Sometimes I just want to break down. But that isn't exactly true. I feel broken down. I feel...like a car with an engine that shouldn't be running but still is. One that should have been taken to the shop...or re-sold.
I feel like throughout my days I smile and nod and add more weight to my shoulders. I may say small things about how I feel tired or stressed. But....when I'm alone...when the lights are low and the only voice is the one in my head...
Inside my head hangs low and I just want to open my hands and let go. Just cry. Just stop....doing everything that matters while I rot slowly away under my blankets....becoming earth I suppose.
But I can't.
I've got things to do. I've got expectations to meet.
I've got reasons why I'll never set my burden down. Reasons why I'll never give up.
Sometimes it's only two reasons....sometimes more.
Sometimes the reasons are very very stupid.....but they are reasons. Sometimes they are simple as "because".
So I keep my foot to the gas and wish this vehicle over one more hill. Until the next rest stop. Until the wheels fall off.
I'll keep driving.
Monday, September 21, 2015
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
"The tale of Tom Carver" or "Why the wind howls"
There was a time when the wind never howled. Oh it blew and gusted but no howls through the trees....no roaring through the valley....no sound at all. But that all changed....and here's how.
In a time long before this one...in a place far from here...lived a man. He was named, as best as we can tell, Tom Carver. It was the fashion at the time to give a last name that explained whatcha did. Tom's father, name of Ben, was a wood cutter....so he became Ben Cutter. You get the idea.
Tom, while a skilled wood cutter, took to carving. His skill was such that people would come from all over to buy his carvings....so his love paid for his life as it were.
So skilled was he that...a rose carved from pine would look almost freshly plucked...beads of sap looking just like drops of dew. Bees would try to get pollen from them they looked so real. Carvings of deer looked almost ready to bound away...bears almost breathed deeply trying to smell out some tasty honey.
When asked how he chose his carvings Tom just shrugged. He said...he could almost see the thing inside the wood...just about wishing it could be carved. In truth that was the way of it. When Tom looked at wood he saw what was inside....and he just carved away whatever wasn't...what was inside.
One cool crisp Spring morning Tom was walking through the woods looking for wood to carve. There was some walking...some looking...a lot of day dreaming....after a while Tom found himself in a clearing with a lone pine tree growing in the middle. The tree was young and had a bend in the trunk but Tom's eyes spied something inside that almost took his breath away. This! This was going to be his best carving ever! He just knew it.
Using his saw and rope he took off the upper most portion of the tree, letting it fall in the clearing. For a bit he stared at the portion that remained...the piece he saved, still rooted, stood almost 10 feet tall...and it should fit the carving he had in mind just nicely.
She danced within this tree. He could see her. Her body tall and lean....twisted in a twirl...her thin arms reached skyward in the joy of her dance...her long hair flowed about her face and gently wrapped her body. It was her only attire and she bore no shame or modesty.
He set out to carve her free.
His tools stripped the bark and took chunks from the trunk. More here....less there. The soft wood, though fresh, worked with ease in his skilled hands. He shaped roughly and then with more clarity as he worked. Moving from without...to within....working towards the face of beauty he knew was hidden inside.
After a time his finer tools came out and he began to work upon her face. It was past midday but he knew he could finish her before dark. He had to finish before the night fell.
At first the cuts came easily. Small feathers of wood fell as he refined the image he had in his head. Soon though...his work became slower...unsure. The tried to hold the image he had first seen but it kept slipping away...it...wasn't what he was seeing now. The eyes weren't quite right. The mouth seemed slightly off. These laugh lines seemed too forced. This....this wasn't what he had seen before this was....this wasn't it at all.
Frustrated he stepped back and that's when he saw it.
What initially he had seen as a beautiful young woman dancing with arms raised in joy...her mouth open in laughter.....
She stood there in agony. Her arms raised in begging supplication to end the torture she was enduring. Her eyes wide open and strained in terror while her full lips opened in a silent scream of suffering.
Horrified at what he had carved he grabbed his saw and cut the remaining tree down leaving on a stump.
He gathered a huge pile of dry brush, wood, and tinder and packed it around his carving....always careful to avoid looking at the perfectly carved eyes that seemed to follow him around the clearing.
Lighting his pyre he watched as the fire quickly grow. As even the green wood of the carving began to burn he gathered his tools and quickly left the clearing.
He walked quickly...then he jogged...when his tools began to weigh him down he simply dropped them. He would gather them tomorrow he told himself....knowing he would never them them again.
Night had just fallen by the time he returned to his cabin and though he had sweat from his quick return he shivered. He stoked the embers in his fireplace back into flame and added more wood. Then he drank until he thought he might forget the day itself. He kept drinking until he had nothing else to drink and then he crawled into bed. Spinning sleep took him quickly.
Tom woke with a start. He didn't know the time but it was still very dark out. His fire had died down and at some point he had rolled himself into his blanket for warmth. He wondered what had woken him and his listened intently keeping as still as possible.
Silence.
Not a sound could be heard from without or within his cabin. The forest, normally a cacophony of sounds, was still. Tom held his breath fearing to break the silence. His heart still thundered in his ears...but even that stopped.....
"TOM CARVER.....ATTEND ME..." A voice like thunder shook the walls of his cabin.
Terrified Tom pulled the blanket over his head and wrapped himself up as tightly as he could.
