The Northern Tales
von
Darkangel
Hab mal ein bisschen mit meinem Englisch experimentiert. Der Text findet sich auch in Deutsch in der Geschichte "Iskari's Herz" aber vielleicht wird das hier ja auch ne eigene Geschichte...
The Northern Tales
It was then, as the
Great Evil swept the land, that a child held the whole worlds fate in the palm of his unknowing hand.
The Northern Tales,
Book I
One
Sunrays fell through the painted glass of the window, and enlightened the dust which kept whirling in the air, no matter how hard the cleansmen and -women of The Hall tried to polish it away. Slowly it trembeled through the air, sparkling dots twisting and whirling through the corridors chambers and appartments, setting down on tables, beds, chimneys and the sleeping inhabitants of the castle. Sticking to the windows, covering everyhing with an unseen greyish patina. It was to be a cold an clear winter morning, and the new day seemed to do its best to be as chilly as the previous night. Eldar moved slowly through the twisting corridors towards the rooms of the High Lady, who was to deliver any day now. He shook his head and mumbled under his breath. He couldn't understand the thinking of Lady Medara, what was the point in becoming pregnant every second year? It wasn't that there was no heir to the throne, in that case the whole thing could turn out nasty. Imagine, he thought, no heir, no crown prince, this could be trouble, but three princes, each of them as eager as the others to ascend to the throne of The Southern Reigns, Eldar shook his head once more, this has to rise some problems afterwards. Grumbling and swaring under his breath he finally reached the heavy oak portal which led to her ladies rooms. As he opened them, the only person, except to Her Ladyship, inside the room, was Princess Dialah, the only daughter to The House of the Sun. With a short nod in her direction he turned to The Lady, whose immense belly stretched out beneath the silk and satin sheets of her bed. With a faint smile she bid him closer and took his hand in hers. Her skin was cold as ice, but this has been the same in every pregnancy before, so it didn't bother Eldar, and he returned the smile.
So, Your Ladyship seems to be doing very fine," he started, but was cut short by the sniggering of Princess Dialah.
"I'm sure you could do just a little better, couldn't you? Honoured One?" She completed the question after a stern look from her mother. Eldar rose not an eyebrow, but smiled fondly at her.
"If I did do this job, my dear," he said in a rather boisterous tone "no one would do better, not even a woman, and never would your mum!"
"So you think it should be a man's work to have babies?" Dialah asked shyly. Eldar nodded.
"So why won't you take the rest also? For example monthly pain, troubles with the nursing, pain in the back., maybe the men could do the whole thing without women - that would be great." And after a short while she added "Honoured One!" Eldar stood thunderstruck and stared at her.
"I think she has learned at least something in Darul," Lady Medara said softly, her voice shaking with laughter, and when Eldar looked in the innocent look of Dialah's eyes, everybody started laughing at the same time. Dialah ran across the room and took Eldar in her arms., and he hugged her too.
"Your back," he said softly, "Finally you are back."
"And now I'll stay," Dialah replied, "I will never leave you again, I will always be at your side, father"
So where should I start? You've already heard so many tales about the North, that I don't know which one I should tell. ... So you think it doesn't matter? The tales are just children's stories about a far off reign and time? Don't be silly dear, ... but you really do believe it, don't you? So maybe I should start at the beginnig...
The weather had changed in an instant, where there had been sun there now was a rainy sky outside The Halls giant walls. The instant the sun had disappeared, the cold, which was lurking beneath the warmth of the early spring, had started gnawing furiously at Eldar's old bones, and the pain was still getting harder. He closed the book which was lying in front of him and stood up shakily to move closer to the chimney which was already blazing with fire. He stared into the dancing flames and let out a deep sigh of relief. This day really has been something. The little prince was now settled at his mothers breast, and Lady Medara slept the sleep of every delivering woman. He smiled at the memory of the baby's first sight. Yes, there could be no doubt. The newborn was to become the next Lord. Even the angels had greeted him. He remembered the child waving and smiling at the holy creatures, which hovered at the bedside. He has to be the next Lord. But there could also be trouble, he thought, directing his mental walk into another direction. The three other princes won't be very delighted, to hear about this. Eldar turned his back to the fire and started across the room to the heavy door. They had to get used to this fact, he thought. They simply had to.
