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Scifi and Fantasy Forum: Writer's Showcase: SF/F Short Stories:
"Blood Springs Eternal" (not about vampires!)
"Blood Springs Eternal" (not about vampires!)
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(This is the beginning of a fantasy novel I am working on. There's a lot more, so let me know if you want me to keep posting or find a new hobby.)
"Blood Springs Eternal" (tentative title)
Broken bones crawling with blood-sucking beetles, marrow-seeking rodents, and other scavengers of the night filled the battlefield to capacity. The corpses were of the human variety, some with crushed skulls, severed limbs, small puncture wounds in their necks or arms or sides. The stench was atrocious; the stink of decaying flesh and drying blood was almost overbearing. But to some, it was the smell of victory.
Two living species walked among these slain warriors. They kicked aside the lifeless bodies as they made their way across the pool of the dead. They felt no remorse for having slaughtered these men, nor did they feel the least bit nauseous walking among them now. These men, these fierce and courageous warriors, had crumbled at their feet like children who know they have done something wrong and must be punished accordingly. Not a one of them deserved to have tears shed on his behalf.
Mala, one of the two taking a tour through the carnage, paused to survey her surroundings and pat herself on the back for a job well done. She was the Empress of the hybrids, the supreme ruler of her kind who answered only to the Goddess. She had led the fight against these human males since the beginning, and only now did she truly feel her dying breed had a chance to conquer this world. To thwart a full-on attack from the Karrp Army, to kill many of them and force the rest into retreat, was a giant turning point in this war for the hybrids. They had this thing by the balls, and Mala would not let her grip loosen easily.
"Pandora," Mala addressed the girl at her side. "Tell me, what do you think of the things you have seen here today?"
Pandora, a young and most beautiful hybrid, with luscious dark green skin and hair that could easily be confused with a blazing inferno, took a second to compose a response. "I think," she said, "that we should have saved some for lunch."
Mala was at once amused by young Pandora's reply and angry with her for not taking the question seriously. Instead of laughing or inflicting pain on her, Mala simply repeated the question.
This time, Pandora's answer was satisfactory: "I think the battle was fought well by both sides. The humans tried, they did, but they were certainly no match for you, my Empress, and the others who fought with you. A great battle and a greater victory, I believe we now have the upper hand. I could only hope to be as good a warrior as you someday."
"And so you shall be," Mala boasted, oblivious to the sarcasm hidden beneath Pandora's words. "Under my guidance, I will mold you into the next great empress. You may even surpass me, if you play your cards right."
"Believe me, I plan to," she snipped.
A lovely woman, skin bright red and spotted with tiny black dots, slim and muscular, came upon the two from the east. She held a wide grin on her face and seemed quite excited.
"Empress, what a magnificent battle!" She slapped her hands together and performed a little dance in a small circle around Mala and Pandora. "We took down over half of them and not a one of us was even wounded! I feel so invigorated, so alive! And hungry. ••••, I wish one of these males was fit to eat."
"Calm yourself, Kali." Mala planted her hands firmly on Kali's shoulders and held her in place. "Gather the others and tell them to head back to Sanctum. I have a surprise waiting for all of you."
"A feast!" Kali shouted. "Tell me it's a feast! Children, is it little children? Oh, I just love the way their little bodies melt in my arms as I drain the life from them. Tell me it's children, I must know, please?"
"Kali," Mala stared her straight in the eye and in a low hiss whispered sternly, "Go." Kali hurried away.
"I like her," Pandora stated. "She's fun."
"She's annoying. I'd kill her if she didn't have such a knack for seducing humans."
"What's the surprise?"
"You'll find out with everyone else."
"But I want to know now. As future empress, I should be awarded some special privileges."
"You have special privileges. Like being allowed to live."
"I could report you to the Goddess," Pandora threatened. "I'd claim you treat me unfairly and refuse to teach me about being empress. She'd have you thrown into the sea with the flesheaters."
"You do that," Mala said.
They started on their way again, out of the bundle of bodies and into the forest. Sanctum was a days walk from here, and although she would never admit it, Mala wanted to get home before the humans regrouped and came back more ruthless than ever. In all actuality, she was surprised her legionnaires had come out the victors of this scrap with the Karrp Army. They had always been the army's equals in battle, but never had they won, least of all in such a way.
