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_Depression -> Author's Fantasy (6/26/2008 17:41:32)

Author's Fantasy

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"Have you ever felt the story you were writing come alive? Did the ink from your pen, the pixels on the screen transform the simple letters into a whole new world?" Ryan wrote the quote on a Post-It note, like he did so many other quotes like this one. His wall was covered in such Post-It notes, livening up the dull gray paint with vibrant neon oranges, pinks, greens, and yellows. He sighed and let his head drop in failure, crumpling up yet another page of yet another rejected story. The small trash can to the right of his desk overflowed with looseleaf balls, the fruitless attempt of a mystery story. The quote freshly posted on his wall floated into his mind, "...a whole new world."

That was it, Ryan thought. A new world. A new sheet of looseleaf paper sat in front of him, blank and ready to let his simple ballpoint pen make it come alive. A moment to think about what he would write, and a spark of inspiration to ignite his wrist muscle to move. Pen hit paper, and almost without comprehending what was happening, the first lines fell onto the white paper.

Emotion feels so dull right after the battle ends, and that moment of blissful apathy gave Breeze such a rush. She was addicted to the indifference toward anything, anyone, that could only be felt after the last of her enemies fell to the ground, their lifeless corpses slipping off her blade...

"Breeze," Ryan mused, closing his eyes as he imagined what she looked like. "Silky white hair, flowing to her elbows so gently, so beautifully. Soft green eyes on her soft face, her delicate lips smiling," he muttered, finding it easier to remember the character's description if he vocalized it. "Her body - so beautiful - modest but not in the least bit underdeveloped. Those blue fingernails matching her eyes perfectly, her clothes the color of her lips. And the sleek rapier, white hilt and golden blade in a silver sheath studded with a single emerald and a single sapphire gemstone, neither bigger than five inches." He smiled gently as he opened his eyes. "She's perfect."

\End Prologue

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_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/26/2008 17:42:35)

Chapter 1-- "Chapter 1"

"Wake him up yourself!" came an exasperated voice from the hallway, rousing Ryan none too softly. He sighed as he listened to his parents arguing again. His mother, the one who's voice had awoken him, angry at his father. Ryan knew she had good reason to be. He may only be sixteen, but he had been able to deduce the problems his parents were having since they began. His dad, working ridiculously late and yet never seeming to get much overtime pay. His mom, attempting to keep her two jobs and still be able to take care of her debilitating father.

"I'm awake," Ryan shouted at the top of his lungs, praying it would stop the fighting, if only long enough for him to get out of the house. He hastily closed his binder of looseleaf paper and shoved it unceremoniously into a simple, navy blue messenger bag he slung around his neck. Throwing on his sneakers and checking his hair for signs of bedhead, the sixteen-year-old grabbed his cell phone and rushed from his room. Without stopping to talk to his parents, Ryan threw open the front door and strolled briskly down the five-yard front walk. His mom stopped in the doorframe as he turned right down the block, escaping his battlefield of a home.

"Yo! What up, Berys?" Ryan's friend called from down the block. Ryan Aberysthye shrugged and slowed his quick pace as he neared the second boy. "Parents at it again?" the friend asked. Ryan nodded silently, and the boy patted him on the back.

"Forget that, Greg, I have an amazing new story in the works," he said, opening the bag strapped over his shoulder and pulling out the binder. "I'll buy breakfast if you read it."

"You'd better," Greg said, throwing his arm around Ryan's shoulder and walking with him. "No offense, man, but you seriously need to give up on that 'Carmen San Diego' ripoff."

Ryan nodded eagerly. "Believe me, I did, as soon as I wrote the first line of this," he said, waving the binder in Greg's face.

"Does 'this' have a title?" the friend asked.

"I call it... 'Apathy'," Ryan said, the name jumping into his mind in the same way the words had last night. "Just wait. You'll see."

Greg laughed lightly as the two stopped at the corner. "Let's hope so." The two crossed the street and entered into the Dunkin Donuts, the bell above the entrance tinkling as Greg walked straight to the counter. "I'll take a plain bagel with cream cheese, a strawberry frosted donut, and... a bottle of Diet Pepsi." He looked to Ryan. "You getting anything?"

"A discount, I hope," he answered sarcastically. "I'll have a plain bagel with cream cheese and a second diet coke." The cashier nodded and rang up the sale. The price of '$17.40' appeared on the small black screen facing Ryan. He grudgingly pulled a twenty from his pocket and paid as Greg sat at the nearest table. With a sigh, Ryan got his change and turned to his friend. "I paid," he said, and plopped the binder onto the table. "Now read."

Greg ruffled Ryan's thick black hair, just to annoy him, and chuckled as Ryan snapped his head away quickly. "All right, I'll read it. I did promise."

Ryan turned back to the counter and collected the food, giving the cashier a quick smile before seating himself across from Greg. He saw his friend slowly read the opening line, and watched the boy's eyes grow wide as he continued reading. Ryan opened his bottle of coke, alerting Greg to the presence of food, and he raised his head in a state of shock. "So? Is it that bad?" Ryan asked anxiously.

"Who are you, and what did you do with my friend?"

The author raised an eyebrow. "That good?"

Greg opened his own bottle of soda. "Yes. That good."

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_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/26/2008 17:45:38)

Chapter 2-- "Fantasy, Reality, and Back Again"

"I'm still not convinced you wrote this whole thing, Ryan," Greg said, rereading Chapter One for the third time. "I mean, I can tell you came up with the characters, but still..."

Ryan sighed, setting his second bottle of soda back on the tray. "Greg, I know I was getting desperate for a good story, but I would never steal another author's idea." His friend nodded distantly, picturing the character of Breeze chasing her opponent. "Greg? Are you even listening?" Ryan asked, poking his friend's forehead in annoyance.

With a start, Greg ripped his eyes from the page and stared at Ryan, his dirty blonde hair partially obscuring his view as it fell lightly over his face. "You wouldn't steal another author's work. I know, I know." He shrugged and sat back in his chair, brushing the hair from his eyes. "What I don't understand is how you just suddenly got better," Greg continued. "It's just... Yesterday, you showed me a page where the best sentence was, 'The man, nearly two meters tall, dropped from the balcony and onto his gray getaway car.' Now your worst sentence puts that one to shame. Look at this," he pointed to a line as he recited it, "Breeze reeled from the surprise strike, falling back into a defensive stance as the criminal turned to run. Her breathing calmed and she shot after him, easily vaulting the pile of debris her victim had chosen to run around. The hiss of steel brought a smile to her face as the hoodied vandal stopped short. Turning to face the teen, Breeze pointed her blade at his throat. 'You're lucky the agency wants you alive,' she said, and his eyes flew open, wide with fear."

Ryan found himself smiling, his eyes closed, letting the picture fill the darkness that was the inside of his eyelids. The maze created by the collapsed apartment complex Breeze was chasing the boy through, cut off from the rest of the town by a seven-foot tall construction barrier. The overcast skies causing heavy shadows to fall across the hazardous labyrinth of the build site. "What about it?" he asked wistfully, still in his imagination.

"I love it," Greg said simply, and Ryan's eyes opened, unsure of the sincerity of his friend's statement. "I really do. But, I can't get over the fact that over the course of ten hours you at least tripled your writing abilities."

"I can't tell you how it happened. I don't even know."

Greg frowned slightly, thinking to himself. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and flipped to a blank sheet of paper. "Write something. Anything." Ryan, somewhat confused, wrote his name. Greg rolled his eyes. "I meant write something like you would write for Apathy," he said impatiently.

"Oh," Ryan said. "All right, I'll start Chapter Three." He flipped back to the last page of Chapter Two and read the last paragraph, orienting himself as he switched to his lucky black pen. The author gave himself a moment to plan out what he wanted to write, and brought his pen to the paper. The ink slowly formed the next installment in Breeze's story, the lines seeming to come alive in the boy's head as he wrote furiously to keep up. Greg watched passively as his friend finished one side of the sheet of looseleaf and, without breaking rhythm, flipped to the other side, his penhand never resting. Two full pages later, Ryan lifted his pen from the paper and clicked it closed. "Done," he said simply.

