Chronotrigger01
08-11-2006, 09:20 PM
I dont claim to be a writer in the slightest. In fact im not certain how many if any will read this. the copy-past from word to here got the spacing, and centerds all mixed up, so if it helps copy and past this to word, and center the chapters and "~~~~~" which signify stops of breaks in the story.
this is extreamly rough, and has not ben edited by anyone, only 5 people i know has seen this portion of the story so far, so if you reply, and i really hope everyone who reads this does, and gives suggestions or what they liked/disliked about this story, please be gentle :P
i do not candy coat violence, nor do i abdore it, i tell it for what it is. some things maybe be graphic, if you have any questions or want an update on the rest of the story as it comes along, email me at Josh11111@gmail.com
Enjoy :)
~Prologue~
The cold wind cut her like a knife to the lungs. It raced around her, mocked her, tormented her, biting her, telling her to give up, simply give in, telling her to let the pain end, let her suffering end, let it all end. The wind was seductive, it promised the ending. No I can't give up! I can't give in, not yet. Just a little further, a little more.
The wind howled in laughter, her resiliency; it beat on her, hitting her head, her legs, her back. All the while she kept what was in her arms, shielded.
"Not much longer…" The impending death or arriving at the town, she was not sure of.
She came over the hill. There it was at last, the wind followed her and realized what was ahead, it screamed in anguish and raced back the way it came. It was dark outside except the moon and the town lights. She was almost there, just a bit more and then she could rest. She came into the town, no longer walking, but running. Her legs seared in pain. She knew this town, she damned it for what it was, what it made her, what she became. Power or not, the good she did with it, did not supersede the evil.
Things had not changed in the last fifteen years. The teacher was still there, the house no different, the time of night always the same, always a routine. Death was upon her, and she helpless of its call. The door is all I need to make it to, and then I can rest. She came to it, out of breath, ready for rest. She knocked on the door, leaned on it, and slid slowly down to the small stone porch. Her child made not a sound the whole journey. She kissed it on the head, and closed her eyes, to sleep, sleep that eternal rest she so longed for.
~~~~~~
"What are we to do!? He can't grow up here, it's too dangerous! No…no…what must we do? Put him in with royalty? Or simply walk up to a family and say this is the blood of Cypher, keep him safe!
"Sister, we can put him with one of the blademasters, let him live in the Balamb kingdom. At the least, he will be able to use that." She pointed to the silver handled sword lying on the table. "Who else to be safe with, then with the protection we ourselves use?"
"Maybe…Maybe…fine. Done, but you are the one to make the arrangements, explain to the man you choose, that who the child is, and his bloodline. I will not risk having my plans interrupted, whether or not he can conjure doesn't detour from the fact that his bloodline must be preserved!" She pounded the table hard with her fist leaving a burning sensation on the heel of her hand. "Prophecy must be fulfilled!"
~~~~~~
~Chapter 1~
Every day was like this. Will awoke mid-morning. It wasn't unusual to sleep late. The sun in his eyes, he sat up from his bed, and shaded his face with his hand. Even at this time in the cool, arid spring morning, the sun's heat enveloped his hands, bringing some warmth back into his fingers.
He got up from the bed, and walked over to the washing bowl, splashing his face with the cool water. Feeling refreshed and revitalized, he dried his face with the towel hanging on the wall next to him.
He picked up his belt, tied it around his waist, and dressed himself back in his newly cleaned forest garb. It was an off color brown tunic with a dark green undershirt. Over on the desk he looked at the familiar hand carven wooden box, inside the dark burgundy felt cloth lay the long silver sword.
The blade was embroidered with what looked like a large golden inlaid bird. Never being able to quite figure what it was, he unsheathed the sword. The sword's blade was silver, but much unlike the handle or the sheath; when shown in the light, it seemed to have a slightly faint red tint. Slashing the sword through the air it left a red trail instead of a silver trail like one would expect, and it seemed that over the years as Will got older, got stronger, the trail seemed to linger on longer.
Putting the sword back where it was, Will grabbed his practice sword, made to the exact weight and length as the real one. Today sparked yet another day of training. I'd rather be farming like my friends; at least they stop working before dinner. Light, I go for hours into the night. Will always assumed the other boys were trained with a quarter staff for protection, or a bow to help protect the farm from wolves and whatnot. Will of course was trained. Trained rigorously with the sword, he learned to shoot like others did, but tracking, learning to be unseen, learn to not leave trails is where now most of his time was put forth, never questioning why.
"Some day you will understand." His father said. Jon, was without a doubt, the most incredible swordsmen Will had ever seen. His walking seemed to flow like air as he moved; in training his father was unbelievable. Hearth Oak spring festivals had contests of every sort, staffs, to archery, to swords, to even cooking. Every fighting contest, Jon won. Tomorrow is the day of festival.
Will walked down stairs.
"So he's awake…eat quickly, there is much work to be done." Jon said.
Maybe my trick will work; light I wish I could get it to happen on command.
~~~~~~
The night was cool, and girls dressed in festival cloths. Local musicians played dance music, and torches all over the place kept the outskirts of town all the more black. But something didn't feel right, and Will could sense the air had a rather…violent smell. He danced with the girls now and then, but something made his stomach churn. What worried Will the most was his father seemed to be as alterative as him, then again his dad is always alert.
