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12/7/2008 1:49:27   
_Depression
Member

Eroica


Preface:

This tale is going to be more of a strict fantasy than a realistic fantasy like Author's Fantasy; it takes place in the mid-19th century, on Earth, but with a few historical differences that will be clarified as the story progresses. Much of the story's plot will involve the idea of a quest, similar to many RPG franchises (Final Fantasy, Tales of Symphonia...), but I hope I can introduce my own flair to the admittedly cliche style.

I... would like to ask one thing of the reader, however. I ask that the reader, when he or she has finished whatever chapter he or she is reading, please post some sort of comment about it. It can be something you liked about the chapter, or something you didn't like; it can be a quote, or a scene, or even just a bit of description that you thought was really well done. But I really would like to emphasize that the reader post something. Most of what I have accomplished in terms of improving has been due to comments as simple as, "I liked the part where ________ because __________."

Thank you in advance, and I hope you enjoy reading.

Other works by _Depression:
Author's Fantasy
When Ryan Aberythstye, a struggling amateur author with admittedly little skill, suddenly finds himself inspired to write a fantasy story, something happens - his writing comes out written like an experienced author, and Ryan's not the only one to notice. But why should he care? For once, he truly feels that his characters are jumping off the page. That's all good and fun, until he meets one of those same characters driving around town. And suddenly, Ryan cares. Princesses, werewolves, and magic abound in Author's Fantasy, and its sequel, Fantasy Shattered.

Verses from a Mind Confused
A small collection of poems from _Depression, ranging from the deeply romantic to the lightly comedic, and everything in between.
AQ  Post #: 1
12/7/2008 1:58:34   
_Depression
Member

Without her screaming, we might have made it to the border. Escaped to the other side - to freedom. To life. But she wailed so loudly, waking the birds in their nests and the little squirrels and chipmunks and rabbits that called the forest home. I tried to warn her, to be quiet, so we might get to the border, but she cried anyway. And now-

Well, how can I blame her? How can anyone blame a five-month-old baby for crying? She was probably hungry, which would make her wailing my fault, for not feeding her. But I was so busy... packing what little I could into pillowcases and slinging them up with cloth torn from our bed sheets. Petr and I- we tried. We did, really we did. We wanted to escape this oppression, this Iron Curtain, as the outside world called it. And, well, we called it that too. Just, not where the authorities could hear.

But the baby was crying. Far be it for me to stop her and act like nothing had happened. She screamed, and we took off running. Petr and I, charging through that dark, cold, frightening silent forest as if a pack of thrashing wolves were after baby Erica. We would have gratefully given our lives for her safety. We would have died - both of us, ready to give up our lives - if only we could get baby Erica to the other side. To life, and to freedom. But how could we, with her crying? The patrols had heard us, no doubt, and the greeting party at the border would be gone, back to the safety of their homes.

So, we ran. We stumbled over roots and nearly crashed into the dark trees that rushed into our range of vision split seconds before they would have hit us - but we managed to dodge them somehow. Maybe it was the adrenaline pulsing through me that kept me from falling or running into the countless trees. We ran as fast as we could, but as we ran we heard shouts - Russian shouts, and savage dogs' barking - and with every scared pound of my heart the sounds grew closer. How could they catch us when we were flying like birds from gunshots? Gunshots - I could hear that, too. And I only ran harder.

I don't remember when my feet started hurting, or when I lost Petr in the darkness, but when my right leg collapsed mid-stride and I fell to the soft earth, I realized both. I was scared - and the shouts and barks and gunshots only drew nearer - and baby Erica was still in my arms, asleep now. How she could sleep, I still have no clue. The chaos of that night keeps returning to me, even these months after it all happened, and I cannot fathom sleep when it does. But why did not matter to me as I lay on the cold ground, clutching her tightly to me. She was quiet, which let me hide in the tumult; and I glanced around frantically, fearing the dogs would find me, and saw a river not far from me. No, not a river, more like a small brook.

