Spirit Tamer: The Ninth Gate

Spirit Tamer
Part One: The Ninth Gate

By C. Flynn
These ideas, characters, events in this text, or this text as a whole may not be reproduced in any manner. This text may be posted by soulwolf at TeenageWriters.

WARNING: This story contains violence and may contain adult themes. This is my first revision of the novel, so I'm unsure of how adult I want to go. I do know for sure that there is violence for sure.

NOTE: I haven't decided whether or not to give each title a specific name, so I put my proposed name in parenthesese by the title number. It's not final yet, so tell me what you think of the names. I've been working pretty hard on this to clear things up and make things easier to understand at the beginning (since that's what others said needed the most work) so please let me know if there's anything that's confusing or needs work.

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Chapter One (First Encounter)
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Lyra glanced quickly across the darkened oak table as he sat there waiting for her to continue. Does he know? she thought desperately, turning her eyes back down to the wood, afraid he could see some trace of her secret in her doubtful eyes. Dark lines had long ago been worn into the aged wood, following the grooves of the wood where grime and dust had been pressed into its unpolished top. The shimmering luster of the golden cup sitting ominously on the table contrasted vibrantly against the wood. Old carvings twisted across its surface, coiling around it like tiny vines and tiny rubies budded off like little fruits. Around its base, sharp-edged runes wrapped around the goblet, showing the effort and craftsmanship that had been put into detailing it. The dark crimson liquid inside waited for her, undisturbed as the cup rested on the table.

Slowly Lyra stretched her fingers, cautiously reaching for the goblet, eyeing the cup as though it were a snake ready to inject its venom as the scarlet liquid passed down her throat into her body. Surely he could see the trembling of her fingers and the ghostly paleness that had come to her face. Her fingertips wrapped lightly around the cool, clean neck of the cup.

Why did he choose this cup? she thought, her eyes following the ancient runes around the cups base. Once before, she had seen the cup sitting quietly atop the mantelpiece. She remembered her curiosity over the runes, whose meanings until now were unbeknownst to her. Lifting the cup, she turned her emerald eyes down toward the liquid, which lay like a dark shadow in the glittering cup, before looking across the table toward Nickolas, who only sat wordlessly watching her. Not this cup. I could have pretended to do it... but not with this cup. When the liquid touched her lips, it would be betrayal to her people and all those who had died. There’s no way I’m pledging Shaduf na Tor from that memorial cup… Lyra ran her thumb slowly across the runes, now knowing the words that had been inscribed there. “REMEMBER THE FIRST. REMEMBER THE FALLEN.” At a different time, she would have been honored to drink from that cup... to remember those who had died when the first Spirit came… but not now... not for the Icaran rite of Shaduf na Tor: a pledge to Icara and death to all Torians.

Lyra turned her eyes unconsciously toward her arm that held the cup. Her black long-sleeved shirt could only hide the Torian markings that had covered her forearms. She could visualize the ritual tattoos that only appeared after a Torian Awakening. If he lifts up my sleeve, he’ll see. As easy as that, he’d know she had Awoken… the charade would be over. With the Awakening, she’d realized who she was and, now, who Nickolas must be. Is he testing me? He seemed to be looking right through her, waiting for her to show who she really was.

“Like this?” she said, lifting the cup a little higher, trying to stall him while she thought of a solution.

“Perfect,” his voice seethed, as he leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table.

What’ll happen to me? she thought desperately. If I don’t drink, he’ll know. If I do... betrayal. He might kill me... His so-called job as a police officer made a perfect cover. He carried his weapon at all times and ended up being the one responsible for Lyra. He was surely a military dog of the Icaran Defense Agency, more commonly known as the IDA. She would be outmatched, even if he didn’t have his gun. Lyra slowly lifted the cup closer to her lips. She could feel the metal just touch her lips when...

I ... love it.

No, that's not a strong enough word. I'm not sure what to say, except that this is an *amazing* piece. This is the first time in a long time that I forgot I was on a website, reading someone's most recent post in a forum.

My only suggestion would be to change the first sentence.

Lyra glanced quickly across the darkened oak table at him sitting there, waiting for her to continue.

Either lengthen the description of who "he" is or abandon it ... the "at him sitting there" makes the sentence a little awkward. It might work if you replaced it with something like "... oak table, to where he was sitting, waiting for ..."

May I reiterate ... I *LOVE* this.

~ aisho

Short, moderately well written first chapter, that in the end, means little. Name dropping, obscure but cool sounding rituals and races remain just that: names. There is little of the intended effect those words are meant to have, because we the readers, know nothing of that. No pictures or information comes to mind so we're left wondering what the hell is going on. Normally, a little bit of this is okay, its a perfect hook to keep the reader interested, but its done too much here so my suggestion is to either keep most of these words and titles for a time when we know what they mean, or keep the hints to a minimum with a more solid setting up of context.

