This is my first attempt at writing a fantasy, I hope you like it! I know it's kind of long, sorry about that. (:
Chapter 1, Escape:
I ran. Not stopping. The sun was sinking in front of me, the pastel blue sky changing to black. Hooves hitting the ground and shouts of men followed. I kept running. Trees everywhere as well as brush. My light feet skimmed over the ground. My breathing was panicked.
Before me, the trees began to separate into a road which was emptied. I dodged more trees until I was able to break into the road. The town was going to be my best bet to hide from the King’s servants.
I jumped over the little hill onto the road bellow and stumbled.
“Watch out!” A man’s voice sounded in my ears. I turned.
Two horses were charging at me. Behind me, the shouts got louder. I shot to the side so the horse barely missed me. My eyes peered over my shoulder to see a young man around my age sitting with the older man steering the wagon. The boy caught my eye, and kept looking. I turned away and began running.
My thin coat that I wore over my small dress made of beautiful silk that was once my mother’s who died when I was young, to young to remember was pulled further over my head. I ran into the town which was full of life bustling through.
I searched around, making sure I was safe. My grandmother who I lived with after my parent’s deaths gave me some coins for food. It jingled in my loose pocket.
These coins were the last thing of her since a wanderer found our cabin in the deep woods and we welcomed him. Once he found we were Movers, or people who have a gift to transfer water and earth as well as air and fire, to form whatever shape they please, he treated us with hatred and anger. The man fled our cabin to tell the King so he could be rid of us or use us for his own game. Our kingdom was at war with elves and he needed a weapon that the elves couldn’t compete with. Me.
That’s why I was fleeing. The King’s servants burnt down my home, and kidnaped my grandmother. She told me to run, run away from there and leave her. I followed orders.
As I walked through the crowds, head low, tears fell onto the ground.
“Excuse me, Miss,” I heard a man ask a woman who was hurrying home.
I looked up and froze. It was one of the soldiers who was chasing me.
“Have you seen a young girl who was running recently?”
I crouched behind the structure that was shadowed and listened. The woman said, “No, no I haven’t sir. If I may ask, is there a reason why you ask me this?”
“She is needed by the King.” The soldier says sternly, “Thanks for your time.”
I could hear the footsteps retreat and a quick sound of galloping on stone.
The spot I hid wasn’t very good, so I ran down the alley and onto a road that went around the town and came out into an opening. Out before me, was a huge crowd all hustling and bustling. Overwhelmed, I didn’t know where to go. I never have been to any town, village, or city in my life, or was around other people. Panicking, I attempt to make my way through the crowd. For a moment, my hood covered my sight, and I stumbled blindly into someone. My eyes followed the thick built man hanging up lanterns.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry.” I say quietly, clearly distracted and lost.
“Oh, it’s alright.” He smiled and continued to hang up things, not noticing my distress.
I began to walk away, then I was hit with a question, “Excuse me, what are the lanterns for?”
The man turned and laughed, “For the festival of course ”
“Festival?”
“Yes, it’s a festival that we do every year, and you’re here just in time.” The man says, “It starts tonight.”
I took it all in, “Thank you.”
“Your welcome.” The man went to go work on other projects.
A festival? I haven’t been to one of those. I made my way into an alley so that I could think and to get out of the crowd of people.
Honestly, I never have been in a town before, not once in my life. My grandmother taught me to read, write and ways of Movers, but never took me to a town.
From my curiosity, I wanted to go. I wanted to go to the festival.
I continued walking through the alleyways and between homes to escape the madness of the roads. Every now and then, I would dart into a corner to hide myself, and continue on my way. No one was really was interested in me, so I was left alone.
Once I knew that I was safe from any immediate harm, I huddled onto the cold stone ground and wrapped my legs up in my arms. My mind was still recovering from the shock of it all.
✦✦✦
I grabbed a piece of pine bread that my grandmother made and went outside to see her working in the garden. We grew carrots, roots, cabbage, and numerous other vegetables. Our diet was strictly fruit, bread, and vegetables, no meat. It bothered me none.
“Grandmother, when will I begin to learn fire?” I slumped into a pile of tall grass and continued eating my bread.
Grandmother looked up from her work, brushed back her long silver hair and said, “Not until you master wind.”
“I think I have though, I can do nearly everything dealing with wind.” I took a bite of pine bread.
