This little story of mine

[e.Blackstar]

This is the Prologue of my story, tenativley titled, Quest for the Moonstone. I have more, but this is just a little. after this story, I am going to write a story about a pack of Street urchins named Yaran, Inch(he has a gimp leg) Beetle, and Kaya. Anyway, enjoy!(I hope)
Prologue
Zar Decade, year 07, ninth moon, second day:
Forshen Kiama sat in his sanctum, poring over history books and mumbling to himself. Ancient texts were strewn about the room, and there were translating papers all around him. Suddenly he stood up, his hair in disarray and a fire in his eyes.
"This is it!" he shouted, loud enough to send the guards hurrying into the room, swords unsheathed and at the ready. He motioned to them to come to him. Apprehensively, they did so. He showed them a family tree of the royal houses, yellowed and stained with age.
"See, here, Belina Ku eloped to Knife Pass and my grandfather, Xirex Sarfa, assumed the kingship. But, according to this," he said, flipping pages, "it says that Belina came back and threw him down. Yet she had left, thereby relinquishing the kingdom. Albeit it was only for a week, but the principle still stands. This could be it! Elas cannot refuse us now! This is the key!"
Throwing down the book, he strode to the fine silver plate hanging on the wall and studied his reflection. He brushed his greasy black hair into order, straightened his tunic, put on a jerkin to cover the stains, and waked to the door. Stopping in the doorway, he raised an eyebrow and gestured sharply with his head. The guards rushed to his side and snapped to attention. Brushing a piece of lint off of his shoulder, he strode down the corridor, toward the temple situated within the palace walls.
The sanctuary was dark, and only the priest stood underneath a huge carving of the visages of Elas and Karelia, god and goddess of death. Forshen slammed the door behind him with a loud bang. The priest jumped, coming out of his trance with a start. He hurried to Forshen's side and bowed. Forshen waved him and the guards away, proceeding into a wardrobe-sized room beside the alter. He locked the door and turned his attentions to the small gold box that lay on a table. Opening it, Forshen chanted aloud.
"Alo neray sheta'r! Wejj an ard, pyre shatn ness qaar!" A mist-like shadow filled the room, dark and foreboding. A deep voice emanated from it.
"Why hast thou called me here, mortal? Hast thou found anything of value in thy search? Speak!"
Forshen fell to his knees, sweat pouring over his face as he stuttered, "I-I- Yes. I have a v-v-valid claim. Deja Marina's g-g-grandmother left the th-th-th-throne and eloped. M-m-my grand-f-father took it and then w-w-was thrown down b-b-b-b-by Belina K-k-ku. But h-h-he should have k-k-kept it. S-s-so I sh-should have been k-king." He finished and wiped off his forehead. The shadow appeared to think this over. Then it took the shape of Karelia, her flowing dress crimson and her eyes burning. She opened her palm and handed Forshen what lay there. Wiping her fingers disgustedly, she stated flatly, "There. Thou hast thy reward for thy service. Take now this weapon and destroy these craven that worship Aurora and her weak-minded minions. When thou hast set thyself up, thou shalt report to us. Do this and thou shalt be praised as a god. Go."
The shadow vanished, leaving Forshen to inspect his gift. It was a smooth black sphere, unmarked but full of magic. Forshen curled his fingers around it and dropped it into his jerkin pocket. Walking from the room, he called his guards and the priest to him and began to lay a plan for war.

[e.Blackstar]

Well? I need feedback!

MORE (Yes, I know, Ciryl bears an uncanny resemblance to a combo of Grima and Smeagol)

