One year earlier
A woman burst into the clearing, her short hair matted and tangled. She stood to catch her breath, blood flowing from a shallow cut in her arm. As she took stock of her surroundings, she became aware of the rifle that was levelled at her.
"Well, well, what have we here? Runaway thief, are you? Don't move, if you know what's healthy for you." Said the guard protecting the scientific expedition which had set up camp in the clearing.
"What are you doing, you fool? Can't you see she's unarmed and terrified? Stand down!" Ordered the head of the expedition, a young scientist who looked more like an athlete than one of the foremost minds of his generation.
"You don't give me orders, egghead. Back off!" Snarled the guard.
"I'm the one paying you, and I'm ordering you to stand down. If you have a problem, give me back the money and leave. Understood?" The scientist demanded, locking his intense gaze onto the guard's face. After a moment, the guard's eyes slid away and he lowered his weapon.
"Your funeral..." He muttered into his beard. Ignoring him, the young man strode forward, smiling reassuringly.
"It's okay. We won't hurt you. What happened? You look scared half to death." He said in a calm, soothing voice.
"Don't come closer!" The woman said, her voice edged in hysteria.
"Okay then, I'll just stay over here," he said, sitting on the grass. "My name's George, by the way. I'm the leading researcher for a new kind of tracking technology, used to study how animals migrate and hunt. What's your name?" He carried on speaking in that quiet, level tone, as if to calm a wild animal.
"Why do you have guards and guns? You're lying! You work for him!" She was entering a blind panic, and George decided to try a different tack.
"Look, Miss... You're hurt, and it's cold out. It'll be dark soon, too. Now, I can give you medical help, warm food and a safe place to sleep tonight. I don't know who you think I work for, but I promise we're just doing some field research here. Come with me, and we'll get you looked after. How does that sound?" He asked, smiling slightly, with genuine warmth and kindness in his intense brown eyes. As he spoke, he saw some of the tension and fear recede from her body, to be replaced by weariness.
"Name's... Abigail." She said, swaying with exhaustion and blood loss. George sprang up and caught her as she fell, cradling her slim figure in his arms.
"Well, Abigail, let's get the medics to have a look at you, shall we?" He said, carrying her to the field medic tent.
Tuesday 7 July 2015
Monday 25 May 2015
Prologue - Misfortune
Present day
The misting rain chilled the pall bearers as they carried their sad load forward, the sealed casket a testament to its owner's violent death. A woman stood near the empty grave, the cascade of copper hair down her shoulders in stark contrast to her funerary black dress and the greyness in the sky. As well wishers spoke to her, tears carried on streaming from those breathtaking green eyes, a colour only one person in a million was born with. In the background, a man in somber grey clothing watched her intently, his arm cradled in a sling.
The misting rain chilled the pall bearers as they carried their sad load forward, the sealed casket a testament to its owner's violent death. A woman stood near the empty grave, the cascade of copper hair down her shoulders in stark contrast to her funerary black dress and the greyness in the sky. As well wishers spoke to her, tears carried on streaming from those breathtaking green eyes, a colour only one person in a million was born with. In the background, a man in somber grey clothing watched her intently, his arm cradled in a sling.
New Story in the pipelines!
Hey everyone,
Life's been a bit hectic lately, what with moving and studying and trying to find my feet again (apparently they're still attached to my legs, so I'm fine there). Anyway, that having been said, I'm currently working on a new short story. It was going to be entitled "Cunning", but "Misfortune" seems to be more appropriate, as I look at the content.
Anyway, there are lots of twists and turns, and a slight bit of romance. I hope this keeps you all interested, and I'll get to posting the first chapter right away!
Yours in writing,
Rook.
Life's been a bit hectic lately, what with moving and studying and trying to find my feet again (apparently they're still attached to my legs, so I'm fine there). Anyway, that having been said, I'm currently working on a new short story. It was going to be entitled "Cunning", but "Misfortune" seems to be more appropriate, as I look at the content.
Anyway, there are lots of twists and turns, and a slight bit of romance. I hope this keeps you all interested, and I'll get to posting the first chapter right away!