... quiet, child. Don't you know? Every story has to begin somewhere. There can't be something just be there for your entertainment. This story starts here, and will go the long way to over there, if you like it or not, for that's the way a story works ... not thrilling, not thrilling, ha, ... what do you know, about thrilling? Thrilling's just a word, and there's nothing as thrilling as the truth, ... just be patient, you'll see ... now, where was I? Ah, I know ...
"You are a foolish old man!"
"And you are to behave yourself, young ,man!"
"Why should I? I am already seventeen."
"Already seventeen? Oh that's great. He's already seventeen. Has everybody heard it? He is already seventeen!"
Small sounds of laughter were heard in the room, as some of the older men, snorted into their humps of beer, ore ale. Zand stared into the reddened face of Hamil, the Master of the Guards and clenched his fists with anger.
"I have worked as hard as the other men," he demanded "so why shouldn't I be allowed to have a hump of beer?"
"Because," sighed Hamil "You are a boy, and boys are not allowed to sit with the men. You know the rules."
"But I..."
"But me no buts, or I will get angry. And even if you are seventeen, you are not a men yet."
"As the Prince of The Southern Reigns I order you to let me drink a glass of beer." Zand shouted, and regretted it the instant. Angry shouts arose across the room, and some of the men shook their heads. Hamils face turned pale. His lips became as thin as a knife's blade and he lent closer to Zand.
"You dare? You little ... I tell you something, You'll go over there, fetch a beer, and I will beat your ass so you won't be able to use it anymore as you were used to, at leas for the rest of your life." Hamil hissed. The cheery laughter arose again as Zand staggered back, his face contorted with horror and shock, but suddenly his face brightened at a sight behind Hamils head. He nodded and went away, without looking at The Master of the Guards.
"Still trouble with the kids, Hamil? It seems that there hasn't been any change here," a laughing voice whispered into Hamils ears. With the trained reflex of an old veteran he grabbed the stranger with his left hand, and with a quick turn he faced the smiling face of Dialah. She grinned.
"Your the same as ever." She said. Hamil laughed.
"You too. Sneekin' up behind me. I could've killed you, as a matter of habit."
"You could, but you didn't," the girl replied "I hope this is no sign for weakness. We can't afford a weak Master of the Guards. But you do get older, I have to admit, now that I see your face that close."
"Don't you try to tease me, little girl, for it won't work." Hamil said smiling brightly, she hadn't changed. "I still hold you in my iron grip." Dialah's face split with a smile, she made a simple movement with her right hand, brought her left foot up and turned herself around. Hamil was forced to let her go, but was, because of the speed, also turned around, and he lost his balance as Dialah hit him on the back. Hamil hit the floor, and remaind there until the laughter had died away. Dialah got on her knees and helped him up, while he was muttering.
"You have taught me well, Master Hamil."
"I haven't taught you, you where spying." he replied.
"Nevertheless I learned from you. You have been a good teacher."
"Good teacher..." Hamil muttered, "the greatest fear of a teacher, the strongest urge of a master has now come true - I have created a monster!"
Then he rounded up on her and took her in his strong arms.
"You wouldn't believe me when I tell you that I've missed you, wouldn't you?" he asked.
Dialah laughed "Of course I would believe you," she sniggered, "everybody would miss his only equal opponent."
"Ha!"
... Oh Zand, yes, he will be important once, but not now. ... What? Why he wasn't allowed to drink beer? Isn't this obvious, dear? Because he is a boy, and boys aren't allowed to drink. That's the way it is in the Northern Lands. ... I know he is seventeen, but it is a rule, which is also binding for a prince. ... yes, he is a prince, and he is also Hamils son, but what use would a rule have it wasn't kept? ...