Greg noticed the ink on Ryan's pinky finger and pointed to it as he said, "Here, I'll read the story while you wash that off."

The author laughed lightly. "Enjoy," he said.

"If it's anything like the first two chapters, then don't worry." Ryan chuckled again at his friend's comment, and walked off to the bathroom in the back of the Dunkin' Donuts. Greg shook his head, smiling, and flipped back to the beginning of Chapter Three. "'Loss' huh?" he mused, the chapter's title catching him slightly off guard. "Okay then."

Ryan came back to the table and found a twenty dollar bill lying on his seat. Turning to Greg he asked, "What's with the cash?"

"You paid for breakfast, I paid for the entertainment," the boy answered calmly, and he stood, closing the binder. "I have to say, the story is great. I mean, I'm no real expert, and I don't even write-"

"You write poetry, that counts," Ryan inserted.

"-but, this is probably the greatest thing I've ever read." Greg handed the binder back to Ryan. "Don't give up on this one, you hear me?"

Ryan nodded, smiling. "See ya later, Greg." The two left the Dunkin' Donuts and turned in opposite directions, Greg to the left and Ryan to the right.

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Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 0:17:30)

Chapter 3-- "Real Estate"

Ryan strolled home slowly, taking some time to fully absorb the world around him. A homeless man sitting near the old barber shop caught the boy's attention, and in his good mood Ryan dropped the twenty dollar bill Greg had given him into the man's collection cup. The man had smiled at him, tears coming to his eyes. Ryan tried to remember other times he had seen the man. Once, during the winter before, the homeless man had been kicked out of the local cafe and into the driving snow. Another tme, Ryan had seen a police officer ordering the man to move from under the supermarket's canopy, where he had been trying to dodge the unrelenting sun. And both times, no one had come to his side.

Ryan stopped walking and turned back to the weary man and saw that he was crying freely over his nearly empty cup. Without hesitation, the boy went back to the man and took another thirty dollars from his pocket. "This," he said softly, pressing the money into the man's grimy hand, "is for every time someone hurt you." The homeless man wept silently, a shaky smile covering his face from ear to ear. "I only hope it's enough."

Ryan found his entire neighborhood had a new light to it. The streets, which he had once thought of as clean, almost new, he saw were covered in cracks and potholes. The roofs of the houses varied in color enough to be unique, making each house different even though the design was the same. Birds flew overhead, bright blues and soft browns, playing games in the air while people simply walked on, unaware. The shadows on the ground, the grass growing from cracks in the sidewalk, it all gained a new sense of being for Ryan. "Is this what it feels like?" he asked himself, the birds, the shadows. "What it feels like to really understand where I am? Is this what it feels like to see everything?"

A blue-gray pickup rolled to a stop next to Ryan, the driver rolling down her window. "Excuse me," she called, getting the boy's attention. He turned to her and found that she looked familiar. Recognizable even though he knew he had never seen her before. "Do you know how to get to... Turner Street?" she asked, her light blue eyes searching him for an answer.

"Y-yeah," he answered weakly, finding it hard to concentrate as he stared at her face, a sense that he had seen her short, crimson hair before. "Take a left at the next block, and another left at the Stop sign. After that, it's only two blocks straight."

"You know this place well, huh?" the young lady said conversationally, smiling lightly.

"I live on Turner Street," Ryan answered simply. Her smile had completely captured his attention. He heard her laugh, light as a butterfly in the air. "Do... do I know you?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't think so," the lady responded. "I only got here today. I'm from New Jersey, so unless you were in Trenton in the last nineteen years..." Ryan shook his head. "Well, I've never been here on Long Island before."

Ryan shrugged and said, "No, I just thought you looked familiar. Probably just my mind playing tricks on me."

"Well, see you around, uhh-"

"Ryan."

"-Ryan. See you around, Ryan."

Suddenly, an idea popped into the boy's head. "Wait," he said as the lady started her car. "I never got your name."

Again she laughed. "Well, I think you're a little young for me, Ryan. But my name's Aria. Like the opera solo."

"Aria..." he said slowly, and she nodded.

"Well, until next time," Aria said, and drove off.

"Aria?" Ryan closed his eyes and shook his head as the pickup's engine died away. "No, it can't be..." He reached into his messenger bag and flipped to the end of Chapter Two. His eyes went wide. "It can't..." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

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Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 0:18:47)

Chapter 4-- "Aria"

"Ryan, bud, you better have a good reason to be calling. If my boss finds me..." Greg left the sentence hang.

"No, Greg, you don't understand," Ryan said, excitement filling his voice. "This may explain why Apathy is so good."

There was a pause. "You have my attention."

Ryan sighed in relief, and regripped the payphone as he pulled out the binder from his bag. "Listen, Greg. You remember the end of Chapter Two? With Aria?"

"Yeah, the girl who you said scouts the next mark before Breeze goes after them." There was a rustling from Ryan's side. "Wait, what about it? What does a character from your story have to do with anything?"

"Greg, I met Aria." Silence from the other side confused Ryan. "Greg? You there?"

"Ryan, I told you not to call me when I'm at work unless it's really important. You're so lucky my boss didn't catch me." Greg hung up without another word, leaving his friend stunned in a phone booth.

Slowly, Ryan hung up the phone and opened the glass door to his right. With a dejected sigh, he stuffed the binder back in his bag and closed the flap. "Great," he said glumly. "Now I have to prove to Greg that she's real." He began walking, and found himself at his house a minute later. "Even better, my sister's visiting from her stupid college," he sighed, noticing the red Ford Festiva parked in the driveway, an Ohio State bumper sticker the car's only decoration.

Suddenly the door opened, a well-built, twenty-one year old girl storming from the house. She stopped when she saw Ryan, and her frown turned into a small smile. "Hey there, little bro."

Ryan grunted his response and pushed past her in an attempt to get inside, but his sister caught the strap of his messenger bag and tugged him back toward her. "What do you want, Sarah?" he asked.

Sarah hugged the boy from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Did I lose you too?" she asked softly. "Mom and Dad already don't want me. Do you care anymore?"

Ryan turned to face her and his breath caught when he saw tears falling down her face. "You didn't lose me, Sarah," he said. "But you did leave me." He turned back to the house and stood there, unmoving. Sarah wept silently, and tentatively reached her hand out, grasping his. Ryan squeezed his sister's hand tightly and dropped his gaze to the dying grass below. "We're still cool," he said, turning back to face her.

Sarah wiped the tears from her eyes and hugged Ryan again, her long blonde hair falling over his face and tickling his nose. "Ryan, don't scare me like that."

"Sorry," he replied, patting her on the back. Then, reverting to verbal jousts, he said, "And here I was thinking you were older than me."

Sarah laughed lightly and punched his arm lightly. "I am, you little twerp."

"How am I a twerp when I'm taller than you?"

Sarah smiled both through her lips and her hazel eyes. "I base it on brain size, little bro." The two shared a laugh, and Ryan looked over his sister's shoulder at his house, eying the open door warily. Seeing his expression of unease, Sarah asked, "You wanna go to the park?"

Ryan nodded. "Anything to get away from here," he said. His sister sighed her consent and unlocked her fiery red car.

"So Ryan, what's new in town?"

"We've got a new neighbor," he answered nonchalantly, pointing to Aria's pickup three houses down. "Her name's Aria, and she looks like she's only a year or two older than you."

Sarah shot a glance at the blue-gray Chevy and nodded. "Anything else?" Ryan shook his head as he buckled his seatbelt, and Sarah eased her Festiva out of the driveway. "Well, sometimes change just doesn't come soon enough," she sighed, the siblings' parents arguing in plain view of the road.

Ryan, reaching into his navy blue bag, took out the white binder and his black pen, opening to the unfinished page sixteen of Apathy. Sarah gave the looseleaf binder a cursory glance, but held off from conversation as she brought her concentration back to the road. "It just doesn't make sense," the boy muttered under his breath, but loud enough for his sister to hear.

"What doesn't make sense?" she asked.