More than half of them, we slaughtered. Mala thought as she and Pandora trudged on through the dank forest. None of us hurt. Two days ago, they were crushing us, yet now we seem to be in the lead. And what has caused this sudden turn in events? What has made us so powerful we can fight for hours with nary a scratch to show for it? I don't know, but I aim to find out.
~~~~~~~
Populated by nearly ten thousand -- since this morning, make that nine thousand seven hundred and thirty-four -- Homo sapiens, guarded by a humongous, looming granite wall which surrounds its circumference, the town of Karrp serves as a safe haven for all who enter it. A safe haven from abominations that infest the land, such as sandcritters, shadowlarks, and redrodents. As of late, Karrp has also protected its inhabitants from the vile and most lowly hybrids, and acted as a fortress from which the Karrp Army has launched many attacks aimed in their general direction.
On this night, it was being used as an infirmary for the wounded Karrp soldiers.
Inside the great wall, passed a clutter of finely constructed marble and brick houses, behind a gaggle of shops and markets, up and a little bit to the left of a golden statue of the renowned warrior Sir Gaven Arkady, rests the Prospector's manor. The Prospector founded Karrp and has since ran the town as efficiently as possible. He is the man who oversaw the construction of this fine town through the midst of the Decade of Death, and even claims to have aided Sir Gaven Arkady in the Battle of the Red Sea in his spare time. A man of great wealth and prestige, full of kindness and generosity, the Prospector is also a weasly-looking old coot with shifty eyes and a pocket full of ••••••••.
Commander Romny highly recommends that no man trust the Prospector. A recommendation that is often followed, considering Romny is the Prospector's younger brother, and who would know better than he?
For the time being, Commander Romny and many of his men have stationed themselves in the Prospector's home. The rest of the wounded and exhausted soldiers have taken refuge in the beds of some of the more generous and empathetic town's people.
Presently, Commander Romny has seated himself in a large arm chair decorated with the grotesque fur of a shadowlark (which the Prospector swears he dispatched with his bare hands). The chair was so great, it dwarfed the size of the man sitting in it, who easily stood at six feet four inches. Romny was a muscular man, a solemn man, and one hell of a leader. His skill at motivating his troops to give one hundred and ten percent in every battle was matched by no one. His talents with a double-bladed sword were also coveted, and his unbreakable spirit and optimism led the Karrp Army to many triumphant defeats against the hybrids.
Until now.
Not even his strength, cunning, skill, and optimism could take down the hybrids this time. They had fought with rediscovered diligence and exuberance. They had bulked up, learned more attack and defense techniques. They even seemed to outnumber the army, although there were five hundred Karrp soldiers and merely one hundred hybrids. The hybrids had caught Romny off guard, and he hated himself for not being fully prepared for the counterattack.
"You must stop this sulking, brother." The Prospector ambled into the room, lugging behind him a cart full of pastries and fine wines. "It's getting quite pathetic, really."
"I am not sulking!" Romny slammed his fist onto the table in front of him, causing the Prospector to stop in his tracks. "I do not sulk! I am merely plotting the next phase in our attacks. I am thinking."
"Thinking about the beating the hybrids just dealt you," the Prospector mumbled under his breath, then quickly set about organizing the pastries on the table before Romny could respond to his comment.
After a moment's silence, Romny inquired, "Where are your servants?"
"I gave them the day off." Romny's brother chortled at the absurdity of the answer he had given. "Where do you think they've gone? They've fled, like half the people in this doomed town."
"'Doomed town?'" Romny raised his brow in question. He had never once heard Karrp be referred to as a "doomed town." Karrp was the safest place in the world to be, and it was his sole duty to keep it that way. Surely, he was doing his job well. Surely, his brother had meant to say "darned good town."
"Yes, doomed town," the Prospector repeated. "You think with all that has transpired -- with this war at full throttle -- that Karrp remains a 'safe haven'? This is ground zero, especially after what you . . . after what happened today."
Romny dared not acknowledge his brother's implied accusations that he had failed his town. He took deep, steady breathes, attempting to quell the rage swelling inside of him and to control his temper. He should save this rage for the hybrids. They would surely crumble beneath it.
As they should have done this morning.
But something went wrong.
And it could never be undone.
"Well," the Prospector glanced around the table at the empty chairs, "call your men. I'm sure they will have an appetite."
"They've eaten." The commander replied, reaching for the fruit croissant that had been placed before him.
