numai.stea

Well, it has been quite awhile since I have posted on this website. Last time, I had some boring, slow work that was well-written, but did nothing to capture readers. Hopefully, things have changed for the better. This is still untitled, if anyone can remember Khalais--or was it just Kalais back then? Anyway, that was the title, but there was quite a fuss over that, so now it is untitled. Notice, however, I have kept the name, and I will not get rid of it. I am attached. Enjoy, and any comments are encouraged and welcome.

Chapter One

She sat straight-backed in her throne, her chest aching with every breath. Her eyelids were heavy, and her body was weak. She feared that she would not be able to stay strong any longer.

There was blood all around her. Bodies lay on the ground, and the once clear air carried the very smell and taste of death. She could hear the screams of her people from outside her throne room, and these screams made her want to cry. They made her feel useless.

What kind of leader was she? She was tied to her own throne, forced to watch the people closest to her defend her, and fall.

Fall, into puddles blood.

She coughed, and her insides turned and ached. She was sick. If she did not make it…if she died…

Suddenly, the room lit up with a fierce red light, flashing off the walls with a loud snap. She winced, and held her head high. At the other end of the throne room, the large doors slammed open, letting in a sharp, cold wind. In the doorway, stood a man she had seen often enough. He stared at her with gorgeous yet cruel blue eyes, his face upturned in a vicious sneer. He walked towards her, his movements graceful and full of intentions.

“Khalais,” he called out to her, his melodious voice booming. She said nothing, but stared at him with hatred. She tried to move her arms for not the first time, and again failed. He reached where she sat, and hovered over her, looking down into her face. His expression was soft, yet sordid, and his silky dark hair blew madly around his face in the wind. She looked him over, her eyes wide. His bare chest was covered in blood, yet he had not a wound on him.

“This could all be over,” he told her gently, getting to his knees. She looked into his eyes, but could see only enmity. She said nothing, and indeed, his voice became full of rage.

“Khalais, don’t be stupid,” he yelled at her, striking her across the face. She gasped out in alarm, but managed to keep her composure.

“Just give me the wand,” he said quietly, “and we will leave. We will let you live.”

“Oh?” she said, her voice filled with doubt. She glared at him with hate in her eyes. “Yet once you have the wand, you will in turn come back.”

“Indeed. However, the point is, you will be alive.”

“But I will not be free. Nor will my people.”

“How do you think your people will fare if you die? If I kill you, right now? Are you too proud to think of your people for a change?”

“I am always thinking of my people, and you know it!” She snapped, her body shaking. “I refuse to just hand them over to you to be used as puppets! To be treated cruelly, and not be free to even express their own feelings!”

He slapped her across the face again.

“Feelings are dangerous, your highness. They’d be better off.”

“My people would rather die with me.”

In an instant, the man pulled a knife from his boot, and pressed it hard against her neck. She tensed.

“That can be arranged,” he told her, piercing her skin barely enough to draw blood. “You give me the word, and I’ll have you all dead.”

“I give you the word,” she said harshly, staring into his eyes. She saw his teeth clench, before he pulled the knife away from her neck. Surprised, she watched as he turned his back to her, and glided out of her throne room. The doors slammed shut behind him, and the wind settled and vanished.

He let her live.
What did he have planned for her? Desperately, she looked around, hoping against all odds to find some way to escape.

She had to escape.

“Khalais…” she heard a voice in her mind. Startled but not surprised, she closed her eyes.

“I have failed,” she whispered. “I cannot escape.”

“And I cannot free you ,” the voice replied. “Have you prayed?”

“More than I can remember.”

“Then someone will come to help you. I promise.”

She opened her eyes, and looked around again. Nothing was different. It was still a bloody, cold, and threatening throne room. She groaned, and her chest burned with pain.

“Your highness,” she heard a voice say. Her blood went cold. She looked around, but could not see anybody.