Cheers

Thank you so much for the advice... yeah, that's the most difficult part about this story: the beginning. There's a lot going on and a lot of things that the reader needs to learn quickly or be lost for the next two chapters. Anyhow, this isn't the end of chapter one; I just didn't want to post the entire chapter at once. The rest will come later. I'll try and post it when I get back from school tonight.

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-continued-
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The two-toned jingle echoed from the doorbell, coming from the next room through the empty door into the kitchen. Lyra leapt instantly from the chair, slamming the goblet down against the table as she exited the room. Her form, nearly a blur with the speed she moved with, took to the door and flung it open.

Before Aden, who stood casually in the doorway with his finger still outstretched toward the button by the doorframe in an attempt to ring the bell again, had a chance to even get a simple “hello” from his lips, Lyra moved out the door and shouted back to Nickolas, “I’m going out with Aden for awhile. I’ll be back by eleven, so don’t wait up.” Aden had nearly been pushed over as she forcefully shoved him away from the stoop and down the sidewalk.

The curtains parted slightly as Nickolas’ shadowed form stood near the pane. “That’s an affirmative sir,” his voice growled into the telephone receiver pressed to the side of his face. “No, something came up… but I think we can still bring her in.” A garbled voice croaked out from the receiver in reply to Nickolas. “… No. No, I don’t think the public needs to know about this just yet.”

Lyra managed to drag Aden several blocks from the house before he was able to twist his arm away from her viselike grip. The two stood in the middle of the street, being as he’d freed himself just as they were crossing, staring at one another.

“What are you doing? Come on,” she spat angrily, trying to snatch his arm again.

He pulled his arm back defensively, not letting her get her claws on him once more. “What am I doing?! What the hell are you doing?” he said, his voice sounding thoroughly confused. “I thought I was supposed to bring the homework you missed today to you, and we were going to study.” He tilted his head sideways a bit, letting his shoulders sag a bit under the weight of his backpack. He peered at her through dark emerald eyes for a bit for looking off down the street. “Not that I’m not for going out, or whatever it is you had in mind, but you’re acting really strange.”

Lyra watched him gaze down the street before he turned back to her curiously. Her own face held a look of complete distress. His expression changed quickly into one of guilt. “What’s that look for?” he said, sounding more sympathetic. “I’m sorry, alright… I didn’t mean to call you strange.” Aden reached out, putting his hand gently on her arm.

Lyra recoiled at the touch. Her animal eyes looked wild as she tried to comprehend the meaning in his movements. Beneath his touch and cloth, her arms bore the mark of her race. In that mark, their friendship ended. The Torians may have had a longer, richer history than the Icarans, something she could be proud of any day, but it did not change the fact that Aden was Icaran, and he was born into a way of life that taught him to hate her.

Oolala. An *excellent* continuation.

I can't wait for chapter two. This discrimination against Torians is really interesting. I've gone for culture-against-culture before myself, but I have to say I don't think I managed half so well. :] PM when you put up another!

~ aisho

Sorry it's been so long.
Thanks... the whole conflict of their two races started out as just a backdrop when I first started the story, but as I continued, it grew and grew until it was a major part of the story. It ties a lot into the actual plot and eventually the ending (though, I'm still working out the kinks with the ending... I never finished my first draft of this). Thanks for the support, and I really hope you enjoy how this continues.

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continued
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Aden, taken aback slightly by her actions, put his arm down, awkwardly, and shifted his eyes away from her. “You never tell me anything, Lyra,” Aden said, his voice soft with frustration. His fingers clenched quietly at his sides as he turned his head away from her. He didn’t need his dark hair to cover his eyes or his averted gaze to hide his worry from her. She already knew. “I’m the last person you should keep secrets from Lyra. I’m the only one who –”

“I can’t.” Her voice, despite the internal conflict within her, resonated with a firm tone. Lyra’s eyes now looked to him, glittering slightly with the wetness of tears that threatened to come forth.

“But why Lyra?” Aden turned toward her, grabbing her arms firmly in his grasp. He pulled her in closer to him. His voice was frantic, loud. “What is it? Nickolas? … I know he’s your legal guardian but…”

“No, I just can’t.” She turned her face away from him as he stared into her eyes. The emerald orbs of her eyes drifted down to her forearm. Even through the cloth she could envision the marks there. Her flesh felt hot, a slicing pain crawling up her arms as she remembered the pain. She remembered the black twisting marks that cut their way across her skin, ending in bright red-gold tips, laced with pale blue accents, as the Awakening powers overtook her: and she was Torian. “You see… you’ll hate me for what I’ve done.” Her eyes flicked up to him: guilty, mournful.

“Lyra…” his voice, barely a whisper, sounded confused and broken. His grip on her loosened. “I could never…”

“But you will… you say that now, but I know you will.” She shook her head madly at him, a hysterical laugh overtaking her voice. The hopelessness of the situation seemed to be driving her mad. She pushed him away from her roughly, walking into the street with face upturned toward the sky. “… why bother lying.” She let out a final chuckle of anger and sarcasm before turning away from him.