer for you.”
I nodded, understanding his apologetic tone. Even if I had the questions, it wasn’t always guaranteed- rather, it would be impossible to guarantee there would be answers. Not everything could be answered, even with the new information learnt every day. I would have to choose my battles. What was worth knowing?
“Why did you choose to pick up magic, Aldan?”
Feeling the weariness at the edges of my mind solidify in the weakness of my limbs, I let the book fall to my lap.
“Me? I suppose it was half at my father’s wishes, and half… Well, your mother convinced me, in ways.”
“How did she do that?”
There was another pregnant pause, and I looked to Aldan- who seemed to be weighing up his thoughts.
“I knew she was of the blood, though she wanted to keep it secret. I thought, if I took up magic- that I might be able to understand her better, that she might come to trust me more…”
My mother… It was surprising to know that he was so closely linked to my family. I had never heard so much about her in one day. And Aldan certainly sounded as if he wished not to speak any more of her…
“Grandfather would never speak of her... My mother.”
“Well…” Aldan began cautiously, “She was not bound to him by blood, and he has a… Distaste for magic.”
“Oh.”
I blinked, feeling as though my eyes were becoming heavier as a yawn silenced me for a moment.
“That explains a lot…”
The next pause only lasted the time between my blinks.
“Did my mother have dreams too?”
There was a small chuckle, and a patient sigh from Aldan.
“Yes, young Neve, she did- as all with the blood do.”
“So…” I knew I shouldn’t have pushed the topic, but I didn’t see why not.
“Do you think she knew…? Did she know what was coming- did she know that she would abandon me?”
Aldan’s sigh was less patient this time, and rather drawn out.
“She didn’t want to leave you, young Neve…”
“Then why did she? Why did they both have to leave?”
I hadn’t thought before letting the thoughts slip into words, and the silence stretched on. Guilt bubbled inside my chest. It was selfish of me to think like that. I had been fed and clothed- and I had no memories of my parents- so there was nothing to be bitter about.
“I’m sorry-“
“I don’t know why they left.”
I was surprised to have been interrupted, and looked up. Aldan’s face was twisted with an emotion I was unfamiliar with, and I swallowed my words. The silence that stretched between us was now awkwardly thin, uncomfortable and forced.
“Aldan… Are you okay?”
He raised a hand as if to shake away my worries, and then smiled. Though it looked forced, it was so bitter-sweet that I couldn’t help but fall silent. When I finally built up the courage to speak, I had to look to my feet, in case he pulled some other expression that took me by surprise.
“Thank-you…”
There was a burst of laughter, and I immediately looked back up- surprised nonetheless.
“Young Neve, there is nothing to be thanking me for.”
“Sure there is-“
I felt as though I needed to defend my own words, and I cut back on my eagerness. It would do no good to sound so childish.
“You’ve told me so much about my mother, and you’ve been so kind to me while I was here- even when I had snuck in… I’ve been so scared…”
Embarrassment shot through me, colouring my face, but I didn’t want to stop- I didn’t want to take back my words.
“B-but you’ve been patient, and waited for me to catch up… You’ve explained things to me, supported me after I screwed up with Lanniel and…”
I couldn’t help but look to my lap. If I attempted to look at his face, I’m sure I would have spontaneously combusted.
“Even though… I don’t think I’ll be good enough… Thank-you.”
There was a pause, and I slowly let my eyes move back to Aldan’s face. He looked so surprised, I almost laughed. But the sorrow inside me for everything I was lacking held me back. Another powerful yawn left me teary-eyed, and slowly, he began to smile.
“Perhaps, young Neve, you have yet to acknowledge your own power.”
Standing in one fluid motion, he collected the book from me and lay it on top of the tomb, offering them back to me. I slipped them from his hands and took a breath as I stood too.
“I thank you for your praise, and for now, I think it would be best for you to rest. The day is young, and you have already taken a toll. I will be back to wake you for lunch. We can discuss whether you’re ‘good enough’ then.”
I was far too weary and eager to be alone with my thoughts to argue against rest, so I merely nodded as a response. The day had seen too many of my mistakes. Hopefully some rest would do me good, and I might be better for it.