“Who goes there?” She said, her voice nervous. In reply, she heard the most peculiar sound in her ear—like an insect, buzzing beside her. She wanted to swipe it away, but could not. Then in that same ear:

“I have come to save you.”

“You?” she said, completely confused. Her fear began to rise. “Who are you?”

“I am Dyna,” said the small voice, and the buzzing left her ear. Fluttering into her view was a tiny figure, with wings that moved quicker than those of a hummingbird. The figure was a tiny woman, and the queen’s eyes rose in amazement.

“A fairy!” she gasped her words, and the little fairy nodded. “I thought you had all died!”

“No, we can hide ourselves well enough. I see that you can’t. I have come to
help you.”

“Oh please, please!” Khalais said hurriedly, struggling in her seat. The little fairy landed on her tied wrists, and began cutting at the rope with a tiny sword of her own, the size of a pick.

“And do hurry,” Khalais insisted, looking frantically to the doors. She feared that the vicious man would return.

“Notice my size—I can only go so quickly,” said the fairy woman, Dyna, moving as quickly as she could. Khalais bit her lip, and watched the little woman struggle to get the rope cut. She began coughing, and couldn’t control her heaves and lurches.

“Heyloa, please keep still!” Dyna said slightly aggravated, before looking up from her task. The fairy gasped in terror as blood began to cough out from Khalais’ mouth, and she fluttered up from the wrists to look Khalais in the face.

“Your highness, are you not well? Are you sick?” she placed a tiny hand on Khalais’ cheek. Khalais nodded.

“Well then—I best hurry,” Dyna said, and fell back down to the roped wrists. She cut and cut. It took much effort before she could say: “Your highness! I do believe I have weakened it enough. Pull free!”

Weakly, her chin and neck stained with blood, Khalais tugged her wrist upwards, and the rope tore completely. She reached over and undid the rope that held her other wrist. Both her arms were free, and she felt a new sense of hope. Though she hurt so much, and felt so weak.

She managed to untie her ankles from her throne within a few moments, and stood up. She wobbled, and could barely keep her balance.

“Your highness—Khalais! You will be fine, no? You are free! And now, you must escape!”

“Yes…yes, I must. And you, little fairy, you must come with me.”

She knew she had to escape. They were murdering her, and her holy race, the elves; she had to get away. They would search for her. They would notice her absence, and they would hunt her down.

“But…but I cannot leave my people,” she thought aloud, and Dyna buzzed in her ear.

“Yes, but what good are you to them dead?”

The dark man had said the same thing. Khalais nodded, and stumbled away from her throne. She had to step over the bodies that were laying everywhere, and her bare feet squished in the warm puddles of blood. She began to cry.

Cefor

Interesting... as a reader I want to know more about the reasons behind the attack.. you have an effective hook here, now use it.

Be careful that you don't become clichéd in the use of fairies and elves and things. Also btw what race is the Queen? I'm guessing human but I can't be so sure with the mention of the murders of the elves.... so yeah I guess I'm quite interested in your story.

Well done and keep up the good work.
Cefor

__________________
Knowledge is Power

numai.stea

Thank you for the comment. I understand the problems today with elves and faeries, and my intention is to be original. The queen is supposed to be an elf…I’ll edit and see if I can make it more clear. Thank you, again.

Stea.

numai.stea

Chapter Two

He bowed to his queen, who sat loosely on her throne. He glanced at her only once, and then looked away, noting the anger in her expression. He knew that she was probably aware of what he was about to tell her, and he decided that the best way to deliver the news was bluntly.

“Milady,” he said, keeping himself low on one knee, his head down. “Khalais escaped. I had her trapped within the castle. We have reason to believe that she used the wand to flee the realm, which means—“

“Which means,” Milady finally spoke, and he lifted his head. She stared down at him coldly, her dark eyes hard. “Which means that you and your men are completely incompetent. How difficult can it possibly be to keep hold of a sick woman?”

“Quite difficult, if you don’t mind me saying so. That ‘sick woman’ is a favoured elf.” He glared back at her, standing himself straight.