Zar Decade, year 08, second moon, twenty-eighth day:
Tyra Quen'ni sat on a hard, slat-backed chair in a cellar room in front of a stone table. Her back was to the stairs, and a door to her right was bolted tightly. She listened intently, but there was no sound save for the incessant clanking of the candle sconce as it swung in the draft that entered the iron-barred window. A black-clad figure slipped down the stairs without a footfall heard. He drew an ebony bow under his cloak and slipped an arrow to the string. Pulling the sinew back, the form lifted the bow and aimed for Tyra's back. The rustle of his cloak betrayed him, and Tyra whirled on the intruder. He lowered his bow and turned to run, but Tyra was quicker, leaping on him and pinning him to the ground. She pulled back his hood, revealing silver eyes set deep in a lean, dark-skinned face. She yanked a gold dagger from her belt and set it at his throat. The man held up his hands in surrender, and Tyra stood, allowing him to rise. As he did, his hand snaked to his crossbelt, where hung eight black and silver knives. With lightning speed, he withdrew one and sent it spinning into the wall barely an inch from Tyra's head. "You're dead," he announced gravely, and walked to retrieve his knife. Tyra applauded slightly, but her face had a determined look on it. Turning to address the man, Tyra could not keep the cynical tone from her voice.
"If I were a real victim, I might not have heard your cloak rustle, but don't take that chance. If I'd had guards, as many do, they would have heard it. Also, once I had seen you, why in Karelia's name did you try to run? You had time yet to stick that arrow in me and run. And, no, I am not dead. If I had been a genuine, I would not have allowed you to stand. I likely would have killed you on the spot. Now, try it again, and this time, let the thrill of the hunt take over and not the sometimes-cowardly Jajran Kilhook." Tyra arranged her chair to point toward the window as Jajran unbolted the door and slipped out. Tyra was about to lock the door when knock sounded from inside the far wall. Telling Jajran to follow her, Tyra put her ear to a plain wooden panel and whispered, "Who is it, grela?"
A muffled voice answered shakily in fluent Elvish. "It's your elrah rejjew, Tyra." Tyra grimaced at the prospect of the skulking fellow in her home, but she replied with a sharp, "How do I know it's you?" in Seshar, the common tongue.
A hissing laugh echoed in the confined tunnel behind the panel, but the voice called back softly, "Fine, here's the password, you suspicious quelli. Karelia, alon itloy ness. There's your blasted password, now let me in, will you?"
"Fine," Tyra said sullenly, and grabbed a tiny charm in the shape of a knife from her pocket. Inserting it into a miniscule keyhole, she smacked the wood next to it with the flat of her palm. A crack appeared and Tyra pulled it open, shedding a pallid light into a coffin-size tunnel that extended back into the gloom, then curved up sharply. Crouched in the pale illumination was a small man dressed in breeches and a stained tunic, with a faded blue robe over it all. As he stepped into the stone room, Tyra noticed that his balding blond hair was greasy, and there was a cut under one eye, the redness of the blood clashing harshly with his white pasty skin. He walked half-bent, as though there was great load on his back, and his rag-shod feet shuffled slowly on the dirt floor. A stream of spittle ran from the corner of his mouth and dripped to the floor, leaving a wet trail where he had walked. Tyra stepped away from him as he sat down one of the two chairs at the table. Tyra took the other, and left Jajran standing behind the man, knife in hand. The small man leaned over the table toward Tyra, licking dry, cracked lips. When he spoke, the sound was akin to dried leaves rubbing into each other. "Food? Does Tyra have food?"
Tyra sat back, disgusted. "You don't need any food, Ciryl. Spill the fr'ten and then leave."
Ciryl grinned manically, a strange light coming into his shifty blue eyes. "You'll feed Ciryl, ho yes, or Ciryl will take his new business to Aden, he will, he will."
"Hichi!" Tyra swore vehemently in Enyah, the pirate language. "Jajran, go get Ciryl something to eat. Now, Ciryl, what's the job this time?"
Ciryl began to blink furiously, his hands trembling. Suddenly he started to rock back and forth in his chair, and his breathing grew fast. Tyra leapt up and went to his side. She'd seen this before and knew what to do. She grabbed his foaming mouth and closed it with a snap. Putting one hand on either side of his head, Tyra twisted sharply to the left, and the convulsions stopped abruptly. Ciryl sat back up in his chair and mopped his mouth on his sleeve. Tyra wiped her soaked hand on the back of his robe, and sat down as Jajran entered the room, bearing a plate of half-rotten fruit and a dry piece of kirel bread. Setting the plate gingerly in front of Ciryl, Jajran stood back as Ciryl threw himself upon the food, tearing and gnawing ravenously. Tyra watched him with mild interest, feeling the slightest sense of pity for the pathetic man. He was old, nearly seventy, and he had lived in the first age. When he was twenty-one, he had been captured by black mages during the Magia War and mentally enhanced to read minds. Now, long after the mages were dead, he still heard voices, though he could not clearly read minds without a mage's command. Tyra snapped out of her reverie when Ciryl tapped her on the arm with his clammy fingers. She sat up and nodded to Jajran to take the now-empty plate away, then gestured for Ciryl to speak. His soft, wheezing voice echoed in the silence. "A man, a good, good man told Ciryl to bring this to Tyra." He pulled a leather bag from his robe pocket and dropped it on the table. The tie had come undone, and a few gold and silver coins spilled out. Tyra snatched the bag and stuffed it into a large trunk under the table. Ciryl laughed and continued. "He will meet Tyra at the TeShanin sycamore on the thirtieth day, at twelve increments past sunsrise. Does Tyra agree?"
Tyra mulled the possibilities over in her head. The gold that she had just been given would last her for a while, but she needed to test Jajran. She nodded and shooed Ciryl back into the passageway. She needed to lay some plans.

[sauronbill]

Hey it's great men. Keep it up.......

[e.Blackstar]

Thank you...uh...man. I'll post more, including the second part again because I changed it some. Telling me that its good is very self-esteem building, but please be more nit-pickey. Tx.:p

[e.Blackstar]