Aldan escorted me to the door of my room, and petted the books as he would usually pet my head. I smiled at the thought.
“Remember that these records are only what we have discovered, there are far more unanswered questions than we have answers for.”
I nodded as I entered the room, putting the books on the table. Aldan dismissed himself, and I found myself falling onto the bed as the door swung shut.
I didn’t remember hitting the sheets.
“Neve?”
The voice broke through my consciousness before the sound of my door being knocked on did- and I made to turn, only to realise that I was stiff in muscles I never knew existed. Dull, numbing pain spread through me, and I winced as I slipped onto the floor, landing on my knees.
“Aldan?”
“Yes, it’s me. I have lunch, if you’re hungry.”
I let my face fall into the sheets- my arms too painful to move, even to wipe at my eyes. My hip flaunted the most pain, and I was reminded of my mistake in training. Of course, this was similar to the pain I had after intense gardening- only a hundred times worse.
“Everything hurts.”
“Pardon?”
I lifted my head, pushing myself to my feet with effort that seemed over the top for such a simple task. Having the bed to assist me was a gift that I was all too thankful for.
“I’m coming.”
Hobbling over to the voice with a mixture of pain and relief, I leant heavily on the desk as I pushed at the doorhandle. Aldan looked at my face, and I made a conscious effort to look more relaxed. It was obvious with the raised brow I received that I didn’t do a very good job.
“Are you okay?”
There was a pause as I contemplated what to say. Then, too weary and sore to lie, I shrugged minutely.
“I guess so. I’m just… Really sore.”
Reminded suddenly of the pain in my hip, I pulled up the side of my tunic and was left stunned by the flowering bruise that met my eyes. There were greens overlaying yellows and deep, angry purples- it was puffy, red, and definitely sore… Aldan placed his hand over mine, letting the tunic fall back over the skin and sighing.
“It will be best to ignore it as best you can.”
Nodding- half because I had no idea what else to do, I let my hand brush against the graze on my cheek. It didn’t feel too bad- though I suspected my idea of ‘bad’ was probably biased by the trophy on my hip. My stomach growled, and I looked up to Aldan eagerly.
“You said you brought food?”
There was a small chuckle in reply, and he nodded, stretching out his hand to the chairs we had occupied earlier.
“No honey?”
I felt as though I were stretching my boundaries, teasing about the sickly viscous liquid- but Aldan raised his eyebrows and began to laugh.
“No, you dreadful child, no honey.”
Glad- and relieved that he had taken the teasing well, I put my weight back on my legs and gritted my teeth.
“Well… Let’s do this.”
Aldan stood patiently by as I began to pace forward- looking very much like I had no joints as I attempted to move as little as possible. By the time I made it to the chair, I was breathless. My muscles felt much looser, now that they had some blood through them, but my hip was throbbing, and my confidence in my strength had faded to little more than scraps.
“While you were resting,”
Aldan passed me a plate laden with fruits, and I perked up despite the ominous words he had begun with.
“Lanniel, Lox and I discussed your training, and what you’ll be doing before you see the king.”
Though my stomach felt as though it were being clenched, the sweet burst of apple in my mouth helped revive me as I nodded.
“Has he responded?”
There was a pause, and finally Aldan nodded.
“He says he will meet you at the Harvest Festival.”
I stopped chewing, then rushed to speak.
“He’ll be seeing me after harvest? That’s… That’s not that far away.”
In fact, it was less than a season away. I had turned 14 last spring, and we were well into summer… I felt as though I should panic, but Aldan waved his hand and gave me a reassuring smile.
“I’m sure it will be simple to prove that you are the prophesised child.”
“Simple?”
I could feel panic rising up my throat, crawling through me.
I felt far too weary, too drawn out- like fabric pulled between posts to the point of torn fibres. Though I had complained to Aldan, he had been successful in luring me from my bed, and into the library. I hadn’t the opportunity nor will to change clothes, and I would have to ask Aldan about extra clothing later. He had given me a glass of water, and dried sliced apples. I was thankful, especially for the drink, and in the knowledge that Aldan had realised my love for the sweeter fruit.