“I do mind you saying: it is not your place to say.”

So he said nothing.

“You are strong, brave, and handsome, Ichani. However, if you weren’t my brother, I’d have you gone.”

“Why, thanks for your kindness,” he said bitterly.

“You’re ignorant, and blind. Your men are the same. However, do not fret, you pretty thing…I have a plan.”

The two were located in a large and grand throne room, the walls made of cold metal and the floors of black marble. Dark, strange designs were painted all around the room with an eerie red substance, and black scarves and flags hung from the ceiling, blowing fiercely in a cold wind. Milady’s throne was against the back wall, upon a high platform, and she had to descend five steps to reach Ichani. Ichani stared at her coldly as she came to him, brushing a slender hand against his bare chest. Her touch was cold, but as was the air, so he did not shiver.

“I have a plan that will surely guarantee me the realms,” she whispered into his ear from behind him. Her breath was warm on his neck, and he closed his eyes.

“And this plan?”

“Come.” She grabbed onto his arm with one hand, and gripped her metal staff tightly in the other. It clinked loudly on the marble floor as she led him out to the balcony overlooking their dark realm.

Everywhere, there was blackness. The distance was hidden in a cloud of nothingness, and the sky was merely a swirling mass, threatening only to the imagination. Dark mountains protruded everywhere from the land, their tops disappearing into the oblivion that was the sky. Directly down below them, he could see a small city, where block-shaped houses lined the roads, identical and parallel to each other.

Ichani looked at Milady; his sister; his queen. Her long, full red hair blew madly in the cold wind, and her large, dark eyes stared at him hungrily. She bit her full red lips, and looked him up and down. He ignored her.

“This plan?” he repeated, stepping away from her. He despised how her clothing did next to nothing to hide her full curves and young figure. He despised how she hungered for him, how she loved him. He despised her, completely and totally.

“The plan,” she said, taking her eyes off him. She waved her hand over the balcony, and then pointed down. He followed her finger. Down just below them, were three people, sitting together in the darkness of the city on a bench, as if waiting for something. Ichani looked at his sister, confused. She smiled.

“They are dead humans,” she told him, slight excitement in her voice. He remained confused and asked that she tell him more.

“The elf obviously escaped into the Realm of Time, and these three are from there. They died recently. They matter, because they were great evils in the Living Realm. I summoned them here, and they are waiting for me.”

“I see,” he said quietly, not nearly as excited as she clearly was.

“Humans,” she explained, “are plain. They are stupid, powerless, and until now: inessential,” she grinned, her expression menacing. “They do hold some potential…if they are used properly.”

Ichani said nothing in reply. He watched as Milady twirled her staff above her, waving her free hand before her. The rails of the balcony vanished, and from the high balcony appeared a staircase to the ground, barely visible, but enough to draw the attention of the three figures. Milady walked down the steps, her movements graceful and seducing. Ichani followed her.

“Humans,” she said to them once on the ground, her voice harmonious, yet hissing. The three figures watched her, saying nothing. “I know your race to be daft and thick, but I have certain matters to discuss with you: matters, I am sure you will want to have part in.”

“Are we dead?” asked one of the humans. It was a male, and he stood up from the bench before her, his face contorted with rage. He seemed to be very young. He had dark, shaggy blonde hair that fell heavily into his face. Milady chuckled.

“Of course you are. The death-dealing fiend does not survive the deathly punishment he is dealt. Don’t you find it hard to keep your head on straight?”

He began to reply, but she snapped at him so harshly just then, that he fell back onto the bench where he had been sitting:

“Pay attention to my words! I am your queen now, and you will worship me as your ruler. I have chosen you three for your skills.”

She looked over the three humans she had summoned to this spot. The first to have spoken sat on the bench, only now he paid precious attention to how his head was situated. He did indeed appear to have difficulty getting it to stay balanced on his neck where it belonged. He growled to himself, ignoring Milady almost completely.

