Jophiel - Writers Forum

Serenade · 07-10-2008, 03:52 PM

1

Through the fiery sands he trudged, half-delirious and unable to escape the scent of smoke and char that clung to his blood-stained clothing. The pain was a distant relative now, dropping in to visit, but only rarely. The hurt within him, the kind that burns the spirit, was another matter. It had taken up residence, and seemed to worm and slither inside him until he felt physically sick.

Or that could just be the poison, the young man mused as he stumbled for the seventeenth time since he left home. He kept count to stay conscious. And to keep his mind from wandering to events past. From time to time, a hot wind forced him to either shield his eyes, or cry involuntary tears if he reacted too slow. He wasn't in the mood for crying and losing what little moisture he had left in his body, so he did his best to be quick. With a grunt, he stopped to take a small rest, and steady his trembling legs.

...hate you, he thought, staring out at the hot, endless desert. Of course it's days before I reach Zerzura. No water. Sandstorms probably coming. All sorts of beasts waiting take a bite out of me. And-

His insides rose, he bent forward, and dark fluid flew from his mouth onto the thirsty sand. He stood straight up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I'm poisoned.

He sucked another breath of dry wind into his burning lungs as he studied the landscape. The golden sands and dunes seemed to stretch on till they reached the sky itself, and his will to walk, which was already nil by nature, was waning. He wished he could drink his sweat and make it useful, as it did nothing but burn his eyes and wounds. And piss him off.

First thing I do when I get through this is kill Kala, the young man told himself before taking a heavy step forward and continuing his trek. He had actually told himself this more times than he could count, but it was one of the only things that kept him walking besides the will to live...in order to kill Kala. He could almost see the son of a bitch right in front of him, sneering. His fist tightened involuntarily.

Something kept occurring, however, that distracted him from his hate-filled thoughts. The young man tried to ignore it, for it was something that had been happening since childhood...plus he really wanted to think about killing Kala. Sometimes, though, the world just seemed to...blink. Everything was it's opposite. The gold sand turned silver and cold, and the blue sky, a blood red. Even the sun itself morphed to a deep, dark hue. It would only be for a second, then everything back to work, as usual. Goosebumps vanished from his brown skin as quickly as they appeared.