"'They've eaten'? 'They've eaten'!?" The Prospector threw his hands up in exasperation. "And just why did you fail to let me in on this little tidbit before I prepared these delicious morsels? Oh, yes, that's right. I remember now. Because that's what you do best. You fail. You are a failure, little brother, you've failed me, this town, and --"
"That's enough!" Romny shot up from his chair, knocking it to the floor with a hard THUNK. He pushed the Prospector's bony and weak body back up against a wall, pinned his arms to his sides, gripped his wizened neck with a huge, blood-stained hand.
"If you weren't my blood . . .¡¨ Romny's eyes flooded with the need to break every bone in his brother's body, his veins pulsed with the urge to maim. "If you weren't my brother, this wall would be painted a brand new shade of crimson. And if ever you mouth off to me in that manner again, you will no longer be my brother. You will be my paint brush. Am I understood?"
All the Prospector could do was nod, and even that proved quite a task with Romny's fist clenched tightly around his neck.
"Good." The Commander released his brother, waited for the coughing and gagging to ebb, then ordered, "Assemble my men, those in good health, in the foyer. We will devise a plan to crush Mala and her legion of disgraceful hybrids. I. Will. Not. Fail."
~~~~~~
He stood by the window in the tallest tower of his enormous castle, looking out over the land. The dark green hills rose and fell, rose and fell, until they met the horizon and blended with the setting sun. The sun's rays broke through the numerous trees which made up the Serpentine Forest and splashed over his hideous face. It seemed, to him, ironic that something so beautiful as the sun setting on the world should be looked upon so fondly by something as ugly as he.
He knew how monstrous his features were, how his outward physical appearance chilled those who dared to look, how little children cowered at the sound of his voice, how the nightmares experienced by the humans in this land most always included his portrait. It pleased him greatly.
The ability to turn his unfortunate likeness into a powerful weapon with which to dominate all species was something that came quite naturally to him. Each of his horrific features served as an invaluable tool to strike terror in the hearts of his victims, and he knew how to manipulate them for full affect.
His eyes, sunken deep beneath his grotesque forehead and thick, dark eyebrows, were said to contain the power of hypnosis. They were blood red, vicious, and sinister. His ears were nothing but tiny holes in the side of his head. Peeling gray flesh covered his skull as thinly as possible without completely diminishing. He had no lips, just clumps of boils to serve as a guard for his jagged yellow teeth.
His face was the thing most humans feared, but it had no real power except to shock. The rest of him was what people really should have dreaded.
A muscular torso and arms, draped by the same gray skin as his face, contained strength surpassed by none. With those arms, he could lift four horses at a time, one in each arm. Sharp red scales trailed down his spine, able to split a human finger in two with the slightest touch. Below his stomach began the legs of a beast. Buried under mounds of dark, black hair, they propelled him faster than a redrodent's eight legs could carry it. In fact, he had once hunted down a redrodent, ran it in circles through the Serpentine Forest for three days (though he could have had it in less than an hour), and ate it alive, just for fun.
Now, he turned his attention away from the day's metamorphose into night, to finish what he had started. He crossed to the center of the small tower room. Painted with the dried blood of five sacrificial human males, a large circle took up the bulk of this space. He took his place inside the circle and sat cross legged, his four mighty arms raised to the old ceiling. He shut his eyes, took two deep breaths, and as his body relaxed, his eyes began to see that which did not exist in this part of the world, but which occurred far on the other side of the Serpentine Forest.
The battle ground was foggy in the twilight, but visibility was still clear enough to see the hundreds of decomposing corpses lining the field. He examined the scene from the remoteness of his tower, delighting in the fact that he had succeeded in his endeavors. He was quite proud of himself and of Mala.
The scene broke apart as he slowly opened his eyes. He flattened all four palms against the cold floor, and began swaying to and fro, letting the mystical power of the circle wash over him. After a few moments of silence as he focused himself on the task at hand, he commenced the incantation:
"Fire of the Anointed,
Blood of the fearful,
Faith of the Goddess,
Break through these barriers.
Enter this night.
Bring forth your power unto me.
Bring forth your power unto the hybrids.
Lift your people up beyond their means,
Empower them.
By the Light of the Watchful,
By the strength of the serpent,
Guide me to the Chosen One.
Hear my plea,
I beg of you,
I beg of you!"
