Okay, a little explanation and history, if you will, before I get started. This fanfic is in the universe of Minecraft, of course. However, there are a few slight changes. First of all, there is magic, as you might have guessed. Secondly, people have figured out how to harness the creeper's gunpowder to create flintlock-type muskets and pistols, as well as cannons, although the cannons will be fairly rare. Third, I will introduce a some new creatures, plants, minerals, tools, and so on and such.
Also, I am not completely sure about the title of this. I may change it, and I may keep it. It all depends on if I get a new idea for a title, or if someone suggests an alternative title.
Also, sorry if the line spaces between paragraphs annoy you. The Minecraft poster turns all indentations null and void, so the best I could do instead was just to space the paragraphs, because I am no fan of great walls of text. If anybody has something to tell me, or an idea, about indentation, please tell me.
Well anyways, I think that is about it, so...
Prologue
Dear Cecina,
To understand who I am now... what I am now, you have to understand something. I didn't want this. Not after I figured out what it really was... what it really meant. It was all a big mistake. We went too far. We discovered what we shouldn't have. He lured us in... tricked us. He was going to... turn us all. But when he discovered my Spark... he tricked me once again. He told me of what he and I could accomplish. What I could attain. I was already muddled from his earlier illusions, and the ones he used on me then were... slavery of the mind. I wish I could be free of this prison, yet I am in the Flintlands. So many twists of rock, so many false caves that lead to nowhere or death. The Shauders prowl everywhere, the vile beasts. Pray that you never see one... they are all that is unclean, personified. I feel as if all my hopes and dreams have been blown away, like ash on the wind. But yet, I feel that I can not give up hope. Yes, he may have turned all of them but me, yes he may have taken my freedom, and yes... he may be forcing me to learn his... art... but I feel that I may be able to escape, and cleanse myself of his aura, his stench. That hope, that chance, is but a thin thread, but if the thread happens to be dangled in front of me, I will take it. I will charm this with Wynd, in hopes that it will get to you. Don't try to write back. It is hopeless.
Sincerely,
Jonathan
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Er, yes. The sincerely part is in the center. I couldn't figure out how to get it to the right and stay there. If anyone has any idea how, please tell me.
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Chapter one: Creeper in the Square.
I slowly flipped through the book, gazing in wonder at the pictures, and reading with interest the words. Could Torchklin, my home, have such a history of excitement and adventure behind it? The Great Wall of Torchklin in particular had an interesting history behind it. The yellow-hued stone that made up most of the wall came from the Great Mine of Diamondvale, a place of great industry.
Right between Torchklin and Diamondvale was The Crack, aptly named if you consider its status being the biggest canyon that anyone has yet mapped out, a huge obstacle by all means. Yraveyul, one of the great founders of Torchklin, realized that the movement of stone between Torchklin and Diamondvale needed to be anchored to one safe, secure route. Thus, the Railway of Tears, named after the sheer amount of laborers who died, due to either falling into The Crack or being preyed upon by the monsters, was made. It took 5 years to build, 2 of said years spent on bridging The Crack, using titanic amounts of wood and iron.
The great bridges of The Crack are legendary. A village, more like a small city, in fact, popped up at the great bridges, creating a much-needed pit-stop. The city was named Cordtug, and grew full tilt due to all the trade fed to it through the Railway of Tears. People come from far away lands, even lands across the Stonesea, to see the great bridges, arcing into the sky like frozen rainbows, and their impressive display of flags. The yellow emblem of a torch over a red backdrop, the flag of Torchklin, an coal forge over a grey background of stone, the flag of Diamondvale, a great picture of a bridge over a purple background, the flag of Cordtug, and last, but certainly not least, the picture of an obsidian pick and a diamond pick crossed in an X formation over a black and green striped background, the flag of Aemark, the empire.
Torchklin, Cordtug, and Diamondvale formed what people called The Arrow, due to the peculiarly straight direction of the Railway. The Arrow was the center of the empire, which expanded northeast until it hit the natural border of the Stonesea, named after it's vicious maelstroms that contained waves that felt like stone battering rams, and the not-so-natural border of Mlrick, another empire.
My virtually subconscious page-turning and daydreaming was precipitously interrupted by a voice... my mom's voice.
"Jonathan! Get dressed! You know what day it is!"
Oh yes, I did indeed know what day it was. It was Saga Day, the day where your dreams are either made or broken. When a citizen turns fourteen, if they have not been offered an apprenticeship by someone of a various position yet, they will be in the Saga Day. On the annual time of the third of Skelter, the sixth month in the fourteen month calendar, Saga Day was held, always in the same place, which would be the small but imposing and very aged Tairk tower, which used to be a watchtower when Torchklin was just a small town, but as of this time and age the walls had been pushed MUCH farther out, around eight miles.
I snapped onto my feet like a hoe would if someone accidentally stepped on the metal part. Hastily closing my book and laying it aside, I turned around and looked for my bag, my eyes roaming around the room as if they were searchlights. My room was by no means large, but it certainly was not small either. There was my bed, in the same place as it was when I first slept in a room of my own, my bedside table, more just a smooth piece of wood lain onto two sharp, splintery wooden blocks, and my four foot tall dresser, still varnished-for the most part-after eleven years
A-ha! There it was, lying under my table. I ducked down and crawled underneath my table, going closer to the wall as I went. How did my bag get so far under here? I shrugged and retrieved its bulky frame, pulling it out by the straps. Once it and myself were clear, I hoisted it up by the strap and slung it over my shoulder. I staggered forward a few paces because of the sudden increase of weight on my back, but quickly righted myself.
Smoothing down my hair as best I could, I swung open my door, stepped forward onto the stairs and... fell into nothingness. I remembered that my mother was getting the stairs renovated and that I was to use a ladder attached to the wall that led straight up under my doorway in the meantime. Funny how you remember important things when it is too late to do anything with them. Just another way daily life seeks to screw you over. I looked down, bracing myself for the six foot fall when I remembered another something. My room was on the third floor of our tall, but narrow house.
Now it wasn't just a matter of being stunned for a few seconds and then going on my merry way, now it was a matter of pain and possibly being impaired from going to Saga Day. Being as I was inside my head, my thoughts reeling and racing through my mind like a rail-cart gone awry , it was surprising that I didn't cry out. Now would be about time for the air to cushion my fall...
Of course I was just trying to take my mind off the inevitable when I thought that but... instead of a sudden pain, a completely free broken ankle, I felt like I actually fell onto cushions. Real nice ones too, all plush and velvety. I savored the relaxing feeling for a few seconds before BAM! I started falling again... and fell a foot, landing on my behind.
I sat right there on the floor, just staring forward, my eyebrows creasing in confusion. Eventually I stood up and looked behind me at where I fell, where I languished for a few seconds on imaginary cushions. Nothing was there. I swiped my arms through the empty space, and felt nothing. Odd. I swiped my arms through the air a bit more but again, felt nothing.
As luck would have it, my mother walked into the room just as I was swiping my arms through the air. Just another way the world is against you.
“Er... Jonathan, what are you doing, exactly?” My mother inquired, and I stopped mid-swipe and turned around with a big blush on my face.
“Ah... nothing. Just... moving the air. It gets a bit stale in here, right?” I explained meekly, and not eminently well. Most likely because I didn't precisely know what I was doing either.
My mother raised her eyebrows at me, before turning around and walking out of the stair room, which the rest of our semi-circular house was built around. I followed her a few paces behind, thinking about that odd fall. Maybe I just got lucky? Maybe... but maybe not.
Sighing, I raised my eyes up towards my mom. She was in her festivals best, her white buttoned blouse complementing her black vest and dress. My mother was into that shiny black and white style, often wearing genial and sometimes even elaborate clothes while others of her age would either wear a simple brown dress or shirt and pants, depending on the job. I followed her in the circular route to the living room, and then to the entry hallway.
Only my mother would be accompanying me to Saga Day, for my only other sibling, my sister, Malei, worked as as a carpenter up in Diamondvale, and my father was a miner, which usually meant a decent bit of time working every day. A sudden thought popped into my head, a thought I admittedly didn't like. At Saga Day, you could be picked for any time of job. Even ones that took you out of the city you currently resided in. Even though I was fourteen, I still wasn't at all comfortable with being separated from my parents.
“Mom, don't I have a chance of being taken up by a job that takes me... out of here?” I voiced my concerns, staring intently at the back of my moms head as we walked into the entry hallway.
“What do you mean, Jonathan?” She replied, turning her head to cast a glance my way.
“I mean... being chosen for a job that will take me away from Torchklin? As in, away from you and dad?”
She paused for a second, but then got walking again, her soft-soled shoes making a particularly soft pattering on the wooden floor.
“It's unlikely. Although most positions do send a representative to Saga Days everywhere, so most of the time you never know...” She paused thoughtfully again, this time for a little longer, and I just about bumped into her before she swiftly started up again, as if she had a stuttering coal engine inside of her.
I let out a soft hmm as my mom opened the door, brilliant yellow light flooding the entry hallway as if the door was a broken dam. I averted my eyes from the sudden light and followed my mom into the open air. Sweeping my eyes across my immediate surroundings, I took in a fresh breath of air. Torchklin was a large place, but thankfully Tairk tower was close enough for us to be able to walk along the cobblestone sidewalks that lined the cart system that ran along the middle of nearly every street in the city, instead of taking a cart. And so we started the boring little walk to Tairk tower.
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About halfway through the route to Tairk tower, is Crafte plaza. It gives the impression of a cozy rest stop, giving several benches to sit on, its elaborate mosaics glittering in the morning sun and several food vendors setting up shop along the walls of nearby buildings. Here me and my mother stopped to buy a pork-bun, the meat of a pig wrapped in bread. I rolled my eyes as I thought of all the ways chefs and cooks used meat in cooking. Pork-on-a-stick, pork-bun, pork-wrap, the plain pork on a plate, messy sauce-pork, spiced pork, mushroom fried pork, the list goes on and on.
Slowly chewing on my food, I stared at the mosaics of the square. There was a central sun, and seeming to radiate out from it were mosaics of animals, famous people, tools, minerals, famous buildings, and some interesting landscapes. I noted with a small smile a mosaic of The Crack, and then right next to it a mosaic of the great bridges.
My thoughts fleetingly turned again to the notion that I might be chosen for a job that would take me out of Torchklin. If I was picked for such an occupation, would I get the chance to see The Crack? The great bridges? I could only hope, wait, and see.
An interesting question arose in my mind like a cork in water, one that I was surprised had not arisen sooner.
“Why is this day called Saga Day?” I asked my mother, turning to glance at her for a second before looking back at the colorful mosaics.
