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Posted By: Gnollslayer Apr 05, 2005 - 04:34 pm

Check this out, guys and gals, you'll get a kick out of it. This is the opening scene from my first attempt at a fantasy novel, written the summer after ninth grade.

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In the wild mountains of northern Nesal, beneath the withered village of Sevig, a light began to shine in a tunnel that had seen no light for centuries. It was a faint light, unwavering. It was a magical light. The sound of mattocks striking stone rang sharply in the passageway as a burly dwarf stepped forward to see the treasure he had uncovered. The eerie light slid across his face as he bent to examine the glowing crack in the wall. He steadied himself with one hand as he peered through the fissure. Penetrating warmth flowed from the stone into his work-worn hands, spreading further down his arm before flooding through his stocky body. It was a pleasant heat, a respite from his long hours of work in the cold tunnels. The warmth lent him strength as he hefted his pick onto his shoulder and prepared to strike the wall again.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The dwarf swung his mattock, slamming it against the hardened wall with force that belied his size. Fragments of stone flew loose as he pummeled the wall with iron. It cascaded away in a cloud of dust and rubble. As the floating dust cleared, his eyes came to rest on the ancient relic that shone out of the cavity that once had been dark. On a small pedestal of gold in a neatly carved stone chamber lay a beautiful amulet, wrought of pure gold with a gem of unimaginable worth nestled in its center. The miner picked up the artifact and held it in front of his face for a moment, tracing each line of the expertly crafted work of art with his eyes before placing it quickly around his neck and tucking it beneath his drab gray jerkin.

This is one treasure the headman won’t get, he thought. Then he lifted up his heavy iron pick and hefted it upon his shoulder, preparing to hide the only evidence of the amulet’s existence.

He never got the chance. The world began to shake around him. From above came a shower of stones, from below a cloud of dust rose up. The sound of iron and steel ringing against stone walls died and in its place rose a chorus of screams and cries for help. The miner’s squat legs pumped as he dashed madly toward the surface, hoping desperately that he could make it to safety, but knowing all the while that he could not. As he strove to find shelter from the blizzard of earth a single rock from the torrent struck him squarely on the head. He crumpled slowly into the dust, as did the mine around him.