Enchanter's peak

           Beneath the dark and tranquil shadows of the woods, the quick, loud footsteps of a young child echoed, splashing inevitably against the scattered puddles of mud. Her heart pounded furiously with panic, her bluish-steel eyes gleamed with tears, the scenes of the monstrous atrocity happening flashed again and again before her eyes. Roaring flames . . .  screams. . .  

She dared not stop running, knowing they would catch up with their inhuman speed before she could even notice. She tugged her thin shawl tighter, her vision was anything but clear, it hardly mattered. The only thing important at the moment was to reach the safe path that separated the world of Apathepia from mortals, her only hope of escape.

Her mother’s last words had been clear enough for anyone to understand, holding her shoulders tight, her eyes full of apprehension, “Keep her safe, she must be brought to the portal, do you understand me? They must not be able take her, promise me!” Despite being terribly afraid, she nodded. She and her brother took one last look at their mother, and ran from the bloodbath, their home, and fled into the woods as quickly as they could. Slowing down, panting and trembling with fear, she thrust her straggly, dirty-blonde hair from her face, and looked below her. Her legs collapsed, causing her to fall down on the cold, wet, bare ground. In her arms, concealed by thick, pink cotton blankets, was a tiny baby, stirring from her silent sleep. The baby began to weep.

“Shh,” She whispered in her soft, anxious voice, “Don’t cry, everything will be all right, I promise,” Despite her words though, unshed tears in her eyes slowly began to trickle. “I promise.” She could still hear the faint screaming of her people; and an echo of cruel laughter.

She heard muffled noises from behind, so once again, faster than ever, she ran. She did her best, her eyes squinting to their extent, to discern the tracks to the well-hidden, nearly abandoned portal. Moonlight never did pass through their kingdom definitely; however, it was worse for this particular night. A night no one shall ever forget.

The leaves rustled as an icy gust of air swept by violently, she held the baby in a comforting manner. The blasts of air were even worse than usual, so powerful that miniscule shards of stones flew along with the leaves. “No. . .”

She looked over her shoulders a bit, and then froze with shock. Hundreds of feet behind, stood a man whose skin was the shade of hellish crimson, with eyes of ruthless burnt orange, and hair as dark as a raven’s. The man smiled.

Instinctively, she drew out her wand, only to have it swiped by the fierce yet oddly coordinated wind.  The instant the surprise cleared off, she took a couple steps backwards, concealing her concentration on the trees surrounding the men.

“Get them.” The man hissed to the other two alongside him. None of them moved, or rather, none of them could move. Thick, bulky tree roots crept from beneath the earth, and wrapped themselves stealthily unto their ankles. The men next noticed luminous green sparks fly from the tips of the child’s fingers. This was barely a distraction for them. As the men attempted to remove the roots now trying to wrap their thighs, she ran faster than before, her heart thumped harder than she could have ever imagined.

They were both shivering from the clustery weather. Her hair and plunging ice rapped her face stingingly, but she dared not to stop. That bit of magic had taken a great deal from her, at eleven that was an astounding accomplishment, she felt greatly drained. Her chest heaved with relief; as a small beam of light glowed several feet ahead of them, at last, they were nearly there. She ran, anticipation flowing through her whole bodyin spite of her exhaustion.

She comforted her sister, breathing roughly, “We’re nearly there, don’t worry"”

A thunderous explosion behind caused her to tumble over the earth, she clutched the baby tight, protected within her arms. She gasped breathlessly. From the corner of her eyes, she detected not just three, but nearly a dozen menacing silhouettes drawing closer and closer. She scrambled to her feet at once, and dashed to the portal.

 The light grew brighter and brighter, they were so close, and yet, the more she ran, the more she weakened. Bursts of blazing flames attacked her at random, the work of those trailing her, causing critical, scorching scalds on her arms and face. She tried not to make any sound; a mere hum could summon them in a blink of an eye.

“There she is!” One cried coarsely, pointing his long finger at their deserting figures. “And the baby!”

She paid no more attention to them; her main focus was to reach the portal, to make sure her sister is delivered safely. Begging her body to keep going, she could already see the brilliant violet glow, the moon-shaped arch, then suddenly---

“Ahhh!” Her shriek rang with excruciating pain.

Blood gushed from her left shoulder, very close to her heart, as a cast-metal, sharp-tipped stiletto stabbed through it from nowhere. Booms of ominous cackles behind her accompanied it. Her chest and right arm felt like freezing up, and next, a pinching and burning sensation in her body took over. Her vision became fuzzy; she relied on the glow solely to lead her. Moving unsteadily, feeling as though she was ready to fall unconscious, she carried the baby with her right arm and used the free one to procure the stiletto. It vanished into dust.

Her feet stumbled shakily, tremors spread throughout her body from tip to toe, starting from her chest.  This was it; her voice had given her away completely. They heard her, and she heard them. They were coming, faster than ever. Her stumbling aside, she did not stop running. For a moment, she felt that she would rather like death. After a swift turn, she closed her eyes thankfully.

Finally, finally, they reached it.

And with only just enough time to spare, knowing she would not last very much longer. They entered through the gloomier parts of the woods, nearly obscure from the naked eye. It would not be too easy for them to follow her here at once. As weakly as she was, she fell on all fours, dropping the baby accidentally with a thud on the ground, inches before the glowing arch. She struggled for the air that escaped her, it was of no use. She titled her head promptly upwards, and noticed a thump on her chest. Surprised, she inserted her fingers inside her blood drenched shirt, through her collar; she pulled out a two-foot long gold-chained necklace. Lifting it off, she felt like a part of her quickly vanished.

That movement aggravated her pain. She winced.

Gazing unto the light, she knew she could not pursue her task. A desperate change of plan dashed in her head.

Immediately, as much as her injury permitted, she lifted the baby to her, and held her into a tight embrace. Burning tears filled her swollen eyes for a second time, ice-cold as they shed. Utmost regret pierced through her as if it would never do so ever again. And shame--fear of the shame she expected from her family, shame for herself, hit her over and over.

“I am . . . sorry. . .” She murmured into her ear, softly, as she laid the baby on the ground once more, with a kiss on her little hand. She made sure the blankets about her sister were snug, and her necklace, the gold chain glimmering in the moonlight, wrapped around her tiny body like a rope, its round pendant engraved with their emblem dangled. A sudden violet glare caused her to gasp. It did not come from the portal. Her heart halted for a fraction of a second, for a moment or two she had debated whether her blurred eyesight has been deceiving her, however, she was wrong. With a quivering hand, she reached out and grabbed a small glass crown, and, glancing sadly from it to the baby, with as much strength as she could give, she smashed it into pieces. The jewel pieces faded against the darkness--scattered--mingled with the common rocks and soil. Tears swam in her eyes yet again. She carried the baby into her arms.

Knowing this act could kill them both, she bit her lower lip and clamped her hand unto her sister’s chest, determined anyway. A magical sensation shot through them both; there was a gleam where her hand had rested. To the baby at least, the feeling was wonderful, a warm and soothing reaction she’s never felt in her short few months yet. To her, the pain of having a stiletto pierced through her shoulder seemed laughable; she fought not to scream, sweat dripped vastly despite the frosty air.

She heard their nearing footsteps, their triumphant taunts, and knew that she could delay it no longer.

Standing on her knees, wincing constantly, she extended her arms toward the arch, and murmured not quite clearly, “Woodlands of Ashville, Roan Ivanov,” The misty glow shimmered down, a brand new shade combining it, muddled colors of green, brown, and blue, up until an unmoving, hazy depiction was brought. A vine-covered cottage, settled by a peaceful lake, was now showing inside the arch. She gave a new shudder, hesitating as she glanced at her sister. Finally, “Be safe.” She released her sister. Watching as her last trace faded into nothingness, she heard a sudden halting of steps behind her.

 

 

Author's Note

Please give me you reviews and comments! thank you

Reviews

[Matt Pellegrini]

Alright, first I'll start with some of the small things I noticed and a few of my suggestions. Most of these are just little suggestions for how to maybe improve the story. But, I'm sure you know your own story better than I do, so if you'd rather stick with what you got now, you probably have a better reason for it than what I'm suggesting.

"Thrust her hair?" That's a bit of an odd wording. I'm not sure if one can really "thrust" their own hair. I would go with a different word.

You don't need to change this, because I understand you might not want her eyes to be like a "typical or regular blue color," but if you just said steel blue eyes, it would probably sound stronger.

"A night no one shall ever forget." That sentence at this point in the story just doesn't really add anything. I think because at this point, there's no proof to that statement. If later in the story, another one of the characters tells the child who survived what happened that night and how it was a night no on shall ever forget, then the reader would believe how impactful this section really is. Plus, if this is the opening chapter/scene of your story, I think the readers will understand this is a very important scene without needing to be told.

Hellish crimson was a great image. It came off really strong to me.

Clustery weather? I think you may want "blustery," if anything. Though there's probably a better word than either of those two.

"She and her brother took one last look at their mother," I assume the brother to be the same child with her later, the one she is holding, however, the baby is her sister in the rest of the story so this is an inconsistency. If there is a brother, there may need to be a sentence or a thought from of the girl as to what happened to him and why he's not there with her now.

I don't think she would be concerned with the shame of her family if she thought she was going to die. In fact, her mother's final wish was for her to protect the baby, so she should maybe even feel proud and successful, but I think she can definitely still express disappointment and worry that she didn't do enough.

There are a few times where there are phrases that have wording that's just a bit off. Maybe a tense change or something like that.

To me, this part of the story has the tone and feel that the first scene in Harry Potter does. But you definitely do it in your own way, so it doesn't read just like a copy. You've got some of the important elements here for a strong fantasy story. A prophesied/savior type of a child, and the guardian character that must protect her at all costs, even potentially sacrificing her own life. I agree that your language is mature and intelligent, but I think sometimes there are some words (particularly adjectives) forced in that might not need to be there. Description and strong images are great, but giving an adjective to every noun can slow down the tension of a scene like this. Not that I ever felt you were too wordy in this story, but it's just something to keep in mind.

I like how the portal is just sort of a glow of light after the girl's vision becomes fuzzy. I think it could be cool if you kind of did more with her sort of dying and trying to reach this glow/light. A bit like going into the light or something.

I'm curious to know if the older girl does actually die or not. You end this on a bit of a cliffhanger. Either way, it's a strong start with the right elements that you will need for the kind of story I think you're going for.

[Kilerfire]

I like this

[SoLongAndThanksForAllTh..]

You do a good job of selling the rest of the story in this prologue. There's a lot of excitement here and a frantic pace that will pull a reader in.

My only note of caution is that you are perhaps giving away just a little too much as in this short piece we are told who is running away, from who, why she's doing it and also what is concealed. Perhaps it might be better if one or more of these elements were hidden from the reader. This could be done by referring to the baby as "precious burden" or maybe refer to the portals as "the only safe place". There are lots of techniques that a writer can use to keep their audience guessing and if you keep the reader guessing they continue to read.

In so far as style is concerned you have an eye for portraying detailed imagery and there's a maturity in your use of language. I'd certainly read more of this book.