lankymon
30th July 2004, 16:35
Please note that everything that I post here has been copyrighted so no stealing! Thanx. :chaos:
Ks this is the beginning of a fantasy trilogy: let me know what u think.
Prologue
The wind rode the crisp waves of the Lower Basin smoothly and clipped their crests in playful happiness. The water rose and fell with grace and leisure for miles and miles until it reached the Jagged Path whereupon it became wild and ragged. The wind accompanied it in its turmoil and together they raced along the coast, dogging the razor rocks and smashing against the cliff faces that signalled the end of the Open Plains and the start of the Cursed Lands. The wind raced alongside the black cliffs and chased the river along its course right back to its source high in the Summit Peaks that spanned the entire length of Auros. There, the wind forgot the water that was now light and darting as the tributaries trickled down their paths from the underground caves towards the ever growing Mache.
It played with the rocks and jutting peaks, chasing itself around the tops of the highest points; blowing the snow into flurries and sending clouds scattering towards the east. The mountains had always been constant in Auros throughout the millennia of her history. Even during the wars of the dark they had been a comforting shelter to the resistance yet remained as mysterious now as they had done then. New pathways were made and old ones lost as the ever-turning wheel of time progressed forward, not stopping for anything. The wind rounded the peaks and then dived down the northern slope, over the hills and valleys of Cyretia and into the bustling harbour city of Lexus.
Connan laughed loudly as the wind ruffled his blonde hair and made his opponent shiver. He stood six feet tall-broad and well muscled. He held a spear with one hand and stood in the small wooden framed square. All around people were placing bets and shouting as the announcer called, “And now! Lords, ladies and town folk, allow me to introduce Connan! The only undefeated champion of our fair town!” Cheers rose from all sides of the market place as Connan shook his spear determinedly. His opponent shuddered and shrank in fear. “And his opponent in the last round of this month’s fights, from the northern tribes of Haydon, Veron!” Polite applause was offered to the small thin man holding a short sword made of bronze whose small black eyes darted from side to side as if looking for a way out.
The bell rang and Connan advanced. Veron dogged away and headed straight to the nearest corner. Crouching low, he held his sword out in a shaking fist and gritted his teeth. Connan approached slowly, taking his time. This match would be easy. He walked right up to Veron who slowly looked up to meet his gaze. His entire body was shaking in fear as Connan raised his spear. With a swift rap on the knuckles, the sword fell from his grasp and clattered to the ground. The bell rang again and Connan walked away in disgust. “Our victor and once again champion, Connan!” Wild cheers echoed around the square as Veron quietly slipped away, too embarrassed to show his face. Connan roared above the crowd, “That was no fight! I want a proper duel! Is anyone there worthy of challenging me? Speak!” The crowd fell silent and no-one dared to reply.
“I’ll fight you.” A quiet voice came from the far side of the square. A tall man, a metre eighty or so, dressed in a black cloak walked slowly towards the ring. He was young, though only his features betrayed him. His manner was calm and cool and his blue eyes shone from under his strong brow. “He can’t be a day over 14!” whispered a woman in the crowd. “He’ll be killed!” said another. “Don’t be a fool!” shouted a man from the back. The strange boy smiled and said nothing. He got into the ring and took off his cloak and laid it down over edge of the wooden rails. He was thin and had not yet put on the muscle of later years. He looked no more than a child. The referee asked in an undertone, “Are you sure you want to do this boy?” The young face looked him in the eyes and replied so that everyone could hear, “Of course! Providing naturally that Connan here uses a sword. A spear is a child’s weapon!” he scorned. Connan frowned and the crowd gasped. He was renowned for his swordsmanship in the town and had only been using a spear as a request from the northern team.
He spat loudly and threw the spear down. Turning, he drew a long thick blade of iron which shone in the late afternoon sunlight. The hilt was arranged with emerald threads and the sparkle of two rubies could be seen from across the square. “He had that made in the far south. By the great Lord Han himself so I am told,” boasted a merchant to all who would listen. “The blade is folded over on itself time and time again making it tempered in such a way that it becomes impossible to break. I’ve seen it done, but the process takes many weeks.” Connan smiled and waved the sword in front of him. Turning it this way and that he completed the ritual and stood ready in an offensive stance, sword held high.
