My Fantasy Novel

My Fantasy Novels

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Mon, 01 Jul 2013 04:34:00 +0000

I have two of the three books in the Demon Siege Trilogy published and available as Ebooks and Printed Books. So far, they have received very good reviews from those who have read them and left reviews. Unfortunately, they are not selling well. I can use all of the help I can get, in putting word out about my books.

The Demon Siege Trilogy
Authors Page
Twitter: @K_J_Ester

(Book-1) Hell in a Storm
Amazon (Printed & Ebook)
Barnes & Noble
Smashwords
Kobo

(Book-2) Descent of Darkness
Amazon (Printed & Ebook)
Barnes & Noble
Smashwords
Kobo

If you enjoy my books, I would like to ask you the favor of helping me spread word about my novels. Please leave a link to my Author's Page in your Facebook or Twitter and tell friends who enjoy the Fantasy Genre as well.

Thanks!

Hell In a Storm - Free!

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Mon, 13 Aug 2012 23:33:00 +0000

Sorry for the late notice. I have been through some very rough times lately and between moving, working a full time job and desparately trying to finish "Descent of Darkness", the second book of the Demon Siege Trilogy, I forgot to leave the update here that my first ebook "Hell in a Storm" is free to download the entire novel at Smashword.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/160929

It can be downloaded in most forms of Ebook readers as well as straight from your computer.

I have decided that it is more important to get my name out there and as many people to read the book as possible. The more who read the first book, the more who might be willing to spend a couple of dollars for the second book in the series. Which is coming very soon by the way.

I hope you enjoy "Hell in a Storm", and if you do, I really hope you will return to the novel's Smashwords page where you downloaded it to leave a good (But Honest) review.

New Coupon for Hell in a Storm

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Sat, 19 May 2012 03:38:00 +0000

Since Hell in a Storm is a new novel from a new author, I decided it would be best to offer it free for a short time in hopes people will read it, like it, and spread word about it. Especially since I feel it gets much better near the end.

So please feel free to enter the code UL74Q when you purchase it and it should be FREE. My Smashwords page lists the coupon as only 99% of however, so if you have a problem getting it free, please let me know through E-mail, and I will gift you a copy to the email address you reply from..

This is a limited offer at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/160929.

If you enjoy the book, please leave a good review!

Hell in a Storm - Now Available

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Thu, 10 May 2012 22:40:00 +0000

Hell in a Storm, my latest novel, and book-1 of the 'Demon Siege Trilogy' is now available as an E-Book at the price of $2.99. If you do not have a Kindle or other E-book reader, do not be discouraged. Hell in a Storm is also available in a downloadable format for reading on your computers.

The first 25% of the book is also available as a free preview so you can give it a try before deciding if you want to spend the money to finish it.

If you should purchase my book by June 10th, 2012, please enter the coupon code FN47Y to get a 30% discount.

Hell in a Storm is now available at Smashwords and should be available in most E-Book stores in a couple of weeks. However, it will not be available at Amazon just yet. I will be working on that one.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/160929

Hell in a Storm - Update

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 14:53:00 +0000

Well so far my novel has not caught the interest of an agent. Yet I have renewed hope. I do not believe it is any weakness in my writing of the novel that caused agents to turn it away but possibly the weakness of the Synopsis and therefore I have recently rewritten the Synopsis.

I also believe it may be the subject as well, but I hope not. I have read many novels about heroes like Druss the Legend (by David Gemmell) having to fight a demon. I have not however, read to many books where someone was demon possessed. Not in the fantasy genre at least. I have never read a book where there were angels and those I have heard of or seen in movies are usually angels that were cast out of heaven and corrupt. I fear there is an image in peoples minds (most importantly the Agents minds), that angels fighting demons would be too much of the Christian genre and turn them away.

"Hell in a Storm" reveals the spirit world closer to how I believe it is, but it revolves more around the human characters. It has its religious aspect, but it has much more in the ways of the warriors. In fact I fear that "Hell in a Storm" may be too much in between the Fantasy genre and the Religious category. It has more about the angels who serve a loving God and their battle against the demons who want nothing more than to destroy what God loves most, the humans, than other Fantasy books do. Yet it has far too much blood and violence and a little too much cussing to be sent to Christian publishers. In a weird way, Hell in a Storm bridges the gap between Fantasy and Religion and I fear that might cause both sides to shy away.

I hope and I pray that there will be an agent who can look past that and just try reading the book itself. I believe they will like the characters and even though they will know the ending from the synopsis, they will like the two small twists at the end.

Since "Hell in a Storm" is the first book in the Demon Siege Trilogy, I have a good start on the second book already. I believe the second book might be better and I have a bigger surprise planned for the end. The third book will have something in it that will be the gateway into another series of books... if I get that far. There will be no reason to continue that far if I cannot get Hell in a Storm picked up first. Unfortunately, this is not Star Wars and I don't know if it would work to start of in the middle of a trilogy.

I can only hope and pray that the new Synopsis will make the difference.

Hell In a Storm - My Next Book

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Sat, 15 Oct 2011 03:21:00 +0000

I recently finished my new book, 'Hell in a Storm'. I am in the process of sending my query submissions to agents and I am really hoping one will be interested enough to give it a look.

I look back at my other books and realize I was not ready. Even the book I placed on this site, 'Maroz', was not good enough to make the shelves. Trust me, it is never easy for a writer to admit their work was not good, but however much it pains me, the truth is the truth and it was not good enough.

Another important fact however, is that practice really goes a long ways to making one better. With the completion of Hell in a Storm, I really feel confident it is worthy of being in print. It is the first of my books I truly felt that way about. It is the first book I have gotten anyone else to read (other than on this blog). My best friend read it and enjoyed it. I know, I know, friends and family will say things are good because they don't want to hurt you. I think he would laugh at that statement as much as I do. We have never had a problem with keeping it straight with each other. If he did not enjoy it, he would have had no problem saying so. In fact there were many parts that he didn't care for and that made me go back over those parts and see what I needed to fix. In the end however, my friend, who does not read fiction to begin with, wished he could go out and buy the next book.

I am hoping beyond all hope that I will find an agent who will read it. I dream a dozen dreams every day of that moment I hear and agent tell me they want to represent me. Every night in bed I lose myself in the fantasy that I will someday hear an agent tell me the publisher likes my book. I do not dream of being rich or famous. I dream of doing well enough that it will pay for my bills, my wife will not have to work her lousy job, and I can take care of my mother. I dream of seeing my pen-name in print and knowing that is my new career. Working from home, using my imagination, rather than working 9 to 11 hours a day in a job that has no real future.

I cannot explain in mere words how hard it is on me to get up early every morning after spending the night trying to sleep because I cannot seem to shut down my mind. My imagination is like a world of its own and too often it controls me rather than the other way around. I sometimes think that writer's block must be something made up. It simply cannot be real. After all, who could ever have a problem with coming up with something to add to a story? I know it is real. It is just hard to picture it. In fact, it may be the only thing I cannot imagine.

Well, if I go through my list of agents and cannot find one to represent me, I will then begin to add 'Hell in a Storm' as the next book here at My Fantasy Novel. You will have to forgive me for saying that I really hope it does not come down to that. With each rejection, it is a knife to the heart of my dreams, but I must continue to search and hope.

If you happen to be an agent, you can find my query letter by clicking on Hell in a Storm.

Hell In a Storm - Query

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Sat, 15 Oct 2011 03:09:00 +0000

Dear Agent

....I am currently seeking representation for my novel “Hell in a Storm”, a completed 73,000 word fantasy, and the first book of the Demon Siege Trilogy. I am currently working on the 2nd book in the series and have the basis of the third in mind already.

....Many people believe in demons and ghosts, and yet they never consider there might be angels. Many never consider, or believe, there could be an ongoing war between the two entities. In ‘Hell in a Storm’ I have brought the war between angels and demons into the world of Fantasy.

....The King of Mazwar is possessed by the High Demon, Shirakhul, and has initiated the darkest of curses. The existence of the human race is threatened and its only hope is in the disappearance of the King’s youngest daughter.
....Forbidden to take on a physical form, the angels turn to a few humans. They will need to find the young woman before the minions of hell can lay their hands on her, and at all cost, they must keep Shirakhul from completing his ritual.
....The hope of humanity now rests in the hands of a troubled priest, a thief hunter, a warrior from a foreign land and a small band of thieves. Finding the girl is dangerous. Keeping her safe from the Demon Lord is another matter all together.

....I have been writing since 2002 and have written several novels as well as my blogs on-line. I have yet to experience writers block and do not believe I ever will, for it is harder for me to stop my imagination long enough to sleep, than it is to prod it to life.

If you are an established literary agent and would be interested in reading 'Hell In a Storm', please email me at Kenja824@hotmail.com

A Letter to my Readers

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 06:09:00 +0000

Dear Readers

First I would like to take a second and reveal a little about myself. I found I have a love for writing back in 2003. Before that I have never written more than a few demented Christmas poems. In 2003 I began my first novel by writing for a half an hour every day at lunch time at my job.

I have never taken any kind of creative writing course or class in school. Everything I know about writing a full length story comes from reading other novels and seeing what the other authors do. Although I am proud of myself for doing as well as I do in writing, considering I am completely self taught, I also realize I am failing in areas. After all, if I was great, I would be published by now. The problem lies in the fact that I am ignorant of where I am at my weakest.

Do I over analyze the story? Is it not descriptive enough? Am I screwing up my grammar? Are my characters too alike? IS the story in itself boring?

My greatest goal would be to someday be good enough to be published. However, I am a poor man as my career as an automotive engineer has come to an end due to the crumbling economy. I cannot afford to take a course or pay someone to edit my work. So the only way I will ever become good enough to publish is if I learn what I am doing wrong and fix it.

For this reason I would ask anyone who reads my book to critique it as well. Whether it be my grammar or my story telling or whatever. I will not say I will take everyone for his word and do everything I am advised, but I will take anything and everything into consideration and try to learn from it. So any help whether it be left in comments or emailed to me would be greatly appreciated. However, if you do e-mail me, please write "Maroz" in the subject.

P.S.

I am mostly done with my new book, "A Storm of Demons". However, due to the stress of facing Christmas and being broke I have been having a hard time getting into the mood to write. Once that book is done, I will be sending a query letter to some agents in hopes of interesting one. If that fails, I will be placing that book on-line for all to read as I have done with Maroz. In the mean time I may be adding some small tidbits in the future.

Maroz 13 - Conviction

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 03:20:00 +0000

Ramos sat on his horse wondering how he could go on keeping away from where he saw Willim hiding. How in the world did he get in there? The only answer he could come up with was that there was another opening somewhere but he was sure if there was one they would have found it. For four days they searched the hill of stones and still the Lieutenant showed no signs of giving up. How long could Willim last in there?

The sound of a horse riding up brought Ramos out of his thoughts and he watched as the rider climbed down and walked to the Lieutenant with an envelope in his hand. Breaking the seal, Lieutenant Shaker retrieved the parchment of paper inside and read it. Reading it a second time he nodded to himself then threw it in the fire he stood near and did not walk away until it had been completely consumed.

“It appears,” the Lieutenant, said loudly, “that we have new orders. Corporal, gather the men and break camp. We have a long ride ahead of us.” It seemed he had no intentions of telling the men what the new orders were yet.

For nearly two weeks the Lieutenant pushed the patrol, allowing them rest only long enough to keep the horse from collapsing or to sleep for four hours before mounting up and riding again. Twice they were allowed to stretch their legs while men were ordered to search a town for Willim, though those searches were quickly done for another patrol was on its way to do the same thing. Ramos had the impression that they had no such orders to search any towns, but that the Lieutenant just wanted to be the one who caught him. Riding into the city of Golom they were given their first real rest and Ramos meant to take advantage of it. He had been to Golom a few times with his folks and knew of an inn where the best tasting Willowberry pie was. Taking a couple soldiers along with him they sat at tables and ordered the pie.

“It’s about time we got a break from riding.” Joni said with his mouth full. The purplish berry juice was dripping into his red beard.

“I only wish I knew what the orders were.” Ramos said.

Setting his fork down, Kline swallowed his bite of pie before speaking. “I heard the Lieutenant speaking to the Corporal.” Both, Ramos and Joni leaned forward with interest and Kline paused for more drama before continuing. “There is a town that Malok has found to be in contempt. He wants it burned down.”

“What did they do in this town?”
“What town?”

The two questions were in unison and Kline smiled as he tried to answer them both. “He blames this town for the troubles with this Willim fellow.” He said to Joni, then looking at Ramos as he answered his question. “The town of Devlin I think he called it.”

Ramos sat there in stunned silence as he soaked in the news. Devlin, his own hometown! This was not a case of punishing a village for delving into something evil or even for suspicions of treason. This was Malok getting revenge on Willim for defying him. Now here he was, not only in Malok’s army, but he was actually in the patrol that was sent to burn it down! Somehow he was sure that it was no mistake that it was his patrol that was sent but it did not matter. He could not, would not let them do it.

“Won’t let them do what?” Joni’s question snapped Ramos out of his trance. He had not realized he had spoken out loud.

“Malok doesn’t want Devlin burnt down for any crimes!” He said to the others though he still did not look up at them. All he could see was a vision of his home burning with his parents inside. “He only wants to get even with Willim and he doesn’t care how many innocent folks die for it!”

Joni’s jaw dropped open and his shock was evident on his face. “How could you know something like that Ramos?”

“Because I’m from Devlin, Willim was my best friend and Lieutenant Hostid knows that very well!” Standing up, Ramos did not even realize he had drawn his sword until the other two backed away from him, their chairs crashing loudly to the floor. “I have no fight with you two unless you stand against me. Don’t make me kill you!” Stalking out of the inn, Ramos shoved the doors open and almost ran over another young soldier before shoving him hard out of the way.

“What’s with you? Where are you in such a hurry to get to?”

“To kill the lieutenant, so stay out of my way!” As Ramos left the soldier behind brushing himself off, he could hear him ask Kline if he was serious. What surprised him the most though was when the same soldier ran in front of him and drew his own sword. “Get out of my way Raine!” Ramos did not slow down as he walked towards the other soldier.

“I can’t let you do it Ramos. You know I can’t!”

As Raine brought his sword up to point it at him, Ramos stepped quicker and swung his own with all of his might. Ramos was one of the strongest men in the patrol and Raine one of the smallest and the force of the blow nearly knocked the sword out of the weaker man’s grip. A thought crept into Ramos head that it would have been better for Raine if he had lost his sword, for maybe then he would not have to kill him. That thought died along with Raine as Ramos shoved his sword through his fellow soldier’s abdomen. “I told you to stay out of my way.” Drawing his sword out of the smaller man, Ramos did not bother to wipe the blood off of it as he pushed Raine to the side and walked on.

Turning the corner towards the patrol’s camp just south of the town, Ramos could see the Lieutenant with the Corporal and four other soldiers heading in his direction. The two officers were talking jovially until they saw Ramos walking towards them, blood still dripping from his drawn sword. The sight must have surprised them for they all stopped in their tracks before the Corporal hurried toward him.

“What is it boy? What happened?” The Corporal’s voice held real concern as he hurried to Ramos, though if Ramos knew the grizzled old officer, the concern was more for the relations with the town than for Ramos. He had probably thought Ramos had a run in with a civilian.

The Corporal’s eyes widened with shock as Ramos slid his blade under his ribs. “You will not kill my family!” Shoving the dying Corporal off of his sword, Ramos focused on the Lieutenant and shouted. “Do you here me! You will not burn my home!”

The lieutenant stood where he was, but the four soldiers moved towards him, spreading out from each other as they drew their own swords. The soldier in front of him must have expected him to hesitate when surrounded by four soldiers. It was his greatest mistake. Running forward, Ramos brought his sword around and though the soldier was quick enough to parry his strike, he did not expect Ramos to throw his weight into him. The soldier stumbled backwards several steps, his arms flailing about as he tried to catch his balance and before he could, Ramos swung his own sword again and laid the man’s chest open then kept running at the Lieutenant. With luck, nobody but the two officers knew of the orders to burn down Devlin and if they both died nobody would for months. He would have to trust his two friends not to say anything.

The lieutenant showed why he was an officer and drew his own sword before Ramos could close the short distance. He did not look surprised by Ramos reactions at all. Ramos threw his anger into his attack and though he knew the lieutenant was a much better swordsman, he did not give the officer any time to do anything but defend himself. Hearing footsteps coming up from behind him Ramos spun in a quick circle, swing his sword causing the other soldiers to jump back before continuing the attack on the lieutenant. Still he could not find an opening in the officers defense and what began as an all out onslaught to kill one man quickly turned into fighting four soldiers at once while the lieutenant backed away into safety.

Ramos could feel his muscles begin to burn with exhaustion as he continued to swing his sword from one soldier to another, not giving any one of them a chance to strike at him. One soldier, a tall thin man moved his sword to parry Ramos’s when his foot stepped on a larger rock, rolling his ankle. The man’s wince turned into a scream as Ramos ran him through, but as Ramos tried to withdraw his blade, it got twisted in the soldier’s ribcage and was yanked from his grip. Another soldier tried taking advantage of this and charged him with his sword leveled for a thrust. Stepping to the side, Ramos winced with pain as the blade slid along his left side, leaving a deep slash. Spinning on his heels, Ramos rolled around to the soldiers back and grabbed the man from behind, then pulled the soldier around as a shield. He had expected the closest solder to be slashing with his sword, which would have only lain open the soldier he now held as a shield, only to watch as the sword was thrust through his shield and into him.

The pain of the long blade sliding deep into his stomach seemed to spread out in waves. With all of his might he shoved the man he held away, drawing the blade from his stomach. Bending to pick up the dropped weapon, Ramos felt like lightning was striking him as another soldier laid open his back. Falling to his knees with the pain he watched helplessly as a short stocky soldier raised his sword ready to give the killing blow when the lieutenant shouted to stop.