“Because of Aeritmatel, because of her saga.” She glanced at me with a curved eyebrow as if saying, Surely you have heard of her?
But in-fact, I had not. Of all the books I'd read, I'd never heard of someone named Aeritmatel. Attempting to dig a little deeper in my mind, to perhaps unearth a forgotten memory of some kind about Aeritmatel, but nothing appeared.
“Who is she?” My mother's mention of her had sparked curiosity in me, and this curiosity had grown to become a raging inferno in just a few seconds. It was decidedly common in me. And then I saw something in my mothers eye, a glint, a glint I had became to know every since that first story my mother had told me when I was just a tot. A glint of excitement, of adventure, of all things wondrous and amazing.
“Aeritmatel, as you might have guessed, went to Saga Day, back then called Choose Day, the same as you. She was chosen by someone... particular. A representative of a group. A group people now known as the Brizdengild.”
I blinked in surprise. Brizdengild... that one word was enough to send my mind twirling away on vivid visions of ventures and commotion. The Brizdengild were an elite group, clan, cult, whatever your preference. They were a rowdy, but amazing group of horror-hunters, and the word 'horror-hunters' alone is enough to make someone give respect to them. A person, or more usually a group, is only given the title of 'horror-hunters' if they are hardcore, dedicated, best of the best monster hunters.
“But... why her? I mean... why would the Brizdengild choose someone from Saga Day? That's like... a god choosing a baby as it's champion...” I, perhaps a little to passionately, voiced my question, as I faintly perceived a few people look at me.
“Well you see... she was a Glow.” I immediately understood why she was picked on Saga Day by such a prodigious group. A Glow is a person touched by the... glow of magic. A Glow is a name given to someone who is imbued with a medium-amount of magic. Glows were substantially rare (Not even to speak of their older siblings, Sparks and Radiants), and they, along with Shines, Sparks, and Radiants, were the only ones who could do magic. The ability to do magic is so unusual and useful that it was no surprise why they were so sought after. Nodding, I motioned for my mother to continue.
“Anyways, she was chosen for the Brizdengild, and in the span of the next weekssssss...”
My mother's face abruptly turned very pale and her gaze was no longer on me, it was on something a bit over my shoulder. And then I realized something else. Most of the s's that my mother supposedly made were not her own.
In a panicked flurry I spun around and there was a.... creeper.
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Chapter two: The Decision of the Saga
Sure, I'd seen pictures of creepers in books, on posters, in paintings but... it couldn't quite prepare me for seeing one for real... Those eyes... obsidian-dark, abyssal holes just staring and staring, right into you. I'd always scoffed at why so many people couldn't get away from creepers before they blew, I mean, how hard could it be? Just run away. But it turns out it's much harder to even do anything when you have those eyes staring at you...
Time was in slow motion, just me staring at the creeper for seconds which felt like hours, and then suddenly everything snapped into high-drive.
The creeper pushed up on me, and I could hear the infamous hissing that the creeper was famed for. I heard my mother scream something which I couldn't discern as I, seized by something I couldn't understand, reached out with my hand to touch the creeper. Then, something... a bit disturbing happened. The moment my fingers brushed the creeper's green, sticky flesh, it felt like I was struck by lightning. A great shock spread through me and I felt like I was the very essence of energy. With a roar of power in my ears, I disconnectedly watched an amazing glow spread throughout my whole body before coming together at my left shoulder and moving as a radiant, golden band further up my arm, into my hand, into my fingers, and into the creeper.
With a great blast as if a cache of TNT had ignited, the creeper was blasted away from me, it's four, stumpy legs flailing before it crashed into the wall at the far end of the courtyard and slid onto the floor, staying there for a few seconds before doing a surprisingly acrobatic move and jumping up onto its quadruped feet. It just stood there, staring at me for a few seconds, with those horrible, unfeeling eyes. Maybe I should I have run right then, but if you were me, you would regard the word 'petrified' with more respect. And then something I'd never heard of creepers doing before happened.
Its eyes pulsed red, then pulsed again, as if its eyes were oil lamps flickering in the wind. They pulsed and throbbed for a few seconds more before becoming more stable, and then it charged. It moved so fast, faster than I'd seen any normal human being run, but then again, this thing was not human. I barely perceived anything other than faint gasps and muddled words as it slammed into me, knocking me into the air. I expected to be slammed into the ground at any moment, but then I realized that it was still in power-charge mode, and was keeping me aloft as long as it kept moving. A hissing arose in the air, an inhuman and disturbing hiss, like some kind of demon snake.
It felt like minutes passed as the hissing grew louder, but in reality it was only seconds. As the hissing grew into a juggernaut of sound all around me, as if I was drowned in hissing snakes, I noticed something odd. A barely-noticeable silvery hue was growing to consume my vision, it's shimmering and faintly glowing light forming itself into what looked like scales. I glanced down at myself and saw that the argent scales were spreading down my whole body, covering me like some kind of shield... shield... I barely started to realize what the sterling shimmers were before the creeper exploded. I reeled in shock, although looking at it I shouldn't really have been surprised about the explosion, considering that I had just been charged by a creeper.
I was stuck in a dreamland of colors, flashing lights, and odd and what seemed like otherworldly sounds. I heard several screams, female screams, male screams, even what I think was my own scream. Focusing my eyes, I looked straight forward into a tunnel of smoke, fire, and light, a tunnel that seemed to be getting farther away and more narrow by the second. Then everything sped up and my vision was enshrouded by smoke and fire at the same time as I felt my back slam into a hard surface.
My head snapped back and I felt it slam into the wall, yet I experienced no pain, the same for all the other parts of my body that had slammed into the wall at what must have been terminal velocity. I shook my head as I felt someone grasp my arm, hindering my slide down the wall a bit. I looked up as the smoke dissipated, straight into the face of my mother. I felt her arms thrown around me as she spoke, her voice shaky and scared but not yet sounding like she was crying.
“How are you... how did you... you're alive, you're not dead!” She pulled back from me and looked at me all over, her eyes hard with that steely look of searching, of that 'I-don't-care-just-let-me-look-at-you” that all mothers tend to get when their children get hurt.
After a few minutes of this, she stepped away from me and started at me in disbelief.
“You're... completely fine...” My mother stared at me like I was some kind of exotic, strange animal.
Not processing anything completely yet, I dizzily responded.
“I... am?” My eyes fluttered for a second and I shook my head vigorously. I picked myself up slowly, taking a large breath of air. Glancing at my mother, I saw on her face a look of utter confusion mixed with relief. I was about to say something to her when I realized the reason my mother was so confused. A creeper blew up in my face and I survived. I survived! That which was impossible, me being here right now, was somehow real and true. Breathing a little faster now, I spun around and looked at where the creeper had exploded, causing a large crater in the beautiful pictures of the square. I bended over as a wave of nausea swept over me and I teetered on the edge of a panic attack.
Several yelling voices pulled me out of my river of whirling thoughts and confused senses. Looking up, I saw that it was the voices of several Streetguards, a half-milita and half-city guard group that watched over the many streets, squares, and plazas of Torchklin. They mostly just dealt with riots and public brawls, although occasionally monsters had come up from the sewers and other dank and dark places. Speaking of sewers... I swiveled my gaze to the bench where me and my mother were sitting before we were... interrupted... and saw the source of all the trouble. A smashed open, half-circle sewer grate right up against the edge of the wall, in which several Streetguards were peering into.
“Seems like the blasted bugger came up through here...” muttered a man with a admittedly impressive mustache.
“We might need to get reinforced grates and do a sewer sweep to clear out the monsterfolk,” another responded as he toed the edge of the opening to the grate.
“It's bloody hard to do a sewer sweep, you know that right? So many nooks and crannies, and so dark,” the mustached Streetguard countered. “It will take a while for us to get a sewer sweep up and running. We got lucky this time... really lucky,” At this the mustached Streetguard stared at me intently, pure curiosity in his eyes. I glanced away with my brow furrowed. I too wondered how I had lived that encounter, and it seemed to be that the same question was in most other people's minds, since I felt many eyes on me.
“Alright everyone!” A Streetguard cried out to everyone in the square. “We are sealing off this plaza! It would be in your best interest to move away from this area!” I stood watching the Streetguards pace around and speak to each other for a little while, still in shock from the creeper encounter, when my mother grabbed my arm and tugged me away.
“Come on, Jonathan. We need to get going if we want to make the Saga Day,” she urged me on. “It won't pay to miss it.”
I slowly nodded once, my mind in turmoil over what had happened not ten minutes before. It was obvious that I had shielded myself somehow, and that those weird silver scales were the shield, but how? Only magicians could do something like that, and even the most powerful Sparks only had their powers unsheathe themselves at around the age of sixteen. Perhaps some random wizard or witch had charmed me? I didn't see how that was possible but... it was the solution that made the most sense. Taking a deep breath, I briefly thought about asking my mother to continue the story of Aeritmatel, but I was a bit too shaken up to want her to continue, and decided to just swim among my own thoughts.
---+++---
My mother looked up at Tairk Tower, the same time as I stared down at my feet. Now that I was so close to Saga Day and being chosen by someone, the feeling of it all had gone from excitement to dread. Lagging a little bit behind my mother, I pondered over all the possible outcomes of this day. Would I become the apprentice or under-apprentice to a stinking butcher or tanner? Would someone choose me to become a simple news-boy? There was just so many non-preferred outcomes to this event, it was unbearable to wait for. If I was to spend the rest of my days cleaning up the intestines of a pig in a chop-shop, at least would it come faster!
“Hurry up Jonathan!” my mother had glanced behind her to see if I was still there and had noticed me slowly dragging my feet across the ground, several paces behind her.
Biting my lower lip, I jogged up beside her just as she reached the large doors to the tower. Casting my attention upwards, I beheld the tall tower. Made of marble it's circular floors rose up into the air, before thinning into a small lookout tower at the very top. The first floor had no windows whatsoever, oddly enough, but all the floors above that had sometimes near-panoramic views. Some of the windows of the many floors were clear windows, some were gem, and some were crystal. I rested a hand on the smooth, sleek and stout marble, pushing softly against it. The white walls looked so fragile, so easily breakable, but in reality they were as thick and stalwart as all but the most tenacious haven-houses.
My mother rested a hand on the handle of one of the doors and heaved it open, the midday sun streaming in with all the paradisaical radiance that light possessed, giving a gold-like shine to every surface as we walked inside. Dimly-lit torches were anchored to several pillars, spluttering and wavering as wind rushed in from the outside world. My mother spun around and slammed shut the door, and just like that, the golden luster on everything disappeared and a dim atmosphere prevailed.
