Hello

Kelith

2009-07-16T01:58:15Z

One of my older works, longer and a bit more involved then my stories tend to be. I love this one, but I also see some room for improvement. My greastest fault, I don't want to be bothered with stories I've already finished xD

The streets of Kelith were dirty and worn. All the houses seemed tired, slumping over with age and their windows broken and stained with the greasy smoke of oil braziers. The sky seemed to be smudged the same color as the windows, as if a great fire had burned; bringing the rancid smoke into the Gods’ domain. Outside the walls of Kelith lay rocky farmland maintained by poor farmers, and beyond that a cold sea that ruthlessly crashed against the rocks.

I remembered when Kelith had been a grand city. Its fortune and beauty whispered among many mouths of many races and places. Other kingdoms would envy the architecture and the wide, open streets welcoming people of all backgrounds. It had been a place of peace, of a new generation.

So much had changed since then when it first started. The old man who had made this country great, who had also made Kelith, had passed on. The country mourned his death deeply. His son, Arom, has been placed as king. He was a young man, trusting, with a pure heart. Foolish. He was only a mere 19 years of age when he became king. Not a year later there were several marriage proposals from many kings hoping to marry their daughter to him for power. Then, there was the king of Eirlin. More importantly, there was his youngest daughter, Cathiel. She was barely a woman, but she looked no less like one than her older sisters. She had found from an early age, she could use her curves, and large radiant eyes, to make a man do anything. There was nothing in the world, no man, and no empire that could not be hers.

As soon as Arom set eyes on Cathiel, he knew she had to be his. Not much later he was taking her to be his wife. His love for her bloomed, anything she desired, was given. She was satisfied.

. . .

Seventeen years later and much had changed. Arom was not the man he had been. It had just started with the amazement of the power he held. In a single gesture he could get the most exotics pets and tapestries. In another he could order a grand feast to be held in merely three hours time. Then his desires grew. He wanted more than a feast, he wanted a port for trading good with far away lands; he wanted more territory to grow more food for his people, and to feed his own royal stomach. Slowly a change took place in him. He craved so much more. He abused his power to take what he wanted; he had gone crazy from the responsibility placed on his shoulders. He believed himself invincible and he knew no man could stand in the way of his immense armies and wealth. The people soon became wary, then afraid of their deranged king.

Cathiel saw the change in him. The more he desired and loved other things the more distant he became to her. Still striking in her later age of thirty-three she felt the desperate need to get what she wanted. Always being spoiled and yet here, her own husband, did not desire her.

Then he arrived. He had come to the palace from a southern country, Kirthan. He was handsome to say the least. He had skin the tone of a chestnut stallion and eyes as black as midnight. He had a sharp nose and brow, high cheekbones, and a jutting jaw.

He had come on a mission to make peace; he was the son of an elderly king. He announced himself as Prince Kelj. There was a parade welcoming him and all the citizens cheered at this newcomer. Peace is a rare and elusive thing and the people welcomed it gladly. There was a royal welcome for Prince Kelj and then he rested and changed into formal attire. Then there was a grand feast for which Arom held back no expense. The serving women whispered about this mysterious, handsome prince. The men drank and soon the music was loud and joyous, the men and woman danced, and celebration took over the city. The merrymaking lasted long into the night and early morn. It finally started to end with drunken men and woman retiring to each other’s beds.

That night Cathiel found she could not sleep, images of Kelj came into her mind and she felt that need in her, dark thoughts came to her and a primal want rose in her. He was something for once, she could not have. The first stirrings of an idea arose in her mind’s eye. Affected by the late hour and the fine wine that was provided at the feast she quickly got dressed and left the chamber her and her husband shared. She would always get what she wants. She always had, nothing, no man, no vows, no gods, would keep her from her desires.

She found the room Kelj resided in, and awoke him. There was not much more to be said about this night. Her curves and large radiant eyes prevailed again.

Cathiel went back to her chambers, feeling satisfied yet again. There was no more to be spoken about Kelj, peace was made and everyone was enlightened by it. Yet there was someone who would speak about Kelj. Cathiel’s older sister was a brooding princess. Living in the shadow of her father’s favorite daughter, she had not been offered to Arom, or any other prince. She had not the title of queen or the immense wealth that accommodated it. She had not the love of the people or beauty that could stun a man. What she did have was a cunning mind. She knew she sister all too well; she also knew which certain maids would do anything for a few cold coins. She knew what had happened, and she also knew she would use it.

She presented the king Arom with both reason and evidence. He went into a rage; he loved Cathiel he believed she could never do this to him. Cathiel would never betray his trust. She was executed with high treason. His word was law. Even though she was dead her words and image still mocked him. He knew down in the depths of his mind, it was true. Months went by, and then years, until he could take no more. Deranged by the betrayal, hurt, and a twisted love for Cathiel he confronted her. No matter what she said, he knew it was true. Even through all this, he still loved her. She would be his, forever. He locked her in the palace. No one was to see her, only her maids were allowed near her. The trusting pure hearted Arom was no more. No one could be trusted. He wanted revenge.

The peace was broken and war was waged. Kelj once a prince now a king, fought back. For years the war slowly leaked the treasury out, the once grand city of Kelith was not proud and rich anymore. Overwhelmed with the problems of war, crime wiped through the city. The city, once symbol of peace was now a symbol of despair, and greedy desires.

Cathiel’s punishment continued, until she could take no more. One day a maid came in to find her body cold on the sheets, blood soaked through from her wrists. The gruesome site was a testament to the king’s madness. Even more pushed into a dark type of despair the king brought the country into debt just to reach Kelj.

After decades of war, the power crazy king won. He sought his revenge on Kelj, and brought down his on blade on his neck. Yet this was no salvage from the darkness. Now with nothing but an empty, once great country, the old king had no purpose. He spent his life, and his country, to get his revenge.

This king, was an awful man; horribly cruel and merciless. He would go down in history as tyrant. What had happened to that young man? His youth, innocence, and heart had been sucked away from him.

How did these things happen? It had happened so slowly at first. It was hardly noticeable. Now Arom was left with no one. No friends, no one to trust. How could one act drive a man insane?

I shook my head remembering the past deeds of this king. He was driven mad, yet there was a solace for him. He would bring this country back. This king would not be hated, not forever. This is the one thing he vowed before he died. This old man would reclaim his title.

“I am King Arom, and I will bring this country back,” he promised himself.

Child of the Night

2009-07-15T07:20:06Z

Standing in the night breeze, my dress fluttering in the soft wind as it’s soft fingers caress my face, I remember my first night wandering this forest. I had been lead there by the track beneath my feet, only wearing a blindfold, my newly painted on marks, and the leather strap holding various knives. The villagers decided I was to be their new prize to keep the dark demon at bay, called Kirivoth. After eating the meat of the sacrificed boar, my whole body was painted in the swirling designs of my tribe made of a combination of the boar’s blood and certain dyes and pastes. On my forehead was placed the symbol of guidance and a martyr, the slicing signs of protections crossed down both my eyes, and the gift of the night across the bridge of my nose. My lip newly pierced, to show the pain I was to endure for my people; they blindfolded me and draped the ceremonial knives down my shoulder, which they would collect when they found my corpse.

For a brief moment I could imagine what my village looked like through this blindfold; the moonlight shining softly on the roofs of the huts, the breeze making the leaves swirl and dance on the limbs of the trees like old women weaving baskets. I could almost hear the soft snores and breathing of the children sound asleep in their bedding. The smell of the small fresh stream that used to be a river this village was built around.

Suddenly I was pushed down the path, although not traveled much, there was a distinct line between the undergrowth and this soft rich dirt. I walked through the forest, my skin alive to every touch and my ears taking in every sound. I kept on my way because if I ever wondered off my feet would get bitten by sharp thorns. While I was wondering what it would feel like sacrificing my virgin flesh to this demon, I heard a crack behind my right side. Suddenly I heard and felt a whoosh of air over me as I instinctively ducked to the left. I thumbled and drew one of the knives and turned to my attacker. Another crack of a branch almost in front of me and I held out my only protection against this large predator, I didn’t hear anything just felt sharp razors biting in my hamstring. I fell down my tendon now cut as I grabbed another knife for my left hand. I stayed silent on one knee and felt warm fur cross my knee, it lunged for my throat and I struck out blindly repeatedly. Teeth caught my shoulder and searing pain rippled through me, shaking my brain inside my head, as I kept hitting hard spots, then one of my knives sunk in. I heard a animalistic groan and kept stabbing. Soon I was just stabbing a corpse and I let myself fall backwards, breathing hard and bleeding profusely.

I slipped off my blindfold, and as my eyes adjusted I started ripping apart the cloth to bind my wounds. I looked at my attacker; Kirivoth was a huge black male jaguar, bigger than any of the cats brought back by village men, its fangs almost twice the size of ones boasted on the necklaces of old wise men. I wrapped the cloth tightly around my wounds, knowing if I didn’t get help soon I could easily bleed to death. I wondered about going back to my village, but they would never believe my story, or that this jaguar was the demon, and just send me back out to die. I was suddenly filled with anger, I had the will to live, I killed what was terrorizing my village, and I should be a savior. Instead, no woman could take credit for this, and there was no man to take credit for it here.

I calmed myself down, trying to keep my heartbeat as slow as possible, and remembered the lessons I learned from the healer when I spent the summer months there some years ago. I was getting dizzy, my mind fogging up; I could barely remember my name. I decided to at least start walking, to get rid of the anxious feeling building up in my chest speeding up my heartbeat, and I grabbed the nearest branch as a walking stick. I stumbled through the path, remembering to hold the wound high so blood wouldn’t pump to it, my leg couldn’t be helped but I got a stick and stuck it through the bandage on my arm and down my side. The sharp end dug into my ribs, but at least the pain kept me awake. I remembered a few herbs that would help prevent infections and stem bleeding, but I didn’t know where to find them, and if they would even help for a case like this. I decided my best chance of surviving was to wander around and hope I could find someone, who knew enough to save me. I don’t know how long I had walked, the night was still pitch black, and I couldn’t find the moon through the thick tops of the trees. I was so close to the brink of unconsciousness I didn’t realize the light was a campfire, until I was close enough to feel the heat, and then everything was black, blacker than the night.

When I awoke I could tell it was dark outside, I panicked, disorientated, and sat up, gasping and temporarily passing out because of the pain. I remember some of the events of the night before, wishing now that I was alive that I had taken the hide or fangs of that massive cat and sighed. I tested out my right arm and found through the excruciating pain I could still move it, although I had no success with my left leg, finding it was useless. Suddenly, I was aware of a presence. I looked behind me as well as I could manage and found a man warily looking at me from under his brow. He spoke in a few languages until I finally recognized a greeting in mine. I nodded and instead just stared at him, obviously being the one who had wrapped these herbs and bandages around me, saving my life. I wondered how much of a scare I had given him, wandering into his camp bleeding from bite wounds, my right arm protruding oddly from my body on a stick, covered in swirling patterns, naked except for various knives. He must think I am one of those odd warrior women near our village, who cut off their right breast to better use their bows, and use men as lowly people and slaves. He held out a dish made of wood with stretched hide covering it filled with crystal clear water to me and a similarly made dish with fruits and berries on it. Also on the fire was a one of the wild birds roasting on a spit. I smiled at him, it seems he meant to take care of me.

After a few weeks staying with this man, we hardly speak but it seems easier just to gesture with him. After trying to bath I found out my markings are permanent, it seems I will always be the child of kirivoth’s even after slaying him. I am improving swiftly and I can’t help but wonder where I shall go after this. With the man it’s comfortable, but I am of no use. He lives and works himself and has time to rest and relax every day, all I would do is eat his supplies and take more time of his. I do have enough knowledge to live on my own, but I know that if I am injured severely again I will die. I also don’t have any tools or supplies, and only the knives for protection and cutting. It seems I’ll have to start again, like a new babe; I’ll be with nothing and make a new life.

Today I woke quite similar to that other day, disorientated and confused. The fire was sputtering out next to me and by my feet laid a small thing of water and food, also several tools and a linen tunic and breeches. I looked around and the man was gone, and so were all the rest of his supplies. His farewell gifts were the tools to my survival. How much I owed that man, the man whole saved me from nothingness.

Now I look around, this night almost a duplicate of the one so long ago, and I stare once again at the eyes of that man. His eyes though instead of being filled with apprehension and confusion, now only knew love and care. His hands that had wrapped my wounds now caressed my face and markings. This man who gave me life, and took my heart into his, I smile even now as he takes my life rightfully so, as it is his for he gave it. His hands now caress my throat, and he slides my ceremonial knife across my neck. I am always the child of the night, and I now know he is the Kirivoth my people spoke of. Sharp pain and tingles go through my neck and I can feel the blood welling on my neck. Although it took so long, I finally let my body be sacrificed to this demon, like I suppose to many years ago. I feel his feathery light kiss upon my cheek, right on the protection mark, and then everything was black, blacker than the night.