Post by Mr. Bubbles on Jun 12, 2007 5:03:48 GMT -5
This is my first dtory, and done in the middle of the night, so be gentle with the criticism.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Andrew didn't know what woke him up. It was odd that anything could wake him after the day he had had. Sitting up in his bed, he looked around his small room, he searched for anything out of place in the dark room. It was a plain room, without much in it. In the corner by the door on the other side of the room was a washstand with a mirror, and across the room in the other corner was the dresser he kept his clothes in. Against one wall was a cabinet were he kept his small collection of books, another door to its side.. His gaze paused on the sword on the table near his bed. The blade, sharp on only one edge and lightly curved with words worked into its side, seemed to glow in the faint moonlight that struck it from the single window, bared in the fashion of the newly accepted master swordsman. The hilt was long enough for two hands to hold, and was flanked in short quillons worked to look like a braid, showing it to be a blademasters weapon.
He smiled slightly at the bared blade, still filled with the pride at having attained the sword earlier that day, but, remembering the unease that had settled on him as he awoke, his smile faded. Slowly, he stood and reached for the blade, looking warily around the room. Picking up the sword, Andrew cautiously crossed the room to the door. Before he could open it, the door was swung in, forcing him to step back. The figure in the doorway was of a height with him. It's black mail and cloak seemed to drink in the moonlight, its cowl pulled up to conceal its face. The things sword , held in both hands, was sinuously curved and as black as its clothes.
Andrew stared at it, dumbfounded. "A Wraith," he whispered hoarsely. But how? he thought, There hasn't been a Wraith this far south in a hundred years! The Wraith seemed to smile at him from under the cowl, a cruel, twisted smile. It walked gracefully toward him, slowly, as if it did not think Andrew would pose any problem. Andrew decided to prove it wrong. They came together in a whirl of blades, sparks flashing when the two swords met. The Wraith was as fast as the stoties said, its blade a black blur meeting his own every strike, pushing him steadily farther back into the room. He knew that he had to stop defending and attack, but the Testing had left him weary, and lack of sleep only added to it. He had to finish this quickly, before he began to slow down.
The black sword came in high to the left and he squated down, leaving the Wraith open for a moment. His sword flashed out in an arc, cutting the the Wraith deeply from shoulder to waist, staggering it back and sending black blood to the floor. For a moment, Andrew relaxed, thinking it dead, but to his surprise and horror, the Wraith laughed mockingly, a horrifying sound that sent chills down his spine. "You cannot kill me so easily, worm," it said in a rasping voice, "You should have let me end it in the beginning. It would have been far more pleasant for you." Andrew shivered, wondering if it was even possible to kill it.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he rose and started for the creature. It raised its blade and met him in the doorway. Andrew fought as hard as he ever had fought in his life. Matching it stroke for stroke, he drove the thing slowly backward itno the night. The Wraith still seemed to be smiling, mocking his efforts to defeat it. It's toying with me, he thought bleakly, but pushed the thought away fiercely. If that were true, it would have killed him by now. And it seemed to be slowing down. That wound is helping, slowing it more than any lack of sleep could. He took heart from that thought.The Wraith jabbed hard, attempting to skewer him, but he deftly moved to to the left, to the things side. He cocked his arm, and swung with all his might, muscles powered by fright. The Wraiths head flew off as Andrews sword bit through the other side of its neck.
He sank to his knees and laughed hysterically as the headless corpse fell twitching to the ground. When he realized he was laughing, he stopped with a grimace and looked around warily. After all, the Wraith might not have been alone. He shuddered at the thought. After a moment, he stood and cleaned off his blade on the Wraiths cloak, then stood uncertainly for a time. What do I do? The Sa'rasad will want to know about this, but duty goes first to the Lord of the Keep. The alarms sounding in the distance solved his dilemma. Grimly, he walked toward the sound of battle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Andrew didn't know what woke him up. It was odd that anything could wake him after the day he had had. Sitting up in his bed, he looked around his small room, he searched for anything out of place in the dark room. It was a plain room, without much in it. In the corner by the door on the other side of the room was a washstand with a mirror, and across the room in the other corner was the dresser he kept his clothes in. Against one wall was a cabinet were he kept his small collection of books, another door to its side.. His gaze paused on the sword on the table near his bed. The blade, sharp on only one edge and lightly curved with words worked into its side, seemed to glow in the faint moonlight that struck it from the single window, bared in the fashion of the newly accepted master swordsman. The hilt was long enough for two hands to hold, and was flanked in short quillons worked to look like a braid, showing it to be a blademasters weapon.
He smiled slightly at the bared blade, still filled with the pride at having attained the sword earlier that day, but, remembering the unease that had settled on him as he awoke, his smile faded. Slowly, he stood and reached for the blade, looking warily around the room. Picking up the sword, Andrew cautiously crossed the room to the door. Before he could open it, the door was swung in, forcing him to step back. The figure in the doorway was of a height with him. It's black mail and cloak seemed to drink in the moonlight, its cowl pulled up to conceal its face. The things sword , held in both hands, was sinuously curved and as black as its clothes.
Andrew stared at it, dumbfounded. "A Wraith," he whispered hoarsely. But how? he thought, There hasn't been a Wraith this far south in a hundred years! The Wraith seemed to smile at him from under the cowl, a cruel, twisted smile. It walked gracefully toward him, slowly, as if it did not think Andrew would pose any problem. Andrew decided to prove it wrong. They came together in a whirl of blades, sparks flashing when the two swords met. The Wraith was as fast as the stoties said, its blade a black blur meeting his own every strike, pushing him steadily farther back into the room. He knew that he had to stop defending and attack, but the Testing had left him weary, and lack of sleep only added to it. He had to finish this quickly, before he began to slow down.
The black sword came in high to the left and he squated down, leaving the Wraith open for a moment. His sword flashed out in an arc, cutting the the Wraith deeply from shoulder to waist, staggering it back and sending black blood to the floor. For a moment, Andrew relaxed, thinking it dead, but to his surprise and horror, the Wraith laughed mockingly, a horrifying sound that sent chills down his spine. "You cannot kill me so easily, worm," it said in a rasping voice, "You should have let me end it in the beginning. It would have been far more pleasant for you." Andrew shivered, wondering if it was even possible to kill it.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he rose and started for the creature. It raised its blade and met him in the doorway. Andrew fought as hard as he ever had fought in his life. Matching it stroke for stroke, he drove the thing slowly backward itno the night. The Wraith still seemed to be smiling, mocking his efforts to defeat it. It's toying with me, he thought bleakly, but pushed the thought away fiercely. If that were true, it would have killed him by now. And it seemed to be slowing down. That wound is helping, slowing it more than any lack of sleep could. He took heart from that thought.The Wraith jabbed hard, attempting to skewer him, but he deftly moved to to the left, to the things side. He cocked his arm, and swung with all his might, muscles powered by fright. The Wraiths head flew off as Andrews sword bit through the other side of its neck.
He sank to his knees and laughed hysterically as the headless corpse fell twitching to the ground. When he realized he was laughing, he stopped with a grimace and looked around warily. After all, the Wraith might not have been alone. He shuddered at the thought. After a moment, he stood and cleaned off his blade on the Wraiths cloak, then stood uncertainly for a time. What do I do? The Sa'rasad will want to know about this, but duty goes first to the Lord of the Keep. The alarms sounding in the distance solved his dilemma. Grimly, he walked toward the sound of battle.