My Nanowrimo Novel - Vahnatai stuff!
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Nuke and Pave
Member # 24
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written Thursday, November 3 2005 09:52
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You are planning to write this much every day for the next month? :eek: I guess that's how the writers who put out several books a year work, but it's still a surprizing speed. And you did a good job of making it sound like a real holy book. (Maybe even too much like a certain real holy book. :) ) [ Thursday, November 03, 2005 09:53: Message edited by: Zeviz ] -------------------- Be careful with a word, as you would with a sword, For it too has the power to kill. However well placed word, unlike a well placed sword, Can also have the power to heal. Posts: 2649 | Registered: Wednesday, October 3 2001 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 2984
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written Friday, November 4 2005 02:37
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Gah. I'm behind... need to write 2000 words today to even get back into the schedule, and that's cutting it very close. Ouchies... On the plus side, this means you'll probably see the next installment tonight. There's only so much filler you can put in a chapter, so it ought to be done with another 2k words. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 2984
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written Saturday, November 5 2005 19:56
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Be prepared for monstrosity. Both in size and in quality. Monstrous. Truly monstrous. Be prepared for a first person perspective. I might change that later, since the story doesn't exactly hinge on it. It helped me write, even though toward the end I wished I could go into third person. Be also prepared for gratuitous and utterly overdone use of Novah. All the words are actually part of the fan canon on Drakey's Demesne, and are also listed here (Novah English), except for the word for "balance", and the word for "bull", which is derived from the deliberately oxymoronic expression "as wholesome as poison" (loosely translated). Now enough with the explanations and on with the crappiness. I. The Hall of Riddles dh'uralom - Bull, utter bull. I stood there on the glittering stone floor, before the ancient wall carving, the closing words of Genesis echoing in my memory, and felt the bitter sting of irony. Knowledge? Prowess? Serenity? When has anything mattered to them in all these years but blind obedience, gruelling work and sleep deprivation? Where is their precious order when I stand here, fighting off nightmares that should never have come upon our world - that they brought? Where is their serenity when they chase me through vertiginous mazes, running from the searing flames that fly on the wind? Where? Forachid, they called it. A test for mind and body. A way for apprentices to prove their learning and experience, to show their worth to society. You do not fail the forachid. Or, at least, you do not live to know your failure. The test itself takes care of that. Stop for a while, to ponder how that reflects on our civilization. We have been dwelling here for many thousand years, raised empires, built vast towers of white marble and citadels of black basalt, temples of gold and cities of crystal, we have learned how to sleep in crystal coffins and thus last through thousands of years, and even how to become crystal ourselves and thus defeat death forever. But the exams our people puts its apprentices through are still the same, as crude, dangerous and deadly as they were when we were a wild race hunting the woods. And if they have adapted to our advances in civilization, it is only in the more refined technology that is now employed to kill those who fail. I did not fare so badly for one so ill prepared, actually. I was more than half-way done already, the terrible beasts of the first part of the test left behind. I will be honest, I am a disaster with a waveblade, and not a disaster for my enemies. I am left-handed, a trait even the existence of which our masters at the academy are apparently incapable of admitting. The swords we get are hard to handle with the left hand, and they are heavy let me tell you. I could barely lift mine when I started my second year and received it, and I'm not even the weakest in my year. Poor Ihvren; I fear he will not return when he enters the test I am now taking. Unless he can run fast. That is what saved me: that and a well-placed throw with that dumb "razor" disk they issued. You couldn't even shave yourself with that stump of a thing, which probably caused the stupid insect rather blunt force trauma than an actual wound. Yes, you heard right; I only got one of those; now it is lodged in the scales of one of these chittering chitin-covered creepy critters, and Zaratis help me if I need another one. Magic? They didn't even teach us any spells for the first three years. It is supposed to be a mage academy, but for some reason they put all the apprentices through the warrior program, to "make them tough". Only two in three survive this toughing process, so it is obviously very efficient. At least they issued us a few spell crystals, and - to my chagrin - a set of carving tools. Do they expect us to craft gemstones in this hellhole? The crystals have proven their value several times, and were it not for the two barrier spells and the piercing crystal I got, I would at this moment be a pile of slowly cooling ash on the floor of the second level. They make us run away from stal'ra, how can you still doubt they are utterly insane? The mazes were, as I might have said before, a nightmare: Shifting walls and illusions make you stray from your path, and tunnels - underground and overhead - enable the speeding flames to outrun you, suddenly shooting out of some hole to engulf you from above or below. It was utter luck, and a hint from my friend who did this a few years ago, that allowed me to find the right path in time, and even then it was only the barrier spell that saved me: Without the time it won me, the fire would surely have overtaken me and reduced me to a powder. And now that I had passed through the portal, which fortunately dropped me here in the next level (Olidra told me there were several fake portals in the second level, which dropped one in random locations within the maze or even in the midst of the fire), I stood here and at last beheld the knowledge part of our test. No more running away and beating growling things with steel: This would take intelligence to solve. My strength - or rather the least of my weaknesses, as far as this test goes. But nonetheless still a weakness, for I found myself completely unable to solve the riddle I was currently facing. The first few were easy: Animated statues asked simple questions in rhyme form. Even though they had changed their riddles since Olidra had passed through (as he had warned me they would), the questions took no genius to answer. It was obvious that the designers of the test had spent the most time designing the third cave, even if the other two were far more gruelling. The questions - even the easy ones - were chosen with care and formulated in a way that combined logic with style, reasoning with well-structured language. They tested our learning of history as much as our knowledge of nature and geography, our abstract reasoning as much as mathematics. One of the easier questions had taken the form of an entire story: * * * "Listen to the tale of the Riddlemasters of Xoroc, who did not see the forest for the trees. "Since the great thinker Canayere had founded the Academy of Mysteries, their life had been one of riddling. They pondered and pondered, seeking to unravel the answer to the final question. The question itself had appeared to the great prophet in a vision that he later recounted thusly: "Closing my eyes, my mind opened to a field of cerulean light. I felt no ground beneath me, no sky above me, and yet I could walk. Oh, the great bliss of striding over the mists! Around me was an azure heaven, yet no sun stood in it to light the world. I walked on. Soon I came to a small hut that stood there in the field. The door opened at my touch, and I entered. But within the hut there was a small cottage, and within the cottage a house, and within the house a mansion, and as each of the doors opened, at last I came into a gigantic palace of golden light. But there, within the hall, lay a large chest. And within the chest there was a barrel, and within the barrel a crate, and within the crate a box, and within the box a package, and within the package a small locket. And I opened the locket, and a tall figure stepped out, looked down and saw me, and uttered these words: "To the dawn's end thou hast come, and where the twilight ends, thus day must shred the veil of grey mist and the last riddles are laid open. Thou wert asleep, but art now awake. The stars have cycled. I feel the tremors as the forgotten ways are renewed. One last question thou shalt take with thee ere thou departest again. "Then she paused. "Myriad are the high places of your world, and there are those deep spaces beneath the roots where no man shall ever tread. Four and four and four again are the millennia since last one descended there and lived, five and five and five again are the millennia until one shall again. Six and six and six again the days she shall stay, seven and seven and seven again the decades she shall wander, eight and eight and eight again the tears she shall shed, nine and nine and nine again the wounds she shall feel, but it is not the end. "I see the future as clearly as the past, but one last riddle remaineth to me. Nine times the sun riseth, and six times the cock croweth on his hill each day, but still she did not answer. She did not hear. But the cock will not cry again, he is dead, and nevermore might she answer then. Still she abideth, though her time groweth short. How often doth the rooster sing before she returneth? "And I awoke. "The culture of Xoroc was drenched in symbolism, and its language in metaphors. Ten and ten and ten again were the centuries through which they pondered, but they did not see the solution. "The Xorocians were great riddlers, but lousy mathematicians. Their minds were built for unraveling hidden meanings, not crunch numbers. That they had six fingers on the right hand, four on the left and three on the middle did not help either." * * * "pil'tah!" I replied, and the statue nodded, and drifted sideways. Turning to point its arm into one of the six passages that opened behind it, it stood still and waited for me to pass. Go figure. Naturally, there was additional security built in to foil cheaters. Someone with a quick blade or powerful spell might have been able to destroy the construct without answering the question, thus hoping to pass unhindered. Great his dismay would have been when he discovered that not one, but six corridors led off into the darkness behind the statue. Without the statue's arm to direct him to the correct passage, he would inevitably (odds of five against one) have taken the wrong passage. The wrong passages, Olidra had assured me, ended in various monstrosities - a stal'ra trap, a bottomless abyss, a pit with skewering spikes, and other such things designed to make the cheating student think twice before trying this in his next life. In the question just posed, of course, it was as much a part of the puzzle to understand the question as it was to calculate the answer. They liked to taunt us with elaborate stories and extraneous information, wrapping the core problem in a whole mess of trivialities. You got used to that, though: Picking up the essential information from the superfluous rest. They called this "realistic". Let me stop for a moment there to ask: Exactly when in my later life, realistically spoken, will I happen to enter a cave where animated statues ask me riddles that I must answer to pass through? Whoever was in charge of making up the questions appeared to be waxing poetic, because the next question was equally formed. * * * Now the first of the races of Kerran were born of Stone, and they were the Lúk. What came before them, nobody knows, for they were the ones who first took hammer and chisel to carve their knowledge into stone and preserve it forever. They tell us of the First that passed long before them, of the great battles of the Winds, and of the ancient first beings of Light that they name Khae'rah, or Gods. The Gods first taught the Lúk to mine the stone, to hunt the beasts, to build and to battle. And the Lúk carved from the bedrock of Kerran vast cavernous cities, infinite galleries and mineshafts that stretched to the roots of time itself. They hunted for food when they were above ground, and in honor of the Gods that had taught them, they first constructed huge stone halls of worship, secondly golden temple domes and finally towering citadels. But they battled amongst themselves, and fell to their own weakness - their second error. Of their works, not even their stone writings remain. They themselves are destroyed; they are no more. * * * "What?!" I cried out to the statue, but the statue did not move nor speak. It had said what it was going to say, and was waiting for my response. "But there was not even a question in all of that!" There was an astonishing degree of descriptions however. And repetitions. How often did it say le - "first"? By stepping backwards just out of the room, and then in again, I was able to trigger the statue to repeat the riddle. It said "first" six times, and "stone" five times. Vague style aside, there was quite possibly a code. I just needed some time to dwell on it. le Mehd, le mehd, le ieb, le ka, le mehd, le mehd. Savihv tah, savihv tah. Mehd. If the task was to complete the pattern, then was the answer "stone" again? Stone always occurred twice in a row... but the text said: "They are no more." No more stone. Six times first, two times second. Four parts stone to one part wind to one part light. Two parts gold. I was getting nowhere. Their own weakness… their second error. It made no mention of a first error! Or did it? What came before them, nobody knows… they tell us of the First, who passed long before them. A contradiction! Taught to mine, to hunt, to build and to battle. They battled amongst themselves, and fell to their own weakness. The first error had been the gods themselves, for they were what came before that nobody knew of. The second error had been what the gods had done – namely to teach the Lúk to battle, thus causing their downfall. And suddenly, I realized the third error in the tale: The stone writings. If their writings are the only thing that supposedly told of them, then how did anyone know their history in the first place? But then what was the answer? I said “stone writing!” but the statue did not move. “Third error!”, but there was no reaction to that either. But wait... if we did not know what came before the Lúk... and all knowledge about the Lúk themselves was in their writing, and that had been destroyed as well – then what remained in the tale? "Tam!" And the statue stepped aside and pointed the way. I muttered a brief, but very colorful oath as I went. Whoever had made this up needed a serious lesson in riddlemaking. --- The questions continued in this way for some time, until I grew aware of a sudden change in decor. It was not so much a decline or an improvement, just a noticeable difference in style that seemed to suggest one thing to me: They'd hired a new guy for the design. The change in the riddles was just as abrupt. I had just solved a letter puzzle resulting in the answer "I want to leave this bloody hellhole right now!" (at least that designer had a sense of humor, albeit a very nasty one), and entered the passage the statue indicated. The cave I stepped into was a single cubical cell, and had no doors nor windows; it was lit by a soft glow coming from the floor. When the doors clanged shut behind me and I realized I was trapped, there was a terrible moment for which I wildly thought I had entered the wrong passage. Had I misread the statue's arm, which pointed more to the right? Had my solution been wrong, so that it had pointed me into a wrong direction? They were not supposed to react to incorrect replies. Was I about to suffer some terrible fate in this tiny cell? That was when the ceiling began to lower. I didn't notice at first. Our reflexes are trained to watch for sudden movements, not inexorably lowering ceilings about to turn us into doormats. But then I realized there was definitely a hair-thin gap between the ceiling and the walls, and the ceiling seemed to be closer than it had been seconds earlier. About to make peace with the world, I spotted an odd-looking crystal set into the stone in the far wall. It was glowing green, and practically begging me to fiddle with it. Given that I had not many options left, I walked over to touch it. Whereupon it sank into the wall, to be replaced by a widening crack. The door slid open halfway, then closed again. Another crystal was set into the opposite wall, and it was colored a fiery red. I pressed it, and another door slid open halfway, and closed again. The ceiling was by now so low that I had to crouch. However, the pressing of this crystal had the effect that two more gemstones