The other two were more calm and composed. One sat beside him to his right, a female, her arms rested casually on the back of the bench. She had long golden hair that flowed down her pretty face, and stared at Milady intently, as if watching for any sudden movement. She was extremely pale, and was not at all bothered by the rope marks that glowed around her neck.

The last male stood on the other side of the female, and stared blindly into nothing. He faced off into the distance, his milky white eyes unblinking. His white face was nearly hidden by his long black hair that hung damp and limp down his shoulders.

All three of them wore large heavy cloaks, and they did indeed give Ichani a sense of foreboding. Milady must have sensed this, for she smiled at him before continuing.

“Your realm is ruled by a great family: the Tyne family, gifted immortality by the Gods. I am fully aware of that. I am also aware that your realm is divided into provinces, and these provinces are ruled by…not as powerful families.”

“We just came from there. We know all this, and care not at all if you are aware or not,” snapped the female, her expression cold. “Where do we come in?”

Ichani could not help but smile at how this angered Milady, but she managed to keep herself calm and continued, ignoring these words.

“I happen to have special sight as to what the Gods are up to, or what they have done. They happen to feel pity for your realm, to make up for paying next to no notice or care for it. For, they have decided to empower the new generation of the royal families. The generation that has, as of yet, no authority. Innocent and ignorant, if you will. Fortunately for you, there are only two young royals that fit this, so that makes your job easier. “

“Our job?” spoke the female again, leaning forward in her seat. “Why should we do anything for you”

Finally, Milady lost her patience. “You have no choice. I am your queen, and I will take your life away, and you will know pain you have never felt before.”

“Are we not already dead?…Is that not what you said yourself?” spoke the third, who had remained silent the whole time. He did not turn his blind gaze away from the distance, and he spoke slowly, his voice dull.

“Indeed, but I can take away the life I have yet to give back to you.”

The three went silent once more. Milady went on.

“I want that power. You will bring that power to me, and I will grant you with eternal life.”

“What will you do with this power?”

“You never mind such questions,” she said plainly. “You bring those two humans back down here. Now, that is only one part of your task. I want the empress—the Tyne. She has a great power I need. I am forced to stay here, but her power will let me pass all that and walk freely between the two realms.

“Finally—this job was not originally yours, but a little mess-up has forced me to put this upon you—we have had an escape from one of our…captives. She is from the third realm. Which you humans—as thick as you are—should know to be the home of the elves? I need that elf, for she has something very important to me. Bring me the elf. That, I believe leaves you with four targets.”

She turned away from the three humans, her eyes twinkling madly. She leaned into Ichani’s face, and whispered, “I shall leave them to you, now. Do not fail me again.” With that said, she brushed the side of his face, and began walking back up the steps to her balcony.

Ichani looked away from Milady, and looked at the three humans. They stared at him, waiting. He started to speak, but the female broke into his words with her own.

“I want to know where I am,” she said simply. Ichani raised his eyebrows.

“You know where you are.”

“I know I am dead.”

“Then you know where you are.”

“The Dead Place?” said the younger male, finally content with his head. He leaned forward on the bench, his eyes wide. “This is the Dead Place? It seems quite…plain.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Dead things…monsters, demons.”

Ichani rolled his eyes, and turned back to the balcony. The staircase had vanished, and the railings were back in place. Milady was nowhere to be seen.

“This realm is much like your own, you know. Notice that there is a city. I am no demon, or monster. Nor am I dead.”

“Yes we see that,” said the female. ‘Indeed, your people are quite astounding. We don’t have people in our realm who look quite as grand as you.”

Ichani understood what she meant. The humans, as he could see, were anything but stunning. His own people—the Emmatoir, the immortal race of the Dark Realm—had features that glowed with a strange beauty, being blessed and cherished by the Goddess Namysis. He explained this to the humans, who seemed displeased with what he said.

“Namysis? She is the goddess of death.”