Ryan sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I wrote up this character into the story yesterday. And today I met that character when I was walking home from Dunkin' Donuts."

"Really?" Sarah asked, raising her eyebrow. "What character?"

"Aria." Sarah pulled into the park's car lot and parked her Festiva in the closest spot to the picnic tables, then turned to her brother with an skeptical expression on her face. "See for yourself," he said, and flipped to the first page of the story.

Sarah read through the entire fifteen-and-one-half pages of her brother's story, and with a sigh handed it back to Ryan. "Bro, I think you might be going crazy," she said seriously.

"No," he replied quickly. "I'm not." He pointed to a blue-gray pickup as it parked a good twenty spots to his left. From the car stepped Aria, her hair swaying slightly in the warm summer breeze. Sarah gasped. "I told you," he said.

"Ryan, are you sure you only saw Aria today?" He nodded. "And you're sure you wrote this yesterday?" Again, Ryan nodded. Sarah shook her head, unbelieving. "Wow... that's just-"

"Yeah," Ryan said, understanding his sister's shock. "I know what you mean."

Sarah opened her door and unbuckled her seatbelt. "Come on," she said. "Let's go say hi."

Ryan gaped at his sister as she closed her door and turned to Aria. "No, wait!" he called, and quickly exited the car after her. "Sarah, we can't. Do you know how creepy she'll think this is?" His sister shrugged. Frustrated, he grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. "If she is the Aria from my story," he said, "then what do you think will happen to us?"

Sarah smiled. "I have no clue," she said, giddy and anxious. "But I can't wait to find out."

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Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 0:23:49)

Chapter 5-- "Warning: You Have Mail"

"Hey, Aria!" Sarah called, striding purposefully across the small, grassy field to where Aria was exiting her pickup. The crimson-haired girl turned, confused, to Sarah.

"Do I know you?" Aria asked.

"My little brother Ryan knows you," Sarah answered, coming to a stop in front of Aria. "He's the kid you asked for directions from."

Aria nodded slowly, and noticed Ryan walking cautiously toward her. "Is there something wrong?" she asked, confused by this sudden intrusion.

"Sarah..." Ryan began warily, holding his binder tight to his chest. "Sarah, I don't think you should-"

Sarah shushed her brother with a wave of her hand and smiled at Aria. "There's nothing wrong, Aria, except for my brother's story." She tugged the binder roughly from Ryan, and opened it up to the description of Aria. "He wrote this yesterday night."

Aria began to read the description, her eyes growing wide. "Th- that's impossible," she said quietly, and glanced to the Aberysthye siblings. "Are you sure he didn't write this this morning?"

Ryan nodded. "That's why I thought you were so familiar," he said. Aria nodded, understanding.

"I think you should read the whole story, just to be sure you're the only real person Ryan's written up."

Aria nodded again and took the binder, flipping it back to the first page. Suddenly, she froze, her eyes resting on the word "Breeze," and she slowly looked up at Ryan. "Ryan," she started, "in this story, what do I do?"

The boy mumbled incoherently, and his sister sighed with impatience. "You scout the next target," Sarah said simply, and Aria felt a pulse of adrenaline rush through her. A breeze rustled the grass in the empty field, and the crimson-haired girl took a small step back. "Aria?" Sarah asked.

"How...?" Aria said, shocked.

Ryan stepped forward tentatively, reaching his hand out to the confused girl. "Aria, are you okay?" The boy touched the binder lightly, trying to take it back, but Aria pulled it away, backing up until her back was against the pickup. Before either Ryan or Sarah could move, she snapped the binder shut and threw it into the back of her car, throwing open the driver side door at the same time. "My binder!" Ryan yelled, rushing to the flatbed of the pickup as Aria started the engine. Desperate, he threw himself onto the hard flatbed, and he grabbed the binder as the pickup lurched forward.

"Ryan!" Sarah cried from the edge of the sidewalk, forced to watch as her brother was driven away in the blue-gray pickup. She hurried back to her own Festiva, fumbling with her keys in her rush, and in frustration stalled the engine twice before finally getting onto the road.

In the back of the pickup, Ryan bounced around the flatbed, hitting into the sides with his back. As Aria turned onto the highway, the boy was thrown into one of the walls headfirst. As he blacked out, he gripped his binder tightly to his chest.
_+__

Ryan came to slowly, and found himself still in the flatbed of the pickup, though the sky outside was dark. As he reached up to clutch his throbbing head, the boy realized that he was no longer holding his binder. Sitting up quickly, he used the dim moonlight to look for the white binder. At the same time he saw his binder sitting in the corner of the flatbed, the pickup screeched to a stop, throwing the boy again into the side. He grunted in pain as he reached out for the binder, and gripped it weakly as the driver's door opened.

Aria rushed over to the back of her pickup, her eyes growing wide when she saw the boy lying in the flatbed. The back of his head was caked with dried blood, and bloody stains covered his shirt. "Ryan!" she yelled, surprised. He slowly turned his head in her direction as he dragged his binder over to him. "How did you-"

"Hi, Aria," Ryan interrupted, his voice weak.

Aria froze, turning around slowly. A dark figure stepped out from the dark treeline bordering the road, a thin sword pointed at the girl's head. The moonlight illuminated the figure slightly, revealing a muscular young man. He lowered his blade as he walked slowly to Aria, a smile growing on his face. "It's just you," he said, relieved. "Thank god it's just you."

In the dim light, it took Aria a minute to notice the man's bloody left arm hanging limply at his side. "Blaine, what happened?" she asked worriedly.

"I got caught," he said simply. "The Aspect bosses tried to kill me right there, but I got out."

Ryan sat up, groaning, and Blaine raised an eyebrow. Aria, seeing the look on the man's face, sighed. "We've got a problem," she said.

"Lemme guess. Your cover got blown and this wimp got in the way?" Blaine laughed lightly. "Either that, or you just decided to kidnap him."

"Neither," Aria said grimly. "I met him today. The only problem is, this kid's writing a story."

Blaine blinked. "And...?"

"It's about us." The man shook his head in disbelief. Aria, impatient, grabbed Ryan's binder and shoved it at Blaine. "Read the first five lines."

Ryan reached out, his hand brushing against Aria's arm lightly. "Gimme back my binder," he said softly, but the girl pushed him away. "It's my binder," he said weakly, and slipped into unconsciousness.

Blaine looked up from the binder, gazing steadily at Aria. "This is really the kid's writing?" She nodded. With a low whistle, the man handed the story back to Aria and said, "Well, Breeze is gonna want to meet him."

The girl nodded grimly. "I don't know what'll happen to him, but we don't have the authority to do anything about it. Even Ryan knew that, and he has no clue what our codes are."

Blaine chuckled as he walked around the pickup, opening the passenger side door. "You never know," he started. "She might want the kid to keep writing." Aria rolled her eyes and got into the pickup, starting the engine as Blaine put on his seatbelt. "That is, if he even wakes up."

"He might be luckier if he doesn't," Aria replied, and slowly drove off.

_+__

Sarah had been driving all night, speeding down the highway in pursuit of Aria's pickup. Tears streaming down her face, she picked up her cell phone and called her parents. "Mom, I know you don't care about me," she began, her voice cracking, "but if you care about Ryan, you need to call the police."

"What?!" the mother yelled into the phone, her voice a mix of anger and shock.

"Ryan's .... Ryan was kidnapped." There was a click as the line went dead, and Sarah pulled onto the shoulder of the road, sobbing heavily. "And it's all my fault," she whispered softly into the receiver. "I'll find you, Ryan. I swear I will find you."

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Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 0:25:08)

Chapter 6-- "Headquarters"

It was pitch black when Ryan woke, lying in a fetal position on a hard, cold floor. He tried to stretch his stiff back, but found the walls surrounding him to be too close for him to make any adjustment. Tentatively he reached up, and to his relief the ceiling was high enough for him to sit up straight. As he worked on cracking his back, his right hand felt a small indent in the wall to his right. Ryan tugged lightly, and the right wall slid open silently. The boy leaned down to look out, but the door snapped shut suddenly, causing him to reel back. His head hit one of the walls, reminding him of the large bumps and bruises he had obtained in the back of the pickup. Hissing in pain, Ryan slammed his fist against the door. "What did I do?" he shouted to no one. "Agh... my head."