Shrugging off a slight chill, I walked beside my mother towards the center of the room and the central staircase. I did not like the discrepancy between the wonderful room that showed itself when light was inserted, and this crepuscular, gloomy room that was full of nebulous shadows and near-extinguished lights. I dragged my left hand through my hair lightly as my mother and I marched up the stairs, and up, and up.
“What floor is Saga Day on, exactly?” I asked my mother. It felt like we were ascending miles.
“Let's see... there are eighteen floors in Tairk Tower, and I believe Saga Day is always held on the ninth to tenth floors,” my mother explained as we reached a sign proclaiming the floor we were on as the sixth one.
“Not far now...” I acknowledged as we walked past the sign.
“I remember when my sister went to Saga Day...” my mother mused as we reached the eighth floor.
“Was she chosen for a good craft?” I inquired at my mother.
“Oh, I'd say she enjoyed it...” there was a sly smile on my mothers face. I pressed for more information, but she was unyielding.
I was about to urge my mother to tell me again when we walked into the ninth floor, and I was taken aback. There were so many people bustling around the room, it was unbelievable. Soldiers, masons, craftsmen, cooks, I'd even spotted what I believed to be a few wizards , all undoubtedly representatives for one group, guild, workplace or another. Chairs were set out in rows of crescent-moon shapes all centered on a large stage and podium. I pulled back a bit when I saw this. I did not expect the judgments to be so public. I did not want to eventually go up on that stage, in front of anyone who happened to be here. I was almost about to step back down the stairs before someone caught my eye... that someone being a wizard, in a sharp white dress suit, complimented by a black vest with several pockets, with many of said pockets bulging with mysterious things. A stylish and I assumed useful monocle-like contraption adorned his right eye, a contraption that caused a constant ticking sound that dived and ascended through the octaves, sometimes near-silent and sometimes loud enough to annoy.
I could this because of his significant and vibrant sun-shaped badge pinned to the shoulder of his suit, the sign for all wizards. Sure, there were lots of sub-castes of wizards and classes, but most wizards did not have the symbols indicating anything specific. Better to keep any enemies you come across guessing, as many people liked to do. His eyes alighted when he saw me for some strange reason, and he swiftly hurried over to me.
“Hello my fine sir!” he grinned at me as he stuck out his hand. I regarded it tentatively for a few seconds, a little wary of sudden strangers, before I shook it. As I gripped his hand, I experienced the oddest feeling, that of something like a jolt. My hand tingled a little bit, but the oddest part was the wizard's reaction. I guess he felt something too, because his eyes widened and he took a few steps back as if something was overwhelming him, before he gained back control and a massive beam took over his face.
“Welcome indeed to Saga Day!” he shook my hand much more vigorously, still with a stupidly large smile on his face. I glanced over at my mom, and saw that she was in deep conversation already with someone who appeared to be a blacksmith.
“Er... hello,” I spoke back. “Who are you?”
“Efilious Revter, Evoker, Myrth-class, pleased to meet you!” I gulped. This man was an Evoker, and Myrth-class at that. Evokers were all-out offensive wizards, and only the most experienced and deadly Evokers were in the Myrth-class, named after myrth, the extremely violate and dangerous mineral that resided in vast labyrinthine caverns far, far below the ground. If extracted correctly and tempered with certain chemicals, it would become usable. It could then be made to create weapons of unparallelled sharpness and strength, that would actually burn the area around whatever they cut into. And these were just the most immediate and recognizable properties of myrth, the ones you learned in your average Minerals and Mountains class. A dangerous mineral, indeed.
I responded with the first thing that popped into my mind, a question that I had pondered over whenever I heard of Myrth-class Evokers.
“Why are Evokers of the Myrth-class named after myrth?” I blurted out, and the large grin on his face was quickly replaced by a devilish and a bit unnerving smirk
“People say Evokers magic strikes with the ferocity and power of exploding myrth, and you know how powerful that is.” I shrugged. I did not actually know how powerful exploding myrth was, and again curiosity urged me to ask.
“Well, I don't really know how powerful it is. About as strong as... several crates of TNT?” I took a guess, hoping that I guessed right. Guessing something right gives you a strange feeling of satisfaction, I've found.
“In a small border-town named Bevum, the mining guild there found a huge vein of myrth. Or rather, a novice miner found it. He ignored all the safety regulations that had been taught to him and attempted to mine the myrth. Do you care to wonder what happened?” The same wicked smile resided on his face.
“The miner died and a small cavern was formed?” Honestly, I did not think that myrth was all that powerful, although I did not know the truth... yet. I had a feeling I was about to find out.
“The ensuing explosion ripped throughout the underground. It reached it's burning hands all the way up to the miners' halfway station, and killed every miner in there, which happened to be the last of them. As the explosion lost power, instead of completely destroying the stone, it instead funneled up through the natural holes in the rock, eventually finding way to the surface. Great bursts and eruptions of fire and heat burst out all over the landscape, rushing out from the cave tendrils that reached the surface,” at this I noticed what looked like a glint of fire in Efilious' eye. I shifted uncomfortably as he continued.
“Bevum was built over a extensively wooded and cave-ridden place, which meant a lot of mini-volcanoes going off everywhere, and a abundance of trees catching on fire, unfortunately for the people living there. The blasts of flame coupled with the spreading forest fires actually sucked most of the oxygen out of the air and the people living in Bevum were unable to breathe as their houses caught alight and added to the inferno.”
I was sufficiently intimated and now understood the power of myrth, and asked Efilious if that was the end of Bevum, a fiery, suffocating death. He gave a little chuckle and shook his head.
“Unfortunately, no,” I blinked in surprise at the unfortunately. What could be more unfortunate than what Efilious had just told me? “The people of Bevum were not to die at the hands of the heat and fire, but instead to a combination of things. You see, the explosion of the myrth created a colossal cavern below Bevum. Bevum was also unlucky in the fact that they were built near a tectonic fault. The myrth-explosion destabilized this fault and the surrounding land. A elephantine earthquake started up and shook the ground, and the burning land around Bevum started collapsing into the ground. It must have been a spectacle, giant bonfires falling into immense caverns below the ground, a true vision of The Nether on earth. Eventually, so too did the land that Bevum was centered on crash into the ground and the massive cavern that was caused by the myrth. No one survived that day, bar a talented wizard who cast a teleportation spell on himself and appeared far away in some area of wilderness, where he was later found by a group of hunters. He was took by them to a city named Irio, where he later trekked to Torchklin. There, he, inspired by the great fires he witnessed that fateful day, decided to become an Evoker. I am guessing that you know who that wizard might be.” He winked at me and turned away as a man with a voicecaster, a magical contraption used to easily project your voice, called everyone to sit down, somewhere in the large mass of chairs. Glancing at him momentarily, I looked back at Efilious only to see that he had disappeared. Shrugging, I looked around for my mother, and, spotting her, trotted over to her.
I followed her dutifully as she picked about the seats and chairs before finding a place she decided would suit her and sat down. Sitting beside her, I looked up at the stage as the man welcomed all for coming. He mentioned food and refreshments on the tenth floor, told everyone how the selections would work, and then declared that Saga Day was underway. I disliked the way that it was to be carried out, as it was very public, and almost like an auction. Sagees, as people liked to call the kids who came to Saga Day to be picked for a profession, would be called onto the stage where various people of various occupations would observe the Sagee and decide whether they wanted him or not. It was a first come, first serve thing. Whoever called out to the Sagee first, would get him or her first. Not a very good system, if you ask me.
With a smash of a wooden hammer on the podium, the man controlling the whole affair called out the first name on the list, a girl named Revee Banks. A short, stout girl, by the looks of her, she was quickly called out by a mason, and off she went to stand by the podium and get a special pin, signaling that she was chosen by some masons. With a satisfied smile on her face and a shining pin on her lapel, she went to sit down. Pausing momentarily to do what I supposed was crossing a name off a list, the man called up another person. And so it went. Girl after girl, boy after boy, kids, all of the age fourteen, would be called up the stage and picked over by the various professions. Some went to sit down with smiles, and some with frowns. Not once was a person not picked, which I guessed was a good sign...
Time seemed to pass too quickly, and I soon heard my own name called out.
“Jonathan Verit!” With a heavy sigh and a pounding heart, I stood up and walked onto the stage. Standing there, I waited. I quickly picked out Efilious in the crowd and saw that he was staring intently at something which he held in his lap, a book by the looks of it. Glancing up, he spotted me standing on the stage, and with a snap of his book he made to stand up and call out my name. Why did he call me? Was I made to be a wizard? I shied away at the thought of being the apprentice to an unnerving wizard, for whatever reason. I possessed no magical skill. However, all my thoughts were unfounded, for this was not to be. Suddenly noticing another person standing up, I was horrified to find that that person was a soldier, and that he had stood up before Efilious. All my thoughts of reproach to being the apprentice to someone such as Efilious were blown away in the wind compared to being a soldier. Soldiers fought in battle. Soldiers died, most of the time painfully.
In a petrified horror, I watched as the soldier called out, right before Efilious was about to do so.
“He seems strong enough, I'll take 'im,”
Efilious's eyes widened in surprise and he glared at the man of military. He called out right before the Saga judge was about to.
“I object!”
The gruff and gravelly soldier shifted his eyes over to Efilious and raised his eyes in silent question.
“What do you need him for? Your a wizard. Want him to carry your papers about your party tricks around for you?” The soldier sneered. Glaring at the soldier even fiercer, Efilious responded with something that befuddled me.
“I need him for reasons you wouldn't understand. Reasons that would dumbfound someone such as you!” The soldier did not take the insult well and his voice quickly escalated into yelling.
“Oh really?! Reasons I don't understand?! Well how about this! We need him to upkeep the safety of this land. What supposed unknown 'reasons' can trump such an honest and good-intentioned one?”
“It... ah! Just... you have plenty of other people to thicken the lines of your military! Choose someone else!”
“And why should I do that? What is so special about this Jonathan Verit?” At this I saw that Efilious was clenching his fists and snorting with anger.
“Would you believe it if I said that Jona-” Efilious's voice was cut short as the Saga judge banged his wooden hammer on the podium and called out to everyone. I had wondered why this hadn't happened sooner, but I guess that people weren't used to people fighting over a mere Sagee.
“Wizard! I'd suggest you stop your self. Rules are rules, and the soldier has called out to us first! They will take Jonathan Verit!” I was remarkably surprised that the man did not even think to ask which occupation I would like to go to.
“I don't know what is so special about Mr. Verit here, but he will be taken up by the military!”