“Yes. This is her realm, created by her before she became a god. She departed with the other gods, and this realm was left to her children.”

“So,” started the female, “We know that the Elves were gifted through light and chosen by the goddess of life, and now, the Emmatoir are gifted through darkness by the goddess of death?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. What about us? The humans, the mortals? Who gifted us?”

Ichani found his opening, and smiled.

“No one. At least, certainly not the Gods. Does that anger you?”

“I must admit, it does,” said the female, her expression hard.

“Good. The Gods angered Milady, and she wishes to get revenge upon them. You were chosen to help her. What have the Gods ever done for you?”

“Nothing,” the three admitted together.

“Certainly. And you were banished and sent from your realm, were you not?”

“We were.”

“And now, the dark lady, she offers immortal life to you, in exchange for your services. Do you consent?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Ichani said, “now we’re getting somewhere. You have four targets, and I will tell you where to begin. The empress, Tachana Tyne, is where you will move first. Bring her back here.”

“It would be a pleasure!” spoke the young male, his eyes flaring. “It was she who removed my head from my shoulders!”


“Ah!” said Ichani, almost happily. He found his sister’s excitement beginning to flow through him. “And you are?”

“I am Romez.”

“And I am Kathryn,” said the female, standing straight. “I was hung in Chals, and would love nothing more than to bring that province to ashes. This is Kirby,” she pointed to the other male, who finally appeared to give notice to the others, “and he was killed personally by the Liborus King.”

“Excellent,” said Ichani, “I see you three are angry. Well! Bring forth the empress! There are two princesses you need to bring next, dead if need be. One—for your own revenge, silent Kirby—is the daughter of that king. The other is the princess of the Nemotria province. Bring them, during your search for the elf.”

“And when we find the elf?” said the female, Kathryn.

“Bring the elf straight. Milady now wants her alive.”

The three nodded to each other, standing at this point, in understanding of what Ichani said. He smiled triumphantly. Already, these humans had a bold respect for him, and would do whatever he said of them.

“You three will go back to your realm. However, you will only be partly living. Milady does not want you to forget what you owe her, so you will keep your marks of death.”

At this the young man, Romez, groaned. His head, it seemed, would not be replaced solid onto his neck and shoulders.

Ichani said no more. He placed his hands together and focused. A bold, red light flashed from his hidden palms, lighting up the area around them. Once the colour had become a glow, Ichani opened his hands, and waved the glowing palms towards the empty air beside them. Instantly, the red light left his hands and stuck to the air, as if there was an invisible wall. It turned into a solid substance, and seemed to melt down the air until it formed, indeed, a wall.

The new wall glowed and flashed, releasing its own cold wind that outdid that of the realm’s. Finished, Ichani pointed to this red portal, and the three humans understood. One by one, they ran into the portal against the wind, vanishing from the realm.

Cefor

Cool chapter, it's got great potential. Keep going with the story and you will have an excellent piece of fiction

Cefor

__________________
Knowledge is Power

Jade M

I think this is very good, you have avoided all of the cliches nicely. The storyling is interesting.

Nice story, and I hope you post more.

Athnephiel

I would like to say: I'm hooked.

great potential for a story, though I don't think there was much of a description for the Emmatoir. I'd like to see you continue this!

__________________
Beware the impending zombie invasion.

numai.stea

I'm glad I have so many readers and fans...it means a lot to me. This story has been taken apart so many times. It's completely different from what it used to be! I hope you all keep on reading, and i'll try not to let you down. Thank you so much for the comments.

Stea.

__________________
"Jog on, jog on,
the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry-heart goes all the day,
your sad tires in a mile-a."
--Autolycus A Winter's Tale

numai.stea

Chapter 3

The Talyth Inn often had its dry spells, for Orem was not a very busy village. However, this time seemed even worse than ever, as Adam read over the accounts. The inn was in debt. They had not enough customers—therefore, not enough money—to keep up with the inn itself and all it took to keep it running.

