The Trap

The Trap

A Chapter by Darruesh Eetraydes

The group moved swiftly through the cramped alleyways, with Gerik leading. Silently they padded through the streets; the increasing murmuring of people told them that they were drawing closer. The alley way suddenly grew darker as the dark clouds in the sky began to thicken.

“It’s going to rain soon” Fletcher commented.

“Good, it should impede their vision, and help out our small numbers” Gerik commented. He studied the sky.

“Ha, you are always thinking ahead” Landon said.

“That’s more of a recent development,” Nzingha whispered.

“Shut up sis” Gerik replied, annoyed.

Jaecar Landon took the lead. He spotted small handholds in the side of the building. He silently climbed upward, shifting his weight accordingly, and sidled up the building like a spider. Gerik followed next just as gracefully, followed by Nzingha. Fletcher stared at his companions with disbelief.

“Come on” Jaecar whispered once he reached the top.

“I can’t do that! I’m not strong enough.” Fletcher replied. He kicked a pebble next to him, and it bounced off the building, causing an echo.

“So what, are you going to give up on your sister and that girl you like?” Gerik asked.

“Brother, stop teasing him” Nzingha scolded. Gerik’s expression didn’t change in the least. Fletcher found Gerik’s cold light brown eyes staring down on him.

“You didn’t answer my question. If you are going to give up, then at least give me my father’s sword back. I gave it to you because I thought you were willing to fight for them” Gerik said. Fletcher continued to match Gerik’s deadly gaze but couldn’t. He took a deep breath and reached for a small slit in the wall. Jumping and using his arms to guide him, he desperately grabbed another crack. His arms shook as he continued up, gradually getting farther until he reached the lip. A hand reached, Fletcher took it, and he was helped over the edge onto the roof. He looked up to see it was Gerik whom helped him over.

“I knew you had it in you” Gerik said to him. Gerik turned and followed Landon as he jumped over the rooftops.

“Hurry up Fletcher, or we’ll leave you this time” Nzingha called out. Fletcher couldn’t stop himself from chuckling as he followed her. He never knew the strength he had obtained through the training. Even though his arms had not gotten much bigger, his muscles reacted with trained ease that he didn’t know was possible for him.

Jaecar Landon jumped easily from rooftop to rooftop. The roofs creaked dangerously. Years of disrepair left evident on the many surfaces. The deeper they moved into the slums, the worse and shorter the buildings became, until they were barely two stories up. He stopped and watched as the poor commoners ran or limped towards the excitement. These people are probably only happy because this is the only time they can look down on someone. Landon thought. The stench of unwashed bodies and death wafted into his nostrils. He was glad that he had a cloth covering his face otherwise the stench would cause him to gag. The commoners positioned themselves on the side of the road, and watched as seven monks walked down the street with a teen in tow. Six heavily cloaked monks, with three on each side, clad in black robes walked with Francis. The teen, with his hands bound in thick ropes, walked beside Francis with his head down. The people yelled in anger, some laughed at the teen’s misfortune, and others threw mud balls at him. Landon saw Francis’s lips move. He couldn’t hear him, but from the movement he read,” just endure for now.”

“Why are you making that face?” Gerik asked. He landed and stood beside Landon.

“Nothing… it’s just my warrior senses is telling me this is a trap” the ex monk whispered. He crouched down, letting his eyes look for clues of an ambush. Nzingha and Fletcher landed on the building next to theirs.

“We should wait, even though the crowd could serve as good chaos for us to escape.” Nzingha commented. The wind blew towards her causing the stink of the slums into her nostrils. She gagged silently.

“Wait, why? Fletcher asked.

“She doesn’t want them to become collateral damage,” Gerik answered. Gerik slowly moved the bow off his back, pulled an arrow out of the quiver, and set the arrow into ready position.

The crowd grew more restless. Shoes and rocks replaced the mud. The residents of the slums cursed and jeered at the teen. Francis erected a shield around the child and himself, easily protecting themselves from the projectiles. All the while, Francis’s lips moved, but he could not be heard over the roar of thunder. Rain began to fall lightly.