“Nearly, not entirely. I will not teach you fire until you have mastered wind.” My grandmother was always persistent when it came to my education in mastering such things.
I grumbled and fell back into the grass. All was quiet. In the distance, I could hear the creek whisper it’s song. The birds flew overhead, everything seemed nice.
“Carry these in,” my grandmother ordered as she cleaned her hands off with a bucket of water.
I swallowed the last bite of pine bread and picked up the basket of vegetables into the cottage. Inside, our furniture was mostly made of numerous types of wood. It wasn’t very large, but it was decent for my grandmother and I. There was two separate rooms with each one small bed, while on the opposite side was the kitchen with dining table as well as a fireplace that was only used during the cold months and for cooking stew. This moment, the fire was starting to boil some water for our lunch.
I set the basket onto our table and started to wash and cut the produce with a sharp stream of water. This was one of my techniques I learned while my grandmother taught me the element of water when I was five years old.
My eyes glanced outside our window and noticed a silhouette of a man in the woods. I stopped the steady stream of water from it’s job and rushed outside to find my grandmother. She was starting to walk inside when I ran into her.
“There’s a man! We need to hide.” I tried to pull her inside.
“No, we will treat him as a guest if he needs it. Be careful at what you say near him,” Grandmother warned as she began to walk outside to greet the man. I followed, but more slowly.
“Are you in any need of our help?” Grandmother asked the man. When I got closer, I could see he was filthy from head to foot, and looked famished.
“Oh, thank you, it is much needed. I hope I am not intruding...” The man looked relieved he found somebody.
My grandmother smiled and welcomed him into our home. I didn’t say a word.
“Sit down while I get you some stew.” My grandmother showed him to our table where I was just cutting up our vegetables.
The man nodded.
My grandmother nodded for me to help her prepare the vegetables that I did manage to clean and cut for a stew. As my grandmother cut more of the vegetables with a dull knife, I started throwing some of the produce into the boiling water. I usually let my grandmother finish the rest since she has to put a certain amount of herbs and pine to make it delectable.
“Thank you, your generosity means much to me.” The man fiddled his hands together.
“It’s my pleasure.” My grandmother started to add more vegetables into the stew with herbs. Slowly, she began to stir with a large wooden spoon. “If I may ask, what is your business here?”
The man looked at my grandmother, and said, “I was taking a walk and found myself being lost. Do you know where the closest town would be?”
My grandmother pointed southwards.
The man nodded again.
“Elle, would you be kind and bring our guest a drink?” My grandmother turned her attention to me.
I stood the furthest from the unknown man. I said, “Yes, Grandmother,” and went outside to the creek, our only source of water here. With me, I carried a bucket for the short journey to the creek. With my gift, I bended water enough for the three of us into the bucket and silently cleaned it out of anything unwanted.
Carefully, I carried the water back to the cottage and inside. Set out was three of our clay cups and bowls for our stew. I gently poured the creek water into the three cups and placed the bowl outside.
I sat down on the left side of the man while my grandmother served our stew. The steam floated out of the bowl. She sat down on the opposite side of me and we began to enjoy our lunch. Also, the half of loaf of pine bread was set out.
The man reminded me of a ravenous wolf who was starved for days, barely enjoying my grandmother’s meal. I chewed on a cooked carrot.
The lunch felt awkward since no one was talking. The man was to busy eating his fill. I eyed my grandmother in annoyance, and she ignored it.
In his rapid eating, the man bumped his fork onto the floor. My grandmother gave me the look, and I knew I need to pick it up for him. I bent down before the man noticed his fork hit the ground and handed him back the fork. My sleeve fell down my right arm, revealing our secret.
My Mark stood out from my skin, winding on the skin under my wrist. It was my symbol of being non-human.
The man gasped at it, flew back as if I had the plague and ran out of our home, leaving a nearly empty bowl behind.
✦✦✦
A sudden thrash caught my attention and caused me to jump and tense. I looked deep into the alleyway into the shadow. I inched away, ready to run at a moments notice, and realized it was a mere cat causing the trouble.
I looked up at the sky and it was nearly dark, almost time for the festival.
Chapter 2, James and Ivory:
It was dark now, much darker and the town was busy. People danced and laughed, mingling within the festival. Many were drinking some sort of ale from barrels, and many looked at me strangely because of my appearance. I fumbled around, not sure where to go, what to do. It was probably dangerous for me to be here, but I couldn’t help but feel excitement at the situation I was in. I tended to stand away from the middle of the group.