appeared in the remaining two walls: One of them a sapphire, the other a clear diamond. As I took in the new situation, it dawned upon me that I was not facing a deathtrap for a wrong reply, but the next riddle. And as soon as that revelation came, I also knew the solution. Separately, the stones carried little meaning; they were not usually used to hold spells, because they were far too rare, although some spells required them as a focussing reagent. Together, however, they symbolized the four elements - an outdated system that magic was nonetheless still categorized by. The elements had a distinct order: Wind before Earth, the cardinal elements. Then Fire before Water, the transitional elements, that inspired movement and change. I pressed the stones in turn, and knew I had hit the right answer when a clicking mechanism whirred to life beneath me. Four doors opened at once, and the floor darkened except for an irregular area I did not recognize at once. Turning my head, however, I read the runic symbol for ieb. Wind. I turned to face the wall where the sapphire had been and crawled out to avoid the ceiling, which was even now mere feet above the ground. Rehlko help the slow of wit in that chamber - I had made it out with luck alone. And as my heartbeat slowly calmed down again, leaving only a sick feeling in my stomach, I reflected on the nature of this puzzle. It wasn't that it was a particularly hard puzzle. It was the pure, undiluted evil of combining it with a deathtrap like this. Locking a student in a cave while he calculates arithmetic in base thirteen is one thing. Having a student remember the correct sequence of the four elements with the alternative of being forcefully projected onto the second dimension was an entirely different one. It reflected a certain mindset. And, as I considered a bit more, I wasn't sure I was happy with the idea of someone with this mindset orchestrating my exam. Wait, actually you should make that: I was very, very sure I wasn't. There was little enough to be done about it however, and the riddles continued in this vein. At one point, the idea was to calculate the period and phase of several huge axes swinging from the ceiling to find a safe time to cross. At another, it was to redirect beams of coherent light that would cut right through you if you moved the mirrors the wrong way. Olidra had never told me about any of this, and nor had anyone else: Had this "special" maze been installed only in recent years? After what must have been dozens of these riddles / death traps - with the occasional stal'ra' trigger to keep me on my toes and hurry me along to the next room, I had arrived here - that is, at the place of the mysterious wall carving I was now standing in front of. The door to the vast hall had been marked with the runes "to'ot" and true enough: As I walked through glittering hall, an invisible shade began to recite the story of our Creation in a whispering voice that nonetheless filled the room. The Silence, the arrival of motion, then the first fall of Order in the battle of the Principles. Then the night of stagnation and entropy, then the dawn of Olm and the dispute between Rehlko, Jahrnai and Zaratis. The conflict of simplicity and complexity. The Conception of the People. The shade had recited in a monotonous voice, and when it was done, it was silent. The long monologue alone was surprising, because that much explanation was out of character for the test. True, there had been long and elaborate riddles before, filled with information I would need or not need, and additional tracks to distract the student. But the designer of this particular part of the maze appeared to adhere to a different philosophy: Confuse not with words, but with silence. Not only was it difficult to realize what the riddle actually was, but the intention of the designer had been frequently unclear as well. In these situations it was a little hard to decide whether he was in fact asking you to solve a problem, or just trying to bump you off in a horrible way. Take that ceiling press for instance. All the more strange, then, for this mysterious riddle master to decide that in order to solve the riddle, the student would need to hear or remember an entire chapter from the vah'llom'on, our holy book. What was in this text anyway? A whole lot of vague symbolism, garbled metaphors, and that ridiculous self aggrandizement that our people seems to be so fond of. But I was hesitant to dismiss the clue out of hand. That ridiculous story about the "Lúk" had taught me that a text could have not one, but dozens of meanings. The wall carving, too, must be significant. It was too bad I could for the life of me not figure out what it was. Highly abstract, to be sure, more a symbol than a picture, but far too complex to be one of the many runes I had not yet learned to read. There was something familiar about a part of the carving, however – I had seen it before, although I did not remember at once where it had been. At that point, I grew aware of the glittering light below my feet. There were several lamps shining down from above, and when I walked, I could see a thousand pinpoints of reflected rainbow light shifting on the floor. I knelt down to touch the stone floor. Dust! Dust of crystal and rare gemstones and diamond, strewn all over the hall, was what caused the iridescent glitter! And as I looked again at the desks that looked rather like workbenches, I realized I was standing in a Hall of Crafting, a room for carving the ever-present crystals our people used for magic, for building and jewellery. The meaning of the carving at once fell into place. I had seen others quite like this back at the academy, in the rooms dedicated to crystal shaping. The task was clear – they had given me the tools for carving, they had led me into a shaping hall, and now they expected me to cut gemstones. What a pity there were none. I’d swear that lever hadn’t been there before, but it was more likely that after the nearly eighteen hours I had spent in this horrid cave, my attention span and vision were going to hell. But it was there in the wall, and practically inviting me to pull it. Figuring that I had left behind the riddles whose designer seemed to be testing only one thing, namely the unwitting subject’s level of paranoia, it was probably safe to pull, too. So I pulled it. With a soft chime like that of a silver bell, a hole in the wall opened and a rather hefty crystal dropped out, one that with some effort I could hold in one hand. At the same time, a claw-like appendage extended from the wall like an expectant tongue. This was probably where the finished crystal went. And as I felt the sharp edges and the rough surfaces waiting to be smoothed, as I walked away from the wall toward one of the many workbenches, I suddenly got hit by a cold feeling. I had no idea what I was doing. When it came to carving, I was in far over my head, and in ice-cold water. It was true; I was in my fifth year at the Academy of Orithan, and as such should have been as adept at crafting as at magic, but my curiosity was my downfall. The story the shade just recited mentioned my People’s inbred curiosity in passing, but that is really an understatement where I am concerned. I cannot see a library without feeling a burning desire to read all its contents before I leave again, and though it took me a thousand years. I cannot see a cave entrance without at least wishing to enter it to see how far it goes (well, usually – as I said before, I am a disaster waiting to happen when it comes to combat.) It allowed me to get to the top of the class in all the magical courses. The problem is that crystal carving is a lot less interesting than it looks. It has less to do with actual theoretical knowledge than with tons and tons of practice and experience. You need calm, dextrous fingers and a near infinite supply of crystal to gain this practice, and it is a very introverted exercise. You have to calm your own breathing, reach a state of utter inner balance and face your inner self if you want to craft truly fine stones. Meditating in such a way is a novel perspective and a unique experience, but in fact it becomes a rather boring state of mind once you have done it a few times. I was and am more interested in learning than in meditating, and I do not doubt that this has caused me to stay rather behind when it came to the skill of crafting. I knew the theory, and I knew what cuts to make, but I am far too unskilled to actually make them with surety. And the fact of the matter was, of course, I had no idea what to actually make from the crystal. There are not just two or three, but dozens, even hundreds, of ways to cut even a singly kind. To do something at random and then assume it is what was asked was not just foolish, but dangerous as far as this test was concerned. I cast my gaze around, and it landed once again on the far wall, where the ominous symbol remained. Those practicing the high art of shaping use their own runes and symbols and terminology: To distinguish different materials, molecular structure, colour, shape, ways of cutting, magical properties, elemental alignments, even the tools used for carving. These sign commonly interlocked when used together. Forming elaborate, complex structures that could be mistaken for a single symbol. This was one such symbol, or rather a combination of several symbols. I just needed to remember what its components meant. The ignoble thing about this challenge was that it was not my lack of skill that impeded me, but rather my lack of theoretical knowledge. I, of all, should have memorized these symbols long before I learned to produce what they specified. Instead I sat here and had to rummage through my memory to remember where I had seen the symbol before and what it meant. One part of it meant "fire". That was the bit I recognized - it was emblazoned on the robes of Master Rabon-Ka, whose name meant "the patient flame", and I have never seen a name so inapt to a person. He was our teacher in shaping, and among the most impatient - even dreaded - teachers that ever graced Nalax. To disappoint him was to court trouble, to cross him to invite disaster. He wore red robes that accentuated his pale grey skin, and a chain with a deep red ruby pendant that pulsed as with an inner life. We sometimes made a joke of scaring the first-years by telling them that Rabon-Ka absorbed the souls of disorderly and slow students and imprisoned them in the crystal on his neck, there to remain for eternity. It was meant as a joke, but it was a joke you only laughed about until you turned around and saw him behind you: His face staring with an unreadable expression, his deep black eyes piercing you to the very bone and reading your mind as if he knew exactly who you had just laughed about. One look at that face and no amount of reassurance could convince you that the bit about the absorbed souls was just made up. Another part was "barrier". I remember that well because it was always used together with "breaking/piercing" in the inscription on the pouches that piercing crystals - kaf'tark - were placed in. We went through quite a lot of those, not least because a number of the more dangerous laboratories were closed off with magical barriers that resealed themselves in regular intervals. Apparently it is easier to make all the students carry a number of piercing crystals than have manual mechanisms in place to deactivate the barriers, although why this should be so I cannot say. So we had two symbols, fire and barrier, but what the third one was I had absolutely no idea. It consisted of a single line looping in upon itself, to form a symmetrical shape. I had never seen it inside the academy, nor anywhere else. Unless… Yes, there was a somewhat similar sign that I knew from elsewhere. A symbol usually depicted above temple doors… signifying what? It had to be Order in the context, nothing else would have made sense. But this symbol was very obviously different, and it was usually folly to assume that a slight similarity in appearance implied any relation in the meaning. The Genesis story had to provide some kind of clue, here. I went through it in my head again: whisper in the void… the spirit of creation… Rehlko's diamond and Dahrnai's worm… Zaratis' living crystal that sparkled and glittered like the night sky was--- I looked upon the floor again. What had the three gods argued about? Was it truly Order that had been their highest goal? Had it not rather been a balance between change and stability, between chaos and stagnation? Balance… that word was extremely similar to that of order. Bit was order, jel was Chaos, bel was Balance. Folly, I reminded myself. But what if my instinct was right, against the odds? My finger traced the mysterious third symbol in the carving, stopping in all of the four loops in turn. A perfectly symmetrical symbol. An endless cycle. bit and jel make bel… I decided to take the chance. Easier said than done. --- Shaping a crystal - done correctly - resembles a ritual more than a craft. It begins with the ordering of the tools. The tiny chisels were spread out in neat order to my left, the blades to my right: first the folded steel knives in increasing order, then the mithral saws with their diamond teeth too fine to see with the naked eye. More than one hammer is used in the process - a larger, flat-headed one for the basic structure, then a very heavy but tiny one for the finer edges, finally one that is lighter than the chisel itself, used with no more force than a light tap to smooth the edges. The saw is used only in the beginning; later on it would ruin the fine surfaces and possibly even shatter the material. The polishing, finally, is the process that takes the most delicate work - first, because if this step goes wrong, the entire work has been wasted, second because it is during this process that the crystal is also imbued with the magic it will later store. A tiny deviation, and the magical forces in the crystal matrix are unbalanced and fragile. A smaller magical effect might fizzle and disappear, or last much shorter than it should; a more powerful enchantment might cause a dangerous release of energy, possibly even an explosion. Fortunately, it was no superhuman project I was attempting. Just a simple fire barrier stabilizer - a crystal designed to attune to the arcane field of a barrier spell, and reinforce it, thus making the effect last longer and be more resistant against attempts to dispel it. The crystal itself would hold little energy and enchantment; its structure was more important than the imbuing process. If the structure did not match the field of the barrier, it would be unable to balance it, or worse, might even disrupt it entirely just by its presence. --- The crystal was lying before me, already shining in spite of being as yet unpolished. It was beginning to take shape under my hands, a perfect representation of my intentions, my ambitions; my very spirit felt like it was entering the crystal and watching the carving process from within. One sharp corner was jutting out like a needle, my fingertips clearly felt its sting moving over it. A cut with the tiny knife… there was an itching sensation at the back of my neck, and I shuddered involuntarily. The knife slipped, and there was a musical tinkling sound, almost pleasant to the ear. I sighed, swept the ruined shards off the workbench and went back to the wall to get another crystal. It was not the first time. --- It felt like an eternity had passed when I finally rose from the wooden seat and felt circulation return to my lower limbs. The crystal was sitting there on the work bench, shimmering innocently in the light, as if it had not in fact just cost me several hours and years of my life to fashion it. What enchantment there was upon it was barely detectably by my senses - but they were admittedly dulled by the long work and the strain of concentration, even compared to their normally weak state. What remained was the testing. I could cast a barrier spell without much trouble, so I raised a circular wall above one of the other workbenches and approached it with the crystal in my hand. It took some time to find the optimal spot, but it was obvious once I was approaching it: The crystal started vibrating and humming in a low tone as it resonated with the field, and the field itself seemed to grow more substantial as the crystal stabilized it. If the crystal worked, it would now resist a weak dispelling attempt - one that would normally obliterate my barrier. I raised my hand to dispel it, taking care to use as little force as I could: I did not entirely trust my own craftsmanship, truth be told. The spell failed to even touch the barrier, but was instead reflected off. I gradually increased the power, but the stabilizer held up even against my full strength - not much with this spell. I decided against using the piercing crystal I had left; too much force could shatter the stabilizer along with the barrier. Instead I went back to the wall and inserted the crystal into the claw that was still waiting. It reacted to the pressure and retracted, my crystal vanishing inside the wall as the machine evidently moved it off to do its own tests on them. --- For a single moment, a sick feeling rose to my stomach. What if there was an instability that became apparent at higher power? Or the crystal was incompatible with fire barriers other than my own - field structures often varied between mages? Or - horror - I had read the symbols wrongly, and it was not a fire barrier stabilizer that the machine had wanted? Would it test my stone for stopping [i]stal'ra[i]? Would it attempt to pierce a barrier with it? Or use it as a soul crystal? The taste of fear, having grown stale after leaving the riddle mazes, was back in my mouth again. Then there was a grinding sound as of heavy machinery gearing into motion, and a set of imposing double doors of steel swung outward, opening the view to a twilit forest glade. I could not tell at once if it was dawn or dusk, but my sense of direction did not abandon me for long. The sun stood in the east, a little higher than it had when I had entered this place, preparing to light a new day. I had been in there more than twenty-four hours. With that realization, and suppressing the overpowering urge to yawn, I stepped out into the forest, letting the cold morning wind blow over my face. It would be a long way back home. ------------------------------------- Words: 'piltah' - Fourty-two (couldn't resist, no) 'stalra' - Quickfire 'ieb' - Wind 'mehd' - Stone 'le' - first 'savihv' - gold 'ka' - light 'tam' - nothing/empty/nobody Please don't bother with elaborate criticism right now, constructive or destructive. If it's the former, I can't edit the text anyway (no time), and if it's the latter, you can tell me to go beat it and take my mess with me in just so many words. ;) [ Sunday, November 13, 2005 14:57: Message edited by: NaNoWriMo ] -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Master
