Episode Three- 21

Episode Three- 21

A Chapter by ShaneBerry
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Terron celebrates his 21 birthday by hideing out in a cave and reading his mothers diary.

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Episode Three: 21


His black eyes peered into the goblet as he pressed the metal edge of the goblet to his chapped lips, his throat made a loud annoying sound as he gulped the red elixir down. His skin was a pale peach color, and he wore the clothing of a warrior, black thick denim pants, and steel toe zip-up boots. A sleeveless cotton zip-up coat with the zipper un-done. On his right shoulder he wore a mirror coated metal armor piece, and on his hands were knuckle less black gloves with a tribal design on the back.

                As he finished his last gulp of the smooth ruby elixir he lowered the metal goblet and sat it down on the dresser in front of him, Terron, now twenty one years old would soon join the Blayders division of the military, he had not yet told his Step-father, as the fuehrer of Minoa, it was he who would decide if Terron was ready to join. 

                The old tattered journal sat on his dresser, taunting him with its yellow pages, multiple liquid stains, and thick leather cover. He was now ready and able to read it, but he was afraid of what it would say. What if they were not proud of him? What if it was useless information that he didn’t need anyway? Whatever the case, Terron would soon know. He turned his attention away from the book and thought about the past three years, after the creation of his blade he had became a named whispered in every home from Minoa to the ruins of Harappan. Never before had a blade of this type been made, Judas joked that it was just a giant kitchen knife, but even he knew there was something different about the blade in its self, its size should have made it impossible to lift, especially for scrawny little Terron, but if that wasn’t weird enough it was thick on the back, and razor thin to the point. The blade was with Terron at all times, and he constantly trained with it, it had become a part of him that would never leave.

                “Terron, come on! It’s almost time for your party!” shouted Judas from the door, but as he Opened it he realized Terron was gone, and so was the Journal, a clean, dustless rectangle sat were the dust had covered the book for the past three years. The only window in his room was wide open letting the dark rain drip onto the windowsill. Judas looked out the wet window and shouted

                “You better not get a cold on your birthday you punk!” he then left the room to spread the news that Terron had gone out for the day.

Meanwhile Terron was running through the trees, clenching the leather book tightly, he wanted there to be no distractions as he read his mothers final words. Each drop of freezing cold rain that pierced his flesh shocked his system as he plundered through the forest, he finally reached an old cave were he used to camp when he was tired of the pampered life, which was a lot.

The moss covered stones were slippery at first, but as Terron climbed up to the very top of the cliff he could see the dark essence of the cave opening, as he entered the cave he started a fire with the large amount of dry wood he had stored in the back of the cave, along with many non-perishable food and drink item

  Terron slowly walked to the back of the cave, were a small box of matched sat, untouched for many months. He piled the wood, twigs and leaves he had kept dry into a small pyramid, he then stuck the match against the stone floor, the scent of the burning phosphorus filled his nostrils as he tossed the match into the pile, the fire then became great, Terron surrounded the edges of the wood with stones to prevent it from jumping too far.

He then sat back onto a large log he had stored a long time ago, his blade sat next to him, it was motionless, but almost seemed alive.  He slowly opened the tattered book, the first page had an ink hand print, and the size was an infant, probably even a new born.

 

He opened to the next page of the journal, and began to read the words, inscribed in very rough Minoan handwriting, as if it were written by someone who did not normally write in this language.

 

 

My Son,             Apr.13

          If you are alive, your childhood maid has made sure that you see this journal. I do not even know if I am alive as you read these pages, and your father is off fighting in the war on the Harappan people, those awful men from Minoa are killing those poor people, for land. Because your father does not want there to be unrest in our fair land, he has made the education services in Gonur not teach about the events leading up to this war.  But as the future emperor of Gonur you deserve to know the truth, the man who rules the Minoa kingdom, is a tyrant, a ruthless monster who is driven by false idols and the want to rule us all.

He believes that if he can find a weapon strong enough, he can rule the world as a god himself, while searching for this weapon he came across the numerous, small, weapon-less villages in the Harappan nation, and when they did not give him what he believed they had, he ordered their execution, soon the Angor Watt nation got involved and stormed the occupancies of the Minoan armies, and the true conflict began.

Now your father, the Emperor has left the kingdom to go and help the Angor Watt defeat the Minoan Army.”

 

 

Terron was wide eyed by this point, the first page in his mothers journal, revealed so much to him that he had to set it down to catch his breath and sanity. Since he was brought to Minoa he had been taught that the Gonur nation and the Minoan nation were allies in this war, but what concerned him that much more, was the fact that he, Terron, the poor penniless child that the Fuehrer had “saved” from the war, was the heir to the Gonur throne. He paced around the cave, scratching his head, twitching and shaking realizing that his whole understanding of the world was fake. But he continued reading on; he knew that this information would be vital for his future.