The cold couldn't stop Dialah from roaming around through the labyrinth of halls, stairways, dungeons and corridors, of which The Hall was constructed. The castle had grown over the centuries, as every Lord and every Lady had added some buildings, changed some rooms, and done this and that, so that now The Hall looked from the outside quite like an overgrown jellyfish which rested on the steep hills above Dallad Bay. As the centre of the Southern Reigns it had special alleys which were used only at official occasions, but much more of the small and commonly used ways, which sometimes, depending on how frequently they were used, were either bright and clean, or small and dirty. Dialah preferred the last ones. In this passways there always seemed to be busy people, buzzing around like bees in a hive. The servants, cleansmen and women, the guards, and the Others. Dialah frowned, she had never found out what the Others were, or where they'd come from. But they where here. She couldn't even describe what makes them different from all the other people in The Hall. But there was something about their movements, and the gaze of their eyes, that made Dialah shiver. When she'd asked her father, he just put it down as the usual questioning, and seeing ghosts of his daughter.
"There is no such thing in The Hall, my dear," he had said and closed the subject. But now as Dialah was back she seemed to see even more of the Others. She wondered why this could be, but then she found her in front of her oldest brothers rooms and decided to greet him. She opened the door and ...
... What? What? Hm... no that's not the way it should work. You'll expect something more than it will turn out, but something has happened to that story ... I don't know, maybe we have to see how it will develop...
... entered the room. Dark colours dominated it. Cushions were spread on the divans, and in the chimney there was a fire burning merrily. But Dialah had a strange feeling. The door on the other end of the room burst open and her brother came out. When he sensed her he sopped, and looked in her direction.
"Who is it then? Didn't I tell that I wanted to be not disturbed?"
"I'm very sorry to take your precious time, your Highness, but there is a beautiful Lady, who wants to see you." Dialah said with changed voice.
Her brother turned, and frowning, came closer.
"A beautiful Lady?" he asked. "Isn't it a bit early for her to come," he continued to himself. Then he laid his gaze upon Dialah, and as every time she felt his blind stare, and saw his milky eyes she wasn't entirely sure that he really couldn't see.
"Dabar, it's me," she said in her normal voice, "it should have been a joke, I didn't know you were awaiting someone."
He shook his head, but smiled,
"It has to be you, now I think I found that piping voice quite disturbing." He turned around and signed her to follow him. As he led her into his working room, the young woman noticed some changes in his brothers dust-clean rooms. Small things stood on other tables, books were in other shelves then she remembered. But the thing she was most surprised at, was the fact that her brother wasn't alone, but had company. The tall man stood up as they entered. Dabar waved vaguely at the stranger and said: "This is my ... teacher, yes I think we should put it that way, his name is Pyrat. She's my sister." He introduced her, and approached the table, where many books and maps lay spread open. Dialah tried to follow him, but without noticing him move, suddenly stood in her way and took her hand with a smile.
"I'm very delighted to encounter a woman of your beauty," he said and kissed her hand. His head was bold, and the skin sallow, and pale. He was quite old but seemed to radiate power. He let her hand, still smiling, go.
"And what was your name," he wanted to know, "your brother didn't mention it." Dabar was turning his back on them but gave a snort, while don't bothering to face them.
"Dialah," She started, and then "and what are you teaching my brother?"
"Reading," Pyrat said smiling "only reading."
"But Dabar is, I mean he can't see, I think, at least everybody knows that you have to see to be able to read."
"Oh there are other ways of seeing which have no need of the human eye." Pyrate announced vaguely.
"You mean, you teach him magic?!" Dialah couldn't believe what she had heard.
"Oh, I wouldn't use such a dangerous word for the abilities I'm trying to get your brother accustomed to," he said and turned to the younger man at the table.
"Don't you think so, Dabar?"
Dabar let out a hoarse laugh, but didn't say anything. Dialah looked around with growing confusion. It was true that Dabar has been a little strange since she knew him, but now he seemed a totally different person.
"I think," she began but was interrupted by Pyrat.
"Oh, do you really have to go? What a pity, for it was a great pleasure to meet you." The he turned around and continued showing Dabar something in the open books. Dialah slowly left the room, and when outside started running.
