Negthareas
02-07-2010, 11:04 AM
I worked on this last night - It is a little long.
CHAPTER 1
"So, in the 52nd year of King Yaruvi's reign," said the hermit "that the Lathrem struck. They stormed the city of Yerathu, killing hundreds of innocents Ranoy, and many of the kings of the Ranoy. But Yaruvi stood firm. Though unused to warfare, he and his servants defended the royal palace against the Lathrem, and their servants the Blothres. So many blothres were killed, actually, that mounds of them piled up at the base of the hill that the palace was built on. After holding off the Lathrem for three days, Yaruvi was rescued. Leading a force of fifty thousand Radeli, came Negthareas and Nolend the Elendars. They drove the Lathrem from the now-ruined city of Yerathu, and scattered them to the four corners of Lanthesvan." The hermit thought to himself for a while, and then said "Yes, that is how it happened."
"Then you were there?" asked the boy in front of him, surprised and eager at the same time.
"No, of course not," the old man responded. "Do I look like I am 500 years old?" the man, bent double with age, chuckled to himself. "No, I am nowhere near that old. Even so, I imagine that when you reach my current age, Dithno, you will look much older than I presently do." the man stopped and thought for a moment, then glanced at the hourglass. "Praise Anuvan and the fourteen deities! Why didn't you tell me it was already this far into the night? You know I promised your parents to send you back before nightfall. Now go, get out of here." The man muttered a little to himself, as Dithno, sighing, collected a few books, a quill, and a couple tablets.
After peeking out at the rugged mountainside, Dithno returned to his tutor, saying "My, it seems quite cold and windy tonight. I will most probably freeze on the way down. No one will ever know what happened to poor Dithno. Young Dithno. Innocent Dithno. Handsome Dithno..."
Here the old man cut him off "Fine, fine, you can take a horn of my wine with you - mind you, don't drink it all at once, and don't let your parents know I gave it to you - it is strictly for keeping you warm inside, understand?" the Old Hermit on the Mountain, as the people of Lembanith called him, gazed sternly at his fourteen year old pupil. "That is not ale, it is much stronger - the last time I gave it to you, you ended up stumbling into your neighbors home singing love songs to his daughter! I expect you to be more responsible this time. Do you hear me?" the man raised a finger menacingly, but Dithno only laughed.
"Ha - you know as well as I that you would never harm a fly, and that I only use your wine as an excuse to sing love songs to Loritha - ah, she is soo beautiful - the chance was worth the whipping father gave me afterward." "Well, whatever," the hermit replied "Now get out or else, I'll...I'll...I'll never tell you any more concerning the battles of the First War." The hermit had barely finished his sentence before the door slammed shut. He chuckled. Anyone would call his bluff when he threatened physical harm, but at least Dithno knew that he kept his academic word to smallest syllable. The door creaked open, and Dithno's head appeared around its edge.
"Master, sir," he said "do you think my father will be alright?" Dithno looked very worried, and the hermit knew he should answer the question carefully. Dithno had climbed to the hermit's home the previous night, crying to himself. His parents had argued horribly with each other over the war. The Sayenk Empire, seeking further expansion on the Thas continent had invaded Tervenian the year before. Now they had invaded Iregand. General Umoyas Yagin had summoned all militia, including Dithno's father. Dithno's mother had tried to convince him not to go, and their conversation had quickly escalated into an arguement. Dithno's father, with his spear, sword, shield, and helm, had left. Dithno, unable to find comfort in his weeping mother, had come to him, his teacher, for comfort.
"Dithno, I cannot say how the battle will go. General Umoyas and Lagine Yagin seem very confident in their chances of success. Try not to worry about your father. Think of how he may come home as a hero, having slain at least twenty men single-handedly. But, if things go worst, be strong - for your mother. You may have to be the man of the home."
Dithno shook a little, then said "Thank you sir, have a good night." Dithno shut the door, and the hermit pictured him in his mind's eye begin the short but dangerous trek down the side of the mountain to the village of Lembanith below.
