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This is the first chapter of a book I'm writing; comment please!
Tenshi Chapter 1
The darkness surrounded her, pierced only by the faint flickering of torchlight reflected on the small portion of the stone wall, which could be seen through the barred window of her underground cell. She huddled against the impassive stones trying to glean some small amount of warmth from their earthy cores. She found none. Well, She chided herself silently, you should be used to the cold by now. It’s not like you haven’t had the time. Oh yes, she had had the time; she had had a long time to get used to the cold and damp of this underground prison, nine years, nine cold, damp, and excruciatingly boring years. She believes she was around seven years old when it happened. They killed her family, burned down her home, and imprisoned her, those warriors in silver and blue tabards. She had no idea why she alone was spared.
At first there had been fear, deep and without end. But after a few weeks the fear began to abate and soon the only thing left was numbness. As if all her emotions had been spent. She received barely adequate meals from men and women silent in their labors. For some reason there was always a guard next to her door, what did they expect a seven year old girl to do in a locked cell with only a wooden pail for a toilet to need a guard for? Well at least it was a decent way to keep time. There were four guard changes in a day so, finding a small stone, the girl kept track of the seemingly endless days of confinement. Soon the girl lost most memory of what had happened before her capture, remembering only faint glimpses of that lost life.
Soon, she started doing exercises to pass the time, jumping up and down, climbing the walls using the cracks between the stones as finger and toe holds, balancing herself on her hands, and other things. Then, after around two years of confinement she found that if she sat still and opened her senses she could hear things going on above her stony prison. This hearing was not with her ears though, but with another sense, one that she had no name for. Though it matched, it had no name and neither did she, at least none that she could remember. She learned much through this new talent such as that she was in the castle of Darkcoven, ruled by a man called Thomas the Argent. As far as she could tell he was a tyrannical monarch though no one said as much. There was always a hint of fear in the voices whenever he was spoken of.
Now, she sighed and opened up her mind to the castle above her. Her mind quickly came to two, what she took to be lady’s maids, gossiping. She listened intently as any information was better than none. One of the maids was talking about a new arrival to the castle. That the girl knew about, she had sensed him when he was about half a mile from the outer walls, which was the farthest point in her range as she could tell. The maid went on to tell about a handsome bard always garbed in a thick forest green cloak. His voice was angelic only to be outdone by his skillful fingers at the strings of his harp. The captive girl sighed in longing, she had never heard the sound of music in all her ventures and all she could remember of it was a small tune played on a reed flute. She curled up and, after a while, found refuge from the cold in sleep.
Fire flickers through the darkness of sleep, followed by cries of pain and death. Through the leaves she watches as men in silver and blue tabards set aflame what was once her home, killing all of her family that tried to escape from the ravaging flames. She let out a small whimper of fear. One of the warriors turned his head at the small sound and went to investigate. She tried to escape but the brambles the once hid her became her prison. She looked out again and her view was blocked by steel greaves. She looked up as the flat of a sword came down upon the top of her head and darkness came again.
A white feather drifted down and she caught it. A voice drifted from out of the black, ‘the darkness hides you but no longer. Find the one whose wings will carry you home, as well as the one who’s eyes spy the future on the blank horizon. Beware the one whose life you rescue for he will sink his fangs into your back if he gets the chance.’ The voice softened, ‘Be careful young one.’ And with that she awoke.
‘It was all just a dream’ she thought gasping, but then she felt something in her hand. She stood and walked over to the window, using the reflected torchlight to identify the smooth object. It was a feather, pure white and long, just like from her dream. Her eyes widened, “It was real,” she said softly to herself in amazement. She sat down again and opened up her senses wanting to find if anything had changed in the castle. Her mind seemed to focus in on the feather and it lead to a room at the outer edge of the castle. An image came to her then and she was surprised for before she could only hear the goings on not see them. In the image was a large room, generously furnished. Sitting on the large bed was a tall man, his long hair black against his deep green cloak. His head was bowed and his eyes were closed. She looked closer and suddenly his head came up and his eyes snapped open. The eyes were golden and they looked straight at her. “Well, hello! I was just looking for you!” His voice was lilting and warm.
She retreated from the room, surprised and afraid. This man knew she was there! Then, after a few seconds, she heard a melody being played, one she did not know. She slowly came back into the room where the man sat, his fingers gliding over the strings of a lap harp.