Member # 5977
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written Sunday, November 6 2005 00:22
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Jesus bok, I gues you have nothing else to do? And, with monstrosity of quality, do you mean really bad or really good? -------------------- Play and rate my scenarios: Where the rivers meet View my upcoming scenario: The Nephil Search: Escape. Give us your drek! Posts: 3029 | Registered: Saturday, June 18 2005 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 6 2005 01:31
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Really bad, and if you had read the text, you would know. :P -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Master
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written Sunday, November 6 2005 02:26
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You got me there :P Its, too long for me to have the patience to read it all, sorry. -------------------- Play and rate my scenarios: Where the rivers meet View my upcoming scenario: The Nephil Search: Escape. Give us your drek! Posts: 3029 | Registered: Saturday, June 18 2005 07:00 |
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Cartographer
Member # 1851
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written Sunday, November 6 2005 03:42
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I'm actually going to read it when it's done, but for now I'm just trying to catch you up. Nearly did that before, but I got lost and couldn't find my Zone. You will put it _all_ up, right? *looks sternly at Aran* -------------------- "I'm not crazy!" "Well, whatever. Maybe you just ate something really questionable, or perhaps someone hit you on the head with something large, blunt and heavy just now. By the way..." Gil nudged Grul pointedly. Ooh! Homepage - Blog - Geneforge, +2, +3 - My Elfwood Gallery and DevArt page So many strange ones around. Don't you think? Posts: 1308 | Registered: Sunday, September 8 2002 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 1993
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written Sunday, November 6 2005 05:50
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:) Interesting. I feel as if I have played a new scenario. quote:I'm not sure whether this should be flattering or slightly insulting. But the participation in NaNoWriMo is a deed of great honour and distinction, AFAIK. -------------------- Slartucker: * facepalm facepalm facepalm * Dikiyoba: Are you unconscious yet? Posts: 1420 | Registered: Wednesday, October 2 2002 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 6 2005 07:19
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quote:Unlike last year's, yes. My downfall - because I didn't post it anywhere, I didn't have any kind of standard to adhere to, so it came out even worse trash than this. This time, I'm posting it as I finish the chapters. Good luck with your writing! I hope you'll translate it afterwards, because I'm not likely to learn Finnish any time soon. :-/ And spy, perhaps if it succeeds I might make a scenario based on it. I suck at the editor though. [ Sunday, November 06, 2005 07:24: Message edited by: NaNoWriMo ] -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Tuesday, November 8 2005 01:44
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Around 4000 words behind, but there's still a chance. I just need a day or so of constant writing to catch up... Well, if all goes well, you'll see the next chapter today or tomorrow. Edit: 1000 done today, 3000 to go. Even if I only make 2k in total, I'll have caught up a bit. [ Tuesday, November 08, 2005 13:21: Message edited by: NaNoWriMo ] -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 2984
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written Tuesday, November 8 2005 15:04
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Argh. Tired. This might actually be the best of them yet, since I was too exhausted to try any padding of the text. That would have to come later. ^_^ II. The Sapphire City The buildings were not actually made of sapphire. Instead, they were plated with crystals from a distinctly sky-blue mineral that looked similar to sapphire, but was far less rare. Even at the height of its power, the Vahnatai had not the abundance of wealth (or the decadence) that would have allowed them to use actual gems as a building material - not when these gemstones were infinitely more essential in their use as a magic catalyst. Regardless of the less luxurious material, the shining crystal lent the entire city a mysterious and lofty air, and its deep blue roofs, mirroring the sky above, shimmered softly in the late morning sun. The city of Avtris was situated in a shallow valley, as was common for the Vahnatai - with little to fear from in the way of attacks, the better protection of high ground was less important than the greater availability of water in the lower plains. Water was essential, to life, industry and magic; and since water was rarely found above ground in sufficient amounts, the cities were built in such a way as to allow for a vast array of subterranean pumps and wells to bring the precious substance to where it was needed. Avtris, in particular, lay many hundreds of miles land inward, and many miles from any river. When one approached the city, one invariably did so from above - descending one of the three main roads that led to it from the North, the Southwest and the South, or across the open plain, sloping down from the forested wilderness. From all directions, the high ground offered the arriving traveller a magnificent view of the sapphire city and its azure roofs, glinting in the sun and reflecting the light - depending on where one came from and at what time of day, the reflection could cast brilliant rays of sunlight into ones eyes, forcing the travellers to avert their faces as if from a mysterious apparition: A city formed of blinding light, a beacon in the valley that mortals could not bear to look upon. But it was morning, and the sun had just risen over the hilltops to the east, sending radiant light around the tall figure in a foreboding silhouette, almost resembling a halo. From here, the city was lit in a splendid light directly from behind, eliminating even the tiniest shadows and filling every roof, courtyard and narrow alleyway. The tall, dark shadow stood upon a shallow precipice above the city, and was about to climb the steep trail that led down to the eastern gate. But for now, he was just enjoying the view. Aidra - for he was the shadowy silhouette upon the precipice - yawned again. He had not rested since the test, but had walked straight on, travelling the whole twenty or so miles that separated the testing caves from the city. He was now close to thirty-six hours without sleep; a gruelling hardship even for one of the Vahnatai, who could stay awake for days if they needed to. The entrance to the ''forachid'' was hidden deep in the wilderness, and according to tradition, the students had to find this way alone. They set out from the city at dawn, they were awaited for three days, and if they did not arrive on the dawn of the fourth, they were declared missing and their test failed. They would not return - almost all of the survivors passed; the rest were lost to one of its many dangers. They would occasionally send a small group to investigate the caves and the road that led to it, in order to pick up anyone who miraculously survived but was too injured to return. Invariably, such a one would have failed his or her test: but they would have escaped with their lives, which was definitely something. Against all the odds, Aidra had returned. He felt like a wraith as he stood there, a hraithe, a night haunt come back to avenge himself upon the living, for it was as if he had died a thousand times down below. But the sun shone on his back, and through his red cloak he felt the warmth of the diurnal aster pleasantly upon his skin, a welcome relief after the cold, dark tunnels. No, he realized, he was very much alive. The lethargic unlife he was feeling in his bones was merely exhaustion; it would pass with a good night's sleep the kind of which he had not truly had for at least four months. The city below him was already, quickly, growing into a busy hive of activity. People milled about, robes in all kinds of shades indicating different professions, farmers leaving the town for their fields, traders already selling their wares at the market square, and the academy Aidra had dwelt in for the last five years, towering above the other buildings and dominating the entire town, was coming alive. A bell rung the first hour of the day - the first after sunrise, that is - and the classes had already started as Aidra could see. Not for him. It was a barely believable feeling. After five years, he was finally out of this mess. There would be no more classes for him, no more gruelling tasks and errand running for the teachers, and Rabon-Ka and his like would hold no fear for him any more. He would himself be a mage and attach a Ka to his name, and he would decide what tasks to do and what books to read and what things to research. Only one thing remained: He would need to return to the school for a single time to receive his assessment and his degree - a shining blue stone cut in the shape of a mandrake and engraved with his and the name of the school, and the year he had graduated. The assessment itself was trivial - someone who had gone through the forachid, lived through the challenges and returned by his own power could be sure of a passing grade, and the passing grade was all that mattered. After that, he would be independent, able to practice magic on his own, and in a few decades or centuries, when he had gained experience and power, nobody would ever care how he had graduated from the mage college, or with what grade. With that thought, he cast a final glance over the glittering roofs of Avtris, and then began his slow descent. --- The city was as busy as ever by the time he reached the gate. It was market day, and the city of Avtris was the largest Vahnatai settlement for a long distance around: Farmers and craftsmen had travelled from all over the area to peddle their wares and buy new tools - mainly new farming implements, gem-cutting precision tools and mining equipment, for it was its metal industry that Avtris was most famous for. That, and the souvenirs. Tourism was not too common among the People, but it existed, and whole areas of the great forum were devoted to those wealthy travellers who had come far seeking for entertainment and souvenirs. The majority of these pieces were, of course, jewels and crystals of widely varying value, some of it cheap glass cuttings more or less crudely painted to resemble the skyline of the famed Sapphire City, ranging up to actual miniature replicas made from single sapphires, and intricately faceted and polished diamond ornaments hued sky blue. A little beyond, another enterprising souvenir trader was selling "authentic rejuvenation rubies", whose "internal seventh harmonic vibrations coincided with the wavelength of its reflected light and the structured aura of its pristine matrix incorporating the unending vigour of the fiery element" to grant its wearer a youthful appearance and physique even in the high age of many centuries. Despite his lack of credibility and his untrustworthy look, the vendor was making excellent business. The Vahnatai might have long lives indeed, but they did not age terribly well. The grey skin, already quite dry by nature, would get hard and brittle, as would their bones, and by their sixth century, they were hard pressed when trying to move unaided, if they were still alive. Save for the wizards, of course, who were not without their powers. Next to the tourist traps were the aforementioned metalworkers. Avtris sat directly above an amazing natural deposit of coal, which was otherwise harder to come by than most crystal minerals. Consequentially, the makers of steel weaponry had the greatest part of the square for themselves: Steel waveblades and razordisks were in the display of most of the stalls. Some of the smiths even counted on the entertainment value of their craft, and had set up a small forge furnace in the middle of the square, beating the glowing steel till it formed into blades. Steel, in that time, was the strongest metal available to the People. Mithril, mined deep beneath the ground, had not yet been discovered, let alone mined or smelted. Short of relying on the relatively new and far more expensive ways of using harder, non-metallic materials - like adamant or diamond - whenever one wanted the best and strongest variety of a weapon or tool, one went to the steelsmith. This partly explained the wealth of the Sapphire City, and why it was such a prestigious place for a famed magical academy. (Though truth be told, it had been the city that had formed around the academy, not the other way around: the coal deposit was discovered long after the school had already been founded). Entertainers were also present: Jugglers competed to hold up to half a dozen specially sharpened razor disks in the air witout injuring themselves. Skilled warriors, who were broke and in need of a stay at the local inn would stage mock fights with each other for money. Aidra, who had seen only the clumsy combating style of himself and his fellow students - and yes, even his masters, who were no match for the professionals who didn't teach - felt immediately inadequate, not merely because hie himself had no skill at all with the waveblade. At the same time, he felt engrossed in the movements that looked considerably more like some kind of graceful dance than a combat technique designed to kill. A lethal dance, it was true, but a graceful one. Oft times, the blademasters would deliberately come close to one another with their weapons, the amazed onlookers practically feeling the wind of the stroke as if it were their own throat it passed by - yet there was no blood, and there would not be: The Vahnatai swiftblades were far too skilled to draw blood when they did not will it. Others could be seen making stunning shows of light, illusion and noise with their magic. The academy granted its fourth year students leave to visit the city on every other market day, and they were permitted to use the powers and knowledge they had already acquired. Invariably, since there were no other talents they had a use for, this would entail throwing colourful sparks through the air in the hopes of attracting attention and making some money off the impressed tourists. Of course, there were varying degrees to the qualities of these shows as well: Some of the apprentices had banded together and formed whole show programs, carefully choreographed illusions and entertaining fireworks. These carefully rehearsed performances were excellently conducted, and acted out with so much experience that it seemed as if the apprentices were in fact professional charlatans rather than adept mages. The money they earned was swiftly spent again: Not on frivolous things, foodstuffs or baubles the kind of which the tourists were rapidly buying up, nor the taverns. The mages in training needed to finance their own education, stocking up again on various reagents, plant ingredients for alchemical compounds, raw crystals, spell books and of course various tools and magical foci. As Aidra recalled - not without some bitterness, but also with a kind of bitter glee now that he was free of it himself - the apprentices were required to supply all of the teaching materials themselves, down to the last book and down to the last crystal. In the face of this, it was amazing that the tuition itself was still free… until Aidra also recalled that well over half of the magical supplies stores in Avtris belonged - directly or indirectly - to the Academy, and the materials that they sold frequently included products manufactured by the students themselves. Aidra estimated that four fifths of the piercing crystals that the first years used in elementary classes was bought from the Academy itself, and thus the product of the fourth year's enchantment class. Whose students had in turn bought their carved, "blank" and non-enchanted crystals from the Academy stores, which had had them carved by its second year crystal crafting class. These students had bought the raw stones, once again, from the Academy, which had thus sold and resold the students their own products several times down the production line. Matters such as these were rarely brought to public attention, and although most of the students knew what kind of deal they were getting, they did not complain - the tuition was still free, and it was highly effective. And whenever wind was caught of some of the fifth years once again privately bootlegging Piercing Crystals on their own time, in order to sell them to the first-year students at vastly undercut prices, a blind eye was turned - the losses were far too slim to outweigh the overall benefit of a competitive market, besides, the privately sold crystals were commonly of lower quality than those sold by the academy stores. And indeed, beyond the performing mages, turning around a corner to the less-visited parts of the square, Aidra quickly arrived at the small niche where the apprentices sold unlicensed magical supplies - everything from self-harvested toadstools, to potions brewed in the sparse free time that remained to them during their academic year, to the aforementioned piercing crystals. Here, too, the paths were divided: With his experienced eye - having spent many days both selling and buying these products in exactly this place over the last five years - Aidra could tell almost at a glance which of the enterprising apprentices were offering a good deal and which ones to avoid like the plague. Many of the vendors were experts, the ones whose products were normally resold by the Academy. Others were inept or sloppy. Some where just desperate for money, and some were quite clearly without scruples. Take that one guy over there in the shadows, for example… the one peddling mandrake roots. He seems curiously unaware how to correctly handle the plant he claims to be selling. If he had the real thing, his rough handling and the lack of moist soil to keep it fresh would have rendered it useless already - but as it is, the rusty colouring of the outer skin betrays the rather more common burb root. Heaven help the poor sod who tries to brew his potions with that… as if by accident, Aidra jostled a younger student in passing who he saw was just about to buy. When the student turned to face him, Aidra almost imperceptibly shook his head as he looked at the fraudulent mandrake seller. She took the hint, nodded briefly and moved on. Give it to her, she has some experience at least, even if she doesn't have an eye for the common deceptions yet, Aidra commented. Perhaps she got burnt before. The first-years quickly learned to trust the advice of the older ones, but they often took a few bad deals to get there. That girl had just narrowly escaped a whole lot of trouble - burb root was exceptionally toxic and irritant. Even though it did not normally cause dangerous poisonings, accidents would inevitably result in a nasty skin rash that could take a long time to cure. That was one of the risks one took with the freelance suppliers - there was always glass among the diamonds, as they said. His good deed for the day done, Aidra decided it was time to leave. He felt his exhaustion finally creeping up on him: The flickering sunlight shining through the tree foliage above, out of the corner of his eye swiftly turned into deadly stalra flames; the shadows that the passers-by caused along the housewalls came alive and crept up on him like chitrach, and his mind's eye kept replaying the three dozen crystals that shattered under his knife as he was attempting the final test. Several times, he almost pulled his waveblade on an unsuspecting townsperson, startled by a sudden movement, only to have to apologize and try to calm down his breathing. With that in mind, he resolved to get some sleep - his old quarters in the dormitory were presumably still free as he had not yet left the academy, and they were close by. Taking course for the dormitory housing, Aidra struggled to keep awake. This was probably what caused him to miss the dark shadow who crept out of an alleyway behind him and followed at the distance of perhaps twenty paces. * * * "Aidra!" He jumped and turned at the sound of his own name, shouted across the street. Who was calling him? Then he recognized the voice. "Olidra!", he called joyfully. "S'ka kal*!" "And the same to you," Olidra responded. "I see you have returned from the test. How did you fare?" "I am alive," Aidra responded. "How did I fare? I have been alternately chased, tackled, mangled, bitten and scorched. Had I been a bit slower, I would have been pressed flat, perforated with sharp spikes, boiled in oil or dissolved in acid. It didn't happen; is not that enough?" Olidra chuckled. "I did warn you, did I not? But you did not listen. I told you that the test is the most lethal you will ever face in your life unless you go into business as an adventurer. I told you that in that test, they're trying to kill you at least as much as they are trying to test you. And you wanted to take it right away!" "You took it," Aidra reminded his friend. "You still seem to be alive and none the worse for wear." "I took the forachid a good five years after my time at the academy was over, do not forget that. And don't think I spent those years on a vacation, either." Olidra had been cautious, like most of the other students. The academy of Avtris did not require students to take their final exams immediately; they could defer them for a whole of seven years, not a long time in the lifespan of the Vahnatai. Olidra had made use of the intervening time by leaving the academy and training his skills intensively. His practical experience had made the test a breeze afterward. After facing hordes upon hordes of naturally wild chitrach, and exploring the crypts of old Hraithe who frequently guarded their lairs with more than the occasional trap and counter-intuitive riddles, doing the same in the forachid was nothing new. Aidra believed that Olidra would have aced the examination even without this preparatory phrase. His older friend, who had been named - literally translated - "Dream Mind Fire", had already been one of the best students in his class while he was at the academy. His caution outweighed his confidence, however, and he had opted for the additional training. Now, it was doubtful whether there was another mage with his skills, though not his power. "Yes, I remember. And you counselled me to do the same." "And yet you refused my counsel," Olidra said with a smile. "Who would not have? I have suffered in this pen for the last seventeen years; I could not possibly wait for the test another seven!" Aidra called out. "Is life so short? I told you it could very well be if you hastened the forachid. I hope you don't regret your decision now." "Not anymore," Aidra said, "although there were some tight spots in the cavern earlier. If it hadn't been for your hints, I would never have made it out of the stal'ra tunnels alive." Olidra paled, in so far as that was possible on his grey skin. "Mighty Zaratis above, you did not rely on my ages-old map of that maze?" When Aidra nodded in the affirmative, he gasped. "I told you that they were almost certain to change it. Did you not remember the Mapping spell I taught you?" Aidra muttered something that sounded a bit like "didn't bring a sapphire". "Listen to the first rule of adventuring. When exploring, you always take a sapphire, or several of them. If you didn't have a spare, you should have asked me. Goodness, it is a miracle you were able to use the old map; I have been informed that the mazes and riddles are altered regularly to prevent students from cheating. I hope that your adventure in the maze has taught you that." "It doesn't matter now; I came through, didn't I?" Aidra motioned impatiently. "One thing they did change were the riddles. I tell you, the rest of the thing was a walk in the woods against the third part." "What?" Olidra seemed a bit taken aback. "When I came through there, it was the simplest thing in the world. Most of them were simple math problems - calculate six by nine in base thirteen and the like." "Yes, they had that one too. And after the last one on that level, they apparently built an entirely new one full of death traps that those hraithe would be envious of. Can you imagine trying to assemble a scattered mosaic on the floor while there are sharpened steel spikes on the ceiling that come lower and lower? That kind of thing." Olidra appeared genuinely surprised. "So they did change the riddles. Goodness - metal spikes? I mean, they showed they are not messing around with those fiery tunnels, but this sounds like some perverted punishment pit more than a test." "Who are they?" "Hm?" "The ones who designed the caverns," Aidra pressed. "They are not our teachers, surely?" "No they are not. As far as I know, they are not even directly employed by the Academy. I believe they are independently contracted." "As far as you know? But who does know - it can't be a closely guarded secret, can it?" Olidra chuckled. "Oh, in light of what most of the examined students think about them, they are a lot safer if they remain nameless, do you not believe so? I mean, if you were to find them..." "They'd be in trouble," Aidra nodded darkly. "Especially the one who made up that ridiculous riddle about the Lúk." "That's one of the one's I told you about," Olidra admonished him. "I told you the riddle and the solution; had you forgotten?" Aidra grudgingly admitted he had. "Never seek for a straight answer to a riddle. The ways of the Art of Riddling are twisted and byzantine as the mazes of the Underworld. And the forachid is as dangerous as them. Remember what they say about those tunnels: "Vertiginous chasms deep Where ancient beings sleep And mindless shadows creep Down the deceitful halls." "It is a perilous journey through the test," Olidra concluded. "You have survived. What do you intend to do next?" "Catch some sleep," Aidra said immediately. "I must have been awake for more than two cycles now. If I walk around for another hour, I shall slump over dead." As if to make the point, a yawn crept up to him, which he did not bother to stifle. Olidra laughed. "Then go. Don't sleep too long; you don't want to fail your exam because you turned up a few minutes too late, right?" It sounded like a joke, and Aidra was too tired to care. Raising his hand as if to wave goodbye, but then instead reaching up to cover yet another yawn, Aidra turned away. "Good night!" "Good morning, friend." Olidra corrected with a smile and went on his way. Aidra went into the opposite direction. He did not notice the shadow as it left the darkened doorway in which it had been concealed, and moved on to follow him once again. * * * After merely another twenty minutes of walking, he had arrived at the great double doors of his dormitory house - Teral, Blue Three. The doors were of steel-plated wood, painted blue and sporting the triple circles that were the Novah symbol for the number three. Aidra possessed no key - he needed no key because keys had gotten out of fashion decades ago. Instead, he touched a silver panel inlaid into the steel door with his palm, and it glowed at his touch. Softly speaking a few words to the door, he waited for a few seconds. Doubt, yet again. Was he still authorized, now that he had taken the test? If he passed, he had graduated and was no longer a student here. If he had failed, he was expelled and also no longer enrolled. Would they let him back in, or would he have to sleep right in front of the door like a vagrant? The gears clicked, mechanisms whirred to life inside the walls. The blue steel-plated doors slid apart almost soundlessly. Ah, but of course they would let me in one more time at least. Who else would volunteer to clean up the graduated students' chambers? With that thought, Aidra entered the tunnels and walked down the stairs to his floor - Vahnatai houses were built downwards, not up. As he looked upon the perpetually unmade bed, it was as if the intervening time had never been. When had he left here? Was it one or two days ago now? Struggling to count the hours and remember the time he had spent in the caves, he noticed he had just passed out in the chair. Before he got around to standing up, he had passed out twice more, and realized he was in danger of falling asleep entirely. Hurrying to stow away his weaponry and equipment, he quickly put on his night robes, which still lay strewn over the bed the way he had left them. Moments later, lying in the slender web-like hammock and drifting slowly over into the realms of sleep, he felt, at the edge of his consciousness, a presence that seemed to be waiting quite close to him, unseen. His eyes were closed, but he felt attention trained upon him, heard the anticipating breath. And, as he then sensed a creeping motion, sensed an awareness scrutinizing him and a cold touch on his body, Aidra made a decision he would probably come to regret later on. He decided it was another hallucination induced by his sleep deprivation, and went on to sink into a deep slumber. ----- Edit: Finished this chapter, working on the next. [ Saturday, November 12, 2005 08:22: Message edited by: NaNoWriMo ] -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 2984
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written Sunday, November 13 2005 14:52
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Close to 5000 words behind, but less than yesterday. I'm catching up, slowly but surely, and if it hadn't been for the Numerics assignment, I'd now be right back on schedule. Apologies for the further drop in quality (how do I even manage to get still worse?). Also, I've expanded the last chapter by quite a lot, so you might want to read it again, especially toward the end. Finally, this is one of the more contrived scenes, and it's likely as full of logical holes as a fishernet. III. Dark Dreams It was a whisper in the void. A wind, a breath that tastes rotten in the cold air of dawn, a smell like blood, iron and fresh snow. A smell like death. A murmur amongst the gods, an angry murmur like that of one run out of patience, a muttering full of wrath against a fallen race. A disturbance in the midst of the Silence, cacophonous. From darkness came light, from light came chaos. And there are holes in time, and gaps in space, and snouted worms are crawling through them like maggots in a decomposing universe. They are the guardians of sanity, and they have turned renegades. Now they are the devourers of the world, and all must fall to their hunger. An eternity passes as the universe is born amidst chaos. What is sanity? Vertiginous chasms of darkness, and the light of insanity pours between the cracks of reality. Run, young fool, run! Can you not see how it is all dissipating? Are not your feet already gone, vanished into the mists, your legs following? How do you walk, how run? Do you not see the world dissolving in shades of blue, blue and glittering as the roofs of yon distant city under a swift sunrise, that you looked on from afar and above but could never reach? Do not buy the Mandrake from the shifty-eyed trader, you will get crushed by the ceiling and you can't cut a good crystal with it anyway. Or can you? It has never been tried. Quick, calculate infinity divided by nothing in base zero; you have three seconds! Two! One second! You lose and get eaten by the rampant fungi. Try again? Yes, no, ignore, abort. Retry. Infinity multiplied by infinity multiplied by an infinite number of infinities, then subtracted by one. What are numbers? Run, run fast! Shadows are at your heels, shadows dancing like flames formed of mist, licking greedily at the dissolving floor. They are burning not with heat but with disorder - feel the wave of confusion that washes over your face as you look upon them. Cracks open inside the floor, and widen to open upon sights not meant for mortals. Do not let the flames catch you, or you will never have existed Can you remember the towers of Nalax? Of course you cannot; they were erased from history and present and future, to exist only in dreams and in the narrow gaps between reality. The academy was called Nalax, it was called Avtris, it was named Oriath. What is reality? Only one colour, but not one size, stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies. Present in sun, but not in rain, doing no harm and feeling no pain. If a hundred red-eyed monks sit together at mass, and suddenly a tourist shouts: "Why, none of you have red eyes!", then how long will it take until they are all dead? How long will it take until they are reincarnated as rabbits and learn to live with their natural eye colour? Why does night fall and day break and not vice versa? If a tree falls in the forest and there is--- Crash. The stream ended, the tree has fallen and I lie crushed beneath it, trying to catch my breath. Where am I? How did I come here? I feel