He had been speaking for a while now…
“As for Faiir, while he is busy for the most of the day, if you wish to see him during free time, I will do my best.”
I had taken another glass of water as we paced out the hall, and was surprised to see Lanniel waiting for me inside.
Remembering his harsh words the previous night, I was half in the mind to lash out at him. Only pulling myself back for the sake of not being found out, I swallowed harshly and stared him in the eye.
“Aldan, help her put this on.”
Aldan received the heavy metallic item that Lanniel had been holding, and I puzzled to work out what it was as he sorted it in his hands.
“Here, put your arms up, and brace.”
Remembering that I was holding a glass, I squatted painfully to place it on the ground before raising my arms as he asked.
Slowly, the metal fell over me, and I felt it tug at my hair. When he moved his hands away, the weight finally fell entirely upon me, and I took a step back as I looked down.
“Chain-mail?”
It was about the same length as the tunic, and I was surprised at how heavy it was. When looking closer, and taking into consideration how many links of metal there truly were, I chose not to broach the question of weight. It would be best to deal with it later, just as my aching muscles. But I couldn’t help the feeling of uselessness. Lanniel would expect it to weigh me down. He didn’t have much faith in my ability at all, and neither did I. Only Aldan seemed to remain optimistic.
“As before, I will be waiting inside.”
I nodded, my nerves catching up with me as I faced the doors. Through them, more pain awaited. I knew I couldn’t stand here all day, and I fought myself with every step I took past them.
“Here.”
Lanniel wasn’t too far ahead, and paced toward me holding the same kind of sword as before. I took it from his hands, determined to do what he said correctly.
He took a step back, and then, with a movement I didn’t anticipate, swept me off of my feet. My breath was knocked from me when I landed- silencing the words I wanted to yell at him in my confusion.
“Your stance is weak.”
He held out a hand, surprising me when he helped me back to my feet.
“There are four guards. Learn them well.”
Lanniel took hold of his own sword, drawing it out and above his shoulder. Taking one leg back and out at an angle, he solidified his stance by bowing his knees lightly. I copied, watching as he brought his right hand up, thumb under the hilt, facing the tip down, toward my head. His left hand took the hilt behind his right, holding the end steady as he stood, facing me as I attempted to copy.
“The ox.”
He left the stance, and I hurried to copy what I remembered. Right arm up, elbow out, left hand behind, elbow down. Lanniel tapped the end of the blade down, and I fixed my handling, embarrassed that I had let the end tip into the air. His foot kicked at my back leg, and I shifted back, angling my own out as he made it. As he corrected me, I began to feel the stance settle.
“Good. Stand straight.”
I did as I was told, noting that my arms hurt, lifting the sword above me. Just noticing that made me feel weak, and I gritted my teeth, determined.
“Do it again.”
I let my right foot fall back as I lifted the sword above me, tilting it down.
My left hand naturally gripped the back to keep it in position, and I felt almost happy at the revelation.
“Elbows.”
Smothering my glee as I fixed my arms, I watched Lanniel circle me.
“Next is the plough. Keep your weight centred at your hips.”
He demonstrated, taking the same stance as before, and drawing the blade to his hip.
I followed suit, trying to keep the blade steady as I lowered it.
“The blade faces upward.”
He knocked the blade up, and I gritted my teeth again, relaxing my face and taking a breath as he circled me.
“Ox.”
Taking the first stance again, he corrected my elbow, and nodded.
“Plough.”
I drew the sword back to my hip, and he stood before me, raising his head to nod. Restraining my satisfaction at achieving this much, he took another stance.
“This is the fool.”
He started in Plough, drawing the sword down, and stretching his arms out- his hand twisting over the hilt to hold the blade between his legs.
I followed suit, and Lanniel moved to watch.
“Keep your arms still and your balance centred.”
He nodded as I stretched my arms forward, the blade downward, between my legs as I held it.
“Ox.”
I anticipated the request, and drew the blade up, making sure that my hands held it correctly. Checking my elbows, Lanniel nodded, narrowing his eyes.