“I want him alive! I want to make an example of him as to why one does not attack the officers of Malok’s army!”

Ramos still knelt there on his knees staring at the soldier in front of him. He looked on as the soldier’s face twisted in distaste at not being allowed to kill him. Then he watched as the soldier lifted a heavy booted foot to thrust the heel at his head and everything went dark.

Continue to .... Maroz 14 - Promise of Vengeance

Maroz 12 - A City Lost

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 03:01:00 +0000

Blood running down his scalp and into his eyes, Marinek Shamil half ran and half stumbled into the city gates. The faces of those who saw him were of pure horror. What do I look like? He wondered. The answer didn’t matter to him for long before he fell, face first into the dirt. I must not die. I must warn someone. I have to tell someone, anyone that Death himself walks the earth. He struggled to open his eyes and warn them but darkness overcame him. The last thing he remembered was the feeling of hands grabbing onto him.

The next Marinek awoke was in a large room with multiple beds, some of them filled with people who were groaning. One woman in particular thrashed her arms about every few seconds and shouted something about a dragon. Documis Tor’s house! Documis, known by most to be a genius, was thought by others to be a mad man. Still those who were too sick in the head to be left out were brought to him where he treated them. There were many rumors on the streets as to what those treatments entailed and most would give one nightmares to think about. There were also those who were near death with disease and brought to him, and a few were seen again walking the streets as if nothing ever happened. Very few!

“Ah so you are awake!”

The voice was of a man up in his years though calm and gentle sounding. Turning to see the man looking at him, Marinek sat up right and backed away from him. “Don’t touch me! Where am I? Who are you? What are you?” The man’s face looked like it was blanketed in scars.

What might have been a smile or a grimace passed across the man’s face. “I am Documis Tor. I saved your life. When they found you stumbling into the city, you had lost a lot of blood. Your blood, at least I assume it was your blood, covered you nearly head to toe. Twice you had awakened, screaming frantically about death, but it seems to me you don’t have to worry about dying now.”

At the mention of Death, Marinek had to fight down the urge to scream and he looked down at the shriveled stump for his left arm. Until that moment he had forgotten what had happened and he felt like his arm was still there. “No! I am not safe from death Documis. Neither are you or anyone else in this city and maybe in the whole world!”

“Well,” said Documis, “We all die sometime. Sooner or late it is bound to happen.”

“I don’t mean death in general!” Marinek shouted the words at the scar-faced man though seeing it closer up he realized there were not so many scares. Documis had two large scares that crisscrossed his face. “I am talking about Death himself! He is in that shadow and his demons killed one hundred and fifty men I had with me. He told me to warn you that he was coming.”

“And tell me son, why would Death want to warn me that he is coming?”

“Not you, everyone! He said to tell them that our swords and axes couldn’t harm him. He said that you couldn’t kill death!”

“Tell me something would you please?” Documis still was not believing and it was evident in his calm tone as if talking calm might have an effect on his patient. “What did this Death look like?”

“Zeebulis! He called himself Zeebulis. His skin was a pasty white like he had no blood and he wore a cloak that was rotting away. His eyes…” The thought of Zeebulis’s eyes filled Marinek with fear and he had to stamp it down to continue speaking. “He had no eyes. Just empty sockets of darkness and when I looked into them I could see souls. Souls were screaming in agony. Every fear I had ever had welled up inside of me and… why are you looking at me like that?”

Giving himself a shake, Documis found a chair and sat down. “I have had some patients crying about nightmares of a man with no eyes. They have been begging me to take them away from here saying he was coming for them.”

“Some of your patients? How many of your patients have had these dreams?” Marinek had an eerie feeling he did not want the answer to his question.

“All of them!,” Documis mumbled, “Well all of the ones who have been touched in the head.”

Marinek was out of the bed instantly trying to grab Documis by the collar. Once again he was surprised to find he had no left hand to grab with and he was forced to grab hold with his one good hand. “Listen to me old man. Zeebulis is coming and you have to warn the city council! Do you hear me? He is coming!”

“My son, I can assure you I will do no such thing so long as you are pinning me to the wall like this. Now unhand me and I will go and talk to them. That is if you will come with me.”

The walk to the council building was a long one and more than once Marinek had the urge to just take someone’s horse and race away to safety. Looking off to the east he could see the sky was dark. “How long was I unconscious?”

Documis walked on another half a dozen steps before realizing Marinek had stopped. “Four days. Why?”
Looking up at the sun in the sky, Marinek was glad to see it was still early yet. “That darkness Documis,” he pointed to the east, “that is Zeebulis and if he is this close in four days, he will be here by morning.”

The city council building was one of the larger buildings and was made up of mostly one large room with some smaller meeting rooms around the sides. The council itself consisted of ten people, five women and five men. Marinek had never been in the building and would likely never remember it for how much he was paying attention. Even standing at the desk of the secretary he had not even realized he was inside until her words broke through his fears. “What was that?”

“I said sir, that the council is busy and the next I can schedule you would be two days from now.”

Without thinking, Marinek reached for the woman behind the desk. I’ll wring an immediate appointment out of her neck! He thought. Only when he did reach for her all she had to do is scoot back out of reach of the stump he shoved towards her. Before he could move to grab her with his one good hand though, Documis put a hand in front of him.

“There are ways to handle this and violence is not one of them.” Turning his attention to the woman once again Documis leaned gently towards her and smiled. “I understand that the council members are very busy people, my good lady. Believe me I would rather not have to bother them but it is of utmost importance that I do see them and immediately.”

The woman smiled back for a moment before replying. “I suppose I could get you in earlier.”

Documis’s smile was cut short when she continued. “Perhaps tomorrow afternoon?”

Again Marinek moved to grab her and Documis stopped him and smiled at the woman once more before speaking. “Dear woman. The bloody ruined stump my friend seems to enjoy waving in your face? He received that from what is in that shadow crawling towards the city. We need to speak to the council or this city will be lost by tomorrow. So please tell me which office I would find the council in or I am going to start searching them one by one while my friend here returns to sticking his stump in your face.”

The woman was not about to be seen pointing out the office but she moved her eyes to stare at one particular door. The two men wasted no time in pushing through it to face a startled four women and three men eating their mid day meal.

“What in the blazes is this?” The man who shouted was a short puffy looking character with a bald head. “I will have you two arrested and hung for…”

“Now my friend.” Documis said to Marinek. “I will let you handle this your way.”

An hour later the two men walked outside frowning. Marinek was sure they would see reason once it was all explained to them yet they showed no signs of worrying about Zeebulis. “I cannot believe they actually think these walls will keep them safe. Well at least they have given us two hours to leave the city before they call the guards.”

“You can use those two hours if you like.” Documis said. “Personally I plan on being away immediately. I do not think I want to trust those pompous idiots to keep their word.”

Marinek nodded in agreement and the two men went their own way. Unfortunately the older man was right and before Marinek could finish packing, guards busted in his door. His hands tied behind his back he walked along quietly. Somehow he did not think it would make any difference if he protested they had not given him his allotted time.

Ushering him down the streets, others stopped and watched as they went by. Twice someone made a joke at his expense and Marinek ignored them. Their laughter only slightly registered with him as he tried desperately not to look at the approaching darkness as he continued to wonder how to get away. Next door to the Council building was a small stone building with small windows and it was inside there the guards took him. Ten cells lined each wall just barely large enough to fit a small cot. At the end of the hall was a guard with red hair was sitting at a desk.

“What’s your name? Where are you from and what did you do?” The words were spoken without much thought and the guard never even looked up from his papers as he asked his questions.

“Marinek Shamil is my name Samel!”

Instantly the guard looked up to see his old friend standing there tied up. “Marinek, what are you doing here? What did you do now?”

“I tried to warn the council that the city is in danger is what I did.” Holding his stub of an arm in front of him so Samel could see it he continued. “See this? It was melted off Samel. Not cut or burnt but melted! One hundred and fifty men with swords and axes died out there in that shadow to the east. I tried to warn the council but they would not listen. Maybe if they sent the whole of their army they might have a chance at beating this but I doubt it. Now all I want to do is get away Samel. Get away before the shadow reaches us.”

Samel considered the rumors he had heard about the looming darkness to the east. “I’m sorry Marinek, there isn’t anything I can do. I have a family to feed. If I let you go I would lose my job.”

“You won’t have a family to feed if you don’t get them away Samel.”

Samel only shook his head before answering. “I’m sorry Marinek. I really am. I will try to talk to my commander. Maybe he can get you released, but that is all I can do.”

Being guided into a cell, Marinek watched as his old friend left to find his commander. With nothing more to do but wait, he lay down on the cot and closed his eyes wondering how close the shadow was getting.

When a scream sounded out somewhere in the city, Marinek opened his eyes to a dark cell. How long did I sleep? More screams sounded, then those were followed by many more. In moments it sounded as if the whole city was screaming in horror. Lifting himself up to a small window above his cot, Marinek almost choked with fear himself. Demons of all shapes and sizes were swarming over the city. People ran in every direction while the demons killed at will. From one house across the road Marinek could see three larger winged demons dragging a woman into the street where they began to peel the skin from her body. Her screams nearly drowned out the rest of the cities as the torture went on. The sound of the cell house’s door opening brought Marinek around and he backed himself up against the far wall as a large demon with a ruined looking face walked towards him.

“I knew you were here. I could smell you. Once I have a taste of something I never lose it.” It was the same demon that had torn the flesh from his arm.

Through the ceiling, two writhes descended towards Marinek, their shadowed cloaks waving in every direction as if made of mist. Marinek looked up just as the closest started reaching out a long thin hand towards him and screamed as it clasped onto him. Its other hand reached inside of his chest and he could feel his very life being pulled out of him. Pain enveloped him but not so much as he would have expected and the room around him began to fade into darkness.

“No!” Lozimum’s shout caused both writhes to pause as they turned to see him. “He is mine for now! When I am done with his flesh you can have his soul, but for now he is mine!”

Neither writhe liked it but they both knew Lozimum was one of Zeebulis’s highest demons and neither would face him down. Releasing Marinek’s soul they backed away, passing through the wall to find another soul to take.

Once released, Marinek collapsed to the cot in a sweat, shaking from head to toe. The feeling of having your soul ripped partially out of your body then released was more than he ever imagined it could be. Rolling over he looked up to see Lozimum wrench two of the thick steel bars to his cell out and toss them aside. “Why? Why do you hate me?” Marinek was still shaking visibly as he tried in vain to reason with the demon before him.

“Why?” Lozimum looked confused at the question. “Is there a reason to hate? Hate, pain and fear, they are all we know in hell. You will soon find this out.”

Marinek’s screams were heard throughout the city but nobody noticed them over top of their own.

Continue to .... Maroz 13 - Conviction

Maroz 11 - Water and Earth

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 03:53:00 +0000

Opening his eyes Willim took in a long deep breath as if to reassure himself that he really could. “Oh man, I thought that was the end for sure.” He spoke the words in a near whisper to himself.

“It likely would have been if I had not laid my pride aside and begged for your life.”

Turning his head, Willim was surprised to see the Lieutenant standing there in the doorway. “I kind of remember something like that before I blacked out. I owe you.”

Walking the rest of the way in, Lieutenant Cleese sat in a chair beside the door, his feet barely reaching the floor, as he ran his short fingers through his near black hair. “You don’t owe me anything lad. I did it for the good of the army not for you. Word reached me that two of our three elementals were killed in an ambush on patrol. If he had killed you I would have only had one left.”

Sitting up on the bed Willim once again took another deep breath. “So what is my punishment for insubordination? I mean I defied the Emperor to his face. That must come with some consequences.”

A worried look came over Cleese’s face. “Oh it will boy. You can bet on that! But he is a sly one Malok is. He will hit you where it hurts most when you least expect it. As of yet he has not issued any discipline.”

So for three weeks Willim worried about what the emperor would do to him and nothing happened. He trained with the others part of the time and trained with Tremores the rest of the time. After a long workout with his sword, Willim’s body was dripping with sweat and he grabbed a towel to wipe himself down as he studied the city down below. Even after all this time he still could not get used to watching a city from up above it. The practice yards were high up on the plateau with the palace and from his position he could see the whole eastern side of Maroth.

The sounds of boots stomping on the packed ground brought Willim around to find a middle-aged soldier wearing the corporal’s raven pinned to his collar walking up to him. Willim had never seen this man before and didn’t much care for him right from the start. Too skinny to have seen much exercise in recent years he had a hard look in his eyes that gave his face an insolent look. “You have orders soldier Pillar. You are to report to Jenks at the west wing of the palace. Remember, the west wing. If you are seen anywhere else you will be punished by death.”

Willim only nodded to the man and waited for him to make his way away from him before sliding his shirt back on. The west wing from what he understood was the janitorial wing. Supplies for construction, tools, anything dirty was kept in that wing to keep the rest of the palace clean. The walk was a long one as the practice yards were on the east side of the palace and he had to make his way around the outside to enter through the western entrance. Willim didn’t mind the walk though. It gave him time to think on what he might be heading into. Jenks? Who was Jenks and what rank was he? He had never heard the name before. What would they need him there for? Probably gonna give me the task of burning some trash! The waste was kept in the west wing as well and the thought of smelling old trash burning didn’t set well with him. Fire! I would have to have the ability to manipulate fire wouldn’t I? Why couldn’t it be something useless like spirit or something? You never hear too much about elementals who use spirit. Willim had never seen either of the guards who now stood outside of the western doors but they definitely knew him by the way they nodded as he passed them. Pushing through the doors, he walked along the silent halls listening to the sounds of his heels echoing away as he searched for anyone who could give him directions. He should have asked the guards but he still had a hard time dealing with the way other soldiers stared at him because he was an elemental. Since his run in with Malok, the looks were far worse.

“Took you long enough boy!” The voice was that of an older woman and Willim smiled as he turned to ask her where Jenks was. He had barely opened his mouth before the old woman cut him off. “Malok said you were a strong shouldered one and you will need to be for this job boy. Now throw on one of those aprons and come with me. You have some work to do.”

Grabbing an apron from a rack on the wall the old woman pointed at, Willim tied it on as he followed behind her. “I was supposed to report to Jenks ma’am. I am not sure what rank he is or what he looks like but…”

“I am Jenks boy. Garnera Jenks! I am definitely not a he and I have no rank, but you will be working for me this week!”

Willim followed her for another ten minutes in shocked silence. A week? Doing what? I am supposed to be a soldier not a cook’s helper. Not that I want to be a soldier but that doesn’t change that I am. On and on his thoughts whirled as he followed behind Garnera Jenks as they walked down hall after hall and descended a dark stairways. I sure don’t want to be a cook’s helper either! What kind of chore am I… The thought froze in his mind as they entered into a large room two levels lower than where he entered the palace. A walkway went from the door along one wall keeping them higher than the water that filled the floor of the room and the stench nearly made him toss the lunch he still hadn’t eaten. The sewage room!

“See those holes along the far wall?” Garnera asked as she pointed them out. “Those are gutter holes. Any rain we receive runs through piping and into this room to help wash the sewage out.” Pointing at a large tunnel in another wall that was blocked off by barred gates, she continued. “The water is supposed to wash it out through those tunnels and down to the bay!”

As Garnera was still explaining, darkened water fell from a hole in the ceiling to splash loudly into the flooded room. Looking closer, Willim realized there were several of the holes throughout the ceiling of the large room. “The water doesn’t seem to be moving to me.”

Garnera gave him a sarcastic look as she continued to speak. “You are to clear the tunnel of debris so the water can flow out. Once the water is out you are to wash the debris out as well.”

Holding a set of keys out she waited patiently for him to take them before continuing on. “There are gates every one hundred feet to keep out intruders. Be sure to lock them up again when you are through each day. I will send Claire to bring you food at lunch. Boy, I don’t know what you did to deserve this, but Malok sure has it out for you.”

Watching the woman walking away and laughing, Willim gave her a stare of death, though in truth he knew it was not her fault. She doesn’t have to laugh at it though! Along the wall were a few sets of wide boots that would come up near the length of his legs and he slipped them on before grabbing the long rake, which leaned against the wall next to the boots. Of all the chores he could have been given, Malok made sure he had gotten the one he could not use his ability with fire. Of course Malok did not know he had no desire to twist any elements anyway so it was all for the better.

Minutes turned to hours as Willim lost himself in the work as much as he could. For five days he worked deep into the tunnels pushing waste further along and more than once had the pleasure of some more refuse falling on him while cleaning the debris from the room. The odor that was so horrible at first became nearly unbearable as time went on.

On the fifth day he had finished locking all of the gates and was cleaning waste out of his hair where the fresh water rushed in when the door opened admitting the old woman again. “Looks like you are about done here and not a minute too soon either. There is another job for you. It seems you have let birds and squirrels in through the tunnels and now you will have to comb the west wing for them and get them out.”

“You are kidding me right?” Willim drew himself up to his full height and tried to look down at the woman with authority as he spoke. “You know very well I did no such thing Garnera. Now if you don’t have anything of any real importance for me to do I think I will be going.”

Placing her fist on her hips the old woman gave him a hard eyed look as she spoke; her gray bun almost falling out did nothing to take away from her demeanor. “First off, I am Jenks to you. Nobody calls me by my first name! Secondly, you will be doing no such thing! And don’t even try taking that stance with me lad it won’t be working here. Now dry off and get to work!”

Willim opened his mouth to argue but shut it again as the woman walked away from him. It would do him no good to argue with her back and he was already sure the woman would not turn around if he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Set right from one demeaning task to an even more meaningless task!” Stepping outside of the room he turned and shut the door tight when he saw something in the corner of his eye. A large net with a long handle leaned against the wall next to the door.

