Flames of Lecraesa: Chapter 3 (Arillo)

Writersdomain · 2007-03-31T02:13:26Z

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Another longer chapter. I think I might end up splitting up some of the later chapters into separate ones; some of them are almost 40 pages long. :shock: EDIT: Chapter 4 now posted. Chapter 3: Arillo (Considering new title: Copper Moon) “Creiha, the sun is shining for you. You are not a doormat, so get up!” Creiha opened her heavy eyes a little to see Markus standing above her, a dashing smile lighting his face. “Come on!” Creiha moaned and sat up slowly, smothering a yawn and sneezing. Warm, yellow sunlight oozed into the hall where she lay, making Creiha’s skin crawl at the heat. She wiped her coarse sleeve across her face and squinted. “Markus?” Markus chuckled with a one-sided smile, crossing his arms merrily, “It was quite a shock to find you asleep on the floor.” Returning his smile, Creiha dragged herself to her feet and glanced down at her mud-caked skirt, grimacing. “Do you have any other clothes I can wear?” she asked, shifting in disgust. “No, but I was planning on going to the market tomorrow, and I’m sure we could find something,” Markus answered, eyeing Creiha’s skirt with a hint of embarrassment. “Where’s Strick?” Creiha scanned the room with a puzzled expression. The room seemed strangely empty without his presence, and, when Creiha’s eyes fell upon the fireplace, she noticed that it was still smoldering from last night. “He’s not here,” Markus said unenthusiastically. Worry crossed his face for a moment, but he smothered it with another smile. Creiha blinked, “Where did he go?” she asked, her heart sinking in unexpected disappointment. When Markus didn’t answer immediately, Creiha glanced at his face to see Markus was staring at the door distractedly. “Markus?” “He didn’t say.” “Oh,” Creiha sighed in disappointment and bent over to rub her sore, chafed knees. Her arm no longer ached, but she still felt as if she had walked bare-foot over hot ashes all the way from Sray-Valom. “Why don’t you come and sit down?” Markus offered, gesturing towards the chairs in his small study. The way his voice wavered disturbed Creiha, and she eyed Markus with concern, following him into the study. “Is everything all right, Markus?” she asked in a soft voice, chewing on her lower lip. Markus laughed, a trace of bitterness in his voice, “All right for you, perhaps.” He lit a few worn candles next to the oak desk in his study and pushed a few old papers aside. “What do you mean?” Creiha frowned, but Markus only smirked and gestured once more towards the chairs in his study. Creiha followed him reluctantly, easing into the wooden chair slowly as her eyes scanned the books shelved on the back wall. The spine of each book was badly damaged, fraying at the edges and so dusty the titles were difficult to read; the titles all contained a single word, a word she did not recognize – Lecräesa. “Markus, what is Lecraeyeesa?” Creiha asked, stumbling over the strange word, her eyes glittering with fascination. Markus winced at how Creiha slaughtered the word, but managed a pleasant expression; his face blanched when he sat down, “Creiha…” he began, but soon trailed off and stared down at his fidgeting hands. “Markus, what is wrong?” Creiha asked warily. “Creiha, I need you to know –I need you to understand that because you have seen us, you are in danger.” Markus exhaled shakily and ran one hand through his unkempt hair. “I’m not afraid of danger, Markus.” Creiha protested adamantly, irritated by his doubt in her. “Then you have not seen danger, Creiha. Those who have stood in the peril I speak of fear it without shame.” Markus looked up, regarding her firmly. “I’ve been in danger before,” Creiha griped and eyed her muddy skirt petulantly. “Not this danger,” Markus told Creiha, his olive eyes fixed upon her expression, “I hate to pull you into this, Creiha. Strick and I will send your back to Sray-Valom when he returns, and then, as long as you promise not to tell anyone about this, we can leave you alone. You will never have to see us again. Or if you want us to take you to Mirzintyre, we–” “No! No, Markus, I can’t go back to Sray-Valom. I won’t return to Sray-Valom!” Desperation flooded her expression and she leaned forward, gripping the edge of her chair. “You don’t understand. I can’t return to Sray-Valom, and I don’t want to go to Mirzintyre. Why can’t I remain with you and Strick?” “Creiha–” “Please, Markus, just tell me what Lecräesa is. I can’t hide from danger I don’t understand,” Creiha reasoned, heart leaping within her when Markus’s face softened with compassion, and a slight smile tugged at his mouth. “Lecräesa is lost; she is buried beneath the ashes of time. There are who wish to see her dead and few who fight to see the flameless dragon fly again,” Markus explained with head lowered, staggering over his words with great thought. “Who is Lecräesa?” asked Creiha in wonder, her forest green glowing with unquenchable curiosity. In her mind, she painted the beginning of a grand fairy tale, garnished with gold and slowly blooming before her eyes. Except this was no fairy tale. Markus chuckled at the absurdity of what she said. “Not who, what, Creiha.” “Okay, what is Lecräesa? A fire?” Creiha continued, not dissuaded by Markus’s correction. “No, no.” Markus smirked, and, for a moment, Creiha thought he was going to tease her, but, when he continued, his voice was grave. “She is lost; she is stricken. She once existed, but fell at the hand of Kalinth. You may remember King Hialdrin – King Hedjlon’s father. King Hialdrin attacked Lecräesa, and she collapsed. He burned her o the ground, and, as if he had not already extolled his lust with death, he massacred her people. All who defended her were killed without mercy,” Markus spoke in a low, intense voice, holding Creiha’s eyes with his own as if her gaze was his only condolence. “What was she?” Creiha whispered, forest-green eyes tempering until they glowed with an innocent