“My Son   May .11

Your father has sent some seeds of the Papayas that grow in the mangrove canals in the Angor Watt forest, I planted a few of them in the royal garden, they are sure to get the attention they need there. Hopefully your father will return in time to see it grow, in his letters he speaks of how much he has enjoyed snacking on these fruits while he and his men rest from the battle. I am glad to hear he is pacing himself, I just hope he does not return with a gut, which would be embarrassing for him. If your father does not return from the war though, here is a picture of him, and here is a small bag with a seed from the papaya your father sent.”

Terron then picked up the small photo of a man; he had long black hair, which was mostly held up in a bun, with a hairpiece holding the bun up. The man did not smile in this picture, but he did not smile either. The man in this photo reminded Terron of Stone, earth, rock, emotionless and calculating. Not a man who would raise a son and send seeds to his wife while he was serving in a war, there were allot of mixed descriptions of his father in this entry. The small paper bag was folded several times to where it was concealed into the pages, as Terron opened the baggie he could see a tiny pale seed, he took it out of the bag and examined it closely, it had a crease down the side, and still had very dry pieces of fruit on it as well, Terron placed it into the paper bag again and continued reading again.

“My son               Aug.4

            Today I am so proud of you, you have began training under General Giap, he says that even though you are only five years of age, you fight as if you are a seasoned beginner, and that by this time two years from now you will be a true force to be reckon with.

He says that you are able to wield blades that are much larger than normal, and that you have infinity for acrobatic avoidance maneuvers and hand to hand fighting movements. He believes that it was the mixing of both my blood and your father’s royal blood that lead to the creation of your fighting skills.

I know it will be hard for you to believe this, but I am in fact a martial arts champion, the day your father and I met was at a tournament when he was young, I can remember this like it was yesterday, your father had snuck away from his escort, and placed the disguise of a monk on to join the tournament, being of royal decent he could not take part in a peasant fighting tourney. We fought as the final match against each other and I beat him.

There was a swarm of arrow flying at me as I went to help him up, and in the blink of an eye your father cut each of the arrows down with a blade he kept hidden in his monk robe. From that day on your father and I were deeply in love, and the day after your grandfather gave the title of emperor to your father, we found that I was pregnant with you my son.

Do not ever forget, that you are my pride and my joy. I love you my son.”

Terron whipped the tears from his eyes as he read this, he knew what this journal was meant to do for him, it was meant to renew his memories, but even though he could faintly remember the training drills and the painful weight training of general Giap, he still felt like he needed to know more, unfortunately, there were several pages torn out, and the dozens that remained were empty. He stood then walked to the edge of the cave, clutching the diary in his hand, he looked out to the misty rain filled forest.

    He thought of how several hours ago he had everything planned out, and now he was lost. He put out the fire, and picked up his blade to start the trek home, he was forming a plan, to confront the fuehrer about what happened. But to first go through with his Blayder training. He ran through the rain as swiftly as he could, as he reached the gates of the mansion he leapt over them in a flawless back flip, he was then met by Fredrick the driver.

               “Ah, Terron, always makes a big fuss? It is your party in there you know?” he spoke through his moustache. He always seemed to know where Terron was, and what he was planning.

               “Yes sir, I am going in now.” He answered; there was a feeling of tension as Fredrick stared at him while he walked to the front door of the manor.  Fredrick did not move until Terron was completely inside the front hall, Terron felt as if he was being spied on.

The front hallway was massive and spotless, it was a long stretch of completely white walls and furniture, benches and coat racks lined its walls. The hall was sterile of all color and feeling, just the way the Fuehrer’s study was, Terron was now entering the study, awaiting the impending scolding he would receive for being absent at his own party. After reading the journal, Terron didn’t even know how he would look at the man he once called father, but he knew if he was going to continue with his plans that he had to put on the rouge of being his son, which shouldn’t be too difficult seeing as the last twenty-one years of his life were spent doing the same thing.

               The study was void of color and lit so brightly that as Terron entered his eyes were burnt from the light. The only thing that distinguished the sides of the walls from each other was a bookshelf on the back wall, completely filled with books of all different mediums. Maximilien sat in his chair with a glass of brandy, his desk lay in front of him with open books and papers filled with scribbles, and he had recently been studying something.

               “Terron? Why are you here son?” he asked in his usual charismatic tone with a smile. Terron gulped, what could the punishment for being absent at your birthday party be?

               “I was absent today; I did not show for my own celebration, even though you sent for most of the senior staff to be here. I have come to receive my punishment sir.” Terron answered slightly shaking, not from fear, but from anger as he stood there explaining himself to the man who caused his parents deaths.

               The Fuehrer raised one of his neatly groomed blond eyebrows in confusion, then replied,

               “Terron, you are twenty one years old. I am not angered by the fact that you did not show up for your celebration. I am very sure you missed it for a good reason. Judas informed us that you were not in your bedroom so we were not waiting for very long.” He chuckled through his blond bearded chin.  

               “Besides, it was mainly a bunch of stuffed coats speaking of the war.” He then leaned back in his chair and looked at Terron, who was by now sweating from frustration.