The boy turned back to his cape and drew his weapon. A medium length sword made of solid elm. Connan laughed loudly, “It is in the rules that you must have a proper weapon when you compete!” But the boy didn’t falter. Taking a blue silk handkerchief from a pocket in his waistcoat, he threw it delicately into the air and let it fall on the blade of wood. It severed at once and each half fluttered to the ground before bursting into flame and vanishing from sight. The crowd gasped and Connan took a step backward nervously. “Do not mock Erudious,” he said calmly and whirled it around his head before resting in a defensive stance, sword held behind, body side on. Connan blinked and regained his composure. He waited until the bell rang and then leapt at his foe.
The boy moved swiftly and smoothly to meet Connan’s strike. Slicing in two sweeps, he took the sword from Connan’s hand and sliced at his head. Blonde locks of hair fell onto the ring. “You aren’t very fast are you?” he jeered. Connan, shocked by the speed of the boy, reached for his head. Feeling his new hair style, he growled and grabbed his sword before leaping at the boy. The battle had begun. Connan twisted this way and that, throwing attack after attack at the boy who countered them all effortlessly moving slowly around and turning his head just enough to miss a sliding downward sweep. Erudious met the sword stroke for stroke and blue sparks flew when the blades met. Connan stepped back and breathed heavily. The boy stood where he was, sword held out completely calm.
“Is that the best you can do?” he asked. Connan growled and threw himself forward. But to no avail. The boy caught the stroke against the wooden sword and for a second or two; the fighters looked at one another in the eyes. The boy’s blue eyes appeared on fire and he smiled before winking one of them. A blinding flash of blue threw Connan back solidly through the wooden rails. He landed heavily on the dusty ground and the crowd fell silent. The boy was walking slowly towards the unmoving form, Erudious held to the side. Connan’s blade lay shattered on the ring floor and he crushed the metal shards underfoot as he advanced.
Ks this is the beginning of a fantasy trilogy: let me know what u think.
Prologue
The wind rode the crisp waves of the Lower Basin smoothly and clipped their crests in playful happiness. The water rose and fell with grace and leisure for miles and miles until it reached the Jagged Path whereupon it became wild and ragged. The wind accompanied it in its turmoil and together they raced along the coast, dogging the razor rocks and smashing against the cliff faces that signalled the end of the Open Plains and the start of the Cursed Lands. The wind raced alongside the black cliffs and chased the river along its course right back to its source high in the Summit Peaks that spanned the entire length of Auros. There, the wind forgot the water that was now light and darting as the tributaries trickled down their paths from the underground caves towards the ever growing Mache.
It played with the rocks and jutting peaks, chasing itself around the tops of the highest points; blowing the snow into flurries and sending clouds scattering towards the east. The mountains had always been constant in Auros throughout the millennia of her history. Even during the wars of the dark they had been a comforting shelter to the resistance yet remained as mysterious now as they had done then. New pathways were made and old ones lost as the ever-turning wheel of time progressed forward, not stopping for anything. The wind rounded the peaks and then dived down the northern slope, over the hills and valleys of Cyretia and into the bustling harbour city of Lexus.
Connan laughed loudly as the wind ruffled his blonde hair and made his opponent shiver. He stood six feet tall-broad and well muscled. He held a spear with one hand and stood in the small wooden framed square. All around people were placing bets and shouting as the announcer called, “And now! Lords, ladies and town folk, allow me to introduce Connan! The only undefeated champion of our fair town!” Cheers rose from all sides of the market place as Connan shook his spear determinedly. His opponent shuddered and shrank in fear. “And his opponent in the last round of this month’s fights, from the northern tribes of Haydon, Veron!” Polite applause was offered to the small thin man holding a short sword made of bronze whose small black eyes darted from side to side as if looking for a way out.