"TOM CARVER.....ATTEND ME AT ONCE! I SHALL NOT ASK AGAIN..." boomed the impossibly loud voice. It seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Tom felt his bones turn to water with fear but he still untangled himself from his blanket. Dragging his feet and shaking with fear he made his way to his door. His hand shook almost uncontrollably as he reached for the latch but he managed to grip the door handle. Taking a shivering breath he opened the door and stepped through to see....his yard. There was no monster or creature...no pair of giant boots waiting for him. Just his yard and the trees of the forest and....amongst the trees stood one larger than the others. The largest tree Tom had ever seen....perhaps the largest thing he had ever seen. He followed its trunk with his eyes...looking up....up....up.........up until he saw it went up through the very clouds themselves. Then he noticed....the clouds kind of looked like.....a beard. Something in him snapped like the tail of a Prince Rupert's drop. He wasn't looking at a tree...he was looking at a man. A man who...reached to the clouds. He was frozen in terror. His mind simply refused to grasp this...and then...the man spoke to him.
"Tom Carver...I am the Father of the Woods and you have wronged me. This day you took from me something more dear than my own life. You took away my very heart. You took from me my daughter."
Tom shook at each word....flinching as if being lashed by a whip.
"You were given a wonderful gift to see what lay in the heart of things...but you have used your gift to tear from me all joy. You cut from her. You stripped her flesh. You gouged her skin. And when you saw the evil you had done...you cut her from her mother's breast and burned her to ash. For this....I shall have vengeance....from this....I shall have justice....for this I shall draw from you life the way you stole it from her."
Tom shook in abject terror. He didn't know what he was doing....what he had done. He didn't know!
"I didn't know!! You....you can't blame me for what I didn't know. I....I thought I was just...carving things. You can't just kill me because I was ignorant! Killing me because I didn't know the pain I was causing would be wrong!" he pleaded and cried.
The Father of the Woods simply stared down at him. As still and as large as a mountain. After a time he spoke.
"You have spoken some wisdom...so I make you this vow. You shall be punished but I shall not kill you. I will end your punishment when you have known my pain...when you have shared in what I have felt and feel. When I am satisfied...you shall be free."
At first Tom smiled at his fortune. He had saved himself....but then as the Father's hand reached down for him he screamed.
"Tom Carver. For what you have done I punish you thusly. Every cut, gouge, burn, chop, slice, or saw to wood shall you feel as if it is your own flesh. Every broken branch shall be yours. Every whittling shall be on you. Until you have felt the pain I feel or until I am satisfied with your punishment you never die. Thus are you sentenced....and so it begins."
So since that night....every moment since....Tom has felt all that is done to trees...to wood...to him. So if you listen closely when the wind is really moving....you can hear it...almost too faintly...but there. A sound of howling....or moaning...as if a man far away is bearing cut....or burned...or sawed.....and it will always howl.
Because you can never know the pain a father feels at the loss of a child....and a father's vengeance is never satisfied.
-Fin
In a time long before this one...in a place far from here...lived a man. He was named, as best as we can tell, Tom Carver. It was the fashion at the time to give a last name that explained whatcha did. Tom's father, name of Ben, was a wood cutter....so he became Ben Cutter. You get the idea.
Tom, while a skilled wood cutter, took to carving. His skill was such that people would come from all over to buy his carvings....so his love paid for his life as it were.
So skilled was he that...a rose carved from pine would look almost freshly plucked...beads of sap looking just like drops of dew. Bees would try to get pollen from them they looked so real. Carvings of deer looked almost ready to bound away...bears almost breathed deeply trying to smell out some tasty honey.
When asked how he chose his carvings Tom just shrugged. He said...he could almost see the thing inside the wood...just about wishing it could be carved. In truth that was the way of it. When Tom looked at wood he saw what was inside....and he just carved away whatever wasn't...what was inside.
One cool crisp Spring morning Tom was walking through the woods looking for wood to carve. There was some walking...some looking...a lot of day dreaming....after a while Tom found himself in a clearing with a lone pine tree growing in the middle. The tree was young and had a bend in the trunk but Tom's eyes spied something inside that almost took his breath away. This! This was going to be his best carving ever! He just knew it.
Using his saw and rope he took off the upper most portion of the tree, letting it fall in the clearing. For a bit he stared at the portion that remained...the piece he saved, still rooted, stood almost 10 feet tall...and it should fit the carving he had in mind just nicely.
She danced within this tree. He could see her. Her body tall and lean....twisted in a twirl...her thin arms reached skyward in the joy of her dance...her long hair flowed about her face and gently wrapped her body. It was her only attire and she bore no shame or modesty.
He set out to carve her free.
His tools stripped the bark and took chunks from the trunk. More here....less there. The soft wood, though fresh, worked with ease in his skilled hands. He shaped roughly and then with more clarity as he worked. Moving from without...to within....working towards the face of beauty he knew was hidden inside.
After a time his finer tools came out and he began to work upon her face. It was past midday but he knew he could finish her before dark. He had to finish before the night fell.
At first the cuts came easily. Small feathers of wood fell as he refined the image he had in his head. Soon though...his work became slower...unsure. The tried to hold the image he had first seen but it kept slipping away...it...wasn't what he was seeing now. The eyes weren't quite right. The mouth seemed slightly off. These laugh lines seemed too forced. This....this wasn't what he had seen before this was....this wasn't it at all.
Frustrated he stepped back and that's when he saw it.
What initially he had seen as a beautiful young woman dancing with arms raised in joy...her mouth open in laughter.....
She stood there in agony. Her arms raised in begging supplication to end the torture she was enduring. Her eyes wide open and strained in terror while her full lips opened in a silent scream of suffering.