Light flooded the small cell as an overhead lamp flickered on, and after his eyes adjusted Ryan surveyed his small prison. The walls were made of smooth red stones, layered like bricks. The ceiling could have been any highly polished surface, because the boy was unable to see anything past the unusually bright light pointed down at him, and feeling the solid material did little to rule out anything. The floor Ryan sat on was marble, he was sure, having seen enough marble sculptures to recognize the stone by sight. The door on the right wall was a dull, dark steel sheet that slid into the wall, and there was a single latch to lock it. "Why is the damn lock on the inside if this is a jail cell?" Ryan asked himself, his voice still angry from the door closing on him so suddenly.

"Keep your voice down," a female voice warned from the outside, which Ryan responded to by kicking the door with his right foot. He heard footsteps, like those of high heels, coming toward his cell, and with a mix of desperation and anger he kicked the door a second time, attempting to make as loud a sound as possible. "Oh, crud," the voice on the other side said with a small groan, and the footsteps stopped short.

"Aria," a new, easily female voice began, "I wonder what you chose to hide in the secret compartment now?" A pause, and then the door slid open fully, disappearing into the wall to create a small crawlspace. "Ahh, you went from hiding your precious heirlooms to a boy? What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Ryan carefully exited the small cell, sighing with relief as he stood and stretched his stiff back and legs. Aria put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him, and stepped toward the center of the room. When the boy saw who had been talking to Aria a moment ago, his breath caught. Standing in the center of the room, her arms folded lightly across her chest, was the one person Ryan had hoped was real.

Breeze grinned slyly, sizing the boy up and down as Aria chose to take her time in reaching her. The white-haired girl slowly brushed some strands of hair from her face and tilted her head innocently, locking gazes with the boy. Her sharp gaze noticed his awed look, his reddening cheeks, and she turned to Aria quickly, grabbing the crimson-haired girl's shirt and pulling her in close. Aria's eyes grew wide, afraid of what Breeze planned to do, but released her held breath as the green-eyed girl whispered into her ear, "This boy seems less surprised by my presence as he does amazed. What stories have you been telling him about me?"

"N-nothing, Mistress Breeze. I never mentioned you to that little miscreant."

Breeze laughed lightly, her voice reminding Ryan of a birdsong, and his blush deepened. He tore his gaze away from her soft face, focusing his attention on the well-buffed marble floor he stood on. He saw his clothes, and saw the grease and bloodstains covering them, and his heart dropped. 'So much for good first impressions,' he thought glumly. 'Not only does she see me for the first time in that stupid cell, but I look like I just finished rolling around in the back of a pickup.' He sighed. 'That's right. I did.'

The boy was so lost in his thoughts that he never noticed the two girls walk over to him, but he quickly reoriented himself when Breeze lifted his chin so their gazes met again. She was standing mere inches from him, and he felt his heart stop for a moment. Ryan staggered back a step, but was stopped by Aria's quick movement, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him back. "Mistress Breeze, this is Ryan. Ryan Aber-... Abereth..."

"Aberysthye," the boy breathed, his voice just above a whisper. "I- I can't believe..."

Breeze turned to Aria, again crossing her arms across her chest. "Are you sure you never told him anything of me?" Aria nodded silently, regripping the binder as she tried to slide it out of Breeze's sight. "Hmm..." She turned back to the boy. "So, Ryan. How do you know of me?"

Ryan caught a glimpse of Aria mouthing "don't tell her", and he swallowed his words. "Umm... I saw you before."

"Where?" Breeze smiled, sending the boy's mind reeling, and she leaned in to him, so close that he could feel her breathing on his cheek. "Tell me, and I will give you anything you want, within reason."

Aria froze, seeing the boy's face and knowing he had fallen for the bribe. She took a small step back, still trying to get Ryan's attention. He seemed oblivious to anything she did, however, his eyes stuck on Breeze's hand, resting on his shoulder encouragingly. "I wrote about you," he said softly, his face growing even redder. "In my binder, you're in there."

The girl's smile grew slightly, and Breeze whirled on the spot, her rapier flashing in the light and resting with the point of the golden blade resting on the collar of Aria's shirt. "You didn't think you actually hid that from me, did you Aria?" She took a step toward the crimson-haired girl, extending a hand. "Give it here."

Aria gulped, slowly bringing the binder out from behind her back and placing it in Breeze's hand. "Mistress, I-"

"You need to learn sometime, Aria. Now, the only question is whether I will pardon your actions again," the rapier-wielder cut in, emphasizing the 'again' as she sheathed her blade. "For now, come here next to the boy."

Aria obeyed silently, quickly moving to Ryan's left as Breeze opened the binder. She read the first line curiously, and stopped. Ryan glanced to Aria nervously, but the girl avoided his searching gaze, and when he looked back to Breeze he saw her smiling gently. She finished the first page and lifted her head to meet the boy's gaze. Anxiety getting the better of him, Ryan started, "Breeze, I can-"

She raised her hand simply, silencing him. "Tell me, Ryan. How did you write this?"

"I-" Ryan struggled to word the feeling, and with a sigh he said, "I stopped trying to write, and just wrote."

Breeze gave him a skeptical look. "You are contradicting yourself, boy. I suggest you do not."

"But, I can't describe it. It's like, when you get into the heat of a battle and the sound around you dies away. When all you can see are the enemies around you, morphing in your mind until they all look like monsters, ugly and weak, waiting for you to taste them with your sword. That's what it's like."

"No one," Breeze said darkly, glaring at Ryan, "knows about me and my fighting. How do you, a boy who knows so little about reality, claim to know?"

Ryan stepped back in fear, eying the girl's sword hand warily. "I don't know it, I feel it," he said quickly. "It's- it's like my imagination is telling me what happens when you fight."

"Your imagination?" she asked, unbelieving. "Are you trying to get yourself killed, boy? You write this about me and claim it is your imagination that causes it? That is treason." A door behind Breeze opened silently and a young boy, his green cape covering a blue shirt and tan shorts, stepped into the room. Without turning around, Breeze called, "Ewan, I am busy here. I will meet you in the courtyard when I have finished."

The boy left just as silently, and Aria stepped forward cautiously. "Mistress Breeze, you can't punish this boy for being ignorant, or for claiming to know something. He had already written about us, describing us almost to the letter without ever knowing of us, let alone ever seeing me or you. He believed he knew everything about the two of us, and possibly about the rest as well."

"He knew of my attitude," Breeze answered calmly, not taking her eyes off of Ryan. "He knew my name, how I treated people, and what I would do as punishment. Why would he be so cocky as he is?"

"Mistress, he doesn't know everything about you," Aria said, taking another step toward Breeze. "He could not possibly know your authority-"

Breeze handed the binder to the crimson-haired girl and her smile grew. "Look where he describes me, in the seventh line." Ryan tried to think of what the Breeze was referring to. He had rewritten that line three times, eventually cutting out a certain phrase because it sounded wrong at that point. His eyes grew wide, and Breeze saw. She said to Aria softly, "Do you see the words he erased? The indent in the paper below where it says, 'The rapier her father gave her was...'? Yes, you do. Read them to us, please."

Aria gulped back her shock as she read loudly, "With her royal blood..."

"How could he not know my authority, if he already knows I am a princess?"

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 0:34:25)

Chapter 7-- "Princess Breeze"

Breeze smiled softly as she said, "How could he not know my authority, if he already knows I am a princess?" She drew her rapier silently from its sheath, pointing the golden blade at Ryan. "Treason is punishable by death. Now, I will give you a chance to defend yourself. You have one minute to convince me not to run you through with my blade."

The boy's mind raced as the princess lowered her rapier. She tapped her finger rhythmically against the sword's hilt, counting each second. 'This is not good,' Ryan thought. 'She is definitely going to kill me if I can't-' He paused, having come up with a way to keep his life. "Bree-"

Breeze stopped the boy, pointing the blade again at his throat. "You will not address me as Breeze, boy."