At this the Saga judge banged his gavel once more and all fell silent. As I slowly trudged toward the podium to grab my pin, the full realization of what happened hit me, more so than before. The military had their boot-camps and main training bases up in Diamondvale.
I was to leave my family.
----+++---
Chapter three: The Barkmen
The passenger-car's rattling provided a constant companion to my own thoughts. My nervous, sad thoughts. I understood that I was to go up to Diamondvale, and that in itself was not too bad at all. I would get to see The Crack and the great bridges, and other famous landmarks, and maybe even see my sister Ateira. But... I was going as a soldier. That completely switched things around. It was like the difference between going to a courtroom as a judge, and going to a courtroom as a criminal.
After Saga Day had ended, me and my mother both went home and took up the task of preparing for the journey. I was required to be in Diamondvale in the span of a weeks time, and it would be best if I set out a day after Saga Day. These were instructions that had come in a letter that the recruiting soldier had gave to us, right before we left Tairk Tower. I could sense that my mother was sad on the inside, but she kept up a constant stream of encouragement, about how I could see my sister, make new friends, and learn skills that would be very useful later in life. I brightened a little at all these good points, but the main fact was still there, as unmoving as a mountain. I was now in the military, and the military fought against all types of things. Sure, the army usually kept trainees out of most engagements, but you only needed a little training before you were considered experienced enough to serve in most battles and occurrences.
Bandits, monsters, soldiers of other nations, barbarians from the Flintlands, and sometimes even rogue wizards. The dangers were just too much to list. I glanced down at my meager amount of luggage, a backpack where I kept most of my personal items and a medium-sized leather bag where I most of my clothes resided. I liked that arrangement, for it was less to carry and easier to manage. The same could not be said for most other people in my car. The car I was in was not packed quite to full yet, but there was still a decent amount of people, all sitting on the red leather seats and either fiddling with their many bags-I even caught one woman who seemed to be carefully observing all twelve of her bags in a specific order, and frequently-, looking out the windows at the dark night, reading a book, or some other action one would do when you're on a long, boring trip, which would describe the trip between Torchklin and Cordtug perfectly. I personally had gotten bored of reading my same old history and adventure books about two hours into the trip, and had opted to look out the window at the varied and increasingly more wild landscape, at its lofty, towering trees, at its picturesque and near opaque ponds, and all the other majestic visions that nature had to offer.
Right now, the train was going through an increasingly savage wooded area, an area that seemed to set a good amount of people in my car on edge, judging by the increasing amount of people who started doing things such as biting their nails, itching the back of their neck, or tapping their armrests, windows, or lap. I too had a notably bad feeling about this area, a feeling that I could not shake off, a feeling that seemed to dog me like a hunting dog silently stalks a chicken. The tenebrous and oppressive forest seemed to nearly swallow the train whole as the trees reached their ebony, jagged branches over the train and onto it, and soon a subtle, distracting scratching permeated throughout the air as branches dragged on the top of the train.
What happened next just seemed so expected it was comical, considering the landscape we had been traveling through since an half-hour ago. A pfwhoup sound, one that you would hear when you blow through a straw to launch a berry or other rotund object out the end of it, only voluminously more sonorous. The next moment, an object which looked like a small barrel, reinforced with strips of metal, crashed through a window near the front of the train. People screamed, I ducked down, thankful that I was sitting in the back and not in the front, and then the barrel exploded. I watched in horror as a middle-aged man, maybe around forty-five years old, was caught in the explosion and blasted out of the window which was right next to him. He flew out of the train and slammed into the trunk of a tree on the opposite side of the train in which the barrel had come in from. He did not rise again.
A young man, perhaps a swordsman in training, rapidly poked around in his bag and pulled out a thick, short, and wooden contraption out of his bag and held it in his hand. With a click of a button, the apparatus shifted, wooden panels moved, and a thin metal blade rose out of the fist-sized mechanism. Taking a defensive pose, he held it out in front of him, and just in time too.
Several men and a few women, in a great feat of agility and dexterity, swung into the still-moving train from the outside with ropes presumably strung to a tree. They were all dressed in leather armor that was dyed dark brown, breastplate, greaves, gauntlets and all, and all had either slightly curved swords or flintlock pistols. One man even carried several small metal boxes and triangles, which I presumed were flashes and potions, an alchemists weapon.
As one bandit stepped forward to confront the swordsman, I noticed something else about their armor. It was gnarled and rough, like the bark of a tree. I soon realized that these were the Barkmen, a famous group of bandits that preyed on trains on the Railway of Tears. Many travelers had come to fear their tell-tale armor. The swordsman kept on a brave face as the Barksman slowly sauntered over to him. Raising his curved sword casually, the Barksman gave a slight smile before breaking into a confusing and overwhelming array of feints and stabs, slashes and jabs. The swordsman could do naught but be eventually overwhelmed by the great display of swordsmanship provided by the Barksman, and in a surprisingly little amount of time the swordsman was run through with the wicked sword of the Barksman. The swordsman gave a pitiful little sound before stumbling to the ground, driving himself even further onto the Barksmans blade. The Barksman smiled once and then roughly withdrew his sword with an arc of blood as the swordsman fell to the ground, blood seeping out from under his body.
I had hidden behind the seat in front of me before, but at the sight of this cruel and vicious act I sprang to my feet and called out to the Barkman, my voice quivering with anger and fear as well.
“No! Stop!”
The Barksman glanced over to me, that vile, satisfied smile still on his face. He looked slightly amused at my outburst.
“And what might you do to stop me? Bang on me with your feeble little fists as a human might bang on a giant?” He gave out a little chuckle, his smooth and threatening voice raising me to a new level of indignation. I in truth did not know what I would do to stop him... but I instinctively, for some reason, pointed at the Barksman, and then I felt something that I had felt once before. That strange, charged, feeling that I had experienced when I had touched the creeper, the one that had happened right before the creeper was blasted across the square, only this time, I didn't need to touch anything.
A blast of energy exploded from my hand, a charge of power that carried across the train-car in the span of a few seconds, straight at the Barksman. His eyes widened with utter surprise right before the bolt of power struck him. With a crack like thunder, he was thrown backwards with the power of an explosion. He plowed right through the seat where the swordsman had been sitting and right out of the side of the car, not even needing a window to break through. Everyone, including myself, watched as he, like the poor man who was thrown out of the car when the barrel exploded, struck a tree with a sickening crunch. His eyes were wide and glassy-looking, the eyes of a dead man.
As the train hurtled onward, there was a moment of surprise and silence, one that I imagined everyone dedicating to the people who had just died. Then, the Barkmen realized their full situation and one woman cried out in surprise.
“He is a wizard! Kill him now!” Her voice had a hint of panic in it, one which gave me great satisfaction, right before I realized what she just said.
“I'm not a wiz-” I yelled at them, before remembering something. Right before I had left Saga Day, Efilious had told me something, something which he did not get to finish.
“Jonathan, there is something you have to understand. You are more powerful than a Spark,” at this I had squinted my eyes in confusion. Sparks were magicians, and I was no magician. “You are a Rad-” At this my mother had pulled me away, saying that we had to get going, and I did not hear Efilious finish his sentence. Now it all made sense, at least a little bit.
My thoughts were shattered as I realized that several of the Barksmen with pistols were now pointing their pistols at me. With a rush of fear, I heard them fire and I held up my hands and closed my eyes as if to ward the pistol shots away. There was another lengthy silence, and I briefly wondered if I had died and that was why it was so quiet. Opening my eyes, I saw that I was certainly not dead, that several people were staring at me, and that a shimmering silver glow covered the air in front of me, and that a numerous amount of round bullets seemed to be embedded in the glow, like a bullet embedded in wood.
I stared at my hands, and then stepped forward, shattering the glow. An extensive amount of courage came to me and I started walking towards the Barksmen. When I was maybe an arms length from them, two of the men rushed me with their swords held high, their vocal cords thrumming with a roar. I held out my hands and their roar was cut short as they touched my hands... and burst into flames. Their screams of pain and the rest of the Barksmen horrified faces distracted me from something. Something that was very important. As the two men flailed around on fire, the alchemist Barksman slipped around me. Too late did I turn around, and the last thing I saw was a wooden club hurtling towards my head.
---+++---
Er yes, I know it is a bit long.
Also, don't be afraid to leave a comment. I mean, don't be afraid even to just to post a 0/10 scale-type thing. Comments, praise, criticism, any reactions at all are what keeps an author going. At least for me.
Original, and pretty innovative. It's an interesting setting, to say the least. The way you've not literally stuck to Craftmine, and instead used it as a base for a more elaborate story, is well done and a much needed element to fanfictions.
The writing style is descriptive, and properly so. The pacing, while a little slow, is enough to keep me entertained and reading. It's got mystery, humour and what looks to be a decently long and involving plot, with characters I could actually care about.
This is, so far, a good story. Not exemplary, but few stories, if any, are amazing at a short length. I look foward to seeing its expansion.
Also, these forums can be harsh and slow, so I reccomend putting a link in your signature, preferably an image one.
Also, a poll up top would be good. Breaking up the chapters with larger text also helps, becaues anything that makes reading and adding imput for the viewers easier makes it more likely they'll comment. they're a lazy lot, really.
I got to 360+ views and 5 comments at one point, so don't be discouraged and keep it up.
Thanks for all the reviews. Even though I've only received two so far, it's better than none.
Anyways, regarding some stuff about the story. It might be a while before I get the second chapter out, as the chapters are longish and well... school and all that. Second of all, since I forgot to post a reserved post for future chapters in-case the main post gets filled up, this will be the reserve post. So...
All right... only as a suggestion, this creeper better have come out of a doorway or something. It seems like it is in the middle of a large city, showing up in a somewhat crowded square.
Either way I expect all sorts of vengeful hell to rain down on Jonathan early and often. Add 3 more creepers!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm gonna be back with a new story and maybe, if you are all good little boys and girls, a fresh mod to go with it!!
EXTREMELY SORRY about the wait. I finished about, say, half of it before I felt really REALLY unmotivated. It just seemed suddenly really boring to me. And then everything else happened. Among the 'everything else' category are frequent rolling blackouts, birthdays, snowstorms, frozen pipes, rage at a blackout RIGHT before I saved my work, and other such things.
I had stayed up late into the night working on this, fearing another blackout, and had almost finished it. I only needed a few more paragraphs. Right as I was saving my work, BAM. Blackout. I raged so hard. But here it is, and I will attempt to get chapters out faster now! Chapters might be less in the four and a half and higher range and more in the three page range, in the future, so I can get them out faster. Just tell me specifications, my dear readers, and I will work my hardest to reach them.