disorientation, as if floating through space. I have awoken from a strange dream, but am now awake. I open my eyes, for a cold breeze is blowing across my face. I am sitting in a circular stone hall, five passages winding outside from the center where I am sitting. The floor mosaic is forming a five-pointed star, each of the rays a different colour. I am facing the red ray, and the open gateway that yawns before me, opening up into the deep darkness of a long tunnel is made from iron. It is rusty, and looks like dried blood. What is the meaning of this? I stand up and turn around slowly, facing each of the five hallways in turn. Another one is silver, the white ray of the star points toward it. It is opposite the black ray, which is pointing toward a door of obsidian. Still another door appears to be made of sapphire, and I notice a green ray pointing toward it. The sight looks out of place, for the ray opposite the green one is colored red, and in that direction lies a doorway painted blue. It hardly surprises me when I realize that something else is wrong with my perception of this room: Opposite rays? The star has five points, has it not? I count them again. Blue, white, red, green, red, black. No, silver, brown, yellow, red, dark blue, violet, red, light blue. No, I have turned in a circle now. I step outside of the central tile of the star in order to be able to observe all of its points at once, because I suspect they are changing their colour as I count them. But in the moment I step off the tile, the floor resounds with a loud click, and with a groan of ancient stone gears, the entire room begins to spin so fast that I am knocked to the ground. The walls are turning as well, for I can clearly see the gateways moving over stone and then past the tunnel openings. They are all colored a rusty red now. The floor moves apart like these new radial doors that have recently become fashionable, and I fall out into the bright emptiness beneath…. My thoughts reach a strange clarity as the winds rush past me, ripping at my blue robes. I cannot see the bottom, for all around me is shining a bright light of a colour I cannot define. Words reach me from the past - in the same moment as I fall into the fissure, I realize that it would not be destroyed as planned. Confusion. Dark spots circle around me slowly. My eyesight returns to normal, the colours are inverted. I am falling through a void filled with stars, and the wind whispers to me of ancient dying worlds. A music resounds through the emptiness, and it is the most beautiful sound that I have ever heard. I close my eyes to listen to it. Then I hit the ground with a sickening crunch. I feel relieved for an instant. Then the tree that has been falling after me all this time hits my chest once again. Where was I? My memories returned but slowly. I was breathing heavily, suffocating beneath the--- tree? There was no tree. I grew aware that I was not heaving problems with my breathing because of a weight resting on my chest, but because my heart was hammering at an incredible pace inside it. The sudden awakening had alarmed me, although the awakening was probably the sanest thing that had happened to me since I had fallen asleep. But I still did not know where I was. Then I remembered that I was in the Sapphire City. Or, to be more exact, in the neral, the Blue-Three dormitory of the Academy of Oriath, lying or rather sitting upright - in my hammock, attempting to get my bearings. That left the issue of time. There were no windows, for I was three levels beneath the surface. The air was stifling in my chamber, and I quickly opened the ventilation duct that had been sealed off before, allowing the cool breeze to flow over my face. Had my strange dreams been caused by this stale air and the suffocating heat? That would explain some of those visions that were still freshly imprinted on my waking mind with uncharacteristic clarity. I looked at the carved crystal on the bedside. The coloured, glowing pinpoints of light that moved inside it told me it was just under an hour before sunrise. Dawn yet again? Had I not just gone to sleep a few hours before noon? Struggling to think clearly, I began to count the days. I had left Avtris to take the test at dawn on the first day of the third month. I had made a few preparations and then camped in the wilderness - I had entered the caves at dawn on the second day. I had left the caves at dawn on the third day. Then I had arrived at Avtris a few hours later. Then I had slept until… My mind suddenly wide awake, I pushed aside the sheets and rushed to dress. The third sunrise after departure was the deadline by which examinees had to return to the Academy in order to pass. And the minutes until sunrise were even now ticking away, I realized as I ran through the room. Then I slipped on the stone cold floor in my haste and hit the ground with a painful thump. Rubbing my aching lower back, I stood up again and grabbed the blue robe from where I had discarded it the previous day, and wrapped myself in it. I took up my weapons and equipment again - it was better to come to the halls as I had left them - and stormed out of the chamber. * * * As I ran through the silent corridors, I was glad that the classes began only after sunrise - they would not start for nearly another hour, at which point the halls would be so crowded one could barely walk, let alone run. For some reason, all of the students would decide to leave for the classrooms precisely ten minutes before the lessons - and that after years and years of being stuck in the crowd every morning. Since my first year, I had taken to leaving five minutes earlier - a trick that had been to me by Olidra. He had also warned me to teach it to only one - at most two - other students in the lower years, since it would be rendered useless if everyone knew it. But now, it was at least half an hour until anyone would leave for the classrooms, and the long corridors were deserted. Yet, the sky in the east was already beginning to turn orange by the time I had reached the central building where I needed to go. Hoping that "dawn" was not considered to be over before the sun had fully risen, I swiftly stepped up to the great double doors that were formed of a single, magically shaped crystal. They were locked. Looking back, I now think that should already have warned me something was wrong. Were they not expecting me to return now? Was I already late? But at that time it did not; I was merely anxious to enter the hall as quickly as possible. I touched the silver key panel next to the door, and was treated to the sounds of silence. Either the panel had not recognized my palm, or I was not in its list of identified persons, or I was placed specifically on the list of persons to deny entry. Being that there was no way of knowing which of these was true, and I was going to go with optimism this morning, I pressed my hand on the panel once again, making sure to wipe the sweat off first. Nothing. In desperation, I began to knock on the door - knocked on the thick, impervious plates of crystal, first with my knuckles, then with my palm, then with both fists. There was no noticeable reaction, save that after around ten seconds of this, my hands were in burning pain forcing me to withdraw and surrender, ignobly, to the victorious door that looked none the worse for wear after my violent assault. I was about ready to throw myself against the unyielding frames, when I heard steps within, drawing closer to the door. Hastily, I took a few steps backward, trying to calm down my breathing and look composed - rather than like someone in an advanced state of panic. There was nothing to be gained by panicking, and the motto of the school did have something about serenity - I couldn't remember exactly, but it was the sort of tired quote a teacher was likely to throw at you if you looked agitated: Entirely devoid of content, but perfectly suited to make the one who uttered it sound wise. Or like a wisecracking smartass, rather. The reason I had stepped backwards had little to do with that, however. The doors opened outward, and I had no intention of getting hit in the nose by a ton of crystal to round off the morning. The doors slid ponderously outward, and light shone through the widening gateway. A man stepped out. He was very obviously a teacher, but against the light I could not make out a face in the non-descript robed figure. Then he spoke. "You took your time, did you not?" I must have looked stricken, for he immediately calmed my fears by continuing. "Yet there is still time - barely. Why you felt it necessary to wait until the last possible instant I do not understand - what is it with you students that you have to cut everything as close as you can? Dramatics?" I could not but helplessly shake my head as I hurried inside the hall after him. The doors, sensing no one in their vicinity, fell close after a few seconds with a deep clang. It sounded very foreboding. * * * "Student Aidra," the voice sounded from the podium, with a deep resonance. I was already feeling as if I had walked into the wrong room. Test assessments did not look like this, did they? As I took my appointed seat, I felt more like the defendant in a hall of justice about to receive his death sentence than a student about to receive his grade. Around me, the assembled professors of the Academy hovered like dark sorcerers or overgrown bats in their robes - I could recognize most of them, but not all. The speaker on the podium was Seris-Ihrno, the senior master of the Academy; next to him were sitting the other two members of the directorial triad. All the most powerful authorities of the institution were assembled here - a constellation whose unpleasant implications did not escape me. "You are accused of breaking rules of procedure in taking your exam." Apparently, my instinct had been right. The uncomfortable feeling that had been sitting in my stomach for some time tightened all of a sudden into a dull, aching knot. Rules of procedure? Were they accusing me of cheating - had they found out about the hints Olidra had given me? The map even - the general hints could be excused; the map could not. "The rules clearly state that upon departing to take the test, you must travel directly to the testing grounds by the shortest way possible. After completing the test, you must then leave the caverns immediately and return to this hall by the shortest means possible. Do you deny that you have done neither of these two things?" My mind was too busy boggling to reply at first. I was expecting an immediate expulsion for receiving help; instead I was being accused of taking a nap before returning to the hall? Nonetheless, I was just a bit worried. The past years had taught me how these bureaucracies worked: A minor violation of procedure could just as easily disqualify me as an actual proven attempt at cheating. The knot in my stomach had become a hard, acidic ball, and I felt sick. There was no other way, however - the consequences of disclaiming these violations were decidedly more dire than the violations themselves. "I deny neither." With honesty into the grave, I thought cynically. My downfall would once again be my instinctive urge to be truthful. That, and my incessant tiredness that forced me to take naps when I could least afford them. "Do you realize the serious nature of your violation?" As a matter of fact, I did not; I remained silent in answer to the rhetorical question. I waited for them to continue. They did not, so I gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Upon your briefing, you are given crucial information," they went on as if I had answered the last question with no. "By delaying the time you enter the test, you are able to engage in further preparation prior to your actual entry in response to this crucial information. Doing so grants an unfair advantage to the student who does it." Actually, we were all given the same time and thus the same opportunity to do so - some unfair advantage that was. The preparation that I had engaged in had not even been affected by the little information that had been given to me - I had known I would fight monsters, use magic and solve riddles, and which first-grader did not know to expect that from the forachid? I had camped in the wilderness for a day to catch up on the sleep that I had missed in the previous nights of studying. Only a fool goes to battle tired when not forced to do so. Again, I did not respond - it was better not to argue. "Furthermore, our assessment hinges upon our ability to judge the amount of time you required to take the test." So I was accused because my violation artificially lowered the score? I didn't know it was against the rule to stay under the potential maximum. This was more than I was going to stay silent about. "Would it be unconventional to give me the score according to the time between my departure from here and my return?" "In light of your using the full three days - something that has not occurred for two hundred and seventy four years, when a student remained in the riddle halls for two days - yes, it would certainly be unconventional. Your score according to this rating would be abysmal." Better than none at all...but I did not reply. "Besides, this issue is moot because of the earlier violation. Even had you returned by the shortest way possible, you have used an unfair advantage in not entering by the shortest way." I think that was the time when I was beginning to get the message. It just made no sense at first, and that's why I didn't acknowledge it right away. "The valid procedure has not been followed in your performance of the examination. Your performance is therefore invalid." I was hearing the words, and they formed sentences, but the sentences did not make any sense. Was I still caught in the earlier dream? I was able to answer the question with No immediately - in a dream, one did not wonder whether one was dreaming. I was caught in cold, grey reality and it was worse than the nightmare I had woken up from. I did not need to hear the rest of Seris-Ihrno's speech - I had failed the examination, and by implication was now expelled from the academy. No second chances. This was the end. Curiously, it was a sensation other than despair that appeared to grip me in that strange moment. It would have been, probably, had the directors actually accused me of a different violation - I had had help on the exam, and even received a map of one of the mazes. Had this been the reason for my expulsion, I would have been horrified, but horrified while acknowledging guilt. Instead, what I felt was a surging anger. Behind my eyes, points of blinding fire were burning brightly, and my stomach was full of the bitter rage of injustice. That weight I felt on my back were the seventeen years spent in these halls, studying for the courses, buying the course materials in the market square to craft products that the academy would later sell again, nearly two decades of my life. Wasted in one go, because I had twice slept too long when I should not have. How had I even slept for what must undoubtedly be at least twenty hours? Such long periods were uncommon even for extreme sleep deprivation among our people! I had jumped up from my seat even as Seris-Ihrno continued - "…therefore not award you the degree of the Academy of Oriath, nor the title of Ka." But I had turned around and was already racing down the long stone hall, between the empty seats of the auditorium. There were teachers on either side that had been listening to the whole procedure. They made no move to stop me. And then, as I came level with the entrance, I saw a figure robed in red, unlike the clothing of the academy - with utter shock, I recognized Olidra. He had witnessed the entire thing! He had seen me accused, and had seen me expelled - and had said nothing. With another pang of betrayal, I remembered the words we had spoken at parting on the previous days. catch some sleep... or I'll slump over dead... Then go. Then go. I had had ample warnings whenever he had helped me, in violation of the rules - this was the one time when I was doing something that would have gotten me disqualified, and he had warned me with not a single word. I sought to look into his eyes, but he looked past me with a cold gaze. With renewed rage, as well as a mixture of shame and disappointment, I threw open the great doors and ran out. I caught the last few fragments from the master that sounded like "expelled" or "exiled", I couldn't make out which and it was all the same anyway, and then I was out of the hall. The huge crystal doors clanged shut behind me with a deep sound that did not sound foreboding now as much as mournful. I had left the Academy behind forever, and was running away into the swiftly rising sun. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 1993
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written Monday, November 14 2005 06:25