The Hall was buzzing with excitement. Today the new prince and future Lord would be presented to the people. The ceremony of the naming should take place in the centre of The Hall. The immense room was filled with candles and the throne on the higher end of it shone like polished gold. The altar table was laid with flowers and gifts for THE ONE, and a growing crowd filled the Sanctuary with chatter and whispers. Then the giant doors swung back and the choir started to sing. The Lady stepped in. Dressed in a dark, red gown, and carrying the baby she nodded to the surrounders and walked to the throne. Following her were her other four children. Lined by age and gender, they followed her mother and took seat at the lower end of the throne. When the noise of the people died away Lady Medara stood up, holding the baby up and announced the boys name.
"He is Ilail." Then se stepped to the altar and laid him down. Then she kneeled before the stone and bowed her head. The people in the hall did the same, and as everybody was kneeling The Lady started to speak.
"You, who are THE ONE, accept this child as gift, and son. He will be the Lord to come, bless him with your guidance and your love." As she spoke a ray of sun fell through the window above the altar and bathed the child in light. Then some flower petals appeared in the light and fell on the child's bare skin. The boy laughed and stretched his hands in the air trying to reach something. As the Lady and the People looked up they saw a blazing figure hovering in the light. The figure spread two snow white wings and smiled at the child. The crowed made sounds of disbelieve and honour towards the saintly creature. Then he came down kissed the child on its forehead and sealed it with the Sign. As the angel tunred to the mother and bowed to her a smile appeared on the faces of the people in The Sanctuary. But the angel seemed irritated by something. He turned his head and stared in one of the corners then suddenly he turned his head stretched out his hand and cried: "NO!" As Medara turned to see what was causing this disturbance, she felt a seering pain in her breast and heard an uproar of voices. When she looked down herself she saw an arrow sticking in her breast, the wound spilling her dress with blood. When she looked up she saw Dialah running towards her. Stretching out her hand towards her daughter, she collapsed.
Mhm. Yes, that's right. Just put the cushion a little way up. Thank you dear. ... Oh no, you've got that wrong. Because Dabar had changed it doesn't mean that he is the villain. ... Yes, ... Why? ... I don't know, it is true that the story seems to go in one certain direction, but doesn't this be the whole thing about stories, they have to go into a certain direction ... Now, where have I stopped, ... Ah, I think it is time for a little change of sight...
The lights had faded
and only the Child of Light
could be able to return it to the dark world.
But as nobody knows her,
who would ask her?
THE NORTHERN TALES
BOOK IV
TWO
The snow was piling up against the walls of the hut, and the wind howled like a raging wolf. The cold tried hard to get into the shelter of the solid stone walls, but couldn't find a way in. Inside the small lodge was a fire burning. The smell of herbs and wax filled the single room. An other odour was there too. Gentle as battleaxe it hit the human nose and burned its way right up into the brain. Goats. Five or six of the animals lingered beneath the table, in front of the chimney. The old woman crossed the room and put the kettle on the fire. She stirred it once and added some ingredients. Then she walked to the closed door, unlocked it and stood there, waiting. After some minutes she nodded and opened it. The man outside just had raised his hand to the knock and was now faced with the fact that there was an open door instead of solid wood.
"So, come in then," the old woman said, "The heat gets out." She moved back to the fire, took a bowl out of a cupboard above it and filled it with the content of the kettle. She directed the stranger to the table shooed two goats away and put the bowl down. She signed him to eat.
"We will talk afterwards."
... You'll see, you'll see, ...
... Oh, shut up! I don't know what is happening someone seems to change the story. ... this not the story I was used to tell anymore... I don't know, you have to wait and see, as I, ...
"So," she said. The stranger raised his head and looked into her wrinkly face. 'She could be smiling,' he thought. But who could say. The woman's face was so gnarled and twisted that nobody could tell the look she gave you. He cleared his throat.
"I've had to come," he started.
"Who sent you?"
"You know who..." she cut him short and rounded up on him. With a voice as cold as ice she hissed: "I damn well know who sent you, but I want to hear the name. I want to hear HIS name here in my hut. I want to hear HIS name here where I've got power."
The stranger rose from the table and said:
"Hold your tongue, stupid women. What do you know about HIS plans?"
The old woman sniggered: "What I have to know I know, what I need to see I see and what he plans is like an open book for my mind."
"You crazy old bat," the stranger shouted and backed away from her. The old woman laughed out loud.