Music, laughter, dancing, and the thought of being with other people made me feel... normal. I couldn’t help but smile. A couple sparks of fire shot into the sky. I jumped. This strange display of fire caught me off guard. It’s bright colors of orange, white, and red fascinated me. How could a mere human complete such a complicated achievement while I can barely shoot a spark?
I kept myself at a table alone and enjoyed the music and the aura of joy. My hood was kept on, though, just in case.
“Excuse me,” I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I whipped around.
The first thing that I saw were crystal eyes outlined with brown eyelashes that made me feel weird.
“May I sit here?” The boy asked.
Cautious, I nodded.
The boy smiled and sat down. This was the boy who was watching me all night, and I didn’t know if I could trust him. He began talking to me, asking if I was having a good time.
“Where are you from?” He asked me, deeply curious.
I fumbled with answers and came up with, “Not to far from here.”
Through our conversation, mainly controlled by him, I found out his name was Trenton and he lives with his father, Jerrard. He was my age, his hair was a woodland brown and he wore a fresh white tunic and vest. It was the boy I saw on the wagon.
“What can I call you?” Trenton smiled a really white smile.
I introduced myself as Elle, getting ready to retreat and run at the sound of my elvish name.
“Your name is beautiful.”
Caught off guard at his response, I felt...strange. Something at the pit of my stomach felt twisted and uncomfortable.
Trenton laughed, “Your welcome.”
From the quietness that wrenched between us, Trenton offered, “Would you like to dance?”
“Dance?” I didn’t know how to dance.
“Yeah, would you like to dance with me?” Trenton asked again.
Embarrassed, I mumbled, “I don’t know how.”
“Come on,” Trenton placed his hand out for me to take, “I can teach you.”
Already tense and ready to bolt, I took it, despite my mind telling me not too.
Trenton led me to the center of the group, making me panic like earlier that day.
“Now, just follow my lead.” Trenton instructed me and began leading, “That’s it, see Your dancing!”
I felt like a complete oaf that was making a fool of herself. “I’m not very good.”
Trenton could tell that I wasn’t enjoying it, and took me out of the dancing.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling paranoid.
Trenton smiled, “It’s okay, would you like a drink?”
“Water would be nice,” I say.
Trenton chuckled, and told me to follow him. I didn’t understand how there was any humor in my statement.
I still followed anyway, even though I should be more wary of him.
“Want some ale? Or we have wine,” Trenton proposed.
“I never had ale before. Or wine.” I looked up.
Trenton took out a glass and held it under the barrel and twisted the knob and a flow of ale came out then handed me the glass, “Here ya go then.”
I looked at it. The texture looked odd, bubbles foaming on the top.
“Go on, take a drink,” Trenton pushed.
I held my breath and took a sip from it. The burning hit me. The musk taste went down my throat.
Trenton grinned, taking a gulp of his own glass.
I took another drink. My body felt different. My gaze slipped past Trenton to my right to see the crowd. In the midst of the people, I saw something. Sharp edges of metal glistening in the lanterns.
My attention focused on the person. It was a servant. I turned my back to the direction the servant was and pulled up my hood inconspicuously which had slid down off my head.
“What’s wrong?” Trenton asked and turned to where the servant stood, looking for me.
“I have to go,” I say, focusing on getting away from this town, but Trenton grabbed hold of my arm and refused to let me go. He slipped up my right sleeve with his hand and flipped my wrist over. I tried to wiggle free, but it was too late. Trenton saw my Mark that was on my wrist, etched into my skin.
My Mark symbolized me as a Mover. The shade was a light bluish tint that wove around in a wave-form on the underside of my wrist, covering most of the skin. The wave-like pattern signaled I moved water mostly.
I shuddered and brought my wrist back to my body.
“You have to go,” says Trenton, swiftly and stern. He yanked me away from the festival.
I tried to stop him, I didn’t know where he was taking me. Then I whispered harshly, “How can I trust you?”
Trenton pulled me behind a house where the shadow was dark enough that we were unseen and says in a equally harsh tone, “Do you want to die?” and pulled me again. I felt like a dog being dragged on a rope, unable to escape, unable to make my own decision.
“Why do you want to help?”
“Reasons.”
Gallops sounded in the dead street.
Trenton threw me behind a house and followed. He stretched his arm out so it hid me better. The hit caused small stars to dance in my vision.