As he wrote down all of the inn’s expenses, he tried to come up with some reasons as to why visiting had decreased so much. Usually, people stopped through before their journey through the Anokian forest, on their way to the province of Roguen. Alternatively, people stopped after coming through the tiring forest on their way to the Golden city of Nemotria. Recently, it seemed that no one came from the Golden City towards Roguen, and few people came from that neighbouring province. Was there something the matter in Roguen?

Adam sat alone in his room with his logs and accounts. His father was stressed from low business, and Adam was afraid of what would happen to him if business did not pick up. Adam was so busy with his thoughts and concerns, that he did not notice his family’s kind servant come into the room.

“Sir,” the servant said softly. Adam looked up from his logs, slightly annoyed at the interruption. However, he smiled gently at the small man who stood before him, half the height of Adam himself.

“What is it, Sanquart?”

“A roll, sir. I was told to take it straight.”

“Oh? Read it to me then.”

The servant shifted uncomfortably in his position, fiddling his small, rough fingers through his straw-like hair. He had never been asked to read before, and he was not sure how to respond. Adam’s eyes went wide, and he placed down his quill.

“Come! Can’t you read?”

“Well, um—sir, I was never learnt.”

“Truly? Can you write at all?”

“No, sir.”

“Can you even spell?”

“Well—no, sir,” Sanquart said, shamefully. Adam stared at the small man in amazement. He had thought he had known the servant well, and was surprised to learn of this. He felt pity for Sanquart, but could not shake the heavy embarrassment he felt for both of them. Sanquart must have seen this in his eyes, for he quickly looked away.

“Well, just leave it with me then,” said Adam, attempting a smile. Sanquart gave Adam the roll of parchment, bowed his head, then left. Adam watched the poor man leave, then turned his attention to the rolled parchment. He opened it, and read what was written:

To a master Adam Talyth,

Meet me at the Orem spring in the Anokian, during the moon-hour. There are important matters that need to be dealt with, and I wish to keep this private. Bring the ring.

What disturbed Adam the most was not the mention of ‘important matters’ needing to be ‘dealt with’, though his ideas of what ‘dealt with’ could possibly mean did indeed make him nervous. It was not the fact that at the bottom of the message, instead of a signature or name as a signature, there was the royal crest drawn in fine red ink. None of this: it was that this unknown writer had told Adam to ‘bring the ring’. How could this person—a stranger, he was sure—know anything about Adam’s inventory? Even if he did happen to have a ring, which he did, how would this person know, and why would this person care?

He looked down at his forefinger, which held the ring Adam was certain the words spoke of. It was a regular ring, as far as Adam was concerned. Plain and silver, it shone not with beauty, but with age. Adam would have preferred to be rid of it, if it had not come from his grandfather right before the man died.

“A family treasure,” Grandfather Talyth had said. “Generation to generation.” Adam had not been close with his grandfather, but he knew him to have been a good man. Any encounter they had had been pleasant, so Adam wore the ring out of respect.

However, what that had to do with anybody else was beyond him. Therefore, knowing that the moon-hour was not long off, he made his decision, and packed away all of his writing materials.

“Sanquart!” he called out, knowing that the servant would be only in the corridor outside his room. Indeed, the man came quickly, and appeared to be still unsure about himself.

“Sir?”

“Prepare the horses. We will ride tonight.”

“Mind if I ask where to?”

“The forest.”

“Is this regarding the letter?”

“No questions. Speaking of which: did you happen to recognize the person who gave you the roll?”

“Not at all, sir. He was a complete stranger.”

“It was a he, then?”

“He who gave it to me. Someone else could have written it.”

“That’s true.” Adam nodded to his servant, who nodded back.

“It shan’t take long,” Sanquart assured him, and Adam told him that he knew it shan’t. The small man left for the stables, and Adam fetched his cloak.

-----------------------

The three dead humans appeared in their original realm, exiting the portal into empty grassland. They looked around them, observing their location. It was calm and quiet—not a creature in sight.