Looks like you've put a lot of effort into it. Might read, but I am right now busy writing my own story. It actually reminds me of this one, you should check this out.
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Like stories of action, drama, romance, and redemption? Click:
Just a little heads up to everyone. The next chapter will probably be around the three and a half page mark, which is a bit lower than the first two chapters. However, if you guys have any preference for short or long, just tell me.
Great story, I would really like to read the rest but in your posts I can't seem to find the link, sorry if I sound like some of the retards on this forum but I'm very interested and would like to continue reading this story (10/10).
I suck at this. I acknowledge that. But now that I am, I guess you could say... sparked, I will start this again. Just that feeling of not wanting to write, but I hope it will be rectified. Really.
Don't say that you suck at this, because you don't! I really enjoyed reading this so far, and I really hope to see this continue. You have something creative and workable here.
The only thing I could say is to try not to be too descriptive. There's a very fine line between descriptiveness and redundancy. In other words, over-describing singular aspects with too many adjectives and adverbs. I'm not saying you've crossed it, but you've gotten close.
But don't let that discourage you! I've done it myself.
Just keep writing! I hope to see this continue on.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Look up. You see that big white ball? Yeah, that's me.
I mean that I suck at updating. It's like, I try to write sometimes and I really don't feel like it so I stop and the next thing I know it is a few months later. It is a bit hard for me to just start writing sometimes, you know? I am also only twelve years old, so yeah... my childishness is still there I guess, along with all the things that go with it. And school... although it hasn't given me MUCH trouble lately. But yeah, did a lot of reworking of the next chapter. It is much less action-y that the one before it, and that might be why it felt like a physical force was stopping me from writing earlier. Lack of willpower, I have it, I guess. Although what constitutes of willpower is a bit iffy...
Also, I am not completely sure about the title of this. I may change it, and I may keep it. It all depends on if I get a new idea for a title, or if someone suggests an alternative title.
Also, sorry if the line spaces between paragraphs annoy you. The Minecraft poster turns all indentations null and void, so the best I could do instead was just to space the paragraphs, because I am no fan of great walls of text. If anybody has something to tell me, or an idea, about indentation, please tell me.
Well anyways, I think that is about it, so...
Dear Cecina,
To understand who I am now... what I am now, you have to understand something. I didn't want this. Not after I figured out what it really was... what it really meant. It was all a big mistake. We went too far. We discovered what we shouldn't have. He lured us in... tricked us.
He was going to... turn us all. But when he discovered my Spark... he tricked me once again. He told me of what he and I could accomplish. What I could attain. I was already muddled from his earlier illusions, and the ones he used on me then were... slavery of the mind.
I wish I could be free of this prison, yet I am in the Flintlands. So many twists of rock, so many false caves that lead to nowhere or death. The Shauders prowl everywhere, the vile beasts. Pray that you never see one... they are all that is unclean, personified.
I feel as if all my hopes and dreams have been blown away, like ash on the wind. But yet, I feel that I can not give up hope. Yes, he may have turned all of them but me, yes he may have taken my freedom, and yes... he may be forcing me to learn his... art... but I feel that I may be able to escape, and cleanse myself of his aura, his stench. That hope, that chance, is but a thin thread, but if the thread happens to be dangled in front of me, I will take it.
I will charm this with Wynd, in hopes that it will get to you. Don't try to write back. It is hopeless.
Jonathan
Right between Torchklin and Diamondvale was The Crack, aptly named if you consider its status being the biggest canyon that anyone has yet mapped out, a huge obstacle by all means. Yraveyul, one of the great founders of Torchklin, realized that the movement of stone between Torchklin and Diamondvale needed to be anchored to one safe, secure route. Thus, the Railway of Tears, named after the sheer amount of laborers who died, due to either falling into The Crack or being preyed upon by the monsters, was made. It took 5 years to build, 2 of said years spent on bridging The Crack, using titanic amounts of wood and iron.
The great bridges of The Crack are legendary. A village, more like a small city, in fact, popped up at the great bridges, creating a much-needed pit-stop. The city was named Cordtug, and grew full tilt due to all the trade fed to it through the Railway of Tears. People come from far away lands, even lands across the Stonesea, to see the great bridges, arcing into the sky like frozen rainbows, and their impressive display of flags. The yellow emblem of a torch over a red backdrop, the flag of Torchklin, an coal forge over a grey background of stone, the flag of Diamondvale, a great picture of a bridge over a purple background, the flag of Cordtug, and last, but certainly not least, the picture of an obsidian pick and a diamond pick crossed in an X formation over a black and green striped background, the flag of Aemark, the empire.
Torchklin, Cordtug, and Diamondvale formed what people called The Arrow, due to the peculiarly straight direction of the Railway. The Arrow was the center of the empire, which expanded northeast until it hit the natural border of the Stonesea, named after it's vicious maelstroms that contained waves that felt like stone battering rams, and the not-so-natural border of Mlrick, another empire.
My virtually subconscious page-turning and daydreaming was precipitously interrupted by a voice... my mom's voice.
"Jonathan! Get dressed! You know what day it is!"
Oh yes, I did indeed know what day it was. It was Saga Day, the day where your dreams are either made or broken. When a citizen turns fourteen, if they have not been offered an apprenticeship by someone of a various position yet, they will be in the Saga Day. On the annual time of the third of Skelter, the sixth month in the fourteen month calendar, Saga Day was held, always in the same place, which would be the small but imposing and very aged Tairk tower, which used to be a watchtower when Torchklin was just a small town, but as of this time and age the walls had been pushed MUCH farther out, around eight miles.
I snapped onto my feet like a hoe would if someone accidentally stepped on the metal part. Hastily closing my book and laying it aside, I turned around and looked for my bag, my eyes roaming around the room as if they were searchlights. My room was by no means large, but it certainly was not small either. There was my bed, in the same place as it was when I first slept in a room of my own, my bedside table, more just a smooth piece of wood lain onto two sharp, splintery wooden blocks, and my four foot tall dresser, still varnished-for the most part-after eleven years
A-ha! There it was, lying under my table. I ducked down and crawled underneath my table, going closer to the wall as I went. How did my bag get so far under here? I shrugged and retrieved its bulky frame, pulling it out by the straps. Once it and myself were clear, I hoisted it up by the strap and slung it over my shoulder. I staggered forward a few paces because of the sudden increase of weight on my back, but quickly righted myself.
Smoothing down my hair as best I could, I swung open my door, stepped forward onto the stairs and... fell into nothingness. I remembered that my mother was getting the stairs renovated and that I was to use a ladder attached to the wall that led straight up under my doorway in the meantime. Funny how you remember important things when it is too late to do anything with them. Just another way daily life seeks to screw you over. I looked down, bracing myself for the six foot fall when I remembered another something. My room was on the third floor of our tall, but narrow house.
Now it wasn't just a matter of being stunned for a few seconds and then going on my merry way, now it was a matter of pain and possibly being impaired from going to Saga Day. Being as I was inside my head, my thoughts reeling and racing through my mind like a rail-cart gone awry , it was surprising that I didn't cry out. Now would be about time for the air to cushion my fall...
Of course I was just trying to take my mind off the inevitable when I thought that but... instead of a sudden pain, a completely free broken ankle, I felt like I actually fell onto cushions. Real nice ones too, all plush and velvety. I savored the relaxing feeling for a few seconds before BAM! I started falling again... and fell a foot, landing on my behind.
I sat right there on the floor, just staring forward, my eyebrows creasing in confusion. Eventually I stood up and looked behind me at where I fell, where I languished for a few seconds on imaginary cushions. Nothing was there. I swiped my arms through the empty space, and felt nothing. Odd. I swiped my arms through the air a bit more but again, felt nothing.
As luck would have it, my mother walked into the room just as I was swiping my arms through the air. Just another way the world is against you.
“Er... Jonathan, what are you doing, exactly?” My mother inquired, and I stopped mid-swipe and turned around with a big blush on my face.
“Ah... nothing. Just... moving the air. It gets a bit stale in here, right?” I explained meekly, and not eminently well. Most likely because I didn't precisely know what I was doing either.
My mother raised her eyebrows at me, before turning around and walking out of the stair room, which the rest of our semi-circular house was built around. I followed her a few paces behind, thinking about that odd fall. Maybe I just got lucky? Maybe... but maybe not.
Sighing, I raised my eyes up towards my mom. She was in her festivals best, her white buttoned blouse complementing her black vest and dress. My mother was into that shiny black and white style, often wearing genial and sometimes even elaborate clothes while others of her age would either wear a simple brown dress or shirt and pants, depending on the job. I followed her in the circular route to the living room, and then to the entry hallway.
Only my mother would be accompanying me to Saga Day, for my only other sibling, my sister, Malei, worked as as a carpenter up in Diamondvale, and my father was a miner, which usually meant a decent bit of time working every day. A sudden thought popped into my head, a thought I admittedly didn't like. At Saga Day, you could be picked for any time of job. Even ones that took you out of the city you currently resided in. Even though I was fourteen, I still wasn't at all comfortable with being separated from my parents.
“Mom, don't I have a chance of being taken up by a job that takes me... out of here?” I voiced my concerns, staring intently at the back of my moms head as we walked into the entry hallway.
“What do you mean, Jonathan?” She replied, turning her head to cast a glance my way.
“I mean... being chosen for a job that will take me away from Torchklin? As in, away from you and dad?”
She paused for a second, but then got walking again, her soft-soled shoes making a particularly soft pattering on the wooden floor.
“It's unlikely. Although most positions do send a representative to Saga Days everywhere, so most of the time you never know...” She paused thoughtfully again, this time for a little longer, and I just about bumped into her before she swiftly started up again, as if she had a stuttering coal engine inside of her.
I let out a soft hmm as my mom opened the door, brilliant yellow light flooding the entry hallway as if the door was a broken dam. I averted my eyes from the sudden light and followed my mom into the open air. Sweeping my eyes across my immediate surroundings, I took in a fresh breath of air. Torchklin was a large place, but thankfully Tairk tower was close enough for us to be able to walk along the cobblestone sidewalks that lined the cart system that ran along the middle of nearly every street in the city, instead of taking a cart. And so we started the boring little walk to Tairk tower.
---+++---
About halfway through the route to Tairk tower, is Crafte plaza. It gives the impression of a cozy rest stop, giving several benches to sit on, its elaborate mosaics glittering in the morning sun and several food vendors setting up shop along the walls of nearby buildings. Here me and my mother stopped to buy a pork-bun, the meat of a pig wrapped in bread. I rolled my eyes as I thought of all the ways chefs and cooks used meat in cooking. Pork-on-a-stick, pork-bun, pork-wrap, the plain pork on a plate, messy sauce-pork, spiced pork, mushroom fried pork, the list goes on and on.