"Protect him, O Mathriyas," he said "give him the strength he will need."
CHAPTER 2
Dithno made the steep journey down unharmed, and soon found himself safe and sound back at his cottage. He would have stopped at his neighbor's house, and spoken to Loritha at her window, but he was tired, and too worried about his father to consider anything else. He pounded a few times at his door, before his mother opened it for him. Dithno walked in, shutting the door and replacing the heavy piece of timber that locked it. His mother was red-eyed, and he could tell that she had been crying when he was away. He decided it would be best not to bring up the issue. they ate dinner in silence. It was a good soup, wiht beef, carrots, and potatoes, but the lack of conversation seemed to cool the soup's warmth and flavor. Dithno finished and went to his bed, a pile of hay with a few blankets laid on top. Thinking of his father, and what would happen to them if he died, Dithno cried himself to sleep.
Dithno sat up with a start as horrifying screams echoed in the valley. Then he heard the cries "The Sayenk, the Sayenk are coming!" People were runing past his window, carts were being overturned, children were crying aloud for their mothers. Dithno got off his bed, throwing on his shirt, and grabbing his knife. He ran into the main room. Dithno realized that the door was unbolted, and looked around for the locking beam. Then his mother opened the door, slamming it quickly shut behind her. She winded, and part of her shawl had been ripped off.
"Hurry, Dithno," She gasped, "the door...lock the door." Dithno found the beam and hefted it into place. Moments later the door shook.
"Open up in the name of Skitamil Ashimak, Emperor of the Sayenk!" the soldier outside yelled. Hearing no answer, he hefted a ax, smashing away at the door. Piece by piece, it fell apart. Dithno stood in front of his mother, knife in hand. Then she fell to the floor. "Mother!" Dithno yelled. He kneeled at her side. Her skin was pale and cold, but wet with sweat. She had no pulse. "No! Not now, not her heart!" Dithno bent over her and started pumping her upper chest with his hands crossed, crying and swearing at the same time. Then the beam, finally weakened, broke, and the Sayenk soldier knocked the door down and stepped in.
"Lithrasko mur tan gith, exa berazo tan werthol!" he said, gestering angrily at Dithno. Dithno froze, not knowing what to do. Then the soldier swung the ax down at his head. Dithno darted forward, landing between the man's legs, and stabbed his dagger up into the man's groin. The man screamed, falling down and clutching between his legs. Dithno cut his throat, and the soldier's shrieks silenced with a gurgle.
Dithno was shaking all over, and dropped his knife. He curled up under the table, not crying, but just staring out the door into the night. Then more soldiers arrived.
"Berthaf mestak gam turgal! Delagthes!" one of them shouted on seeing the dead soldier, and the pool of blood. Then he saw Dithno. "Belat nost wagiman mos!" He drew his sword and kicked over the table. Dithno, unprotected, just sat there gazing limply up at him. There were a total of three soldiers inside the room now, two on either side of the door, and the other standing in front of Dithno. Then a long staff was held through the door way, leveled out horizontally, and then pulled back against the necks of the two guards with such force that it cracked their vertabrae. The two soldiers collapsed to the ground, and the remaining one turned towards the doorway. He fell dead to the ground with a throwing blade through his left eye. Dithno flinched at the piercing yet short scream and then looked up. There by the door stood the old hermit. But he had no beard now, and he was not bent low. Beneath his cloak sheened polished armor, and he wore a quiver, bow, and shield. The hermit came in, and gathered Dithno in his arms. Taking him outside, he placed him on his horse, tying his legs down. Then he mounted and moeve the horse into a gallop.
Dithno looked back at his house, and managed to weakly say "But, what about mother? What if father returns? No one will be there to greet him."
The hermit was silent for a while, and then said "Dithno, your mother is dead. I do not know about your father, but I know he will not return here. Do not worry, I will keep you safe." The two of them galloped out of the valley. Just before they reached the crest of the hill, Dithno looked back at Lembanith. It was burning. Then the hill hid it from sight, and dawn broke.