               “Was there something else on your mind son?” he asked leaning forward placing his chin on his folded over fingers. Terron then stood very straight and said,

               “Sir! I want to become a Blayder! I am now of proper age, and I believe my skills will be best utilized on the battle field!”Terron then relaxed his pose as Maximilien stood and turned looking out the window.

               Maximiliens eyes filled with worry, he knew that if he denied Terron’s request that it could lead to him running away, which he could not let happen, but if he were to join the military he would discoverer what truly happened during the war.

               “Very well, tomorrow I will have Fredrick take you to the training facility. I will have you know Terron; just because you are my son does not mean they will train you lightly.” Maximilien Answered with a face of pure seriousness.

               “I am prepared sir. What should I take?” Terron asked still very angry.

               “Nothing, you take the clothes on your back, and your blade. That’s how it is done.” Answered Maximilien, his calm charismatic demeanor was now gone and replaced with the militaristic dictator that Terron had never met. A calculating cold man.

               Terron then left the study, as he did a man who was standing against the wall, out of Terron’s eye line stepped forward; he wore a full suit, with neatly groomed gray hair, and a smug expression on his face.

               “Things are happening quickly my Fuehrer. First Milos speaks out against you, and then you send me in to take these pages from his mother’s journal. If he knew what this war was all about, I don’t know if he would even be capable of pretending to respect you.” Said the man as he walked over to the desk, he placed the torn out pages onto the desk, and then looked over at the Fuehrer who was looking out of the window intently at Fredrick.

               “Thank you Aldrich, your talents have once again diverted our plans from catastrophe.” Maximilien said, as he did Aldrich bowed and left the room.

 

Terron sat on his bed; he was eager and excited, angered, and depressed. The man he had called father for the past many years of his life, could be a fraud. But Terron still had no idea if what the journal stated was the truth, it might have been meant for another child, perhaps his father was general Giap, and the boy who is spoken of in the journal is the true heir to the throne, regardless, Terron knew he would have to travel to Gonur to find the real answers. But first he would need the clearance of a Blayder to be allowed to travel from nation to nation. And his Blayder training would begin very soon. 




© 2011 ShaneBerry



Author's Note

ShaneBerry
Next Episode four!- And so it Begins!
hope you enjoy!

My Review

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Reviews

really loveing it!!
but the first line,
"His black eyes peered into the goblet as he pressed the metal edge of the goblet to his chapped lips, his throat made a loud annoying sound as he gulped the red elixir down."
in my opinion the second goblet isnt really nessacary, just saying "as he pressed the metal edge to his chapped lips" would be enough.

okay moveing on from that
HOLEY HELL!
:D im excited.
and your AMAZING.
HOW DO YOU DO THAT!!!!!
CAPS LOCK ISNT FREAKING BIG ENOUGH!!
if i wasn't laying down i would be on the edge of my seat.

~calms down~
okay, lets start over, your amazing!
how do you do that...was refering to make such amazing forshadowing, set up such good questions and only give glimpses at the awnsers.
wow.
:D i again re- state.
Christopher Paolini,
with just a little editing, which im sure wont be too dificult, grammer and stuff this will be completly Flawless.

if i may make a suggestion, reading things out loud always helps me. when i read it in my head i say it like i intended to write it. not nesacaraly like how i wrote it. when i read it out loud i find mistakes easier, things i misspelled. things that dont match up...its helpful.

overall i love it. incase i didnt make that VERY CLEAR.
moveing onto the next chapter.
SO EXCITED.

.novelists.elite.info.
.display. .ana.016.
.memberID. 016
.division. II
.division.leader. Shane
.name. Arianna
.username. nerdypenguin2427
.novels. Sanctuary, Right Side Up
.status. Reader, Early Writer, Role Model
.join date. 04-03-2011

Posted 6 Years Ago


It Begins!!
I've decided that Terron is a kick-a*s character.
I look forward to seeing what happens to him next.

Posted 6 Years Ago


0 of 1 people found this review constructive.

A amazing chapter. I like the pace of the story. The interaction of character is making the story feel real. I like the set-up of this chapter. A lot of new discoveries in the chapter. I like the desire of training and becoming better. A excellent chapter.
Coyote

Posted 6 Years Ago


0 of 1 people found this review constructive.

You're developing the story well, but add more description and detail.

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

You're story is moving very nicely!
One error I think needs correcting: "infinity" should be "affinity."

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on August 1, 2010
Last Updated on March 14, 2011
Tags: hero, soldier, memorial, death, rebirth, love, hate, morning, sword, fantasy, war, life, human, culture, fiction, poetry, story, prequel


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ShaneBerry
ShaneBerry

denton, TX



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My Chemical Romance “The Ghost of You” Name: Shane Douglas Berry Age: Born on 8/4/1992 Hair color: Brown Eye color: Green Skin color: White, Freckled Tattoos: Oroborus (red, center.. more..

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