Slowly chewing on my food, I stared at the mosaics of the square. There was a central sun, and seeming to radiate out from it were mosaics of animals, famous people, tools, minerals, famous buildings, and some interesting landscapes. I noted with a small smile a mosaic of The Crack, and then right next to it a mosaic of the great bridges.
My thoughts fleetingly turned again to the notion that I might be chosen for a job that would take me out of Torchklin. If I was picked for such an occupation, would I get the chance to see The Crack? The great bridges? I could only hope, wait, and see.
An interesting question arose in my mind like a cork in water, one that I was surprised had not arisen sooner.
“Why is this day called Saga Day?” I asked my mother, turning to glance at her for a second before looking back at the colorful mosaics.
“Because of Aeritmatel, because of her saga.” She glanced at me with a curved eyebrow as if saying, Surely you have heard of her?
But in-fact, I had not. Of all the books I'd read, I'd never heard of someone named Aeritmatel. Attempting to dig a little deeper in my mind, to perhaps unearth a forgotten memory of some kind about Aeritmatel, but nothing appeared.
“Who is she?” My mother's mention of her had sparked curiosity in me, and this curiosity had grown to become a raging inferno in just a few seconds. It was decidedly common in me. And then I saw something in my mothers eye, a glint, a glint I had became to know every since that first story my mother had told me when I was just a tot. A glint of excitement, of adventure, of all things wondrous and amazing.
“Aeritmatel, as you might have guessed, went to Saga Day, back then called Choose Day, the same as you. She was chosen by someone... particular. A representative of a group. A group people now known as the Brizdengild.”
I blinked in surprise. Brizdengild... that one word was enough to send my mind twirling away on vivid visions of ventures and commotion. The Brizdengild were an elite group, clan, cult, whatever your preference. They were a rowdy, but amazing group of horror-hunters, and the word 'horror-hunters' alone is enough to make someone give respect to them. A person, or more usually a group, is only given the title of 'horror-hunters' if they are hardcore, dedicated, best of the best monster hunters.
“But... why her? I mean... why would the Brizdengild choose someone from Saga Day? That's like... a god choosing a baby as it's champion...” I, perhaps a little to passionately, voiced my question, as I faintly perceived a few people look at me.
“Well you see... she was a Glow.” I immediately understood why she was picked on Saga Day by such a prodigious group. A Glow is a person touched by the... glow of magic. A Glow is a name given to someone who is imbued with a medium-amount of magic. Glows were substantially rare (Not even to speak of their older siblings, Sparks and Radiants), and they, along with Shines, Sparks, and Radiants, were the only ones who could do magic. The ability to do magic is so unusual and useful that it was no surprise why they were so sought after. Nodding, I motioned for my mother to continue.
“Anyways, she was chosen for the Brizdengild, and in the span of the next weekssssss...”
My mother's face abruptly turned very pale and her gaze was no longer on me, it was on something a bit over my shoulder. And then I realized something else. Most of the s's that my mother supposedly made were not her own.
In a panicked flurry I spun around and there was a.... creeper.
Time was in slow motion, just me staring at the creeper for seconds which felt like hours, and then suddenly everything snapped into high-drive.
The creeper pushed up on me, and I could hear the infamous hissing that the creeper was famed for. I heard my mother scream something which I couldn't discern as I, seized by something I couldn't understand, reached out with my hand to touch the creeper. Then, something... a bit disturbing happened. The moment my fingers brushed the creeper's green, sticky flesh, it felt like I was struck by lightning. A great shock spread through me and I felt like I was the very essence of energy. With a roar of power in my ears, I disconnectedly watched an amazing glow spread throughout my whole body before coming together at my left shoulder and moving as a radiant, golden band further up my arm, into my hand, into my fingers, and into the creeper.
With a great blast as if a cache of TNT had ignited, the creeper was blasted away from me, it's four, stumpy legs flailing before it crashed into the wall at the far end of the courtyard and slid onto the floor, staying there for a few seconds before doing a surprisingly acrobatic move and jumping up onto its quadruped feet. It just stood there, staring at me for a few seconds, with those horrible, unfeeling eyes. Maybe I should I have run right then, but if you were me, you would regard the word 'petrified' with more respect. And then something I'd never heard of creepers doing before happened.
Its eyes pulsed red, then pulsed again, as if its eyes were oil lamps flickering in the wind. They pulsed and throbbed for a few seconds more before becoming more stable, and then it charged. It moved so fast, faster than I'd seen any normal human being run, but then again, this thing was not human. I barely perceived anything other than faint gasps and muddled words as it slammed into me, knocking me into the air. I expected to be slammed into the ground at any moment, but then I realized that it was still in power-charge mode, and was keeping me aloft as long as it kept moving. A hissing arose in the air, an inhuman and disturbing hiss, like some kind of demon snake.
It felt like minutes passed as the hissing grew louder, but in reality it was only seconds. As the hissing grew into a juggernaut of sound all around me, as if I was drowned in hissing snakes, I noticed something odd. A barely-noticeable silvery hue was growing to consume my vision, it's shimmering and faintly glowing light forming itself into what looked like scales. I glanced down at myself and saw that the argent scales were spreading down my whole body, covering me like some kind of shield... shield... I barely started to realize what the sterling shimmers were before the creeper exploded. I reeled in shock, although looking at it I shouldn't really have been surprised about the explosion, considering that I had just been charged by a creeper.
I was stuck in a dreamland of colors, flashing lights, and odd and what seemed like otherworldly sounds. I heard several screams, female screams, male screams, even what I think was my own scream. Focusing my eyes, I looked straight forward into a tunnel of smoke, fire, and light, a tunnel that seemed to be getting farther away and more narrow by the second. Then everything sped up and my vision was enshrouded by smoke and fire at the same time as I felt my back slam into a hard surface.
My head snapped back and I felt it slam into the wall, yet I experienced no pain, the same for all the other parts of my body that had slammed into the wall at what must have been terminal velocity. I shook my head as I felt someone grasp my arm, hindering my slide down the wall a bit. I looked up as the smoke dissipated, straight into the face of my mother. I felt her arms thrown around me as she spoke, her voice shaky and scared but not yet sounding like she was crying.
“How are you... how did you... you're alive, you're not dead!” She pulled back from me and looked at me all over, her eyes hard with that steely look of searching, of that 'I-don't-care-just-let-me-look-at-you” that all mothers tend to get when their children get hurt.
After a few minutes of this, she stepped away from me and started at me in disbelief.
“You're... completely fine...” My mother stared at me like I was some kind of exotic, strange animal.
Not processing anything completely yet, I dizzily responded.
“I... am?” My eyes fluttered for a second and I shook my head vigorously. I picked myself up slowly, taking a large breath of air. Glancing at my mother, I saw on her face a look of utter confusion mixed with relief. I was about to say something to her when I realized the reason my mother was so confused. A creeper blew up in my face and I survived. I survived! That which was impossible, me being here right now, was somehow real and true. Breathing a little faster now, I spun around and looked at where the creeper had exploded, causing a large crater in the beautiful pictures of the square. I bended over as a wave of nausea swept over me and I teetered on the edge of a panic attack.
Several yelling voices pulled me out of my river of whirling thoughts and confused senses. Looking up, I saw that it was the voices of several Streetguards, a half-milita and half-city guard group that watched over the many streets, squares, and plazas of Torchklin. They mostly just dealt with riots and public brawls, although occasionally monsters had come up from the sewers and other dank and dark places. Speaking of sewers... I swiveled my gaze to the bench where me and my mother were sitting before we were... interrupted... and saw the source of all the trouble. A smashed open, half-circle sewer grate right up against the edge of the wall, in which several Streetguards were peering into.
“Seems like the blasted bugger came up through here...” muttered a man with a admittedly impressive mustache.
“We might need to get reinforced grates and do a sewer sweep to clear out the monsterfolk,” another responded as he toed the edge of the opening to the grate.
“It's bloody hard to do a sewer sweep, you know that right? So many nooks and crannies, and so dark,” the mustached Streetguard countered. “It will take a while for us to get a sewer sweep up and running. We got lucky this time... really lucky,” At this the mustached Streetguard stared at me intently, pure curiosity in his eyes. I glanced away with my brow furrowed. I too wondered how I had lived that encounter, and it seemed to be that the same question was in most other people's minds, since I felt many eyes on me.
“Alright everyone!” A Streetguard cried out to everyone in the square. “We are sealing off this plaza! It would be in your best interest to move away from this area!” I stood watching the Streetguards pace around and speak to each other for a little while, still in shock from the creeper encounter, when my mother grabbed my arm and tugged me away.
“Come on, Jonathan. We need to get going if we want to make the Saga Day,” she urged me on. “It won't pay to miss it.”
I slowly nodded once, my mind in turmoil over what had happened not ten minutes before. It was obvious that I had shielded myself somehow, and that those weird silver scales were the shield, but how? Only magicians could do something like that, and even the most powerful Sparks only had their powers unsheathe themselves at around the age of sixteen. Perhaps some random wizard or witch had charmed me? I didn't see how that was possible but... it was the solution that made the most sense. Taking a deep breath, I briefly thought about asking my mother to continue the story of Aeritmatel, but I was a bit too shaken up to want her to continue, and decided to just swim among my own thoughts.
---+++---
My mother looked up at Tairk Tower, the same time as I stared down at my feet. Now that I was so close to Saga Day and being chosen by someone, the feeling of it all had gone from excitement to dread. Lagging a little bit behind my mother, I pondered over all the possible outcomes of this day. Would I become the apprentice or under-apprentice to a stinking butcher or tanner? Would someone choose me to become a simple news-boy? There was just so many non-preferred outcomes to this event, it was unbearable to wait for. If I was to spend the rest of my days cleaning up the intestines of a pig in a chop-shop, at least would it come faster!
“Hurry up Jonathan!” my mother had glanced behind her to see if I was still there and had noticed me slowly dragging my feet across the ground, several paces behind her.
Biting my lower lip, I jogged up beside her just as she reached the large doors to the tower. Casting my attention upwards, I beheld the tall tower. Made of marble it's circular floors rose up into the air, before thinning into a small lookout tower at the very top. The first floor had no windows whatsoever, oddly enough, but all the floors above that had sometimes near-panoramic views. Some of the windows of the many floors were clear windows, some were gem, and some were crystal. I rested a hand on the smooth, sleek and stout marble, pushing softly against it. The white walls looked so fragile, so easily breakable, but in reality they were as thick and stalwart as all but the most tenacious haven-houses.