CHAPTER 1
"So, in the 52nd year of King Yaruvi's reign," said the hermit "that the Lathrem struck. They stormed the city of Yerathu, killing hundreds of innocents Ranoy, and many of the kings of the Ranoy. But Yaruvi stood firm. Though unused to warfare, he and his servants defended the royal palace against the Lathrem, and their servants the Blothres. So many blothres were killed, actually, that mounds of them piled up at the base of the hill that the palace was built on. After holding off the Lathrem for three days, Yaruvi was rescued. Leading a force of fifty thousand Radeli, came Negthareas and Nolend the Elendars. They drove the Lathrem from the now-ruined city of Yerathu, and scattered them to the four corners of Lanthesvan." The hermit thought to himself for a while, and then said "Yes, that is how it happened."
"Then you were there?" asked the boy in front of him, surprised and eager at the same time.
"No, of course not," the old man responded. "Do I look like I am 500 years old?" the man, bent double with age, chuckled to himself. "No, I am nowhere near that old. Even so, I imagine that when you reach my current age, Dithno, you will look much older than I presently do." the man stopped and thought for a moment, then glanced at the hourglass. "Praise Anuvan and the fourteen deities! Why didn't you tell me it was already this far into the night? You know I promised your parents to send you back before nightfall. Now go, get out of here." The man muttered a little to himself, as Dithno, sighing, collected a few books, a quill, and a couple tablets.
After peeking out at the rugged mountainside, Dithno returned to his tutor, saying "My, it seems quite cold and windy tonight. I will most probably freeze on the way down. No one will ever know what happened to poor Dithno. Young Dithno. Innocent Dithno. Handsome Dithno..."
Here the old man cut him off "Fine, fine, you can take a horn of my wine with you - mind you, don't drink it all at once, and don't let your parents know I gave it to you - it is strictly for keeping you warm inside, understand?" the Old Hermit on the Mountain, as the people of Lembanith called him, gazed sternly at his fourteen year old pupil. "That is not ale, it is much stronger - the last time I gave it to you, you ended up stumbling into your neighbors home singing love songs to his daughter! I expect you to be more responsible this time. Do you hear me?" the man raised a finger menacingly, but Dithno only laughed.
"Ha - you know as well as I that you would never harm a fly, and that I only use your wine as an excuse to sing love songs to Loritha - ah, she is soo beautiful - the chance was worth the whipping father gave me afterward." "Well, whatever," the hermit replied "Now get out or else, I'll...I'll...I'll never tell you any more concerning the battles of the First War." The hermit had barely finished his sentence before the door slammed shut. He chuckled. Anyone would call his bluff when he threatened physical harm, but at least Dithno knew that he kept his academic word to smallest syllable. The door creaked open, and Dithno's head appeared around its edge.
"Master, sir," he said "do you think my father will be alright?" Dithno looked very worried, and the hermit knew he should answer the question carefully. Dithno had climbed to the hermit's home the previous night, crying to himself. His parents had argued horribly with each other over the war. The Sayenk Empire, seeking further expansion on the Thas continent had invaded Tervenian the year before. Now they had invaded Iregand. General Umoyas Yagin had summoned all militia, including Dithno's father. Dithno's mother had tried to convince him not to go, and their conversation had quickly escalated into an arguement. Dithno's father, with his spear, sword, shield, and helm, had left. Dithno, unable to find comfort in his weeping mother, had come to him, his teacher, for comfort.
"Dithno, I cannot say how the battle will go. General Umoyas and Lagine Yagin seem very confident in their chances of success. Try not to worry about your father. Think of how he may come home as a hero, having slain at least twenty men single-handedly. But, if things go worst, be strong - for your mother. You may have to be the man of the home."
Dithno shook a little, then said "Thank you sir, have a good night." Dithno shut the door, and the hermit pictured him in his mind's eye begin the short but dangerous trek down the side of the mountain to the village of Lembanith below.