Whatever the name for it was, it was to it that I crawled, my right leg refusing to support any weight I tried on it. I crawled quickly and silently across the damp, cold dirt and grass, ignoring the sting of the freezing mud and water on my hand and side as I dragged myself into the water. But the water made me feel the fatigue of the escape, and with every exhausting inch I moved I fell closer to sleep. But I could not allow myself to stop, and so I did all I could think of - I positioned my tongue in between my upper and lower teeth, and bit down into the muscle. It hurt - oh, how it hurt - but it kept me awake as I pulled my emaciated self through the freezing water.

And suddenly, quite suddenly, I heard Petr screaming out from a long distance away. I never knew why he shouted as he had; I never saw him or heard from him again, but I tell myself a fairytale story of what he did. I tell myself that he had turned and ran as far and as hard as he could away from me, and screamed out to take the Russians and their beasts of dogs off of my trail. And that he ran again, knowing when he heard the harsh, foreign shouts to action that they had taken his bait. I tell myself that our God forgave him of his sins with me, neither his wife nor his family, when he sacrificed himself so heroically.

And with the Russians running away from me, I dragged myself still onward, trying to hold baby Erica above my head to keep her warm and dry. But the adrenaline ebbed from me quickly and I grew too tired to move any farther, and feeling my eyes begin to close and my muscles begin to loosen, I did all I could - I pulled myself with one final surge of energy so that I could lay baby Erica on the dry land. I smiled at her as she slept, and laid my head down, and fell too quickly into the darkness of my exhaustion.

When I woke, and without knowing how long I had slept, I turned over on the soft bed of leaves and feathers I had been laid on and threw off the warm quilt that covered me. I sat up and scanned the room I was in - it seemed more a cave than a room, its rough, bare rock walls and floor adorned by nothing save the bed I sat in and the single, short candle standing lit in the center of the room. My mind began to throb as questions tore through me, asking where I was and who had brought me here and- and where baby Erica was.

Without thinking I shot to my feet - and crumpled to the floor as my right leg again failed me. I cried out in pain and drew myself to a sitting position, nursing my right knee as it began to bruise from hitting the hard ground. And then, suddenly, a door I had not seen was flung open and a massive figure stepped into the room and into the aura of yellow light provided by the nearly used candle. I froze for a moment as he took another step in my direction, my eyes flashing from his bald head to the smooth stone embedded in his outstretched palm, to the clearly defined muscles of his bare upper body and lower legs.

He smiled at me with his perfectly straight, white teeth and offered me his hand, saying in an unnaturally deep voice, "You're all right."

I had frozen with shock and was staring at the rock in his hand, wondering who this man was - if he really was a man. He was at least eight feet tall and thicker than a tree trunk; the muscles on his stomach alone could have held a baby - and again I was sparked into action by the thought of baby Erica. I tossed myself at his leg and pounded against his unyielding flesh, crying and shouting for her, for baby Erica.

And the giant of a man touched his finger to my back - a finger as large as my hand but, unlike his leg, as soft as baby Erica's skin - and cooed, "She is sleeping, in the next room." Again he offered his hand. "Come, I will bring you to her."

I let the giant lift me into his arms, cradling me the way I longed to cradle baby Erica, and carry me from the room. The hallway outside where I had slept was dimly lit by torches, hung at small intervals down the seemingly endless hall, and I could not help but wonder where I was. The walls and ceiling were the same rock as that in the room I had awoken in, and it stretched on beyond where I could see. I fantasized that I had been brought underground, to where a palace so large it stretched over the curvature of the Earth had been built.