My mother rested a hand on the handle of one of the doors and heaved it open, the midday sun streaming in with all the paradisaical radiance that light possessed, giving a gold-like shine to every surface as we walked inside. Dimly-lit torches were anchored to several pillars, spluttering and wavering as wind rushed in from the outside world. My mother spun around and slammed shut the door, and just like that, the golden luster on everything disappeared and a dim atmosphere prevailed.
Shrugging off a slight chill, I walked beside my mother towards the center of the room and the central staircase. I did not like the discrepancy between the wonderful room that showed itself when light was inserted, and this crepuscular, gloomy room that was full of nebulous shadows and near-extinguished lights. I dragged my left hand through my hair lightly as my mother and I marched up the stairs, and up, and up.
“What floor is Saga Day on, exactly?” I asked my mother. It felt like we were ascending miles.
“Let's see... there are eighteen floors in Tairk Tower, and I believe Saga Day is always held on the ninth to tenth floors,” my mother explained as we reached a sign proclaiming the floor we were on as the sixth one.
“Not far now...” I acknowledged as we walked past the sign.
“I remember when my sister went to Saga Day...” my mother mused as we reached the eighth floor.
“Was she chosen for a good craft?” I inquired at my mother.
“Oh, I'd say she enjoyed it...” there was a sly smile on my mothers face. I pressed for more information, but she was unyielding.
I was about to urge my mother to tell me again when we walked into the ninth floor, and I was taken aback. There were so many people bustling around the room, it was unbelievable. Soldiers, masons, craftsmen, cooks, I'd even spotted what I believed to be a few wizards , all undoubtedly representatives for one group, guild, workplace or another. Chairs were set out in rows of crescent-moon shapes all centered on a large stage and podium. I pulled back a bit when I saw this. I did not expect the judgments to be so public. I did not want to eventually go up on that stage, in front of anyone who happened to be here. I was almost about to step back down the stairs before someone caught my eye... that someone being a wizard, in a sharp white dress suit, complimented by a black vest with several pockets, with many of said pockets bulging with mysterious things. A stylish and I assumed useful monocle-like contraption adorned his right eye, a contraption that caused a constant ticking sound that dived and ascended through the octaves, sometimes near-silent and sometimes loud enough to annoy.
I could this because of his significant and vibrant sun-shaped badge pinned to the shoulder of his suit, the sign for all wizards. Sure, there were lots of sub-castes of wizards and classes, but most wizards did not have the symbols indicating anything specific. Better to keep any enemies you come across guessing, as many people liked to do. His eyes alighted when he saw me for some strange reason, and he swiftly hurried over to me.
“Hello my fine sir!” he grinned at me as he stuck out his hand. I regarded it tentatively for a few seconds, a little wary of sudden strangers, before I shook it. As I gripped his hand, I experienced the oddest feeling, that of something like a jolt. My hand tingled a little bit, but the oddest part was the wizard's reaction. I guess he felt something too, because his eyes widened and he took a few steps back as if something was overwhelming him, before he gained back control and a massive beam took over his face.
“Welcome indeed to Saga Day!” he shook my hand much more vigorously, still with a stupidly large smile on his face. I glanced over at my mom, and saw that she was in deep conversation already with someone who appeared to be a blacksmith.
“Er... hello,” I spoke back. “Who are you?”
“Efilious Revter, Evoker, Myrth-class, pleased to meet you!” I gulped. This man was an Evoker, and Myrth-class at that. Evokers were all-out offensive wizards, and only the most experienced and deadly Evokers were in the Myrth-class, named after myrth, the extremely violate and dangerous mineral that resided in vast labyrinthine caverns far, far below the ground. If extracted correctly and tempered with certain chemicals, it would become usable. It could then be made to create weapons of unparallelled sharpness and strength, that would actually burn the area around whatever they cut into. And these were just the most immediate and recognizable properties of myrth, the ones you learned in your average Minerals and Mountains class. A dangerous mineral, indeed.
I responded with the first thing that popped into my mind, a question that I had pondered over whenever I heard of Myrth-class Evokers.
“Why are Evokers of the Myrth-class named after myrth?” I blurted out, and the large grin on his face was quickly replaced by a devilish and a bit unnerving smirk
“People say Evokers magic strikes with the ferocity and power of exploding myrth, and you know how powerful that is.” I shrugged. I did not actually know how powerful exploding myrth was, and again curiosity urged me to ask.
“Well, I don't really know how powerful it is. About as strong as... several crates of TNT?” I took a guess, hoping that I guessed right. Guessing something right gives you a strange feeling of satisfaction, I've found.
“In a small border-town named Bevum, the mining guild there found a huge vein of myrth. Or rather, a novice miner found it. He ignored all the safety regulations that had been taught to him and attempted to mine the myrth. Do you care to wonder what happened?” The same wicked smile resided on his face.
“The miner died and a small cavern was formed?” Honestly, I did not think that myrth was all that powerful, although I did not know the truth... yet. I had a feeling I was about to find out.
“The ensuing explosion ripped throughout the underground. It reached it's burning hands all the way up to the miners' halfway station, and killed every miner in there, which happened to be the last of them. As the explosion lost power, instead of completely destroying the stone, it instead funneled up through the natural holes in the rock, eventually finding way to the surface. Great bursts and eruptions of fire and heat burst out all over the landscape, rushing out from the cave tendrils that reached the surface,” at this I noticed what looked like a glint of fire in Efilious' eye. I shifted uncomfortably as he continued.
“Bevum was built over a extensively wooded and cave-ridden place, which meant a lot of mini-volcanoes going off everywhere, and a abundance of trees catching on fire, unfortunately for the people living there. The blasts of flame coupled with the spreading forest fires actually sucked most of the oxygen out of the air and the people living in Bevum were unable to breathe as their houses caught alight and added to the inferno.”
I was sufficiently intimated and now understood the power of myrth, and asked Efilious if that was the end of Bevum, a fiery, suffocating death. He gave a little chuckle and shook his head.
“Unfortunately, no,” I blinked in surprise at the unfortunately. What could be more unfortunate than what Efilious had just told me? “The people of Bevum were not to die at the hands of the heat and fire, but instead to a combination of things. You see, the explosion of the myrth created a colossal cavern below Bevum. Bevum was also unlucky in the fact that they were built near a tectonic fault. The myrth-explosion destabilized this fault and the surrounding land. A elephantine earthquake started up and shook the ground, and the burning land around Bevum started collapsing into the ground. It must have been a spectacle, giant bonfires falling into immense caverns below the ground, a true vision of The Nether on earth. Eventually, so too did the land that Bevum was centered on crash into the ground and the massive cavern that was caused by the myrth. No one survived that day, bar a talented wizard who cast a teleportation spell on himself and appeared far away in some area of wilderness, where he was later found by a group of hunters. He was took by them to a city named Irio, where he later trekked to Torchklin. There, he, inspired by the great fires he witnessed that fateful day, decided to become an Evoker. I am guessing that you know who that wizard might be.” He winked at me and turned away as a man with a voicecaster, a magical contraption used to easily project your voice, called everyone to sit down, somewhere in the large mass of chairs. Glancing at him momentarily, I looked back at Efilious only to see that he had disappeared. Shrugging, I looked around for my mother, and, spotting her, trotted over to her.
I followed her dutifully as she picked about the seats and chairs before finding a place she decided would suit her and sat down. Sitting beside her, I looked up at the stage as the man welcomed all for coming. He mentioned food and refreshments on the tenth floor, told everyone how the selections would work, and then declared that Saga Day was underway. I disliked the way that it was to be carried out, as it was very public, and almost like an auction. Sagees, as people liked to call the kids who came to Saga Day to be picked for a profession, would be called onto the stage where various people of various occupations would observe the Sagee and decide whether they wanted him or not. It was a first come, first serve thing. Whoever called out to the Sagee first, would get him or her first. Not a very good system, if you ask me.
With a smash of a wooden hammer on the podium, the man controlling the whole affair called out the first name on the list, a girl named Revee Banks. A short, stout girl, by the looks of her, she was quickly called out by a mason, and off she went to stand by the podium and get a special pin, signaling that she was chosen by some masons. With a satisfied smile on her face and a shining pin on her lapel, she went to sit down. Pausing momentarily to do what I supposed was crossing a name off a list, the man called up another person. And so it went. Girl after girl, boy after boy, kids, all of the age fourteen, would be called up the stage and picked over by the various professions. Some went to sit down with smiles, and some with frowns. Not once was a person not picked, which I guessed was a good sign...
Time seemed to pass too quickly, and I soon heard my own name called out.
“Jonathan Verit!” With a heavy sigh and a pounding heart, I stood up and walked onto the stage. Standing there, I waited. I quickly picked out Efilious in the crowd and saw that he was staring intently at something which he held in his lap, a book by the looks of it. Glancing up, he spotted me standing on the stage, and with a snap of his book he made to stand up and call out my name. Why did he call me? Was I made to be a wizard? I shied away at the thought of being the apprentice to an unnerving wizard, for whatever reason. I possessed no magical skill. However, all my thoughts were unfounded, for this was not to be. Suddenly noticing another person standing up, I was horrified to find that that person was a soldier, and that he had stood up before Efilious. All my thoughts of reproach to being the apprentice to someone such as Efilious were blown away in the wind compared to being a soldier. Soldiers fought in battle. Soldiers died, most of the time painfully.
In a petrified horror, I watched as the soldier called out, right before Efilious was about to do so.
“He seems strong enough, I'll take 'im,”
Efilious's eyes widened in surprise and he glared at the man of military. He called out right before the Saga judge was about to.
“I object!”
The gruff and gravelly soldier shifted his eyes over to Efilious and raised his eyes in silent question.
“What do you need him for? Your a wizard. Want him to carry your papers about your party tricks around for you?” The soldier sneered. Glaring at the soldier even fiercer, Efilious responded with something that befuddled me.
“I need him for reasons you wouldn't understand. Reasons that would dumbfound someone such as you!” The soldier did not take the insult well and his voice quickly escalated into yelling.
“Oh really?! Reasons I don't understand?! Well how about this! We need him to upkeep the safety of this land. What supposed unknown 'reasons' can trump such an honest and good-intentioned one?”
“It... ah! Just... you have plenty of other people to thicken the lines of your military! Choose someone else!”
“And why should I do that? What is so special about this Jonathan Verit?” At this I saw that Efilious was clenching his fists and snorting with anger.
“Would you believe it if I said that Jona-” Efilious's voice was cut short as the Saga judge banged his wooden hammer on the podium and called out to everyone. I had wondered why this hadn't happened sooner, but I guess that people weren't used to people fighting over a mere Sagee.