Horrified at what he had carved he grabbed his saw and cut the remaining tree down leaving on a stump.
He gathered a huge pile of dry brush, wood, and tinder and packed it around his carving....always careful to avoid looking at the perfectly carved eyes that seemed to follow him around the clearing.
Lighting his pyre he watched as the fire quickly grow. As even the green wood of the carving began to burn he gathered his tools and quickly left the clearing.
He walked quickly...then he jogged...when his tools began to weigh him down he simply dropped them. He would gather them tomorrow he told himself....knowing he would never them them again.
Night had just fallen by the time he returned to his cabin and though he had sweat from his quick return he shivered. He stoked the embers in his fireplace back into flame and added more wood. Then he drank until he thought he might forget the day itself. He kept drinking until he had nothing else to drink and then he crawled into bed. Spinning sleep took him quickly.
Tom woke with a start. He didn't know the time but it was still very dark out. His fire had died down and at some point he had rolled himself into his blanket for warmth. He wondered what had woken him and his listened intently keeping as still as possible.
Silence.
Not a sound could be heard from without or within his cabin. The forest, normally a cacophony of sounds, was still. Tom held his breath fearing to break the silence. His heart still thundered in his ears...but even that stopped.....
"TOM CARVER.....ATTEND ME..." A voice like thunder shook the walls of his cabin.
Terrified Tom pulled the blanket over his head and wrapped himself up as tightly as he could.
"TOM CARVER.....ATTEND ME AT ONCE! I SHALL NOT ASK AGAIN..." boomed the impossibly loud voice. It seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Tom felt his bones turn to water with fear but he still untangled himself from his blanket. Dragging his feet and shaking with fear he made his way to his door. His hand shook almost uncontrollably as he reached for the latch but he managed to grip the door handle. Taking a shivering breath he opened the door and stepped through to see....his yard. There was no monster or creature...no pair of giant boots waiting for him. Just his yard and the trees of the forest and....amongst the trees stood one larger than the others. The largest tree Tom had ever seen....perhaps the largest thing he had ever seen. He followed its trunk with his eyes...looking up....up....up.........up until he saw it went up through the very clouds themselves. Then he noticed....the clouds kind of looked like.....a beard. Something in him snapped like the tail of a Prince Rupert's drop. He wasn't looking at a tree...he was looking at a man. A man who...reached to the clouds. He was frozen in terror. His mind simply refused to grasp this...and then...the man spoke to him.
"Tom Carver...I am the Father of the Woods and you have wronged me. This day you took from me something more dear than my own life. You took away my very heart. You took from me my daughter."
Tom shook at each word....flinching as if being lashed by a whip.
"You were given a wonderful gift to see what lay in the heart of things...but you have used your gift to tear from me all joy. You cut from her. You stripped her flesh. You gouged her skin. And when you saw the evil you had done...you cut her from her mother's breast and burned her to ash. For this....I shall have vengeance....from this....I shall have justice....for this I shall draw from you life the way you stole it from her."
Tom shook in abject terror. He didn't know what he was doing....what he had done. He didn't know!
"I didn't know!! You....you can't blame me for what I didn't know. I....I thought I was just...carving things. You can't just kill me because I was ignorant! Killing me because I didn't know the pain I was causing would be wrong!" he pleaded and cried.
The Father of the Woods simply stared down at him. As still and as large as a mountain. After a time he spoke.
"You have spoken some wisdom...so I make you this vow. You shall be punished but I shall not kill you. I will end your punishment when you have known my pain...when you have shared in what I have felt and feel. When I am satisfied...you shall be free."
At first Tom smiled at his fortune. He had saved himself....but then as the Father's hand reached down for him he screamed.
"Tom Carver. For what you have done I punish you thusly. Every cut, gouge, burn, chop, slice, or saw to wood shall you feel as if it is your own flesh. Every broken branch shall be yours. Every whittling shall be on you. Until you have felt the pain I feel or until I am satisfied with your punishment you never die. Thus are you sentenced....and so it begins."
So since that night....every moment since....Tom has felt all that is done to trees...to wood...to him. So if you listen closely when the wind is really moving....you can hear it...almost too faintly...but there. A sound of howling....or moaning...as if a man far away is bearing cut....or burned...or sawed.....and it will always howl.
Because you can never know the pain a father feels at the loss of a child....and a father's vengeance is never satisfied.
-Fin
Monday, May 26, 2014
Chains
The difficulty in matters of the heart, for me, are often the chains that I myself wrap about me. I can't reach out to you because of imagined slights, misunderstood intentions, understood intentions...link by thoughtful link the chain is forged.
I sometimes imagine how things may have gone had I said certain things before...but I didn't. Chains not only keep my arms from reaching out to you...they tangle my tongue...they clench my jaw.
I couldn't tell you that I want....wanted....to marry you....have beautiful babies with you....raise them to become breath takingly amazing people...like you. We talked once and I said I didn't believe in marriage....that creating new life was foolish when there are so many children wanting for parents as it is....our resources in the world are shrinking every day...link...by foolish link...
But you broke those chains..each link...each point...a mind can change....anything can change...everything does change....but then...so did your mind.
By then I couldn't explain what I wanted...what I had to offer you...what you had awakened in me...what I was willing to believe...to share....eternity...a moment...sealed...like a link....in a chain.
Chains are heavy....they can drag a person beneath the waves...chains are strong they can hold a person down...chains are useful for keeping things locked away.