"I'm sorry. Princess Breeze, you said you would give me anything I wanted if I told you how I wrote my story."

The princess let her rapier drop a few inches. "And...?"

Ryan sighed, relieved. "I ask that you please allow me to join you and Aria."

"What are you asking?" Breeze asked incredulously. The point of her blade touched the marble floor as its wielder laughed, and even when her beautiful voice died away the rapier remained in that position. "So tell me, boy. What do you know of what Aria and I do that you wish to join?"

"Princess-" Ryan started, but was again cut off by Breeze.

"Honestly, boy. If you had been listening to Aria earlier, you would know not to call me Princess. I much prefer Mistress."

Ryan nodded. "Of course. I apologize. But, Mistress Breeze, I know that you are the princess of a lost land, Aethon. I wish to stand by your side as you work to find your way home."

Aria began to laugh now, and tried to say something in between laughs. Finally she calmed down and said, "Princess of a lost land? Find your way home?" she repeated, each phrase causing her to chuckle again. "Oh, man. You have no idea."

"Enough, Aria," Breeze said calmly, and the crimson-haired girl wiped a tear from her eye as she calmed herself down. "You forget, you are still trying to win your way out of punishment, for attempting to hide the binder from me. As for the boy," she continued, catching Ryan's gaze, "I think he has just saved his life."

"Thank you, Mistress Breeze," the boy said gratefully, smiling wide.

Breeze returned the smile with a nod, but when she turned to Aria her face was grave. "Did I not tell you that attempting to keep something from me is nearly as treasonous as attempting to overthrow my authority? I should think you would have learned. However, you did not, and I will no longer hold back from punishing you." The princess raised her rapier to Aria's heart as she said, softly, "Aria, I hate to do this, but I will give you a choice. Death by my blade, right here, or exile. You will be banished from here forever, neither an ally nor an enemy unless you should choose to attempt revenge."

Ryan watched as Aria's knees, weak from the weight of the princess' words, collapsed under the girl. She sat there for a moment, stunned, and soon tears came to her eyes, silently streaming down her cheeks. Breeze turned away, unable to watch the girl cry, and not wanting her to leave. Suddenly, Ryan realized he could save Aria, and at the same time Breeze turned to the boy, hopeful. "Umm... Mistress Breeze?" he asked slowly.

"Yes?" she replied, almost eager to hear Aria be relieved of her punishment.

"Mistress Breeze, when I gave you my wish, to stay here, I asked to join both you and Aria..."

A genuine smile formed on the princess' face, her eyes tearing up in joy. "I suppose you have a point," she said, her joy breaking through the serious attitude she was attempting to portray. "Aria, I have to again forgive you. But please, do not give me another reason to punish you. Please, Aria."

"Yes, Mistress," Aria said, crying now of happiness than of sorrow. She turned to Ryan, staggering to her feet. "And thank you, Ryan, for risking yourself to save me." She wrapped her arms around the boy, hugging him tightly and crying freely onto his shoulder.

"Aria, your clothes will get dirty like that," Breeze said, regaining her composure. "Go and get changed. And bring Ry- the boy with you. Show him around and give him a room. Then bring him to the tailor, to get him out of those rags." She turned to Ryan. "You know almost nothing of what is really happening here, boy. Do not mistakenly assume something about any of us."

Ryan nodded solemnly and turned to follow Aria, who was striding briskly to the door the young boy had entered through earlier. Catching up to her, he asked, "Aria, why won't Breeze call me by my name?"

Aria stopped, whirling on the spot and jabbing the boy's chest with a finger. "Just because she isn't around does not give you the right to disrespect the princess. Never forget that, or I will kill you, no matter how much of my life I owe you." Ryan raised his hands in a gesture of subordinance. "Now, as to your question, that's the princess for you. She won't call you by name unless you are close to her."

The boy sighed. "All right then, I guess I shouldn't have expected to be on a first-name basis with the princess the day I met her."

"Oh, no. Please don't tell me you-" Aria left the statement hanging, waiting for Ryan's reaction. His face reddened significantly, and the girl rolled her eyes as she opened a door to her left. "I don't believe it."

"What?" Ryan asked cautiously as the two entered the room. "Don't believe what?"

Aria closed the door behind him slowly, and walked to the closet. "This is my room," she said, trying to change the topic.

"Aria, what?"

The girl opened the closet door and took out a new set of clothes, much nicer than the street clothes she was wearing. The fabric of everything, from the shirt to the underwear, looked more expensive than even the finest silk. Aria laid the clothes down on a small table and began to pull her shirt off. Ryan turned away, facing the wall opposite Aria, and asked, "Really, Aria. What's so unbelievable?"

She sighed as she answered, "You have a crush on my princess. That's unbelievable."

Ryan felt himself blush a deep scarlet, and he stood quietly, unmoving facing the wall. A few minutes later he felt Aria lay a hand on his shoulder, and he slowly turned around. She smiled brightly at him, then turned and opened the door. "Where are we going now?"

"To get you a room," Aria said simply, and walked directly across the large hallway to another door. "Here you go," she said, opening the door and ushering Ryan inside. The room looked identical to Aria's, with the closet on the left wall, a plain desk next to the doorway, and a fairly large bed in the back right corner. The walls were bare, painted white, and the floor was covered with a thick tan-colored carpet.

"Wow, it's just like your room," Ryan said.

Aria gave him a light push. "I'm not into decorating anything I don't have to decorate," she answered simply, and Ryan gave her a skeptical look. "What?"

"Look at you, Aria. You say you don't decorate anything, but you look absolutely stunning in that outfit. I would call that decorating."

"I said I don't decorate what I don't have to," the girl said shyly, her face growing pink. "Stop flirting with me, or I'll tell the princess you're cheating on her." Ryan gaped at her, unable to think of a comeback. She winked at him playfully and kissed him on his cheek, her soft lips sending the boy's mind spinning. "Now come on, we have to at least get to the tailor before the princess finds you cheating on her."

"What am I going to find?" came Breeze's voice from the doorway. Aria spun around, in shock, and saw the princess leaning against the doorframe, smiling at the two. "Aria, do I sense something going on between the two of you?"

"N-no, of course not Mistress Breeze," the crimson-haired girl answered. "That was-"

Breeze walked calmly over to Ryan, her arms folded across her chest. "Well, boy. Are you and Aria doing anything I should know about?" He shook his head quickly, his face beginning to redden. "I can tell you, if you do begin a relationship with Aria, you had better not break her heart. You had better not hurt her in any way, or you will be answering directly to me. And trust me, boy, I can repeal the anti-slavery decrees in a heartbeat if I want."

Ryan gulped and nodded his understanding as Aria stepped forward to speak. "Mistress Breeze, I never meant to imply any relationship with Ryan. I apologize." She gave the princess a respectful bow and turned to Ryan. "And Ryan, I did not mean to imply in any way that we were together."

Again Ryan nodded. Breeze gave the boy a final look before turning on her heels, striding purposefully from the room. When her footsteps had died away, Aria sighed and leaned against the wall. "What just happened back there?" Ryan asked, in a state of shock.

"I'm really sorry, Ryan," the girl answered, turning her gaze to her feet. "I didn't think the princess would be coming down this hallway..."

"It's okay," he said, stepping through the doorway. Aria closed the door behind the two and met him in the center of the hallway. "So, where to now?"

"The tailor," Aria said, and began walking down the hallway at a casual pace. "It's past the courtyard, so it's going to take us a little over ten minutes to get there."

The boy whistled in awe. "I never thought they made buildings that big. Other than something like a fortress, or a castle."

"And where do you think we are?" Aria asked, pausing in her disbelief. Ryan shrugged. "Ryan, we're in Castle Aethon. The princess' home." He stared at her quietly, processing what she had told him. "Oh, right," Aria remembered. "You thought Aethon was a 'lost land'. No, it isn't lost. Just... ignored by the general public."

"So, where are we? I've never heard of any kingdoms in the United States," Ryan said, as Aria started walking again. "Did you fly over to Europe or something? Or Canada?"