A low rumble like that of thunder could be heard far off in the distance. Lightening split the clouds and struck the tower hard. The entire structure started to shake in rhythm with the approaching roar of the storm. Rain poured from the heavens, slanted through the open window, and puddled on the tower floor. The lightening struck the tower again with greater force, the wind blew like a tempest, the rain's assault refused to cease, the thunder continued its deafening noise.
He remained in a trance-like state, chanting, undaunted by the violet storm.
The storm waged on like a fleet of battleships bent on taking down the tower. Thunder played its percussion symphony, the rain flooded the earth, the wind spit out gusts of air as cold and intrusive as ice. The lightning crashed into the tower, sending bits of it crumbling to the ground. The lightening then forced its way through the top of the tower, the wind pushed against it, and the night moaned angrily as the top tore off with an odious CREAK! and went tumbling down to the soil below.
He looked up at the sound, a smile contorting his already nightmarish face into something even more vile. A blinding beam of light shot down through the nonexistent roof and connected with him. He screamed out in pain and delectation, embracing the electric shocks that passed through him, taking in all of the power that the Goddess deemed him worthy to receive.
When it was over, when the sudden storm had released its death grip on the tower, when the light had left his body, he was sprawled face down in the middle of the circle. Barely breathing, motionless, scarred and burnt, and a dead-ringer for a lifeless corpse, he was swelling with pain that seemed to get worse by the second.
He loved every minute of it.
His plot was quickly unfolding, and soon, his pain would be dwarfed by what the humans would inevitably endure.
...wow.
Cool! (excuse the foolish reaction). Magnetic story-telling; I couldn't stop reading! I'm a lazy reader -- if something doesn't grab me right from the get go, I won't read it (unless its very short.) You had me hooked right from the get go. I love your discriptions and style of story-telling. Imaginative, energetic and involving. It deffently is publish-worthy, so to speak.
But, I hate to be crittical (and I really do because I disagree with it!), but for it to be taken seriously as a novel by the publisher, you'll have to make two corrections. (It's lousy because it may take away from your natural form, but, as they say: "That's the way it is"
Fistly, you'll have to expand your paragraphs, add more depth of description. I love the way it is, but to a publisher, it would read more like a story summery than a novel.
Secondly, your descriptions will need to be made more SERIOUS, if not, SOLEMN in form. Man...I hate saying this, because I like your form, BUT...
They would view things like "ate it alive, just for fun" to be more young adult story-writing. It'll have to be re-done like, say,"ate it alive, bite by savage bite. He took a deep pleasure in the masticating." And also like with the line, "With those arms, he could lift four horses at a time, one in each arm." It would need a re-write, like, "His arms bore a great strength. So much so that his followers would say...", or something.
I think it's really good! Keep on working on it. Wouldn't mind reading more!
-Neurolanis 
Thanks for the comments, Neurolanis! I really like your rewrite of my "ate it alive" line. And I agree about the whole arm thing. I was just trying to figure out a way to say that he had four arms without simply saying "he has four arms". And believe me, this is just a first draft, but I love my characters and want to make their story the best I can. I really appreciate your feedback, and hope to read more of it when I post more of the story.
Yes, it is really "Magnetic story-telling" Once you get past the few sentances. You're sucked in and can't stop reading until you reach the end.
I did spot the word battleship and thought for a minute. It is a modern word for a big ship with large guns not used in a medival time setting. The more I thought of it...I realized...yes they could of used the word to refer to ships in that time.Refering to big sail ships with cannons or something less advanced but huge. So I doubt it matters
Thanks for the kind words Unknownhero! Although it may seem like the setting is from an ancient past, as you get deeper into the story it is revealed that this is actually the future. Of course, something HUGE must have happened for the earth to revert back to swords as weaponry and no electricity, and you, the reader, will be let in on all that as the story develops. Which, if I don't become too lazy (or too chicken), will hopefully be soon.
(The conclusion of Chapter 1)
Sanctum used to be a beautiful place, perhaps the most beautiful in all the world. It displayed towering temples and pillars made of the finest silver and gold. The grasses there, it seemed, grew greener and fuller than anywhere else. Lush gardens surrounded its perimeter, teeming with succulent fruit and delicious vegetables. Often, travelers would journey from all corners of the land just for a taste of Sanctum's sweet bounty. The patrons of Sanctum spent their days tending the gardens and keeping up the great gold structures, and in the night, they worshiped in the temples, praying for prosperity and fertility in their humble home. These people were ravishing, as well, with their milky white skin, long flowing locks, and stunningly bright blue eyes. They were like angles. This was a large part of their appeal to the hybrids.