The spring dances always appealed to Will. It was competitive, joyous, and the girls all dressed up, even though the women did get a bit…odd.
Will's dad walked over to him. Even when Jon moved around he walked with a deadly intent.
"Son, I want you to walk back to the house and get you're sword." Pausing for a moment he then said, "The silver one, Will."
Will walked back to his house. Most people were centered in the middle of the town, very few on the outskirts
And then it came.
Will heard the familiar sound of a bow string snap, and the arrow's malicious sound as it whizzed through the air. It hit a woman nursing a child in the heart.
A battle cry came from all sides, and immediately Will started running to the house to grab his sword. His dad was moving though the crowds directing everybody into the Inn, to keep safe.
What is going on!? Will was sprinting up the stairs, skipping two, three stairs at a time. Flinging his door open Will went for his sword. Attaching it on his back and tying off the back strap he started downstairs.
Will could hear wood creaking announcing the arrival of someone. Quietly moving out of the room Will crept downstairs to see a man dressed in a black with green and gold embroidered vest and black leather pants.
The man saw Will and unsheathed his sword. Will did the same.
The man all out sprang at Will, and time trickled down to a crawl. The man drew closer and closer, and Will leapt over railing as the man's sword came thundering down. The man changed direction as he ran at Will. Slash after slash was met with block after block. Will dodged to the left behind the table as the sword came at him again. He smiled at Will, such an evil grin. The man kicked over the table, and as he did Will quickly moved to the side. Then he darted at the man, thrusting his sword into the mans chest. Will simply looked down at the lifeless body. I killed him…I actually killed a man!
Panting he ran outside to find Jon. The ground was littered with bodies, some from the town's folk, but most made up of the mysterious attackers. Will caught sight of his dad with four men around him in a circle. The man behind Jon rushed at him, and attempted to split his skull. As he came down Jon ducked down low and coming up caught the man across the chest with his sword. Jon moved with a cold fluidity. The man on the right rushed in and Jon spun slashing his sword horizontally, decapitating the man. The man now behind Jon came at him and was met with a block, and then Jon lunged his sword catching the man in the middle of the chest. To Will, it seemed as though someone was dancing, Jon was working his art. A bow string cracked the air as an arrow caught the last man in the spine, dropping him without a sound.
All of the attackers were either dead or the very few of them alive, were running away. The men in Hearth Oak may not be seasoned swordsmen, but every male was exceptionally good with a short bow.
Will ran toward his dad, and he could see him wavering. He caught him as he started to fall. Holding his dad up he looked at Will and passed out.
~~~~~~
this is extreamly rough, and has not ben edited by anyone, only 5 people i know has seen this portion of the story so far, so if you reply, and i really hope everyone who reads this does, and gives suggestions or what they liked/disliked about this story, please be gentle :P
i do not candy coat violence, nor do i abdore it, i tell it for what it is. some things maybe be graphic, if you have any questions or want an update on the rest of the story as it comes along, email me at Josh11111@gmail.com
Enjoy :)
~Prologue~
The cold wind cut her like a knife to the lungs. It raced around her, mocked her, tormented her, biting her, telling her to give up, simply give in, telling her to let the pain end, let her suffering end, let it all end. The wind was seductive, it promised the ending. No I can't give up! I can't give in, not yet. Just a little further, a little more.
The wind howled in laughter, her resiliency; it beat on her, hitting her head, her legs, her back. All the while she kept what was in her arms, shielded.
"Not much longer…" The impending death or arriving at the town, she was not sure of.
She came over the hill. There it was at last, the wind followed her and realized what was ahead, it screamed in anguish and raced back the way it came. It was dark outside except the moon and the town lights. She was almost there, just a bit more and then she could rest. She came into the town, no longer walking, but running. Her legs seared in pain. She knew this town, she damned it for what it was, what it made her, what she became. Power or not, the good she did with it, did not supersede the evil.
Things had not changed in the last fifteen years. The teacher was still there, the house no different, the time of night always the same, always a routine. Death was upon her, and she helpless of its call. The door is all I need to make it to, and then I can rest. She came to it, out of breath, ready for rest. She knocked on the door, leaned on it, and slid slowly down to the small stone porch. Her child made not a sound the whole journey. She kissed it on the head, and closed her eyes, to sleep, sleep that eternal rest she so longed for.
~~~~~~
"What are we to do!? He can't grow up here, it's too dangerous! No…no…what must we do? Put him in with royalty? Or simply walk up to a family and say this is the blood of Cypher, keep him safe!
"Sister, we can put him with one of the blademasters, let him live in the Balamb kingdom. At the least, he will be able to use that." She pointed to the silver handled sword lying on the table. "Who else to be safe with, then with the protection we ourselves use?"
"Maybe…Maybe…fine. Done, but you are the one to make the arrangements, explain to the man you choose, that who the child is, and his bloodline. I will not risk having my plans interrupted, whether or not he can conjure doesn't detour from the fact that his bloodline must be preserved!" She pounded the table hard with her fist leaving a burning sensation on the heel of her hand. "Prophecy must be fulfilled!"
