Ashea
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Joined: 11 Oct 2008
Posts: 5
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 Posted: 11/10/2008 19:22 Post subject: The Dust of Battle - Chapter 1 (Mark of mortals) |
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First chapter of the story "The Dust of Battle". If you got any ideas reply and i`ll edit the story.
Chapter 1 - Mark of Mortals
"There is no way that they will come back alive from that bloody Monastery!"
"That's what I`m hoping for, you idiot!"
***
Theon woke up, but did not dare to open his eyes and let that pleasant numbness of the not-yet-finished-sleep fade from his muscles. The sweet dream still haunted the corners of his mind waiting for any tiredness. He stood there, lying on the grass for a second, a minute, an hour leaving his senses to refine. A sketch of a smile appeared on his finely-shaped face as the smell of peacebloom flooded his nostrils. He stretched, perplex, and yawned revealing his sharp druidic teeth.
He rose from the ground and took a look around. The soft green and the old wood were spreading trough the forest a scence of a gentle melancholy which gaved him a bittersweet feeling. It always reminded him of the unavoidable : death-life ; life-death.
The song of the faeries filled the skies, filled his soul and drove him towards Darnassus. He sneaked behind the sentinels and entered the city. Not that he was banished or an enemy but he loved to do that, proof to his mother that the sentinels weren't able to see behind his stealth. He was actually the prince of Teldrassil. He was proud of the blood that ran trough his veins. No one knew who his father was, but him.
From the day that he was born, his mother, Tyrande Whisperwind, insisted that he would be trained as a warrior and as a druid at the same time. He didn't like to fight with a sword, not even with his own. In the day that he needed to confront with his teacher he went up with a gaping wound on his chest. The scar was still there like unforgettable memory of his pains.
Theon walked towards the bank-tree near the edge of the bridge. He glared for a minute at his own reflection on the pure, crystal water. His grey eyes, unusual color for an night elf, looked back at him with a bored gaze. His long white hair was tied up with leather in queues that sharpen the imagine of his face. The lines of his lips betrayed his everlasting joy.
"Thero`shan!" a voice filled the city shattering the silence.
Theon turned and smiled at the old druid that stood in front of him.
"Ishnu-dal-dieb, Lann`ol!" he answeard bowing his head.
"Where have you been, boy? Your mother has business with you!" The druid spoked.
"She found out of my tunic? For Elune`s grace! It's just a darn tunic!" Theon ran wild.
"Mind your words, prince! It's not because of that. It's more important than a tunic. Go!"
Theon turned and mended his pace on the way to the temple. As he entered the temple, the statue of Elune filled his sight. That goddess always gave him a feeling of an incarcerated freedom, beauty. Why did a goddess took the form of an elf? Why not be a wisp?
The sound of a familiar voice broke the flow of his questions. He gazed up at his mother. She was arguing, again, with a priestess about some foulish matter.
"Mother!" he roared ignoring the other elves that were there for prayer.
"Ah, my son! Come up! I must have a word with you."
***
"NO! This war is not ours!" Theon whistle full of anger. His fist was already closed and ready to strike. The only obstacle between him and Malfurion was a humble wooden table.
"Theon... please!" Tyrande lift her hand interupting the argue. The silent fell painfully between the prince and Malfurion.
Theon could see with the corner of his eyes the slight trembeling of his mother. A letter stood opened on the table and its sayings were disturbing.
" We helped the humans once... " Started Theon.
" ... and they threw us into the shades of our own lands!" finished Malfurion not taking his eyes of the prince.
The argue started again and none of those two elves were short at harsh words. Tyrande felt hopeless in that conversation and turned her sight to the window. The sun was breaking trough the glass spreading light on the woodlike floor. She always love to watch the dust flying in the sunlight and now she was captivated of the haotic dance of the dust. It took her awile to notice that Theon was talking with her.
" Sorry! What did you say, Theon?" she pulled herself from the dream.
" I said that I will do it, but I ask something in return from you. I want to leave from these woods and venture further in the world of mortals."he said almost unheard.
The last words that he spoke cut trough the heart of Tyrande like a heated blade. Even Malfurion looked at him amazed and open his mouth to say something, but again the hand of Tyrande stopped his words.
She looked at Theon with her eyes drawned in tears. It was the first time he saw his mother like that. He was intrigued. Why was she so weak in these hours? The silence... the tears... the pain.
"Prepare your nightsaber. You must meet with captain Harhogh in Ironforge where you will find your companions. And you will be free to leave, Theon, my son. I can not let your dreams fade."
Malfurion threw a last gaze upon the prince, made an ironical bow before Tyrande and left the room without a sound. Theon watched his mother. He was more than amazed. For the first time she acted like a mother not like a warrior queen.
This is the first part. Sorry for my misspelling or flow of the story. English is my second language. |
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