The hybrids had been watching Sanctum for some time, studying its layout and the souls who dwelled within. They kept a low profile, feeding on the occasional traveler who appeared to have little to no family who could report his mysterious disappearance. They spent most of their time increasing the numbers of their dwindling family. There reproduction process was often messy, just the way they liked it.
A human male was chosen at random for this gruesome act. He would be chained to a tree in the Serpentine Forest -- the hybrid's home at that time -- and promptly bitten and simultaneously injected with poison. While his bodily fluids were overwhelmed with the poison and he slowly started to die, a hybrid would mate with him. Through the combination of a human's semen and a hybrid's unique poison, another hybrid would be created. Just as unnatural as their mating ritual, is the strange phenomena that hybrids only give birth to females of their kind.
Once their numbers were increased to easily triple that of the people of Sanctum, they began their invasion. They acted slowly at first, feeding off of the older and weaker members of Sanctum. They left the drained bodies behind for the people to find in hopes of making them insane before they slaughtered them. But this only made the angelic people pray harder to their god and lock themselves in their temples for nights at a time. Eventually, this tact became boring for the hybrids, so they struck out at Sanctum in one hellish night.
They tore though the town when the moon was full and high, hundreds of them, pillaging and murdering. They dragged children screaming from their beds, ripped babies straight from their mother's breast, brought structures to the ground with a single exertion of unmatched force, burnt homes and humans alike, and licked up the blood when they were finished. A few of the children were saved for later. Children were their favorite.
With Sanctum reduced to a pile of rubble, and the stench of decay still eminent in the atmosphere, the hybrids took refuge in the lower levels of Sanctum. Unknown to anyone who hadn't spent extensive periods of time surveying the land, there were vast caverns extending under the entire town. The hybrids lived beneath this once great and shining place, feeding off of the children they had acquired. Now and then, a traveler who had yet to hear of Sanctum's destruction would serve as a tasty midnight snack. They were gaining back the strength they had lost from the fight. Exuding so much power so quickly had taken its toll on the hybrids.
Over the years, the story of Sanctum's downfall reached the ears of every person in every village. Many were shocked to discover that the hybrids had survived the Battle of the Red Sea, in which Sir Arkady had supposedly dispatched all creatures of their nature. All were terrified of what the hybrids were capable of if they could take down a whole village in but one night. Representatives from each town paid a visit to Karrp to lobby for their army to attack the hybrids before they did something more audacious. After many wasted nights weighing the pros and cons of waging a war against these serpent beings, Commander Romny decided it was time to dispel the hybrids for the final time.
Thus, the longest and bloodiest war known ensued, the war that continued to be fought and somehow won by the hybrids despite their dwindling numbers and past defeats.
Now, Mala paced back and forth, pondering this conundrum. Her followers were too preoccupied to care -- what, with their feelings of superiority swelling beyond capacity, and celebrating their great victory with the blood of a young Karrp soldier Mala had saved for them.
Mala was in a private sector of the caverns, a place erected at her special request. The room was small, barely big enough to allot a handful of hybrids, but it served its purpose well. It was a shrine to the Goddess.
A large white marble fountain took up the bulk of the space. Flowing black water cascaded down from the mouths of angels -- angels entirely unlike the ones Sanctum's people once resembled. Their eyes burned red, their marble skin black and splotched in places, horns protruding from their tiny skulls, and smirks on their little faces that seemed to say they knew more than they were telling. Behind the fountain was an image of the Goddess as only an artist could perceive her; less of a portrait and more of an outline of her colorful essence. Etched into the cavern wall, it provided an excellent backdrop for the fountain and made the room shine.
Mala was standing in front of the fountain now, having given up on her pacing because it was making her legs hurt. She needed to feed, she was weak from exhaustion and hungry beyond belief, but she managed to quell her hunger and replace this need with the need to know.
"How did it happen, Goddess?" She asked into the murky water. "Why did it happen?"
So many questions she had, but dared not ask, for she feared the answers. Perhaps the sudden strength and subsequent victory experienced by her hybrids earlier was simply a result of her amazing leadership tactics. But what if it wasn't? What if it had nothing to do with her at all? Suppose a higher power had aided her, or a spell had been cast on Karrp to weaken them, then what? What would that mean for her? That she could not face the challenge before her? That despite her grievous efforts she had failed to live up to her title as Empress?