Yours in writing,
Rook.
Monday 4 May 2015
Vengeance - Chapter 6
"You will end this tale at once, raconteur." Demanded the king.
"What for, sire? Have you no wish for the people to learn the tale of how their fine king came to have the throne?" Asked the raconteur with a vicious smile.
"Guards! Seize that man!" Ordered the king, fear and fury turning him pale.
"Quint, stop him please." Said the raconteur, prompting a figure to drop from the shadows of the rafters to land behind the king.
"My pleasure, master James." Said Quint, pressing a dagger to the king's throat. "Call off the guards, dukey." Hissed Quint into his ear.
"Guards! Hold!" Said the king, in a voice high with fear.
"Thank you kindly." Quipped Jim with a mocking bow. "Tom, if you would be so kind as to block the entrances?" He asked.
"Sure thing, Jim." Said Tom, detaching himself from the crowd and barring the doors.
"This man, your king, was once a cruel tyrant responsible for the deaths of thousands across what was once his dukedom, before he was exiled by the previous king. He paid tribes of bush dwellers to terrorise the city folk, and is responsible for the first recorded death in the resistance against him on the day we were rescued by Quint... The death of a good leader and greater friend. Matt -" Jim was interrupted by the clash of a tomahawk colliding with a shield as Dart protected his back, turned to the king as he addressed the crowd.
"Wrong move, madman. It was your last as king." Said Quint icily, only to feel himself pulled backwards by a massive hand on his shoulder. "What? Who are -" he began, before being flung across the room to land against the far wall and collapse in a heap on the floor.
"My lad, I don't want to hurt you. Step outside, walk away, and we'll forget all this happened." Said the newcomer, a massively built man wearing a pothelm and full plate armour. The broadaxe slung across the man's back stirred painful memories in Jim's mind.
"It can't be..." He whispered. "You're dead. We saw you die!"
"Guess I was just unlucky enough to live, wasn't I?" Said Matt.
"Not for much longer." Said Dart, drawing his sword. "You betrayed the cause for which you wore the sigil so many years ago. Disloyalty of that kind warrants death."
"I know those laws as well as you, Joseph Tinley. I helped write them, after all." The onlookers muttered in surprise at hearing the mysterious Dart being identified as the high leader of the resistance.
"Draw, so I can cut you down like a man, Matt!"
"Well now, " said Matt, unlimbering his axe and holding it ready, "let's have at you." The moment Matt said the last word, Dart was racing towards him to deliver a massive jump strike aimed at the junction point in his armour by his neck. Seeing what was coming, Matt caught the blow on the head of his axe. Dart, keeping Matt on the back foot, launched a series of furious attacks until finally, a blow found its mark with a dull crunch, and Matt fell to his knees. With a horrible sense of Déjà vu, Jim ran to his side and ignored the cries of his companions to back away. "Matt," he said, "why?"
"Why what, lad? Ain't much to tell. Bush folk were in the pay of the duke, and I found out later they used a paralysing poison on their arrows. It slowed my heart and stopped the bleeding. When I came to, I had one of two choices: Serve, or be tortured. Held out as long as I could, but the longing for fresh air, clean water and a pain free existence became too great. Even now..." Said Matt, gripping Jim's shoulder, "even now, the thought of ensuring my family's safety compels me." As he spoke, Matt drew a dagger from his belt and drove it into Jim's heart, and the heart of the rebellion at the same time. Weeping, Matt pulled Jim into an embrace as Tom sprang forward to finish what Dart had begun, before turning his blade on all nearby in his grief, guilty and innocent alike. As the hall erupted into chaos and people fled through doors they had broken down, the king stood in the center of the hall and wept over the corpses of his brother and nephew, realising that power often brings regret and loneliness rather than fulfillment.
"What for, sire? Have you no wish for the people to learn the tale of how their fine king came to have the throne?" Asked the raconteur with a vicious smile.
"Guards! Seize that man!" Ordered the king, fear and fury turning him pale.
"Quint, stop him please." Said the raconteur, prompting a figure to drop from the shadows of the rafters to land behind the king.
"My pleasure, master James." Said Quint, pressing a dagger to the king's throat. "Call off the guards, dukey." Hissed Quint into his ear.
"Guards! Hold!" Said the king, in a voice high with fear.
"Thank you kindly." Quipped Jim with a mocking bow. "Tom, if you would be so kind as to block the entrances?" He asked.
"Sure thing, Jim." Said Tom, detaching himself from the crowd and barring the doors.
"This man, your king, was once a cruel tyrant responsible for the deaths of thousands across what was once his dukedom, before he was exiled by the previous king. He paid tribes of bush dwellers to terrorise the city folk, and is responsible for the first recorded death in the resistance against him on the day we were rescued by Quint... The death of a good leader and greater friend. Matt -" Jim was interrupted by the clash of a tomahawk colliding with a shield as Dart protected his back, turned to the king as he addressed the crowd.
"Wrong move, madman. It was your last as king." Said Quint icily, only to feel himself pulled backwards by a massive hand on his shoulder. "What? Who are -" he began, before being flung across the room to land against the far wall and collapse in a heap on the floor.
"My lad, I don't want to hurt you. Step outside, walk away, and we'll forget all this happened." Said the newcomer, a massively built man wearing a pothelm and full plate armour. The broadaxe slung across the man's back stirred painful memories in Jim's mind.
"It can't be..." He whispered. "You're dead. We saw you die!"
"Guess I was just unlucky enough to live, wasn't I?" Said Matt.
"Not for much longer." Said Dart, drawing his sword. "You betrayed the cause for which you wore the sigil so many years ago. Disloyalty of that kind warrants death."
"I know those laws as well as you, Joseph Tinley. I helped write them, after all." The onlookers muttered in surprise at hearing the mysterious Dart being identified as the high leader of the resistance.
"Draw, so I can cut you down like a man, Matt!"
"Well now, " said Matt, unlimbering his axe and holding it ready, "let's have at you." The moment Matt said the last word, Dart was racing towards him to deliver a massive jump strike aimed at the junction point in his armour by his neck. Seeing what was coming, Matt caught the blow on the head of his axe. Dart, keeping Matt on the back foot, launched a series of furious attacks until finally, a blow found its mark with a dull crunch, and Matt fell to his knees. With a horrible sense of Déjà vu, Jim ran to his side and ignored the cries of his companions to back away. "Matt," he said, "why?"
"Why what, lad? Ain't much to tell. Bush folk were in the pay of the duke, and I found out later they used a paralysing poison on their arrows. It slowed my heart and stopped the bleeding. When I came to, I had one of two choices: Serve, or be tortured. Held out as long as I could, but the longing for fresh air, clean water and a pain free existence became too great. Even now..." Said Matt, gripping Jim's shoulder, "even now, the thought of ensuring my family's safety compels me." As he spoke, Matt drew a dagger from his belt and drove it into Jim's heart, and the heart of the rebellion at the same time. Weeping, Matt pulled Jim into an embrace as Tom sprang forward to finish what Dart had begun, before turning his blade on all nearby in his grief, guilty and innocent alike. As the hall erupted into chaos and people fled through doors they had broken down, the king stood in the center of the hall and wept over the corpses of his brother and nephew, realising that power often brings regret and loneliness rather than fulfillment.
******
And so, we've reached the end of Jim's tale. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you have any ideas for future stories, or just drop me a line if you want to tell me what you thought of the story.
Happy reading!
Rook
Sunday 3 May 2015
Vengeance: Chapter 5
"My lord, the people have gotten wind of the renegade's challenge, and they grow restless. I suggest my lord provides a response." said the duke's chief advisor.
"Bow to a rebel's demands?" asked the duke incredulously. "Why on Earth would I want to do that?"
"My lord, the people are a fickle beast. We need their willing support if we are to be successful in our... endeavours."
"Huh... Our endeavours, he says." Thought the duke to himself. "What does this halfwit know about my plans?" To the advisor, he said: "Have the criers announce that I will be making a speech in upper lake district at four of the clock today. Inform the guards that any residents who don't attend are to be arrested."
"But, my lord..." Began the advisor.
"One more word, and I will have you strung up for being a rebel sympathiser. Now GO!" Roared the duke in a fury. Just then, the captain of the guard burst into the duke's study.
"Milord, we've found evidence of the rebels using that house as an outpost." he panted. The duke faced him, narrowing his eyes and licking his lips in anticipation.
"Carry on. Where is this evidence you speak of?"
"Milord, about four or five hours by the water clock after you left, some people who appeared to be upper nobility approached the scene, and began searching around for the culprits. Seeing our boot prints, they quickly ran inside. After a few moments, they emerged with large packs on their backs, dressed as travelling merchants. I informed a detachment of the watch, and we apprehended two of the men after incriminating documents were found among their baggage. They await milord's attention in the torture chamber."
"Excellent." Replied the duke with a wolfish smile.
"Bow to a rebel's demands?" asked the duke incredulously. "Why on Earth would I want to do that?"
"My lord, the people are a fickle beast. We need their willing support if we are to be successful in our... endeavours."
"Huh... Our endeavours, he says." Thought the duke to himself. "What does this halfwit know about my plans?" To the advisor, he said: "Have the criers announce that I will be making a speech in upper lake district at four of the clock today. Inform the guards that any residents who don't attend are to be arrested."
"But, my lord..." Began the advisor.
"One more word, and I will have you strung up for being a rebel sympathiser. Now GO!" Roared the duke in a fury. Just then, the captain of the guard burst into the duke's study.
"Milord, we've found evidence of the rebels using that house as an outpost." he panted. The duke faced him, narrowing his eyes and licking his lips in anticipation.
"Carry on. Where is this evidence you speak of?"
"Milord, about four or five hours by the water clock after you left, some people who appeared to be upper nobility approached the scene, and began searching around for the culprits. Seeing our boot prints, they quickly ran inside. After a few moments, they emerged with large packs on their backs, dressed as travelling merchants. I informed a detachment of the watch, and we apprehended two of the men after incriminating documents were found among their baggage. They await milord's attention in the torture chamber."
"Excellent." Replied the duke with a wolfish smile.
******
The duke stood in the torture chamber, taking in the two slumped figures in the center of the room, one still breathing and the other ominously still.
"Who was responsible for searching the prisoners?" He asked quietly, eyeing the small poisoned blade that had been taken out of the dead prisoner's side.
"Please, milord, don't hurt me. That always used to be Johnson's job." Whimpered an underfed man from a bloodied mouth filled with newly broken teeth, testament to the duke's displeasure.
"Who the hell is Johnson?" Swore the duke.
"He was the last gaoler, milord. I'm just an undergaoler who wasn't taught nothing." Said the unfortunate man. The duke walked over to the wall containing the torture implements, and chose a metal studded whip. "Please..." Began the undergaoler, before receiving a lash across his face, blood spraying from his ruined mouth with the force of the blow.
"Be thankful I'm a merciful man, wretch." Said the duke. "I'll only give you ten lashes for your incompetence, and a salt bath besides." The duke, however, was an unpredictable man rather than a merciful one, and carried on with the beating until his arm fell limp to his side, such was the depth of his anger. When he finally stopped, he stooped to listen to the half muttered prayers from the prisoner's mouth. To his surprise, he heard none, he only saw the man's eyes burning with a new desire: Revenge. The duke had no time to react as the man jerked his head up, catching him full in the face and breaking his nose. "You lying filth. I hope they hang you and let the crows eat your eyes!" Said the prisoner in fury.
"Your death will be slow, I promise that." Choked out the duke between the blood clogging his throat and the reflex tears streaming from his eyes.
"The only time your promises mean anything is when you plan on inflicting pain! You're a sadistic tyrant with a blatant disregard for anything but a pursuit for power!" Screamed out the prisoner, no longer caring for his life as he saw the duke advancing, clutching his nose with one hand and a flanged mace in the other. "Justice will prevail!" He managed to say, moments before his skull was crushed and the duke reeled away from his ruined corpse, cursing all the while.
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