"Neither," the girl answered calmly. "The Royal Kingdom of Aethon includes most of what you think of as the Northeast United States. It stretches all the way to the Foron Lake, which you know as Lake Ontario, and as far North as the Quebec border. The Southernmost point is near the Southern border of Pennsylvania, where the Grood Plains meet the forest. Past there is the Kingdom of Cronois."

"Wow," Ryan said wistfully, imagining the size of the kingdom. "I never knew-"

Aria silenced the boy by raising her hand, and turned to face him as she stopped for a second time. "You never heard of our kingdom because you were never supposed to. What do you think the populous of New York would do if they realized they were living inside of the kingdom's borders?"

"They would revolt," Ryan said, realization dawning on him.

"Exactly," Aria said, nodding. "They would attack us simply because we are a threat. We do not want to be, but we are." She turned to begin walking again, but stopped and turned back, a smile growing on her face. "And since the princess granted you your request, you'd be as much in danger as I am."

Ryan gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"You asked to join us. That makes you a subject of the Aethon rule. Congratulations. You have officially bitten off more than you can chew, I guarantee it."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Every single person living in this kingdom must be able to fight in some way, to help defend the castle and the princess." She smirked, glancing at Ryan's arms. "I'm going to make a wild guess and say you have never been to any gym or fitness center." The boy nodded slowly, and Aria chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll train you myself. We'll have to start light though. How does five days a week sound to you?"

"It sounds like a damn career," he answered. "How are you going to train me? What weapon could I possibly use?"

The young boy from earlier, Ewan, rushed out of a room at that moment, and hearing Ryan's question stopped and gazed at his forehead. "You could always take up magic," he said, still staring at Ryan's forehead. "I dunno if you'll ever get to be one of the master sages, but you could always try."

Aria smiled, slightly amused. "Thank you for the suggestion, Ewan. Now go on, Mistress Breeze is probably waiting for you." She ruffled the young boy's reddish-brown hair playfully and ushered him on down the hallway.

"Magic?" Ryan asked Aria.

The girl grinned toothily, a fireball appearing in the palm of her right hand. "Why not?" she said as she let the flames die away. "I could even teach you some of my secrets."

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 0:35:39)

Chapter 8-- "Castle Grounds"

Aria led the way down the seeming endless hallway, stopping periodically whenever Ryan asked a question she could not answer of the top of her head. She had told the boy most of the general facts. Castle Aethon was located deep in a forest in upstate New York, the woods surrounding it rumored to be the only home of both wild panthers and lions in the country. "That's the biggest deterrent for anybody who actually wanted to journey into this area, the danger we've given to it. No sane person would dare travel here."

"What about an airplane or helicopter flying around? Wouldn't they see the fortress?"

The girl shook her head. "Not necessarily. The trees around here were made to grow taller magically, so the fortress isn't visible to anyone outside of a fifteen mile range, and there are no trade routes that go overhead. Really, we're quite safe here."

"But what about-"

Aria stopped Ryan with a sigh. "Listen, Ryan. This castle, this entire kingdom has been around for over four centuries. We predate the original colonists, and even the pioneer explorers were kept in the dark. I understand that you don't fully believe that the castle is hidden, but it truly is. Beyond that, if anyone were to find out they would never be able to release any knowledge of us without being ridiculed. No one would possibly believe a castle as large as the ones you can find in Europe could have existed undetected for so long. To anyone who does know of our existence, we are a myth, legendary people living in a castle that doesn't exist."

"Just answer me one thing, Aria," Ryan said seriously.

"Go on then," she replied.

"What would you do if someone got visual proof of the castle?"

The boy gazed at Aria with an unwavering, grave expression, and she tried to phrase her answer delicately. "We... would not let the information reach any media sources," she said.

"You would kill the person, is that what you mean to say?"

"No, Ryan, we would never..." her voice trailed off, the boy's eyes calling her bluff. With a sigh, she nodded and said, "Yes, Ryan, we would kill to keep Aethon secret. It is one life compared to our entire kingdom."

"How many?" he asked, his shaking voice betraying his stoic face. "How many have you killed so far?"

Aria met Ryan's gaze with fire in her eyes. "No one in the entire kingdom would commit an act of violence callously, Ryan. We only do it to protect our princess, to protect each other. Do not, ever, think any one of us is a murderer."

The boy dropped his gaze, assessing the information. "Fine," he said softly, after a moment of silence. "I don't think I'll forget it, but I won't question it." Aria nodded her approval and turned to her left, opening a set of bronze double doors. The two stepped outside and into a large garden, with the inner walls of the castle as the border. "Whoa," Ryan said, taken aback by the sudden wide expanse of foliage.

The early afternoon sun lit the courtyard, intensifying the bright air it exuded. "The royal courtyard," Aria said wistfully. "It's always so beautiful, especially when the sun highlights all the pinks and reds, and the yellows and blues, and the greens..."

Ryan glanced over to the girl and saw how her eyes shone in her joy, how her features gave her the appearance of an innocent young girl. He smiled and took a step forward, but Aria laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "What is it?" he asked softly, not wanting to disturb the girl's state of bliss.

"Close your eyes," she said. "Listen to how the wind gives a voice to the nature around you. Can you hear it?"

With a bright smile, Ryan answered, "Yes, Aria. It's the most innocent sound in our world, one of love and innocence, one of wisdom and one of beauty."

"You sound just like Breeze, the way you describe it," Aria said.

The boy gave her a light push. "I thought we weren't allowed to call her Breeze," he said, playful mocking in his voice. He strolled onto the field of bright green grass, turning when he noticed Aria not following him, and took her by the hand, leading her slowly in the direction of a small pond. The two walked quietly through the courtyard, the only sounds they heard the grass crunching beneath their feet and the birds chirping happily in the trees and the skies around them.

"For all the darkness of the world," Aria started, her voice calm and happy, "I am sincerely glad we humans have not turned nature against us." When they reached the pond a few moments later, they chose a pair of small, fairly flat boulders to sit on. They gazed out over the crystal clear water, watching the many varied fish in it swim around. Aria turned to Ryan, her eyes still glittering with joy. "Ryan, whatever happens, promise me you'll remember this place, this courtyard. Remember that no matter what hardships you'll have to face, that there is always this small remnant of what is good in the world. Promise me.

Ryan faced her, met the girl's eyes with his own. He processed what she was asking him, pushed the questions to the side. "I promise," he said. The two smiled at each other, the purity of their surroundings making all the doubt disappear from their minds.

"Help! Somebody, come quick!" Breeze's voice rang out, slicing the serenity with its shrill tone.

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 0:40:14)

Chapter 9-- "Emotion"

Ryan was on his feet and running in the direction of Breeze's shouts before he had even processed what she was yelling, Aria's speed keeping her ahead of him by a good two meters. The two crested a small hill and saw the princess kneeling at Ewan's side, pressing her hands over the part of the young boy's shirt most covered in blood. "Mistress, what happened?" Aria asked immediately as she dropped to her knees, trying to see how badly Ewan was wounded. Ryan stood a few meters from the others, stunned by the sight.

"Ewan surprised me," Breeze said, her voice distraught. "He snuck up behind me and leapt at me. I- I reacted... my instincts... I-" Aria laid a hand on the princess' shoulder to calm her, and turned to Ryan. She said something he couldn't understand, all the sound around him dulled by his shock.

"Ryan!" the Aria shouted, finally jolting the boy out of his stupor. "Go back inside and get the medics!" The boy's face was blank with ignorance, and with a grunt Aria pulled herself to her feet, pushing past him and back to the castle.

Ryan knelt near Ewan's head, gazing down at his face. The pained expression the young boy wore pulled at his heart, and unable to keep eye contact Ryan faced Breeze instead. He saw the princess breathing hard, and recognized that and the cold sweat as a panic attack. The author's little knowledge of general health emergencies told him that Breeze needed to calm down soon, or she would pass out from a lack of oxygen. Tentatively the boy began rubbing her back, hoping the attack was not so serious, but found his actions were doing little to help. He saw the princess' face begin to pale, and he grew desperate. 'Where's a damn paper bag when you need one?' he asked himself angrily.