Here ya go

Zar Decade, year 08, second moon, twenty-eighth day:
Tyra the Assassin sat on a hard, slat-backed chair in a cellar room in front of a stone table. Her back was to the stairs, and a door to her right was bolted tightly. She listened intently, but there was no sound save for the incessant clanking of the candle sconce as it swung in the draft that entered the iron-barred window. A black-clad figure slipped down the stairs without a footfall heard. He drew an ebony bow under his cloak and slipped an arrow to the string. Pulling the sinew back, the form lifted the bow and aimed for Tyra's back. The rustle of his cloak betrayed him, and Tyra whirled on the intruder. He lowered his bow and turned to run, but Tyra was quicker, leaping on him and pinning him to the ground. She pulled back his hood, revealing silver eyes set deep in a lean, dark-skinned face. She yanked a gold dagger from her belt and set it at his throat. The man held up his hands in surrender, and Tyra stood, allowing him to rise. As he did, his hand snaked to his crossbelt, where eight black and silver knives hung. With lightning speed, he withdrew one and sent it spinning into the wall barely an inch from Tyra's head. "Yo' dea'," he announced gravely in crude, heavily accented Elvish, and walked to retrieve his knife. Tyra applauded slightly, but her face had a determined look on it. Turning to address the man, Tyra could not keep the cynical tone from her voice.
"Yarz, Jajran! If you actually were an assassin and I were your real victim, I might not have heard your cloak rustle, but don't take that chance. If I'd had guards, they would have heard it. Also, once I had seen you, why in Karelia's name did you try to run? You had time yet to stick that arrow in me and run. And, no, I am not dead. If I had been genuine, I would not have allowed you to stand. I likely would have killed you on the spot. Now, try it again, and this time, let the purpose of the hunt take over and not the sometimes-cowardly Jajran Kilhook." Tyra arranged her chair to point toward the window as Jajran unbolted the door and slipped out. Tyra was about to lock the door when a knock sounded from inside the far wall. Telling Jajran to follow her, Tyra put her ear to a plain wooden panel and whispered, "Who is it?"
A muffled voice answered in fluent Elvish. "It's your elrah rejjew, Tyra." Tyra grimaced at the prospect of the skulking fellow in her home, but she replied with a sharp, "How do I know it's you?" in Seshar, the common tongue.
A hissing laugh echoed in the confined tunnel behind the panel, but the voice called back softly, "Fine, here's the password, you suspicious quelli. Karelia, alon itloy ness. There's the blasted password, now let Ciryl in, will you?"
"Fine," Tyra said sullenly, and grabbed a tiny charm in the shape of a knife from her pocket. Inserting it into a miniscule keyhole, she smacked the wood next to it with the flat of her palm. A crack appeared and Tyra pulled it open, shedding a pallid light into a coffin-size tunnel that extended back into the gloom, then curved up sharply. Crouched in the pale illumination was a small man dressed in breeches and a stained tunic, with a faded blue robe over it all. His balding blond hair was greasy, and there was a cut under one eye, the redness of the blood clashing harshly with his white pasty skin. He walked half-bent, as though there was great load on his back, and his rag-shod feet shuffled slowly on the dirt floor. A stream of spittle ran from the corner of his mouth and dripped to the floor, leaving a wet trail where he had walked. Tyra stepped away from him as he sat down one of the two chairs at the table. Tyra took the other, and left Jajran standing behind the man, knife in hand. The small man leaned over the table toward Tyra, licking dry, cracked lips. When he spoke, the sound was akin to dried leaves crunching underfoot. "Food? Does Tyra have food?"
Tyra sat back, disgusted. "You don't need any food, Ciryl. Spill the fr'ten and then leave."
Ciryl grinned manically, a strange light coming into his shifty blue eyes. "You'll feed Ciryl, ho yes, or Ciryl will take his new business to Aden, he will, he will."
"Hichi!" Tyra swore vehemently in Enyah, the pirate language. Aden was her biggest rival. "Jajran, go get Ciryl something to eat. Now, Ciryl, what's the job this time?"
Ciryl began to blink furiously, his hands trembling. Suddenly he started to rock back and forth in his chair, and his breathing grew fast. Tyra leapt up and went to his side. She'd seen this before and knew what to do. She grabbed his foaming mouth and closed it with a snap. Putting one hand on either side of his head, Tyra twisted sharply to the left, and the convulsions stopped abruptly. Ciryl sat back up in his chair and mopped his mouth on his sleeve, taking a deep breath. Tyra wiped her soaked hand on the back of his robe, and sat down as Jajran entered the room, bearing a plate of half-rotten fruit and a dry piece of kirel bread. Setting the plate gingerly in front of Ciryl, Jajran stood back as Ciryl threw himself upon the food, tearing and gnawing ravenously. Tyra watched him with mild interest, feeling the slightest sense of pity for the pathetic man. He was old, nearly seventy, and he had lived in the first age. When he was twenty-one, he had been captured by black mages during the Magia War and mentally enhanced to read minds. Now, long after the mages were dead, he still heard voices, though he could not clearly read minds without a mage's command. Tyra recoiled as Ciryl tapped her on the arm with his clammy fingers. She sat up and nodded to Jajran to take the now-empty plate away, then gestured for Ciryl to speak. His soft, wheezing voice echoed in the silence. "A man, a good, good man told Ciryl to bring this to Tyra." He pulled a leather bag from his robe pocket and dropped it on the table. The tie had come undone, and a few gold and silver coins spilled out. Tyra snatched the bag greedily and poured its contents into a pouch on her belt. Ciryl laughed and continued. "This man, the kind, kind man, have many enemy. He want them dead! Dead! Hehehehehehe! He will meet Tyra at the TeShanin sycamore on the thirtieth day, at twelve increments past sunsrise. Does Tyra agree, yes?"
Tyra mulled the possibilities over in her head. The gold that she had just been given would last for a while, but jobs didn't come every day. Besides, she needed to test Jajran. She nodded and shooed Ciryl back into the passageway. She needed to lay some plans.

[e.Blackstar]

Chapter 1
Zar Decade, year 08, fifth moon, eighteenth day:
Deja Marina, High Queen of Tequor, sat slumped in her throne in the innermost chamber of the Royal Fortress. These past days had not gone well. She had just received news that the Kiama army was advancing across the Vinya Territory, and only two days before, an attempt was made on the life of Deja's loyal friend and warrior, Jonak. Deja sat up and signaled for a piece of paper and a bowl of ink. Picking up a pen from the table in front of her she dipped it into the ink. She poised the pen over the paper and began to write.

Royal Decree
I, Deja Marina, daughter of Kayna Vinya of the Royal House of Tequor, hereby declare war upon Forshen Kiama, son of Railu Kiama of the High Kiama u Sarfa House on the Charges of: Threats to Royal personages; attempted assassination of Warrior Jonak Sul, son of Count Deren Layar; infiltration and sabotage of the Royal Forge; the taking of slaves against the Laws of Humanity; and the attempted take-over of the Nether Lakes Region and the Vinya Territory. Thus, in accordance with the Laws and Decrees of Tequor, I am making preparations to vanquish the entire Kiama army and all of its allies. Norca make you strong, my warriors!


A servant dripped red wax over Deja's shoulder and she stamped the Royal crest into it.
"Take this and post it. Send criers and alert the people. Deploy the centaurs to the Sofre Mountain Region and the Territory of the Lesser Royals. Tell the junior warriors to go to the forges and choose weapons immediately."
The servant bowed low and hurried out of the room. As the footsteps receded down the hall, Deja rose from her chair and walked over to a wooden chest near the far wall. She opened it, reached inside, and pulled out a gleaming saber with a leather grip and a basket-hilt made of woven reeds. Deja took a beautiful jeweled scabbard from the chest and buckled it to her sword belt. Quartz, emeralds, and diamonds glittered as the sheath caught the light. Deja turned to her guards, every inch a warrior queen. "Prepare for battle."
Allehlay Vinya, daughter of Deja Marina, strode through a network of tunnels to Keela's forge. The air was stiflingly warm and a muted pounding reverberated through the slime-covered bricks. Allehlay felt much too hot in her black tunic and leather pants, and her bulky lace-up boots clunked on the grimy tile floor. She quickened her pace with a glance at the clock. It was already twelve increments past the rise of the suns and Keela would be gone home to Elshaan now. However, she had promised to leave Allehlay's newly made rapier behind in her forge room. A jovial voice startled Allehlay out of her reverie.
"Saymin, Allehlay!" A head poked around the doorway of Keela's forge. As Allehlay got over her surprise, she realized that it was Acalli Relah, Keela's long-time Ayah'kala, which literally meant, 'one who is dearer than family'. They had met in the Royal artisans' circle. Acalli was a tailor that occasionally visited Keela at her home in Elshaan as well as here in the Roya1 Fortress.
"I was hoping to catch Keela before she left, but no luck. She showed me your rapier last night when she finished it. Come on, I know where she put it."
Allehlay followed him into the cramped stone room. The smoldering embers in the small blacksmith's furnace suffused the room with a warm red glow. Blocks of silver and iron sat on shelves situated high on the walls. A translucent silver rapier lay beside a purple-dyed leather sheath. An amethyst flashed from the hilt as Allehlay picked it up and swished it through the heavy air a few times, testing its balance. She reverently placed it into its sheath and turned to say something to Acalli, but he was gone. A horn rent the silence, and Allehlay strode to the door, buckling her scabbard to her sword belt as she went.