But I heard baby Erica crying, and my imaginings disappeared. I wished my carrier would walk faster than he did, feeling with my mother's instinct that I had still many torches to pass before I would see my baby's face, and he sped up as if he had heard my thoughts. I counted the torches as we passed them as baby Erica's cries grew closer, and had almost reached twenty when the giant stopped and shifted me in his arms to reach out with a hand and open the door on his right. As the door swung out of view, I could see a cluster of five candles on a small table in the center of the room, and beyond that a box-like wooden structure. I could see my baby's small hand reach up, past the rim of the box's wall and into the open air above, and I nearly fainted with joy - she was still alive, baby Erica.

The giant brought me to the box and set me down beside it, backing away so he would not block the candlelight as I pulled baby Erica from her bed of leaves and feathers. I smiled and cried and pressed her into my arms- and froze suddenly. I felt something wrong about what I was holding, and looked closely at my baby. My eyes passed over her light brown hair and her large, blue eyes, and stopped on her bare left shoulder. I turned angrily to the giant, tears welling in my eyes, shouting at him and cursing him and pleading with him to take the stone from her. I turned my eyes back to baby Erica and wept at the sight of the smooth, polished pink stone that was embedded in her left arm just below the shoulder. I ignored the giant as he tried to explain, hearing nothing but my baby's cries and feeling nothing but the smooth sphere of rock that jutted from my baby's skin.

-/-/-

Comments

< Message edited by _Depression -- 12/7/2008 10:34:34 >
AQ  Post #: 2
12/20/2008 1:02:06   
_Depression
Member

Chapter 1: Erica, 13


"You're my mother!" Erica cried, resorting to screaming in the faulty belief that maybe her mother just hadn't heard her the last hundred times. "You're not supposed to be my friend!"

Erica's mother sat, cross-armed and stoic, and listened to her daughter as she ranted. She knew the girl would be thirteen the next day, and that teenagers - those obnoxious brats with pubic hairs - normally suffered from some illusion of being independent, but the current situation was bordering on extreme. When Erica paused to breathe, her onyx-colored hair falling haphazardly in front of her eyes, her mother took the opportunity to speak. "I've already told you ten times not to go to the village without Cephas," she said, her voice as calm as her demeanor. "And yet, what do you do? You go alone." She watched as Erica turned her eyes from her and saw the telltale signs of a blush. "Not all of the giants are gentle, Erica. Especially not the older ones, the ones who remember what the Germans-"

"Yeah, I know," Erica said, rolling her eyes to feign resistance. In truth, she was glad her mother had sent Cephas to find her - she had wandered into the worst part of town, and had Cephas not intervened she might not have been able to wander away. "But you're so controlling. Can't you just let up a little?"

Cephas laughed lightly, standing so deeply in the shadows of the room's corners that Erica had forgotten he was there. "Ausra gives you more than enough freedom," he said, his smooth, deep voice soothing to the young teen. "And even where she doesn't give it to you, you manage to take it yourself."

Erica blushed deeper. She knew Cephas would follow her from a distance many days - he might be a giant of almost two-and-a-half meters and two-hundred-twenty-five kilograms, but he was adept at hiding and staying silent - and on one such day he had followed her as she wandered around the seedier parts of the village. He told her a few days later that he had seen and heard her talking with the blacksmith's son about buying an axe, and that he knew she was planning to steal some of her mother's money to pay for it. She looked to Cephas now and he winked silently at her, which only made her more uncomfortable.

Seeing her daughter hushed, Ausra smiled and stood from her chair. Walking around the table on which the two candles stood burning, she passed Erica and, as she reached the door, called over her shoulder, "You can be the smartest girl on the planet, for all I care, but that doesn't mean you're as smart as your parents."

Erica gave a short 'hmph' as the door closed behind her mother, taking her chair and sitting in it with her arms crossed. "I wasn't going to actually do it, you know," she said softly.

"Yes," Cephas said, stepping out from the shadows and laying the money Erica had taken from her mother's bedroom on the table, "you were." He turned to Erica, smiling, and extended his hand to her. "It's nearly midnight, Erica, and tomorrow is your birthday. You should get some sleep."