He stopped again, breathing heavily. Small, bright circles danced in the back of his vision, and his blood felt hot. The world's light dimmed, as if the sun felt his fatigue and started to nod off as well. I'm not dying, he told himself, standing straight up. A sudden, sharp pain in his side made him wince, the world flashed, and he only had one second to wonder why the sand was rushing up toward him. After that, he remembered nothing except for dreams of an inverse world, where the sky itself bled.

~~~
Color, memory, and...oh yes, extreme pain, they all returned to him arm and arm with vivid intensity. The first was color, a pale, sickly green, the tint of a mother sand-snake's belly, or an old, wrinkled grape skin. The memory that shadowed was of eyes that same shade, and a name he would soon erase from this earth, once he returned to it.

Kala.

He tried to say it aloud, say something, at least, but found his throat so dry and swollen, his head so full of dull, throbbing pain, he simply closed his mouth and groaned to himself. He thought.

"We tried to slip some water into your mouth," a cool voice spoke beyond his vision. "But your lips were too tightly closed, a rare occurrence, I know. So, I've just been dribbling drops on your lips and face to decrease your body heat."

Extreme effort and a momentary disregard for the pain that massaged his skull, allowed him to turn his head to the side and examine the speaker. His first thought was that the woman was kind of cute. Dark hair, dark skin, light-blue eyes. Not bad at all, really, he thought, eying her. His second thought was that he recognized her; Nyala, he remembered. His third thought:

Shit.

He might as well have said the oath aloud, because the woman smiled, putting a hand on his bare shoulder. The contact was pleasant, and it also made Jophiel realize he was naked under the thick blanket covering him. He couldn't help but smile a little.

"You can rest, Jophie. Deliya is back in Kiffam Court, with Father." She put a water-skin to his lips and he parted them, allowing the cold liquid to trickle down into his throat. He drank until the dry fire was extinguished, and he could speak once more.

"Good," he rasped, lying his head back. "I've got enough to worry about without her waiting in the shadows with that blade of hers. I wouldn't be able to run away."

"Well, you did break her heart, you know. A woman can't easily forget that. Especially my sister," she added with a chuckle.

"Yeah. Then she broke my arm, if I remember it right."

"Tears and jeers shadow the games of children, it seems." He heard her chair scrape the stone floor, and turned his head once more. At least it was easier this time. Nyala was standing, adjusting an elegant, violet robe and smiling faintly at him. She always seemed to be smiling, Jophiel remembered. Ever since they were children. Smiling at the world, instead of with it.

"Where are you going?" Jophiel asked, lacing his hands behind his head and lying back. "You're just going to leave me here? Naked and alone?"

"Of course not, but I've taken care of you while you were away, Jophie, and now I deserve a bath and something to eat. I'll have my nursemaids tend you from time to time, to make sure you haven't died, don't worry."

"Thanks," Jophiel said lamely. "How'd you find me, anyway?"

"We were actually traveling to Shailja, to your home, when a guardsman in our convoy spotted that sword of yours stuck in the sand." She gestured toward one of the corners of the room where a dark blade of about four and a half feet leaned.

Sword, huh?

Jophiel squinted at the weapon for a moment; it's gnarled, black handle and pommel, the black blade about half a foot wide, stained with rust the tint of dried blood, and the scythe that jutted sharply at the blade's tip, like the last deadly tooth of some old but still formidable beast.

"Yeah," he said slowly, still eying the thing as he shrugged. "I think my quickest when I'm about to die. Not a bad idea though. Pretty resourceful, I'd say."

"Of course," the young woman shook her head. "I don't think anyone here in Desrali forgot your last visit, when you "accidentally" dropped a few of those laxative leaves into the reservoir." She laughed a bit. "A little disgusting, now that I reflect further on it. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She bowed informally, for she knew Jophiel cared little for the niceties of upper class, and opened the door.

"Nya?" he called, falling back into her childhood name, dark eyes studying the ceiling.

"Yes?"

He hesitated momentarily, unsure of what to say next. What to ask.

"The last time I saw home...it was burning," Jophiel began, the memory fresh in his mind. "Any news?"

She hesitated as well. "Shailja is destroyed. Completely."

"Oh."

At those words, it felt like something emptied from his chest, before the feeling passed. Jophiel closed his eyes. "Survivors?"

"You."

The few seconds of silence were interrupted by a sigh from Nyala. "Get some rest Jophiel. That's all you should worry about for now. We'll talk more when your strength has returned." He heard the door close gently behind her, and Jophiel opened his eyes, letting Nyala's words reverberate in his mind.

Destroyed. Completely.

He didn't know how to feel. He wasn't born there, in Shailja, but he had somehow ended up there when he was a boy, hungry, lost and hot as all hell. For some reason, the chief of Shailja himself had taken him in, raising him as if he were one of his own. The people had accepted him as well, even tolerating his antics and mischief as the village's little troublemaker. For eighteen years, he had grown up there. He knew everyone in the village, and liked them all...except for Kala, of course. Everyone was like family, and now they were gone.

So why couldn't he shed a tear for them? Why didn't he feel the least bit of sadness in his heart? He sighed inwardly and turned over onto his side, closing his eyes. It was...wierd. Even a bit disconcerting. Why didn't he feel something?

HippoHead · 07-10-2008, 04:17 PM

Deserts are never interesting, according to the media. It is something I have learned from movies, shows and games - it is never an interesting place, even when they try to make it epic. This breaks that tradition.

The desert scene was so well written; it felt dry and searing hot. I don't want to go into a gay rant about how it worked so well, so I shall leave it at that. So far, I'm guessing Kala burned down the village? Who knows. Epic stuff.

EternalMyst · 07-11-2008, 04:03 PM

Wow! Good stuff. Nice description, dialogue, characters.

She bowed informally, for she knew Jophiel cared little for the nicities of upper class, and opened the door.

I am the worst at spelling...but is nicities suppose to be niceties.
This is a very good opening for a novel...the little hints that are set up are fantastic...I can't wait to read more.

SparkyLT · 07-11-2008, 04:37 PM

I like the setting, maybe because it puts me in mind of Prince of Persia games, which I am infatuated with. Deserts rock, whatever 'media' says; extremes fascinate me, icy watselands or dry wastelands.

I am so glad I'm not the only one who doesn't use orthodox names. Thankyouthankyouthankyou, but watch out because it confuses some people.

One thing: maybe I overlooked it, but it could do with a little description of the characters? There's something to be said about letting the reader develope their own mental image, but this may not be your intention. I'm just saying.

But all in all I love it. Nice work, give us the next chapter!

Darkness · 07-12-2008, 09:37 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Serenade

First thing I do when I get through this is kill Kala[put this thought in italics], the young man told himself before taking a heavy step forward and continuing his trek. He had actually told himself this more times than he could count, but it was one of the only things that kept him walking besides the will to live...in order to kill Kala. He could almost see the son of a bitch right in front of him, laughing. His fist tightened involuntarily.

Something odd kept occurring, though, that kept distracting him from his hateful [hatefilled?] thoughts. The young man ignored it, for it was something that had been happening since childhood...plus he really wanted to think about killing Kala. Sometimes, the world just seemed to...blink. Everything would suddenly look the opposite of what it was. The gold sand turned silver and cold, the blue sky, a blood red. Even the sun itself had changed to a deep, dark hue. It would only be for a second, then everything back to work, as usual. Goosebumps vanished from his brown skin as quickly as they appeared.