Allehlay stood in her quarters in the heart of the Royal Fortress. She had changed into a hooded purple cloak and pulled her long mahogany hair into an intricate curl at the back of her head. She glanced at her reflection in the burnished copper plate hanging on her wall. Pulling out her rapier, she admired the twinkling blade. She was a full warrior now. During her required two months in the wilderness, she had had to find the materials for her would-be weapon. She had chosen to use sunsilver and amethysts. She had gathered the horla berries for the purple dye and chosen a metal-smith. Keela Sul was the only one she would settle for. She was the best blacksmith in the northern regions of Tequor. It had taken eight weeks, but Allehlay's rapier was finally finished. Keela had even engraved the name that Allehlay had chosen into the blade: Anuval, meaning 'strength' in the tongue of the ancient priests. Allehlay sheathed her rapier, took a deep breath, and stepped into the corridor.

Forshen Kiama stood on the high balcony of his castle, surveying his lands. Far to the north-east he could just make out the hazy outline of the Royal Fortress. A chill wind blew, rustling through his hair. He signaled to the servant standing beside him to raise the standard. A white fang was outlined against a field of black. The amassed armies that stood below raised a concerted roar. The horses neighed and horns blared as the army rode a full circle around the castle. A few dragons rose into the air, saluting with their wings. As the army completed the circuit and came around once more, Forshen rode out of the doors on a swift steed to the head of his army. His banner dipped and waved as he outpaced his army, a huge dust cloud rising in their wake. The ride to battle had begun.

Chapter 2

The earth thundered as thousands of horses and unicorns leapt and bounded over the coarse ground of Tequor. Allehlay ran near the front of the pack on her friend's unicorn Burnaculum. She was racing neck to neck with her friend Shikan's unicorn Rupumi. Allehlay was laughing in spite of herself. She was on her way to her first battle and she felt free as the wind. Behind the warriors of the houses of Jonak and Deja, the peasants of the Sofre Mountain region and the Vinya Territory walked or rode on slow but strong rahuna beasts. Deja herself was flying at the front of the army with an elite group of trained ice-dragon riders. The huge wing-span of her dragon, Caral, beat strongly as she fought to keep her balance on her new-found steed. In the distance Deja could see the dust thrown up by Forshen's army. She gauged the distance. Battle would begin by dawn.

Chapter 1
Zar Decade, year 08, fifth moon, eighteenth day:
Deja Marina, High Queen of Tequor, sat slumped in her throne in the innermost chamber of the Royal Fortress. These past days had not gone well. She had just received news that the Kiama army was advancing across the Vinya Territory, and only two days before, an attempt was made on the life of Deja's loyal friend and warrior, Jonak. Deja sat up and signaled for a piece of paper and a bowl of ink. Picking up a pen from the table in front of her she dipped it into the ink. She poised the pen over the paper and began to write.

Royal Decree
I, Deja Marina, daughter of Kayna Vinya of the Royal House of Tequor, hereby declare war upon Forshen Kiama, son of Railu Kiama of the High Kiama u Sarfa House on the Charges of: Threats to Royal personages; attempted assassination of Warrior Jonak Sul, son of Count Deren Layar; infiltration and sabotage of the Royal Forge; the taking of slaves against the Laws of Humanity; and the attempted take-over of the Nether Lakes Region and the Vinya Territory. Thus, in accordance with the Laws and Decrees of Tequor, I am making preparations to vanquish the entire Kiama army and all of its allies. Norca make you strong, my warriors!


A servant dripped red wax over Deja's shoulder and she stamped the Royal crest into it.
"Take this and post it. Send criers and alert the people. Deploy the centaurs to the Sofre Mountain Region and the Territory of the Lesser Royals. Tell the junior warriors to go to the forges and choose weapons immediately."
The servant bowed low and hurried out of the room. As the footsteps receded down the hall, Deja rose from her chair and walked over to a wooden chest near the far wall. She opened it, reached inside, and pulled out a gleaming saber with a leather grip and a basket-hilt made of woven reeds. Deja took a beautiful jeweled scabbard from the chest and buckled it to her sword belt. Quartz, emeralds, and diamonds glittered as the sheath caught the light. Deja turned to her guards, every inch a warrior queen. "Prepare for battle."
Allehlay Vinya, daughter of Deja Marina, strode through a network of tunnels to Keela's forge. The air was stiflingly warm and a muted pounding reverberated through the slime-covered bricks. Allehlay felt much too hot in her black tunic and leather pants, and her bulky lace-up boots clunked on the grimy tile floor. She quickened her pace with a glance at the clock. It was already twelve increments past the rise of the suns and Keela would be gone home to Elshaan now. However, she had promised to leave Allehlay's newly made rapier behind in her forge room. A jovial voice startled Allehlay out of her reverie.
"Saymin, Allehlay!" A head poked around the doorway of Keela's forge. As Allehlay got over her surprise, she realized that it was Acalli Relah, Keela's long-time Ayah'kala, which literally meant, 'one who is dearer than family'. They had met in the Royal artisans' circle. Acalli was a tailor that occasionally visited Keela at her home in Elshaan as well as here in the Roya1 Fortress.
"I was hoping to catch Keela before she left, but no luck. She showed me your rapier last night when she finished it. Come on, I know where she put it."