Erica sat frozen in the chair, staring at the pile of coins glinting in the candlelight. "But I hid it-"

"Under the false rock inside the small cubby that Ausra had me make for you so you would feel like you had more privacy than you did." He chuckled at the surprise on Erica's face, his rusty orange eyes sparkling as they always did when he was amused. "You don't need to worry. She only told me to make it, she doesn't know where it is."

"Because that makes me feel better," Erica said, her eyes wandering to the highly polished stone in Cephas' outstretched palm that reflected the glow of the candles. She gave him a half-smile. "What, you're going to carry me in the hand with the rock in it?"

"Again, it's a gem, not a rock." He retracted his hand. "And I wasn't going to carry you, I just wanted to help you to your feet."

Erica laughed. "I can walk on my own," she said.

"I think your mother and I have had enough experience of your walking."

"That's not fair." She stood and walked over to the giant, rubbing the smooth, round pink gem in her shoulder. "Why is it called a gem, if it looks like a rock?"

Cephas smiled. "I'll tell you when you're older."

"I'll be older in twenty minutes."

"If I can help it, you'll be asleep in twenty minutes," Cephas remarked, holding the door for Erica and then following her into the torch-lit hallway. "And don't worry about the money, I'll give it back to your mother for you."

"Can't I keep even five crowns?" Erica asked, counting the doors on her left as she walked. Her door was the tenth, but she could have found it without needing to count - it was one of only two with a doorknob, and her doorknob was white and metal, unlike her mother's dull, gray stone one. Please?"

"Sorry," Cephas said, opening the door quickly and ushering Erica inside. "Now go to sleep, you want to be awake for your birthday tomorrow." He waited for the young teen to close the door behind her, and stood back a few yards, smiling. He had spent twelve years preparing this next day, and he wanted both Erica and her mother rested and energetic. God knew they would both need it. When he was satisfied that Erica would not try to sneak out, he turned down the hallway, back to the room where he had left the money.

----------


Erica woke slowly and sat up, staring at the four newly-lit candles on the table in the center of her room. In the cool, rock cavern that was her bedroom, she sighed and undressed. As she had grown accustomed to over the years, Cephas had entered her room and laid out an outfit for her, and this one she recognized from almost two weeks ago; it consisted of a loose-fitting, sky blue tee-shirt and a pair of dark gray jeans. She smiled, realizing as she pulled on her underwear and socks that Cephas had somehow guessed that she had liked the outfit the first time - normally he would repeat outfits monthly, or close enough to it, but this repeat was too soon.

Considering that the giant was, perhaps, psychic, Erica buttoned her jeans and walked over to her door, beside which her sneakers were neatly placed. Cephas put those there, too. As she slid her foot into the sneaker, she paused. Suddenly, her thoughts of being independent from her mother and the giant found a new wrinkle; Cephas provided all of her clothes, as far as she knew, and everything from her food to the candles in the rooms. She frowned, wondering where the giant held all of the supplies. Despite her constant searching and exploring, she had never seen a single unlit candle, or any sign of where her clothes - or her mother's clothes - might be held.

Erica knew that the giants had no need for candles; they could see as clearly in darkness as she could see in light. And where had Cephas gotten her clothes, she wondered. The proportions of a giant's body was different to a human's, or so Cephas had taught her; giants had broader shoulders than their human equivalents, but were more flat, if that was the proper word - the giant's front and back were closer together than a human's. And then there was the problem of general size; by Erica's age, most giants were already nearly two meters tall.

"Erica?" Cephas called through the closed door. "Can I come in?"

So he knew she was awake. She pushed her questions aside and told herself that she would ask later - she had a more important query for the giant. "Sure," she said brightly. She expected Cephas to walk into her room with a handful of presents in one hand, and a package of photographs from cities around the world in the other. Wistfully remembering last year's group of pictures, from a beautiful country in Western Europe called Ireland, and still hoping that Cephas would offer to take her somewhere farther than the cave's entrance, she turned her eyes to the doorknob as it twisted.

