Young Writers Society

Of the Lands of Ray and Hammer, Segment 7, "Welcome!":

Far to the southwest near where the lands are broken the Gulf of Hammer, the people of Lydighet's village neared the city of the Glorious One. The fortified walls were roughly fifty feet tall, running parallel on either side of the road seventy-five feet out from the gate and then sweeping back in the general direction of the city. The village people trudged along the road moving toward the tall gate of the citadel, eyes shifting up to the seemingly barren battlements. Jenta's eyes continued to scan the upper walls for signs of movement, Nothing. Have we come to the wrong place? Jenta contemplated, Lurt couldn't have mistaken such a place as this. As she finished the thought, Jenta saw Lurt beginning to jog toward the gate.

Slowing to within six paces of the gate, he called out in a strange tongue, “Jeg har folket! Lurt, Middel av Onde En!”

“Ja-ja!” shouted a voice from the heights.

Lurt came back to the group of villagers, taking the forefront position in the caravan. A sound of grinding wheels and chains tore through the village chatter, silencing them. As the steel-laced gate began to swivel out, Lurt with his quickly graying eyes and sinister, teethed smile led the way. Among the people, tension began to show. Even the men began to show signs of uneasiness. As they entered the gates, fantastic buildings surrounded them, but there was still no movement, no noise, no breeze. Nothing suggested the presence of a single living thing. Some of the children began to cry. The women began to whisper to their husbands. As they continued through the city, Jenta's mind spun, How can this be called “glorious?” What is glorious without the joyous noise of children and the trickling of cool fountains?

In the center of the city, a great butte rose from the flats. Coming near to this rupture of earth, Lurt began moving up the ramp leading to the elevated top. The ramp that ascended around the side of the butte was some thirty feet wide and etched from the stone conjoined the erected acropolis. Narrow, dark slits peppered the highest portions of the cliff face.

Upon reaching the top, Lurt halted them. A single grand palace dominated a large portion of the butte's center. As the village people stood waiting, Lurt moved to the palace's main door, chanting softly. He paused several paces from the doors. Without further movement, the doors swung inward, and he quickly slipped under the archway. Long, slow minutes past. Jenta was beginning to wonder if they should leave or. . .

Trumpets sounded, fountains spewed forth, and works of fire flew through the air! From around the sides of the palace, great war-horses came adorned in full armor with riders clothed in shining metals, glistening with weaponry. From hidden doors flanking the main portal, children proceeded, playing flutes and strumming instruments. The palace door opened. Maidens came forth dancing, men leaped through with wands of fire, and great men with an air of power about them strode from the palace's interior. Men in gray and blue came next with bows on their backs and a quiver strapped about each of their waists. They were followed by a tall, stately man with a chiseled face and muscles of twisted cord. A illustrious gem floated just above his forehead. Behind, a child-sized, mustached man skittered with quill, ink, and papers sticking out from every pocket. Finally, bringing up the rear, four men walked, clothed in blackness, dark-eyed and light-skinned, They were ugly and easily forgotten in comparison to the bright, lively-colored folk that had come before. Jenta could not think of a day more exciting in her life! Beauty was everywhere!

The music and procession came to a halt, and the small man with the papers came forward.

Clearing his throat, he announced with a voice larger than what his small chest should safely hold, “I, Liten Krafti, Scribe of the Glorious One, present to you, People of the Northeastern Lands of Ray, his Majesty – the Emperor of the Lands of Ray and Hammer, Almighty Power of the World, Lover of All Souls, Hater of All Evil-Doers – the Gracious Slange Returnert!”

Again, the music sounded for several brief seconds.

Then the Compassionate Majesty of the Lands of Ray and Hammer, with a voice dripping with deception, hate, and loathing, spoke, “Welcome, my dearly beloved people. I present to you. . .”

He waved his hand around toward the city, forcing their hypnotized bodies to turn about, “Your new home.”

What lay before them was not a wonderful garden of life – not a temple of unfathomable beauty, not a perfect and natural countryside – but a deteriorating, decrepit mass of stench and death, filled with man-beasts and creatures of unnatural proportions and abilities. Jenta's heart screamed out in horror, remembering Lydighet's modest prophetic utterance regarding what he felt – what he somehow knew – about the “Glorious One.”

Below them lay the sprawling training grounds of the Dark One's army, the Minions of Death.

If you enjoyed this, check out Of the Lands of Ray and Hammer, Segment 1 (Topic 25233)!