[e.Blackstar]

Allehlay followed him into the cramped stone room. The smoldering embers in the small blacksmith's furnace suffused the room with a warm red glow. Blocks of silver and iron sat on shelves situated high on the walls. A translucent silver rapier lay beside a purple-dyed leather sheath. An amethyst flashed from the hilt as Allehlay picked it up and swished it through the heavy air a few times, testing its balance. She reverently placed it into its sheath and turned to say something to Acalli, but he was gone. A horn rent the silence, and Allehlay strode to the door, buckling her scabbard to her sword belt as she went.
Allehlay stood in her quarters in the heart of the Royal Fortress. She had changed into a hooded purple cloak and pulled her long mahogany hair into an intricate curl at the back of her head. She glanced at her reflection in the burnished copper plate hanging on her wall. Pulling out her rapier, she admired the twinkling blade. She was a full warrior now. During her required two months in the wilderness, she had had to find the materials for her would-be weapon. She had chosen to use sunsilver and amethysts. She had gathered the horla berries for the purple dye and chosen a metal-smith. Keela Sul was the only one she would settle for. She was the best blacksmith in the northern regions of Tequor. It had taken eight weeks, but Allehlay's rapier was finally finished. Keela had even engraved the name that Allehlay had chosen into the blade: Anuval, meaning 'strength' in the tongue of the ancient priests. Allehlay sheathed her rapier, took a deep breath, and stepped into the corridor.

Forshen Kiama stood on the high balcony of his castle, surveying his lands. Far to the north-east he could just make out the hazy outline of the Royal Fortress. A chill wind blew, rustling through his hair. He signaled to the servant standing beside him to raise the standard. A white fang was outlined against a field of black. The amassed armies that stood below raised a concerted roar. The horses neighed and horns blared as the army rode a full circle around the castle. A few dragons rose into the air, saluting with their wings. As the army completed the circuit and came around once more, Forshen rode out of the doors on a swift steed to the head of his army. His banner dipped and waved as he outpaced his army, a huge dust cloud rising in their wake. The ride to battle had begun.

[e.Blackstar]

Chapter 2

The earth thundered as thousands of horses and unicorns leapt and bounded over the coarse ground of Tequor. Allehlay ran near the front of the pack on her friend's unicorn Burnaculum. She was racing neck to neck with her friend Shikan's unicorn Rupumi. Allehlay was laughing in spite of herself. She was on her way to her first battle and she felt free as the wind. Behind the warriors of the houses of Jonak and Deja, the peasants of the Sofre Mountain region and the Vinya Territory walked or rode on slow but strong rahuna beasts. Deja herself was flying at the front of the army with an elite group of trained ice-dragon riders. The huge wing-span of her dragon, Caral, beat strongly as she fought to keep her balance on her new-found steed. In the distance Deja could see the dust thrown up by Forshen's army. She gauged the distance. Battle would begin by dawn.

"First rank, down! Second rank, shoot! Third rank, load up!" The commands flew thick and fast in the midst of the melee. Allehlay was sitting behind a rock near the edge of the field, wincing as a young man applied a stinging salve to a score in her side. Burnaculum was carrying the severely wounded of both sides to the medics. The battle raged before Allehlay. Cutlass was matched against sword, rapier clashed with saber, and longbows thrummed as arrows flew overhead. Riderless dragons and eagles grappled in mid-air, wings beating furiously. Allehlay saw Deja, her saber splintered at her feet, fending off Forshen with a notched dagger. Allehlay fought her way to Deja's side, only to see her go down from a thrust from Forshen's blade. He stood tall over the defeated leader, opening his hand palm upwards. A huge black sphere lay there, a myriad of shadow and flame. Forshen waved his fingers over it as if conjuring a spell. A white light arced from the jewel, striking Deja and coursing through her. Allehlay rushed to her side as Forshen turned away, satisfied at his victory over the queen. Deja lifted her head weakly, her eyes glazing over with the mists of death that were fast approaching. "Allehlay, daughter, all is lost if Forshen continues with this magic weapon. You must travel to the land of the gods and beg with Aurora and Eninn for help. Surely Forshen has been given this by the Dark Gods themselves, and only the Moonstone can save us."
Allehlay gasped. The Moonstone was the most powerful magic object ever made. Legend had it that even the rocks and the seas bowed to it. "I will do this deed. I swear it on my warrior's honor," Allehlay said, tears filling her eyes. A weak smile played across Deja's lips. Then she closed her eyes and a rush of breath escaped her lifeless body. Allehlay picked up her mother's body and ran from the scene of carnage, tears coursing down her cheeks.

Watching Allehlay run from a safe vantage point, Ciryl beckoned to Tyra and Jajran, then dropped back down behind the ledge. The pair moved stealthily across the short plain, dodging and weaving. As Jajran drew out his ebony bow and notched an arrow to the string, Tyra held up a hand. "Kill this one right. Don't miss like you did with Jonak. Forshen wants her good and dead."
Jajran turned to look at Tyra, his face impassive. "Twoos no' me own fault. Da floo' creak a bi' and dat 'twas dat. Ye needn't be a-blamin' me. Noo be silen' and lemme wo'k." Tyra lifted an eyebrow, but shrugged and gestured for him to fire. Jajran scanned the plain, but Allehlay was nowhere to be found. He glared at Tyra and said, "Ye made me miss 'er. Noo we'll 'ave to foller 'er." He began to move again, picking up Allehlay's trail with as much ease as a tracker cat.

When Allehlay had run all the way to the Royal Fortress, it was nearly nightfall. She hadn't had anything to eat since morning and was bone-weary. Deja's body was still draped across her arms, and her face was stiff from crying. When she reached the iron-shod gates, only a few guards were at the sentry posts. Allehlay avoided them and slipped in through the secret unguarded wallgate. A stop at the stores room filled her haversack with dried meat and preserved fruit, plus two canteens of water. She changed into fresh raiment, including a tunic, jerkin, pants, and a hooded cloak. She relaced her boots with blood-red cord, the color of mourning, and laid Deja in the silence of the temple, near the altar. Taking a leather pouch embroidered with the royal crest from around Deja’s neck, Allehlay hooked it to her belt. Inside were the ashes of her deceased father, the only bit of him left. Allehlay snuck out to the stables and saddled up her grey stallion Adon. She led him out of the back gate and into the concealing brush. Then, as silently as she had come, she was gone, seeking shelter in the hills as night drew in around her, so eager was she to do her deceased mother's bidding.