"Old bat, yes maybe that would be it then." She waved her hand and darkness seemed to grow right in the centre of the room. Cold rushed in through unseen windows, and the stranger felt an iron ring closing in on his chest. And as the pain seemed to be no more bareable it ended. He was still gasping for breath, but the woman stood in the centre of the room and watched him as had nothing happened.
"You," the stranger coughed, "who are YOU, that you have that power?
"You really don't know, don't you" she asked quietly. And as he shook his head, she sighed deep and bid him to sit down again. "This will take some time to explain," she put a wooden cup in front of him and filled it with red wine, "take a drink you'll understand, sooner or later..."
...my, my, it's all gone woof. ... What? Right, ... no I still don't know it, but I think I'm going to like that story, ... we'll see, we'll see my dear, have some patience, that's the way a story goes. Telling it changes it. Changing a story is by words. This even works with history. But this story feels different, ... I'm sorry but I can't explain it any better, ... Oh, do you think so? ... Did a nice job of thinking on your own then, ... patience, dear, just wait and see ...
The fire had burnt down and the stranger sat quietly at the wooden table. The old woman had gone to fetch some water from the well outside, and had refused to let him help her. The stranger looked at the dirty room around him and shook his head in disbelief.
'How could she ...?' he wondered, 'she's an old woman, and nothing more.' But he had to admit that she, indeed, had great powers and she knew everything about HIM. Yes, HE, that would be another problem. Why hadn't he told him as HE sent him to get her. Was it true what the woman had told him? As the door opened ha made an decision.
"I will not return," he said calmly. The old woman looked slightly startled.
"I Understood that your job, was to take me to HIM?"
"It was, but as i agreed, I didn't know..."
"You, have to go."
"If you say so, I will not dare to argue."
The old woman smiled. The she took his hand in hers and said with a very calm voice: "You know who I am, and you know who your master will be if the prophecy is right. So you see the way we have to act." He looked straight into her face and nodded.
"So we have to do what is asked of us."
"You are right, Mother," he said sadly, and the woman smiled at this form of address.
... just be quiet, please, ... listen ... I, I have to keep on talking, ... yes the story seems to be changed, ... no, it has to be somebody who knows it, but wants to ... I don't even want to think about it, ...
The death of the Lady came as a shock for the inhabitants of the Hall. As nobody had found the assassin until now, it was very likely that he was not meant to be found. In the labyrinth of the Hall's cellars, stables and corridors it would be easy to let somebody disappear. Many a man was found some years after he has been seen for the last time, and very few of them were alive. So nobody wasted any thought at the killer, and as the search for him was continued the focus of attention was at the new Lord, who, right now, was a source of speculation.
Dialah had to take care of her youngest brother now, as she was the only woman in the family. The boy seemed to be fine, as he was too young to notice the attention he got from his brothers and sister. His brothers had visited him. Yes, the only one who didn't seem to care about him was Debar, and this was what startled Dialah. He wasn't even at the Naming, and his teacher Pyrat too hadn't shown up. Dialah took her youngest brother in her arms and rocking him gently, walked to the window. Humming quietly at him she looked out of it, into the fading light of the evening. The landscape was bathed in golden light and dark shadows filled the gaps between the trees of the near forests. Dialah watched silently, patted Ilail on the cheek, and took him back to his cradle. She kissed his forehead and pulled the blankets around him. Then she returned to the window and watched the stars lighting up on the darkening sky. And suddenly she had the strong feeling that something terrible would happen, and that Ilail would be the centre of it. She put her hand onto the cold glass of the window and wished that her mother could be here ... now.
... I have to ... no ... Hm? Oh, you've noticed, ... Er, I don't know, but I think this story is ... quite unusual, ... Hm? Would you just start thinking for yourself, you should use the brain in your head, ... I will continue, of course, ...
Pyrat opened the hidden door in his bedroom, and disappeared into the darkness behind it. He didn't light a candle, he had no need of light. He has gone this way before. Many times. He smiled in the dark, and counted the steps beneath his feet. After a short way he felt the draught which came out of one of the innumerable corridors which were hidden in the darkness. He turned left and started counting the steps. After fifteen steps he stopped and touched a stone in the wall. A secret door opened and he slipped through the gap. 'And now,' he thought smiling, 'I'm home.' And in the darkness he started laughing.