The image that greeted Erica did not disappoint her imagination. Cephas stepped into her room with a stack of seven boxes, each wrapped in a different color paper that gleamed in the light. And in his right hand, he held a large manila envelope, inside of which, no doubt, was a good selection of new photographs. "Happy birthday, Lady Erica."

It took Erica a moment to realize what sounded odd about Cephas' greeting. "Lady Erica?"

"Yes. Lady Erica." Cephas smiled sincerely. "You've turned thirteen, so you're obviously not a child anymore. I take it you want to be treated as an adult, and this is how I treat others as adults."

Erica nodded, staring at him with her soft blue eyes. "You don't call my mom 'Lady Ausra.'"

"She told me not to," the giant explained, shrugging; the motion was certainly foreign to him, for it seemed forced and it distorted his skin around his shoulders and neck to a point where Erica was surprised she didn't see bone.

"Well," she said, grinning, "I like it." She tried it with her own tongue, emphasizing the 'Lady' and drawing it out so much she had to inhaled before she could say her name.

Chuckling lightly, Cephas placed the pile of presents on the bed and turned to Erica, motioning toward the boxes with a wave of his hand. "Care to guess what is what?"

Erica grinned. The gifts were one of her favorite parts of her birthday; each present had some correlation to the color or design of its wrapping, and she loved trying to figure out what each box held before she opened it. "Let's start with the white one," she said. "Is it clothes?" Cephas shook his head, and Erica asked herself why she even for a moment thought to guess clothing, knowing full well that she had never gotten a piece of clothing as a birthday present. "Is it a tool?"

Cephas nodded. "Is it for public use?"

"Now why would it be for public use?" Cephas asked, grinning. "You know you're only allowed into the village with me at your side, and I always have whatever we'll need with me."

Erica frowned. "I thought I was being treated like an adult now."

"Like an adult human," the giant clarified. "I even accompany your mother into the village."

"Whatever." She paused. "Is it something I've used before?"

"Yes, and no," Cephas said, smiling.

So Erica would need to be more specific. "Have I used it with you?"

"Yes."

Three items came to mind, none of them she would consider a birthday present. She tried each one, but Cephas shook his head three times. Sighing, she walked over to the bed and sat down beside the stack of presents. "Can I use it more than once?" Cephas nodded. "Can I decorate it?" Again, a nod. "Is it round?" A shake of the head. An image was forming in Erica's mind, but she had to be sure. "Is it one thing, or more than one?"

Cephas raised two fingers.

"A notebook?" The giant nodded, smiling, and Erica grinned happily, grabbing at the white package and ripping the paper off of it. The box was cardboard, and she tore it open easily enough, to reveal a somewhat large, solid-spine book with a blank, blue cover that matched the color of her eyes. As she took the book out of the box, running her fingers across its smooth, wood cover, a pencil rolled across the cardboard bottom. Taking it out as well, she turned her attention to the next box. "Red," she said simply. "Personal use?"

Cephas nodded.

"Metal?"

A nod. "How did you guess that to quickly?"

"Rust," Erica said dismissively. "Is it something I've used before?"

"No," Cephas said. He grinned. "I'm sure you'll know what it is, though."

"Is it practical, or decorative?" Two fingers from the giant; decorative. "Do I wear it, or does it sit around?" One finger. Erica paused, shifting slightly on the bed, her eyes never leaving Cephas. "A necklace?"

Cephas nodded, explaining as the girl opened the box and took out a simple, silver chain necklace. "As an adult, it's expected that you start wearing jewelery of sorts. I figure, a necklace is a good start."

"It's beautiful," Erica said softly, gazing at the chains as the flames of the candles reflected on the polished metal.

"Ausra picked it out."

Erica raised her head and smiled. "I'll be sure to thank her," she said, unclasping the chain and putting it around her neck. When she had reattached the clasp, she turned her attention to the next box. "Green."