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tl, drn (did read nevertheless) :P To be honest, this was my thought before I read it. Now I think it is too short, and I wait with tension for the continuation ^_^ Some suggestions, only if you need filling stuff: At the market in Avtris Aida sees other students selling stuff. It would be likely that he also meets friends or at least people he knows: There could be little dialogues. I'm sure the younger students also know about Forachid and who is currently doing the test - thus the return of Aida might be exciting. They whisper his name in awe and he is the heroe now. Aida prevents a girl from buying false mandrake. Why don't they talk together? The girl could be more thankful for the hint. Maybe she also could be a useful character later in the story . Now, if I look into my crystal sphere I can clearly see you, Aran, far away from now - maybe 10 years - but clear enough to recognize the golden shine of success and wealth that surrounds your tiny figure. You write at volume 5 of your bestseller serial. The first four have been translated in 18 languages. One month ago, your face has been on "Time Magazine" - now you need a secretary to keep fans and journalists in a reasonable distance ... *tiny figure fades away* >_< Eww, that damn chicken gods have flown across my head. edit: typo [ Monday, November 14, 2005 11:03: Message edited by: spy.there ] -------------------- Slartucker: * facepalm facepalm facepalm * Dikiyoba: Are you unconscious yet? Posts: 1420 | Registered: Wednesday, October 2 2002 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 2984
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written Monday, November 14 2005 10:57
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The problem is that I have exactly thirty days, no more - at least to finish the novel and write 50k words. That means I cut myself short whenever the chapter reaches between 4000-5000 words in length, because otherwise, I won't be able to finish. Yes, the chapters are becoming increasingly brief for that reason. I'll have to flesh them out later if I do finish... And thanks for the hint about the market square - I know it seemed obvious to have some dialogue, but I didn't have any mental image in mind before you described that scene. :) Maybe, if I finish the fourth chapter today (or come close to it) I'll elaborate on the earlier one a bit... -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Warrior
Member # 5274
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written Monday, November 14 2005 20:25
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Just be careful you don't exhaust yourself mentally while writing this. If you do immerse yourself too deeply in this and suffer writers block it can be a pain to get over. What I'm saying is that setting yourself word targets to achieve in a day and then forcing yourself to complete them may appear to be efficient at first but over an extended period of time you may find yourself loosing interest in the story as it becomes more like duty than recreation. Good luck and pace yourself. [ Monday, November 14, 2005 20:26: Message edited by: Poit ] -------------------- I assume my reputation for arrogant presumption precedes me Posts: 107 | Registered: Thursday, December 9 2004 08:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 2984
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written Tuesday, November 15 2005 04:08
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I only need to be "efficient" for another 15 days. After that, I'll actually straighten out the story - this is just an exercise in continued spontaneity. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 2984
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written Saturday, November 19 2005 10:46
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I'm now so far behind that my effort to catch up has developed a kind of comical futility that makes you wonder whether to laugh or feel sympathy with me. And yet, I've churned out another chapter. If things go as planned, the next chapter should already follow soon after, and be almost done today. Anyway, here goes. I'd warn you about the quality, but that is old. I figure that by this point, if you're still reading, you are either a masochist or you (impossibly!) appreciate my particular style of mediocrity. So enjoy, or die trying. IV. Lost Dusk. A warm crimson glow beckoned from behind, and the world was bathed in golden light. Behind the hilltops, the sun was descending, and the sky was turning dark grey in the east. The might of Winter held the land in an icy grip already, and was only going to increase its stranglehold in the next few months. Cold wind tore at the robes of the traveller, and forced him to draw them tightly around his shoulders for a moment, shivering. He had stormed out of the academy with a scream of fury upon his lips, and left behind the city almost blinded by anger. He had run long indeed on that remote morning that now seemed ages away, though it was not even a day ago yet. * * * Running, stumbling, falling and rising again, into the thickets, between the trees and into the depths of the forest. Reaching open ground, a small clearing, his feet would race swiftly over the even ground without producing a sound - then, as the underbrush began to close in again, he would stumble and lose his balance, scratching his face and arms when he narrowly broke a fall - not for clumsiness but rather for his haste and his anger. He did not see where he was going; he was as if blinded by his disappointment, his anger, his… shame? Who was he ashamed for? He had no parents left - had never known them, in fact, in his conscious life. He had come out of the crystal coffin to learn that the chambers that had held his parents had been destroyed by rampant hydras that had laid waste to a large part of the hibernation complex his family had slept in. Many had woken that time to find their friends gone, some to find themselves the only survivors of their whole family, like Aidra. His young age had prevented him from being too stricken by it. He had never had parents - first, his family had been the city's wardens and the other orphans from the disaster; later on, his family were the teachers at the academy of Oriath and his fellow students. Teachers like Rabon-Ka. Fellow students like Olidra. The bright flame between his eyes began to burn again as it had in the moment he had stormed out of the great hall. Anger: Anger, shame - shame before himself more than anyone else, and grief. But most of all, disorientation and confusion. Where was he? Where had he come from? Where was he going? Lost. He was lost, and had lost. He had lost everything, and not merely his way. What remained to him now - a blade, a pouch of crystals and less than two days' worth of rations? And what besides his material possessions - what was he, now that he was no longer a student, but also not a mage? He had lost his place among his people, his life, and his identity. His family, his friends, his guides. He was nobody. He had no name, he had no life, he had nothing save his immediate survival, some food and his feet, which were still plodding along over the forest floor. He was nobody. Nobody. He ran that way for a long time. Minutes? Hours? He had lost his sense of time as well. It had been morning when he had left by this road for the first time; it had been morning when he had returned from the test, it had been morning when he had been expelled from the academy. The sun was rising before him as he ran away, it was circling around him to the right, and by the time he even noticed time again it was long past midday. His were a lithe and fleet-footed people, and an enduring one. He could run for a long time. And at length, he slowed down. His speed wore him out, even after having rested for such a long time, and he grew exhausted. His gait changed from a swift run into a slow, but steady plodding, then into a jog, from that into a fast march, and at last into a fatigued walk. He was calmly walking along, if it could be called calm in any way else than his speed. His heart was beating all the way up to his throat, and his breath was going like a pump - it seemed to him that he had only begun to feel this exhaustion since the moment he had slowed down, but the truth was that he had just been deadened to the feeling of tiredness in his bones. As he walked, his heartbeat seemed to slow down as well, imperceptibly, until at first his breathing no longer came ragged with every step. Then he could breathe every two steps, then every four steps, and finally he was back to normal. With his heart beating more normally, and him walking so slowly he did not need to watch his step any more, and with his anger all boiled away into the physical exertion, he began to think. And as he walked on, he thought for a long time. * * * The rations he had taken with him were already nearing their end, even after a single day. Fortunately, he had instinctively grabbed his pouch earlier. He should have been able to purchase a small supply of food at least prior to his rush into the wilderness. He was a fool, but not a suicidal one - and leaving the city to go ranging cross country at this time of the year, without any rations, was the latter. But these were idle thoughts, and they came long after the fact. He had not bought rations - in fact, he had not even stopped once since he had ran away from the academy, not to shop for additional equipment, nor for food, nor even to reconsider or make up his mind as to where he was going to go. He might not be suicidal just yet, but his foolishness made up for that a few times over. Unfortunately he had been equally unable to purchase any more crystals. Fire crystals, namely, as well as sapphires, which could be had quite cheaply down at the market square. Like a ghostly echo, the words of Olidra came back to him. You always bring a sapphire. But the fire crystals, too, had their use - he was woefully inexpert in melee combat, and if he came into a hostile situation in the wilderness, the crystals he had still left over from the forachid were not going to last him long. By far not long enough to depend on them, at least - he would instead have to depend on his wave blade, and his lacking skill with it. At least, he now was no longer disoriented, nor was he without a goal. He had fashioned a plan. The first phase had succeeded; he had wanted to get out of the academy. He was now out. The second phase had also succeeded: He was out of the town of Avtris, and had left its outskirts behind. The third phase was well in progress - he was travelling through the wilderness, and holding eastward. By a bee's line - diverging from the south-eastern path that led away to the testing grounds, and passing them by on the northern side -, he would arrive in the city of Mehdat in three days' time - four days, if the rations did not last, and he had to hunt for food. The amber berries that this forest was known for would not grow and ripen until spring, and the roots that constituted the staple diet in these parts had just been harvested weeks earlier. If any remained in the ground now, they were foul and rotten. He was now glad that the physical education of Oriath had included the basics of outdoor survival and hunting, as well as recognizing those animals that were edible and distinguishing them from the beasts that were merely dangerous and ferocious. That was the easy part of the plan. The harder parts were about to start: His rations had not lasted, as expected, and he was about to hunt for his lunch. It was better to start early, now that he still had a few supplies left and was more or less sated. One did not hunt well when one's stomach was already hurting with the pangs of hunger. The downside of this particular problem was his weaponry. He still had the steel wave blade that he had taken to the forachid caves, but he did not have any of the more common weapons one would use in a forest, and against a beast that was more likely to flee than fight. Razordisks were the weapon of choice of the huntsman, and he did not see how he was going to get close enough to a deer to kill it with a sword. However, there was nothing to be done about this particular problem. He would just have to try his luck with the blade if he did not want to die of starvation. The other hard part of the plan was one that could be faced later. He had enough money to acquire basic necessities in Mehdat, possibly even stay at the local tavern for a while. He remembered the Stone Serpent, one of the cheaper establishments of the city, from visits lying farther back. If the years had not changed the town and the wealth of the tavern's patrons, then he should be able to afford at least a week's stay there without putting too much of a dent in his funds. And after that? He quite plainly did not know. He hoped to be able to find some kind of employment or even apprenticeship with a craftsman - an alchemist, perhaps, or a jewel-smith? He had had reservations about that at first, but then remembered the job he had done on that fire barrier stabilizer: He did have the skill, once he practiced and gained the theoretical knowledge. Only the mages were experts at crystal-carving, and no mage would have to apprentice himself to a craftsman: A jewel-smith who wanted an apprentice would be satisfied with some potential and a good effort. He had not yet fully accustomed to the knowledge that he was not a mage and would likely never be. What magic he could do, he could not practice professionally by Vahnatai law, and it was nearly impossible for non-magi to gain further training in the arcane arts. A career as an alchemist was not to be discarded out of hand, however. He had a good knowledge of herbs and basic alchemical equations, as well as the caution and accuracy in experimenting that distinguished the occasional dabblers from the fools who were likely to blow themselves up at the first opportunity. He had to grin in a moment of long anticipated self-irony. Here he was, planning out his future career when he had just been thrown out of one of the most prominent institutions in the land far and wide! He would be lucky if he even found any opportunity to get a job - and if he did, he would be lucky if the news of his dishonourable expulsion from the academy - certainly not an everyday event - did not precede him wherever he went, likely disqualifying him in the minds of any employer for any other task than mining iron ore, possibly. He was lost in thought so deeply that he did not grow aware of the chilly silence that suddenly hung over the forest for a long time. When he finally got the eerie feeling of being observed, it was almost too late: A growl alerted him to the danger, and in the next moment, before he quite knew what was happening, he was in the midst of battle. In mid stride, he spun around, his wave blade drawn out of its sheath and stretched out before and below him - held low in anticipation of blocking a sudden leap, for which the blade would be quickly raised to the right level to allow the attacking creature to impale itself; it was nearly impossible to block with the blade raised, or - heavens forbid - above one's head. He was still incompetent with the blade, but he was not foolish at least. The creature was practically on top of him before he could even think of reacting, let alone raise his sword. He identified it as some kind of cat-like being, smaller than the very dangerous tiger that was the most ferocious predator native to these lands, but still extremely vicious and with plenty sharp claws to spare. A hyena, he reflected, recognizing the spotted fur shining in the late evening sun. Side step. The hyena was unable to change her course in mid-jump and flew narrowly past him, landing a few paces behind him, but on her feet. He had swiftly turned around to follow the predator's movements, but even so he was unprepared for the amazing agility and speed with which she had turned and was charging him again. She must be exceedingly hungry, or else have a litter of cubs too feed: The wild animals of this world had already long learned to avoid beings that walked on two legs, that were able to launch steel, fire and death from their fingertips, and that threw small stones which exploded in fire. Whichever of the two it was, he could not hope to scare this beast off - if he was going to survive, he had to disable her, kill her or escape - where the latter was impossible if it was truly hunger that drove the hyena. She could run far faster than he, even were he not exhausted, which he was. It was entirely possible that the hyena was merely protecting her territory, however, in which case a rapid escape might be effective. Experimentally, he turned north and ran a few meters. He could hear the hyena padding along behind him, so close he could almost feel her breath on his legs. It did not seem to be going to let him away that easily. In a sudden moment of clarity, he remembered that hyenas were pack hunters. They had no territories to protect. He was an idiot. He turned - it was going to be him or that beast, and he was not going to evade her much longer. Caught by surprise, the hyena left herself open, and he was able to lightly strike her side as she came to him. This time, a side step did not save him: Carried by her momentum, she was upon him in a moment, and he was thrown to the ground by the weight. The beast's jaws almost immediately snapped at his throat, but was fortunately distracted by the shallow wound in her side, allowing him to make a swift turning motion and wrest the animal off him. He cast his gaze around; the wave blade lay where it had fallen from his hands in his fall, a few paces away. The hyena stood between him and the blade, and was readying for another attack. Without some kind of blade, he was meat. But as