Meanwhile Dabar was counting his books. He had many books and since sometime he was able to read them too. He opened one of them and started reading. His blind eyes stared unmoving onto the pages as the letters shone up inside his head. He smiled. Nobody could understand what it means for someone who was not able to see, to read a book. Pyrat had taught him, and he had been kind and understanding. Pyrat was his friend. But there was also something strangely familiar upon him. Dabar could not describe it, it was a feeling, a tingling in the spine, but nothing you could name. He sighed deeply as he reached the end of the first page, and closed the book. It was exhausting for him to use magic for him. He was not used to use it. But he was getting stronger every day. Soon he would be able to read a whole book without becoming tired and getting a headache. And if he could read a book he could everything, absolutely everything. And Pyrat would help him.
Hm?! ... No I don't like him, too ... who told you this rubbish? ... the northern tales are more complicated than anything you can imagine. ... Of course it is just a story but every story, every legend has a truth of its own ...
In the darkness of the night Dialah was staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. She lay motionless on her bed. After a while she sat up and stood up. Silently she dressed herself and walked slowly to the door, which let into the next room where Ilail was sleeping. She watched the baby in his cradle and sighed, afterwards she left the room and headed to the kitchens. The corridor was lit only by some candles in their holdings on the walls and the flames threw moving shadows on the walls. As she passed some doors she could hear the nightly sounds of the Hall. Someone snoring, a child crying and the soothing voice of its mother, the sound of couples sharing pleasures, the sound of life. She moved silently and didn't pay attention to them, she just wanted to fetch some water. As she passed the door of her oldest brother's room she stopped. From the inside she could hear muffled voices, and they seemed to argue. She moved to the door and put her ear onto the old wood.
"It has to be done," she heard Pyrat say, and hoarse laugh from her brother.
"It has to be done? Pyrat, I have trust you, but you are ...."
"My Lord," Pyrat said in a clam voice, "it has to be done. Can't you see? Can't you understand that there have to be made sacrifices?" Dialah listened and fear rose in her heart. 'What was going on in there?'
"You demon," she heard Dabar cry, "You can't do that! The child is no harm to you nor me, why do you want me to kill my youngest brother?"
"He, now, is no harm but he may be a senior problem for our plans, my Lord," Pyrat demanded, "It has to be done! Think of all you could win if you end his life now..." Dialah backed away and started running back to her room. As she reached it she was panting for breath, but didn't start to catch it again. Insted she started opening drawers and wardrobes. She started packing clothes and blancets into one of her bags and as she had finished she ran into the other room to fetch the baby. As she took him in her arms he opened his eyes and stared at her. She kissed Ilail onto the forehead, grab her belongings and left the Hall.
...that doesn't sound good, my, my,...er,...you think that, no this can't be,...but, possible, I have to admit, possible indeed,... so you've started thinking on your own at last, that's something good today, ... but I'm afraid that will be some changes, that you won't understand,...
As the iron fist of winter
held the land in it's hand,
the sun shone through one
desperate heart
The Northern Tales
Book II
THREE
The wind was tearing on Dialah's hair, and snowflakes wee already covering her coat. The heavy leather was soaked with water from the melting snow, and the sheer weight of it and the child in her hand, was tugging her down. Swaying she took one step after the other. Uphill, away from the plains, further, further away from them, she kept thinking, ignoring the wails of the child. When was the last rest? Only an hour ago? Or last evening? Dialah's face was reddened from the cold, and her eyes were tearing because of the icy winds. She was tired, so tired, but she had to get on. She had to keep the child safe. She had to reach..., she had to reach,... yes, somewhere. But it was a far way to go, and she was tired, so tired.
...Oh not, please, don't make me to,...