A few men on horses trotted by, not noticing us. Once they were gone, Trenton yanked me out and continued on walking.
“Where are we going?” My breathing in a rush from the worry.
“You will see.” Trenton wasn’t interested in my questions. “Over here.”
We stood in front of a cottage-like house that was on the edge of the town. Trenton knocked in a pattern, then the man who drove the wagon earlier with Trenton opened the door.
His dark hair was speckled with gray, showing his age, as well as his deep-set face. He stood tall and strong.
“Come, come.” His raspy voice echoed in the darkness.
Trenton threw me in the cottage, checking behind that no one followed and entered as well.
“Where am I?” I rushed, panicked and ready to run, “What do you want me for?”
The old man sat me down on a wooden chair that was seated in a corner, while Trenton locked the door and closed the windows tight. I was trapped. This was it.
“What do you want with me?”
The old man shushed me. He splashed water on the fire so the only light was coming from a small candle on the table. From the small light, the room felt translucent and eerie. Papers were scattered on the table, the kitchen wasn’t organized as well. In the living area, a large bookshelf full of leather-bound books with cobwebs was placed in a corner.
“We want to help you,” the old man whispered, sitting on a old bench-like couch that look awfully uncomfortable.
“Why?” I accused, getting ready to run if needed.
Trenton sat down next to his father, the appearance of both looked similar, and says, “We are ready for this war to end. It isn’t needed.”
Jerrard cut my thoughts off, “Who are your parents?”
Confused and wary, I answer, “Ivory and James.” I started to feel uneasy. Something wasn’t right.
The old man’s eyes grew big and he began swearing under his breath.
“Is... is something wrong?” I ask, more puzzled.
The old man looked up with eyes full something, almost showing hate. He explained, “Your parents, Ivory and James, were the last of the Movers.”
From my expression, he explained further, “I knew you were Ivory’s daughter. You look exactly like her, but you have your father’s eyes, indefinitely.”
My facial expression spoke for me.
“Ivory lived with the elves, since her parents were, and met your father, James, who was a Mover born human, which was rare. Movers are normally elf-born, like your mother, but at that time, more and more Movers were born human. They fell in love, which would quickly ruin them.” Jerrard began to explain, “ The Movers of the world split into human-born and elf-born. Your parents were forced to divide and choose sides that they were born into. They refused. Ivory refused to leave James. James refused to leave Ivory. This caused more conflict between the two, soon enough the war. Movers killed Movers, until there were mere more than few left, the ones who fled.
One grew weak, and turned to dark magic to fulfill his strength and your parents hid. They were the most powerful which let them survive. Once they believed that it was safe, Ivory and James fled to Ivory’s family for help. The elves found this out, and banished them and your mother’s family from their kingdom.” Trenton’s father took a deep sigh, “Then they had you, but the one other Mover who lived came and murdered them, trying to take their power from them. He didn’t know about you. Then he sided with the King.”
My mind was pained, the thought of my parents, the reason Movers are no more. Their brutal murders. My grandmother never told me about this, about Ivory and James. She only told me that they were great Movers and loved me dearly.
“The end of the Movers. Sad, really. This war caused elves and humans to start conflict with one another. Later known as this war we are fighting now.”
Tears blinding me, I muttered, “How do you know this?”
The old man chuckled, “I lived through it. I was your parent’s friend.”
“Is this why you are helping me?”
“Not completely. My son and I are working for the elves. They have been looking for you for all these years. The blasted King himself knows this and wants to have you as well.”
Angry, I say, “I’m just an object in this?”
The old man chuckles again, “No, you aren’t. You are more than that.”
“Did you know this?” I ask Trenton.
Trenton says, “Yes I have.”
Appalled by everything as well as terrified, I shudder, “What do I need to do?”
The old man smiles, “To end this war, we need to bring you to the elves.”
“Why the elves?” I ask.
“The King is evil. Horrible man.” The old man spits, “He murders for his own game.”
“How do you propose I get there?” I say, tears streaming my cheeks.
“Trenton will lead you,” the old man says, then paused, taking a good look at me. “You look so much like Ivory.”
I knew my mother had the same lightening-shade blonde hair as me, but I didn’t realize I looked exactly like her, with my small build and white skin.
“When should we leave?” I ask, trying to rid my mind of my mother.
“You should leave as soon as possible while it’s still dark.”
Thanks for reading! (:
