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Overview of the 2nd Book
Preview of the final book
A storm brewed continually over a small mountain peak and so it gained the name of Mount Storm. A mighty warlord once had a great fortress on its summit. The storm eventually drove him out because of floods and fire. On this particular night the storm seemed to be extremely bad, worse than usual, which to the villagers of Freagen, who stared wild-eyed at clouds swirling around the mountain on winds howling at gale force, seemed very much impossible. At the apex, the fortress of that mighty warlord, Garruwan the Great, had been rebuilt. But to the villagers it had been destroyed. None had been brave enough to climb Mount Storm’s turbulent slope. Inside were two men dressed all in black, one was dressed in a black shirt and pants with a black belt, from which hung a sword in a black scabbard with a hilt covered with black leather tipped by a black pommel stone, and shiny black boots. He had a thin leering face with blue eyes and blonde hair. The other wore a jet black cloak with a hood; he held in his black-gloved hand a black staff at its zenith was a round sort of black crystal. This stone gleamed in the dim light of the torches that hung on the wall’s room dark sconces. Beneath the man’s hood glowed two yellow eyes with red pupils. The man with the sword knelt before the other.“Yes Rahune, my servant?”said the man with the red pupils in a voice sounding like the storm outside, harsh, loud, and dangerous, pulling off his hood revealing a gaunt face covered with a beard previously unnoticeable and jet black hair slicked back showing his forehead which was tattooed with strange symbols. “Master, Hestania has begun their invasion of the caves. The War has begun.”He smiled evilly. “So, my plan is working out? Flawlessly?” Rahune nodded. “Morgoth, my patient master, the girl has not yet been captured, but she has been busy running.” He chuckled as if he had made a joke, but Morgoth stood, unmoved, his features which revealed no emotion at all. “Aw, yes, of course the girl from that old hag’s prophecy,” he turned toward the only window in the whole of the building, strode toward it in long slow steps. He observed the clouds circling the mountain. A flash of lightning illuminated his face which now showed one single emotion--determination, a determination to kill the only person who could spell his doom. This girl would be the one who would bear a child powerful enough to defeat him. The child would be the only one who could defeat him the Great Morgoth, Necromancer of the Mandreka Desert. “One woman’s boy, the heir of a great warlord, Will be the one to defeat you.” The boy will destroy your own great horde. This boy will be the One to kill you.” “The royal Hestanian girl shall give him the sword and shield. Its flaming power shall whirl. If she still then walks death will be your reward” He finished with a grin. He laughed maniacally; Rahune joined in. They stopped after a few moments. Rahune bowed and left. He then went to his quarters and fell soundly asleep after listening to the rhythm of the falling rain and the regular lightning which flashed every few minutes. In the morning he and his troops would prepare for their departure. Part 1: The Journey Chapter 1: The Beginning Behran ran with his big leather boots clopping down the cobbled streets. He was late. As he scrambled down the marketplace, he sprang over an overturned cart. He ran bumping into a few of the last merchants tidying up their stalls and taking inventory. He jostled one and was followed by the angry bellows of, “Hey! Kid, watch where your walkin’!” He neared the end of the street and rounded a corner. A figure draped in a long flowing cloak a good many sizes too big and carrying a basket of apples was also hurrying on its way. They fell, toppling over each other, tangled up on the other’s limbs. Behran fell and banged his shoulder on a lantern-topped post. The clang of a shoulder blade and iron echoed through the streets. He hopped up off the ground massaging his injured shoulder. He stepped closer to the person-at least he hoped it was a person and not a “thing”-to help him or her up. The brown figure grabbed the basket up and sprang to its feet. The hood slipped down, off the crown of the wearer. He saw the face of a beautiful young girl with dark skin, green eyes, and long black hair carefully braided in the back to keep it from falling over her eyes or poking from out from the hood. He was rendered immobile stunned by the fact that she was a girl and her incredible beauty. They looked at each other, and their eyes met. The girl looked him over deeply with a very penetrating stare that to Behran seemed to pierce the very fibers of his being. She stopped after a moment and as she did so he blinked his eyes and shook his head “Who are you?” he asked timidly. She answered without hesitation, “I am Andreeka, Draqiss of Hestania, daughter of Gelrond the Drake.”Andreeka said regally. “Why are you dressed so . . . so . . . so bizarrely?” Again she answered without pausing, “I am hiding from my enemies.” She stroked her jet black hair. Behran’s eyebrows rose, “Isn’t that an obvious disguise, milady?” “No, people just believe I am a wandering Priest of some Church.” She grabbed the hood and set it back over her head hiding her face and her emotions. “Would there be any place that I could hide for a few days? I am quite wearied after traveling for . . . well . . . many days.” “Hm . . . ” he thought for a moment, “You could probably, yeah, you could probably stay at our house; it is out of the way. No one would find you there,” and added hastily bowing in what he thought was a very noble fashion,“Milady.” “Thank you,” Andreeka replied then added, “Lead the way.” “Yes milady,” He said bowing again . “Oh, the milady thing is really unnecessary.” “Oh, okay mi– oops sorry,” he said apologizing sincerely. They began walking down the deserted streets in the soft reddish-gold light of the sunset. As they walked, questions flew through the boy’s mind giving him a headache. Who were the girl, Andreeka’s, enemies? Why was she in Dokshore? Is this girl really who she says she is? The answers to all these questions could only be answered by one person, Andreeka. He did not want to seem to pry, so he did not ask her anything. Darkness approached quickly, earlier than usual. Soon they walked by the golden lantern light. Eerie shadows were cast on the walls of the now closed businesses. They walked for a long while not really saying anything at all. CRASH! Something, probably a lantern, fell to the ground shattering into many pieces. Behran wheeled around looking for the thing responsible for his fear. From behind a building he saw an arm and a leg. Then the body the head the other arm and leg appeared. The man, for so it was, loomed terribly ahead. Behran grabbed Andreeka’s hand and pulled her into a dark alley, so narrow they had to walk sideways to fit. They pressed themselves against the wall, hiding in the shadows, still grasping each other’s hands. The man stopped looking around, “I could swear I saw two people just a minute ago,” he said in an evil voice. He pulled out a long curved dagger which gleamed in the pale, gold light. He looked down the thin space between the two buildings. The two shrunk back further in the thick blackness of shadow sucking in and not daring to breathe. “Hm . . . must of been a trick of the light and my mind; I am pretty tired. Aye, that’ll be it.” He nodded his head and then trust the dagger back into its scabbard.He ran down the street in quick quiet steps After waiting a moment they blew out and inhaled in long, deep breaths. They were rewarded with the surprise of many footsteps echoing off the empty structures lining the dark streets. Leading was a blonde man clothed in all black. Following were many other men-at least they appeared to be men–armored in black with black helmets covering their faces. The helmets were constructed in a very queer manner; they only revealed two features: the lips and the eyes, which gleamed palely. Another peculiarity was the horn which protruded from the forehead. They closed their eyes lest the light should reflect off them and give them away. It seemed an hour before the sounds of the marching army and clanking of armor and weapons faded away into the cool dark night. The two came out from the alleyway, which was now much darker than it had when they had entered the alley, breathing deeply. She fell into his arms, still a little scared. Behran put his arms around her for a while. “Oh no,” Behran whined, pulling away, “My parents are going to beat me.” “Why? Are you late?” “Yes, very late. I was supposed to be back before sunset and now look at it,” he replied griping. “It is dark now.” “Will your parents really beat you?” He sighed, “No, but they will be mad.” “Then let us go quickly then!” She exclaimed pulling him back onto the long avenue by the hand which she still had clasped tightly in hers. “Lead the way.” “Okay,” he remarked so red in the face you could tell he was embarrassed even