"It's exactly what you're expecting."

"Jewelery?" Cephas nodded. "Well, that's no fun. What kind of jewelery?" When the giant winked at her, she smiled. "So I do get to take a guess."

"Of course you do."

"A ring?" The giant nodded. Inside the box, Erica found a ring of emerald bordered on both sides by strips of silver less than a third the thickness of the precious stone. "Are all these jewelery?" she asked.

Cephas shook his head and leaned his hand on the table that held the candles. "Now would I really do that? That would take all the fun out of this."

"So, black is next." Erica frowned in thought. "A tool?" The giant shook his head, smirking. "A decoration?" Again, no. She spent a long few moments deep in her thought, and finally sighed and shrugged. "What then, clothing?"

Cephas nodded.

"Really?" Erica was stunned. "What? A shirt?" No. "Pants?" Again, no. "Underwear?" Cephas shook his head, his smile growing. "Socks?" No.

"You're going to have to open it and find out," Cephas said finally. "I don't think you've ever worn one of these."

Frowning in her confusion, Erica opened the box and pulled out a bowl-shaped piece of cotton, attached to which was what resembled a bird's bill. "What is it?"

"A hat," Cephas said, and explained how to wear it. He pulled a mirror out from his right pants pocket and handed it to Erica, so she could see herself in it.

"I like it," she said simply. "Thanks."

Cephas smiled. "Three to go."

The next package, the smallest of the seven, was a pale tan or peach; it was the color of her skin. "Clothing?" Cephas nodded. "A shirt?"

"Yes and no."

"I wear it like a shirt?"

"Yes. And you've seen this before, but haven't ever worn it."

An image popped into Erica's head, something she had seen giants wearing before, over their shirts. "I don't know what it's called, but..." She explained it to Cephas.

"Good!" he said, clapping his hands together. "It's called a jacket. It keeps you warm in cool weather."

The jacket was a dull, black leather one that was slightly big on her. "What's this symbol on the arm?" Erica asked, pointing to a cross-like black symbol inscribed in a white circle.

"It was a Nazi jacket," Cephas said, taking a small switchblade from his pocket and tugging the jacket lightly from Erica's hands. As he cut off the swastika, he explained, "When the village got attacked, a few of my friends managed to sneak into their camp and steal some of their supplies. This jacket was too small for any of the survivors, but we kept it anyway." He handed the swastika-free jacket back to Erica. "That symbol was the Nazi symbol."

"I saw it before..."

"On the walls of the caves, I know." Cephas shook his head. "They carved it everywhere into the rock, we're still finding more."

Seeing that the memories of the Nazis affected the giant more than she had seen anything else affect him, Erica stood, walked over to Cephas, and hugged him. "Are you up for the last two presents?"

After a pause, the giant nodded. "Yes, sorry," he said.

"Don't be." She turned to the boxes. "Blue and gold." She smiled. "The blue is another stone, right?"

"Of course," Cephas said, grinning. "Just like every year."

Erica took the blue present and placed it, unopened, on the floor. "That leaves gold."

"Yes it does."

"Is it clothing?" Cephas shook his head, focusing on the game of guessing as he tried to put the memories of the Nazis behind him. "A tool?" Again, no. "A decoration?"

The giant smirked. "Shake the box, that might give you a hint."

Erica obliged and, hearing nothing, grew confused. "There's nothing inside?"

"Open it."

Inside the box, Erica found a small piece of paper, on which was written, "The birthday present of your dreams will be revealed tonight at dinner."

"So what is it?"

"I won't tell you, even if you guess it."

Erica frowned and put the paper back in the box. She fingered the necklace that hung around her neck and sighed. "Oh, well. This was fun." She stood and tilted her head to the side. "What about the pictures?"

Cephas smiled. "I have something better," he said, standing. "We're going outside."

-/-/-

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