sorrow. “She is lost,” Markus told Creiha, stroking his chin with one hand and finding a sudden interest in the lines of his desk. “Markus, I know she’s lost, but what was she?” Creiha repeated her question. “I cannot tell you.” Markus shook his head and avoided Creiha’s prying eyes. “What is the point of telling me about this lost fire, place, woman – whatever it is – and then not tell me what it is?” Creiha demanded irascibly, controlling her voice with great effort. Markus stared at Creiha with a serious expression. “You don’t understand, Creiha. It depends on what Strick, Arillo and I decide to do with you. I will not place you in unneeded trouble. I’ve already said too much.” Markus rubbed his right temple and sighed, already regretting how much he had said. “You’ve said nothing, Markus,” Creiha cried, and fell back into her chair angrily. “I’m sorry, Creiha, but Strick and Arillo will be furious if I say anymore.” Markus explained, casting her a sorry smile and leaning back in his own chair. “Who is Arillo?” Creiha asked with a sigh, sitting upright and pushing aside her frustration. “Arillo is a good friend of ours. I believe you will like her.” Markus said, casting Creiha a barbed glance as if Creiha liking Arillo was some form of an insult. “We’ll be traveling to her house in two days.” “Will Strick be back tomorrow?” “There’s no telling,” Markus muttered with displeasure, “Arillo and Strick were never on the best of terms. It's been two years since they last met. It should be interesting.” “Why are they not on the best of terms?” Creiha asked with a frown. Markus shrugged, “Arillo is very critical and Strick is – well, Strick is complicated.” Markus looked uncomfortable talking about the two. “They should be rather civil around you so don’t worry.” “Markus, will you answer me one last question?” Creiha asked, watching Markus carefully. A smirk edging across his features, Markus crossed his arms and said, “Well, that would depend on what the question is, wouldn’t it?” “Who is Strick? He’s not Svarë, but he doesn’t look like he is from Kalinth. And his eyes – I have never seen eyes like his before.” Creiha shifted uneasily when she had finished speaking, staring at Markus with expectance. “If he wants you to know that, he will tell you. I wouldn’t throw away a trust as fragile as his.” Markus shook his head with sudden authority, but with gentleness Creiha admired. Creiha nodded with sour disappointment, her eyes wandering over the books on his shelf, “Are you and Strick- uh- criminals?” Creiha asked timidly, lacing her fingers in her lap. “In some people’s eyes, yes, but people are easily deceived.” Markus sounded regretful, eyes roving over the rows of his books disinterestedly. “Once you enter the labyrinth so few of us have dared to enter, you find it is impossible to escape until you have succeeded. Then, of course, others are born in to the labyrinth, the years of their childhood spent navigating hopelessly through the twists and turns. Those are the most valuable to have beside you, but they are the most rare and the most sought after, the most hunted.” Markus’s eyes were far-away, “They are the ones you try to keep as close as possible lest someone else find them and take them from you, but they are often the ones fearless enough to venture forward while you hide away, afraid to face the path before you.” Markus sighed thoughtfully and glanced at Creiha, realizing once again that he had said too much and reddening. “Well, you shouldn’t be worrying yourself over the likes of us. Besides, you’re still injured and need rest.” Creiha nodded, wishing she understood. She and Markus talked for a few minutes longer, conversation veering in aimless directions until Markus told her he was going to the market today, and he would look for some clothes for her. Eager to meet Arillo and for Strick to return, Creiha wandered restlessly for the rest of the day, having been forbidden by Markus to read anything in his study and warned about going outdoors. Thankfully, Markus did have some ink and paper to lend Creiha, so Creiha spent most of the day composing apologetic letters to Criscialda and feeding them to the fireplace every so often. That night was a stormy one, distant roars of thunder rocking Markus’s small house, a foreboding pall hovering below the churning clouds. Creiha’s mind refused to rest no matter how hard she tried to settle her thoughts. Evidently, the same spoke for Markus for halfway through night Creiha heard him pacing near the fireplace and whispering inaudibly to himself. Creiha wished to join him but was confident that he would not want her listening to his whispers, so she lay there on the shoddy straw mattress and quilts all night, staring up at the ceiling blankly. The next morning was no different; rain had begun to pour down upon the town, and the market was closed for the day because of the storm the night before. Creiha sat in her designated room for hours, just gazing at the rivulets weaving down her windows and the endless bleak clouds outside. Day trudged by wearily until the sky had begun to darken once more with night. Creiha insisted she wasn’t tired when Markus announced she needed her rest. He had looked haggard with worry standing there in her doorway. “We will visit Arillo tomorrow whether it is raining or not,” he informed her wearily and retreated to his study in silence, leaving Creiha alone to spend another miserable night tossing uncomfortably. Miraculously, sleep did manage to envelop Creiha in its comforting arms, and Creiha drifted thankfully into the darkness that was not so bleak as the storm outside. She dreamed of home, of ancient, good times with Criscialda and of the peace of security she had known in Sray-Valom. She did not want to dream of flaming courtyards or gray walls or labyrinths. Creiha wanted to dream of happiness. ~ Notes: impressions on Markus and Creiha would be great. Also, I feel like some of the dialogue is a little awkward. Was it? All crits and comments welcomed. :D

