Queens and Sorcerers

        Chapter One

  A Letter to the Dead lands

  The night was cold, frigid, the moon was dim, concaved and held a bluish tint.  A young sorcerer, dressed in a midnight blue cloak, journeys across the dead lands in pursuit of his long once thought to be dead brother.   Alone and blinded by darkness fear haunted his every step.  The land was void and hollow, filled with an emptiness that seemed to stretch on for eternity.  It was no place for an underage sorcerer, even the elders showed a hint of terror when brought into discussion.  Still, the young sorcerer continued on keeping his mind distracted from fear and the thought that at any moment the savage beasts that still roamed the land could be hunting him.

    The dead lands were once called The Nile and inhabited the vastest vegetation in all of Aires.   Fields stretched on for as far as the eye could see full of color and aromas of luscious scent.   One could lose themselves in the smells alone, calling it to die for. 

   But now waterless and without light, nothing could ever grow here again.  Death swept the lands like a pack of hawks swooping over there prey.  A black shroud weaved itself into the sky like a blanket, sealing off the heavens and stripping the land of light and warmth from the sun. 

  The sweet smells from once ripped luscious fruits turned to a foul unpleasant almost unbearable odor, leaving a lurid taste in ones mouths, from not breathing through the nose.  The arrays of color filled fruits and vegetables turned to a dark, dead brown and a cold grey. The trees hunched over without leaves and dieing bark falling from their limbs, they looked hundreds of years old and you would never of known they once bared fruit unless you'd seen it.   The Nile was now all but death.

   The dehydrated plants crunched beneath the sorcerer's feet, along with half rotted cores of dead fruit and vegetables. With every stride he sank deep tracks into the cold brush.    The ground was unevenly tilled, making his journey a painful struggle.   His staff, which normally hung from a sash on his back, became a crutch giving him light and much needed support. 

 His sword, tied to his waist and inside its sheath, dangled low and to the left, it clanked as each hard step forced it against his armored shin.    Narrow strips of long leather, in a crisscrossed fashion, gave the handle its non slip grip and held securely firm a sapphire to the butt of the handle.   The blade was jagged on both side, sharp enough to sever a dragons head, and still carried the stench of burnt steel.  

    He maintained a steady but swift pace through the fields, passing the mile stones that once painted a forgotten highway.  His long pure white hair was tied back into a ponytail.    He wore the hood on his robe up keeping any loose strands from flying in his face, from the strong gusts that plastered him. He stopped for a moment to ease the pain in his legs and drink from his hide water bag, when he was struck by the sudden feeling of being watched. He reached out with his mind and could sense someone in the distant, but the feelings weren't threatening.

  After a few good gulps of the cleanest, clearest, unblemished water, he pulled from his brown leather purse a letter.

  The letter had arrived two nights ago, and was the reason for this dreadful journey. It contained a map with a trail drawn out, through the dead lands to Aggron's, then the great wall.

  Beyond the great wall was a Queen's castle. No doubt that's where he'd be going. As he checked his direction on the map he gazed upon the few bits of potatoes still remaining on the letter and started to remember the details of that night.

   The dim moon cast a brief shadow over the Logan’s house which lay deep in worm wood forest. A place where the last few trees stood strong and fertile carrying leaves and pine needles that concealed them from any unwanted threat.

   Not many dwindled here as it was said to be haunted by ancient spirits and a beast that came out of the mountains to hunt every few years.      

     The dinner table was an unsuitable place for controversy in the Logan house, but when the letter's arrival plopped down in the old man's mashed potatoes, young Seth could not hold his tongue.  The old man grasped the letter in a firm hand, slapping off what potatoes were stuck upon it.   Dam Herald, he thought to himself, as Herald finished his fly across the table, snatching up a dinner roll.

  With a quick glance he set it aside and returned to his plate for his next bite.  The table was set for five even though only three attended it, as if someone would be arriving shortly to join them. It had been like this for many years. Mother, white haired and in her red night robe, sat with a fixed curious eye upon him (to his right).   News was scarce in these dark times.   Seth also fixed his eyes upon him, (to his left) often looking down at the letter.   The old man went on eating his potatoes and corn beef, as if the matter didn't distract his hunger one bit.   But the long cold stares of interest finally impelled him to speak out.   In a deep strict tone almost angry like, "After supper” he said, looking side to side, first at his wife Beth, then towards Seth.    Overly anxious and impulsive Seth couldn't contain his words. “But it bares the mark of an elder."  The old man yelped out vigorously "SETH"   as his fist slammed down on the table, disturbed by his defiance.  Seth's eyes went down like a scorn puppy.

  Time seemed to wear down rapidly as they both sat there, aimlessly waiting for father to finish.   In truth, the news was nagging in his mind as well, and without finish he dropped his fork mid-height.  He slid his chair out from under the table and the rest followed ensue.   No one else showed up to attend dinner that night.  

  In the study the old man offers Seth a drink of brandy.   He prepared two cylindrical glasses of ice as if he knew or just assumed he would accept. Seth didn't really care for the stuff, but he felt the need to partake in the old man's after dinner desire. Feeling this time was as good as any.

  The old man took seat at his desk with his glass of brandy and the letter. The letter had been delivered from a few hundred miles away and still carried bits of potatoes on it.

