A work in progress, will post more later. Comments and criticism(s) always welcome.
*****
The air was thick with moisture, this close to the base of the roaring Waterfall. The water foamed and churned, beaten to a near frenzy after its fall from the immense height onto the massive outcropping of rock, great slabs of dark granite worn smooth by the ages, at the base of the Waterfall. A steady breeze caught the air-borne spray, sending hazy clouds rolling downstream to shroud the narrow riverside path in fog.
She clung to the dense vegetation that sprouted on the river bank, her hands white-knuckled as they desperately pulled against the raging river’s motion. Another shoulder-wrenching pull brought her legs up from the water, her black and silver traced boots clawing at the soft, muddy earth of the river bank. Finding purchase at last, she ducked into a nearby thicket and crouched to hide in the shadows, her knees pulled to her chest as she struggled not to shiver. The river’s cold water had soaked the black and thread-of-silver skirt she wore, as well as the sleeves of her matching tunic. Her normally bright red hair was dull, saturated by the waterfall’s mist and her own nervous sweat, and the icy drops that crept down her neck made chills run down her spine.
A fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, she berated herself silently as she shifted her weight, putting out a hand to gently pull at the thick mass of leafy branches that formed a solid wall about her, completely hiding the inside of the thicket from the sun’s gaze. From where she hid, the riverside path ran a scant meter away; stretching from where it emerged from the Forest of Mirrors to the right, the path lazily followed the gentle curve of the river bank to run up to and behind the Anghel Waterfall’s thundering curtain. Brushing her free hand through her sodden hair, the woman’s vivid green eyes glanced back and forth as she scanned the rolling hill beyond the far side of the path, where trees still cast their deep shadows across the coarse grass. Another gust of wind caused the leaves to dance for a moment, while the path and the hill beyond disappeared in a breeze driven mist.
It looks like I lost them. Her heart skipped a beat with hope. Ever so gently letting the branch loose, she eased back onto her heels, relaxing as best she could from her hiding spot. She tugged at the fingertips of her gloves, pulling them off to drape them across a nearby branch. Tipping her head to one side as she wrung the excess water from her hair, the elegantly curved bow slung at her back caught her eye. I should have brought my sword instead, she thought, concentrating now on her skirt, folding and re-folding the fabric while squeezing, wringing as much moisture from the garment as she could. Breathing a bit of warmth on her fingers, she rubbed her palms together vigorously in an effort to relieve the numbing chill her hands had received from the cold river.
She paused, her hands rubbing slower, coming to a complete stop as she listened. Again, a faint rustle in the grass, and the sharp crack of breaking deadwood made her heartbeat swell with adrenaline. A faint chiming, like the great bells in a cathedral, drifted through the air. Sliding somewhat closer to the leafy wall of the thicket, she slowly parted a small patch of leaves, enough to see out and down the path to the east, where the Forest swallowed it in darkness. A new shadow, not one cast by a nearby tree, blocked what little sunlight filtered into the thicket, and the woman froze. One managed to track me. A low sniffing and snorting reached her ears over the muffled rumble of the Waterfall. Her eyes glanced around, trying to distinguish through the leafy canopy as to where, exactly, this creature was. Too close for an arrow! she grimaced, once again regretting her decision to leave her blade behind.
Slowly she reached over her shoulder, fumbling quietly as she struggled to pull her still soaked gloves back over her fingers. The shadow lumbered around the thicket as the unseen creature stomped and snuffled its wandering path toward the river. The woman breathed a few words – a minor incantation to calm her nerves – as she tried to turn, to keep the slowly diminishing light-blot in her sight. Her arms and legs burned from the strain of keeping perfectly still; her entire body wanted to tremble and shake from her soak in the icy river. She twisted again, shifting her weight around by rotating on the tips of her toes. Her heart leapt into her throat as her boots slipped in the mud, throwing her roughly against the inner branches of the thicket.
The staccato chorus of splintering branches sounded almost deafening in the utter silence she’d struggled to maintain. She lay there, half sprawled on the muddy ground, partially caught amid branches and leaves, her ears hopelessly searching for sounds from the creature. She could hear nothing, save the raging drumbeat of her pulse. Trying to reach her bow proved futile; it was just as entangled as she, if not more so. Useless, she shook her head, laughing on the inside at her own foolishness, Why didn’t I bring my sword? Much too close for that, besides. An angry hiss had begun to sound from beyond her cover.