Romez, realizing that he had in a way, survived his beheading, began to whoop and holler with happiness. Kathryn tried to keep him quiet but he refused to heed anything she had to say.

“Are you not excited?” he said to her loudly, stretching his limbs.

“Of course I am,” she snapped, “but I’m not one to prance around like a court’s fool.”

“I am, so accept it.”

“Besides, we have work to do, before we can even consider enjoying ourselves. This may not be permanent, you know.”

“Sure,” he said carelessly, brushing his dirty, shaggy hair with his
fingers. Kathryn suddenly raised her voice in alarm.

“Romez! Your head!” she screeched, pointed at him frantically. In all the excitement of his prancing about, his head had loosened. A long, fine line circled around his neck, and from it, blood began to pour. Romez had not even seemed to notice. He cursed to himself, and held his head with his hands.

“Is it coming off?”

“Yes, yes it is! There is a lot of blood!”

Romez wiped his neck with the sleeve of his robes, then smiled at her.

“Better?”

She said nothing. Romez adjusted his head’s position, his neck making gross and fleshy sounds in the process. The image was just gruesome, and Kathryn had to turn away.

“That is impossible,” she said to herself. “One just cannot be alive with their head not attached! It simply must be painful! ”

“No pain! There’s the power of the Dark Lady!” Romez yelled happily, clapping his hands. Kathryn groaned, and placed her hands on her own neck. It burned to trace her fingers along the rope marks, and her throat felt permanently cut off and pinched. Yet, she was alive. Frowning, she turned to her companions.

“We have work to do.”

“Aye,” said Kirby, his slow voice dragging through her ears. “We are here, in the province of Diohai, where the empress is sleeping.”

“Oh?” said Romez, his voice taunting, “and how do you know this, you blind brute?”

Kirby tilted his head to one side. “I can smell it.”

Romez made mocking sniffing and snorting sounds, before laughing at what he believed to be his own funny joke. Kathryn glared at him in disgust, but he paid no attention to her. Finally, he composed himself, and stared off into the distance.

“I know this place,” he said bitterly, pointing to a large castle in the near distance. “That’s it. The empress lives there. We are in the courtyard now. That’s where they killed me.”

Kathryn followed his gaze. The castle was superbly large, and they were close enough that it towered over them, blocking out the moon and its light. Kathryn smiled. No light was an advantage to them.

“She sleeps in that tower,” Romez continued, his tone serious. It made Kathryn nervous how quickly he could change his composure. He pointed to the nearest tower, and Kathryn realized just how perfectly they had been placed for this mission.

“Very well then,” she said, “we climb the tower.”

“Yes,” said Kirby, “I shall keep guard for you.”

“But you can’t see,” protested Romez, his childlike tone coming back. Kirby faced him.

“Indeed…but my other senses are heightened where you could never believe.“

“It’s settled,” said Kathryn, before Romez could further his argument. “You and I will climb the tower, and Kirby will keep us covered.”

It was agreed. The two men nodded, and the three made their way towards the castle—Romez skipping excitedly in the lead, Kathryn just behind him, trying to keep him quiet, and Kirby trailing silently behind.

It did not take long for them to reach the tower, but the climb itself for Kathryn was very wearisome. She was much more skilled in climbing than Romez was, and she had to stop every few bricks to wait for him. They did it as so: both had a knife in each hand. They would stab one knife into the cracks between bricks and marble, until they found a stable hold. Then they would hang from that, and repeat with the other knifed hand. Kathryn was much quicker, and if she got too far ahead, Romez would call up to her. Kathryn thought Romez yelling was a very bad idea—so she stayed back with him.

Meanwhile, Kirby stood at the bottom of the tower just beneath them. He stared nowhere, but his ears listened intently for any sounds other than the two people above him. As if the entire night was planned perfectly in their favour, Kirby heard nothing that would mean danger for them. He smiled to himself, and leaned back against the brick wall.

“Kathryn!”