“Plough.”
This stance was much easier to complete, and Lanniel circled me, nodding once more.
“Fool.”
Keeping my thoughts to myself as I wondered whether he was saying it to me, or for me, I corrected my stance, and was relieved as Lanniel nodded.
“Last stance is through the roof.”
He demonstrated, and I watched how he swung the sword over his shoulders, surprised by how fluid his movements were.
I followed suit, careful not to let the blade fall horizontal as it begged to, and Lanniel stared at my arms, moving as if begging for me to be doing something wrong. Finally, he nodded, and I relaxed, thankful for the reprieve from the heavy chain-mail.
“Take the ox stance.”
Following his instructions, Lanniel stood a few metres away.
“How will you follow through the swing?”
Unsure of whatever I was doing, I stood still, not willing to move and make a fool of myself.
“Strike forward.”
Now it wasn’t a question, and I furrowed my brows. This stance had no range- so I would have to move. To reach forward most…
My arms followed as I twisted the blade to point at the extension of my arms. The chainmail rattled as I moved, and I focused on it, rather than my aching muscles.
“Do it faster.”
I followed the order, returning to ox stance and repeating the motion.
“Good.”
Lowering my sword, Lanniel took plough position on his right side.
“Repeat the action.”
My foot slid back into stance as I raised my sword, feeling Lanniel’s attention on my blade. Swinging forward and out, I was stunned as he took a step- his blade hitting mine. I pressed against it as he made a diagonal cut with the back of his blade, hitting my hand and my side viciously as I gave a surprised cry and pulled back. I was made suddenly thankful for the protection of the chainmail, and suspected that he was all too happy to be allowed to strike me.
“What was-!?”
“That was the crooked cut.”
Interrupted, I shut up as Lanniel walked toward me, taking the ox stance. He swung his blade out, as I had done previously, and held it there.
“If the opponent takes the ox stance, they will have to strike out in order to hit. The counter strike is the crooked cut. Hit against my blade.”
Doing as I was told, I bitterly struck against his blade and he pushed back. I tottered, and he only pressed with more force, pushing me to stumble over my feet.
“Remember to mind your stance.”
Frowning as I took position, Lanniel returned to ox stance, and I took right plough as he had. My bruise made my stance slightly off, but I ignored it as best I could. Lanniel swung out, and I stepped and swung to meet his blade, expecting the force, and attempting to pull the back of my sword to meet his hand as he had to my own.
“Diagonal cut.”
He countered my attempt, and pushed me back with his blade. I stumbled under the force, and drew forward again. He raised his sword to plough stance, showing the step, strike and the cut, repeating the diagonal motion as his hips turned to put emphasis on it.
“Try again.”
We repeated our stances, and I waited until he drew forward to step and strike out to cut along the diagonal. He pulled back before I hit, and I grit my teeth in frustration.
I needed to be faster to get him.
“That was the crooked cut, one of the five master strikes.”
I nodded my assent as he drew back, raising his sword to the ox stance.
“Again.”
He swung, I stepped, parried and struck, focused intently on hitting him.
“Again.”
We repeated the motions again, and again, but I had yet to hit him. He was too fast, or perhaps my swings too slow- but by the time he told me to stop, my arms were aching beyond belief.
“Drop the sword. Run the courtyard.”
“But-”
“Now.”
I shut up, dropping the sword and running, biting past the burning pain as my thoughts supplied many words to curse him with. Before I was even half-way, my mind was set on the burning of my lungs and legs as the chainmail struck my chest- pulling me to the ground while I tried with all my might to push off. When I finally stood before Lanniel, breathless and panting, he only shook his head.
“You’re running wrong.”
Bitterness seethed through me, and I bit past my frustration. Thankfully, he continued to explain before I had to ask.
“You’re running to go forward, not up- spend more effort pushing forward, and less upward. You’ll get further with less energy. Run again.”
Incredulous at his words, I took a breath.
“I can’t run again.”
Lanniel raised a brow, standing straighter and tightening his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Did I ask you if you could, or tell you to?”