[e.Blackstar]

Chapter 3

Tyra and Jajran were lying in wait for Allehlay in a grove of cors trees near the Ford of Tren. Tyra lounged in the upper boughs, keeping a lookout, with Jajran on the lower branches, his bow ready. They had tied their horses to trees on the other side of the ford, and were expecting Allehlay any minute. Tyra cocked her head to the right as she heard the sound of hoofbeats. Allehlay rode over the small rise, unsuspecting of the trap that awaited her. As she galloped near the trees, some sixth sense bade her look up. She did, and saw a black bow, pulled taut and ready to fly. She veered Adon to the right as the arrow flew through the air. Tyra backhanded Jajran across the face as the arrow plunged into Adon's side, blood dripping from the wound. Allehlay looked at the gash with horror as the arrow was ripped out, barbed tip and all, on an overhanging branch, but Adon ran on. Tyra and Jajran jumped out of the trees, and Tyra sent a dagger spinning after Allehlay, but it missed by a wide margin. They scrambled across the ford, slashed the horses' ropes, and mounted quickly, leaving rein, saddle, and bit on the ground. Jajran's black stallion sped neck to neck with Tyra's brown-speckled mare, over the Demar plains, gaining on Allehlay slowly but surely. Jajran got another arrow on his bow, but as he released it, Adon stumbled, falling to the ground, wheezing. His flanks heaved, but air came slow to his lungs. Finally his breath stopped altogether, and he died. Tyra stooped from the saddle to slit Allehlay's throat, but Allehlay unsheathed her rapier and parried the thrust. The move left Tyra off-balance, and she fell to the ground. She landed on her feet, however, and turned around to finish the job. Allehlay remembered her Yi'she training and brought up one heavy boot, kicking Tyra square in the face, cracking her nose and sending her sprawling, unconscious. Jajran dismounted when he saw Tyra go down, and threw one of his knives straight for Allehlay's heart. It did not fly true, but the pommel stone whacked Allehlay just below her collarbone and knocked her to the ground, driving the breath from her lungs. Jajran stepped hard on Allehlay's stomach, causing her to double over in pain. He retrieved his dagger from where it had fallen, and, licking the blade, he bent so that his nose was nearly pressed against hers. He flicked the sharp edge of his largest knife against her cheek, opening a tiny incision that bled slowly. He matched it with another on her opposite cheek, and then one across each bicep. Allehlay squirmed with all her might, to no avail. Jajran pressed his dagger to her throat, and she thought, I've failed you, mother. She clutched the bag of ashes, and felt a new strength enter her. As the cold steel of the knife bit into her neck, she raised her arm quickly and shoved at his knee, knocking him backwards. She tried to get up and get to his horse, but he forced her back down and glared at her, breathing heavily. His face was crimson, and his hand shook with anger as he lowered the knife for the last time. Allehlay turned her face away, so as not to see Death approach, and spotted three mounted figures near the caves to the right. They were indistinct, but they grew clearer as they hurried toward Allehlay and Jajran. Hoping that it would not speed her demise, Allehlay screwed up her courage and pulled a tiny mirror from her pocket. Keeping it at her side, she waved it wildly, hoping the sun would catch it and flash at the others. Indeed, they sped their pace, and as the hoofbeats grew louder, Jajran looked up, surprised. He cursed softly and narrowed his eyes. The dagger cut deeper, cutting off Allehlay's air. She struggled, and when she was sure that she was going to die, a flurry of galloping hooves and the flashes of swords interrupted her confused thoughts, sending her reeling into blackness.

That's all i have now. Actually i have more, but I have to change it drastically.

[Thindraug_2]

Way to go girl asum story. Ah... I think i told you that last night but cool story:p

[e.Blackstar]

Tx for the input (Hi Dani) Also, can you tell aprox. what most of the strange words are?


Chapter 4

Allehlay awoke in an airy room with carven pillars and long window curtained in lace. She lay on a bed of heather covered in thick quilted Arn fur. A girl and a boy, around fifteen like Allehlay. Allehlay gasped. The girl was Keela, and the boy was their childhood friend Elixi. He was a Sanit, tall and dark. She sat up slowly and asked, "What happened?"
Elixi sat on the edge of the bed and explained. "Keela, Acalli and I were on a patrol last night when we saw some people riding near the Caves of the Eye. We went over to investigate, and found Tyra the Assassin, of all people, unconscious. There was a dark man too, about to stab you. We knocked him out and brought you here to Elshaan. What were you doing out there? And why was Tyra chasing you?"
"Uhhh..." Allehlay said vaguely. "I'll explain later."
"That's fine." Keela replied. "When you're ready, we've got lunch ready. The servants are still here, so at least we don't have to cook for ourselves."
"Who's 'we'?" Allehlay asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Oh, you know," Keela laughed. "All of us who aren't lucky enough to be princesses and able to become a full warrior until we come of age. The ones who are too young to go to battle."
Elixi patted Allehlay's hand, and then he and Keela left Allehlay to herself. She got out of bed and walked to the wardrobe. Out of the wide clothes selection, she chose a simple woven tunic and pants of a rough brown cloth. She belted the ensemble with a cob of rope and crossed the room to the dressing table. Allehlay brushed her hair with a comb carved from the bone of a volyan bird and walked into a richly decorated corridor. Tapestries hung on the wall, sporting bright yellows and blues. Servants and courtiers passed without even noticing Allehlay. She continued down the long passage until she came to a large dining hall. She saw many of her and Keela's friends seated around a long table on a dais in the center of the room. Acalli was there, Seshano, the illegitimate son of the emperor of Esh, Nedeana, his Ayah'kala, Ynadia and her older brother El, Daal, her telepathic Elven friends Davin and Esta, and a tall dark-skinned boy who rose from his chair and walked to Allehlay.
"Dace!" Allehlay cried as she embraced Elixi's twin brother.
"Ayan, Vinya," Dace whispered, falling into his native speech, and the tradition of addressing girls by their second name. Dace led Allehlay to a seat between Ynadia and Daal, then sat down himself. Davin passed her a bowl of thick meaty stew and Nedeana handed her a slice of cornbread. Allehlay dug in with a will. Between mouthfuls, Allehlay explained her quest, rubbing the healing cuts given to her by Jajran. When she was done, Keela rose and drew her sword.
"I am sure that I speak for all here when I pledge to come with you and protect you with my life. All who are with me, draw steel!" Ten young warriors exchanged looks. Ten blades flashed in the afternoon light as they were drawn. Allehlay looked around the table at the solemn faces of her friends, and smiled.