Ryan was thinking of ways to snap Breeze out of her panic when he saw her eyes begin to flutter, and he gave up. He grabbed the girl's arm with all the strength he could muster, and with a loud shout of pain she turned to him and planted her blood-soaked right fist into the boy's stomach. His breath escaped him as he groaned in pain, and Ryan doubled over, gasping for air. Breeze gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, and quickly reaching out to help the winded boy, but instead of finding him tearing up and hurting, he was laughing. Confused by the boy's apparent humor, the princess shook him roughly. "Ryan, are you okay?" she asked worriedly.

"Yeah," he said breathlessly, "but what about Ewan?"

Breeze snapped her attention back to the wounded young boy as Aria ran back into view. "Mistress, the medics are here," she said, out of breath from her sprinting. Two middle-aged men in blue tunics crested the hill a moment later, racing toward the bloody scene. "Mistress Breeze, come on. We should go inside. You need to wash up and change," Aria said softly, but the princess shook her head, and pushed the girl away lightly.

"No, Aria, leave me here for a while." She looked up to Ryan. "And you, boy, tell me why you attacked me so."

"You were about to pass out," the boy answered her. "I didn't know how else to snap you out of it."

Aria was shocked. "You hit my princess?"

"No," Breeze said, smiling at Ryan. "The boy saved my life." She sat back and turned again to Aria. "You can go." With a curt nod, the crimson-haired girl turned and strolled briskly back to the castle doors. The princess faced Ryan, watching his breathing calm as his breath returned.

"Mistress Breeze," he said, "would you like me to leave you as well?"

The princess laughed and shook her head. "No, boy, I would rather you stay with me. I want to talk to you about the story you are writing about me." She leaned forward, taking binder out from behind her back. "I had a chance to read your seventeen pages, and have to admit, you write well."

"Th- thank you, Mistress."

"And yet, what surprises me is less the skill of the writing, but the accuracy. Were you truly there, following me and that vandal in the decrepit building he had chosen to escape through?"

Ryan shook his head. "As I said before, Mistress Breeze, I had not even known you were real. I just wrote that two days ago."

"That seems hard to believe, you writing this two days ago," the princess said. "Aria tells me you had met her six days before you met me." She noticed his shocked expression and chuckled lightly. "Does that mean Aria had you locked in that compartment for four days? My lord, she must have been worrying about my reaction for all that time."

"I- I've been here for six days? My sister will-" he started, but stopped when he saw the surprise on Breeze's face.

"You have a sibling?" she asked.

"I have an older sister," Ryan said. "She was with me when I jumped in the back of Aria's pickup after my binder."

The princess raised an eyebrow. "Aria never mentioned anything about you joining her so abruptly."

"She had gotten scared for the safety of Aethon, I guess," Ryan said. "She must have thought that by taking my binder she would be protecting you."

Breeze nodded, understanding. "But she did not know what you really believed about our kingdom, did she?" she asked the boy.

He shook his head. "Apparently not, otherwise she might not have reacted like she did." He sighed, closing his eyes. "But now I'm worried for my sister. My parents would kill her if they found out I was whisked away in the flatbed of a pickup truck."

"You have parents too? What are they like?" the princess asked, genuine interest in her voice. "Are they nice, like I hear parents are?"

Ryan gave the girl a confused look. "Like you hear? Mistress, don't you have parents?" Breeze shook her head solemnly. "Oh... I- I'm sorry, Mistress. I didn't-"

"It's okay," she said forgivingly. "My mother died in childbirth and my father was killed by Cronois. I have no siblings, and no other relatives." A tear dropped to the grass, and Breeze turned her face from Ryan, not wanting him to see her cry. "What are your parents like, Ryan?" she asked in between sniffles.

"They aren't the parents you see or hear about. My parents don't love each other anymore, and barely pay attention to me or my sister, Sarah." Seeing the princess' crestfallen look, he added, "But most parents are nice. I'm sure your mother and father loved each other, and would have cared more for you than anything else in the world."

"I wish I knew," she replied softly, wiping her eyes as she tried to force a smile. "But I never shall." Ryan dropped his gaze to his feet. "What about your sister?" Breeze asked, trying to lighten the mood, and to her relief a small smile came to the boy's face.

"Sarah's a great person, and she actually does care about me. She's in college now, a Sophomore..." he said, and seeing the princess' blank expression explained, "She's in her fourteenth year of school, and will be done in two more years."

"How old is she?"

"Sarah turned nineteen a month ago," Ryan answered. "But she still likes to act like a kid. She's always telling me that she'll have enough time to grow up when she finishes school. That's Sarah for you, so carefree..."

"She sounds nice," Breeze said with a smile. "I'm glad you have family that cares for you."

Ryan reached his hand out to the princess, throwing caution to the wind as he said, "Princess, you'll always be family to me."

"Ryan..." she said, surprised by the boy's daring. Her cheeks beginning to grow pink, Breeze smiled. "I wish I could accept your offer, but I-"

"I understand," Ryan cut in, retracting his hand in apology. "I shouldn't have been so rash."

"No, I meant to say that I could not accept your offer only because I am not allowed." She extended her own hand, meeting the boy's gaze. "I would like to be friends, however. You seem like a nice enough boy," she said, and Ryan took the princess' hand in his own, smiling. "But I would like to ask you one more question about your story."

"Anything, Mistress Breeze."

The princess smiled as she asked, "Am I really as beautiful as you say I am?"

Ryan felt his face grow hot, and he chuckled with embarrassment. "You are, Mistress Breeze."

Breeze leaned forward, pushing the boy playfully. The two stood up together, laughing lightly, and turned back to the castle. "You know," the princess started conversationally, "you weren't that far off when you described me in that first paragraph of yours."

"No?" Ryan asked.

Breeze shook her head. "I guess I had been somewhat of an apathy addict," she said. "But that was two years ago, and I was only fifteen then. Now that I am older, and more mature, I know that my emotions are more important to me than ever before."

"Ahh. Wait, you're only seventeen?" Ryan asked, somewhat shocked.

"Yes. Why, do I look older?"

The boy's mind raced furiously. "But I always thought you were at least twenty..."

"No, I'm only seventeen. Do I really look twenty?"

Ryan felt his blush return, the princess' questioning gaze heating his cheeks. "Your body - I mean, you - look more mature physically. You look a little like my sister, actually."

Breeze grinned slyly. "What do you mean by 'my body is mature', Ryan?"

"N- nothing, Mistress," he answered quickly, his cheeks growing a deeper scarlet.

"Well, then how am I to know if you were complimenting me, or insulting me?"

"It was a compliment, princess," Ryan said, quickening his pace to reach the door first. He opened the bronze door and held it as Breeze walked through.

The princess turned to Ryan and met his gaze. "Then thank you, Ryan," she said happily, and turned right down the hallway.

The boy started to follow her but stopped and turned when he heard someone whistle to him. Aria was leaning against the wall next to the door, shaking her head in disbelief. "You just have all of us girls fawning over you, Ryan," she said jokingly.

"No I don't!" he said exasperatedly, and stepped over to the girl. She turned and began walking, motioning for Ryan to follow. "Where are we going now?" the boy asked, moving next to her.

"The tailor, again," Aria said.

"Didn't you say the tailor was past the courtyard?"

"It is," the girl answered. "It's only another few doors."

"But the courtyard is behind us. Are we walking around the entire castle just to get there?" Ryan asked, confused.

"No, I meant that the tailor is past the entrance to the courtyard. Not through it." Aria shook her head, chuckling. "Here I was, thinking you were actually smart, having wooed the princess in such a short time..."

"I did not woo her," Ryan said.

"So how did you get to be friends so soon? It took her months to start calling me Aria instead of 'girl', and I spent thirteen hours a day with her."

"Well, I really don't know. We started talking, and she asked me about my family, and-"

Aria cut the boy off, shocked. "Wait, the princess spoke to you about her family?"

"Yeah, she did," Ryan said. "She told me about why she had no parents, and that she had no relatives."