through the thick dark shadows. “What is wrong?” she asked. “Nothing . . .” he said. “Is it me still holding your hand?” she laughed in a voice as clear and cool as the night. “Uh . . .” Behran remarked now even redder. “It is. ” she laughed again and let go. “Uh . . .” He laughed insincerely, rubbing the back of his head. They walked home in silence for most of the way. Andreeka gave Behran an apple; for that he thanked her. They tread on the path as quietly as they could, for now it was getting late. Andreeka looked up at the stars marveling at their great beauty. “Look at that!” she exclaimed pointing up at the sky. Behran tilted his head back. He followed her finger and saw the thing that she was pointing out to him. A shooting star he thought. Its beauty surpassed all the other stars in the sky. “Wow!” gaped the boy. Then the fiery object dive-bombed straight toward the earth. There was a giant explosion and light illuminated the sky. Then the object blazed again and flew up for a moment it hung in midair then it disappeared. They both wondered at this queer event and searched the sky for a sign of it. What they did see was the hulking form of a far-off dragon speed across the moon. Andreeka cringed at the sight; she hid, couching behind Behran. “L-L-Let’s go.”she managed to stammer. Badly shaken Behran nodded in agreement. They again hurried down the road Behran in the lead. Later, in pitch blackness, they arrived at the hut built a little way from the city. They ran over to it. Behran pushed the door open. His mother ran in calling, “Behran is that you?” “Yes.” he sighed rolling his eyes; his mother hugged him. She pulled him into her slim dark arms. “You are very late young man.” she scolded him. “I am really sorry mom.” Behran answered. “Don’t tell me; tell your father.” “Okay, where is he” “ He’s in the bench room where do you think he is. He is far enough behind in his carving.”He started to walk away, “Wait, who is this?” “She’ll tell you; I have to change a bed for her, she will be here for a while.” “Which bed?” his mother asked her eyes twinkling. He sighed, “ My bed.” “And where shall you sleep?” “ On the floor I guess.” He started toward his bedroom, but his mother stopped him in his tracks by grabbing him by the shoulder. “Your father is waiting for you in the bench room.” He turned toward the bench room door. He stepped through listening to the chatter of his mother and Andreeka at work talking. He turned his gaze past all the hand carved benches with burgundy flufferix down stuffed pads. The down came from the family’s own flufferixes. A flufferix was a fluffy white-feathered animal smaller than a cat, that was round except for the small feet that protruded from the under side; on its front-end were two eyes and a mouth with sharp pointy teeth that were used to catch, kill, and eat its prey. Its diet consisted mostly of small rodents, birds, and bugs. Its favorite was mice, so it was kept as pets. Its down is extremely soft, even more so than almost any other animal. It was used in pillows and padding etc. The only drawback was it started to stink after a couple of weeks and needed changing every so often. He looked upon his father. The man in the wheelchair for some reason unknown to him.Whenever he asked his father would always say in his low rumbling voice, “There will be a time when all secrets will be revealed.” His father spun his wooden wheeled apparatus to look at Behran. He let his hands rest on one of the six handles protruding horizontally from the wooden wheel. “ Boy,” he remarked sternly in his loud, deep, husky voice, “you be needin’ to learn to come home on time.”- He stared at the ground. He then muttered still looking at his grimy toes, “Yes sir,” “What is that you just be sayin’?” he said smiling, “ you needs be talkin’ a little louder.” “Uh,” Behran said, a bit louder this time. “You still be sounding like a flufferix, quiet as can be.” He remarked again in his booming husky voice. Even louder, “Yes, Father. I will be home on time from now on,” “Now there’s a good boy,” he turned away then quicklywheeled back and added, “ You can go now. C’mon now; run along,” At the wave of his father’s strong hands, he left the room. He walked down the hall and opened a door rounded at the top with a small knocker on it. Finally, he was in his room. He stretched himself lazily on his bed, forgetting for a moment the whole reason he was there. Sorry for any formatting errors it is formatted right on Word Perfect 9 but it is hard to format correctly on the Internet. Clayne Zollinger III