The next three weeks were much the same. As soon as he finished one senseless task he was set on another until one day he had just finished cleaning the glass of his thirty-seventh oil lamp. Setting the glass back in place he turned and walked right past the rest of the dirty ones and went to find Jenks. After only twenty minutes of walking and back tracking and following bad directions from others he met, he found her in a large library sitting and reading. The sight of her lounging around while he worked his butt off only added fuel to his already boiling anger. He had lost weeks of sword practice that he could never get back now.

When Jenks saw him she stood up and put her fist to her hips again. “What are you doing here boy? You are supposed to be…”

“I am supposed to be doing the endless task of cleaning the lamps that any of the rest of the help could do!” The whole time Willim had been walking he had been ready to shout at her but seeing her kicking her feet up changed that. His temper went from boiling to a cold fury and his words came out calm and as cold as he felt. “I am supposed to be learning how to be a soldier not hired help for the palace. If you want the lamps cleaned you will have to find someone else to order around or clean them yourself. I am finished here.” Turning around he walked away, ignoring every word the old woman shouted at his back.

“Where have you been Willim?”

Stopping and looking around, Willim was surprised to find he had already made his way out to the soldier’s grounds. “Oh, hey Ramos, I have been busy in the palace. Malok has found it amusing to have me set to senseless deeds these days.”

Ramos ran his fingers through his blonde hair and chuckled as he stepped along side of his friend. “Yeah I heard about that story of you and Malok. You are sure popular with the other recruits and even some of the soldiers. So what happened? He get bored with the game and send you back here?”
“Nah, I just got fed up with it and walked out.”

Willim had walked another half a dozen steps before realizing his friend had stopped. Ramos just stood there for a moment before letting out a long low whistle while running his fingers through his long blonde hair. “You do like to dance with a dragon don’t you?”

“Aw give in Ramos. Malok only wants to harass me and I won’t play that game with anyone even if he is an emperor. You know very well you wouldn’t either. I’m sick of how everyone hates Malok but nobody will stand up to him. Anyway, what is he going to do? He won’t kill me because I am too valuable now remember? Come on; let’s go practice some sword work. I haven’t practiced in too long.”

As he turned towards the practice yard, Ramos followed along shaking his head. “I’m not so sure if you have a lot of brains Willim but you got courage, that’s for sure.”

For two hours they worked out when Tremores showed up at the yard calling them to hold up. “You did it this time Willim. I just heard orders come in to Captain Hanier to have you shackled and put in a dungeon. Malok is livid with you for some reason.”

Willim and Ramos shared a long knowing look before Willim turned back to Tremores. “Nobody is shackling me! I will die first! I can’t stay here anymore. There is no way I am going in a cell and nobody will stop me from leaving!” Remembering that Tremores was an elemental and a much more experienced one, Willim looked at the man and asked. “What about you Tremores? Will you let me leave or am I gonna have to fight you?”

Tremores grimaced as he shook his head. “I don’t want to fight you Willim, not any more than I think you want to fight me. But if they send me after you I will be forced to keep my orders. I’m sorry! But I will do this for you. I will tell them I haven’t seen you and they will search for you in the camp first. That will give you a couple of hours, head start.”

It only took Willim ten minutes to pack his bag and say good-bye to his friends before riding out on the best horse he could find. The sun was setting as he rode out of the main gates of Maroth and headed east. He knew some of the lay of the land to the east and had less of a chance of being cornered. The last thing he wanted to do was fight anyone.

After riding the night through, the sun was just climbing over the horizon when the wind picked up a bit bringing the sounds of horses from behind him. Stopping at the top of a slope he watched his back trail until he saw them. At least five hundred men had been sent after him and they had ridden the night through as well. “I hope you are not with them Ramos. You to Tremores.” Turning his horse he kicked it into a trot and stayed to as much grass as possible to keep the noise down. It wasn’t enough!

From behind him he could hear the horses coming hard and he dug his heels in, laying low against the horse’s neck. Stealing a look back over his shoulder he was surprised to see the soldiers falling behind as his horse stretched out for speed, yet somehow he knew his horse still had another gear if it needed it. “They will never catch me on this horse! The thought was barely into his head when the front right leg of his horse went into a rabbit hole with a sickening snap, sending them both into a tumble. Head over heels Willim fell before coming to a stop on his back, looking up into the dusk sky.

Rolling over, Willim got to his hands and knees and scrambled to where his horse lay, still struggling to get up on a leg that was broken in half. Grabbing his bag from the saddle he drew his belt knife. “Sorry horse. I never even had a chance to name you.” Running the edge of his knife along the horse’s throat, Willim scrambled back from the blood that flowed out. It all only took a moment but Willim could hear the soldiers getting close so he got up and ran to a small stand of trees. In the distance was his objective, a large hill of rocks and large boulders he might lose himself in, but without his horse he would not get there. As he ran past the first tree he heard the soldiers shout that they had seen where he went.

“Let’s just see how willing they are to come closer to an elemental.” Placing his hands against each other out in front of him he spread them wide apart. A large flame sprouted up from the ground half way between him and his pursuers and fanned out to make a long wall of fire the soldiers could not cross. “That should hold them for a few.”

Snatching up his bag, he ran again towards the hill of rocks, the sounds of soldiers shouting orders and horses whinnying from beyond the fire filled his ears. Pain began to pound in his sides as he ran with each breath becoming a labor to draw in. Placing a hand to his ribs he realized he must have cracked a rib in the fall.. Still he ran with one arm pressed against his side until at the base of the rocks he could hear the pounding of hooves behind him. Turning to look back, he stretched out one hand toward the oncoming soldiers, spraying hundreds of small spheres of flame toward them. The soldiers who were struck fell off their horses in a panic as they tried to frantically put out the fire while others horses reared and turned. By the time they got their mounts under control again, Willim had made his way into the safety of the rocks.

Scrambling up the rocks, Willim had to stop and catch his breath from time to time and it was at one of those times he turned and let his back press against a tall flat rock to rest. As soon as his weight went against it, the rock fell over to slam hard against another boulder. Catching his balance, Willim found himself staring at a cave that had been closed off by the upright boulder. A small spray of fire was enough to light up the inside of the cave and Willim was shocked to see there was a set of steps that led down from the opening. Makes one wonder who was hiding this cave? Then another thought hit him. Or what they were hiding! Looking around him, Willim made a decision then. With the darkening sky, the soldiers would have a hard time finding this cave, yet it would provide a good place to hide while they looked. If they do find it, they will see what fire can do in closed quarters!

The steps were covered in years of dust and dirt blown in through small openings around the boulder. Holding a small ball of fire ahead of him, Willim descended to the bottom to where it opened up into a large room. Adding to the ball of fire he lit the room up to see what he thought he never would. The room had a large oak table in the middle that was big enough to sit eleven men of who ten were still sitting in their high backed chairs. At least their bones were. Each, skeleton ass slumping either over the side of the chair or over the table and had a pewter cup in front of him with one large pitcher in the table that Willim could only imagine had held wine. Next to the pitcher was a smaller vile lying on its side. It was enough to tell him that they must have been poisoned. At the far end of the room was a large round platform with ten stone blocks set in a tight circle; each block having a thin rectangular slot cut through it in an angle upwards so that the openings on the inside of the circle was higher than those on the outside. The far wall held a mural of a man standing naked inside of those same stone structures with men standing at each of the blocks. The men on the outside of the blocks were thrusting swords through the slots and into the man in the center. Must be some kind of sacrificial ceremony! Suddenly Willim’s eyes were attracted to the two sidewalls, which held the most exquisite swords he had ever seen.

On one wall there were five while on the other there were only three swords, though he could see the mounts for two more. What had happened to the other two swords?

Striding over to one of the walls he lifted a sword from its mounts and looked it over in awe. The handle was wrapped in black leather and the blade was long, slender and as black as the handle with gold etching along the blade in some foreign language. Holding the blade out he tried a few of the forms he had been taught in his short stint as a soldier. Though he was far from an expert swordsman, he knew immediately the balance on this sword was perfect.

The sound of rock falling drew his attention and replacing the sword he hurried up the steps to see where his pursuers were. Only fifty paces away from him were a half dozen soldiers climbing straight at him. He had to do something he knew for if he let it go they would climb right into the cave. He could probably defeat them if they all tried rushing down the stairs but he had no desire to torch men alive unless he had to. What do I do? I have to do something. I have to! If only I was strong enough to move this boulder back in place! What am I to do? I don’t want to kill anyone!

A small scraping sound drew his attention and he looked down at the bottom of the boulder. Dirt had furrowed from it when it had moved a couple of inches. For a long time Willim just stared at the boulder. I felt it! I felt something when that moved! Concentrating on the boulder he willed it to move again and it did. Again he focused and this time the boulder slid across the opening. I did it!

For nearly a half an hour Willim stood staring at the boulder in front of him while listening to the soldiers coming closer. I can manipulate two elements! Soon the soldiers were searching just on the other side of the stone barrier from him. Two! As the soldiers went on past him, a tired depression seemed to set over him. I never wanted one and now I can control two! I will be more famous than ever if this gets out. Another hour crawled by as he sat there on the steps in the dark considering his options before he finally made up his mind. Complaining about set backs wouldn’t get him anywhere. Learn to accept them and move on and do the best you can. Nobody can ask for more. Willim’s mother used to quote that to him more often than he liked. Now it seemed the advice made sense though he was sure she would claim he was just growing up finally. The more he thought on it the more he realized the abilities would likely save him at times in the future. Until then it was not as if he had to tell anyone he could control even one much less two elements.

Descending back down the steps he created another ball of fire and looked over the room again. The soldiers would likely spend another day looking for him and he had nothing better to do until they left. At one corner of the room there stood a small writing table with a bottle of ink, a pen, paper, a large book and a lamp. Using his first ability, Willim lit the lamp before he even reached the table then sat down to look at the book. Turning over the cover the first thing he found was a single sheet of loose paper and he turned it over to read the writing.

I am sorry! I just do not believe I am the one they thought I was. I could not go through with the sacrifice for I do not want to die. The plague may be the darkness in the prophecy but I am not He! I can only control four, spirit being the one I am without and three of the four are nearly weak enough that I may as well have no ability at all. Yet they insisted the spirit must be there and we just cannot see it. Forgive me for putting the safety of the world at risk out of fear of dying. Forgive me for what I did to my friends.

Willim read it again then turned to look at the table with the ten skeletons. “Explains what happened to the missing two swords.” Then thinking on it, another thought hit him. “You were right about the sacrifice friend. You were not him! The plague has passed a long time ago, but it doesn’t excuse you from killing your friends. Then again if they were going to kill you, you had every right.”

Turning the pages in the book, Willim skimmed through until he came to a page with a title at the top. Prophecy! His attention being thoroughly trapped he read on.

Death will come, riding on a black horse to swallow the world in his shadow. They and He of the five will bind together and the sixth will defeat the darkness.
The ten will take up swords and his blood on the blades will reveal. Each must speak the words for his fate those words will seal.
Death he will face twice. Once to avoid and once to fight. His faith in the sixth will defeat the shadow.

It made sense to Willim why they had thought the plague would be the ‘darkness’. He had heard that nearly one fifth of the population died from the plague so they must have believed Death truly was covering the world in its shadow. Reading on he became engrossed in the book as it went on to explain the ceremony and the sacrifice along with different philosophers explanations as to why there must be a sacrifice and such. A long jaw-cracking yawn forced him to pull his eyes away and he realized he must have been reading for hours. A little sleep would not hurt right then. Yet sleep would not come for a long time as he leaned back in his chair staring at the dead ten, the stone pedestals for the ceremony, the mural as well. Why would they build this one room under ground?

Startling awake, Willim was surprised he had fallen asleep. The room still stood the same way around him as when he fell asleep, the glow of the lamp giving it a warm and cozy illusion. How long have I been sleeping? Making his way drowsily up the long stone stairs he paused at the boulder blocking the opening. After a long moment waiting he was about to move the giant rock aside when a boot crunching in the dirt near by froze him. How could they still be looking for me?

“I’m telling you ‘Chapes’, he is nowhere to be found. We have been combing this hill all of last night and now most of the day and he just isn’t here.” A small crevice near the bottom of the boulder allowed Willim to peak out with a very limited view. Neither the speaker nor Chapes was in view.

“Well the ground is flat for miles around this hill Sokoris. He has to be here somewhere!”

The top of a helmet appeared in Willim’s view as someone else climbed upwards towards the other two soldiers. When the head came in view, Willim was surprised to see it was Ramos. The shock of seeing his friend in armor was enough to give him just enough of a pause before pulling away from the opening and Ramos’s eyes met his. He wouldn’t give me away would he? Immediately he felt shame for even allowing the question to make its way into his thoughts. Ramos had been his best friend for years. There was nobody he would trust sooner. The two stood staring at each other for a long moment.

“I’m talking to you soldier! Any signs of him?”

The rough voice of Chapes snapped Ramos’s eyes away. “I’m sorry sir. I was just lost in thought. No sir, I haven’t seen hide or hair of him. I don’t think we will either. Willim is good in the hills sir. He is also a very fast runner. As far as we know he may well have crossed that distance to those trees while we climbed up this hill.”

“Well if he got away then he got away soldier,” Chapes was saying, “but if he is hiding we will find him. Keep looking.”

Another day passed by and the soldiers still searched the hill while Willim sat in silence wishing they would leave. His mouth was feeling like it was filled with cotton and sand and with every minute the pitcher of poisoned wine on the table became more tempting. If there was any wine in it! He had never looked inside of it. With the hot sun beating on the rocks above, the room grew hot as well throughout the day and his sweat dripped from his brow as he dreamt of drinking water. Oh how sweet a little rainwater would taste right then.

The day turned to night then back to day again and he lay on the steps considering giving himself up if they would give him some water. Why don’t they just give up already? Yet they didn’t give up and he laid there thinking he would die from his parched throat before he gave himself back to Malok. Rain! I just need it to rain, is all! Just a little rain!

The air in the room suddenly began to grow humid causing him to desire the rain all the more. Then a loud crack sounded from outside and he could hear the sound of rain spattering off of the hard ground. The rain fell heavier with every minute until soon it began to puddle up near the crevice at the bottom of the boulder. A small river poured in down the steps and Willim could only stare at it for a long time before scooping some up to drink. As soon as the water went into his mouth he spit it out for it had so much dirt mixed in with it. Running down the steps he grabbed an empty mug from in front of one of the skeletons and ran back up the steps two at a time. Manipulating earth to move the boulder aside just enough Willim reached the cup out and rinsed it out several times before finally letting it fill to drink. Cleaning out three more cups he let them fill with rainwater as well before the rain stopped. Making his way back down he sat in the chair and closed his eyes. Water! He had felt himself draw the rain clouds to him. Fire, Earth and now Water! Three elements! This time it did not upset him so much as he gratefully sipped the fresh water in the mug.

Continue to .... Maroz 12 - A City Lost

Maroz 10 - A Match With Malok

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 22:00:00 +0000

Sitting with his back to a log, his head tilted up to let the sun sooth his face, Willim wondered how his mother was doing. His father would be fine he was sure, the man was always fine however hard things got, but his mother seemed to worry about everything. Willim’s mother would likely worry every day and night about his health if he knew her well enough. Someday he would see her again and nobody would stop him. Not even Malok himself. I didn’t ask to join this blasted army!

Footsteps sounded, coming from in front of him and he opened his eyes to look, though he did not spend the energy to lift his head up until he saw who it was. “Good morning Captain Hanier Sir.” Willim spoke the words while getting to his feet. “I thought you were one of the men bringing me food. They bring it out to me sometimes rather than leaving it on the stump.”

“They are in awe of you right now Willim. You have become the talk of the recruits and some want to get a look at you I suppose.”

“I suppose that would be it.” Willim replied in a sad tone. Five days of manipulating fire had not quenched his disappointment at becoming an elemental.

“So lets see how you have been doing son. I have seen the flames from a distance and some have been impressive, but now I would like to see what kind of control you have with it?” Pointing to a clump of trees, Hanier continued. “The tall one there, with the long branch hanging at an awkward angle. Can you burn it at the base of the branch and extinguish the flame before it hits the ground?”

Raising his right hand towards the tree, he still did not know why he did that but it made it easier to control the flames when he used his hands, Willim let a flow of fire consume the branch just at the base. As the branch broke loose he drew the fire out of it again and the branch hit the ground as cool as it was before he had begun. “What else would you like to see sir?”

For over two hours the captain gave him tasks and he completed them with more ease than even he would have expected. Still two hours had gone by and the captain showed no sign of finishing. Burn a four-foot circle on the ground. Drop a shower of fire over that circle. Throw a ball of flame as high into the air as he could. Once, as he was doing a task, the captain pulled out his pipe and Willim lit it for him before being asked. Still Hanier continued to ask for more until Willim’s anger finally got the best of him.

Throw ten fireballs one after another as fast as he can? William spoke up then with sarcasm in his tone. “Ten Captain? Ten would be too simple and too hard for you to see as well. How about fifty?” Raising his right hand, Willim never made any throwing motion, but one after another a ball of fire a foot in diameter shot from his palm so quick, the only way to be sure the captain could see they were balls was to move his hand from side to side to separate them. Raising his left hand in a different direction Willim continued to throw the spheres of fire. “Or how about more?” Suddenly as many fiery spheres began to shoot from his left hand as well. “Why burn only one tree captain? Why not burn the whole blasted patch of them?” Suddenly each tree in the small woods bursted into flame each tree burning separately and all the while he continued to shoot balls of flame from his palms. “Oh I know! If you like rings of fire, lets have real rings of fire.” A ring a flame that encircled them sprung up among the glowing displays of flames. Then another larger one and then another and another until Willim suddenly heard the captain shouting at him to stop.

