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The ACTUAL Beginning until further notice |
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The wind swept majestically across the hills of the valley, the golden wheat and corn heads bowing in acknowledgement. The clouds above swirled and darkened bitterly and began to gently spill their now disturbed load onto the earth. What was now a gale refused to subside and began to blow violently past the open door and window that slammed against the wall they were latched to. Eventually, the wind reached the dense, green forest where every leaf whispered to another about the storm that was to come. The sun itself took cover high behind the clouds, where it was unaffected and could continue its slow way down to the bottom of the sky. The clouds unleashed one last rumbling roar of thunder and the downpour came, knocking the quivering leaves out of breath and the wind into nothing but a swirling breeze. Most of the droplets landed to the soft, loamy forest ground with a slight pop, but a small few fell right onto the head of a weary looking girl and joined with her tears as they slid down her face. She had been travelling for days, perhaps almost a full week as she had been too preoccupied to notice anything at all. She had been living off of the few berries of the late summer that she could find in this dense underbrush. As the rain came down upon her she simply gave out a long, deep sigh. She was tired of crying and vowed she wouldn’t do it again as it accomplished nothing. She looked up and tried to estimate how long the storm would last but could see very little through the heavy rain and the canopy above her. It was far too dark to continue her aimless journey so the little girl looked about for a place to nestle and try to sleep. The nearest thing to shelter that she could find was a large oak whose roots were raised enough out of the ground to provide some form of defence from the elements. There, she nestled herself and gripped her dagger defiantly. Perhaps she wouldn’t survive tonight. She tried to ignore the pain in every part of her body, especially her starved stomach. The little girl shut her eyes tight and ignored every though she had as best she could. Soon, she was asleep, more from exhaustion than comfort.
* * *
There was a soft knock at Lazarus' door followed by a creak of a lantern swinging on a hooked iron rod, often used in the academy. He stumbled sleepily out of his bed, which, he often realized with dismay, was really a pile of straw covered with a dirty, stained sheet. His feet unhappily met the cold stone floor as he pulled on his old pair of trousers. Lazarus pushed his feet clumsily into his ruddy brown boots and opened the creaking door to face a strong looking black haired man of 19, a senior year student. Illuminated by the dim lamplight he appeared almost ghostly at this ungodly hour.
"Americk," said he. Lazarus took it to mean that it was his name and after a while of awkward silence Lazarus meekly mumbled his own.
The youth turned down the corridor and Lazarus shuffled on behind him nervously. The sound of their footsteps echoing on the cobbled floor and the creaking of the dim lamp was all that could be heard. The Senior kept walking with a grim face that told Lazarus he was prepared for whatever danger might come. Lazarus himself couldn't help noticing his own heart pounding in his breast. They passed many doors, all practically identical to his own. Each of them was made of old, half rotted wood with an engraved iron attachment, and every one of them housed a currently sleeping boy.
Suddenly, the boy in front of him stopped at one of the doors marked "973" and knocked. Lazarus heard some rustling sounds from inside the room and out stepped a boy, perhaps two years older than himself, and far stronger. Two years meant a lot at the academy. “Americk,” “Thomas,” the boy returned coolly. He seemed rather arrogant, “And you?” he gestured towards Lazarus. “Lazarus,” he answered defiantly, refusing to be belittled. The Senior continued on, ignoring the obvious silent battle. Thomas tramped in line behind Lazarus. They continued in the same way as before, descending spiral staircases and walking along dark corridors, all made of hard stone, until they finally made it to the castle gardens.
He was glad that the storm had passed. This would have been much more terrible if he couldn’t see anything through the rain. The water that sat comfortably on the blades of grass began to soak through Lazarus’ boots as he trudged on, causing him to shiver from cold, discomfort and fear at once. The path to the outer walls was long and ominous at night, with gnarled and crooked willows on either side, looking eerie and far more frightening illuminated only by the lamplight and the silvery, intermittent light of the moon above. It was enough to send shivers down the spine of the squire behind Lazarus. However, it would have been far more like a daily walk in the gardens if it were not for the fact that they knew what was at the end of the path and the uncertainty of what was going to happen beyond it. As they continued on, the thin black line on the horizon transformed into a looming, dark wall, the only rupture in the wall’s existence was one single black gate that was almost as tall and as grim as its partner. The wall had been erected in order to keep the bandits out. Most often, throughout history, bandits were small groups of about twenty organized thieves, but, by circumstance, an army of bandits has joined together, led by the Queen, as she called herself. The bandits were constantly patrolling the forest around the castle walls for their chance to enter and plunder the Academy. This was why every night, as a defense, five groups of three, each one led by an experienced senior, were trained and sent on guard duty to keep an eye out in the forest for any form of encampment or even just an odd bandit or two looking to cause trouble. Or so he had heard, Lazarus thought to himself, this was his first time in the forest.
Americk unlocked the giant iron padlock with the key beneath his cloak. All three stepped though the castle gate.
"Here goes nothing..." Lazarus mumbled, uncertainly.
***
Chapter two will probably take another year unless someone forces me to sit down and use my fingers. Most unlikely, though. COPY AND/OR STEAL AND SUFFER. biggrin
PromenadePalladium · Thu Feb 24, 2011 @ 12:46am · 0 Comments |
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