|
Scribe
Join Date: Jul 2003
Posts: 52
|
New direction, need advice
Hey guys,
i was sitting in my biology class thinking of story ideas when i cam up with an idea. I have written the prolouge and i would greatly appreciate any input any of you may have into this peice thanks alot.
~PROLOUGE~
Ashlin lay on the ground looking up towards the veil of gray clouds through closed eyes. His long white hair was caked in mud from lying on the ground and blood trickled down his forehead. Beside him lay a beautiful young Shamea, her once flowing brown hair was now dripping with water and thrown about her face in a tangled mess. She too lay on her back with her eyes closed. In her hand she held his, desperate for warmth and comfort, but he could not give it to her.
Through the plains the sounds of battle still echoed through the air. The thundering hooves of horses, the clash of sword and shield, and the cries of those in vain were dampened by the rain, but not drowned out. Horses without riders charged rampantly across the plains in every direction, lost and searching for their fallen masters.
Ashlin wished he could join the fallen; leave the turmoil of this world behind, but he couldn’t, after only sixteen years of life. He tightened his grip on her hand, he would never let go he told himself. In his other hand he still held his sword, an heirloom of his family. The blade had been cleaned by the ceaseless rain as he lay there on the ground; all the blood had been washed away leaving the blade as clean and flawless as ever. It was almost as if it had never seen battle. No signs of the lives taken were left to be seen, no stains or notches on the blade.
Ashlin opened his eyes; something was coming towards him. He did not get up. He didn’t want to let go of her hand, no matter what it meant. Enough blood had been spilt that day, his own would make little difference.
“Ashlin!” a voice cried through the rain.
Ashlin didn’t recognize the voice at all and he couldn’t see clearly through the rain. A silhouette of a rider came into view over the nearest rise, though not clear, Ashlin could see that the stranger rode upon the back of a beautiful gray griffin. The mighty creature spread its wings majestically, shaking the water from its flawless feathers. Ashlin often wondered how a creature of such magnificence could be ridden to battle. It seemed in a way unjust.
The rider dismounted beside Ashlin and dropped to his knees. He tore a large strip from his robes and held it firmly against Ashlin’s head.
“Can you get up?” the rider asked. His face was kind, seemingly undaunted by the tidings of war.
Ashlin shook his head. He knew that he could physically get up, but mentally he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
The strange rider left Ashlin’s side momentarily to move over to the girl beside him. He did the same as he had to him. He tore a small piece from his robes and covered her wounds.
“You have to get up,” he said, “there are more of them coming and we must leave this place as fast as we can. We cannot hold of another attack. We are too few.”
Ashlin knew what the Shamea rider was saying, but he didn’t want to leave. He needed her, and she needed him. They couldn’t leave each other. Not now.
Suddenly, Ashlin was grabbed around the shoulders. His hand slipped from hers. He reached out again to grab her, but she was gone. He could no longer reach her.
“Let me go back,” he shouted, “please!”
“We can’t. We will be killed.”
Ashlin didn’t care. He began to cry and sweltering hot tears began to stream down his cheeks. His hands were still reaching out towards her. She was so beautiful he thought as he was dragged along through the mud. He could no longer see properly because rain and tears filled his eyes as he drew farther and farther away.
Ashlin couldn’t recall what had happened in the next while. He felt as though he had been dragged through the gloom for miles when they finally stopped at a small carriage that was drawn by two white horses, heavily stained in mud.
“Wait here until I come back,” said the Shamae rider as he sat Ashlin on the back of the carriage and trudged back to look for others.
Ashlin sat in silent thought on the very back of the carriage with his legs hanging limp over the edge. He didn’t want to go back he thought, not without her. It felt wrong for him to be sitting here without her, she had promised that they would come back together.
As the evening approached the rain seemed to have pity on those below and lightened up a bit. The cool air of the night began to move in and a very unsettling fog lifted from the ground, covering the plains in a sea of mist. A cold wind began to blow from the north and with it brought the scent of the mountains, the home of the Shamae people. Ashlin couldn’t remember a time when he did not want more than anything to be back in the warmth of his house, sitting in front of a fire, with her. He didn’t want to go back now.
The plains were now totally dark. The thick veil of clouds blanketed both the moon and stars, as a result the night seemed to be darker than ever. The combination of the darkness and the thick fog made visibility nearly impossible. After what felt like an eternity, the Shamae rider emerged form the fog for the last time that evening with empty arms.
“There are no others,” he said solemnly, as he pulled himself onto the carriage beside Ashlin, “we best be moving on.”
With a shout the rider sent the horses forward, they new their way home and did not need a master to lead them. They would get them home safely.
“Are you alright,” Ashlin asked. The Shamae that sat beside him no longer looked like the one who he had seen earlier. His face now wore a sign of great sadness, and the hope that Ashlin saw in his eyes before was all but gone. His hair was no longer tidy and well kept instead it was a tangled mess thrown carelessly over his shoulder
“I will be,” he answered very quietly, “when my days are over and this war is through, I will be happy again. Until then I cannot say.”
Ashlin understood, for he felt the same way.
“Where is the griffin that you rode when I first saw you,” said Ashlin, not wanting to make the entire trip home in silence. He needed someone to talk to.
At first he did not answer, instead he looked towards the sky as a tear rolled down his cheek and onto his blue robes. Then he spoke in a hushed voice.
“She was slain, though it grieves me to say so,” he said, bowing his head, “She died protecting me, seeing through her oath to me, I tried to stop her but she would not listen. She took her own life to save mine.”
“I’m sorry,” is all that Ashlin could manage to say. The look of sadness on the young Shamae’s face was to deep to question any further.
“Did you love her,” the Shamae asked, looking up with teary eyes, “the girl, I mean.”
“More than anything,” he answered, “she was my sister.”
so tel me what you guys think..thanks a lot.
later guys
__________________
If gnomes could really exist...i would be one
|