“Romez! For our own sake, keep quiet!”

“If you wouldn’t move so quickly, I wouldn’t have to—“

“Seal your lips, you imbecile!” Kathryn said, nearly losing her hold. She tried to keep her voice down to a whisper, but found it difficult through her frustration. She looked away from the struggling Romez below her, and to the ever so near window above her.

“Whatever you do, don’t fall,” she said down to Romez. “I’m going to enter the tower.”

“But—“

“But nothing. You won’ t miss out.” With that said, Kathryn quickened her climb, and made it to the tower window. It amazed her how there was no guard around the tower. Then she thought that since they opened portal in the courtyard, maybe they had avoided all of the heavy guard. Foolish, really.

Stabbing her knives into the sill, Kathryn lifted herself inside. She landed on the floor silently, holding back her sigh of relief. She looked around the room. It was very bare. There were no tapestries, nothing glorious at all. Was this even the right room? There was a large bed in the center, with plain bedding. Plain everything.

To her surprise—and she almost gasped—beside the bed stood a small girl. Wide awake, staring at Kathryn with piercing eyes. There was nothing to express shock or fear in the girl’s expression. Kathryn became nervous. If she had been a small child and someone had suddenly appeared in her room, she would have been terrified.

The girl had long black hair that fell limply over her shoulders, and she wore a plain, long white sleeping gown that was completely shapeless, without even a bow. The only thing that gave her away at all was the empress crest that appeared to be scarred into the girl’s forehead between her gazing bright eyes.

“Tachana Tyne?” Kathryn said to the girl, her voice and expression full of confusion.

“You are Kathryn, yes?”

Kathryn looked at the child, her eyes wide. This could not possibly be the empress. She appeared to be no more than ten years old!

“I am the empress,” the child said, as if reading Kathryn’s thoughts, “and I know why you are here. I will not resist you. There are no guards.”

“Why are there no guards? Why not resist?”

“Kathryn!” came Romez’s voice from behind her. She spun around. He had made it to the window, and stood on the sill breathless, waiting. “Grab her, and come!”

Kathryn hesitated still. This was only a child.

“I am Tachana Tyne,” said the little girl. “Do you doubt me?”

Kathryn bitterly said nothing. She turned back to Romez, who she assumed to have personal experience with the empress.

“This is the empress?” she said to him, her voice doubtful. Romez glared at her.

“I never seen her! Are you grabbing her, or not?”

Kathryn was too slow to reply, and Romez jumped from the window into the room. His movements were vicious, and for a moment, Kathryn feared for herself. However, he pushed her out of the way, and stared fiercely at the little girl. She spoke before he could.

“I am the empress, and I am responsible for your execution, Romez,” she said coldly, her expression determined. “For you are a horrible, disgusting man. You deserved death.”

He growled, and grabbed onto the child’s hair. She gasped out in pain and alarm, but her face showed no fear.

“You little wench,” he snarled at her, “when the Lady is through with you, I will ask to personally have my way with you.” He cackled, and brought the girl’s face up to his, licking her cheek. Kathryn’s stomach turned, for to her, the empress was merely a child. This seemed to have no affect on Romez whatsoever.

“Lets go,” Romez screeched, running towards the window. He dragged the empress by her hair behind him, hooting in sadistic pleasure. Kathryn almost felt pity for the girl, and then she remembered what she had to do. She followed.

numai.stea

There is something I feel isn't right about my work. Is it moving too quickly? Am I throwing out too many characters right away? This story ended up bumped onto second page...there must be something turning off readers. I think that may be it. Comments? I was hoping to post up more.

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"Jog on, jog on,
the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry-heart goes all the day,
your sad tires in a mile-a."
--Autolycus A Winter's Tale

Athnephiel

Hm... I kind of have the feeling that there isn't much detail at all in the third chapter. The dialogue seemed empty because I couldn't see them doing anything durring that time.

Is it just me?

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Beware the impending zombie invasion.