And so....another link...
I sometimes imagine how things may have gone had I said certain things before...but I didn't. Chains not only keep my arms from reaching out to you...they tangle my tongue...they clench my jaw.
I couldn't tell you that I want....wanted....to marry you....have beautiful babies with you....raise them to become breath takingly amazing people...like you. We talked once and I said I didn't believe in marriage....that creating new life was foolish when there are so many children wanting for parents as it is....our resources in the world are shrinking every day...link...by foolish link...
But you broke those chains..each link...each point...a mind can change....anything can change...everything does change....but then...so did your mind.
By then I couldn't explain what I wanted...what I had to offer you...what you had awakened in me...what I was willing to believe...to share....eternity...a moment...sealed...like a link....in a chain.
Chains are heavy....they can drag a person beneath the waves...chains are strong they can hold a person down...chains are useful for keeping things locked away.
And so....another link...
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
The Forging
"From crucible to anvil... beneath hundreds of hammer blows...this is how the greatest blades are made.
Kindness does not create great weapons. Gentleness will never forge a sword.
Thus will you be worked to become a great and powerful instrument of vengeance...destruction...and death." - Warmaster K'noa
Kindness does not create great weapons. Gentleness will never forge a sword.
Thus will you be worked to become a great and powerful instrument of vengeance...destruction...and death." - Warmaster K'noa
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Hunted: Part 12
As Lucian ran towards the next archer he stole glances over the edge of the shield. The archer across the arena was less of a threat but still dangerous. The man he ran towards had an advantage with his shots as Lucian ran directly towards him. The closer they came together the harder it would be to see the incoming arrows. Lucian's best net would be to watch the man's hand for when he released his shot.
Bringing his shield up Lucian was greeted with two more *spangs* as arrows struck the metal. He glanced once again to take stock of his opponents.
The archer he approached was holding his shot waiting for the right time to shoot. This wasn't good at all. Once Lucian brought his shield up to avoid another arrow he would leave his legs and right side open as the angle of incoming arrows changed. Out of his peripheral vision he watched as the far archer drew back to fire once again...they were going to time this well.
Suddenly the man before him lurched awkwardly as an arrowhead sprouted from his eye socket. The arrow he had held launched harmlessly overhead as his body then fell to the arena floor below. Looking past the place where his foe had stood he saw Devlin standing. She held a bow of her own straight ahead. Her other arm still by her ear where she had released the string. The smirk on her face let Lucian know he was in for a, "You owe me one" and he smiled back at her.
Her eyes widened in shock and surprise and Lucian saw a shaft and fletching appear in her side.
"DEVLIIIIIN!!!" Lucian screamed and he sprinted towards her heedless of any possible danger. The archer on the opposite side also ran in the same direction, moving to protect the wizard.
As Lucian drew close to Devlin his mind raced taking in almost too much information. Her breaths were coming in short, shallow, pained gasps, there was blood at her mouth, she was still awake and had not fallen back onto the arrow, how to remove it, should it be removed, how to help her...and on...all in an instant.
When he reached her she was kneeling but falling backwards. Dropping his sword and shield Lucian caught her and eased her into a more comfortable position. Very little blood was at the wound but judging by the location at least one lung was punctured...maybe both...maybe more than just lung. He pushed these thoughts away.
"I'm here Dev. I'm here. I've got you and you're going to be alright." His heart thundered in his chest and his mouth was bone dry.
Devlin coughed spraying flecks of blood onto her chin and chest. "You normally lie better." she tried to smile but it quickly became a wince when she tried to breath in.
"Shhhh...don't talk. Save your breath and I'll get you out of here.", Lucian soothed brushing his hand against her forehead.
"I'm not leaving...but...don't feel bad..." her breathing was becoming shorter and faster. "I got what I always wanted today." She panted.
"What was that Dev?" Lucian asked swallowing dryly.
"I got you...to cry out my name...with feeling." She smiled and laughed softly between coughs.
He smiled down at her brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.
"You see Luc...," she gasped "You aren't the only one who has cheesy lines." And with that her eyes became distant and she was gone.
Most people say that rage burns in them. For Lucian that was never the case. For him rage was always a thing of cold...and now it poured over him like an arctic waterfall from head to toe.
Laying Devlin down gently he stood and turned towards the remaining men. The archer had passed the wizard's chair and was heading down the walkway towards him. The archer's pace slowed when he saw his prey stand and he held an arrow at the ready.
Lucian bent and picked up his sword. The handle seemed to hum in his grasp and it felt like a part of him, sharing in his ice cold rage. His head was bowed slightly as he took a deep, slow, deliberate breath. Slowly he raised his head and eyes to stare at the man before him. His face was a mask of calm as he raised the katana in his hand and pointed at his foe...and then he began to jog forward. His pace was not fast at all. It was a distance pace. The pace of one who had traveled long time under his own power. The pace of one who knew how to keep going in even the most desolate of places. It was the pace of a Waste Runner.
The archer knew distance was his ally so he took careful aim and the naked man before him. The fool had left the shield where it lay in an obvious emotional mistake and he would pay for it dearly. He aimed at the lower mid-mass of his target, shooting for the hips. As the arrow flew he smirked at how painful this man's death would be.