"Protect him, O Mathriyas," he said "give him the strength he will need."
CHAPTER 2
Dithno made the steep journey down unharmed, and soon found himself safe and sound back at his cottage. He would have stopped at his neighbor's house, and spoken to Loritha at her window, but he was tired, and too worried about his father to consider anything else. He pounded a few times at his door, before his mother opened it for him. Dithno walked in, shutting the door and replacing the heavy piece of timber that locked it. His mother was red-eyed, and he could tell that she had been crying when he was away. He decided it would be best not to bring up the issue. they ate dinner in silence. It was a good soup, wiht beef, carrots, and potatoes, but the lack of conversation seemed to cool the soup's warmth and flavor. Dithno finished and went to his bed, a pile of hay with a few blankets laid on top. Thinking of his father, and what would happen to them if he died, Dithno cried himself to sleep.
Dithno sat up with a start as horrifying screams echoed in the valley. Then he heard the cries "The Sayenk, the Sayenk are coming!" People were runing past his window, carts were being overturned, children were crying aloud for their mothers. Dithno got off his bed, throwing on his shirt, and grabbing his knife. He ran into the main room. Dithno realized that the door was unbolted, and looked around for the locking beam. Then his mother opened the door, slamming it quickly shut behind her. She winded, and part of her shawl had been ripped off.
"Hurry, Dithno," She gasped, "the door...lock the door." Dithno found the beam and hefted it into place. Moments later the door shook.
"Open up in the name of Skitamil Ashimak, Emperor of the Sayenk!" the soldier outside yelled. Hearing no answer, he hefted a ax, smashing away at the door. Piece by piece, it fell apart. Dithno stood in front of his mother, knife in hand. Then she fell to the floor. "Mother!" Dithno yelled. He kneeled at her side. Her skin was pale and cold, but wet with sweat. She had no pulse. "No! Not now, not her heart!" Dithno bent over her and started pumping her upper chest with his hands crossed, crying and swearing at the same time. Then the beam, finally weakened, broke, and the Sayenk soldier knocked the door down and stepped in.
"Lithrasko mur tan gith, exa berazo tan werthol!" he said, gestering angrily at Dithno. Dithno froze, not knowing what to do. Then the soldier swung the ax down at his head. Dithno darted forward, landing between the man's legs, and stabbed his dagger up into the man's groin. The man screamed, falling down and clutching between his legs. Dithno cut his throat, and the soldier's shrieks silenced with a gurgle.
Dithno was shaking all over, and dropped his knife. He curled up under the table, not crying, but just staring out the door into the night. Then more soldiers arrived.
"Berthaf mestak gam turgal! Delagthes!" one of them shouted on seeing the dead soldier, and the pool of blood. Then he saw Dithno. "Belat nost wagiman mos!" He drew his sword and kicked over the table. Dithno, unprotected, just sat there gazing limply up at him. There were a total of three soldiers inside the room now, two on either side of the door, and the other standing in front of Dithno. Then a long staff was held through the door way, leveled out horizontally, and then pulled back against the necks of the two guards with such force that it cracked their vertabrae. The two soldiers collapsed to the ground, and the remaining one turned towards the doorway. He fell dead to the ground with a throwing blade through his left eye. Dithno flinched at the piercing yet short scream and then looked up. There by the door stood the old hermit. But he had no beard now, and he was not bent low. Beneath his cloak sheened polished armor, and he wore a quiver, bow, and shield. The hermit came in, and gathered Dithno in his arms. Taking him outside, he placed him on his horse, tying his legs down. Then he mounted and moeve the horse into a gallop.
Dithno looked back at his house, and managed to weakly say "But, what about mother? What if father returns? No one will be there to greet him."
The hermit was silent for a while, and then said "Dithno, your mother is dead. I do not know about your father, but I know he will not return here. Do not worry, I will keep you safe." The two of them galloped out of the valley. Just before they reached the crest of the hill, Dithno looked back at Lembanith. It was burning. Then the hill hid it from sight, and dawn broke.