I was sure he would have struck me with his sword if I had argued the fact any longer, so I took off, focusing my thoughts on the way that I ran.
It was as if my very breath was made of liquid fire- my muscles burnt, my lungs burnt, my very skin burnt. I was reminded of the fire I had made in the library and continued, determined once more to finish. Every step pushed the embers around my body- head spinning from the sheer effort.
My head lifted to look before me, my feet failing to lift- sending me stumbling, yet continuing to run as every fibre of my being begged me to stop. I had to finish. Lanniel would have reason to mock me if I did not.
Head spinning- my thoughts turned back to my lungs as they struggled to draw breath. Even as they did- it felt as though it wasn’t enough, that it would never be enough. Everything was foggy, and it felt more like I was in a dream than reality. I had never pushed myself this far.
Past the point of pain now, I set my sight on the destination and forced my feet forward. I felt sick. I felt hollow- and yet, I felt endlessly heavy, as though the chain-mail would pull me through the earth and into the fiery core.
When I finally reached the end of the torture, I had no more strength in my body. Collapsing, I felt the scabs on my knees pulled- and once again, I couldn’t bring myself to care. But rather than disappointment, glee settled through my body as I faced Lanniel. ‘I did it’ I wanted to scream at him as he turned to me, but he simply walked over and held out his hand.
“Pass the chain-mail.”
I could barely breathe, but I pulled the chain-mail off with the scraps of energy I found boiling alongside the contempt I felt for Lanniel. He took it, and without another word, turned away. Watching only until he entered the hall, I let myself fall forward to the ground. For a moment, I paused to breathe past the pain my bruised hip reminded me of. The cold stone soothed me as I became aware of the sweat that had soaked through my clothes. It was hot, muggy and damp- but I couldn’t muster any strength to move.
The sound of the door opening again met my ears, and I was made aware of more footsteps. Most likely Aldan, my weary brain told me.
“Neve?”
Correct.
“Hello, Aldan.”
My voice, though cheerful, quite likely didn’t suit my position on the ground.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
I let one arm flop forward to assist me as I sat up, and I took a breath.
“I’m just sore. Would it be possible to bring some water?”
My mouth was dry enough as is, and hopefully some liquid would assist to revive me. Aldan nodded, and paced away- leaving me with my thoughts. Slowly, I pulled my legs in front of me, checking the scabs. I had re-opened a few, but the bleeding was contained. I frowned and sighed, then let myself lay on my back to stare at the sky. It was morning, still, and I was sure the knights would be eating breakfast.
When Aldan returned, I thankfully accepted the glass and drank with shaking arms. He helped me up, and I lightly stretched, hoping that the pain would recede. Of course, it didn’t. I pulled my sticky hair away from my wet neck, took a breath, gritted my teeth, and began to walk. There was nothing I could do about it, this pain was proof that I was improving. That was all I could tell myself.
And I believe that is already far too much. I was hoping on possibly getting to more developed scenes, but that will do. (Just noting that this story is currently over 160 Microsoft Word pages.)
Prior VNG Experience: I've written and constructed quite a few (3) VN's myself, from code up.
What have you learned? I've learnt that it's extremely easy to get out of whack and lose what ideas you were onto before. That's why complete story planning is a must. However, I've also found that I lose interest extremely fast, and due to depression, and other mental illnesses- I can sometimes be thrown completely out of things. My focus is sometimes also iffy, but as long as I have music that matches the tone, I can proceed.
Commitment Level: During March? Well, I think I might be working on my Diploma, but I can see what happens, depending on if you select me, and if I accept the offer. Even if I am busy, you can expect approximately 2-3 hours a day of solid work, and maybe tidbits here and there if it really captures my interest.
Reason(s) For Joining: Really, I have none.
Just to clarify- my style is generally dark fantasy.
I do have experience in Slice of life and Sci-fi, as well as a lot of poetry.
Feel free to email me at
loltoast@hotmail.com or just respond to this post.
Ususally I wouldn't make an offer- especially not being aware of genre or story at all, but I felt like making an exception.