She did not wish to know the answers to these questions, yet still she pressed the inanimate fountain for information.
"Who aided me, Goddess? Was it you? Who asked you to do it? Why, Goddess? Is it that you do not believe in me? Do you not trust in my abilities to lead your people? To fulfill our destiny? I did not choose to lead your children, I did not ask to be Empress. You made me, Goddess, you!"
Mala became angry at the realization that was unfolding before her. Her pale yellow face flushed a dark red, her eyes slit into two thin, near-horizontal lines, her teeth grew sharp and pointed, her skin rippled and sprouted scales, and she released the serpent within.
"You, Goddess!" She cried and slammed a fist into one of the angel's smirking faces. It shattered into a million black-white-red pieces and plopped into the dark pool below. "You were ashamed of me, were you not? You made a horrible mistake in giving me the gift. You needed to correct it. So you worked your magic before I could fail you completely. Didn't you, Goddess? Answer me!"
She hissed at the picture on the cavern wall, threw back her head and screamed until her breath was gone.
An angel's face turned its neck and opened its mouth. "Empress, how wrong you are."
Mala stared at it, shocked and suddenly struck with a strange fear that made itself known through her abrupt urge to vomit. "Goddess?"
"I have never doubted you, dear Empress." It said, its demonic eyes focused on hers. The sing-song voice, like the soft flapping of butterfly wings, gave the angel an edge it had not known before. "Nor have I interfered in your life as Empress in even the most minuscule of ways by my own choosing."
"G-Goddess," Mala stammered, her heart caught in her throat, "I-I didn't mean to blame you. I . . ."
"You are angry. It is understandable. But your anger is sorely misplaced."
"W-Who should I be a-angry with, Goddess?"
"I owed a favor to a dear friend of mine who spread my name and fear of it across the land before the days of Arkady. Find him, and if you are truly displeased with your victory, bestow upon him this malicious anger you so easily lash out on me. And Empress, if I wished to stop you before you could fail me completely, I would have simply killed you."
The voice faded into a low whisper and the tiny head of the angel slowly returned to its original position.
Mala staggered to the base of the fountain and threw up.
~~~~~~~~
Baxter stood nervously amidst a band of dirty soldiers. He fidgeted, twirled his thumbs, and sweated profusely. His eyes scanned the group of ogres around him. They were all more than double his size, shoulders as wide as houses, giants in girth and heroes in brawn. They glared wickedly at Baxter, boring into him with their prying eyes, eyes as round as fists and just as forceful. He wanted to move his eyes to the ground to avoid their stares, but was worried about what they might do to him when he wasn't looking.
"Looks like my dog," One soldier joked.
"Smells like 'im, too," Said another.
Baxter allowed them to laugh and continue to make jokes at his expense. He hadn't come to Karrp to start a fight; he had come to talk to Commander Romny.
"Please," Baxter said a bit shakily, "I truly wish to speak to him. I have news of a most important nature. Please."
"The Commander don't need to talk to no lil' critter such as you," A soldier said. "He got 'nough on 'is hands without having to deal with vermin."
"Yeah," Another soldier chimed in. "He has us deal with the rodents. We're his exterminators, and we'll get rid of you right quick."
The crowd of burly men surged forth. Baxter backed up quickly to avoid their onslaught. He bowed his head as they neared him and whispered something under his breath. Suddenly, a bolt of fiery lightning crashed down from the skies and struck a soldier in his back. He cried out in pain and toppled over as a second quick flash sliced through another soldier’s helmet and cracked his skull right down the middle. The other men doubled back, staring wide-eyed at the spectacle before them, their mates twitching on the ground, whining pathetically in the throws of death.
Baxter looked up at the men, and in a tone of voice so cold it could freeze the Great Ocean, said, "Take me to the Commander."
This time, the soldiers heeded his request. They led him hastily through the abandoned town and into the Prospector's manor. Once there, the men left him standing by himself in the foyer and hurried away.
Baxter was amazed and quite delighted at how easily he had been able to infiltrate what was supposed to be the safest town in all the land. He had no intentions just yet of taking down the place, but it was certainly good to know that the option was there if he needed it in the future. If all went well this day, however, the option would be moot.