~~~~~~
~Chapter 1~
Every day was like this. Will awoke mid-morning. It wasn't unusual to sleep late. The sun in his eyes, he sat up from his bed, and shaded his face with his hand. Even at this time in the cool, arid spring morning, the sun's heat enveloped his hands, bringing some warmth back into his fingers.
He got up from the bed, and walked over to the washing bowl, splashing his face with the cool water. Feeling refreshed and revitalized, he dried his face with the towel hanging on the wall next to him.
He picked up his belt, tied it around his waist, and dressed himself back in his newly cleaned forest garb. It was an off color brown tunic with a dark green undershirt. Over on the desk he looked at the familiar hand carven wooden box, inside the dark burgundy felt cloth lay the long silver sword.
The blade was embroidered with what looked like a large golden inlaid bird. Never being able to quite figure what it was, he unsheathed the sword. The sword's blade was silver, but much unlike the handle or the sheath; when shown in the light, it seemed to have a slightly faint red tint. Slashing the sword through the air it left a red trail instead of a silver trail like one would expect, and it seemed that over the years as Will got older, got stronger, the trail seemed to linger on longer.
Putting the sword back where it was, Will grabbed his practice sword, made to the exact weight and length as the real one. Today sparked yet another day of training. I'd rather be farming like my friends; at least they stop working before dinner. Light, I go for hours into the night. Will always assumed the other boys were trained with a quarter staff for protection, or a bow to help protect the farm from wolves and whatnot. Will of course was trained. Trained rigorously with the sword, he learned to shoot like others did, but tracking, learning to be unseen, learn to not leave trails is where now most of his time was put forth, never questioning why.
"Some day you will understand." His father said. Jon, was without a doubt, the most incredible swordsmen Will had ever seen. His walking seemed to flow like air as he moved; in training his father was unbelievable. Hearth Oak spring festivals had contests of every sort, staffs, to archery, to swords, to even cooking. Every fighting contest, Jon won. Tomorrow is the day of festival.
Will walked down stairs.
"So he's awake…eat quickly, there is much work to be done." Jon said.
Maybe my trick will work; light I wish I could get it to happen on command.
~~~~~~
The night was cool, and girls dressed in festival cloths. Local musicians played dance music, and torches all over the place kept the outskirts of town all the more black. But something didn't feel right, and Will could sense the air had a rather…violent smell. He danced with the girls now and then, but something made his stomach churn. What worried Will the most was his father seemed to be as alterative as him, then again his dad is always alert.
The spring dances always appealed to Will. It was competitive, joyous, and the girls all dressed up, even though the women did get a bit…odd.
Will's dad walked over to him. Even when Jon moved around he walked with a deadly intent.
"Son, I want you to walk back to the house and get you're sword." Pausing for a moment he then said, "The silver one, Will."
Will walked back to his house. Most people were centered in the middle of the town, very few on the outskirts
And then it came.
Will heard the familiar sound of a bow string snap, and the arrow's malicious sound as it whizzed through the air. It hit a woman nursing a child in the heart.
A battle cry came from all sides, and immediately Will started running to the house to grab his sword. His dad was moving though the crowds directing everybody into the Inn, to keep safe.
What is going on!? Will was sprinting up the stairs, skipping two, three stairs at a time. Flinging his door open Will went for his sword. Attaching it on his back and tying off the back strap he started downstairs.
Will could hear wood creaking announcing the arrival of someone. Quietly moving out of the room Will crept downstairs to see a man dressed in a black with green and gold embroidered vest and black leather pants.
The man saw Will and unsheathed his sword. Will did the same.
The man all out sprang at Will, and time trickled down to a crawl. The man drew closer and closer, and Will leapt over railing as the man's sword came thundering down. The man changed direction as he ran at Will. Slash after slash was met with block after block. Will dodged to the left behind the table as the sword came at him again. He smiled at Will, such an evil grin. The man kicked over the table, and as he did Will quickly moved to the side. Then he darted at the man, thrusting his sword into the mans chest. Will simply looked down at the lifeless body. I killed him…I actually killed a man!
Panting he ran outside to find Jon. The ground was littered with bodies, some from the town's folk, but most made up of the mysterious attackers. Will caught sight of his dad with four men around him in a circle. The man behind Jon rushed at him, and attempted to split his skull. As he came down Jon ducked down low and coming up caught the man across the chest with his sword. Jon moved with a cold fluidity. The man on the right rushed in and Jon spun slashing his sword horizontally, decapitating the man. The man now behind Jon came at him and was met with a block, and then Jon lunged his sword catching the man in the middle of the chest. To Will, it seemed as though someone was dancing, Jon was working his art. A bow string cracked the air as an arrow caught the last man in the spine, dropping him without a sound.
All of the attackers were either dead or the very few of them alive, were running away. The men in Hearth Oak may not be seasoned swordsmen, but every male was exceptionally good with a short bow.
Will ran toward his dad, and he could see him wavering. He caught him as he started to fall. Holding his dad up he looked at Will and passed out.
~~~~~~