“Oh, let the wind blow,
Set the leaves a trembling
Oh let the water flow,
Let the stream come alive,
Oh let the fire burn,
Content in it’s dancing,
Oh let the earth grow,
In the warm sunlight.
Let the wind enlarge the flames and let the water quench the earth, let the archangels sing in joyfulness and mirth.”
The song ended though his fingers still played the melody until he let that too fade. He looked up, “Don’t run away again please, I just want to know you. Who are you?”
She shrugged then realized that he couldn’t see her. “I don’t really know.” Her voice was faint with disuse.
He blinked in confusion, “That’s odd, most intelligent ghosts I’ve met know who they once were.”
“I’m not dead,” she replied, annoyed. But then added on a softer note, “Though I might as well be.”
“You’re alive with a full mile of range!”
“Yeah, …”
“Where are you?”
“Most likely under your feet.”
He cocked his head, “Underground?”
“Yep.”
There was a call from the doorway and the bard stood up, “I have to go, would you like to follow? I’m putting on a show for Lord Thomas tonight.”
“I will try.”
He nodded in affirmation and exited. She followed him, her presence easily passing through the walls. The page sent to get the minstrel did not seem to see her and led them through the hallways and into the great hall where a great feast was already in session. A voice from the head of the hall called for the Harper. As they approached the girl looked upon in wonder a room that had always been forbidden to her senses, but now, with the feather focusing her power, she got a full view of the magnificent room.
High-beamed ceilings formed an arch high above them and torches on the walls and candelabras on the long tables made the shadows deep. There were many people here, around a hundred it seemed not including the ones who served those seated wine and ale. The din was monstrous and the girl’s ears began to ache. They soon came to the head of the table and for the first time she saw the true master of her confinement.
He alone sat at the head of the table, his throne of oak and brass faintly reflecting the firelight. Long black hair streaked with silver lay braided tightly from the top of his head down to the small of his back. His lithe body lounged in the throne, robed in blue and silver, and a great-sword lay sheathed across his lap. Long elegant fingers tapped impatiently, waiting for the minstrel.
The harper bowed to the man and, not even looking at the bard Lord Thomas waved for a chair to be brought. The minstrel sat down and the girl stood behind him, intimidated by the noble. The din quieted as the harper’s first notes rang through the hall.
“I sing to you now a tale of valor,
I play for you now a legend of honor,
Of Lords and soldiers of great power,
The tale of the battle of Araenor.
Long ago there were two great countries,
Both after the same treasure of old.
The cup of Naranso, the greatest of warriors,
The cup of life eternal.
Each of these countries wished for its possession,
But when it was finally found,
A war broke out fierce and angry,
And neither king would back down.
For two hundred years this battle raged onward,
But neither one could gain any ground,
Till born to the king was a lad of great talent,
Kurai the Heaven-bound.
The lad grew quickly and,
Soon was a great swordsman.
And a strategist unmatched by all
He attacked with great prowess at the city of Araenor and soon watched their rival fall.
After that there is no record,
No written script to tell the next tale,
All we know is the chalice is missing,
And all attempts to find it have failed.
But it is rumored that in some place forgotten,
The goblet lies waiting still,
For a new holder, a mortal hand,
With determination and will.”
There was a pause as the last notes slowly faded, and then tremulous applause broke out, as well as cheering and drunken yells. Lord Robert the Argent finally looked over, one pale blue eye studying the musician while the other was hidden beneath an eye patch. Then the single eye drifted to somewhere above the man’s head. And even in her immaterial form, she could tell that he saw her. His one eye widened and she felt it pierce her, as if someone had shoved a long icy needle into her chest. She clutched the minstrel’s shoulder and her hand felt the warmth of his skin under it as well as the fabric that folded under her palm. Robert stood and made a sweeping motion with his hand, “Away foul spirit!!!” He cried, his harsh voice silencing the room. The girl felt her grip on the bard’s shoulder fade away. The room faded from her view as well as the sounds, suddenly she was back in her cell, her hands trembling and her body drenched in sweat. She let out a silent gasp and clutched the feather, what she now realized to be some kind of catalyst for her spiritual powers. Suddenly she felt the effects of all the power she had used on her body and –exhausted- fell into a deep slumber.
And, yes i can sing all of the songs I have written down here.
 draconicfox · Sat Mar 29, 2008 @ 02:49am · 1 Comments |
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