Commander Romny was a long time in appearing to greet Baxter, so the small man used this time to go over his pitch in his head. He knew, from what little the Master had shared with him, that Commander Romny was a stubborn man. A stubborn fool, the Master had said, which would surely be his downfall someday. But not today. Today, Baxter needed – counted on – the Commander to yield, if only slightly, in his clear-cut battle plan against the hybrids. Baxter had no doubt in his mind that Romny would have already labored over the formulation of an ingenious plan to take out the hybrids, and he would most assuredly be loathe to drop it at the request of a mere civilian. Baxter only hoped the Commander would not be so bullheaded to see that his plan was better.
Every solitary word Baxter would use to convince Commander Romny of his idea had to be chosen deliberately and carefully. His task was crucial to the Master’s survival, to his own survival. For surely a being as great as the Master would not suffer a failure to live. Thus, Baxter vowed not to leave Karrp until the Commander was well on his way to the Isle.
Commander Romny finally descended the marble staircase and stepped toward Baxter.
“You have killed two of my men,” the Commander said calmly.
“Allow me to explain myself, sir.” Baxter took one step back each time the Commander advanced. Commander Romny towered over him and cast a dark shadow on his small features. In doors, Baxter could do nothing to defend himself if the Commander decided to unsheathe his sword.
“You must know I have precious few men left,” Commander Romny continued in his calm tone, which only served to unnerve Baxter all the more. “And precious little patience for impish cowards who demand my attention, claim to bare helpful information, and then whimsically decrease the numbers of my army.”
“They would not allow me entry, sir,” Baxter began, speaking as fast as he could before Romny could interrupt him – either with his voice or his steel. “They circled around me, started toward me. I am no fighter, sir, they would have killed me. I feared for my life! But, more importantly, I feared for the lives of us all. Humanity is at stake here, sir, but you can save it. I had to get in to tell you, to help you. I am on your side.”
The Commander paused for a moment, seemingly considering Baxter’s hurried words.
“And how is it you can be of service to me?” He asked at last.
The tension between he and the Commander had relaxed slightly, and Baxter was able to quell his trembling – at least to the point where it was no longer visible – and share his news with Romny with greater ease than he had spoken before.
“Recently, I have made quite a discovery, Commander, sir. I should think it would help with the war tremendously. Of course, ever since I was a child, growing up with my ears clogged full of stories about Sir Arkady and his many noble conquests, I had aspired to be a warrior as he. Unfortunately, my size and stature would not allow for that, and I was heartbroken. I wanted to fight for the side of good, for humans the world over. But I knew it was impossible, so I set my sights on other actions I could take, other ways I could help the great Karrp Army.”
“Skip it,” the Commander interrupted. “I care not your motivations. The sight of you is beginning to disgust me; tell me your discovery or be gone. I haven’t the time.”
“Yes, certainly, sir, my apologies.” Sweat began to drip over Baxter’s brow and onto his lip, but he continued as if it weren’t there. “My discovery is this: I know what the hybrids seek. Or, rather, whom they seek.
“May I venture a guess at what you must be thinking? You are thinking, Everyone knows what the hybrids seek: blood and gore and chaos. No doubt, this is true. But more directly, they seek the Chosen One.”
The Commander scoffed. “Myth,” he said.
“Or so we are all made to think, sir. I have it on good authority that the Chosen One exists and has, as coincides with the well-known tale, been exiled to the Isle of Blessing.”
The Commander looked him over skeptically, as Baxter had expected. He reached a big hand to his chin and scratched the stubble there. Baxter was not so much shocked as disconcerted to see slivers of dried blood on his glove.
“If this is true,” the Commander said, “what is the hybrid’s purpose for seeking him?”
“Ah, now we come to the part the children’s stories all conveniently gloss over.” And the part where he no longer had to lie to convince Romny of the threat to the human population. “The Chosen One, while as human as you or I, possesses inhuman strengths and abilities. Such is why he – or she, as the stories never clarify – was banished centuries ago to the secluded and nearly impenetrable Isle of Blessing. It was also through these special abilities that the Isle was obliged to accept him and keep him. Unfortunately, these abilities have attracted the attention of the hybrids as well.
“His powers are deadly, sir, we all know this. But none more powerful than the blood which courses through his veins. This blood gives eternal life to the Chosen One, such is why he has lived out hundreds of years deep within the Isle. It will also grant immortality to those who taste of it, to those whom it does not kill, that is. And it will not kill the hybrids. Sir, if the serpentine beasts have a chance to sink their bloody fangs into the Chosen One and suck him dry before you are able to stop them, their entire species becomes invulnerable. It takes but eight of them to feed for all of them to live as unstoppable monsters.”