~~~
Color, memory, and...oh yes, extreme pain, they all returned to him arm and arm with vivid intensity. The first was color, a pale, sickly green, the tint of a mother sand snakes [sandsnake's]belly, or an old, wrinkled grape skin. The memory that shadowed was of eyes that same shade, and a name he would soon erase from this earth, once he returned to it.

He might as well have said the oath aloud, because the woman smiled, putting a hand on his bare shoulder. The contact was pleasant, and it also made Jophiel realize he was naked under the think[thick] blanket covering him.

"Of course," the young woman nodded. "I don't think anyone here in Desrali forgot your last visit, when you "accidentally" dropped a few of those laxative leaves into the reservoir." She chuckled a bit, shaking her head. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." She bowed informally, for she knew Jophiel cared little for the nicities[niceties] of upper class, and opened the door.

The few seconds of silence was [were]interrupted by another sigh from Nyala. "Get some rest Jophiel. We'll talk more when your strength has returned."

?

Just a few things that I thought should be fixed. Nothing to do with the way it was written though. I liked its pace and feel although I do have a thing about modern speech in fiction. Its just a small pet peeve of mine.

Overall I liked it and I especially like the protagonist's name. Jophiel. Rolls of the tongue.

Serenade · 07-15-2008, 03:08 PM

Thanks for all the input people, it definitely helped me tighten up the chapter. Working on the next segment right now, so it'll be a couple of days.

Raniegh · 07-15-2008, 11:26 PM

I totally agree about desert scene usually coming across very boring, but your definitely broke that mold. Very interesting hope to read more.

Serenade · 08-04-2008, 07:47 PM

Second part to the first chapter. Still a work in progress, so any criticism is welcome.

1.1

"He is poisoned. See? It's what tints his blood this dark hue." The young doctor pushed thick, dark hair away to reveal Jophiel's neck. "If you look here, you can see that something punctured the back of his neck, and its safe to say that the poison was injected through this wound." He clucked his tongue as he flipped the limp body back over. "Always figured he'd get stabbed," he added.

"What kind of poison is it?" Nyala asked, choosing to ignore the doctor's comment. A lot of the residents of Zerzura knew Jophiel as well as his home village did, and were the victims of his hijinks as well.

"That, my Princess, is something I cannot determine. I'd have to take a sample of his blood back to Al-Haytha, and analyze it there." He studied Jophiel through gold-framed spectacles. "If I had to guess though, I'd say it's the type of poison that debilitates slowly, breaking the victim down bit by bit until a puff of wind can carry him away." He wiggled his fingers, for emphasis.

Nyala raised an eyebrow, light eyes inquisitive. "And what's your reasoning for such a grim diagnosis?"

The young doctor shrugged. "Nothing really, just guessing...maybe hoping. I still haven't forgiven him for switching all my patients skin ointments with rankweed extract, you know." He frowned as he remembered, checking Jophiel's pulse again. "When was he last conscious?"

"Six days ago, when we found him," the Lady answered as the doctor prodded and poked the prone Jophiel. "He drank water, asked of Shailja...he was himself wholly. But, as I told you, he hasn't woken since that day. So I sent word for you to arrive as quickly as possible."

"Then I'll wrap things up," he nodded, turning away from the bed and grabbing his bag. "I return to Al-Haytha tomorrow morning, so I'll take a blood sample and study it there. As soon as he is able to move, he should be taken there so I can heal him...if I have an antidote developed."

"And if you don't?"