*TAK* The arrow seemed to unintentionally strike the hilt of the man's sword as he jogged forward. The man seemed to take no notice of this good luck and just continued to jog. Another arrow was launched, this one higher. *TAK* The man's blade seemed to just barely parry the arrow aside as he continued to jog. *TAK* Again it seemed the arrow was barely parried. The man's expression didn't change nor did his pace. Despite the apparent leisurely manner in which the man ran he was almost upon the archer. In a panic the archer knocked two arrows at once to his string. It was a terrible shot for accuracy at any great distance but up close...there was no way he could block both arrows. No....way. He waited until the man was almost upon him and he loosed both arrows.
Lucian's sword flashed quickly, slicing an arrow coming for his stomach neatly in two. Blood splashed on his face and he stopped.
The tip from the second arrow was barely a finger tips distance from his left eye. A drop of blood slowly pulled away from it and fell on his cheek. Looking back from the point Lucian could see torn flesh of his forearm tangled on the shaft as it pierced through just beneath his wrist. He slowly lowered his arm and stared at the archer who stood in shock.
Lucian strode forward as the archer dropped his bow and fumbled for the falchion at his side. As the thick bladed weapon was drawn out Lucian neatly flipped his own blade so it faced upwards and slid it forward. As the archer continued to bring his weapon outwards his own motion dragged his arm along the razor-like blade cutting deeply and cruelly.
With a yelp of surprise the man dropped his weapon and turned to run. Lucian was on him in a moment. His sword sliced effortlessly through the tendons at the back of the man's legs dropping him roughly to his knees. He then stepped close and held the man in place with the back of his sword.
"Do you have any last words or regrets?" Lucian growled in the man's ear.
"Yes! I...*GUK*" the archer's words were cut off as Lucian drove the arrow, still logged in his arm, into the man's throat.
"Just wondering." Lucian finished. He then broke the fletched end off the arrow and slid his arm off the shaft, leaving it sticking from its owner's throat.
"Now wizard," Lucian began "I believe you still owe me a dance. No?"
Lucian looked up to the large chair at the end of the arena and found it empty. Quickly looking around he confirmed the wizard was nowhere to be seen.
Where rage was a frozen wasteland within him hatred always burned...and now it roared within him.
"WIZAAAAARD!!!" Lucian's roaring voice matched the fire within him. "I will find you! You will beg me for death!!!"
Lucian turned to face his fallen Devlin. Something squeezed his heart and his throat burned suddenly but he fought those feelings. He took a step forward and stumbled slightly. Now that the fighting was done his body was tired. Taking a few more steps he heard the clang of his sword as it slipped from his grasp. Looking down confusedly his head swam. "What?" he began...then he noticed numbness in his limbs..."Poison..." he mumbled. The arrows must also be poisoned somehow. Quickly he tried to begin the spell he had learned to remove the toxin from him...to heal his wounds...darkness began to envelope him...but...was it the spell or..was....he....
The stone floor felt cool against his naked body as he fell.
Bringing his shield up Lucian was greeted with two more *spangs* as arrows struck the metal. He glanced once again to take stock of his opponents.
The archer he approached was holding his shot waiting for the right time to shoot. This wasn't good at all. Once Lucian brought his shield up to avoid another arrow he would leave his legs and right side open as the angle of incoming arrows changed. Out of his peripheral vision he watched as the far archer drew back to fire once again...they were going to time this well.
Suddenly the man before him lurched awkwardly as an arrowhead sprouted from his eye socket. The arrow he had held launched harmlessly overhead as his body then fell to the arena floor below. Looking past the place where his foe had stood he saw Devlin standing. She held a bow of her own straight ahead. Her other arm still by her ear where she had released the string. The smirk on her face let Lucian know he was in for a, "You owe me one" and he smiled back at her.
Her eyes widened in shock and surprise and Lucian saw a shaft and fletching appear in her side.
"DEVLIIIIIN!!!" Lucian screamed and he sprinted towards her heedless of any possible danger. The archer on the opposite side also ran in the same direction, moving to protect the wizard.
As Lucian drew close to Devlin his mind raced taking in almost too much information. Her breaths were coming in short, shallow, pained gasps, there was blood at her mouth, she was still awake and had not fallen back onto the arrow, how to remove it, should it be removed, how to help her...and on...all in an instant.
When he reached her she was kneeling but falling backwards. Dropping his sword and shield Lucian caught her and eased her into a more comfortable position. Very little blood was at the wound but judging by the location at least one lung was punctured...maybe both...maybe more than just lung. He pushed these thoughts away.
"I'm here Dev. I'm here. I've got you and you're going to be alright." His heart thundered in his chest and his mouth was bone dry.
Devlin coughed spraying flecks of blood onto her chin and chest. "You normally lie better." she tried to smile but it quickly became a wince when she tried to breath in.
"Shhhh...don't talk. Save your breath and I'll get you out of here.", Lucian soothed brushing his hand against her forehead.
"I'm not leaving...but...don't feel bad..." her breathing was becoming shorter and faster. "I got what I always wanted today." She panted.
"What was that Dev?" Lucian asked swallowing dryly.
"I got you...to cry out my name...with feeling." She smiled and laughed softly between coughs.
He smiled down at her brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.
"You see Luc...," she gasped "You aren't the only one who has cheesy lines." And with that her eyes became distant and she was gone.
Most people say that rage burns in them. For Lucian that was never the case. For him rage was always a thing of cold...and now it poured over him like an arctic waterfall from head to toe.
Laying Devlin down gently he stood and turned towards the remaining men. The archer had passed the wizard's chair and was heading down the walkway towards him. The archer's pace slowed when he saw his prey stand and he held an arrow at the ready.