The shadow lurched to the right, and loomed suddenly larger and darker upon the canopy of leaves above her head. Hastily she began reciting a spell, her fingers anxiously working, weaving the delicate Threads of magic required. She focused, steeling herself for the inevitable. Once again, she found herself wondering why, exactly, she was in this situation.
yeah that was a really good story so far, well writen.
I'm looking forword to seeing more!
And she loomed it just right time, like as if it was TV and went to a commrusal, or had to turn the page in a book. I want to know who jumped out of the dark, hehe.
Delicate music sounded faintly in the Temple’s long nave; the barely audible string music filtered in from some unseen crevice, no doubt where the musicians had managed to secret themselves, unseen by the clergy and laymen. Another swell in the nearby conversations obscured the music completely. Several priests and priestesses of both Einhasad and Eva where at their places, spaced evenly around the Temple’s main hall. Commoners and Adventurers both sought advice and guidance from the priests, though more often than not the commoners were directed to one of the lesser clergymen for assistance.
She knelt there, on the white marble floor, her head bowed in prayer. The marble, white with shades of dark grey and streaks of gold, was warm to the touch, a welcome benefit of the strong sunlight streaming in through the Temples high stained-glass windows. Her battered brown leather shoulder bag lay on the floor at her knees, alongside her long, curved bow and the quiver full of mithril arrows. An equally battered journal had been set atop the shoulder bag.
Breathing deep, she finished her prayers and relaxed both physically and mentally. Here in the Temple, the touch of the Sacred Arts was all about, like a golden glow that burned in the very air. She opened her eyes, squinting slightly in the bright sunlight. As she waited for her eyesight to re-adjust to the Temple’s interior, she ran her hands through her shimmering red hair and stretched. She stood, and bent to brush absentmindedly at her knees, before reaching down for her shoulder bag and quiver. Throwing the leather straps over her head, she paused to adjust the clasps, settling their weight comfortably across her chest. As she stooped to pick up her bow, a gentle voice spoke in her ear, “Sister Shadowhyn?”
“Yes, I am Shadowhyn,” the red-haired woman turned toward the speaker, her weapon momentarily forgotten on the floor. One of the robed elves stood before her; by the cut and coloring of her tunic and skirts, Shadowhyn could tell she was not a priestess. “Magister Anabel?” the Bishop bowed in greeting, “How may I help you?”
The Light Elf paused, looking down at the marble floor as she nervously worked her hands. After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat, “I… Well, you see… I need your help… with something.” Shadowhyn nodded as she crouched, picking up her bow as she listened. “You see…” the Magician struggled to find her words, running a finger through the long golden hair that fell about her shoulders, “there’s… a ring… that’s been in my family.” Magister Anabel sighed, “It was stolen more than a century ago, and I only recently received word of its whereabouts.” Shadowhyn nodded as she began scribbling notes in the notebook that she had rummaged from her shoulder bag.
“Do you want me to retrieve this ring for you?” the Bishop asked, gently closing her journal; Anabel nodded. “Where was it said to be?” Shadowhyn asked as she pulled a tattered, faded cloth map from her shoulder bag. The Magician took the map, unfolding it to show the lines and symbols depicting the Eastern ranges.
“My… informant… said it was within one of the caves behind the Anghel Waterfall,” Magister Anabel softly tapped a finger on the cloth map, “I’m not sure which cave, or how many there are…” Her voice trailed off, and hesitantly she nodded and refolded the map. “You must know, of course… that the ring is part of a dragon’s horde.” Shadowhyn looked at the Magister quizzically, “I’ve heard stories that tell how jealous dragons are of their treasure...” The Light Elf nodded slowly, “Yes, I do believe this dragon will prove those stories true.”
The Bishop thought for a moment before nodding, confident, “I’ll send for some of my guild members, and then we can--” “No!” The Magician put her hand on Shadowhyn’s arm, concern written on her face, “I… I can’t wait that long… The ring is… significant… magically speaking…” She looked at the floor, studying the marble tracings for a while before continuing, “I hope you can understand… I can’t risk the time necessary for your guild members to arrive.”
