Fiction Monday: A piece from a WIP

Sometimes you write something perfect the first time – or, at least, as near to perfect as you can. Sometimes you just need to put it aside for a while before a rewrite. And sometimes you find out that the piece you’re working on will needs some more work; or have gone from light-hearted fun to something more sinister in a world you want to know more about. And then you realise you’re going to need some more rewrites before you’re completely happy with it. But this is the story so far…

Alenisse, the Wizard's Apprentice

(Being part 2 of Wizard and the Shadows)

Alenisse had followed the other refugees to the south, fleeing the northern lands wrecked with war. She had been stupid – waiting through all the rumours and never believing that war would truly come. And then it had been too late. The redeemer was not in the north and the wizards were left with no other choice but to flee to the south as well, following the Skadu'sdinge that spread from their Lord, bent on taking on all of the lands for themselves.

She nearly caught up with the wizard She'ne'ar in Dorburg, but found that he had left a day after arriving. He had been like a father to her, and, like her, could feel the tug of the Shadow and know the fear that clutched at your heart as a product of the Shadow. He was moving fast, following the Skadu'sdinge and she would follow him. Perhaps he had a rare gift and sensed the redeemer further south. She felt nothing until she had passed through Dorburg.

The tug on her mind led her into the valley with its various settlements. Terraced fields lay green and fresh and she could almost forget the stench of smoke and battle that had wrecked her home. The people on the farms took in some of the refugees – mostly those strong enough to work or old enough for their pity. She could not stop, no matter how tired she was. Not now. Not with the tug of the Shadow growing stronger. She was gaining.

She followed the road and the tug of the Shadow to a village and the end of the valley. Refugees huddled in the muddy streets, some begging for money, food or work. Some had enough money to rent a room in the inn and or afford a warm dinner. She made her way to the inn, fighting to keep back the tears from fatigue and the pain of her bruised and blistered feet. He would be waiting there, she surmised, waiting for a message or a sign.

She was still some way away when she saw the wizard coming from the inn and stumbling away from her. Her heart beat faster and she pushed the pain in her feet and body aside. With short, nervous strides she followed him through the village. When he spoke in the ancient tongue, she heard the words echo in her mind. The Fear started to grip her and then she, too, started speaking in the tongue, driving the Shadow away.

The wizard turned a corner and Alenisse had to run a few steps to keep up. As she turned into the next street, a blinding pain shot through her mind before pulling away. The Skadu'sdinge knew she was here, the thought flashed through her mind before another flash of pain pelted her. She sank to her knees, unable to fight the pain in her weakened state. Then, suddenly, the pain was gone. The Shadows had found other prey. She stumbled to her feet again. 

When she caught up with him, he was already fighting the Skadu'sdinge, his strong voice accompanied by swirling wind. Inside the house she could just make out the boy he was protecting. The people in the streets fled from the place, some making a sign against evil. Alenisse yearned to follow them, to obey the hammering of fear that begged her to get away from this place as far as she could. With her last resolve she urged her body forward to help her master. But then the old wizard's legs buckled and he fell, the wind dying even as his heartbeat slowed. Alenisse ran over, cursing herself for being such a coward. She knelt by the old wizard, the tears she had kept inside so long flowing free. She put her hand on his brow to try and calm him. To try and keep him with her. “Rus in vrede, my vriend. Hê rus op jou nuwe pad," she uttered between the tears, wishing the sound of her voice would let him notice her as well before he passed. But he only looked at the boy. The boy who did not even know the ancient tongue or why he had been chosen.

She wiped the tears from her eyes while fine ash fell all around them. He had destroyed the Skadu'sdinge plaguing the boy this night. And now she would take up the fight. She will have to be strong. The Shadow still spread its fear and she felt the incessant tug on her mind. She rose, turning in the direction of the tug.

A dark figure materialised from the shadows, in his hand a dagger of pure shadow. Alenisse swallowed. This one would not be driven away or destroyed by uttering a few words. She became still inside, pushing aside the fear that emanated from the Shadow being. In the silence she found the source of power inside of her. She reached out to the light and drew upon its energy. She lifted her hands, stepping between the Shadow being and the boy, telling him to stay behind her. The power she unleashed slammed into the Shadow being and he took a step back, ash falling from his chest. He laughed hollowly, turning his featureless head towards her. But he reached his fear and shadow past her to the boy. She hit him with another blow of power, this time targeting the faceless features turned to her. He howled, ash falling from the shadow-face. Alenisse smiled. There was some things the Shadow could not take from humans. She reached inside of her, gathering up as much light and power as she could.

"Na die verderf met jou," she said under her breath and released a flow of power. The power was this time lit with a blinding light. The Shadow tried to duck around the flow and stabbed with his shadow blade at Alenisse. He was able to cut her arm before the lights engulfed him. His pained howl was cut off abruptly. Ash rained to the ground.

Alenisse felt the peace of the power remain even though her power was all spent. She sank to the ash strewn ground just as her master before her.

The boy neared her, his face smeared with ash and tears. Alenisse reached up to her neck and took the orange stone set in silver, giving it to the boy. "Go south," she said, placing the stone in his palm. "The stone will lead you. You are the one, you are the saviour of our people." His face seemed to be lit by sunlight and she smiled even as her sight dimmed.

Wizard

The Wizard and the Shadows – Flash Fiction

Here’s a flash piece I wrote for SFFWorld under the theme “Fantasy cliché”. I just had to make the “ancient language” the youngest Germanic language…


Next week I'll have a new flash piece and worldbuilding from Airthai's Southern Lands and a new map.