Lucian bent and picked up his sword. The handle seemed to hum in his grasp and it felt like a part of him, sharing in his ice cold rage. His head was bowed slightly as he took a deep, slow, deliberate breath. Slowly he raised his head and eyes to stare at the man before him. His face was a mask of calm as he raised the katana in his hand and pointed at his foe...and then he began to jog forward. His pace was not fast at all. It was a distance pace. The pace of one who had traveled long time under his own power. The pace of one who knew how to keep going in even the most desolate of places. It was the pace of a Waste Runner.
The archer knew distance was his ally so he took careful aim and the naked man before him. The fool had left the shield where it lay in an obvious emotional mistake and he would pay for it dearly. He aimed at the lower mid-mass of his target, shooting for the hips. As the arrow flew he smirked at how painful this man's death would be.
*TAK* The arrow seemed to unintentionally strike the hilt of the man's sword as he jogged forward. The man seemed to take no notice of this good luck and just continued to jog. Another arrow was launched, this one higher. *TAK* The man's blade seemed to just barely parry the arrow aside as he continued to jog. *TAK* Again it seemed the arrow was barely parried. The man's expression didn't change nor did his pace. Despite the apparent leisurely manner in which the man ran he was almost upon the archer. In a panic the archer knocked two arrows at once to his string. It was a terrible shot for accuracy at any great distance but up close...there was no way he could block both arrows. No....way. He waited until the man was almost upon him and he loosed both arrows.
Lucian's sword flashed quickly, slicing an arrow coming for his stomach neatly in two. Blood splashed on his face and he stopped.
The tip from the second arrow was barely a finger tips distance from his left eye. A drop of blood slowly pulled away from it and fell on his cheek. Looking back from the point Lucian could see torn flesh of his forearm tangled on the shaft as it pierced through just beneath his wrist. He slowly lowered his arm and stared at the archer who stood in shock.
Lucian strode forward as the archer dropped his bow and fumbled for the falchion at his side. As the thick bladed weapon was drawn out Lucian neatly flipped his own blade so it faced upwards and slid it forward. As the archer continued to bring his weapon outwards his own motion dragged his arm along the razor-like blade cutting deeply and cruelly.
With a yelp of surprise the man dropped his weapon and turned to run. Lucian was on him in a moment. His sword sliced effortlessly through the tendons at the back of the man's legs dropping him roughly to his knees. He then stepped close and held the man in place with the back of his sword.
"Do you have any last words or regrets?" Lucian growled in the man's ear.
"Yes! I...*GUK*" the archer's words were cut off as Lucian drove the arrow, still logged in his arm, into the man's throat.
"Just wondering." Lucian finished. He then broke the fletched end off the arrow and slid his arm off the shaft, leaving it sticking from its owner's throat.
"Now wizard," Lucian began "I believe you still owe me a dance. No?"
Lucian looked up to the large chair at the end of the arena and found it empty. Quickly looking around he confirmed the wizard was nowhere to be seen.
Where rage was a frozen wasteland within him hatred always burned...and now it roared within him.
"WIZAAAAARD!!!" Lucian's roaring voice matched the fire within him. "I will find you! You will beg me for death!!!"
Lucian turned to face his fallen Devlin. Something squeezed his heart and his throat burned suddenly but he fought those feelings. He took a step forward and stumbled slightly. Now that the fighting was done his body was tired. Taking a few more steps he heard the clang of his sword as it slipped from his grasp. Looking down confusedly his head swam. "What?" he began...then he noticed numbness in his limbs..."Poison..." he mumbled. The arrows must also be poisoned somehow. Quickly he tried to begin the spell he had learned to remove the toxin from him...to heal his wounds...darkness began to envelope him...but...was it the spell or..was....he....
The stone floor felt cool against his naked body as he fell.
Friday, December 13, 2013
Hunted: Part 11
Lucian devoured the distance to the wall with long hungry strides. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead but his mind went over the details and plans...which he knew would change as they always did.
The walls stood at twice the span of a tall man. At the top of the walls, at roughly the cardinal points of the oblong arena, stood archers. Each had a rectangular shield propped in front of their position by falchion to provide both cover from arena fighting archers and a secondary weapon set should someone mount the wall.
Each archer was strenuously trained to be accurate from any of the positions and, if required, would fire at foes in combat with one of his cohorts. The span that ran around the arena was roughly 6 feet across with another wall the reached the high arched ceiling preventing someone from circling around.
Lucian knew their very strict commands. They would only fire at someone who managed to gain purchase at the top of the wall...unless the wizard commanded them to fire upon someone still in the pit.
Lucian ran directly towards the wall keeping his eyes away from his true destination. The less time the archers had to respond the better.
Cutting sharply to the right Lucian ran parallel to the wall, his eyes now focused on the large poleaxe still lodged in its surface. As he got closer he leapt landing on the very end of the long haft. The thick handle flexed under his weight and then released like a spring launching him suddenly upward.
As his feet left his perch he threw his katana at the archer nearest him; the blade spinning towards its target made an evil slicing sound.
The archer was taken aback by the sudden missile weapon spinning towards him. Dropping awkwardly to the side his knocked arrow launched harmlessly out into the arena.
With the added force provided by the poleaxe Lucian easily managed to vault to the top of the wall. He quickly tucked and rolled forward in a somersault bringing him to his feet in its completion. The *TACK* *TACK* sound of arrows striking stone marked where his body had been a moment before.
The distance to the archer was only three long strides but Lucian's sword now lay behind his foe. Naked and unarmed he sprinted toward the recovering archer trying to close the distance as quickly as possible.