Chapter 5

Twelve teenage warriors stood in the pack room, readying for the journey. Keela had outfitted them all with chain mail, new sword belts, and daggers, each with a different pommel stone. One of the servants took them to the larder and they filled bags with dried fruits, cured meat, and skin canteens of fresh water.
They decided to sleep one more night in Elshaan before departing. Allehlay went to her chamber and changed into a loose gown. Climbing into bed, she whispered prayers for her mother and her friends. Then, closing her eyes, she slept.
All around Elshaan, weariness closed in. The servants in their cots, the animals in their pens, the rodents in the walls. Davin and Esta kissed goodnight and retired to their bedrooms. Keela and Acalli embraced in the hallway, and he walked her to her chamber. Seshano sat with Nedeana in the fire hall, a crackling blaze burning merrily before them. Nedeana slipped her hand into his and they sat, staring at the flames, until sleep engulfed Nedeana. Seshano picked her gently up and carried her off to her bedroom, then went to sleep himself. Dace lay awake, listening to Elixi's snores, and remembered the nights in the refugee camp after their parents were killed in the plague released upon their home village in Gamnia by a powerful mage. Daal was lying on his bed, wrapped in sheets after a violent nightmare about his father, one of Deja's old bodyguards, in the thick of battle. El and Ynadia slept peacefully, with dreams only of glory and honor.
Allehlay's sleep was mired with dreams of the battle, Forshen striking her mother down. Images of Deja's limp body before the altar, deprived of a proper warriors' funeral by her own daughter, mixed with pictures of oceans, fires, misty-faced enemies, and swords clashing, swirled before her eyes. Finally, the pictures swirled together to form two figures. The first was a woman of surpassing beauty. Her face had a serene look, and a star was upon her brow. She was clad in flowing white and her feet were shod in silver. Ebony hair spilled in dark cascades down her back. Her deep silver eyes seemed to pierce Allehlay to the core. Beside stood a man, his majestic height crowned with a circlet of gold. A pale yellow tunic did little to conceal his powerful build. A translucent gold cloth hung in front of his face, obscuring his features. Allehlay knew instinctively that they were Aurora and Eninn, goddess and god of life. A voice echoed around Allehlay's head, loud and yet soft.
"We have assumed these forms to put you at ease. We have come with a message for you. The journey will be hard, and you will lose friends to death. But you have accepted this task, and history cannot be altered. The burden is yours, but this token will guard you from Elas and his followers." Bending down, Allehlay saw Aurora bend down and felt something drop around her neck. With a final inaudible breath, Aurora and Eninn vanished. Allehlay slept peacefully, now undisturbed by dreams.
She woke up the next morning before the suns rose. She did not remember her dream, but the weight of Aurora's pendant didn't feel unusual. Pulling it out from under her gown, Allehlay examined it. It was hung on a simple leather thong, but the charm was of high quality. It was shaped like a budding flower, but the petals were carved out of amethyst, with delicate silver vines coiling around the bud. Allehlay changed into a white tunic with a black jerkin over it. Pinching the jerkin closed with a belt buckled with the likeness of a copper ship, she pulled on black pants, and laced her boots up to her knees. Tucking her pendant into her tunic, she strode to the dining hall to meet Keela for breakfast. The haversacks lay on the table, but no-one was about. Not even the servants were up at this increment of the morning. Allehlay chuckled and walked into the adjoining kitchen. Pulling a ribbon out of her jerkin pocket, Allehlay tied her hair quickly back and set to work. Moving quietly, she removed a pan from the cupboard and set it on the heat coils of the hearth. She found flint and tinder on the mantle-piece and struck a fire, which soon crackled merrily. She descended the stairs to the underground stone rooms, keeping the food cool. Searching revealed some spiced syran meat strips and prekah eggs. She ran back up the steps with her fragile load. The pan was warming nicely, so she laid the meat inside and set the pan on a hanging iron plate over the fire. The grease began sizzling almost immediately, sending a wonderful aroma trailing down the corridors. Though Allehlay had not been here for nearly six years, she still remembered Jonak's stash of herbs behind the left drawer. She checked, and it was still there, exactly the same as it had been when Allehlay had been growing up here. She selected a few and sprinkled them on the meat. She let them sit awhile, then pulled the pan out of the fire and onto the counter in one deft movement. She grabbed a knife and sliced open the leathery membrane of an egg, letting the slimy interior slide out and cover the meat. Flipping the hardening substance over, she repeated the process with another egg. Adding more meat, Allehlay continued flipping and pouring until she had several layers. Dumping the thick mass on a plate, she cut it into squares and poured a runny sauce over the blocks. Setting it on the table, she doled out gral milk and set forks at each place. Then she walked down the hall to Keela's room. She knocked on the heavy wooden door.
"Come in," a cheery voice called. Allehlay opened the door and saw Keela just finishing lacing her boots. Keela turned around as Allehlay walked in. She wore a green tunic that matched her eyes, white pants, and a short, light green cloak. She walked briskly out the door, commenting, "I smell breakfast. We'd better go wake the others."