the hyena lunged, he drew a dagger that had still remained in the side of his belt, and was able to fend her off while he tried to move around her in an attempt to regain his main weapon. No such luck: With a ferocious growl, two sleek creatures burst out of the underbrush; apparently the hyena's pack was very close by. Faced on three sides by lethal predators, he was left without an alternative: He had hoped to conserve his few remaining crystals for later, but they were the only means of fighting that remained to him now. Pulling one of the sparkling red gems from his pocket, he lobbed it at one of the males that had just arrived, hoping that it was indeed a fire bomb and not a barrier-piercing crystal. He was not disappointed: The gem exploded with the brilliant tinkling of shattering glass and a blinding red flash. The two hyenas were struck by the red-hot crystal shards; one of them was killed and the other critically injured. He moved in and dispatched the second hyena with a quick thrust of the dagger. This seemed to be enough for the third animal, who was evidently the pack leader. She turned tail and fled back into the depths of the forest, leaving him standing alone on the overgrown road with the quite singed corpses of the other two animals. Lunch. * * * As it turned out, the meat of a hyena was only slightly less pleasant to eat than that of a crow. The fact that the beasts had been killed in battle made the meat tough and bitter, and his lack of cooking skills did not help to outbalance this. What resulted from his basic knowledge of hunting was a chewy steak and two haunches - the other animal was too badly burnt to eat - which he was able to half burn, half cook, over an open fire ignited by a heating spell. He put the two haunches in his pack to save them for later. Trying to chew through the leathery steak, he travelled onwards, hoping to reach Mehdat within a few days, before his newfound rations ran out. By the time he had finished cooking the meat, the sun had gone down and the sky had grown dark. There was a soft golden glow remaining in the west, but that would soon vanish as well. The day was coming to an end, and the air began to grow cold and clear in anticipation of winter. He could not travel all around the day, and the darkness was as good a time to rest as any. He reached a small clearing that lay close to the road, and after a little searching soon found a tree with branches that were sturdy enough to support his light weight. In this wild area, he would need a place that was safe from predators. He wondered briefly whether hyenas were able to climb trees, but tried to dismiss that thought. He had never seen a hyena climb a tree. If they could, there was always a chance that the pack had moved on. The pack secured to a branch beneath him, he pulled the sky-blue robes tightly around him and half laid, half sat himself on one of the highest branches, with his back against the trunk. The midnight-blue sky stretched above him clear as a diamond, and cold winds gripped him. Fortunately, the robe was padded with several layers of cloth and was sufficient to keep him warm even in this weather. Yet, he could not sleep for a long while - his mind was wheeling with the overwhelming memories of the past day. And even as he sat there beneath the clear night sky with the brilliant pinpoints of brightness and the softly glowing silver orb dousing the dark forest into a scattered, weak light, he felt more alive than he had in the past twenty years. His mind was etched with the recent events that had changed his entire life so abruptly, and he felt a strange clarity pervading all his thoughts in the same way that the sky above him shone a clear silver light down onto his face. The wind rustled in the leaves, and he felt far too awake to even think of sleeping. Yet, he knew that this feeling was but an illusion. If he did not sleep now, he would collapse at some time during the next afternoon without a doubt, unable to travel on. And so he forced himself to remain still, and willed himself to grow drowsy, staring at the stars wheeling overhead. At length, he fell asleep, the turbulent images of the past day fading away before a soft grey veil that engulfed his mind and sent it into a soothing, dreamless oblivion. * * * It was two days later, and he was no closer to his goal. He did not know why - he was sure he had been travelling east, then north and east again, past the forachid caves and toward the town of Mehdat, but he had not found the end of the forest. The road ended in a few heaps of ancient rubble only a little distance away from the place where he had slain the hyenas - the forest had long since reclaimed what little remained of the path beyond that point. He had been forced to journey on without a road to guide him, but he was prepared for that: He could orient himself exceedingly well by the sun and the stars. The twin moons of Olm, too, gleamed in a bright chain at this time, the larger one full and the smaller one in a waning crescent, rising just an hour before dawn. In clear skies. Unfortunately, it was raining. The sky was covered in a dense, hazy gauze that looked like a low grey roof, closing in on the world and covering it. The cloudy cover looked almost threatening, bearing down on the world like a doom full weight. A thunderstorm was grumbling in the distance, like the cantankerous, irritable voice of an annoyed God, thundering through the world and seeming to shake it to the root - it was far-off, but even so one could see distant flashes off toward the west, briefly lighting up the cloud cover from within, making it even more intimidating. The rain was falling freely, if it could indeed be said to fall, rather than flow: There were no discernable drops; rather, the water came as a ravaging downpour or flood, the very skies were weeping. He had long given up on travelling, and was now seeking shelter under the dense crown of a large euwan, that magnificent tree whose leaves are large enough to wrap around oneself, the tree that is legendary for interlocking with its neighbors to form a dense roof over the forest through which not a glimpse of sunlight could be seen. At the moment, no sunlight would have been visible outside of the shelter of the tree either, but it kept the rain outside at least in some fashion - he was already soaking wet, but at least he was not drowning. In darkness grows the Euwan high, it withers not this tree, the old verse described the unnatural property of this tree that seemed to shun the sunlight and protect itself from it with its leaves. The truth of the matter, he knew, was of course that the Euwan grew that way to catch the most sunlight with its leaves, not ward it off. But that fact of biology was incompatible with the intentions of the poet, and therefore could be blithely ignored. He smiled briefly as he remembered how the verse continued - likewise shall I, when death is nigh, embrace it fearlessly. A sombre mood, painted with the author's realization of a fading existence, his acceptance of mortality, and the anticipation and acceptance of his own death. Stoic serenity was a sacred value among the people, to be unmoving as the crystal whose image religion had them fashioned in. For where the Euwan proudly stands, there I shall rest as well. He looked around at the massive trunk of the tree. On second thought, perhaps not the right verse for the occasion. Or was it? He was lost, hopelessly lost. The south looked like the north, the west like the east. He slowly spun around in a circle and pointed at random into the early evening darkness that surrounded the Euwan at all sides. His outstretched finger might indicate the way back to Avtris and the Oriath academy he had so unceremoniously been cast out of. Or it might indicate the path to the forachid caves, the one place he never wanted to visit again in his entire life if he could help it. Then, he might be pointing toward the town of Mehdat, where he was trying to go. He slowly let his outstretched hand sink down, still gazing at the darkness with interest. Perhaps, if he went in this direction, he would end up in the Eastern waste, many leagues upon leagues of empty plains and hills where no living beings dwelt, not even the wild beasts that roamed through the southern wilderness. Legends had it that shadows gathered there by the twin new moon, but there was little to fear from that. Firstly, it was merely a legend, and secondly, the last twin new moon had been less than half a year ago, and the next would not come for nearly seven years. There was more to fear from the wild beasts - hyenas like the ones that had assaulted him, and larger and more ferocious creatures - and from hunger. He had not even a single day's worth of rations left in his pack, and there was no opportunity to replenish his stock. It was impossible that there was anything within a distance of less than three days of marching from here, not in the midst of the empty lands that had not been travelled since who knew when? Mehdat was not a small town, and nor was Avtris, but they had nothing to offer to each other's travellers, not in the way of sights or trade goods, and they were barely in contact with each other. There was no chance of reaching any place with the rations he had left, and if he were to go anywhere at all, he would have to tighten his belt a lot. A painful rumbling came from his chest as if in response to this, a reminder of the fact that he had not yet eaten since the morning to conserve his food. Worse, if he chose the wrong direction, two days of travelling would leave him stranded in the wilderness without any clue where he was or in what direction he was travelling, and without any food on top of it. There was no way to improve his situation: Stay and linger, or choose a direction and blindly wander on, he was almost sure to starve. Embrace it fearlessly, he wryly commented. The serenity that the People so valued was kept until death, when the eldest of them, tired of bearing the centuries that weighed upon their bones, each one seeming to pile on more weight than the previous one, chose to leave their lives with a single thought, leaving behind their organic shells to join the great Crystal - except for those whose knowledge and experience was so valuable to the living Vahnatai that they allowed the soul to coalesce and crystallize into a real gem, thus to spend the rest of their immortal lives as guides and scholars. He himself was barely even a century old, far too young to begin to tire of this wondrous miracle of a world that he lived in, let alone wish to leave it behind. Of the huge expanse of this continent that maps depicted as distantly heart-shaped, he had seen barely three or four towns in the vicinity of Avtris - Mehdat was among them. In the long years of the academy, he had vowed to himself that, as soon as he was finished with his education, he would get himself a good sturdy staff and go out to see the world. What cruel irony that, on the day that he should have been finally finished, he was denied the only reward that the years had promised, and left without anything to show for the last decade of his life. And now, that he had left the academy and was for the first time travelling on his own, he had managed to lose himself on the road to the nearest town, and was close to starving in the wilderness due to his own stupidity. "It matters not to me", he loudly recited the next line of the poem and closed his eyes as he squatted down to lean against the great trunk of the Euwan tree. One would not expect that to make such a great difference in the pitch-black darkness that was already covering his shelter, but the eyes of the Vahnatai are sharp and see far in the night. As his sight dropped from a murky twilight to the utter darkness of his closed eyes, he perceived that the sounds that reached his ears were gaining a new depth and clarity. The howling of the storm that gripped and tore at his robe in spite of the almost enclosed sheltering space of the tree seemed to triple in intensity; the rushing torrent of the rain began to take on the strength of a roaring stream, and the distant grumbling of thunder came much closer, until it was as if he could hear the sizzling cracks and hissing, slashing sounds of the ferocious lightning bolts that were still so far off. Or were they? With an oath, he opened his eyes and looked around him, half-expecting to see that the storm had closed in by now, the lightning and thunder all around him. There was great danger in that: The Euwan might be a good shelter against the rain, but its great height made it all the more likely to be struck by lightning, and although it was a strong and soaking wet wood that could not catch fire that easily, it would conduct the crackling force of energy like anything, likely leaving him lying beneath it as a dry, smoking piece of charcoal. But as he looked around him, he sighed in relief. Indeed, it had only been an illusion brought on by his heightened awareness of the sounds around him - the thunderstorm was many leagues in one direction from here, and the wind was blowing at a right angle to it. He was in no danger of being turned into a chunk of charred flesh just yet - at least not compared to the relatively larger danger of starving to death over several weeks in the wilderness, leaving behind only a rotting skeleton and a grinning skull to frighten the more wary and less foolish travellers that would pass him by later. There was nothing else to do: He closed his eyes again, but remained standing. Keeping his eyes closed and reaching out with a finger, he turned slowly around, circling several times, then stopped and opened his eyes again. The direction was no different from all the others that he could have chosen: Shadows closed in like a dark, impenetrable wall, and the sheets of rain that came down past the crown of the Euwan were like a waterfall. There is always a way to be more foolish than one has been already, he reminded himself as he thought of the incredibly dangerous folly of leaving the relatively safe shelter he already had for the open space, vulnerable to the rushing torrents and the cold storm. Shaking his head, he laid out a branch to point in the direction he had chosen and wrapped himself tightly in his robes. The longer he lingered here, the shorter was the distance he would be able to travel without food. Gripping his pack and slinging it around his back, he regretfully looked around to the tree whose shelter he would have to leave, and then walked out. * * * -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 1993
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written Saturday, November 19 2005 12:33
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quote::P If you are fishing for compliments ... I am thrilled and I HARDLY CAN WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER, but that is old ^_^ But Aran: thunderstorms and rain-pouring in winter? Also (but it's only a detail): you describe hunger and eating - what is with water? Would that not be more essential? [ Saturday, November 19, 2005 12:37: Message edited by: spy.there ] -------------------- Slartucker: * facepalm facepalm facepalm * Dikiyoba: Are you unconscious yet? Posts: 1420 | Registered: Wednesday, October 2 2002 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 2984
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written Saturday, November 19 2005 15:45