The chaos of flames disappeared so quickly the captain had to blink to gather his senses, his eyes still adjusted to the brightness of the fires. “It seams you have adequate control of your gift Willim, but I would suggest you gain control of that temper of yours. I will not allow this kind of behavior and disregard of authority do you understand me?”

Willim had lost his temper and more so than ever before that he could remember. “I, I’m sorry captain. I don’t know what came over me.” There just was nothing else to say more than a quick apology.

Looking Willim in the eyes, the Captain finally nodded. “Get to your barracks son and get a bath. You smell like a burning barn.”

Watching the captain walk away, Willim wondered why he had not been called down harder for his display. Maybe Tremores was right. Maybe they would practically treat him like royalty now that he had become an elemental. He could see the good in it, but at the same time he did not like the idea of it. He had no desire to be any different than anyone else.

The walk to his barracks was as long of a walk as Willim had ever known. The distance was quite short but every step of the way the other soldiers and recruits all stared at him, whispering too low for his ears while watching him pass. By the time he turned down the row of buildings where his bed was, he wanted to run the rest of the way, but he would not let himself. He would not run from them. Closing the door behind him he let out a long sigh of relief before stripping his shirt off and rinsing some sweat from his body. The captain was right, he did smell, and he did want to get to the bathhouse. But it still felt good just to rinse some of it off right then. Dipping his head he splashed water onto his face then grabbed a towel to dry off when the door opened.

“So you are the new elemental are you?” The voice was not familiar and Willim took his time drying his face before he answered. The speaker did not give him the chance though. “I hear you are quite strong too. Fire is it? Good! I believe fire can be the most useful in warfare.”

Willim finally took the towel away from his face and turned to look at the intruder. He was not someone he had ever seen before. This stranger was taller than Willim himself and held an air of authority like none he had ever seen and though he was older and thin, he had wide strong shoulders. The man’s black and silver hair was well groomed and his clothes were extremely finely cut. The sword at his side was no ordinary soldiers sword but fancy like something a Lord would wear; its sheath was black and had gold writing in a different language. “May I ask who you are sir?”

“Of course you do not know me, but you do know of me I am sure. My name is Malok and I am your Emperor.”

The shock of it all sent Willim’s head into a spin. He would never have expected the Emperor himself to come to his barracks. Taking a couple of steps back, Willim let his mouth drop open before slamming it shut with a loud click of his teeth. He knew there was something he should do right then but he could not think straight. What is Malok doing here?

A savage look that appeared in Malok’s eyes was the only warning Willim got before he was swept across the room and slammed hard against the far wall. Rather than falling to the floor though, Willim stood straight up against the wall, his feet a few inches above the ground. Malok had him pinned with air. “When you come face to face with your Ruler boy, you are supposed to bow.” As soon as the words were spoken the air around Willim shifted, forcing him to bend over into a deep bow.

As quick as the air grabbed him, it disappeared and Willim felt free to move again, the jolt of his feet hitting the floor causing his teeth to click hard together. Instead of staying in the bent position, Willim stood up straight again, meeting the Emperors eyes stare for stare. “I have never bowed for anyone but a lady before a dance sir. I will not start now. Not even for the emperor! Especially after being treated in such a manner!” Willim did not know exactly why he decided to stand up to Malok. There was just something about him that didn’t set right and to bow to him felt wrong, still a small voice echoed in Willim’s head that he was a fool for doing so. That voice may as well have screamed in his head for all he paid attention to it.

Lieutenant Cleese was suddenly beside Malok, a worried look in his eyes. “Please don’t kill him your highest. He is very valuable and more so now with the latest news I have received.”

Before Willim could brace himself, he felt the air grab him again and he was lifted up and thrown through the window into the street. Head over heels he tumbled before he came to a stop face down, spitting sand and dirt out of his mouth. More than one person was now watching though they all knew Malok had gone inside and stood out of the way as they watched. Malok and Cleese came out through the door and he could hear the Lieutenant saying something about two of the other elementals but the man’s words were lost in Willim’s fury as the blood rushing through him drowned out most of the sound. “I will bow to no one!” The words were shouted as he flung his hands forward throwing a large ball of fire three feet across at Malok.

Cleese dove for cover when he saw the fiery sphere coming but Malok stood his ground and calmly waved a hand in front of him. As he did so, the flames dissipated in front of him. “Is that all you have boy? Did they not explain to you that every element has its counter element? Your flames are useless against me for they need air to breath. Water will turn earth to mud, Air has no effect against earth, fire will evaporate the water. Simply put boy, I own you!”

Once again Willim could feel the air around him change but rather than turn solid to throw him again, it thinned out then disappeared. Opening his mouth wide he tried desperately to draw in a breath and could not. His eyes began to water as he began to franticly throw fire at the Emperor but his flame would go out as soon as it left his hand. Pain slowly formed in his chest then quickly spread out over the rest of him; he could feel himself squirming around on the ground but could not seem to stop it. Air, he thought, I need air. Oh my God I’m going to die like this! “Don’t kill him sire. Please don’t kill…” The lieutenant’s words faded away with his consciousness as darkness drew him in.

Continue to .... Maroz 11 - Water and Earth

Maroz 9 - Florencia

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 21:39:00 +0000

Keen Vass stood on his terrace looking to the east. The setting sun painted a golden red glow over the evening sky, broken only by the horizontal streaks of clouds. “Have you had word from Tomas yet Caralla?”

Thinking about Tomas made Keen feel much older than the sixty-three years he truly was. Tomas would be twenty-two the day after tomorrow and had been a new recruit when Keen had taken the throne. At the young age of only fourteen, Tomas showed the first signs of being able to manipulate water and though it was highly irregular, the previous ruler had allowed him to join his army. That recruit had become his most trust worthy officer and had left on an expedition over three months earlier and had been expected back weeks ago. Word had reached Keen that something evil was happening in the far eastern coast of Maroz but Malok showed no interest in finding out what it was. Still some of the rumors had been disturbing and Keen had decided it would be best to know what was happening.

“Husband, you know well that I would let you know the moment I hear anything. Tomas knows what he is about. He will be fine. Besides, you ordered him to investigate but to not take any chances that even might put him in danger. He will not go against your orders.”

Keen turned around to consider his wife. Shorter than most women, Caralla was still a handsome woman even into her years. Her dark red hair cut above her shoulders and her green gown only added to her air of royalty. Without her, he would have failed as a king a long time ago, but she pressed him to keep a level head and to consider his options. A wiser woman he had never met and if he should ever die, she would be an excellent Ruler in his stead. “You are right my dearest. I am sorry. I did mean nothing by asking. I only worry about him is all! Tomas along with what evil might be out there. I have a bad feeling about it.”

Walking to stand in front of her husband, Caralla had to tilt her head up to look him in the eyes. His black hair was thinning and was being replaced with as much gray as black. His beard was neatly trimmed and now had far more gray than black. “Tomas will be fine Keen. He is an elemental remember and possibly the strongest ever to manipulate water. I myself have seen him draw water from a rock.”

Sliding an arm around her waist he turned to stare to the east once again. “Do you think the rumors could be true?”

“That an evil arises from Mt. Caldor? I suppose they could be true and likely they are, but what is more important is what kind of evil? Is it an army gathering, or some strange creature? Something darker?” Snuggling tighter to his side she considered it all. She always felt safer when he held her closer. “Some rumors have it that this evil will not stop until it consumes the world. God willing it isn’t so awful as that.”

“What of my decision to send Nikoli with Tomas? I cannot help but to wonder if I have spread us thin.”

Caralla chuckled slightly, a low and deep chuckle for a woman. “Keen, you have asked that question every day since you made the decision. I agreed with it the first day and I agree with it now. Malok shows no sign of wanting to attack us and has not in years. We have been on friendly terms with Aries for twenty years now as well. It was more important to give Tomas the best men we have, to give him the best chance possible of a successful mission. Nikoli is not as strong with air as Tomas is with water but he is still strong nonetheless and two elementals together have a much better chance of coming back to us. We do not truly need an elemental here in Florencia at the moment anyway.”

When a knock sounded at their doors, the two separated and waited for the guard to enter after the allotted time. “Tomas is asking for your presence Sire.”

Finally! Though Caralla was still in her day clothing, Keen was in his robe and slippers and he did not want to bother getting dressed to go down to the sitting room. “Send him in if you would please.”

The guard made a formal bow, his head almost touching the floor. “I would please Sire.”

The wait was not long before the door opened again admitting Tomas, the dust from the long travel still on his coat. Short and wiry thin, Tomas was the image of quickness, his slightly darker skin hinting at some foreign blood but the man insisted that he was born and had grown in Florencia. His father had raised him and he had little memory of his mother. “Tomas, please have a seat. You must be exhausted from your journey.” Waiting only long enough for Tomas to get a glass of wine and have a seat, Keen began to urge his captain to tell what he had learned.

“It is not good Keen.” Keen and Caralla had long since done away with the formalities with Tomas when alone with him. “There is a, a darkness growing from Mt. Caldor that is quite unnerving. Men have gone in to investigate and in a couple of cases had gone in larger numbers with weapons. None have ever been seen again. Nikoli and I went to have a look and…” Seeing the look on the Kings face, Tomas quickly amended. “We did not go into the darkness, only up to it. The sun was bright that day with not a cloud in the sky, yet one hundred paces ahead of us the ground looked as if it was under a large shadow. We studied it for a full day and I was about to head back when Nikoli noticed the shadow had grown. I had been focusing on looking for movement within the shadow and had not paid enough attention to the shadow itself. He was right of course. The shadow had moved. So for three days we watched it and every day it continued to move steadily, just enough that you could see it move if you watched it.”

Lifting the glass to take another drink, Tomas was surprised to find it empty. Standing up he strolled to the table where the cooled pitcher stood and poured another glass before continuing. “We asked around and there are some who say that it grows when it takes a life. One man said he left his village with his wife and child before it reached it and practically had to outrun the shadow as it swallowed his village. He swore that once the shadow swallowed the village, it began to grow fast enough to almost catch him and his wagon and he whipped his team of horses for three miles before it slowed down again, if he speaks the truth. I do believe he exaggerates though, I do think that kind of strain on his horses would have killed them. There is also another story of an old man who had left his village when the darkness began. He claims that Death himself with his minions was behind it all. Personally that sounds like foolish talk to me. Even more so than the former.”

Keen sat down in a chair beside Tomas considering the news. “If this darkness is not stopped, it might swallow the world. How much will it grow if it reaches a city?”

Draining his second glass, Tomas thought about a third then decided to set the glass down. All the wine in the palace would not quench his thirst right then and it would not help any if he became drunk. “Yet how do we fight it when nobody seems to return once they go inside?”

Keen tilted his head back and rested it against the back of the chair. “We don’t yet. At this time it is more of a threat to Maroz than it is to us. We cannot risk a war with Maroz by sending more men into this darkness unless we are sure we ourselves are in danger. For now I am afraid we will have to wait and see where this takes us.” As the silence between them extended, Keen could not help but to wonder what would happen if they waited too long. Yet he dared not do more than wait for now.

Continue to .... Maroz 10 - A Match With Malok

Maroz 8 - The Warning

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 17:58:00 +0000

The city of Crook was not as large as most, yet people usually crowded through its streets. Today was different for word had spread of the old man who had seen his village swallowed by darkness and what waits in that darkness. The story was almost too much to believe. Death himself has come in the flesh? Demons from Hell literally tearing humans apart! The sky being as dark as night at noonday! It was too much! The only reason anyone gave the stories any credit at all was that they had been hearing rumors of darkness, to the east for weeks now. Still, there were those who did believe and were either busy packing or already traveling west, leaving the city just a little less crowded. Marinek Shamil had it in his mind to find out exactly which of these rumors were true though.

Standing seven inches more than six feet he was a very large and powerful man and most seemed to turn to him for direction just simply for that reason. Marinek was not as bright as most but his size had given him an air of confidence that most men ignorantly took as a sign of intelligence.

“I aim to take as many men who will go with me into this so called shadow!” He shouted from the steps of a large pub, a mug of whine still in his hand. His hair had long since receded so Marinek had gotten into the habit of shaving his head bald. “We will find out what is truth and what is lies. We will find out what this darkness is all about!” A large crowd of near a hundred people stood listening to him and more than a couple cheering him on. “If this Death character is really there, we will show him what real men, healthy men, can do! We will drive him and his so called demons back to where he belongs. We will run him right back into the sea of death!”

The crowd grew and grew as he spoke and for the most part the men shouted agreement. There was one who did not cheer though. Standing near the back of the crowd was the old man who had started the stories. “You’d be a fool to go in there, mister.” Jeck Henley spoke loud enough to be heard and every head turned toward him. “And every one of you who follow him will be fools right to the moment you die!”

“You must be the crazy old goat who came rushing into Crook, scaring our women and children with your stories huh?” A few of the men chuckled at the confidence in Marinek.

Jeck did not flinch at the words. “Old goat I am mister. Old fool I am not! Those were not stories! They were warnings. I saw Death himself and I have never known fear until I looked into his eyes, well, where his eyes should have been. Nothing but empty sockets was there! Thousands of winged demons killed my neighbors and a few chased me to the edge of the shadow. Almost got me too!” Jeck could hear a few snickers around him and though he knew it would do no good, he turned on the crowd. “Go ahead and laugh if you want to, but if you go into that shadow you won’t be laughing then. I warned my friends something was wrong and they wouldn’t listen and now I am giving you one chance as well. Me? I’m leaving here before that shadow has a chance to get here, and if you were smart you would follow me out!”

Marinek stood in silence and watched with a smirk as the old man made his way through the crowd. Once he was gone Marinek raised his voice again. “As I was saying, I plan on taking healthy men, not old men. If something is in there we will do away with it. What creature will fight fifty armed men? Or a hundred armed men! Most of you know me and you know I can fight. Be it with weapon or bare hands I will beat most men.” Pointing to a hard looking man with reddish blond hair hanging below the shoulders with a bulbous nose and wide shoulders, Marinek continued. “Jonah, you are a good man with an axe and the two of us alone would make a powerful duo. Can I count you in with me?”

Jonah only thought for a second before taking in a deep breath and straightening his back. “I be in with you Marinek! We’ll clobber anything we face!”

Most men respected Jonah with his axe and with his statement of going more men began to shout they would go as well. As more men clamored that they would go, others who were doubtful began to join. Soon Marinek stood in front of a group of one hundred and twenty men, all clapping each other on the shoulders and talking loudly how they would defeat Hell itself.

Less than two hours later the large group of self made warriors rode out of Crook holding every kind of weapon imaginable. For the most part they wore swords at their waists but many had long bows and short bows, Halberds and spears, staffs and axes. A few of them had even driven spikes through clubs because they were too poor to own a decent weapon. Out the gates they rode and crossed the barren plains that surrounded Crook for the first three miles before reaching trees. Once exiting the other end of the trees though, every man came to a stop and stared at the darkness to the east. Night was not yet setting on the land but an unnatural shadow crept towards them just fast enough for the naked eye to see it moving. A few of the men began to mutter to them selves that maybe the old man was right but Jonah heard the whispered fears and spoke up trying to give encouragement. Once an army was beaten mentally, the physical battle was already over and he would not allow that to happen. “Aye the old man might have spoke some truth but no doubt he be exaggerating. I no be old and decrepit, least no the last time I looked in a mirror. Marinek may be getting there but no me!” The men began to chuckle at his slight towards Marinek and the fear that thickened the air moments before seemed to thin out and dissipate. “Me thinks I’d like to see what’s really in there. In fact, maybe if I see this Death fellow, I be asking him to drink with me before I cut his wee head off.” Without waiting for any agreement Jonah carelessly put his horse into a walk, knowing all too well his casualness would bring the others behind him. The sounds of the other horses’ hooves clopping against the hard ground told him he was right.

Inside of a three hundred paces the small army went from a shining sun to a moonless night; the only light coming from the daylight behind them. Torches came out and were quickly lit before they ventured any further. Together the men grouped tightly as if afraid of the darkness surrounding them; the torches casting a ghostly reddish tint to everything it reached. Marinek was considering how calm and peaceful it was, after all if demons were killing everything alive, how peaceful could it be, when one of the men whispered and pointed. Fifty paces ahead of them a small; almost man like creature with ribbed wings was engrossed with tearing the flesh off of a squirrel. A younger man who Marinek did not recognize lifted his bow and loosed an arrow at the same time the creature looked up and saw them. The arrow took the small demon hard in the chest and carried it a few feet back before it stopped dead.

“Let’s go see that thing up close.” Marinek said as he gave his horse a nudge forward.

The young man who shot the arrow galloped ahead and climbed down to pick it up. Holding it up by the shaft of the arrow he smiled. “Looks like its got some sharp claws and teeth but other than that it don’t look all so dangerous. I bet they…” His words were cut off as the long tail of the small winged animal fell off and burst into ash before it reached the ground. Before the young man could react, the rest of it slid off of the arrow and fell in a shower of ash as well.

Marinek was only half the distance to the lad when he held up and twisted in his horse looking around. He heard something in the surrounding darkness but what ever it was, it still had not come close enough to touch the penetrating light from their torches. The other men walked their horses right on by him though, either not hearing what Marinek heard or not caring. Suddenly from out of the darkness, nearly thirty of those creatures swarmed over the young bowman and the lad began screaming as he swung his bow and beat his hands at them. The screaming, as horrific sounding as it was, only lasted seconds before they left and his flesh-ridden skeleton collapsed to the ground. Every man in the make shift army stared in shock, their mouths hanging open for a moment before they also began to scream as the winged demons swung towards them. Swords, axes, staffs and clubs were swung in defense, killing the creatures that turned to ash before they ever hit the ground. Within minutes they had lost twelve men and the swarm of creatures still looked as thick as when it first appeared, even thicker as more of the winged beasts came from the darkness.