The doctor shrugged once more. "He'll probably die. Or be horribly disfigured, I don't know. Either way, he won't like the results." He walked toward the door, stopping to bow respectfully toward Nyala. "Remember, as soon as he is able to travel, bring him to Al-Haytha. He has many physical injuries, though none are as serious as the poison." As he exited the room, he chuckled lightly. "I'm surprised he doesn't have any broken bones, but he did always have the luck of Semjaz."

Nyala followed the young doctor our, closing the door quietly behind her. She made a mental note to make sure no unnecessary noise was made in this wing. It seemed Jophiel would need his rest, if he was going to live.

___________

It was the familiar cold of that other place that awakened his mind, slowly; his breathing, he became aware of next. It echoed loud, albeit calm, in the thick, silvery fog that lolled about him. He blinked.

The other world?

Brilliant, red lightning flashed through the mist, the distant roar of thunder sounding seconds after. But no rain. Just the mist, and the cold dark, interrupted on occasion, by the crimson flashes. He felt suspended in the air; if the clouds below him parted, he imagined he would fall back to earth, streaking from the sky like some some meteor or fallen angel.

Of course. The endless dream. Or hallucination...still haven't really figured it out.

He blinked, and bright sparks jumped into dark and disappeared as two weapons clashed together in his vision, the sound thunder itself. For a moment, the blades were locked, metal screeching as they scraped against each other, straining to gain the advantage. Occasionally, the cold mist would break to reveal the violet sky and dark moon, where the only light came from red, twinkling stars.

The world's night.

A cold chill seemed to shake his mind awake, and he vaguely realized it was he wielding one of the blades, his teeth grinding, eyes narrowed as he pushed his weapon forward. The pale, green eyes glaring into his own are what fueled his hate, his strength, and he kicked the man savagely in the stomach, thrusting the dark blade forward.

It was parried by the man, who immediately swung a thin, golden blade in return, light hair flying. Jophiel deflected the attack and pushed forward, knocking his opponent off balance. Without hesitation, he slashed savagely at the man's sword hand and walked forward as the golden blade spun silently into the dark.

I'll finally be rid of her. No matter what, I'll rid myself of her this night.

Because it was a woman, he knew now, with those narrowed, green eyes that filled him with hate. She stumbled back, eyes never leaving his own as he approached, before lashing out suddenly. He dodged easily, and put a fist in her stomach. With a grunt, she collapsed to her knees as another ruby bolt blazed the sky, but not once did her head lower.

She did smile, though, the corners of her lips jagged in their disdain. "Why don't you come to the light, where everything is fair?" Her voice came from everywhere.

Jophiel blinked, and found himself holding the blade to her, its scythe resting intimately on her tanned neck. A voice replied to the question, his voice...but not his voice. It seemed all around him as well, almost a presence, as he answered.

"Nothing is fair, there. Salvation is endverse."

The dark blade rose and fell, red lightning emboldened the dark clouds, and Jophiel once again knew quiet and dark.

But, only for a moment. Or an eternity. He could not tell anymore.

He walked, cursing inwardly. The mist had been expelled by wind, and the rising of the dark sun. A long, winding line split the silver sand and marked his trail as he dragged the ebony blade behind him. The sun was welcome, for once, because it also drove away the things he saw in the night, in the distance. They looked creepy as hell, and he was glad he didn't have to look at them anymore.

Why do I always end up walking so much anyway? Even my dreams betray me. Where's my dream horse? I'd even settle for a dream donkey.

At least it was a bit warmer, he admitted, trying to improve his darkening mood. The sun was a dark blot in the red sky and the thick, rolling clouds, like ink-stains. He threw his hood back over his head, pulling the thick cloak tighter around him. And at least he wasn't injured, poisoned, and delirious in his latest wanderings.

Maybe still delirious, he decided as he walked toward...? He stopped, sandals sinking into the shifting sand. This was not a dream, he already knew. He bent to grab a fist-full of the silver sand and let it sift through his fingers slowly, shining. Dreams rarely felt this real...plus, the dream donkey wasn't here. The dunes rolled for a moment as another gust of wind touched the desert. Where the hell was he going, anyway?

Something is pulling me. A feeling that I should head in this direction. Don't know why the hell I'm following it, but what else should I do? What can I do?

So he walked.

I bet this is all Nya's fault...

aflickeriinflame · 08-20-2008, 07:55 PM

Cool story...made an account just to comment. Nice description...dialogue can be tightened, but all in all, a good read.