The archer dropped his bow and deftly picked up his sword and shield backing up as he did so. He was trained for this situation and he knew exactly how to deal with this naked fool. He knew his foe, unarmed and unarmored, would be on the defensive avoiding the cruel single edged sword he faced. His job was to simply keep his enemy occupied while his brothers quickly ending his life from afar.
Lucian knew the archer's plan and simply ran forward throwing a powerful front kick directly at the center of his enemy. Instinctively the archer brought his shield up which simply formed a solid point for the force to strike and push him backwards suddenly.
The archer's heels struck something. Glancing down he noted the long curved blade thrown at him a moment ago. Obviously his opponent planned to force him back to gain his weapon. THAT wasn't going to happen. Planting his feet he placed his shield defensively and his sword atop his shield point facing his foe.
Lucian faked another kick at the shield before him knowing how the man would react. With limited space to fight, a wall to his immediate right, and a shield on his left arm the man had to either let the kick connect or...
The archer saw the expected kick come in. Instead of bracing for the blow he relaxed his arm slightly dropping his shield to the left. He rolled his right wrist around bring his sword down in a vicious arc that would certainly hack into the extended and exposed leg.
Lucian let his feinted kick slide off the shield allowing him to step forward with his right leg. As the sword cleaved downwards he pivoted to his left opening space for the blade to pass. As the archer's sword arm was now extended forward Lucian grabbed the edge of the man's shield and viciously shoved it towards the wall. His opponent's wrist painfully pinched between the unforgiving stone of the all and the hard edge of his own shield with a crack.
The archer saw the man step forward instead of forcefully kick. His mind raced as to why or how he missed this gambit...but only for a moment. Suddenly his shield arm jerked to the side and his sword arm exploded in pain as he definitely felt something break in his arm. He watched in horror as his unresponsive hand simply let his weapon fall.
Lucian neatly caught the falling sword in an underhanded grip. Simultaneously pulling the shield arm back and slashing at the archer's now exposed neck he dispatched his opponent. He quickly picked the shield from his dying foe's arm and retrieved his own sword from the ground.
As he lay face down the archer watched his last moments pump away from him slower and softer with each beat of his heart. How...............how..........h..........
Lucian ducked behind his shield in time for another group of arrows to strike. *THAKTHAK* They hit almost as one. But...there should be three more archers....three arrows. Risking a quick glance above his only protection his eyes took everything in.
The archer at this end of the arena lay dead at his feet. Along each long length of wall another archer stood, each with matched sword and shield. At the far end was his goal...the wizard and...standing off to one side stood Devlin. At her feet lay the third archer face down, one of her daggers stood proudly from the man's back. She was knocking an arrow to the bow she had taken from him.
The wizard...looked amused.
Lucian began running down the section of wall that was on his right. This allowed him the most protection while using the shield and as long as both archers didn't shoot so the arrows reached him at the same time....he should be fine.
...Right?
The walls stood at twice the span of a tall man. At the top of the walls, at roughly the cardinal points of the oblong arena, stood archers. Each had a rectangular shield propped in front of their position by falchion to provide both cover from arena fighting archers and a secondary weapon set should someone mount the wall.
Each archer was strenuously trained to be accurate from any of the positions and, if required, would fire at foes in combat with one of his cohorts. The span that ran around the arena was roughly 6 feet across with another wall the reached the high arched ceiling preventing someone from circling around.
Lucian knew their very strict commands. They would only fire at someone who managed to gain purchase at the top of the wall...unless the wizard commanded them to fire upon someone still in the pit.
Lucian ran directly towards the wall keeping his eyes away from his true destination. The less time the archers had to respond the better.
Cutting sharply to the right Lucian ran parallel to the wall, his eyes now focused on the large poleaxe still lodged in its surface. As he got closer he leapt landing on the very end of the long haft. The thick handle flexed under his weight and then released like a spring launching him suddenly upward.
As his feet left his perch he threw his katana at the archer nearest him; the blade spinning towards its target made an evil slicing sound.
The archer was taken aback by the sudden missile weapon spinning towards him. Dropping awkwardly to the side his knocked arrow launched harmlessly out into the arena.
With the added force provided by the poleaxe Lucian easily managed to vault to the top of the wall. He quickly tucked and rolled forward in a somersault bringing him to his feet in its completion. The *TACK* *TACK* sound of arrows striking stone marked where his body had been a moment before.
The distance to the archer was only three long strides but Lucian's sword now lay behind his foe. Naked and unarmed he sprinted toward the recovering archer trying to close the distance as quickly as possible.
The archer dropped his bow and deftly picked up his sword and shield backing up as he did so. He was trained for this situation and he knew exactly how to deal with this naked fool. He knew his foe, unarmed and unarmored, would be on the defensive avoiding the cruel single edged sword he faced. His job was to simply keep his enemy occupied while his brothers quickly ending his life from afar.
Lucian knew the archer's plan and simply ran forward throwing a powerful front kick directly at the center of his enemy. Instinctively the archer brought his shield up which simply formed a solid point for the force to strike and push him backwards suddenly.
The archer's heels struck something. Glancing down he noted the long curved blade thrown at him a moment ago. Obviously his opponent planned to force him back to gain his weapon. THAT wasn't going to happen. Planting his feet he placed his shield defensively and his sword atop his shield point facing his foe.
Lucian faked another kick at the shield before him knowing how the man would react. With limited space to fight, a wall to his immediate right, and a shield on his left arm the man had to either let the kick connect or...