Marinek had just finished slicing one of the demons in half when he heard another sound. Not the same as the first time but deeper and more guttural sounding. Then from out in the darkness came more demons, only these were not winged and were larger than most men. In all different appearances some had muscular arms and legs while others looked thin and sinewy. Some had badly disfigured faces while others had features that were practically human. More demons emerged from the darkness looking more like the smaller flying ones only these were as large as most women were and much heavier in the muscle. There was not much to their color, usually black, gray or a very dark red, though some had stripes while others were spotted or a solid color. Horse and man alike were being pulled down and shredded by their claws.

One particular demon with a face that looked like it had been pulled out of the fire charged Marinek but when Marinek swung his sword at the beast it picked up one of its smaller counterparts and used it as a shield. The blade stuck half way through the smaller creature and before he could pull it free, the sword was yanked out of his hand so hard it nearly unseated Marinek from the saddle. Grabbing onto the pommel of the saddle, Marinek tried desperately to turn his horse to run when it whinnied in a high pitch and fell, causing Marinek to tumble away from it. Before he could gain his feet, the large man felt an even larger hand wrap around his neck and lift him up. It was the demon with a disfigured face that held him up with one hand.

Marinek tried to scream when the beast raked the claws of its spare hand down his arm tearing the flesh from his bones, but all that came out was a strangled choke. That clawed hand reached up once again to cover his face and Marinek could feel the claws slicing deep into his brow and cheeks.

“Stop!” It was one word and not spoken very loudly but every demon stopped, even the one that held Marinek. As the large hand came away from his face, Marinek felt blood flow freely from the wounds. “I want him alive!”

The large hand released Marinek and he fell hard to the ground. With his one good hand he wiped the blood from his eyes to see who had saved him and immediately wished he had not. A large man on a black horse stood before him wearing a dark cloak that looked like it had been rotting away for some time now. Its hemlines hung in shreds and in some areas there were holes eaten through its material. The cloak moved around on its own accord as if it was a windy day though the leaves in the trees stood completely still. The man’s skin was a pasty white and gave one a sense that he was dead and the empty eye sockets made Marinek believe that maybe the horseman really was. Fear like Marinek had never felt before, swept over him causing him to lose control of his bladder and even forget the pain that throbbed heavily in his shredded arm.

“Who..” His throat was parched from the fear as well and he had to start a second time to get his words out. “Who, are you?”

“I am Zeebulis! I am the Lord of Death! I am Death!” Reaching down, Zeebulis wrapped his long bony fingers around the injured arm of Marinek and squeezed. Marinek’s screams intensified as the heat and pain flowed through his arm and he watched in horror as his arm literally melted off, leaving a withered stump hanging from his shoulder. “You will not bleed to death now and you will live.”

Marinek’s screams died away as the words slowly took on form and he realized he would not be killed. “Why, why me? Why do you let me live? You want me to serve you is that it? I won’t! I would rather die than serve you!” Zeebulis grabbed Marinek again by the neck and lifted him up in the manner the demon had before. His feet dangling a foot off of the ground, Marinek could do nothing but struggle to breathe.

“In some matters you have no choice. If I wanted you to serve me you would serve me! If I killed you now, you would serve me from the grave you worthless worm. I am letting you live, not to serve me, but to go back to your pathetic race. Tell them I come and they cannot run nor hide or fight me. They have but one choice alone. They can die! Your useless weapons of steel cannot hurt me. My minions that you have killed, they only need be brought back from the pits of Hell. You cannot kill the dead!” Dropping Marinek to the ground he waited for the man to catch his breath before continuing. “Go now before I change my mind. Go now and warn them if you wish, but go now before I decide I would rather melt the rest of your limbs off just to watch you squirm around.”

Marinek scrambled to his feet and began running. Small winged demons flying past him raked their claws across his shoulders, back and face, laughing at his clumsiness as he fell over and scrambled back to his feet. Out of the dark shadow and all of the way to the city he ran before collapsing at the gates where guards who recognized him carried him into the city for medical help.

The large demon with the scar-covered face held its fists clenched tightly as it spoke. “Why Master? Why let him live? It would have been more entertaining to kill him slowly.”

“Because, his survival serves me Lozimum! If none of them return they will only send a larger army next time and that serves nothing but to entertain you. With my warnings and man’s talent for exaggerating, maybe they will try sending elementals to fight me. Now that would serve a real purpose.” Zeebulis stared off in the direction that the human had run, his charcoal gray cloak waving behind him as a warning to others that he was not in the best of moods. He never was! “This body grows weak Lozimum. I need more elementals.”

Continue to .... Maroz 9 - Florencia

Maroz 7 - The Lord of Death

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 17:31:00 +0000

As the people of the village fled for their lives, a few ran toward him, begging for mercy he supposed, but he paid them no attention. Humans meant nothing to Zeebulis, the Lord of Death. He had one mission, one desire, and that was to destroy anything living. Once a very long time ago, he had the chance to experience life, but God had denied him of that. Now he hated anything that lived. The Lord of light had taken all from him and had given him what he despised and he would do the same to all that the Lord of light cared about.

“The process is slow master!”

Zeebulis showed no signs of hearing Corruption, his first in command. Standing over seven feet tall, Corruption was a mass of muscle that would enforce Death’s will. People ran from his fiery red eyes and yellow fangs as much as his size. After a long silence, Zeebulis smiled and turned to consider Corruption who waited patiently for a reply. “The process will be slow until we find them Corruption. As I consume them I will become stronger here and the pace will pick up.”

“There seem to be so few of them master, and even the one we…” Corruption went silent not wanting to bring up the one who they did find. An old man who had escaped them was the only human they had found who could control the elements and he was very week. Still it was not wise to remind Zeebulis of the one who got away. His fury over that had been like Corruption had never seen before. The minions who had chased the old elemental had been destroyed. Not sent back to the pits of Hell where they had come from, but had been destroyed as if they had never been. “We will find them master and they will be stronger than, well they will be strong. We have barely gotten started after all.”

Zeebulis’s upper lip lifted into a snarl at the thought of the old elemental getting away. “We will find them soon Corruption! We had better!” Without having to tell the black horse to do so, it moved away from Corruption. Zeebulis never had to direct the horse; it always did as its master wanted.

Zeebulis rode through the village while his army of demons was still torturing their victims, his dark cloak flaring out around him as if a wind had kicked up. There was no wind. The rotting cloak was not affected by anything other than his mood and right now he was irritated causing the cloak to flail about. When he had first learned of the old elemental getting away, his cloak looked as if a strong storm had come upon them, its harsh winds throwing it in every different direction. Those who saw him now shied away in fear they might give him reason to become even angrier.

Once out of the village, Zeebulis rode out towards the edge of darkness and stared out at the lighted world. The fools! How could they let him get away? Far out in the distance his eyes fell on a wide stand of trees. It was after those trees when they would find the city of Crook. With so many people crowded together it was only simple logic there would be an elemental or two if not more. That many people alone would build his strength, if only slightly, but the elementals would be like feasting. Crook was not a large city but still it was a city and was bound to have an elemental.

His mood soothed to a point and he rode back through the village with his cloak hanging limp once again. A woman lay screaming with her arms stretched wide, pleading to him for mercy as his demons stripped her of her skin, but he paid her no mind. If anything the sight only soothed him a bit more. He found a sort of solace in the agony of the living. Sometimes he even enjoyed killing them himself rather than letting his pets have them.

The air next to Zeebulis seemed to change, everything beyond it becoming blurry and he sat his horse waiting. After only a moment’s wait, Lozimum stepped through the air to kneel before him. Stepping through the air was how his higher demons would travel though they usually did so in this manner only if it was of utmost importance. Nodding his head to Lozimum he waited for him to speak.

“Master! We have found one.” Lozimum’s voice was harsh and deep and befitting his stature. His thick arms and legs clashed with his thin bony like body and his face looked as if it had been set on fire as a daily occurrence. “It is just a boy child master but he has the power in him. He had been hiding in a cellar.”

Following Lozimum to a small farmhouse there were two more demons holding the boy as he struggled and screamed. A touch of a smile seemed to quirk across Zeebulis’s pasty white lips as he looked at the boy. He would enjoy this immensely; there was something about the innocence of youth that Zeebulis loved to destroy. Though the boy was small, the spark of the ability of an elemental was strong with in him. He would likely have grown into a very strong elemental if he had not been found.

Placing a hand to each side of the child’s head, Zeebulis lifted the boy from the demons grips. His legs kicked around wildly as he grabbed at Zeebulis’s wrists but the Lord of Death ignored it. Then as the boys face came within inches from Zeebulis’s, his arms and legs went limp as fear rippled through his inner being and his bladder let loose. Opening his mouth, Zeebulis began to inhale deeply, breathing in the boy’s soul and his strength in the elements. For a long minute Zeebulis drank in the spirit before finally letting go. The boy’s soulless body collapsed to the ground like a bag of wet sand and took another two breaths before going completely still, as if the body had tried to live on without its soul.

Continue to .... Maroz 8 - The Warning

Maroz 6 - New Found Powers

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 17:07:00 +0000

Thunder seemed to shake the ground as Willim’s feet splashed through puddles. The rain that had poured for three days straight had him drenched from head to toe but he paid it no mind. All of his focus was on the man in front of him. Rohan Cleese was a master with the sword and he was not taking it easy with Willim in his lessons this day. Twice the man had nearly run him through with the wooden staves that made up the practice sword and likely would have if Willim had not twisted aside as he tried parrying his teacher’s blade. More than a few bruises had marked his ribs and back from when he had been too slow. When another crack sounded as the wooden blade found its mark again, Willim’s anger took hold of him and he charged Cleese, only to find himself suddenly on his back in the mud, his teacher’s sword pressed against his throat.

“You let your anger get the best of you. All that will come from letting your anger loose will be your death. Don’t let it run loose like a rabid dog lad, learn to focus it. Wild anger will get you killed but a focused anger can become a weapon. A focused anger will give you strength you never knew you had.” Pulling the practice sword away from Willim’s throat, Cleese stepped back. “Now go get cleaned up. I have more important matters to attend to than to teach you all day.

As the Lieutenant walked away, Willim climbed to his feet but did not move to get cleaned up. Most every hour for the recruits were spent in training and each recruit was given an extra hour a day to train in what he wanted to learn the most. Every day Willim came to the swords to practice and quite often would practice the forms even after Cleese had gone. Today would be no different.

Picking up his wooden practice sword, Willim took a long breath and slowly let it out to clear his head. Bringing the blade up, he thrust it out and brought it back again, dropping the point towards the ground. One form led into another and before he knew it he had lost himself to the practice. He was only working the forms a short time when a rough voice sounded from behind him. “I have been in need of some practice boy. Let’s see how you do with real steel.”

Willim recognized the voice immediately and turned to face Madolin Gills. The man still had not forgotten how Willim had bumped into him and wanted revenge for looking bad when the elemental tied him up. “I told you I was sorry Gills. Why do you press me so?”

“Because I don’t like you boy! Do I need a better reason?”

Before Willim could reply, Gills advanced with a real sword in his hands. As he was wondering how he would ever defend himself with a wooden practice sword, someone shouted his name. Turning his eyes to look, he was just in time to see another young recruit throwing a sword in his direction. The sword landed a few feet behind him, the blade sticking into the ground. Willim grabbed the hilt as Gills charged and it was all Willim could do to fend him off. ‘Flight of the Dragon fly’ turned into ‘Strike of the Adder’ and after ‘Whispering Death’, Gills went right into ‘Windmill in a Storm’. Stepping back, Willim looked down at a small slice in his left forearm. Only a slight scratch, but it could have been much worse. ‘Dragon’s Tail was defended by the ‘Whirling Windmill. Over and over again they came together only to separate with Willim bleeding somewhere new. Gills had been playing with him and Willim knew it, his forms just slow enough for Willim to defend while taking a small cut to a shoulder or a short slice to a thigh. Suddenly Gills eyes seemed to light up with anticipation. He would go for the kill now.

Gills’ sword seemed to come from every direction at once and some how Willim countered each move his actions almost without thought, then suddenly Gills sword twisted and flicked, pulling the blade out of Willim’s hand and sent it spinning through the air. Willim tried backing up hurriedly and losing his balance he stumbled backwards and fell to his back. Gills stood above him with a wicked smile. “Give my best to the writhe for me when he takes your soul boy!”

Lying on his back helpless while seeing Gills turn the point of his sword towards him and drawing it back, Willim knew the man was going to run him through. A small hint of surprise made its way through Willim’s feelings as he realized he was not afraid but angry. He did nothing to deserve this and he had been nothing but respectful to this man. He had been walking with a tinge of fear in the corner of his mind for weeks, always keeping an eye out for Gills and now the man would kill him for something as simple as accidentally bumping into him. I don’t deserve this!

“What was that boy? Speak quickly before I kill you!”

“I said I don’t deserve this!” Willim shouted the words as loud as he could and rebelliously threw every ounce of anger into them and at Gills. “I did nothing to you! I don’t deserve this!”

There were more recruits watching than Willim had thought and most of them began to gasp at the same time Gills began to scream. Dropping his sword, the man grabbed at his head, his eyes wide with pain as flames spurted out of his mouth and nostrils then from his eyes. Within seconds Gills whole head was engulfed in fire that grabbed at his clothing and strove to cover the rest of his body. Willim kicked and pushed as he scooted away from Gills as fast as he could and watched as the man fell to his knees then onto his face. The screaming ended moments before the thrashing legs stopped moving and all Willim could do was to stare in shock as the flames chewed away Gills flesh.

The others around them began muttering and telling each other what they just saw as if the one they were telling had not just seen the same thing. Willim tried to ignore them as he stared at the now charred remains of Gills but one word kept grabbing at his attention. “Elemental!”

Trying hard to convince himself they were talking about someone else Willim shook his head, but he knew. He knew all too well the fire had come from him. He did not want to be an elemental though. All he wanted to do was get through his term as a soldier and head home. Once someone was known to be an elemental they were forced to stay in the army or be hunted down. Rumor had it that Tremores had been in the army for twelve years now. Twelve years! Again the word ‘elemental’ caught his ears and Willim jumped to his feet, rounding on the crowd around him.

“Stop saying that! I’m not an elemental do you hear me? I don’t want to be!”

Every last one of them snapped their mouths shut in fear of drawing his anger. Especially the veterans who understood more than the recruits that a young elemental could lash out with his newfound power, out of anger before he realized what he was doing, as Willim had just done to Gills. More than a few of them stepped back, wetting their lips in fear.

“Son, I think the first thing you need to do is relax.” Willim recognized the voice and turned to face Tremores himself, but the veteran elemental continued on in a soothing and calming voice. “I know I wouldn’t want you to do anything that might hurt anyone on accident and I am pretty sure you wouldn’t want to either. But if you do have the ability to control fire as it would seem that you do, well anger is one emotion you want to stay away from. Believe me!”

“I don’t want to be an elemental Tremores. I just want to live an ordinary life when my term is up.”

Tremores nodded understandably while wrinkling his nose. “Let’s take a walk lad. We can talk somewhere more private and I would prefer to get away from this stench. Gills smelled bad enough when he was alive, but this is more than I can handle.”

The two men turned to walk and stopped as Captain Hanier and another fellow came walking up to them. The other man was someone Willim had never seen before. His thick long mustache seemed too large on his bony thin face, yet the man carried an air of authority that even over shadowed the captains. Tremores spoke in a hush voice that only Willim could hear. “Laine Askew, Malok’s personal advisor when it comes to military matters, though Malok never consults him. Just let me do the speaking.”

As the two men reached them, Laine spoke up first. “I hear there has been an incident Tremores.” The man’s deep voice was shocking in comparison to his thin features. “A new elemental it would seem.” Of course the man already knew. Malok had spies everywhere in the city, especially here in their campgrounds. Someone must have gone running as soon as it started for Laine to be here so quickly with the captain.

“Yes sir.” Tremores answered. “He had no idea he had the ability until Gills tried to kill him.”

Laine turned his attention to Willim, his hard eyes firing arrows at the younger man. “I suppose this is him? What’s your name boy?”

Willim stared for a second before realizing he had to answer. Dropping his eyes to the ground he spoke almost too quiet to be heard. “Willim sir, Willim Pillar.”

“Speak up boy. I am not in the habit of straining to hear what soldiers say to me.”

A small spark of anger rose up in Willim. Though he knew it was the last thing to do he wanted to shout his name in the man’s face. Lifting his eyes to meat Laine’s, Tremores saved him from his own desires when he spoke first. “Forgive him sir. It is quite the shock the first time one manipulates an element. He is still shook up over it.”

Silence seemed to stretch before Laine finally answered. “Very well Tremores. Help him as much as you can. We can always use another elemental around here.” Before he was even finished speaking, Laine began to walk away with the captain at his side.

“Don’t you worry too much about Laine, Willim, the man can be insolent as hell but he won’t cause much of a problem for you knowing you can twist an element. You are too valuable now.”
“Can I stop it?” The surprised look on Tremores’ face urged Willim to explain. “I don’t want the power or the fame Tremores. I want to stay normal. Can I be cured from this?”

A hard chuckle escaped the older elemental’s mouth before he could stop it, then considering it a second he let his laugh out freely as he reached up and around Willim to grab the tall younger man’s shoulder. “You are not sick lad. It is nothing to be cured. Can a woman be cured of womanhood? No, she is just a different kind of human than man is. You are not sick, just different.” The glum look on Willim’s face spoke volumes and Tremores knew he had to cheer him up. “Many creatures, including humans go through changes in their lives that they do not like. Yet they don’t spend the rest of their life unhappy do they? You will get use to it Willim, the day will come when you don’t think twice about it anymore, you’ll see. Don’t fight it, just accept it and you will be much better off.”