Baxter paused to allow Commander Romny time to soak up every detail of the information he had laid on him. The Commander began to pace the breadth of the large foyer room, his eyes on the fine carpet, his lips forming silent syllables with every stride. Baxter willed him to make haste with his decision so he could get on with the remainder of the plan – or crawl back to his merciless Master with disarmingly bad news.
Finally, Commander Romny turned back to him. “I have many questions for you—”
“Sir, if we do not hurry it will be too late!”
The Commander rushed at Romny, causing him to scamper backwards until the wall would not permit him to travel any further. The large man’s face was nose to nose with his, his hot breath being expelled savagely from his nostrils onto Baxter’s face. A low growl began to form at the back of his throbbing ruddy throat. If only Baxter were in the open expanses of the outdoors, he could meet Romny’s brawn with his own significant fortitude.
“You dare interrupt me!” Romny’s voice boomed through the hollow room. “I have more than fairly granted you the privilege of keeping your life after you expelled two of my guardsmen’s. I have wasted my own valuable time to listen to your rant. And you deign to tell me to quit talking and round up the troops!?”
Baxter would have thought the Commander’s pride equal to that of his stubbornness had he not been so terribly mortified at the moment. Confronted this closely and savagely by someone ten times stronger than he himself, he feared he would not be able to maintain control over his bowels for much longer.
“If I have questions of you, you will listen and respond,” the Commander said, unrelenting in his volume and roughness as he spat the words at Baxter. “The only reason you are still breathing, imp, is because I will it so. If you wish for your life to continue much longer, you will do well to sit down, shut up, and tell me everything I ask.”
Baxter obeyed, muttering a string of apologies and all but groveling at the man’s feet as he pulled away and began his line of questioning.
How sweet it will be when next we meet, good Commander, the little man thought to himself as he left the sanctity of Karrp half an hour later. How sweet, indeed.
sorry but i been pretty buzy. I haven't quite finished reading the second part but I will soon as I have time.
Don't sweat it.
Great for the first chapter. I espically like the commmader's reaction on the guy for killing two of his soldiers. I know I would be pissed to. But how many men does the commander have anyway or what makes him important for Baxter to apporach him about the problem and the solution to the hybrids?
Posted By:  Morgan Feb 11, 2003 - 09:40 am |       | Managed to read the first half of chapter one, but time at work is stopping me read any further. Must say that I'm impressed with what I've read so far - nicely constructed and stylised - and it kept me interested - you have a way with description which is refreshing too. One thing though - the hybrids - the way they converse with one another is slightly strange - (this may be intentional) - but often it will phase between strict alien Heirachy approach, then an odd phrase like 'Play your cards right' - will creep in which snags at me... like I say it might be nothing... anyhow, an enjoyable read.
Unknownhero - Baxter's plan for Romny is supposed to be mysterious. At least, that's what I was going for. Is it too vague?
Morgan - Thanks for reading! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I never really gave much thought to the hybrid's dialogue. That is, while I want them to speak more formally than perhaps the humans do, I never considered that certain phrases might seem out of place. But as the hybrids were once humans (at least parts of them), it seems to me that they would still speak informally sometimes, and use casual phrases and the occasional profanity. Still, if this is a real problem, I will certainly try to be more careful in how I approach their dialogue.
Well, what I meant is that why is Baxter there asking for his help. It doesn't matter what his plan is...but what Rommy has. You don't know how many men he has. You don't know if he has a history. You don't know if he is a skilled general or leader. You are given no information on him so you wonder why is Baxter is wasting his time dealing with him.
What exactly I am saving is there is nothing to know what Rommy is capable of doing.How big of an army he has? What kind of troops he has? Is he a great leader?
Sorry if it takes me long to reply.
Ummm...Romny is the commander of the largest standing army left in the world (do I really have to give an exact number of troops? it's just a lot more than anyone else). Romny is very skilled and capable, something I though I'd covered early in chapter 1 when Romny was with his brother. Maybe I need to develop that more? The Karrp Army is the only army that has been able to gain ground against the hybrids, which I thought I had at least alluded to, but maybe not. I will try to work on being less implicit and untangle any confusing knots.
Nah you don't have to give an exact number i just wanted to know what he had. Thats all.
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