The archer saw the expected kick come in. Instead of bracing for the blow he relaxed his arm slightly dropping his shield to the left. He rolled his right wrist around bring his sword down in a vicious arc that would certainly hack into the extended and exposed leg.
Lucian let his feinted kick slide off the shield allowing him to step forward with his right leg. As the sword cleaved downwards he pivoted to his left opening space for the blade to pass. As the archer's sword arm was now extended forward Lucian grabbed the edge of the man's shield and viciously shoved it towards the wall. His opponent's wrist painfully pinched between the unforgiving stone of the all and the hard edge of his own shield with a crack.
The archer saw the man step forward instead of forcefully kick. His mind raced as to why or how he missed this gambit...but only for a moment. Suddenly his shield arm jerked to the side and his sword arm exploded in pain as he definitely felt something break in his arm. He watched in horror as his unresponsive hand simply let his weapon fall.
Lucian neatly caught the falling sword in an underhanded grip. Simultaneously pulling the shield arm back and slashing at the archer's now exposed neck he dispatched his opponent. He quickly picked the shield from his dying foe's arm and retrieved his own sword from the ground.
As he lay face down the archer watched his last moments pump away from him slower and softer with each beat of his heart. How...............how..........h..........
Lucian ducked behind his shield in time for another group of arrows to strike. *THAKTHAK* They hit almost as one. But...there should be three more archers....three arrows. Risking a quick glance above his only protection his eyes took everything in.
The archer at this end of the arena lay dead at his feet. Along each long length of wall another archer stood, each with matched sword and shield. At the far end was his goal...the wizard and...standing off to one side stood Devlin. At her feet lay the third archer face down, one of her daggers stood proudly from the man's back. She was knocking an arrow to the bow she had taken from him.
The wizard...looked amused.
Lucian began running down the section of wall that was on his right. This allowed him the most protection while using the shield and as long as both archers didn't shoot so the arrows reached him at the same time....he should be fine.
...Right?
Thursday, December 5, 2013
*TOOT* *TOOT* The Fail Train!
I honestly think at times that I'm a failure. I am....and have failed...so it isn't specifically that. Everyone has, at one time or another, failed. Not succeeded. No shame in that. In fact...most great moves forward come from the stumbles, trips, and even falls of previous attempts.
But...at times...I feel I have failed greatly. Missed a very large and important mark. Or from time to time missed several.
Most of these feelings come from my own expectations...sometimes ones I've chosen to accept from outside sources but mostly from me alone.
I usually manage to, eventually, come to grips that my perceived failing or failure was in fact simply a different way to grow or a new opportunity.
But sometimes...when outside distractions grow quiet...the short and unerasable list stares me in the face and I can not rationalize it away. There are things that I personally feel I have failed at...that I have failed utterly and unequivocally NOT succeeded at.
I'd like to think that...I could take the missed opportunities and learn from them but......each rare but grand failure...is different and comes so unexpectedly that the wisdom I'd learned from past faux pas does me little to no good at all.
Like an albatross they hang from my neck and no hand can remove them.
I simply continue with my life...acting out each day like I can make some magical comeback like the protagonist in a novel. Through witty, sincere, heartfelt truths spoken to the woman I love I win her heart and we marry in a magical wedding. Like I can simply walk away from my job with a firm but honest opinion about why I'm leaving to do the things I love and be successful at them. But no credits will roll while a cool and popular "feel good" sing plays on the sound track....while short images flash in smaller boxes showing how great and wonderful life has become.
I just keep rolling farther down the line in my failure train. Thinking back to how I should have gotten off at "that" stop.
I don't often think these things...just sometimes. I specifically try to avoid dwelling on these things, not simply because of the melancholy feelings they bring but because if I spend my time looking back down the tracks at the stop I missed...I'll most likely miss another...
Enjoy the ride but don't miss your transfers and stops.
But...at times...I feel I have failed greatly. Missed a very large and important mark. Or from time to time missed several.
Most of these feelings come from my own expectations...sometimes ones I've chosen to accept from outside sources but mostly from me alone.
I usually manage to, eventually, come to grips that my perceived failing or failure was in fact simply a different way to grow or a new opportunity.
But sometimes...when outside distractions grow quiet...the short and unerasable list stares me in the face and I can not rationalize it away. There are things that I personally feel I have failed at...that I have failed utterly and unequivocally NOT succeeded at.
I'd like to think that...I could take the missed opportunities and learn from them but......each rare but grand failure...is different and comes so unexpectedly that the wisdom I'd learned from past faux pas does me little to no good at all.
Like an albatross they hang from my neck and no hand can remove them.
I simply continue with my life...acting out each day like I can make some magical comeback like the protagonist in a novel. Through witty, sincere, heartfelt truths spoken to the woman I love I win her heart and we marry in a magical wedding. Like I can simply walk away from my job with a firm but honest opinion about why I'm leaving to do the things I love and be successful at them. But no credits will roll while a cool and popular "feel good" sing plays on the sound track....while short images flash in smaller boxes showing how great and wonderful life has become.
I just keep rolling farther down the line in my failure train. Thinking back to how I should have gotten off at "that" stop.
I don't often think these things...just sometimes. I specifically try to avoid dwelling on these things, not simply because of the melancholy feelings they bring but because if I spend my time looking back down the tracks at the stop I missed...I'll most likely miss another...
Enjoy the ride but don't miss your transfers and stops.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)