The bell rang and Connan advanced. Veron dogged away and headed straight to the nearest corner. Crouching low, he held his sword out in a shaking fist and gritted his teeth. Connan approached slowly, taking his time. This match would be easy. He walked right up to Veron who slowly looked up to meet his gaze. His entire body was shaking in fear as Connan raised his spear. With a swift rap on the knuckles, the sword fell from his grasp and clattered to the ground. The bell rang again and Connan walked away in disgust. “Our victor and once again champion, Connan!” Wild cheers echoed around the square as Veron quietly slipped away, too embarrassed to show his face. Connan roared above the crowd, “That was no fight! I want a proper duel! Is anyone there worthy of challenging me? Speak!” The crowd fell silent and no-one dared to reply.
“I’ll fight you.” A quiet voice came from the far side of the square. A tall man, a metre eighty or so, dressed in a black cloak walked slowly towards the ring. He was young, though only his features betrayed him. His manner was calm and cool and his blue eyes shone from under his strong brow. “He can’t be a day over 14!” whispered a woman in the crowd. “He’ll be killed!” said another. “Don’t be a fool!” shouted a man from the back. The strange boy smiled and said nothing. He got into the ring and took off his cloak and laid it down over edge of the wooden rails. He was thin and had not yet put on the muscle of later years. He looked no more than a child. The referee asked in an undertone, “Are you sure you want to do this boy?” The young face looked him in the eyes and replied so that everyone could hear, “Of course! Providing naturally that Connan here uses a sword. A spear is a child’s weapon!” he scorned. Connan frowned and the crowd gasped. He was renowned for his swordsmanship in the town and had only been using a spear as a request from the northern team.
He spat loudly and threw the spear down. Turning, he drew a long thick blade of iron which shone in the late afternoon sunlight. The hilt was arranged with emerald threads and the sparkle of two rubies could be seen from across the square. “He had that made in the far south. By the great Lord Han himself so I am told,” boasted a merchant to all who would listen. “The blade is folded over on itself time and time again making it tempered in such a way that it becomes impossible to break. I’ve seen it done, but the process takes many weeks.” Connan smiled and waved the sword in front of him. Turning it this way and that he completed the ritual and stood ready in an offensive stance, sword held high.
The boy turned back to his cape and drew his weapon. A medium length sword made of solid elm. Connan laughed loudly, “It is in the rules that you must have a proper weapon when you compete!” But the boy didn’t falter. Taking a blue silk handkerchief from a pocket in his waistcoat, he threw it delicately into the air and let it fall on the blade of wood. It severed at once and each half fluttered to the ground before bursting into flame and vanishing from sight. The crowd gasped and Connan took a step backward nervously. “Do not mock Erudious,” he said calmly and whirled it around his head before resting in a defensive stance, sword held behind, body side on. Connan blinked and regained his composure. He waited until the bell rang and then leapt at his foe.
The boy moved swiftly and smoothly to meet Connan’s strike. Slicing in two sweeps, he took the sword from Connan’s hand and sliced at his head. Blonde locks of hair fell onto the ring. “You aren’t very fast are you?” he jeered. Connan, shocked by the speed of the boy, reached for his head. Feeling his new hair style, he growled and grabbed his sword before leaping at the boy. The battle had begun. Connan twisted this way and that, throwing attack after attack at the boy who countered them all effortlessly moving slowly around and turning his head just enough to miss a sliding downward sweep. Erudious met the sword stroke for stroke and blue sparks flew when the blades met. Connan stepped back and breathed heavily. The boy stood where he was, sword held out completely calm.
“Is that the best you can do?” he asked. Connan growled and threw himself forward. But to no avail. The boy caught the stroke against the wooden sword and for a second or two; the fighters looked at one another in the eyes. The boy’s blue eyes appeared on fire and he smiled before winking one of them. A blinding flash of blue threw Connan back solidly through the wooden rails. He landed heavily on the dusty ground and the crowd fell silent. The boy was walking slowly towards the unmoving form, Erudious held to the side. Connan’s blade lay shattered on the ring floor and he crushed the metal shards underfoot as he advanced.