As they walked past a cook fire, Tremores reached down and grabbed the end of a small twig. A flame still licked at the other end. “Let me show you something lad. Hold out your hand.”

Holding out his hand, Tremores put the flame under Willim’s hand. As soon as the flame touched his skin, Willim jerked his hand away with a curse and glared at Tremores as he moved back a step. “What in the blazes was that for?”

A mischievous look fell over Tremores as he smiled and answered. “That was a simple but very important lesson lad. However well you think you can manipulate, twist or control fire, it can still burn you if you do not have control over it. You would be surprised at how many elementals have died because they thought they were safe from their own powers. Now for your second and final lesson, follow me.”

At the edge of camp, the two men stopped, staring out at a barren field. Nearly a mile across, there were relatively few clumps of trees with a few small ponds and here and there a patch of charred ground where nothing had begun to grow back and likely would not for years to come. Curiosity got the best of Willim as they stared at the field and he asked Tremores the obvious question.

“It is the learning grounds Willim and your home for the next week. Every time a new elemental discovers his powers, he is a threat to all those around him until he can learn to control it. Even another elemental that has the same ability cannot do more than show him what he can do. He cannot on the other hand show him how to do it. Manipulating the elements is more like breathing than riding a horse. It’s not something to be taught, you just do it.”

“What about food and fresh water?” Willim asked.

“Every day you will be brought food and water. Men will leave it on that stump out there.”

Looking at the dejected young man, Tremores felt a pain for him. “Look Willim, I know it sounds bad, but it’s not really. Just spend your time trying to master your abilities. Soon you will be back in camp and others will look to you as a king in some ways. And trust me; you won’t have anymore like Gills bothering you either.”

Willim stared out at the field and sighed heavily. He did not want to be treated as a king and he did not think he would ever just accept his abilities. “Some how I think I would have been better off to let Gills kill me.” Tremores opened his mouth to reply but Willim didn’t give him the chance before he started off without looking back.

Continue to .... Maroz 7 - The Lord of Death

Maroz 5 - A Writhe Attacks

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 06:08:00 +0000

Keln Schovass knelt near the ridge, looking through a dried bush for cover at the soldiers moving below. Hearing someone lightly clear his throat, he turned and gave the men behind him a hard stare. His group had grown but he trusted each one of them and they were all good men with weapons. Whoever had cleared his throat did not do it loud enough to be heard from any distance but Keln would not allow it any chance of getting worse in the future. The two best friends he had ever had stood at the front of the group awaiting their orders. Dawan Margon stood a hefty six feet three inches with light brown hair. He had saved Keln’s life far more than a few times. Next to him stood Stepp Puntera who Keln had known nearly as long as Dawan. Keln had spent many nights just telling jokes with Step or listening to the man play his Lute, which he kept in a steel case to keep it safe during battles. The weird thing was that Keln’s two friends did not know each other very well. There was no animosity between them that Keln could see, but neither did they show any interest in getting to know each other.

Just beneath Dawan and Stepp in rank were Keln’s five brothers. ‘Ress’ with his short fuse of a temper, ‘Wenn’ who had the best mind for trickery that Keln had ever known, ‘Jemmel’ who was as stubborn as a bull but loyal as he was stubborn, ‘Jahsen’ who had an inane ability for planning battle and was an excellent swordsman, and ‘Erek’ whose luck seemed to never leave him and always had a smart remark to make others laugh. The only reason they were below Dawan and Stepp in rank was because there were too many of them and too many captains would destroy any army, especially an army as small as this one. So Keln had put his two friends as captains and his brothers as what he referred to as under-captains. Each of his brothers had a hundred men that he had charge of during any attack.

Looking back to the soldiers passing below, Keln studied them as they passed. They were well trained and every man of them kept alert and watched in every direction. Jahsen had wanted to attack them, for every blow to Malok was a victory in his eyes but there were too many. Near two hundred men rode slowly past down there and Keln’s five hundred could take them he was sure of that, and he did not believe they would take a heavy toll in doing so. Of course there was the little fact that he and each of his brothers along with Dawan and Stepp were elementals and each of them was strong enough with even the one element they could control. Both, their father and mother were elementals and their mother had controlled two elements, fire and air. Malok had decided that it would be too dangerous to allow any elementals who could control more than one element to stay alive and had sent his army to kill their mother when they were little. Both of their parents had died fighting side by side while an uncle rode away with the children in a wagon. They had the soldiers outnumbered and he had every reason to want to deal another blow to Malok, still, for some reason, Keln had a strong feeling he should not attack this group.

Watching the last of the soldiers disappear around a bend, Keln wondered if Jahsen had the right of it. The end of Malok was all they lived for anymore. Through his thirty-nine years of life, Keln could not ever remember wanting anything else and he prayed every morning that God would keep him and his brothers alive to see the day the man died. It grated deeply with him that he should let any of Malok’s army merely wander by unscathed. Still that feeling nagged at him, warning him not to attack. He did not know why but he knew that if he attacked this group, they might not come out so good this time.

Looking back over his shoulder, Keln whispered just loud enough to be heard by his own men. “Stepp, send Helson to trail them to make sure none of them turn back.” Helson was a short wiry man in his mid forties who had spent his life living off the land. The man could track a fish through water if it was asked of him and there had been times the man had pulled a few miracles out of his sleeves that had saved their lives.

Sitting himself down, Keln stretched his legs as Dawan came and sat next to him. The bigger man was a born leader. Men just naturally seemed willing to look to him for direction and he seemed to naturally give it. Still, for some reason Keln did not understand, Dawan took Keln as the leader and had been ready to defend him as the leader to those who wanted others. “It wasn’t easy letting them go Dawan. I’d kill every last one of those Goat Eaters if I didn’t have such a bad feeling about it. I don’t know man, maybe Jahsen was right and we should’ve taken this patrol out. Maybe I am just getting tired and old and soft to boot.”

Dawan sat quietly for a moment taking it all in before answering. “Keln, I have seen you soft and I have seen you hard as that sword you carry. Living like this can make any man feel old and tired. Still, your so called gut feelings have been right too many times in the past and I for one am willing to trust you, especially since I get the same feeling.” Standing up again Dawan held his hand down to give Keln a lift to his feet. “Besides, what worries me more is why a patrol of that size is this far out from Maroth?”

Brushing some dirt from his pants, Keln stood up and stared in the direction the patrol had gone. What were they doing this far away from Maroth? Looking up at the sky he sighed, the sun was nearing the horizon and they were far from the nearest river. They would have to make a dry camp and worse, one with no fire to keep them warm. As warm as it could get in the days, the nights could become very chilly, but a fire would only act as a beacon to let that patrol know they were here. “Set the men to making camp Dawan, we will wait for Helson to return here. No fires tonight.” The other man only nodded before walking away. He already knew there would be no fires and Keln knew he knew. Still, Keln would not chance that one day his friend might have something on his mind and not think of it. He was a man like everyone else and there had been times when Dawan and Stepp have reminded him of things that should have been obvious.

His small army was a silent bustle of movement as they made camp; every man knowing a loud noise could bring a battle that Keln did not want. Stepp reached and grabbed the steel case on the back of his packhorse before hesitating then released it. His lute would be too loud tonight. As the sun set, the wind picked up and every man wrapped a blanket around him to keep warm, though Keln noticed that while some had their weapons next to them, others had a sword hilt or an axe haft rising up from inside of their blanket. Men sat huddled, eating dried bread and drinking water for their meal and not one of them grumbled. These were born warriors and had lived their lives in harder times. Many were deserters from Malok’s own army though Keln did not hold it against them. They had deserted because they did not agree with the way Malok treated his people and could not perform the immoral duties that Malok required of them anymore. There were a few who Keln saw as men who rode the line between good and evil yet even they could not face killing women and children in Malok’s name. So long as they kept their evil ways packed away while under his authority, he did not and would not hold anything against them. Many men had done things they regretted and some of those things would be enough to make ones toes curl if they knew, but what a man did in the past was no concern to Keln. So long as the man left his past where it belonged and kept an honest way about him, he would not hold that past against him.

An owl sounded and Keln winced, knowing all to well that they would have to change their signals. There were no owls in this area with no trees as far as the eye could see. Still it was good news to hear the owl. The owl told him someone was coming who was friendly and that could only be Helson. Keln did not get up though; he waited for Helson to come to him and as the wiry man walked up, Keln noticed how little noise came from his footsteps. He wished he could learn to do that. “What’d you find Helson?”

“It’s a good thing we didn’t attack them Keln.” All of the men called him Keln. There was no ‘Yes Sirs’ and ‘No Sirs’ required. “They have two elementals with them. At least I have to believe they were elementals for the way the other men all looked at them and…”

“And what Helson?” Though Keln had an idea he knew what was coming.

“And by some of the things a few of the men said sir.” That was the only time they ever used ‘Sir’, was when they knew they had done something they weren’t supposed to and were being confronted.

“So you went close enough to hear them talking did you? I told Stepp to tell you to follow them Helson. Not mingle with them. Did Stepp not tell you the same?” Keln knew the man did not mingle with them, but to get close enough to hear what the men were saying was close enough to it.

“Stepp told me to follow them sir. But in my defense he never said not to mingle.”

Keln stared at the man in silence until Helson dropped his eyes. “Where are they camped?”

“Well now that’s the funny part. I mean, well, they didn’t. I followed them ten miles and they showed no sign of breaking camp, even when it was growing dark.”

They never broke camp? They were on the move the whole time and yet Helson stayed close enough to hear the men talking? The man was far better than Keln had given him credit for.

Helson’s eyes stayed on the ground at his feet though. The man knew very well that he was caught taking a big risk. “In the future Helson, try not to take such risky chances. Go get something to eat.” But the man stayed where he was. “What is it?”

“Keln, I heard one of them talking about burning a village down. He did not say anything to say whether they had already done it or if they were heading somewhere to do it, but it might explain why they would travel at night.”

Keln rose to his feet, his hands balled tightly into fists. “They mean to catch them in their beds! Dawan, Stepp, get the men ready to move!” Catching Jahsen’s eyes looking at him, Keln winced slightly. “Okay you were right. We should have attacked them when we could have surprised them.”

Jahsen’s eyebrows rose up in surprise a moment before replying. “No, I was thinking that it was you that was right. If we had attacked them the death toll would’ve been much higher because we didn’t know they had elementals. Two of them! Now we do and if Helson can give us a good enough description of them maybe we can eliminate them with the first arrows if they are well placed.”

The small army was packed and ready to move out in short order, Keln was just settling himself in Rebel’s saddle when his brother Erek rode up next to him with one of the soldiers. “This is Sloan, he says he grew up in this area.”

Sloan only waited for Keln to nod to him before speaking. His voice was on the higher side for a man, yet it was soothing to the ears as well. Keln had an idea the man could probably sing pretty well. “Malok’s soldiers looked to be staying on the road and if they keep their pace through the night, they will reach ‘Domler’s Well’ just before sunrise. They must not be familiar with the area because there is another pass through those hills over there that would be quicker. In fact there is a place where the other pass rides along the ridge of the one the road leads through. It would be a good place to loose a few arrows and empty some of their saddles.”

“How long would it take us to make it to this ridge?”

Sloan pursed his lips a moment in thought while looking at the men around them. “It’s been a long time since I have been in the area Keln. If memory serves me right I would say maybe four hours, which should get us there an hour before the soldiers arrive.”

Keln turned and leaned over the other side of his horse ‘Rebel’ to spit, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “Sloan, you take the lead. Erek get the men moving, we need to rush it. I won’t take a chance that memory might be a little fuzzy and we arrive at the same time as Malok’s men. No offense Sloan, just got to play it safe is all.”

The ride through Sloan’s trail was harder than the man had remembered and in many cases the men had to get down and lead their mounts up and down steep slides. Over five hundred men with their horses sliding on their haunches made quite the racket however quiet they tried to be and the whole way to the ridge, Keln hunched his shoulders as he lost himself in thought. The soldiers had to hear them and would probably be looking for trouble now. With two elementals alert and ready for trouble, their trap would likely blow up in their face. What to do? Do we wait until they leave the hills and try attacking up ahead? Do we attack with their original idea and hope for the best? Do we… A slight smile crossed Keln’s lips then disappeared. An idea came to him and if played just right, it just might work. Soon Keln found himself looking down off of the ridge at the trail below, his smile growing stronger.

One hundred archers were set up at the ridge, just out of sight from the trail below. The two best shots in the lot of them stood in the front, well informed of the elementals descriptions. Stepp and four of Keln’s brothers all rode ahead to another point where they could see the opposite ridge and waited. From the Archers to his brothers a man sat his horse every fifty feet, focused on the man next to him closest to the archers. Keln stood just behind Erek as his brother peeked over the ridge at the soldiers passing below. Erek had a gift of luck and Keln used that whenever he could and right now Erek needed all the luck he could get. If he peeked over the ridge at the same time an elemental looked his way, he likely would not pull his head out of sight before he died. How gruesome his death would be all depended on what element was used. Fire was Keln’s personal worst fear. He had seen some men die from being burnt alive and he could not imagine a more horrible way to go.

Erek slowly pulled his head back from the edge before whispering into the ears of the two archers the approximate location of the elementals. Once Erek was confident the archers understood, he turned to Keln and nodded. Raising his left hand, Keln watched the motion repeated quickly down the trail towards where his other brothers were waiting. Ress and Jemmel sent large spheres of fire across the lower trail that crashed and exploded into the opposite ridge, raining tendrils of flame down on the trail ahead of the soldiers. Wenn and Stepp tore chunks out of the sides of the rocky walls allowing a small avalanche of stone to crash downwards while Jahsen drew the moisture from the air, sending large droplets of rain in every direction across the patrol’s path. It was all meant as a diversion of course and as soon as it began, the two archers stepped up to the ridge.

The ruckus up ahead did its job and every eye was focused on it, especially the elementals for they could feel the elements being twisted. As the archers took aim from just behind Malok’s elementals they loosed quickly but neither had anticipated the quickness in which the soldiers would recover. Malok’s men were well trained and after only a moment of shock they began to scan the walls around them again, ready for a raid. Seeing the archers at the ridge, one soldier shouted and pointed just as the arrows loosed. The first arrow took an elemental through the center of his back, the broad head protruding from the man’s chest where his heart would be.

The other elemental was a bit quicker and twisted to look just as the other arrow was on its way. The arrow took him hard in the right shoulder knocking him out of the saddle to fall out of sight. Immediately the other archers stepped forward, loosing their arrows in a hailstorm of death that rained down on Malok’s soldiers. Man and horse scattered and screamed as the arrows pierced flesh and even armor in some cases. Spheres of flame crashed into the front ranks of the soldiers and the earth erupted under their feet. Men screamed as the moisture was drawn out of their bodies and their screams seemed to echo until they fell into a pile of dust and bone.

Keln stood with Dawan and Erek and watched the onslaught. The soldiers below had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide as death rode through their ranks. On level ground this would have turned into a small battle as the soldiers would have charged and attacked, but being trapped in the small valley below, all they could do was die. As the attack slowed and came to a halt, Keln walked to the edge to study the chaos below. Everywhere the eyes could see there was death as men and horses lay scattered among severed body parts and piles of ash. It was as one-sided a victory as Keln had ever thought possible.

Motion caught Keln’s eye and he looked over just in time to see one of the elementals looking back at him. The man lay in a nest of carnage, his face and clothes covered in blood, but all that was wrong with the man himself was an arrow shaft sticking out of his right shoulder. Lifting a hand the elemental let loose a ball of flame that thundered right for Keln and suddenly the rebel leader knew his own death was at hand.

The shock of the fire coming straight for him seemed to fasten his feet to the ground and all Keln could do was stand there and wait. He knew he should move, dive to the side, but he couldn’t and truth be told he did not think he would have had time if he tried. The flame left the elementals hand and almost instantaneously was in front of him and all he had time to do was flinch. His eyes closed tight as he turned his face to the side while raising his hands as if they could stop it, then he fell to his back screaming before realization hit him. He was not burning! Opening his eyes, he looked up to see Erek standing there, smiling.

“Fire needs air to breath you dolt!” It was all he said but it was enough. Erek had the ability to control the air and he had sucked the oxygen out of the air causing the flame to dissipate.

Scrambling to his feet, Keln looked over the ridge to find the elemental lying with his eyes open staring lifelessly at the night sky. Looking over at Erek again, Keln’s brother explained with a slight smile and a shrug. “Men need air to breathe as well.”

Brushing himself off, Keln took another look at the carnage below. Enough moaning came from the trail below to give him a little hope. “I’m going down to try and get some answers. The Hounds and Writhes should be here soon enough, so don’t let anyone else down there. Have a few archers watch my back though, just in case one of them down there is healthy enough to try skewering me.”

The Writhes Keln referred to were the servants of death. Their long thin hands were about all one could see that was not covered with a shadowy like cloak which seems to move on its own accord. A dark shadow seemed to swarm over them at all times so nobody could see any real details, but it was said that if a man sees their eyes its because he is already dead. When someone is about to die, a Writhe will show up to take the soul to the after life. The Writhe Hounds were large dogs that served two purposes. One was to lead the Writhes to the dying and the other was to find the souls of those who were already dead and drag them back to the Writhes. Some believed it was only the souls that would perish in darkness that was taken while others believed the writhes did the handiwork of both darkness and light. Keln tended to believe in the former idea though. He could not believe that someone who led a good life would be dragged to the heavens by something like a writhe and he knew very well that there had been times that people had died and no writhe or writhe hound ever showed up. Though in truth that seemed to be a rare thing.