   The old man had sort of a half smile growing on his face, as this had been the first news he had handled since the last tournament invite witch is only held every four years.

  The thought of bad news occurred to him, and the somewhat of a half grin was washed away.

  He opened the top drawer of his desk, retrieved his silver letter opener, and in a single dice, broke the candle wax seal that bonded the two half’s together (and that bared the mark of an elder).    He unfolded the two half’s only to notice It was blank.  

He waved his hand over the parchment, (only his blood and the blood of the Logan house would have access to this message's secrets) whispered a few words, and the message suddenly appeared in a bloody red ink. It read: 'Your son is alive send aid we need him.'

There was a map drawn out on the bottom half showing the almost precise location of him.    The old man looked up in a kind of ease felt way.  The feeling of knowing his child was alive had eluded him for quite some time.  He turned to Seth and said, “Go pack your things Seth, you are leaving tomorrow."  

"Where am I going Father?"  Seth replied feeling curious and awe but still maintained a serious composure. As this was a serious matter. 

"To rescue your brother."  He said in a sorrow filled sigh.

  Mother's hands covered her face with joyful but yet sad full tears. For she now knew Sarek was alive, and that Seth would soon be leaving.         She had been crying a bit on hand, as she felt the news of the letter entailed to her son, just not of what, and now it seemed to entail both her sons.     Seth staggered out, after pounding down the rest of his brandy in a single gulp. It was bitterly sweet, and with a low tolerance the buzz hit him hard and quick. 

   The old man embraced his wife with a comforting hug. He spoke soft kind words to ensure her things would be okay.  She very much disapproved of sending her last son out into the cold darkened world, but knew she had no choice, as it was ordered down by an elder. She wept a few short gasps before speaking out for the first time.

 "You’re not seriously considering this are you?" Her tears dried up and the appearance on her face showed serious objection.

"I don't see what choice we have; my powers are still bound to the oracle."

"Dam that prophecy and its price; it’s brought us nothing but hardship."

"That prophecy saved our lives." The old man's voice raised and grew firm.

 "Be that as it may, and Sarek?"

The old man's eyes hit the floor and filled with sorrow.

"Sarek chose his own path, but he is still alive and we must act fast if we are to save him."

Bethany’s head nodded convincingly and she didn't refute any further.

"Send Herald to watch over him” she pleaded.  

"I will" the old man replied, and after a short warm kiss to his cheek she retired to bed.   The old man yowled out for his herald. A call that would carry for miles but could only be heard by them.   

  Herald's are diminutive creatures and have fairy like wings. They move with great haste witch makes catching one an illustrious event. They are messengers mostly, but are often used for other tasks as well, and once caught they are bound to there catcher. Herald's are very old and possess powerful magic, a great asset for good or evil.   They have no names and are referred to as just Herald. 

   Herald appeared out of a blue gleaming orb of light above the old man's desk.  His wings made a low humming noise as he descended. 

  The bluish hue from his body illuminated the room more then the candles themselves. His ears were sticking straight up, like a dog after hearing the word "out" or "treat". He had a stoned like smile or grin on his face, as if he was full of mischief and most likely he was.

"Yes master Logan" he said in a little squeaky voice, as he landed on the only clear portion of the desk. 

"I have a few tasks for you" the old man demanded. His voice was deep and strong and carried a serious tone.

"Happy to serve the Logan house I am."  Herald replied in his giddiest way.

 "I have a reply for the elder who sent this." 

The old man folded his letter and stamped it with a seal of wax. He pressed down hard making sure their family crest was deeply imprinted. 

"But first, drop in on the Priest, tell him I’m sending my son over for a blessing at mid-day, and hurry back as you will keep a watchful eye on Seth, as he journeys through the dead lands."  

"But no watchman am I." Herald replied in a cocky voice. “And even paid they get" he returned again.  On any other day the old man would have found humor in this, but not tonight. 

The old man spoke, rising up his voice a bit.

"Herald" 

"Okay, Okay, Okay as if better things to do I don't have."  He took the letter and with a snap of his finger he disappeared into the same blue orb he had arrived in on.   The old man finished his brandy in one fine gulp, blew out his candles, and retired to bed as well.

Reviews

[Claudia Stark]

I feel like this story has a lot of possibility, maybe slow the pacing some and develop the characters more fully. Keep going, I could see this really going somewhere.

[Anina]

I really enjoy your metaphors!
I think we have very similar grammar problems.. which is actually kinda cool!
Keep going! :D

[Jetta Zippora]

Wow. This is beautiful writing. Great details and intriguing characters. Can't wait for more.

[Zerth]

Thanks I will have more posted soon.

[Kaitlynn Kelly]

Great, clear images. The only thing I'd say (that hasn't already been mentioned): I wouldn't start the whole story in passive voice ("The night was cold"). Active voice, n my opinion, is a great way to invite the reader.

[InsanityWriter]

Very interesting. :) I'd like to see where you go with this! ^_^ Great job!

[Erinne S.]

If you are beginning a book with this, then you started off very well. There are a few minor grammatical issues and such, but nothing some proofreading couldn't fix. Great start and good luck with the continuation if you do continue with this story!

~Erinne

[Zerth]

Hey thanks. This is the beginning of a book I'm writting and I have alot more that I will post latter.

[Zerth]

Please review!!!!