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Broken World - a fantasy fic
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Broken World - a fantasy fic |
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the quell Member
since 2006-07-19
Posts 144Liverpool, UK 
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A/N - Just wondering what people think of this fic. It's not finished, but I could post some more if anyone wants me to Chapter 1 - Child of Destruction It began at night - night as we knew it. Though never, in all its history, had the argent city felt the golden caress of dawn. The sun was a matter of legend, and in my heart I doubted that such a thing could exist. The sky was a pure sheet of ebony, stark and unquestionable in its infinity. Whether it mourned the searing ball of fire which once traversed it’s raven depths, none could say. The loremasters were wont to tell us of distant times, before the radiance was stolen from our sky, before the green lands lay beneath the waves, before Hamana descended from the unearthly darkness above to deliver us from death. Our city, Eyia, we sculpted of ice. Like a pure wave of white porcelain it looked, jutting out from the flailing ocean beneath. Pale, spiraling towers, high and slender, skimming the roof of uncompromising blackness. The sound of the salty waves, breaking upon cold, jagged shores would seep into my dreams, and always my eyes were drawn to the Sea. Upon that dark night, I watched the swelling tide gleam, painted russet by the lights which adorn all of Eyia. Yet my gaze suddenly rose to the heavens, for a voice seemed to emanate from the gloom, begging me to heed it. Had I then known what I learned soon after, I would not have so readily dismissed it. I would not have turned away, believing that remote voice to be a figment of my rather poor imagination. Seldom did my eyes stray to the darkness above - it made me feel so alone, so helpless. It forced me to recall the truth - that I live in a broken world. Our downfall began with War. The years of peace were long and beautiful, it is said, though of harmony there is ever little to report. Of the arduous, bitter conflict between my people and the creatures of darkness, the Haknau, much has been recorded. Yet I know not the tale in its entirety. The Haknau emerged from the heavens - which were embellished still by the jewels of day and night. We had done them no injury, and extended the hand of friendship to them upon their arrival in our land. Yet they saw fit to attack, and after many years of fruitless battle, we were worsted. The dark Haknau raised the ocean against us, and the lands upon which we had dwelt and prospered were submerged by the ruinous waves. The fair towers of stone, the fields we had once tilled, and the green, teeming forests we had roamed became mere shadows of memory. By some devilry that we have yet to understand, the sky was stained black, and the lights of heaven were veiled, or lost. Bereft of guidance or sight, the ships which carried the last survivors drifted forlorn upon the surging darkness, hope slowly ebbing from their hearts. We would have perished, but for the grace and mercy of Hamana - our deity. As the wings of darkness were unfurled amid the sky, she fell to the earth to aid us in our need, and a smooth mass of ice reared up in chill splendour from the ocean to greet her. With her almighty power, she bore one ship away from the seething tempest, and spared the lives of my ancestors. Hamana was a beacon of light, her fiery eyes cutting through the shadow like blades of radiance. The first settlers fell to their knees before her, seeing that she was mighty and fair beyond their thought or comprehension. Yet she showed them kindness, and taught them the art of kindling True Fire - a flame which burns without the aid of wood, and sends forth no heat, only a pure, steady light. There was no question that we owed her our lives. And so we formed Eyia, the argent city, which in the ancient tongue remembered only by the elders, translates as Child of Destruction. In ashen glory it rose from the cold waters, fair and vivid as a crystallised vision, brought to life by the sacred magic coursing through its unseen veins. Yet none can forget that our home is the product of conflict, the rightful land of a people diminished by war and weakness. We lacked the strength to defeat our dark enemies, and beneath a defiled sky we breathed the cloying air of defeat. Thus was our bittersweet fate wrought. Ere I begin my tale, I must first tell you of Issla - the land upon which Eyia was formed. In the beginning, it was an immense pillar of untouched ice, so tall and mighty that it seemed to uphold the very darkness which loomed at its peak. Under the guidance of Hamana, my ancestors began the task of sculpting Eyia, in the Southernmost region of Issla. To the North were the Kumna, the untamed lands where some of our people dwelt in solitude, for reasons unknown to us. Of the citizens of Eyia, only the huntsmen were permitted to journey thus far from their homes, for the last of the wild creatures roamed those lands. Eyia was vast, and sprawled across much of Issla, ever expanding as the generations passed. At the heart of the city was the tower of Hamana, glacial white and shimmering, crowned with an argent flame. It rose gracefully into the darkness, loftier than all other towers, which gently diminished in height as they drew closer to the periphery. Thus the tower of Hamana resembled the crest of an almighty wave, the white tide of ice about it gradually sinking to the ground. Only those of high standing dwelt in the tall towers, and ones such as myself could not set foot upon the sacred earth which encompassed the magnificent palace of Hamana, unless it was at Her bidding. Neither was I permitted to visit the edge of the city, where stood the homesteads of the poor - this was no Law of the land, simply the bidding of my father. Nevertheless I would frequently disregard this rule, for my love of the Sea. Most days, I would sit by the harbour alone. If I were to close my eyes, I could almost feel the shifting of the currents singing through my blood. And beneath the clear, sighing waves, I beheld my few stolen glimpses of green life growing. For where the radiance of the True Fire spilled from the city, settling lightly upon the turbulent surface of the ocean, verdant growth would flourish upon it's bed. The delicate, ice-carven fishing boats always reminded me of the Legend of Sethnar - a Lord of our people in ages past, and the first of all the settlers of Eyia to rebel against Hamana. With venomous lies he had tried to turn the people against their leader, yet his treachery was soon discovered. Sethnar was sent forth from Eyia upon an enchanted ship, drifting forever deeper into the crawling darkness, transcending the realm of death and penetrating the bleak emptiness beyond. Forever deathless, his tormented cries would echo darkly about him, shrouding him like a clinging mist, as he traversed the lonely, pathless realms where day and night mingle, and each breath is a world of agony. His ship was pale as bone, cold and spectral as the unearthly dreams of wraiths, comfortless in its blanched elegance. And thus did Eyia rid itself of evil. By the hand of the rebel, thou shalt hear me.' Shivering, I crumbled to my knees. That voice was solid as the cold, immovable ground upon which I knelt, and was loud and sonorous as thunder. Yet the folk nearby did not flinch or respond, neither did they heed me as I dropped to the cold floor. The voice fell with me, smiting me like a bolt of white lightning. I raised my eyes to the heavens, from whence the sound had come, as though expecting to see a soul drifting above me, enmeshed in the gloom. Yet the blackness was absolute, unmarked. With tears I could not explain clouding my vision, I rose to my feet. I turned my back on the foaming waves, and made my way home. I tried to dispel the memory of the voice, though it's trembling echoes haunted me still. The sky had spoken to me, though I could not decipher the meaning of those strange words. By the hand of the rebel... I focused my gaze upon the scene which swept coldly before my eyes. The pale towers of Eyia seemed to hang like luminous threads from the slumberous roof of darkness. All the city was ahung with fragile lanterns, glistening like kindled jewels. The dim reddening of the lights showed that evening was draining into night. The immaculate streets blushed pink in the ruddy shimmer, yet my mind was far from the frozen world I knew so well. I had been told so many times that Eyia was beautiful - though to me, it was merely home. I knew no other life, and had beheld no other lands. I had no standard of comparison, and with nothing loathsome in the world, there can be no beauty. |
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| © Copyright 2006 Rachel Isaacs - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Wonderful beginning to what could easily be a piece of epic fantasy fiction. I'm quite partial to fantasy and this is a great beginning. A little rough on some corners, but good. Visually, I would break this up a little so that it is easier to read. A little white space is a good thing. There are a few areas where the language could use a little massaging also. quote: I think you mean bested here. Worsted does not quite mean what you are looking for here. quote: None of those commas are necessary in that sentence. They are the most easy to abuse punctuation. There are a few other areas that could be reviewed like that. Over all this is a great work. I love how you have already set up a bit of a mythology (A very cool one! A city of ice in the ocean? SWEET!) and made it seem more than tacked on "made up" words. I would really like to see other chapters out of this story! Please don't be shy with them. "I have harnessed the shadows that stride from world to world to sow death and madness..." - H.P. Lovecraft |
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the quell Member
since 2006-07-19
Posts 144Liverpool, UK |
Dusk Treader - I'm immensely grateful for the feedback!! I've taken the criticisms into consideration (I've often been noted for my comma abuse). Here's another section: ***** The wind whipped my yellow hair across my face, as I plodded upon my homeward path with all the weary diligence I could muster. I had no particular desire to return home, yet no obvious alternative lay before me. One choice alone is given to the folk of Eyia - to obey, or to disobey. In order to sustain our lives, to scrape a meagre existence from our fallen world, each had to play their part. If an individual chose to reject his rightful place in the world, and spurn his community and deity, his foolish pride would be rewarded with exile, and, subsequently, death. Rebels were not to be tolerated in Eyia, or the fragile system by which we survived would crumble to dust, and all life would fail. What befell those wretched few who dwelt in Kumna, the wild Northlands, I did not wish to consider. When a citizen of Eyia came of Age, they were required to swear allegiance to their community, and accept with due humility the occupation allocated to them, which would determine the standard of their living from then on. Two seasons ago, my brother, Johun, had sworn the Vow, and already his training as a Fire-Master had begun - much to my father's approval, for it is a highly prestigious occupation. He would soon be deep in the Lore of True Fire. Someday he would dwell in a high, white tower, in clear sight of the Palace of Hamana, honoured above all save the Council, and Hamana herself. At this time, my own fate was uncertain, and this quietly disturbed me. It was as I would imagine sailing across a deep, dangerous ocean, with hidden perils lurking beneath the mysterious waves, and an unseen destination looming darkly before me. As far back as I can remember, I have been afraid. And though I am now grown, that fear is ever beside me. Soon enough, I myself would take the Vow. This in itself I did not find terrifying. It was the unforeseen years, stretching like a cold river before me, filled with trials I could scarcely imagine, which froze my blood with terror. As a woman, I would not be expected to work as the men did, though raising a family is as trying a task as any, or so I believe. I barely knew my own mother, for she was taken from us. To my shame, a tear almost formed in my eye as I recalled the day of her departure. Time has sullied my memory somewhat, though clearly do I see her wan face before me, as she made her way to Hamana. For thus do all, when their time is come. None can refuse the summons of Nura - He who rules Tehul, the realm of the Afterlife. Hamana and Nura, though separate beings, are as One in thought and mind. When a citizen is summoned they are brought before Hamana, who opens the glimmering door to Tehul before them, where they shall be rewarded for their lifelong obedience and virtue. And therefore the last living sight of each soul of Eyia shall be filled with the divine splendour of Hamana. Thus have the Loremasters taught me, from the very day of my birth. *** The house was cold - even more so than usual. My thick fur cloak could not keep the chill from settling like a layer of snow upon my bones. A bitter wind appeared to seep through the spacious window in the hall, for it was composed merely of a thin slab of translucent ice. The walls were opaque and immaculate, encapsulating me in their vacant embrace. I was accustomed to the absence of colour, the oblivious white, stifling any trace of emotion which dared to challenge it's cold solemnity. Yet I found the drained blankness somewhat thought-provoking - as though it burned with unseen shades and hues, subtle implications which defied my sight with their abstract complexity. I made my way to the parlour, my heels clicking dully against the impeccably flat floor. I halted abruptly upon the threshhold of the humble room. I know not why I was startled to see Johun, my brother, kneeling and huddled upon the floor, deep in concentration. Awoken from my own hazy thoughts, I gazed at him curiously. His electric blue gaze was transfixed upon his own pale hand - eyes, the force of which few could endure. Upon his outstretched palm, there hovered a small globe of soft light, faint and delicate as a slender brush stroke. He gazed at the flame with grim determination, as though his very life depended upon the endurance of that pale spark. I cleared my throat noisily, unable to suppress my amusement at his shock. Johun's fist clamped shut, his long fingers asphyxiating the light and darkening his disgruntled face. I simply smiled, as he cast me a dark glare, folding his arms with a childishness that contradicted his supposed maturity. The passing seasons had changed Johun little - he remained a minor annoyance in my life, the same brother who had pulled my hair mercilessly, and vied with me for mother's attention. Well, on reflection, perhaps he had matured slightly - only slightly, mark you. 'You have not yet mastered the art of conjuring fire from air!' I exclaimed, as though appalled. 'Nor will I, if I am to be plagued with such disturbances.' He retorted, eyebrows arching fiercely as he pushed a wavy strand of golden hair from his eyes. 'Create the fire once more.' I crept closer, and knelt opposite him expectantly. The Fire-Masters had always fascinated me, though in the past I had caught only fleeting glimpses of them. Here was a fine opportunity to satisfy my curiosity, though it could not be denied that Johun was the most inept Fire-Master I had ever encountered. I observed him engage in an internal struggle, as his reluctance to do the bidding of his audacious young sister battled with his desire to exhibit his (arguably feeble) talents. 'Please?' I sighed, displaying my most imploring gaze. 'Be quiet, Caryama.' He muttered, stretching out his palm once more, and resuming his vaguely disturbing concentration. I shuffled closer, and such was my quiet anticipation that I chose to ignore his gratuitous use of my full name. He knew I despised it. Johun whispered inaudible words upon his empty hand, as though casting a wispy spell. His secret chants breathed faint life into the air, until it gave birth to the diminutive flame. It flickered delicately - a thing of beauty, if not of great strength, ethereal and light as a fleeting drop of ocean spray. Yet the small beam began to grow and gather it's steady light until it was easily as bright as the lanterns which adorned the towers of Eyia. And it's radiance waxed still further, until it began to pain my eyes. 'Johun! Stop!' I cried. He was breaking the rules - such incandescent light was not permitted in our city, and by the bidding of Hamana, all of Eyia was draped ever in shimmering half-light. Yet the light continued to flourish and expand, until finally, it burst into dancing flame. I had heard of such things: a wild, hot fire, which flickered and reared upwards in burning tongues of ferocity, though none had conjured it since the birth of Issla. In comparison, the True Fire, as we named it, could barely be described as flame at all - it's steady glow wavered not, only dimming at the will of it's Master, and it radiated no heat. In my life I had neither known, nor fully understood, the concept of warmth, though I felt it now. Like a fierce caress upon my face, the vibrant, pirouetting fingers pulling me closer to it's hypnotic glory. Only for a matter of seconds did the fire endure, and as it abruptly died, the world became a dark blur, wheeling like a tempest about me. And I was cast suddenly into echoing blackness. The frozen floor upon which I lay seemed to clasp me tight, constricting about my limbs like cold, twisting fingers. Yet the cold, tomblike stasis was accompanied by the contradictory sensation of falling, plummeting uncontrollably into an abyss of loss and darkness. Perhaps it was merely my spirit plunging into shadow, while my vacant body lay prone upon the floor. My eyes were open, though I was either submerged in blackness or rendered blind. It was then that it returned - the Voice. It rent me with its force, a power I could scarcely comprehend pouring through it's resounding words. 'Hearken to me, girl! For only I can save thee now.' I tried to call, tried to cry out. Questions crowded my mind unbearably, yet I could not utter them. I was frozen. 'The bell of the Raven shall toll for thee soon enough! Yet thou art mightier than they dare imagine. Forsake the dark web of treachery amid which thou hast become enmeshed - seek the DreamWeaver. He alone can guide you. She who haunts the serpent's vale shall lead thee to Him. Heed not the words of the turnskin - no longer shall you falter in the darkness. I give thee light...' Radiance poured through my mind, dazzling my senses in its vivid deluge. The Voice faded, and the darkness became a hollow background adorned by glistening splendour - pure, flickering fire, veined with beads of kindled silver. Then I opened my eyes. All was as it had been ere I fell. The faint glow of the True Fire poured in through the window, yet the room was dark, for light could only permeate the windows in dull, bleary clouds. Johun was kneeling beside me, shaking my arm, and I believe he was calling my name, yet until that moment the echoes of the Voice had been too strong to notice it. His anxious cries at last filtered through the mist of confusion. 'All is well.' I said quietly, suspecting that my voice belied me. 'Are you not hurt?' He demanded. I shook my head. For a time I sat in silence, and my gaze dropped to the floor. It was then that I caught sight of his hand. His palm was burned, and the skin of his fingers was red and inflamed. It did not appear to be a deadly wound, yet my heart took a sudden lurch of fear as intuition flooded my mind. The initial words the Voice had uttered rose fresh from the darkness: 'By the hand of the Rebel, thou shalt hear me...' |
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