LowKey

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Wed Jul 11, 2007 5:36 am

LowKey says... · Wed Jul 11, 2007 5:36 am

When she felt Strick nad Markus’s eyes resting upon her,

And

...a small mound of stones remembering Arillo.

Wow-- they work fast. I'm guessing that no more than fifteen minutes passed from the moment when she was told to go up stairs to the moment when this is happening.

Impressions:

I really liked it. Creih seemed a little iffy, though. Maybe it's just me. I haven't read these in a while. Wonder what's so special about her? Why is she so important?

Strick is still my favorite character. I felt sad for him when Arillo died, but not sad for Arillo. Still don't know that much about him.

Arillo-- something more to her. it feels like she should have a bigger part. You know how when you read a book, you know which characters are important and which ones aren't? She felt important. Not telling you to bring her back to life. And I wonder what she meant by needing to find the other girls?

Markus-- prone to freaking out. Not freaking out, but:

Markus pursed his lips with displeasure. “What are we going to do with Creiha? If she’s the girl Arillo was talking about, we have to tell her – tell her everything. But if she’s not, well–”

“Everything important, you mean,” Strick added, staring at the ground thoughtfully.

No idea how to describe him. He's worried about what will happen if they take either of the two options, neither of which will work. Strick, however, provides a third option that will work. And he got caught? Markus seems too careful to get caught, but I guess he did.

Necropolis SB / Necropolis DT

Once was Dreamer, is now LowKey_Lyesmith.

Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.

Caligula's Launderette

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Mon Jul 16, 2007 1:46 am

Caligula's Launderette says... · Mon Jul 16, 2007 1:46 am

Hey, hon.

Here is the first parts of Chapter Three. If there is anything illegible please holler.

Ta,
Cal.

Fraser: Stop stealing the blanket.
[Diefenbaker whines]
Fraser: You're an Arctic Wolf, for God's sake.
(Due South)

Hatter: Do I need a reason to help a pretty girl in a very wet dress? (Alice)

Got YWS?

Writersdomain

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Mon Jul 16, 2007 2:02 am

Writersdomain says... · Mon Jul 16, 2007 2:02 am

Thank you so much, Cal!! *huggles* You're always so helpful. And I'll have to take a close look at that Markus smirking thing. I agree that he's not usually one to do that.

~ WD
If you desire a review from WD, post here

"All I know, all I'm saying, is that a story finds a storyteller. Not the other way around." ~Neverwas

Caligula's Launderette

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Mon Jul 16, 2007 2:08 am

Caligula's Launderette says... · Mon Jul 16, 2007 2:08 am

Here is the last part.

Ta,
Cal.

Fraser: Stop stealing the blanket.
[Diefenbaker whines]
Fraser: You're an Arctic Wolf, for God's sake.
(Due South)

Hatter: Do I need a reason to help a pretty girl in a very wet dress? (Alice)

Got YWS?

Writersdomain

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Mon Jul 16, 2007 3:07 am

Writersdomain says... · Mon Jul 16, 2007 3:07 am

Thanks again. And some good points about Strick; part of it does have to do with how he acts around Markus versus how he acts around Creiha, but I'll be definitely be looking for that when I edit that scene again.

~ WD
If you desire a review from WD, post here

"All I know, all I'm saying, is that a story finds a storyteller. Not the other way around." ~Neverwas

Twit

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Mon Jul 16, 2007 11:31 pm

Twit says... · Mon Jul 16, 2007 11:31 pm

'Tis good.

Just don't carry on saying about Creiha's "forest green eyes" so much, and try not to repeat names either.

Otherwise, I'm enjoying this. ^_^ As for characters and impressions... Strick's mysterious, Creiha's good to empathise with and Markus looks to be a good balance between the two. Is "Strick" short for "stricken"? Good idea, if it is. ^_^

"TV makes sense. It has logic, structure, rules, and likeable leading men. In life, we have this. We have you." -Abed Nadir

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