Erek swallowed hard at the thought of the Writhes coming and most of the men who had heard began to wet their lips. Any sane man would stay as far away from them as possible. If a Writhe felt you were trying to interfere, it would simply take your soul and let your corpse fall to the ground to die on its own. “You likely won’t find any answers you want Keln. Let’s just get away from here. The Writhes will be gone in a few hours and there still might be a few alive then.”
From the distance came an eerie howl and Keln stared that way for a moment. “You know I can’t do that Erek. I can’t take a chance someone who can give me an answer will die while we wait for the Writhes to leave.”

“Well just keep in mind. That sword of yours doesn’t make you invincible; it only gives you a fighting chance.”

Keln subconsciously reached down and touched the hilt of the Writhe Sword at his hip. At least that is what he called it. The blade as black as ash, it had a long two handed hilt wrapped in black leather and red string. The slender blade had a curvy writing etched into it that reached from hilt to tip, but to this day Keln had never learned what the writing said or ever found anyone who knew the language and in truth it didn’t matter. Only a handful of Writhe Swords existed and the old man who gave this one to him said all but one other was hidden. The most fascinating thing about the writhe sword was that it was the only weapon that could kill a Writhe. “Just watch my back will you?”

Keln was just turning to make his way down to the road below them when one of the archers swallowed audibly and mumbled something about salvation. Noticing all of the archers had their eyes in the sky to the south, he turned to watch a Writhe gliding eerily towards the valley below. Everyone stood stock-still, their eyes focused on the writhe as it loomed above the hundreds of dead men. It was unexpected for a Writhe to be there so quickly with no hound to guide it and Erek whispered something about how ugly they were.

Suddenly the writhe’s head turned bringing its focus to those on the ridge. Mouth opening wide it screeched, an ear piercing shrill sound and charged them. The attack was unexpected considering they were nowhere near in its way and every man shouted at the sight of it coming towards them with its long bony fingers extended forward as if intending to rip their souls out.

One archer, who Keln recognized as Leemik, was closest to the edge and began to back away then tripped. Falling hard to his back, the man hardly had a chance to begin screaming before the writhe latched onto him, one of its hands reaching into the man’s chest to take his soul.

Dropping the now empty body to the ground the writhe turned and charged at another man, its ear-piercing screech starting up again. Drawing his sword, Keln stepped in front of it and almost froze in terror as he looked into its eyes. Using the form known as ‘Flight of the Bat’ the sword slashed up then down again in a tight arc and the screeching faded as the shadowy figure of the writhe dissipated.

“What in the blazes was that all about?” His right hand pressed to his chest, Erek nearly shouted the question. “As much as those things scare me, I have watched them feed many times and I’ve never even heard of one going out of its way to attack the living.” After a slight hesitation, Erek spoke a question in a softer voice. “You think maybe it heard me call it ugly?”

Keln stood in silence, staring at the sky where it had come from. Why had it attacked like that? With so many of the dead and so many still dying, it could have feasted on souls to take to the afterlife. Why would it skip those to attack the living? His eyes dropped to the dead below again. Hundreds of men were dead and many others were still moaning. With so many, there would be a lot of writhes coming. What if they attack us as well? What if they did? “Erek, move the men out. Send word to the rest of the men that we are heading southwest, as fast as we can move. We don’t want to be near here if the other writhes are going to attack as well.”

The thought of it put enough fear in the heads of the others that Erek never had to give any orders before they were already moving out and shouting down the line of men that extended down the trail. There was no fear of going southwest when the writhe had come from the south. Writhes came from the after life and could appear from any direction. Heading straight in the direction of where one came from would be no safer or dangerous as any other direction. The important thing was to get away from where the writhes and death hounds would be going. As the group moved out, the first of the hounds began to appear in the sky and head in different directions chasing after souls that had run away. Knowing the writhes would be coming soon after; the party kicked their horses into a gallop.

Continue to ..... Maroz 6 - New Found Powers

Maroz 4 - The Elemental

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 02:53:00 +0000

Watching Jeed from the short distance as the old man wrote in his ledger, Willim wondered why the man lied. He knew a heart attack when he saw one. He had seen two of his Aunts die of heart attacks right in front of him. But if the old man wanted his heart problems kept a secret then so be it. He would not be the one to squeal.

“Pay attention lad! If you get yourself killed I could care less but it won’t be because I let you daydream rather than learn.” Willim had not seen the Lieutenant come up to him and jumped a little at the sound of the man’s gruff voice right next to him. The Lieutenant stared at him a moment longer before speaking again, this time in a gentler voice. “I like Jeed boy. He deserves better than how he is treated here and the fact you tried to help him is the only reason I didn’t lay the flat of a sword across your head for not paying attention. But my generosity only goes so far!”

Walking back out to the front of them, the Lieutenant went back to instructing them on the use of a sword again and Willim put the old man out of his mind. After all, he was now getting lessons on the sword and he had wanted to be good with one since he was a little boy. Ramos snickered slightly as he nudged him with an elbow while Lieutenant Cleese had his head turned and Willim had to grin back.

The first week of training went by pretty quietly with the exception of one recruit who lost his balance and tripped while doing the forms with a real sword. As he fell forward, the tip of the sword drove into the ground causing him to fall against it, leaving a deep gash across the inside of his left arm. Blood poured out of him faster than Willim would have ever believed from such a wound and before the instructor who was on the other side of the practice yard could get to him the bleeding stopped and the young man laid motionless. There were other wounds and plenty of them but it was that one deadly wound that stuck inside of every recruit’s head. The instructor turned the accident into the point of his next lesson. There was a main artery high up under the arm and when cut you would bleed out quickly. In most armor, that was an exposed area and a killing blow if the opportunity ever arises.

It was the second week when trouble began. During some free time, Willim walked along with Ramos discussing their lessons, when a soldier stepped around the corner and Willim walking backwards at the moment crashed into him. Both of them fell to the ground and Willim jumped up quickly and offered the soldier a hand as he apologized. Rather than taking his hand, the soldier jumped up and seized Willim by the front of his shirt and shoved him backwards and drew his sword. The sound of the sword rasping against its sheath caused a few others heads to turn but nobody moved to interfere. “You’re gonna pay for that boy!”

“Whoa, mister, I said I was sorry. It was a mistake!” Willim backed away with his hands out, desperately trying to figure out a way to defend himself. Not much was coming to mind. Even if he had a sword of his own already, he would be no match against a veteran and by the looks of the scar on the man’s cheek he had seen some action and his being alive made it evident he had likely won. Pleading with him did no good though and as the soldier advanced, Willim could see a gleam in the man’s eyes. This fellow didn’t mean to just teach him a lesson but very well meant to kill him.

Suddenly a large clump of soil seemed to get caught on the soldier’s foot and he pitched forward, his eyes wide with surprise. As soon as he hit the ground, Willim watched in amazement, as roots seemed to sprout up and wrap around the angry soldier’s legs and arms.

“What the…” Then a look of understanding swept over the man’s face as he began to glare around at the others until he found what he was looking for. “Tremores, this is your doing and you know it. Let me up or…”

“Or what Gills? What will you do? Scream for help like a girl? You’re tough enough to pick on someone weaker than yourself, so what’s so bad about me picking on you? Its about the same match up wouldn’t you say? Oh, bit it’s different now that you are on the other end of the rope this time, isn’t it?”

Willim stared at Tremores for a moment before suddenly realizing what was happening. “You’re an elemental!” As soon as he blurted it out he wished he could have had it back. It was difficult enough to keep from standing out among the veterans. Everyone else seemed to take Tremores as a fact of every day life. Blurting out the obvious only served to make Willim look more like the new recruit than he was.

As the roots loosened and drew back into the ground, Tremores spoke again to Gills. “Now get on your way Gills and leave the recruits alone. Find your fun using the enemy not our own. Yes I am an elemental, one of only three in this army who have enough strength to matter much; the other two are out on patrol. Just so you understand, I am still a man so don’t go staring at me in awe every time you see me like so many others do alright?”

It took Willim another second to realize Tremores was speaking to him. “Huh? Oh, yeah, you bet. Thanks for helping me out. I’m betting I didn’t have much of a chance to come out of that alive.”

Tremores chuckled slightly before answering. “Well I am not sure just how much I helped. ‘Gills’ likes to kill and he looks for the slightest excuse. He will want you dead now and he will look for you to be alone.”

Willim stood silent for a moment while studying the elemental and was slightly surprised the man did not look any different than any other man. His long brown hair was pushed back into a ponytail and he wore a beard and mustache that he kept trimmed neatly, then suddenly Willim saw one difference. Tremores was a shorter thin man but he held an air of confidence that most men don’t have. He supposed that if one has his kind of powers, it would naturally give a man confidence in himself though.

“Better to be alive and worrying about tomorrow than not having a tomorrow to worry about.” Ramos had been standing in silence and when he spoke, it made Willim's nerves jump just a little. He had forgotten his friend was with him.

“Well, just the same you two take extra care for now. I will see what I can do about Gills for you. The Captain will do most anything to keep me happy here, he’s afraid I might defect to another army if I am not happy.”

Willim and Ramos shook hands with the elemental and went on their way, both deep in their own thoughts. They were a long ways from home and now they had made their first enemy in Gills. Yet maybe they had also made their first friend in Tremores.

Continue to ... Maroz 5 - A Writhe Attacks

Maroz 3 - Ailing Heart

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 04:17:00 +0000

“Jeed, where are you at Jeed?”
Jeed Comisti flinched at the sound of the emperor’s shout. He had not heard Malok call him before, but from the shout it was certain that he had, and Jeed just had not heard. Picking up his leather bound folder with all of his papers, sand jar, pen and ink, he scurried out of his room into the Grand Hall where Malok would be, all the while hoping Malok was not in a sour enough mood to have him beaten again for being too slow. At the age of sixty-three years, Jeed’s body seemed much older and every joint hurt as he hurried to his emperor, he was not in shape to be taking too many beatings. Pushing through the large double doors he hurried towards Malok while continuously bowing and begging his pardon for causing him to shout. Reaching the correct distance from the throne, Jeed dropped into a low bow, ignoring the pain running through his back.

Malok sat in his throne, an overly large oak chair with an even higher back to it. Every inch of the woodwork was gilded with intricate carvings showing men battling in much too detailed scenes than should be displayed. Above Malok’s head, the chairs back spread wider to show a scene of one man cutting the head off of another. At their feet lay the crown that Malok now wore. The scene had depicted how Malok took over the throne in the first place. It was custom in the land of Maroz that whoever should kill the Emperor in his own Throne room would take the throne himself. None had tried to kill Malok in near a dozen years now though.

Lifting his head just enough to peek up at the Emperor, Jeed could see one reason why nobody has tried to kill him. Malok was an imposing figure, standing a full eight inches over six feet with wide shoulders. His piercing black eyes were like pools of darkness that made one feel as if they could swallow your soul. Though his hair now had as much silver in it as it did its original black, it did nothing to take away from the intimidating appearance of strength. The black clothing he wore was trimmed in silver and gold, which matched very well with the sword at his side. The sword was only one of a pair that Jeed had ever seen. The blade was near as black as the leather wrapped hilt and the gold writing that was etched into the blade gave it a very mysterious look. The sheath the sword was set into was designed to look like the blade itself. Rumor had it that he had killed a man for the blade, though Jeed knew the rumor to be false. The truth was that a man came to him looking to sell the blade thinking royalty would pay more for it. The man was right and would have walked away a very rich man if he had been willing to sell Malok its match. When the man refused, Malok dropped the price for the one down by half and gave the fellow a choice of taking the offer or being drawn and quartered. The seller still left with a good sum of money if not so much as he was hoping for. Jeed could never figure out why Malok did not just have the man killed and keep both swords. Not that Jeed felt he should have done so, but to let the man live and leave with the matching blade was far more generous than was usual for Malok.

The second reason nobody has tried to kill Malok in so long was that he was an Elemental. Not just any elemental though, but a second level elemental. An elemental was ranked by how many of the five elements he could control. Single level elementals were rare enough but to control two elements was extremely rare. To Jeed’s knowledge, Malok was the only living class two elemental. Only once before has it ever been recorded for a human to control three of the five elements and that man became so overwhelmed with his power that his own army turned against him and killed him. Even so, thousands had died while the land looked as if it was overturned for miles around the battle.

Malok sat there studying Jeed for a long moment before shaking his head. “New recruits are arriving Jeed. I want a report on each of them and don’t dawdle this time!”

Bowing his head as he backed out of the room, Jeed closed the doors before turning and hurrying through the corridors towards the soldier’s grounds. He had lived in the palace for so long that he no longer looked twice at the skeletons that lined the long halls. Skeletons of all different beasts and humans had been assembled and wearing their original armor, if there was any, to remind everyone of those who had tried to attack Maroth. Someday another would try and he and his champions would be added to the collection as well. The palace of Maroz was impenetrable and Jeed knew it well. At one particular skeleton though, Jeed did stop for a quick second. Touching his fingertips to his lips he kissed them then pressed them to the forehead of the skull. Rogin Tashew was a good King and had treated him very kindly before Malok killed him. Pushing through the outer doors, Jeed pulled a silk kerchief from his pocket and wiped some sweat from his face as he made his way down the steps to where all of the recruits were standing. I must be getting a bug or something! He thought, for he had never broken a sweat from this little bit of walking in the past. Captain Hanier stood facing the young men, his back to him as Jeed came up behind him. Even so, he instantly knew it was Jeed who was coming.

“…will not be acceptable!” He was saying to the lads. “Jeed, who is coming up behind me will be asking each of you some questions. You will answer him respectfully and quickly! When you are through answering his questions, you will see Lieutenant Cleese who is that shorter dark haired man over there by the rack of practice swords.” Turning, Hanier gave Jeed one simple nod before walking away, already un-strapping his armor as he walked.

The questions were simple and quickly became very redundant to the point a few of the recruits began to answer without waiting for him to ask. What is your name? Have you any birth defects? What town are you from? How old are you? Have you any ability in controlling any elements? That one was always a no. No army has ever had more than four elementals enlisted at one time. Over and over again he would write the answers down in his ledger until he reached a tall lad with brown hair and wide at the shoulders. Jeed was still writing the answers down when his sweating seemed to become much worse. Wiping his brow again, a sudden feeling of nausea swept over him and he felt as if his chest was set into a vice. The world around him began to spin and turn when the lad grabbed him shouting for help. The clamping feeling in Jeed’s chest grew worse until a warm feeling rushed through him and the clamping released and the sweating began to lessen.

“What’s going on here?” It was the Lieutenant who had come running. Roughly shoving the lad away, he grabbed Jeed. “You alright Jeed? What did the boy do to you?”

Breathing heavily, Jeed slowly got back to his feet while shaking his head. “It was not the recruit Lieutenant Cleese. I just have a bug or something I think. The lad only grabbed me to stop me from falling. I, I think I will be alright.” Even so, Jeed took a few more minutes to gather his wits before returning to writing their answers down. It wouldn’t do to have heart problems now. Not when there was so much to do. Especially not when it would be so easy for Malok to toss him out of the palace without a penny to his name and replace him with someone healthy.

Continue to Maroz 4 - The Elemental

Maroz 2 - Willim

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 21:21:00 +0000

“Willim put that thing away this instant!” His mother stood in the doorway with her fists on her hips, watching. Her long red hair was pinned up as always when she was cooking, though a few tendrils of loose curls hung down over her brow. Flour seemed to cover most of her apron. “You know how much I hate it when you play with that thing.”

Willim never slacked while doing his chores but whenever he had the time, out would come the sword he was now putting away. Well, sort of a sword. He thought as he slid it into the sheds rafters. At eighteen years old, Willim was taller and stronger than most of the young men his age and after seeing a merchant’s guard once, he had taken a large stick and shaved it down until it held the likeness of a sword. Soon the stick was not good enough and he found a piece of steel and asked the forger to form it into a sword. Nothing fancy or even sharp, his mother would not allow that, just the likeness so he could have the right weight. When finding out how much it would cost, he made a deal with the black smith to work around the forge cleaning up once a week until it was paid off. Every day he practiced with it and every day his mother would tell him to put it away. A few times his father had seen him practicing and had even showed him a few moves as well, though how his father knew anything about how to handle a sword he had no idea. The army likely had recruited him when he was young like it did most young men, but his father had never spoke of being in the army. Still he very well might have been a soldier. They had only really been his parents for a portion of his life.

His real mother and father had died in a fire along with his younger brother and sister some years earlier. He had forgotten how many exactly. His current parents had taken him in and loved him like their own and as time went on he had learned to return the feelings. The first thing they did was to give him a new name and that alone took the most time to get used to. It was not easy getting used to answering to a new name. So there was much about his father’s early years that he still did not know. Unfortunately when his mother told him to put the sword away, his father would always side with her.

Walking to the well in the back of the house, Willim shrugged out of his shirt and washed off before going inside to eat. His mother still stood at the door watching him as he squeezed past her. “Willim, why would you want so badly to learn to use a sword anyway?”
Willim just shrugged his shoulders as he slid his shirt back over his head. “I just like them is all Ma.”
“But you know how the soldiers come through each year looking for young men. You don’t want to be a soldier for Malok do you?”

Malok was the Emperor of Maroz and not a soul in the land liked him. He let his people starve and taxed them highly. The thought of doing Malok’s will was a sour one at best. “They don’t take anyone under twenty Ma. By then I will leave and join a merchant’s guards. They do not take Merchants guards away from them.”

Willim’s mother only turned around shaking her head. The soldiers were due any day and she knew it well. She had feared that someday they would take her boy away and every year he grew taller and bigger. The years of having him home were growing shorter and she dreaded the very thought of the year the soldiers would take him.

As if the discussion had called their attention, another younger lad ran past their house shouting. “Soldiers are coming! Soldiers are coming.” The boys’ shouting was almost immediately followed by the sounds of horses’ hooves beating on the ground. A lot of horses!