Shadowhyn nodded, a soft smile on her face, “Aye, it would take several days to get a party outfitted… I will help you.” A smile broke out across the Magician’s face as the Bishop continued to speak, “But why me? I am just curious why you sought my help.” Anabel faltered, her face coloring slightly, “I… well… For one, you looked as if you could leave immediately,” she motioned toward Shadowhyn’s bow and shoulder bag, “And while a hunter may be successful in slaying the dragon, with the Sacred Arts you could still the creature’s blood-lust long enough to find the ring and escape the cavern.” The red-haired woman nodded, “I understand.”
Magister Anabel looked upward to the stained-glass windows as she blinked glimmering tears away from her eyes, “I… I thought you would… Understand.”
my apologies; vacation interrupted my writing. Not that I regret my vacation, mind you... :D
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A reptilian shriek deafened her, the sound a terrible basso howl, and in a fury the creature tore loose the top of the thicket, showering the woman hidden within with splinters and leaves. In the first half-second, Shadowhyn could see the powerfully muscled body, the glistening green scales armoring the creatures’ entire form, the snarling hatred that was plainly visible in the Lizardman Matriarch’s eyes. Flecks of blood and saliva dripped from the creature’s fanged mouth as it – she – raised the rough hewn, brutally curved length of petrified wood that the Lizardman tribes used as weapons. In the next half-second, the red-haired woman blurted the final words of her recitation, and pushed her hands upward, palms out, toward her attacker. She clenched her eyes closed as tight as she could make them. A brilliant flash of light, tinged blue, piercing enough to shine through the woman’s hands, making skin translucent and bone cast shadows, blinded both the Bishop and the Matriarchal Lizard.
The Matriarch stumbled away from the golden disk the Bishop had summoned; the creature’s pained cry was a horrible sound. Shadowhyn scrambled away from the thicket, making her way toward the riverside path as she rubbed at her eyes, blinking away the great purple after-images that blotted her eyesight. She could tell when she had reached the pathway -- the hard-packed dirt offered far greater traction than the muddy riverbank had provided. After trotting a few more steps away from the thicket, the disheveled woman turned to glance over her shoulder.
The great Lizard crept cautiously around the thicket, sniffing at the soft breeze that ruffled the leaves and branches nearby. As it stepped further away from the thicket, the woman could see the damage her spell had caused. Blood mixed with the thick, oozing tears that dripped from the Matriarch’s ruined eyes; the whitened, sightless orbs twitching uselessly as the Lizard turned its head back and forth, testing the air. What have I done? the Bishop’s stomach twisted at the sight, the urge to Heal the creature was almost overpowering. I didn’t mean… I wouldn’t have-- The Matriarch sniffed once more before swiftly turning its head to face the woman. A snarl curled its lips as it began to advance, slow at first, but gaining speed with every step.
“Peace, Matriarch!” Shadowhyn called as she cast her spell, hoping to ease the creature’s hatred. She frowned when the swirling blue cloud barely slowed the Lizardman’s stride. Twenty meters away now, the Bishop swiftly pulled the Carnage Bow from where it hung at her back, and eased an arrow from her quiver. Fifteen meters… She tried her magic again, chanting the spell’s words louder, with an exacting pronunciation. “Peace, Lizardman!” She sighed as she watched the Matriarch shrug aside the cloud of suggestion. Nothing else you can do, Shadaera. The Bishop steadied her stance, bracing her feet a shoulder-width apart. Turning her body side-on to the advancing creature, she raised her bow, the long arrow braced against the notch in the side of the bow’s grip. Gritting her teeth, the woman pulled back on the bow-string, drawing the fletched end of the arrow up to her cheek. Ten meters… She exhaled, and prepared to loose the bolt. The bow-string--dampened by her plunge in the river, and by the over-abundance of moisture in the air--went slack, the tension disappearing as the cord succumbed to the elements.
She had only a few moments to stare in horror at her bow before having to leap away from the snarling Matriarch’s attack. She turned and ran.
*****
The going had been tough, the last few dozen meters. Running upstream, following the rocky, uneven path, with the raging Matriarch close behind, was bad enough. Approaching the Waterfall itself had increased the size and density of the clouds of fog, frequently blinding the Bishop as she tried to keep her pace. Her eyes were wide as they strained to see through the thick, roiling white clouds; gritting her teeth as she ran, Shadowhyn half expected to break her legs against a suddenly appearing rock, or fall into a mist-shrouded cleft. That would be a problem, she cringed, sweat beading on her forehead, adding to the moisture that soaked her hair and clothing once more.