The Wizard and Shadows

One will come who will not carry a shadow. One will come that will walk always in the sun. One will come to free the north.

--Prophecy of the Sage Sha’alga’ar, the year 1985 (Translation into the common tongue completed in 3042)

Refugees had started arriving in the valley even before Winter began. They came from the north, fleeing to the southern plains and valleys to get away from the war between the Elves and Dwarfs that consumed the lands north of the Firewater Mountains. The Môrevallei Valley had always been a quiet place, keeping its own to its own, wary of travellers and even more wary of the strangers that arrived daily and even sometimes slept in the muddy streets.

She’ne’ar, wizard of the seventh order, arrived in town on the first Wednesday of the fifth month. He was following a small band of ragged people. His own scarlet robe was tattered. His dark, pointy hat had long since lost its shape in the daily rainstorms that plagued these lowlands. But he still had his staff of magical goldwood – and that counted for a lot in the world of wizards. He strode to the inn’s common room where room was at once made for him by the fire. He sat down and lit his pipe while he waited for his tankard of spiced ale to arrive. Though he stared into the fire, his ears did not miss one word of the conversations around him. It was not only humans that fled the war in the north. Talk among the locals and refugees were of people dying strangely in the night. Not the doing of nature, the poor folk seemed to have fought some kind of demon that only they could see. Something wrought by the Dark Lord of old, no doubt, sent south to place the free peoples in bondage. She’ne’ar sighed. He knew the beings’ true nature. He had found the shadows.

To lighten the mood one of the less sober gents began a rendition of Bring me another partridge or I’ll drink all your beer. It was after the fourth chorus that the wizard slipped away to the dark streets. It was nearing twelve o’clock. He took a small object from one of the pockets sown into his robe. One could call it a compass, though it did not show direction, but where the shadows lay. He wiped a strand of grey hair from his eyes and brushed against the burn scar he had sustained after his first clash with a skadu’sding – a shadow being.

The roads were dimly lit by moonlight and everywhere he could see figures moving stealthily or lying in a bundle under an eave. Here and there a fire had been lit and the faces crowding around the flames looked out at the dark with fear. Most seemed to scared to sleep. This had to be the village. The shadow beings were close; he could feel their taint. The Dark Lord had found a way to make them, and used them as agents in his armies. He never counted on being utterly defeated by the armies of his enemies. Those that had fought him never counted on his twisted creations still attacking them from the dark three hundred years later.

“Wys julself!” he said under his breath in the old tongue, hoping to lure them forth. But they must have found their prey. He felt a pulling sensation to his left and his old wound throbbed. He followed his heightened senses, making his way through the silver-lit dirt streets to the shanty houses of the poor. His aged hand clenched and unclenched around his goldwood staff. “Kom uit en wys julself!” he repeated and waited for their presence to call to him. To try and lure him to their darkness. He came to a small shack of a house.

The pain in his head flared and then died down as the skadu’sdinge found their target. More and more came to the house, leaving any other unwary person they had found to torture. They moved soundlessly, swiftly and no wall could keep them from entering where they had found prey. The wizard took up his staff and rent the old wooden door asunder. Splinters of wood billowed in a cloud of grey dust that covered the wizard in a thin film of dust.

He didn’t need to be able to see the creatures to see the dark magic reflections of the skadu’sdinge hovering above a golden haired boy barely fifteen years old. The boy was thrashing on the floor, his mouth opened to a scream that could not leave his throat. The rest of the family were left paralysed by the beings. Unable to move, barely able to breathe. All they could do was watch helplessly. The wizard strode into the room and stretched out his hands, his staff glowing in the darkness.

“Wyk! Wyk!” he shouted and light flared around him in a halo. “Ek beveel julle om te gaan van hierdie huis en hierdie seun! Gaan nou!” The skadu’sdinge stopped and turned to the wizard. Their leader took on the shape of a grey man and floated towards the wizard. He seemed to grin. At the same moment the skadu’sding stretched out his hand the wizard sent out a blast of magic and even as he felt the life ebbing from him, he heard the dying screams of the shadow’s spawn.

She’ne’ar fell to the floor utterly spent. His staff was broken and his head was throbbing. He motioned for the boy to come to him. In the moonlight from the road he could see the boy’s strong face and the wisdom and kindness his eyes contained. He took the signet ring from his right hand. At last he had found the One. The one that would fulfil the prophecy. He smiled through the pain and repeated the old words of the prophecy: “Een sal kom wat nie ‘n skadu dra nie. Een sal kom wat altyd in die son sal loop. Een sal kom wat die noorde sal bevry.”

The boy frowned and asked him what he was saying. It was difficult to concentrate on the boy’s voice. The boy pressed a cold cloth against his brow and it numbed some of the pain.

“You’re the One,” he said and gasped for his next breath. The shadows had at last been too much even for a wizard as strong as him to fight. “You’re the one that’s going to save the north.”

How strange, She’ne’ar thought. The moonlight seemed to fade from his sight, but the boy’s face seemed lit by the sun as he looked down at him. He felt the boy’s hand on his brow and heard him saying: “Rus in vrede, my vriend. Hê rus op jou nuwe pad.” Then the darkness came for a moment before being replaced by a blinding white light. He had done what he set out to do so many years ago. And now, at last, he could rest.

http://artmotive.com/dl-wizard-sketch.jpg