The old woman put one more sheet of wood onto the fire in the chimney, and put some of the boiling liquid into a small, wooden cup and returned to the sleeping girl. Carefully, not to waste a drop she poured the liquid into the girls mouth. The lips moved slightly as the steaming draught filled her mouth. She swallowed. The old woman nodded, and patted her on the forehead, then got up and moved to the other end of the room, where a small cradle was standing. She rocked it softly. When she was sure that both of her guests were sleeping she stepped into the middle of the room, held out both hands, and vanished.
...why I am crying? You cannot understand, no you can't,... I will not try to explain, but you will see, soon,...er, yes, that's true,... why do you think I am afraid?,... You are right, I am afraid, I am afraid, like I've never been before,...Please,... open the door, there is someone outside, and waiting, for... me,...
Zand was sure he had made no sound, so why did Pyrat act almost as if he was sure that there was an intruder. He cowered down deeper behind the pile of ancient books, and waited. Pyrat started preparing something Zand couldn't see and a faint sizzling noise indicated that Pyrat was cooking something. Zand looked over one of the bookpiles but could only see the old mans back. He had disliked his brothers teacher from the first moment on and was sure that Pyrat felt as much the same about him. Pyrat waved one hand at the door and muttered a few words under his breath. Zand didn't understand them and was sure he didn't even want to. Pyrat lit some candles and stepped in the middle of the burning circle. Zand cowered even deeper behind the books and wished he hadn't come here. There was something going on about what he shouldn't know. Pyrat raised his arms and lowered his bald head, no sound was escaping his lips, he simply stood there, concentrating, waiting. He remained in this position for some minutes, and Zand felt something cold rush into the closed room, touching his neck and making him shiver. He held his breath, and watched in horror as the man's robes started billowing and the light of the candles grew darker and darker. The shadows seemed to flow from the corners and merged in the middle of the circle, which was exactly where Pyrat was standing. The dark seemed to form a second shape around him for a moment and he stepped back to reveal an other man standing in front of Pyrat. Pyrat bowed his head even lower and get on his knees, not daring to look at the newcomer, whose face was hidden behind a helmet of gold and silver. As he spoke Zand had the indistinct feeling of someone, no something, he corrected himself, speaking in his mind. He couldn't hear the voice but it sounded in his head.
"So what do you report me today, old man?" the newcomer asked.
"Your highness," Pyrat started but was cut short by the other.
"I know WHO I am!" he said briskly, "But do tell me what I want to know."
"The child is gone, and the girl too," the kneeling Pyrat croaked, and Zand realised that the man was afraid of the stranger.
"What can you tell me about the girl?"
"I, ... She,... I don't know how she should fit in your plan. It was not planned that she would interfere with the Powers of the Tales. She,..."
"This has to be the woman's work," the other said slowly, and then turning to Pyrat: "Search for her!" And without anything he vanished. It wasn't that he grew paler until there was nothing left, it was more as if he had never been there. Pyrat was now lying on the floor, breathing heavily. His fists where hammering onto the wooden Planks of the room, and unarticulated sounds came over his lips. Finally he raised, and for the fraction of an second Zand looked in a face struck with horror, and fright. But the one thing Zand would remember for a very long time was that in his eyes there was a hunger burning, a hunger for something nobody could ever understand.
Kommentare
Lucia schrieb am 2007-03-20 18:32:54:
Hi, Darkangel!
Wow, I love your story. I loved it from the first word on. It's very well written and your English is phantastic. Why do you write so well in English? I'd like to read more about the Northern Tales, please continue writing!
Lucia
daxi_hase@hotmail.com schrieb:
hi! very, very good story! exciting, full of suspense and well written, but a little bit confusing. i hope you continue writting 'cause i would love to read an installment!! where do you get the ideas for such a story fom?
hkjhgjkfhg.fsdgshf.de schrieb:
HI! WOW! wie lange hast du dafür gebraucht ??? hast du die geschichte selnst geschireben (erfunden) ??? I think the sotry is very good. Respect !
ksfldkjfaölkdsjfökdjöf.de schrieb:
Wow ! deine geschichhte ist suuuuuuper !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hast du das selbst geschrieben !!! Du bist begabt !!!!!!!!!! It 't a very , very goooooooood story !!!!!!!! Schreib weiter !!!!!!!!!1 andere geschichten du bist wirklich begabt !!!!!!!!1
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