Willim ran to the window and was accompanied by his mother as they stared at the soldiers pulling hard on their reigns while a few began dismounting. “Ma, they’ll be taking Ramos this year!”
Ramos had turned twenty not a month earlier and was Willim’s best friend. The two had spent as much of their free time together as they could, while imagining adventures in lands outside of Maroz. Now his friend would be drafted into Malok’s army and all of their dreams would be smashed. His mother’s hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed slightly trying to comfort him but it had no effect. He would lose his best friend today.

The Captain of the soldiers still sat in his saddle, but he ran a long gaze over the small town before cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting. “Bring out the young men! Every lad over the age of thirteen must be brought out!”

The age did not surprise Willim and his mother for they always called for the same to be brought out. They would look them over and make notes as to what to expect from each town the following year. In some cases if a particular town did not have enough young men coming of age, it would not be worth the effort to visit the town the next year if it took the recruiters too far out of the way. With a grim expression though, Willim shrugged his mothers hand off and walked out to face the soldiers and to say goodbye to Ramos, but as he stepped through the door he was a little surprised at the pandemonium. Mothers were crying while fathers gave their sons some last minute advice. Young men walked in almost a trance, their eyes wide with fear for what their futures would hold. Willim had no fear of that though; his time would not come for another two years and by then he would join a merchants guards. He would join them!

The Captain was shouting for the young men to form a line and for the parents to let them be when Willim saw Ramos getting into the line. Ramos was as tall as Willim though not quite as wide in the shoulders. His blonde hair hung to those shoulders with the slight breeze blowing a few wisps across his face. Hurrying over to stand next to his friend Willim nudged him with an elbow and smiled. “Guess the girls will have something to cry about now huh Ramos?” Ramos was one to love the girls and they loved him. Any chance he could, he would find away to end up behind a barn or somewhere secluded kissing one pretty girl or another. Though he knew Ramos would not admit it, Willim had his suspicions his friend had done far more than kissing with a few of them.

A small smile appeared on Ramos face at the thought of it. “Well it will give you a chance for one or two now that I won’t be around.”

Willim out right laughed at that. He was not one the girls liked so much. Oh he had been told he was cute and a few looked at him now and then but for the larger part they had their eyes on someone else. Usually Ramos! “Yeah, maybe now that they’ll give me a chance they will see they won’t be missing so much after all with you gone huh?”

It was Ramos turn to laugh but it was cut short as the Captain stopped his horse in front of them and spoke. His voice was hard and gruff. “You boys like to laugh? Well there won’t be much to laugh at in the Emperors army. Up early every morning and to bed late with nothing in between but hard work and training. Most days you might get a meal or two if you are lucky but not always mind you. We will make soldiers out of you, that is, if you live long enough to become one. What is still funny to you boy?”

Willim cleared his throat before he answered. He was hoping that he had gotten the smile off of his face but the captain must have seen one there anyway. “Nothing sir, nothing is funny really. From the sound of it, I am just glad I have a couple years to wait is all.”

Willim’s smile was wiped clean from his face when the Captain smiled down at him. A mischievous smile and one as evil looking as Willim had ever seen. “Sorry lad, this year is different. We have lowered the age to seventeen. You are coming with us!”

The words seemed to crash down on Willim like a mountain and he felt light in the head as the captain raised his voice to make the announcement to the rest of the people. Mothers, including Willim’s, who thought their child to be safe, began crying and begging the captain to not take them. One woman fainted and fell hard to the ground while nobody noticed for being caught up in his or her own worries. One woman, who Willim recognized to be his friend Carlon’s mother grabbed Carlon and began dragging him away from the soldiers while shaking her head and repeating the word “No” over and over. What Willim thought, had been pandemonium before was now chaos as he watched it all happen in shock. He had thought he had another two years to get away and join a merchant’s guards rather than be drafted and now here he was being told he would be taken as well.

In the corner of his eye, Willim saw the Captain point and say something to his corporal when an arrow flashed across his vision to embed itself in the back of Carlon’s mother. Carlon screamed as he watched his mother fall face first, dead as she hit the ground. Wrapping his fingers around the shaft, Carlon pulled the arrow out and spun on his feet to charge the Corporal who held the bow, shouting wordlessly as he ran. Willim screamed for him to stop but was too late as another arrow took his friend in the throat. Carlon stopped where he was, wide eyed as he fumbled with the shaft as if wondering how it had gotten there before falling backwards to stare at the sky through empty eyes.

Everyone now stood in silence. Some out of shock and others out of fear they might receive the next arrow, but they stood silent all the same. The rest of the soldiers on horses all lifted bows nocked with arrows to give those fears a reality. The captain cleared his throat to draw their attention to him before he spoke in a harsh voice. “I will have no more insubordination from anyone! As I had said, the age this year will be seventeen, now anyone over thirteen get in line and be ready to give your age and name. Remember, we will be comparing your answers to the records from last year. If we find anyone lies, he will be arrested and hung.”

Willim looked at his mother, her eyes red with tears and mouthed the words. “It’s okay!” Right then he wished his father was there to comfort her and knew she would have to find her comfort from friends. His father had gone to the city of Golom to sell some horses. Horses brought a strong premium in the bigger cities and they needed the money. He was sorry he would not be able to tell his father good-bye. “It’s okay.” He whispered to her again, though this time he was trying to convince himself.

No horses were provided for the new recruits and none of them were allowed to bring their own horse if they owned one. It was the first training they would have, to hike from village to village until they made it back to the palace of Maroth on foot. A half an hour walking took them well out of sight of the town before they reached the soldiers camp where thousands of other recruits stood or sat around still looking as scared as the newest of them. No talking was aloud while traveling and once they reached the camp there was no time to as the soldiers immediately began mounting and settling the young men into long lines for the upcoming march. For three months they walked, only getting rests at night or while soldiers went into a town to draft more recruits. As soon as they returned it was back to walking again. Early into the fourth month they topped a rise and everyone stopped to stare at the city of Maroth in the distance. Maroth was supposed to be the largest city in the world and the capitol of Maroz.

A wall of dark stones and boulders as high as any Willim had ever seen surrounded the city with a black iron fence mounted to the top where soldiers walked. From the distance Willim couldn’t make out any faces or even if they were men or women but he could see them move slowly from one end to the other and back again as they patrolled those walls. Deep into the city there stood the Palace as if placed on top of a tall flat-topped mountain. The ground of the palace stood higher than any building or tower in the city, and from each entrance thin trails of steps lead down toward the city. The palace itself seemed dark and ominous as if it was some great beast looking down at the city crowding in around its plateau. Black stoned walls ended in towers at even increments and those towers looked even darker than the rest of the palace. Large bronze colored flags hung limply from tall poles at the top of each tower. The sight of the dark palace sent a tinge of fear down Willim’s spine but he decided that was what it was meant to do. Put fear into your enemy’s hearts and half the battle was already won. That’s what his father had told him.

A boot heel hit Willim in the back and he stumbled forward a few steps trying to keep from falling on his face. “Move along boy! We can’t stand and gawk all day!” It was the captain that had kicked him and Willim decided to let it pass. It would do him no good to stand up to someone who was stronger than he was, especially when that someone was a trained soldier.
Walking through the main gates of the city, Willim nearly stopped and stared again before Ramos gave him a little nudge to keep moving. He had been to ‘Golom’ once or twice but ‘Maroth’ was at least twice as big. Thousands of people walked the street, some calling out their wares while others looked over different merchandise. Involuntarily Willim’s hands began to move to cover his ears before he snatched them down again. The constant hubbub was like sticking your head into a large beehive and he winced at how loud it was. There was never so much noise back in his small town.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Ramos had a look of awe about him as he tried to see everything that happened at once. His face held a huge smile that Willim had not seen since they had left home.

“It’s too loud for my taste.” He replied and got a swat to the back of his head from the captain for doing so.

“No talking when we’re traveling boy!” The captain held him with a tight stare as he rode past.
Looking over at Ramos, Willim was a little glad to see his friend rubbing the back of his head as well. At least he was not the only one who received a smack. Ramos saw the small smile and returned it with a slight shrug. Right then, Willim was glad his friend was there with him. It would make what he was facing so much easier to handle. Together they walked with the rest of the recruits and ignored those who watched them pass.

Halfway through the city a large cart carried by five men came up along the recruits, the bald headed fat men sitting on top looking over the young men with a scowl but did not speak until he came up next to the captain. “One of my carriers died this morning Captain. I was wondering if you might sell me one of your recruits since you seem to have so many of them this time around. I will give you fifty in gold for one of them.”

The captain scowled at the bald headed man before answering. “A hundred in gold Corson. One hundred or you can travel with five carriers for all I care.”

Corson laughed feebly but still he looked over the new recruits. “Right, Captain. One hundred it is but I get to choose the one I want.” At the captain’s nod, Corson gave the recruits yet another long look before pointing at a large fellow who Willim did not recognize with strong shoulders and legs and curlier dark hair.

Realizing it was he who Corson was pointing at, the curly haired lad suddenly stood up straighter, his chin raising a notch. “I may be drafted captain, but I will not be sold like a slave!” All the while he stared hard at Corson.

Riding back to the young man, the captain suddenly backhanded him hard across the face, but when the curly haired fellow did not fall, the captain kicked him in the head with a boot. Seeing the lad on the ground shaking his head, the captain gave himself a satisfied nod. “You’ll be done with however I feel like doing it. Now I don’t take good gold for rotten goods boy. If I hear from Corson you are causing any trouble I’ll knock that skull of yours into the White Bay, you here me?” Then turning to Corson he finished. “If he is too much trouble Corson, you go ahead and kill him and bring me his head. I’ll let you pick a new one.” Taking the gold from Corson, the captain started the recruits moving again, leaving the dazed curly haired fellow for Corson to deal with.
As the recruits went by him, not one of them looked down at him. It could have been any one of them and they very well knew it. Willim shared a silent look with Ramos. Light, he actually sold one of them as a slave!

It took Willim a moment to realize the captain was speaking. “Believe it or not, that boy got the easy road. He will have a softer bed and eat far better than any of you will. His punishments will be far lighter and fewer between as well. Corson treats his carriers well, too well in my opinion.” The last part was said in an almost mumbling sound as he rode away from them.

Continue to next part.....

Maroz 1 - Death Comes

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 05:27:00 +0000

Death will come, riding on a black horse to swallow the world in his shadow. They and he of the five will bind together and the sixth will defeat the darkness.

Jeck Henly took pride in keeping his little house clean, which included sweeping any leaves from the pathway from his house. He was an old man and had long since retired as a bookkeeper, so keeping his place neat was as much of a way to pass time, as a care for cleanliness. As the wind picked up it lifted the cap from his balding head and he reached up to grab it before it got away. Placing the hat back on tightly, Jeck went back to sweeping as if it had never happened. It was almost a game to him; a sense of stubbornness, that he would out last the wind that day and when the wind finally died away he felt a growing satisfaction as he swept the remaining leaves from the stone path. Half way down the path he stopped with a curious wonder as the sky to the west looked as if it was noon, which it was, but the sky above him looked as if it was dusk. There was not a cloud in the sky, yet the day continued to grow darker though the sun should still be high. Others were noticing the strangeness as well and they stopped what they were doing to look around in a curious fashion, and soon every eye became fastened on the eastern sky, its near pitch dark crawling toward them.

Within a few hours the village was covered in darkness as if it was night and every person had a lamp and was outside talking to one another giving their opinions of what was happening. “The moon had moved to block the sun”. No, it was not the right time or year for that. “The sun had gone out like in the stories of Maryth and his adventures.” No, they could still see the sun shining just a short distance to the west. The ideas came and were promptly pushed away as common sense took over; still they could not come up with a reasonable answer for what was happening.

Jeck rubbed his chin for a moment before deciding on one fact. He would trust his instinct and get away. He was an elemental, though be it a very weak one, and very few knew of it. Nonetheless his ability was in spirit and he had long ago learned to trust his feelings when they grabbed at his stomach even half as strong as he felt them now. Not only was something not right, something was dreadfully wrong, and he could feel it in his core. The few he tried to tell only laughed at him, accusing him of being afraid of the dark, so he ignored them as he went inside and packed quickly. They should know better than to ignore his warnings! Did he not warn them to bring their crops in early two years ago before a swarm of locust destroyed them? Did he not warn them not to go out to sea to fish on the dreadful day last summer, before rough waters took three boats? Twice they have ignored his feelings and twice they had paid dearly and still they laugh at him again! Wrapping his gnarled fingers around his sack he lifted it over his shoulder and went back outside.

The others were now joking about the strange shadow covering their town and a few laughed as he walked with his bag to the stables and saddled his horse ‘Clops’. More joined in with jaunts of their own as he rode out of the barn and out of town, but he ignored them every inch of the way. The western ground rose steadily for a hundred paces and he was just topping the rise when he heard a distant scream behind him. Turning Clops around, Jeck watched in horror as small winged creatures began attacking the people. The creatures had legs and arms like humans with wings of bats. The people were screaming as they ran from them or tried in vain to fight them, but there were too many, far too many to fight. Where someone would fall, the creatures would converge on them and moments later would be off again looking for their next victim, leaving behind them a scattering of flesh wrought bones. Writhes with their ghostly cloaks were there as well, snatching the souls out of the dying and living, the death hounds attacking any souls trying to get away. Lamps were turned over or smashed, the flames spreading quickly through the village creating a hellish background to all of the chaos. Yet, out of this entire unbelievably nightmarish scene, it was not the fire or the people dying or the winged beasts or writhes that attracted Jeck’s eye, but the rider that seemed to go untouched. A man in a dark cloak riding on a black horse moved slowly among the carnage, surveying the handiwork; his cloak swirling around as if caught up by a breeze when there was none. He and his black horse moved right through heavy flames and neither rider nor horse ever showed any sign of noticing.

Suddenly the rider’s head swung to look in Jeck’s direction and a thin pasty white hand lifted and pointed at him. Some of the winged creatures turned and started to fly towards him but it took Jeck a moment to move, for it was difficult to tear his eyes away from the dark clad stranger.

Spinning Clops around he dug his heels into the horse’s ribs and rushed away and as he sped on, the darkness slowly began to give away to light but behind him he could hear the flapping of the wings gaining on him quickly. The darkness was fading still but too slowly he thought. He would never make it to the light in time.

“Darn my blasted curiosity!” Jeck said to his horse. “I had to stop and watch didn’t I Clops? Now I might be ripped to shreds just like all the others!”

As the creatures came closer he started to hear more than just their wings. They began to utter words at him in thin scratchy voices, though whatever it was that they were saying, he didn’t understand a word. They were speaking in a language that sounded harsh and foreign to any he had ever heard before.

Urging Clops for more speed, Jeck began to fear the worst when he realized the wings were no longer getting closer, but were only keeping pace and then a moment later began to fall back. Risking a look behind him as he sped away he could see the creatures hovering at what must have been their limit, their hands clenching and loosening as if upset he had gotten away. One of the creatures that tried to continue after him began to scream, just for an instant, before it exploded into a cloud of dust. Pulling Clops to a halt, Jeck sat his saddle and watched them for a moment before realizing they were not hovering but they were moving slowly towards him. Their speed seemed coincided with that of the shadow he sat at the edge of.

The air near the flying creatures began to blur for a moment, then a larger beast stepped out of the air to stand amongst them. Though this one did not fly, its body was heavily muscled with thick arteries showing through its leathery skin.

"That one ‘Clops’”, Jeck had a habit of speaking to his horse like it was his best friend. “Would have pulled our limbs off without any help from his friends.” Jeck spoke the words quietly as if afraid to hear them himself.

Realizing the shadow was now moving faster than it had when it first hit his village; Jeck decided he had best keep moving. There would be villages ahead of him that would need to be warned if they would listen. He was sure they would not listen but he would give them that chance anyway. As he turned Clops to the west, he could hear the larger beast shout from behind him. Again he didn’t recognize the language but somehow he knew what the words meant as if they had been uttered in the spirit just so he would understand. “You cannot run from Death!”

Continue to next part.....

Privacy Policy

noreply@blogger.com (K.J. Ester) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 04:23:00 +0000

Privacy Policy

At My Fantasy Novel, we recognize that privacy of your personal information is important. Here is what types of personal information we receive and collect when you visit My Fantasy Novel, and how we safeguard your information. We will never sell or give away your personal information to third parties. (Heck, I wouldn't know how to if I wanted to. And I would never want to.)

Log Files
As with most other websites, we collect and use the data contained in log files. The information in the log files include your IP (internet protocol) address, your ISP (internet service provider, such as AOL or Shaw Cable), the browser you used to visit our site (such as Internet Explorer or Firefox), the time you visited our site and which pages you visited throughout our site.

We verify your IP against blacklists to avoid spam on our blog and forum. If you are using automated means to spam or disrupting service on My Fantasy Novel we will submit your IP, log in name and any other information we collect to appropriate parties. This may include local authorities or websites tracking spam such as HoneyPotNet, Akismet, and StopForumSpam.

Cookies and Web Beacons
It is possible we may be using Cookies and/or Web Beacons here at My Fantasy Novel but in all honesty, it is not my intent if so. It would be something that happens beyond my limited Blogging knowledge.

To my understanding, Advertising partners and other third parties may also use cookies, scripts and/or web beacons to track visitors to our site in order to display advertisements and other useful information. Such tracking is done directly by the third parties through their own servers and is subject to their own privacy policies.

You can chose to disable or selectively turn off our cookies or third-party cookies in your browser settings, or by managing preferences in programs such as Norton Internet Security. However, this can affect how you are able to interact with our site as well as other websites. This could include the inability to login to services or programs, such as logging into forums or accounts.