“Wizard! I'd suggest you stop your self. Rules are rules, and the soldier has called out to us first! They will take Jonathan Verit!” I was remarkably surprised that the man did not even think to ask which occupation I would like to go to.
“I don't know what is so special about Mr. Verit here, but he will be taken up by the military!”
At this the Saga judge banged his gavel once more and all fell silent. As I slowly trudged toward the podium to grab my pin, the full realization of what happened hit me, more so than before. The military had their boot-camps and main training bases up in Diamondvale.
I was to leave my family.
The passenger-car's rattling provided a constant companion to my own thoughts. My nervous, sad thoughts. I understood that I was to go up to Diamondvale, and that in itself was not too bad at all. I would get to see The Crack and the great bridges, and other famous landmarks, and maybe even see my sister Ateira. But... I was going as a soldier. That completely switched things around. It was like the difference between going to a courtroom as a judge, and going to a courtroom as a criminal.
After Saga Day had ended, me and my mother both went home and took up the task of preparing for the journey. I was required to be in Diamondvale in the span of a weeks time, and it would be best if I set out a day after Saga Day. These were instructions that had come in a letter that the recruiting soldier had gave to us, right before we left Tairk Tower. I could sense that my mother was sad on the inside, but she kept up a constant stream of encouragement, about how I could see my sister, make new friends, and learn skills that would be very useful later in life. I brightened a little at all these good points, but the main fact was still there, as unmoving as a mountain. I was now in the military, and the military fought against all types of things. Sure, the army usually kept trainees out of most engagements, but you only needed a little training before you were considered experienced enough to serve in most battles and occurrences.
Bandits, monsters, soldiers of other nations, barbarians from the Flintlands, and sometimes even rogue wizards. The dangers were just too much to list. I glanced down at my meager amount of luggage, a backpack where I kept most of my personal items and a medium-sized leather bag where I most of my clothes resided. I liked that arrangement, for it was less to carry and easier to manage. The same could not be said for most other people in my car. The car I was in was not packed quite to full yet, but there was still a decent amount of people, all sitting on the red leather seats and either fiddling with their many bags-I even caught one woman who seemed to be carefully observing all twelve of her bags in a specific order, and frequently-, looking out the windows at the dark night, reading a book, or some other action one would do when you're on a long, boring trip, which would describe the trip between Torchklin and Cordtug perfectly. I personally had gotten bored of reading my same old history and adventure books about two hours into the trip, and had opted to look out the window at the varied and increasingly more wild landscape, at its lofty, towering trees, at its picturesque and near opaque ponds, and all the other majestic visions that nature had to offer.
Right now, the train was going through an increasingly savage wooded area, an area that seemed to set a good amount of people in my car on edge, judging by the increasing amount of people who started doing things such as biting their nails, itching the back of their neck, or tapping their armrests, windows, or lap. I too had a notably bad feeling about this area, a feeling that I could not shake off, a feeling that seemed to dog me like a hunting dog silently stalks a chicken. The tenebrous and oppressive forest seemed to nearly swallow the train whole as the trees reached their ebony, jagged branches over the train and onto it, and soon a subtle, distracting scratching permeated throughout the air as branches dragged on the top of the train.
What happened next just seemed so expected it was comical, considering the landscape we had been traveling through since an half-hour ago. A pfwhoup sound, one that you would hear when you blow through a straw to launch a berry or other rotund object out the end of it, only voluminously more sonorous. The next moment, an object which looked like a small barrel, reinforced with strips of metal, crashed through a window near the front of the train. People screamed, I ducked down, thankful that I was sitting in the back and not in the front, and then the barrel exploded. I watched in horror as a middle-aged man, maybe around forty-five years old, was caught in the explosion and blasted out of the window which was right next to him. He flew out of the train and slammed into the trunk of a tree on the opposite side of the train in which the barrel had come in from. He did not rise again.
A young man, perhaps a swordsman in training, rapidly poked around in his bag and pulled out a thick, short, and wooden contraption out of his bag and held it in his hand. With a click of a button, the apparatus shifted, wooden panels moved, and a thin metal blade rose out of the fist-sized mechanism. Taking a defensive pose, he held it out in front of him, and just in time too.
Several men and a few women, in a great feat of agility and dexterity, swung into the still-moving train from the outside with ropes presumably strung to a tree. They were all dressed in leather armor that was dyed dark brown, breastplate, greaves, gauntlets and all, and all had either slightly curved swords or flintlock pistols. One man even carried several small metal boxes and triangles, which I presumed were flashes and potions, an alchemists weapon.
As one bandit stepped forward to confront the swordsman, I noticed something else about their armor. It was gnarled and rough, like the bark of a tree. I soon realized that these were the Barkmen, a famous group of bandits that preyed on trains on the Railway of Tears. Many travelers had come to fear their tell-tale armor. The swordsman kept on a brave face as the Barksman slowly sauntered over to him. Raising his curved sword casually, the Barksman gave a slight smile before breaking into a confusing and overwhelming array of feints and stabs, slashes and jabs. The swordsman could do naught but be eventually overwhelmed by the great display of swordsmanship provided by the Barksman, and in a surprisingly little amount of time the swordsman was run through with the wicked sword of the Barksman. The swordsman gave a pitiful little sound before stumbling to the ground, driving himself even further onto the Barksmans blade. The Barksman smiled once and then roughly withdrew his sword with an arc of blood as the swordsman fell to the ground, blood seeping out from under his body.
I had hidden behind the seat in front of me before, but at the sight of this cruel and vicious act I sprang to my feet and called out to the Barkman, my voice quivering with anger and fear as well.
“No! Stop!”
The Barksman glanced over to me, that vile, satisfied smile still on his face. He looked slightly amused at my outburst.
“And what might you do to stop me? Bang on me with your feeble little fists as a human might bang on a giant?” He gave out a little chuckle, his smooth and threatening voice raising me to a new level of indignation. I in truth did not know what I would do to stop him... but I instinctively, for some reason, pointed at the Barksman, and then I felt something that I had felt once before. That strange, charged, feeling that I had experienced when I had touched the creeper, the one that had happened right before the creeper was blasted across the square, only this time, I didn't need to touch anything.
A blast of energy exploded from my hand, a charge of power that carried across the train-car in the span of a few seconds, straight at the Barksman. His eyes widened with utter surprise right before the bolt of power struck him. With a crack like thunder, he was thrown backwards with the power of an explosion. He plowed right through the seat where the swordsman had been sitting and right out of the side of the car, not even needing a window to break through. Everyone, including myself, watched as he, like the poor man who was thrown out of the car when the barrel exploded, struck a tree with a sickening crunch. His eyes were wide and glassy-looking, the eyes of a dead man.
As the train hurtled onward, there was a moment of surprise and silence, one that I imagined everyone dedicating to the people who had just died. Then, the Barkmen realized their full situation and one woman cried out in surprise.
“He is a wizard! Kill him now!” Her voice had a hint of panic in it, one which gave me great satisfaction, right before I realized what she just said.
“I'm not a wiz-” I yelled at them, before remembering something. Right before I had left Saga Day, Efilious had told me something, something which he did not get to finish.
“Jonathan, there is something you have to understand. You are more powerful than a Spark,” at this I had squinted my eyes in confusion. Sparks were magicians, and I was no magician. “You are a Rad-” At this my mother had pulled me away, saying that we had to get going, and I did not hear Efilious finish his sentence. Now it all made sense, at least a little bit.
My thoughts were shattered as I realized that several of the Barksmen with pistols were now pointing their pistols at me. With a rush of fear, I heard them fire and I held up my hands and closed my eyes as if to ward the pistol shots away. There was another lengthy silence, and I briefly wondered if I had died and that was why it was so quiet. Opening my eyes, I saw that I was certainly not dead, that several people were staring at me, and that a shimmering silver glow covered the air in front of me, and that a numerous amount of round bullets seemed to be embedded in the glow, like a bullet embedded in wood.
I stared at my hands, and then stepped forward, shattering the glow. An extensive amount of courage came to me and I started walking towards the Barksmen. When I was maybe an arms length from them, two of the men rushed me with their swords held high, their vocal cords thrumming with a roar. I held out my hands and their roar was cut short as they touched my hands... and burst into flames. Their screams of pain and the rest of the Barksmen horrified faces distracted me from something. Something that was very important. As the two men flailed around on fire, the alchemist Barksman slipped around me. Too late did I turn around, and the last thing I saw was a wooden club hurtling towards my head.
Also, don't be afraid to leave a comment. I mean, don't be afraid even to just to post a 0/10 scale-type thing. Comments, praise, criticism, any reactions at all are what keeps an author going. At least for me.
The writing style is descriptive, and properly so. The pacing, while a little slow, is enough to keep me entertained and reading. It's got mystery, humour and what looks to be a decently long and involving plot, with characters I could actually care about.
This is, so far, a good story. Not exemplary, but few stories, if any, are amazing at a short length. I look foward to seeing its expansion.
Also, these forums can be harsh and slow, so I reccomend putting a link in your signature, preferably an image one.
Also, a poll up top would be good. Breaking up the chapters with larger text also helps, becaues anything that makes reading and adding imput for the viewers easier makes it more likely they'll comment. they're a lazy lot, really.
I got to 360+ views and 5 comments at one point, so don't be discouraged and keep it up.
Anyways, regarding some stuff about the story. It might be a while before I get the second chapter out, as the chapters are longish and well... school and all that. Second of all, since I forgot to post a reserved post for future chapters in-case the main post gets filled up, this will be the reserve post. So...
<reserved>
Either way I expect all sorts of vengeful hell to rain down on Jonathan early and often. Add 3 more creepers!
I've got a small contest going on for my story so check it out! VV (Light blue sig)
I had stayed up late into the night working on this, fearing another blackout, and had almost finished it. I only needed a few more paragraphs. Right as I was saving my work, BAM. Blackout. I raged so hard. But here it is, and I will attempt to get chapters out faster now! Chapters might be less in the four and a half and higher range and more in the three page range, in the future, so I can get them out faster. Just tell me specifications, my dear readers, and I will work my hardest to reach them.
Anyways, I kinda wish I didn't have to post to update this every time I want to add a new chapter.
Click one and save it
The only thing I could say is to try not to be too descriptive. There's a very fine line between descriptiveness and redundancy. In other words, over-describing singular aspects with too many adjectives and adverbs. I'm not saying you've crossed it, but you've gotten close.
But don't let that discourage you! I've done it myself.
Just keep writing! I hope to see this continue on.