[e.Blackstar]

The suns were just peeking over the horizon as Keela strode into Acalli's bedroom. She sat down on the bed and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. He opened his eyes groggily, catching her hand as she stood. She pulled hard, yanking him out of bed so suddenly that he fell to the floor, laughing. She ruffled his hair and walked out, saying "Breakfast is ready, lazek'an."
"Lazek'an yourself! The suns have barely risen!" He called after her. Picking himself up off the floor, he shambled to the wardrobe, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Allehlay woke Nedeana, Seshano, Dace, and Daal. Keela roused El, Davin, Ynadia and Esta. They nearly ran into each other outside Elixi's room. Keela motioned for silence and the tip-toed in. Elixi was nowhere to be found. They looked at each other questioningly, and went to the dining hall, figuring that he'd show up when got hungry enough. When they entered the long room, Elixi sat at a place on the side, sopping up the remains of his sauce with a hunk of fresh bread. He looked up guiltily when they came in the room. Dace took one look at his twin brother and burst out laughing, remembering the many times that their father had scolded them for stealing cakes from his stash. The mirth was infectious, and soon all of the friends had collapsed helplessly upon the chairs. A cook walked in bearing a tray of fruit turnovers, baked golden in mes'r sap. Keela took it from him and almost dropped it on the floor as she doubled over with laughter. Somehow they got it to the table and dished the turnovers out. Allehlay swept her now-cold eggs into the waste bucket, bit out a huge mouthful of fruit and pastry, and smiled contentedly.

[Thindraug_2]

i can under stand the words well most of them (Hi Maria)

[Celebrochwen]

I like your stoey. Where do you get these ideas? How do you find time to type all of that? It took a long time to read, but keep it up!

[Thindraug_2]

would you mind if I copyed your story to my computer??? I won't send it off as my own.

[e.Blackstar]

Uh...why Dani?

Tx all.

I may not post any for a while, 'cause I am doing somewhat of an overhaul.

[e.Blackstar]

Yay! More!

However, I'm backtracking a little, to the point when the battle begins. here goes...

"First rank, down! Second rank, shoot! Third rank, load up!" The commands flew thick and fast in the midst of the melee. Allehlay was sitting behind a rock near the edge of the field, wincing as a young man applied a stinging salve to a score in her side. Burnaculum was carrying the severely wounded of both sides to the medics. The battle raged before Allehlay. Cutlass was matched against sword, rapier clashed with saber, and longbows thrummed as arrows flew overhead. Riderless dragons and eagles grappled in mid-air, wings beating furiously. Allehlay saw Deja, her saber splintered at her feet, fending off Forshen with a notched dagger. She went down at a thrust from Forshen's blade. He stood tall over the defeated leader, opening his hand palm upwards. A huge black sphere lay there, a myriad of shadow and flame. Forshen waved his fingers over it as if conjuring a spell. A white light arced from the jewel, striking Deja and coursing through her. Allehlay rushed to her side as Forshen turned away, satisfied at his victory over the queen. Jonak ordered the arm to regroup and form up. Allehlay helped her semi-conscious mother up and carried her from the scene of carnage, tears coursing down their cheeks.

Watching Allehlay run from a safe vantage point, Ciryl beckoned to Tyra and Jajran, then dropped back down behind the ledge. The pair moved stealthily across the short plain, dodging and weaving. As Jajran drew out his ebony bow and notched an arrow to the string, Tyra held up a hand. "Kill this one right. Don't miss like you did with Jonak. Forshen wants her good and dead."
Jajran turned to look at Tyra, his face impassive. "Twoos no' me own fault. Da floo' creak a bi' and dat 'twas dat. Ye needn't be a-blamin' me. Noo be silen' and lemme wo'k." Tyra lifted an eyebrow, but shrugged and gestured for him to fire. Jajran scanned the plain, but Allehlay was nowhere to be found. He glared at Tyra and said, "Ye made me miss 'er. Noo we'll 'ave to foller 'er." He began to move again, picking up Allehlay's trail with as much ease as a tracker cat.

When Allehlay had run all the way to the Royal Fortress, it was nearly nightfall. She hadn't had anything to eat since morning and was bone-weary. Deja was now half limp, and Allehlay was carrying her. Her face was stiff from crying. When she reached the iron-shod gates, only a few guards were at the sentry posts. Allehlay avoided them and slipped in through the secret unguarded wallgate. Allehlay kicked open the door to Deja's chamber, and laid her on the bed. Bustling around, Allehlay gathered bandages and salve, but she hurried back into the main room when Deja called out weakly. She still lay on the bed, but her skin was rubbery and pale. Deja lifted her head weakly, her eyes glazing over with the mists of death that were fast approaching. "Allehlay, daughter, all is lost if Forshen continues with this magic weapon. You must travel to the land of the gods and beg with Aurora and Eninn for help. Surely Forshen has been given this by the Dark Gods themselves, and only the Moonstone can save us."
Allehlay gasped. The Moonstone was the most powerful magic object ever made. Legend had it that even the rocks and the seas bowed to it. "I will do this deed. I swear it on my warrior's honor," Allehlay said, tears filling her eyes. A weak smile played across Deja's lips. Then she closed her eyes and a rush of breath escaped her lifeless body. Allehlay stood quickly, another stream of tears rolling down her cheeks. Picking Deja up gently, she laid her in the silence of the temple, near the altar. Taking a leather pouch embroidered with the royal crest from around Deja’s neck, Allehlay hooked it to her belt. Inside were the ashes of her deceased father, the only bit of him left. A stop at the stores room filled her haversack with dried meat and preserved fruit, plus two canteens of water. She changed into fresh raiment, including a tunic, jerkin, pants, and a hooded cloak. She relaced her boots with blood-red cord, the color of mourning, and snuck out to the stables. She saddled up her grey stallion Adon and led him out of the back gate into the concealing brush. Then, as silently as she had come, she was gone, seeking shelter in the hills as night drew in around her, so eager was she to do her deceased mother's bidding.

[Jaime]

You have a wonderful gift of the written language. I was engulfed in it. Keep writting, you are meant to do it.

Jaime

[e.Blackstar]

Thankee, Jaime.

Wow, this is a REALLY old thread. I haven't worked on it for a loooooong time and I am mad at the story currently. It's been being difficult. Grr...

If you wanna read any other of my stories I may start another thread for one or two of my short stories, if y'all would like.

[Thindraug_2]

nice like it i like it