The Lizardman was at a slight disadvantage, having lost its sight, but being able to track the woman by scent was working in its favor. Shadowhyn cautiously jogged along the now-rocky trail, hopping from boulder to boulder, attempting to lose her pursuer. A gap appeared at her feet, and she stumbled forward, pitching forward against the rough pathway to bruise her arms, her booted feet striking rock after only a moment with enough force to rattle her teeth. She groaned as she scrambled on, stamping her feet for a few steps as she tried to drive the tingling numbness away. If only that would--
A slightly muffled impact, marked by a bellowing howl, and punctuated by an oddly dull crunch, made a grim smile appear on the Bishop’s face. Poor creature, she shook her head as she pushed on, resisting the urge to turn back and aid the injured Matriarch. The Lizardman’s pained cries grew faint with every heartbeat, every footstep, until the horrid noise faded completely into the growling thunder of the Anghel Waterfall’s towering fluid cliffs. Abruptly the pathway curved to the left, a shear rock wall appearing before her through the swirling mists. Gasping for breath, the red-haired woman crouched in a shallow recess in the rock, and leaned back against the cold, damp stone to rest.
Magister Anabel said there should be a cave entrance nearby, Shadowhyn thought idly as she ran her fingers through her hair, squeezing out a fair amount of water, and shivered it ran down her neck and shoulders. She sighed as she straightened; her legs were still weak from her unexpected run. The Bishop groaned as she stretched, I don’t want to waste any more time, she quashed the impulse to find a safe camp for the night. Under the Waterfall’s impressive curtain, she could no longer clearly see the sun to gauge the remaining daylight. It hadn’t been all that much past noon when she had originally crossed the Lizardmen… Rubbing at her eyes with a gloved fist, she set her mind back to the task at hand. Thankfully, enough light filtered through the Waterfall, surprisingly amplified by the clouds of mist, for her to begin her search. Muttering a brief prayer of thanks for the mists--which she had, minutes before, cursed under her breath--Shadowhyn examined the rocky wall.
A good half hour had passed as she followed the pathway, scrutinizing the stone for any hint of an opening. Suppressing a flash of irritation, the Bishop glanced over her shoulder, and paused, her breath catching in her throat. Was that…? A brief, metallic glint from high up the rock wall caught her eye. Why would… no matter. Perhaps that’s a part of the horde. Walking to stand beneath where she had seen the glint, she surveyed the rocky height that stretched a good twenty paces above her head. Shadowhyn put one fist on her hip as she wiped at her forehead with the other hand, Why do I always agree to these… she sighed bitterly. Eyeing the rock once more, she caught sight of what looked to be a good set of hand- and foot-holds. Laughing under her breath, she gripped the first jutting piece of stone and pulled.
*****
Her hand felt around the bottom of the opening, the floor of the cave she hoped it was, searching for a hand-hold. A rather uneventful climb, accompanied by an almost continual prayer for safety, sanity, and the arbitrary attention of gravity, made suspicion bloom in the back of the Bishop’s mind. The hand- and foot-holds were too regular, too… convenient to be natural. What am I getting myself into? Her stomach had long since ceased its knotting, having accepted the fact that, one way or the other, she would soon find out.
Fingers finding a good lip in the rock, Shadowhyn pulled, hoisting her body up so that her chest and stomach where safely in the cave. It was a cave, she could see that now, that stretched far, far beyond where the dim sunlight could reach. She paused, panting for breath, before heaving her lower body up and into the tunnel’s entrance. Crawling weakly to the nearby wall, she curled up against the hard stone, and relaxed. Minutes passed as she laid still, resting her bone-weary arms and legs. Her eyes closed ever so briefly.
She sat up with a gasp, her eyes flying open. Are they open?! She looked around, panic clawing at her throat before she realized that the sun had set while she slept. Dimly now, she could see the black of the Waterfall’s underside, and the deeper black of the tunnel. Leaning back against the cave wall, she breathed deeply, controlling her heartbeat, calming herself. Wait… she tilted her head, listening. I thought a sound had woken m-- A whisper in the dark next to her ear made her begin to move, but the cold edge of a knife at her throat and a strong hand at the back of her neck held her still. Shadowhyn froze, still hearing, seeing nothing.