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Well, first of all it's not yet winter, but more late autumn, perhaps early to mid-November. I know that thunderstorms aren't as common as they're a few months earlier, but still. :P Also, it's not a particularly dry climate and area, and if there is such a downpour of rain at this time, most of the surrounding streams and rivulets would swell enough that there should be no lack of water. He probably does have a bottle in his pack which he can refill... Also, I am amazingly productive tonight. 4700 words in total, or almost three days of work in one day! Two chapters finished! V. Found The first three days were the worst. According to what he had read, this was quite usual: In the beginning, it is a torture to be without food, and the first three days leave one with the constant impression of impending death. These were the days when he was still used to eating regularly, and the sudden lack of nutrition pounded him in the stomach like the fist of a troglodyte, and he felt nauseated. It was all he could do to keep himself from throwing up - under the circumstances, this would have been disastrous, for it would have lost him even more water and nourishment, which he could not replenish. He had to conserve, conserve, conserve: And each day that he rose to look upon a bare grassy plain and woodland, without any sign of habitation nearby, knowing that he would spend this day, like the last, wandering on in a hopeless, straight line, without breakfast, without lunch, without dinner, and shamble on till at last he collapsed to the ground in utter exhaustion and slept till the next morning. Only to have to repeat the entire process again the next day, and the one after that, until one day he would be too exhausted to walk, and would just remain lying there, falling into a half-waking, half-drowsing dream, and finally falling asleep without ever waking again. Had it really been only three days since that terrible thunderstorm? Five days since his fight with the hyena? A week since he had left the academy behind forever? The days and nights appeared to blur, disappearing into a hazy, timeless nightmare in which he had been trapped forever, and would be trapped forever. After the fourth day, it was as if something had shifted inside his body and his metabolism. Whether his body had adapted to the process of dying slowly, or whether it was tapping its last hidden reserves, he had some respite from his constant pains when he woke on the fifth morning after the storm had forced him into making his decision. When he woke, it was as if a new strength had taken hold of him, filled him with renewed vigour and returned hope to one who was hopeless. He felt curiously empty, as if disembodied, as if dreaming, but within this trancelike, unreal state of mind, he perceived a clarity of thought that had not been with him since long before the forachid - a clarity stronger even than the one that he had felt before falling asleep in the tree on the evening of the second day. This first day of his new-found strength was making itself felt so strongly that he could only marvel at the strange thought of dying of starvation: If it felt like this, how could one die from it? Was he not gaining new force, new energy, with every day that he was without food? Would he not finally, when he was rid of the constant craving for nutrition, pass beyond the needs of mortals and become like a crystal himself, sharp and clear, bright and eternal, as foretold by the ancient scriptures of his people? He hastily withdrew from that line of thinking. If he was already hallucinating, then the stress on his bodily functions that resulted from the lack of food must be worse than anticipated. While keeping safely away from the unreasoning, rambling chains of thought, he travelled on and took great care to count the days, and take in the sensory impressions around him, in order to make sure he was not yet losing his mind to the hunger. If he was, then all hope was lost for him: Without reasoning, he had no chance of finding any inhabited place again once he could orient himself. Indeed, he had regained his sense of direction the day after the storm: As soon as he knew that it was dawn, and the sun was rising, not falling, he had a rough idea where East was, and could work from there. It appeared he had been heading northwest all this time - if he had not changed his course at some point in the pitch-black night without a chance to know his directions, as was likely - although he knew no more where he was than he did so as he had been sitting under the Euwan tree. He had no chance of finding out his location now, for he was deep within the wilderness, and as far as directions went, he was as likely to find Avtris to the South as he was to find it to the North. Well, slightly more likely, because he had already travelled a good distance Northeast before he had lost his way, and it was unlikely he had retraced his steps so far south in the meantime. Which still left him stranded many leagues from any place where he could hope to find food, unless the hyenas came back for a second try - and he doubted he would be able to slay one of them this time, if he would even survive the encounter, which was very unlikely. He cursed his luck and his folly for sending him into the outdoors at this season, when the plants had no fruits to offer, and even the most ferocious scavengers were starved for food. * * * The second week was the worst. At this point, there was no doubt about the torturous signals that were sent from his body to his brain. The feelings and the pain were no longer coming from his stomach only, although they were centered there like a hungry spider lurking in its web, which was spanned all throughout his limbs. His arms, his hands and legs, and even his triple-jointed fingers were aching with the exhausting feeling of starvation. His head felt like an enormous balloon, and he was barely capable of rational thought. Indeed, only this morning he had started to have hallucinations and illusions again: Not merely illusions of the mind, and rambling, endless trails of thought, but actual sensory hallucinations. Shadows walked alongside him. He had heard noises that vanished when he listened more closely, a strange singing and humming in his ears, a feeling of dizziness and movement out of the corner of his eyes. He was losing it, he knew - his mind, that is. Soon, he would begin to talk to himself, and by that time he would be blissfully unaware of the world around him. Soon, it would all be over. There was no doubt about that, he was losing his mind and beginning to think in convoluted, long sentence structures that never ended even when one realized that one was thinking rubbish - he, not one, that was, was the one who was thinking rubbish, and he had better not start to become vague in his expressions, even though what he was thinking was not making any sense whatsoever and besides he was far too hungry to think coherently. Coherently. That was the word he had been looking for all this time when he meant to describe something that made sense. Instead, his mind had been caught in strange nonsense like "senseful" or "cohesive". Was he losing the capability for language too? And if they found him, then what would he do, how would he communicate? He would have to grunt and point with his fingers like a troglodyte, and all those who looked upon him would marvel at the strange man who had lost his mind to hunger. He would be ridiculed and eventually fed, and maybe he would regain his mind, or maybe he would not, and live in blissful non-sentience for the rest of his life, not having to bother with complex thoughts again, nor with magical spells or carving crystals, and certainly not with the stupid professors of the academy. Perhaps they would lock him in some kind of zoo, for the new students to look on. "Here is the student who cheated on his test ten years ago, and was chucked out of the school. They found him two months later half starved in the wilderness, and completely out of his mind!" He could not remember his name, he suddenly realized with a surge of panic. At first he thought it was a trick of his mind, a passing illusion. Then he strained to remember it. Was it something with fire? Ambition? Curiosity? Single syllables strayed through his mind. There was an 'a' somewhere in there, he recalled, but whether it had been at the beginning or the end of the name, he had no idea. He felt empty, bereft of his identity. There was a tired grin etched on his face as he remembered that this was what he had felt at the beginning of his journey - he might have chuckled under normal circumstances, but he did not have the strength for it: He was no-one, he was nothing, he was left without an identity, without a persona, without a character. He seemed to be floating alongside his empty, emaciated shell of a body as he walked, and he was a wraith, and his name was Nobody. It grew midday, and it grew afternoon, and it grew dark soon as it was wont to do this late in the year. It could not be past the eighth hour of sunrise when the sun once again began to sink below the horizon, colored a ruddy crimson, and dousing the world in blood-red splendour. His sense of time was skewed in some way, because it seemed as though the day had passed in what felt like barely a glimpse, while the sunset was frozen in eternity, and he wandered on in the red light, feeling as though it would never end. Then it did end, as abruptly as if a torch had suddenly been extinguished. There was no way to mistake the onset of night: From one moment to the next, the world had grown noticeably darker, colder, it was as the transition from autumn to winter, compressed into the space between two seconds. There was no point to walking on past sunset, so he laid himself down where he had walked, his feet stretched into the direction in which he had been walking. As starved as he was, if he ever twitched in his sleep, it was barely noticeable. Even in its unconscious layers of sleep, his body appeared bent on conserving energy, and the dreams he had were vague, shallow and flickering mirages, barely rising above the dreamless oblivion of unconsciousness. His sleep, with every passing night, grew more death-like in its nature. He grinned again, and knew that it was the same grin that would remain etched on his skull when time and rot had eaten off the flesh of his face. At length, he managed to quieten the discomfort of the hard forest floor, and blot out the constant burning pain of his body which still, unreasonably, madly, demanded nutrition. Exhaustion let him fall asleep, and he lay there like one struck down by death. That was when they found him. * * * At first he thought that he was seeing hallucinations once again, as he had earlier. The shadows moved out of the edge of his vision, and began dancing madly in front of him. He grew aware of sounds, first feet softly padding on the grassy ground, then... voices? They sounded more animalic than sentient. He strained to distinguish the growls and purring sounds that sounded distinctly... feline? He would not have believed it possible, but for a moment, fear flooded his starved mind once again. Had the wild beasts found him at last? A hyena, or worse: A tiger, the most dangerous of beings far and wide here? But in spite of the fear, he felt a sense of relief. He was too exhausted to move, let alone stand, let alone put up any kind of defence against these creatures. Soon, very soon, their claws and teeth would tear into him and end it all. He would feel no pain - his body was numb from the hunger and the tiredness and the blazing fire that was already raging within his limbs, reminding him of the time when he had last eaten: At least three weeks ago. He closed his eyes, pulled his dry, tight lips into a smile and waited for the end. And the end did not come, as it so always does when one most expects it. His eyes remained closed for several seconds. Then for several more seconds, and then he exhaled the breath that he had held inside him since he had noticed the presence of these strange creatures standing around him. And then he still kept his eyes closed, and he noticed that there was silence all around him. Just another hallucination then? Or had the hyenas looked him over and decided that what little flesh remained on his carcass was not worth tearing off the bone, and then left again? A pleasant thought, although it did not mean much to his safety: He had days, maybe hours to live in his present state, and whether his last scraps of flesh became food for the predators before or the scavengers after he had died naturally mattered little to him. But as he drew in his breath, he still sensed the smell of living beings - a smell that his body was now concentrated on with its full attention, for living beings like himself were edible. In an unreasoning, irrational urge, he felt the craving to eat the creatures he sensed were still standing around him. But he was still too tired to move. Or too scared, or a combination of the two. At length, he grew aware that he was being watched. Whatever creatures were standing around him were hesitating, as if unsure. Uncertainty, however, was impossible in all the animals that he knew of. They acted on instinct, and instinct was instantaneous. Kill him, leave him, they would know what to do and do it without hesitation. He opened his eyes, and his fading eyesight with his last remaining shreds of consciousness combined with the darkness to let him see strange mirages. He blinked, and the image grew clearer, although he still could not comprehend it. The beings stood on two legs, not four; they were without a doubt sentient. But he could see at once that they were not of the People, for by the orange glow of the torches they carried, he could see they lacked the smooth grey skin of the Vahnatai. Instead, they were covered by fur, and their faces appeared to resemble those of cats. One of them - there were four, he counted, and they were all taller than he - nodded to the others and growled in a series of sounds that appeared to belong to a real language, but that were unintelligible to him. Another responded in what were clearly words, but that reached his ears only as alien sounds that suddenly sounded almost as scary as the growls he had believed to originate from tigers earlier. Sentience was even more frightening that pure instinct: What did these creatures intend to do with him? And suddenly, one of them bent down to him - the one who had spoken earlier - and began to speak his language. It sounded forced, and the purring sounds were impossible to suppress, but it was very clearly Novah, the language of the People. "What is your name?" And in a sudden mixture of relief, exhaustion and exultation that swept across him like a wave, he felt the urge to close his eyes again and sleep, content in the knowledge that whoever these beings were, they intended him no harm. One did not ask someone what his name was before killing him, not among the People, not among animals, and certainly not among whoever these strange beings were that seemed to be curiously somewhere in between. And as relieving as that question felt, so uneasy he was as he tried to answer. He still could not remember his name! It was gone from his mind, and what eighty years of conscious thought had etched upon his memory was suddenly swept away by the obvlivion of starvation! He had truly lost himself, for he no longer knew who he was. His name was nobody. He fumbled for a while, and then, with his last seconds of consciousness, the void of dreamless sleep already creeping in on the edges of his mind, he opened his mouth to form a single syllable. "Tam."* * * * ==== *Nobody. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Shaper
Member # 247
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written Saturday, November 19 2005 22:51
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Why does the contest stress word count, over simply writing a quality story? Edit: Oh and if you're really in need of inane filler, I have a 3,000 word essay on Carolingian Capitularies, that you could, perhaps shove in somewhere. :D [ Saturday, November 19, 2005 22:55: Message edited by: VCH ] -------------------- The Knight Between Posts. Posts: 2395 | Registered: Friday, November 2 2001 08:00 |
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...b10010b...
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written Saturday, November 19 2005 22:52
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The theory is that if you spend all your time worrying about quality you'll be too indecisive to put pen to paper at all, and a bad novel is better than no novel. -------------------- The Empire Always Loses: This Time For Sure! Posts: 9973 | Registered: Saturday, March 30 2002 08:00 |
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Shaper
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written Saturday, November 19 2005 22:58
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I guess that makes sense. But would not it be better to have a one month deadline to write a novel, of non-specific word count. I do agree that people often are far too reluctant, to simply write down what flows into their mind. -------------------- The Knight Between Posts. Posts: 2395 | Registered: Friday, November 2 2001 08:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 20 2005 01:12
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Actually, the dual objective of finishing a story AND having it go beyond a certain length causes a strange kind of balance. It stops me from stretching out a single chapter in an attempt to get the word count, and from rushing through the story in a few hundred words to finish the plot. And yeah, the idea is mostly to remove the inhibitions that are often a problem for beginners in creative writing. Which I definitely am, the countless RPs notwithstanding. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Cartographer
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written Sunday, November 20 2005 13:13
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If you can, I can. Caught you up, unless you haven't updated your NaNo word amount. Thanks for the pull, though. I probably wouldn't have gone for getting to 25k if you hadn't done so. Or, I would've taken much longer. This is good, except I have to stop and go to sleep. Tomorrow I shall found out if I graduate or not. :\ -------------------- "I'm not crazy!" "Well, whatever. Maybe you just ate something really questionable, or perhaps someone hit you on the head with something large, blunt and heavy just now. By the way..." Gil nudged Grul pointedly. Ooh! Homepage - Blog - Geneforge, +2, +3 - My Elfwood Gallery and DevArt page So many strange ones around. Don't you think? Posts: 1308 | Registered: Sunday, September 8 2002 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 20 2005 13:17
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I am glad I could be of help in terms of motivation. Back when you were at 17k and I was struggling around 12k, I could say the same. :P And the next chapter should be done today. Won't, probably, though. I seemingly can't work on two days in a row... Still, the nearly 5k yesterday made it possible to be lazy today. Ha. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |