I have attempted to write a couple of "books" before on our family websites and they haven't stayed around for long. but I am determined to get this one right.
Every time I write a new section of my book, I will post it here.
I will also set up a post on my home page that you can comment on my book.
Post 1
Prologue
As he rounded to face his deathly fate like a man, branches from old oak and willow trees crunched under his thick deer hide boots making a sickly cracking noise that sounded very much like the breaking of bones. He didn’t dare to make a move in fear of an even worse fate than the one slowly approaching him. Like a lion stalking through the wild grass, a man, all dressed in black, slowly raised a sword high above his head. Samoth swiftly dove to the right avoiding the surely falling blade. He couldn’t see his attacker now, but he ran, ran away from the enclosing hands of death and into the open arms of freedom.
But he was still being pursued; he could hear those heavy armored boots crashing through the underbrush. Slowly the noise became louder and closer, any second now and Samoth would be grabbed and forced to stop. He quickly turned right, around a tree and ran in another direction. His internal compass told him he was going away from his camp, taking his pursuer away from Samoth’s lifeline. The man’s sheer weight made it hard for him to turn as sharply as Samoth and the crashing grew quieter and quieter until it was not heard. But he knew better, he knew the man would still be following him and that he would catch up yet again. Samoth turned left, realizing that he was slowly turning back towards his camp, but he hesitated.
As he turned around he could feel the heavy, shallow breaths on his neck creating a wet sticky feeling on his skin. His pursuer had come to meet him again at last. But as
Samoth saw what was really behind him, his heart started pounding even harder. He knew there would be no escaping his doom this time.
Post 2
Chapter 1
“The family is a haven in a heartless world.” ~Attributed to Christopher Lasch
Shiela was speedily walking towards him calling his name, or in other words, telling him to get the fire going. Her skirt was billowing against her legs in the hot, harsh wind.
It was a hot, dry day in June with the Summer getting ready to fight its great battle against the cool, wet temperatures of Spring. Even though it was miles away, sand from Redna’s Desert was floating in the air, causing the inhabitants of Goldenhill to squint their eyes. The sand in the air wasn’t too thick yet but everyone knew that it would be no time at all until the real part of the storm hit.
The Howling would roll right in with it and all of the small children would close their small eyes and fists, wailing at the sound of it. The mothers would try to calm their them but it would be in vain.
There’s no time to think of that now. thought Samoth, he would be expected set a fire for his Mother and Father’s meal. He and Shiela would eat too of course but it was tradition that the parents would eat before their children did, and as they ate they would be served by the juveniles of their family.
Samoth turned back into the shabby cobblestone building, down the wooden hallway and into the room he called home. There was a thin sheet splitting the room into four smaller areas: his room, Shiela's room, his parent’s room, and the main room. Samoth turned to the small stone fireplace and the large, splintering pile of wood. As he marched of to set the fire, as he had been told, the wooden floorboards creaked under the unforgiving weight of he building. He placed the logs strategically in the pit as he had been taught by his father. Two across, two on top... Samoth repeated in his head. Shiela, his sister, walked in, holding herself upright and steady as if she deserved more than what she was given. But she was always like this because she was older than him, nearly 17. She was proud. The floorboards also creaked as she crossed the room, but it was a faint, peaceful, homely sound that Samoth enjoyed hearing. As she opened the cupboard to prepare the meal, sweet smells flowed into the room, giving Samoth a new strength to lift the heavy logs from the bottom of the pile.
Shiela pulled out the special knife with a flourish that was almost elegant. Her light brown hair fell over her face as she bent down to cut the vegetables. the whacking of the knife on the cutting board was a normal sound that was almost always present during the light hours of the day. Samoth liked the sound as it filled the awkward silence of the home. Of the six rooms in the cobblestone building, Samoth’s family owned one. They ate, slept, talked, worked, and did whatever they had to in this cramped room.
“How much longer?” asked Samoth’s mother breaking the vocal silence of the siblings. Her thin squeaky voice pierced into his mind like an axe through wood. the only option was to reply, or be punished under the harsh law of King Harold. “About 75 breaths,” replied Shiela’s soft, sweet voice.
Samoth always wondered how she could react so calmly with her mind ringing with the sound of their mother’s voice. It was a marvel to him, but he had to remember that he was the oddball of the family. Not in a huge way, but in small, simple ways such as these. “Good,” His mother said as she sat down on one of the simple wooden chairs around the table. She yawned, reasonably too, thought Samoth. She was the hardest worker in the family. Everyday she dug rows and rows of little tranches for the King’s food. She was allowed one break at lunch during the day until the allotted dinnertime or a storm hit. Today it was both Samoth was reminded as the howling started it’s relentless wailing that could drive a man mad.
As Samoth awoke from his thought he realized that his father had entered and was being served with his wife by Shiela. She never complained retorted Samoth in his mind as he got up to help her.
* * * * *
As always, after the whole family had eaten, they sat in front of the fire with the thin, shabby sheet laying on the ground. Samoth was studying his books trying to figure out which way was the best to go in his education for the rest of his life. There were, as many knew, seven schools, each as educational as the next. But each one taught a different Mag, Dark or Light. As soon as he turned 15 he would have that choice. The date of his birth was slowly approaching too, and as his mother said, it would be here before he knew it. Shiela had chosen Six of course, it was a light Mag. Most women were from the light section, although about one third of them were not. Men were about half and half as to which side to go. Samoth’s own father was from Four, the Mag of both Light and Dark. Not many went to Four, you had to be very responsible with Dark Mags. Samoth remembered when his father had told him about learning Dark Mag, “It scared me at first, because of the things you would do to your friends. When you practiced, they would purposefully partner you up with your friends. I hated it. You would do things you never imagined you would do,” He had said shakily.
Samoth picked up a new book glancing at the title although he wasn’t even thinking about his reading. his mind was far away thinking about the King and how he was so, so wrong.
Post 3 (Not Completed)
Chapter 2
“A good deal of tyranny goes by the name of protection.”
~ Crystal Eastman
Sheila ran screaming into the house, clamping her hand onto the bicep of her arm, cutting off the flow of blood that was already painting her arm and dress a sickly red color. As the blood dripped to the floor, Samoth’s mother screamed and jumped up to help her. Arms glowing with the Colour of Light Magic, the pail skin sealed itself back up to make a perfect arm. But before either of them could say anything, the door fell to the ground as it was ripped from its hinges by a battalion of the King’s men. Another earsplitting scream pierced the air as both his mother and his sister saw the dripping red blade that had sliced Shiela’s arm held out by the leader of the pack. They ran in, kicking over the small wooden table and chairs, two of them grabbed the girls and the other three closed in on Samoth and his father. Before they could take hold of them, the first man fell to the floor, yelling because of the dark cloud of torture closing on his twitching body. Samoth could see his father’s arms turning black with the Colour of Dark Magik. Samoth knew that his father would not be able to see the other men jumping towards him because of his concentration on his Magik. Using his extent of basic knowledge on the Magik, Samoth closed his eyes and created a wall of fire around him and his father. The guards jumped back afraid of the black fire that Samoth had created. He opened his eyes to see the surprised looks on the faced of the two burly warriors at the intensity of the flames. Their eyes darted around the ring, looking for weaknesses for them to infiltrate. The girls were trying to not be grabbed by the strong men who had cornered them in the kitchen. Samoth tried to yell to them to run but found that he was weakened for using the Magik.
Keep working on this Brayden... good job!!!!!
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