“There might not be a better time though” Fletcher injected.

“Yes, but” Landon began. “Looks like someone else is going to take the bait” he pointed.

The group followed Landon’s finger to figures hurriedly moving through the crowd. It grew harder to make them out as they maneuvered through the throng of people. A young man entered the street with a rust covered sword in his hands. The sword began to glow bright blue. His sword left a blue arc in the air as he swung it. The monk dressed in black couldn’t get his sword out fast enough. The rebel’s sword cut off his head. The monk beside the headless man screamed. Using her psychic powers she turned it into a horrid wail. Everyone grabbed their ears and close their eyes. Most crumbled to their knees unable to hear their own screams. She charged forward. The brave lad swung his sword weakly, trying to keep her at bay, but as she moved closer the sound intensified. Easily, she dodged his attack, tore his sword from his hand, and hit him with a jaw breaking kick, leaving him sprawled out onto the street.

One after another, thunder resounded like the beat of a drum. Francis smiled “see people of New Carson City! The devils chosen cannot beat the church. We are-” lightning streaked downward catching the lady monk in the chest, sending her into the crowd, while taking five people down with her. The remaining monks immediately crouched down as more four more people from the crowd urged forth. A short petite girl with long flowing hair ran towards the nearest monk quickly with a dagger in each hand. The monk held out one hand and focused. His hand began to glow bright red. She moved with amazing speed. Her hair waved like tentacles. Some of her hair wrapped around his outward hand. The monk’s hand began to become brighter. She felt her blood stop in her veins. She dropped the dagger in her left hand involuntarily.

“You can’t control me” she snarled. She focused all her anger, pain, and hopes into a mental barrier. With a primal scream and a flushed red vision, she stabbed him with her dagger in the throat repeatedly. He slumped down wordlessly. She looked up from her latest victim and ran towards another monk who was busy fending himself off from two rebels, until a lightning bolt took him in the face. Smoke rose from his clothes. The smell of burnt clothes drifted from him, but still he kept attacking, slashing his sword left and right. Surprised, that anyone could survive such a devastating attack the two rebels couldn’t defend themselves. The monk’s sword gorged itself on the flesh of the man on his right when it pierced his gut, leaving him to crumble.

“How can he still see!?” the rebel beside the smoking monk asked. The rebel fell back still wondering how the monk could still attack him with smoke blocking his vision.

“It doesn’t matter Kel just knock him back” she yelled.

“Alright Jenia” the rebel focused, using his psychic power of force to fling the monk backwards. The monk’s feet didn’t leave the ground, but he was still knocked back five feet. When the rebel finally saw the monk’s face he silently wept. The monk didn’t have a face or eyes for that matter. He found a skull staring back at him. Purple flames filled the eye sockets. Purple tattoos danced along its face, making its perpetual smile creepy. A woman in the crowd screamed in horror.

“What is he?” Kel asked. He focused again and again, pounding the monk with an unseen force, crushing him to the ground.

“Kel run!!” Jenia screamed. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his side. Kel looked to see Jenia beside him with her dagger deep in his side. Tears ran unchecked down her face.

“Why Jenia?” he asked weakly. Kel fell to one knee. Blood gathered into a pool at his feet.

“I’m being controlled” Jenia replied. Kel  

 “The one true God has brought back people from the dead before” Francis called out from behind his shield.


© 2011 Darruesh Eetraydes

Author's Note

Darruesh Eetraydes
Dang its been to long since i wrote something for this book

My Review

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Wow, this chapter has lots of tense excitement in it. You described the battle scene very well, I could visualize it as I read. Excellent job!

Posted 11 Years Ago

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Added on January 31, 2011
Last Updated on February 1, 2011


Darruesh Eetraydes
Darruesh Eetraydes


Yo whats up people! I'm a 19 year old class clown from Texas. I've recently gotten into writing and I'm trying to get better at it. I'm better at telling stories orally, but hey I got start at some po.. more..