"Really? I never knew - I mean, I guessed it, but I never -"

Ryan gave Aria a look of surprise. "Are you telling me that the princess never told you about her family?" Aria shook her head. "Then why would she tell me?"

"I told you, you've already won her over. I think she might actually like you." Ryan gave an exasperated sigh, and Aria laughed playfully as she turned to a bright blue door on her right. "Oh well, if you don't want to believe it, that's fine. But for now, let's just get you out of these rags. The girl opened the door, revealing what looked like an entire department store inside, complete with a second floor. The two stepped through the doorway and were promptly greeted by a weary old man, hunched over and wearing a full-length orange robe. "Good evening, Archie," Aria said cheerfully.

"What in the name of the king did you bring me, you foolish brute?" the bald old man asked roughly. "Take this waste of flesh away from my place of business, before I call her majesty on you. I told you not to bring any riff-raff in here, I told you-" the man's voice died away as he saw the fire in Aria's eyes. "Right, young mistress. I'll be back in a moment, don't go anywhere."

Aria smiled with satisfaction. "Thank you, Archie," she said sweetly as the old man walked slowly to a door on the left wall.

"Robina, get out here!" Archie yelled brusquely, and a moment later a girl who looked to be in her mid-twenties rushed through the side door, grumbling obscenities and glaring at the hunched man.

"I thought I told you not to disturb me, you senile old coot," she said angrily, tying a white belt around her orange robe, but when she saw Aria and Ryan she froze, her facing quickly growing red.

"We have customers, you dolt. Why else would I want to see your ugly face?" Archie said meanly, turning to the back wall and walking away slowly. "Deal with them and then get out of here, you ditsy little-"

"Shut your mouth before I break your neck, you disgusting, wrinkle-faced goblin," Robina shouted after him, then turned to Aria and Ryan. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice sweeter than Ryan would have guessed possible.

"Yes, you can," Aria said, pushing Ryan forward. "This boy needs new clothes."

"I can see that," Robina said bluntly, giving the boy a once-over. "Well, come with me. Let's get you measured, and then you can choose what type of cloth you want."

"Have fun!" Aria called cheerfully after Ryan, then doubled over in laughter. Ryan glanced back at the crimson-haired girl as Robina pulled him to the staircase leading to the second floor.

"Do you have a favorite color, other than grease-blue and dried blood?" the orange-robed girl asked as the two climbed the stairs, brushing some strands of her shoulder-length brown hair from her eyes.

"Not really," Ryan said. "I like white and purple, but I also like orange and blue."

"Well, you can only wear orange if you're work with the supplies for the kingdom, and not many people wear blue. I would advise against purple, because Cronois' emblem is purple and black," Robina said simply.

"What about white?" Ryan asked, surprised by how easily his top color choices had been knocked down.

"Are you joking? Only the princess and her closest associates can wear white."

With a sigh, Ryan shook his head. "Can I wear green then?"

"That you can," Robina said. "Though most of the subjects in Aethon would prefer red or a tan." She stopped by a small round table against the back wall of the second floor and picked up a simple measuring tape. "Would you like green shirt and tan pants?"

"I guess so," Ryan said hesitantly as Robina began to take measurements of his arms, legs, and torso. "I'm still more of a fan of blue. Is there any reason I can't wear blue?"

"Only mages and other magic users can wear that color," the girl said simply, and Ryan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well," he said, "I'm going to be learning magic, so..."

Robina put the measuring tape back on the table and put her hands on her hips impatiently. "Listen, you. Magic is not something you can learn, unless you have some inherent skill in you."

"So why would Ewan tell me I should take up magic?" Ryan thought out loud, and immediately Robina perked up.

"You never said that Ewan told you to learn magic," the girl said hastily. "Of course you can wear blue."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. "Wait, what's so special about that little kid?"

"Some say he might turn out to be the next great sage," Robina said as she picked up a clipboard and began marking a sheet of blue paper. "He's been known to be able to see magical talent in people. And depending on where he sees it, that person will have a different amount of power."

"And if he was staring at my forehead when he said it?"

"Then you're in for a big surprise. The only stronger indicator is if he saw it in your heart." Robina strode off into a sea of tables covered with shirts of all sizes and colors thrown haphazardly on top of each other. Ryan processed the girl's statement for a minute, and as she came back he blinked.

"Wow, are you sure?" he asked.

Robina nodded as she laid three shirts on the table, each a different shade of blue. She turned around and walked to the stairs as she said, "He's the one who saw the potential in me. And he was right." The girl disappeared for a moment, and when she came back there was a pile of pants and shorts, all different shades of tan and brown, in her right hand. "He saw it in my palms though, so I'm not really that strong."

Motioning to all of the clothes on the table, Ryan asked, "Are those all for me?"

Robina nodded. "I'm going to get you some more shirts, and a few belts, but otherwise this should be everything."

"I can't pay for all of this," he said, and Robina laughed.

"There's no cost for the clothing," she said, amused. "Weapons and armor cost money, but we get our cloth for free, from our allies overseas."

Ryan nodded. "Then, can I ask about underwear?"

Robina laughed again, and nodded. "Sure, I'll get you a few pairs of boxers."

"Thanks," the boy said, and Robina walked off to get the rest of his clothes. As she came back, her arms filled with shirts, belts, and boxers, Ryan asked, "So if you can use magic, why do you work here?"

"Two reasons," Robina said as she set the clothes down with the rest. "First, I'm the best tailor in the entire kingdom. And second, my stupid father convinced her majesty to give me this position. 'Head tailor,' he said. 'You won't ever get a better job.' Stupid old coot didn't even want me to learn magic. Said it was 'too far above my ugly head.' Yeah, well, it doesn't matter. As soon as that hunchback dies, I'm going to petition to get out of here."

"Sounds like you like your dad a lot," Ryan said sarcastically. Then, on a more serious note he said, "But I wouldn't leave this position if I were you. I've never known anyone who could take a person's measurements in under five minutes and know exactly what sizes to get."

Robina blushed lightly. "Well, thanks, umm-"

"Ryan."

"-Ryan. Thank you for the compliment." She hugged him happily and picked up some of the clothes. "Now, we're done. And I can finally get around to taking a shower. Stupid dad calling me just as I was getting ready to... oh, crap. I left the water running. The bathroom's going to be a sauna by the time I get there." The two brought the clothes downstairs quickly, and Robina laid her stack down on a small desk. "Thanks again for the kind words, Ryan," she said, and kissed him lightly on the cheek before turning and rushing back to the side room.

Aria chuckled. "My gosh, you are one heck of a ladies man, Ryan." Ryan groaned and the girl hugged him from behind. "How will you ever keep yourself faithful to the princess when you already have Robina and me kissing you?"

"I'll figure out a way," Ryan grumbled, and walked out the blue door, turning left in the direction of his room with Aria following close behind carrying the rest of the clothes.

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 0:42:21)

Chapter 10-- "GatlingCorps"

Can I help it if I'm quiet? With who I am - no, what I am - I have to be. When I'm scouting out the lame deer at the back of its pack for three hours, pouncing on it as it begins to wobble, if I make a single noise the entire group will run away. And then what would be left for me? Those hamburgers that I buy just in case? Yeah, right. I doubt those things have any real meat in them...

But that doesn't matter right now. No, does not even compare. In fact, I'm squatting in the upper branches of a tree, watching my prey walk past me. "Walk past". I would never say that about a deer, and that's why I'm screaming right now. "Run!" I'm yelling, hoping I can get my body to listen to me, no to no avail. At this point, I've lost all control. As for why I can't control my body, that's another story. Right now, I'm trying to stop myself from mentally vomiting.

'She shouldn't be here,' I tried to convince myself. 'She deserves it.' Yeah, I agree. Should've kept that to myself. I'm still fighting against my own body. Don't jump down, I tell it. Don't knock the hot girl to the ground and rip her neck out.

I can feel the werewolf part of me laughing, even though I know it really doesn't have any consciousness. Maybe I'm just laughing at myself. "Why not?" it asks me.

"Why not?" Hello? "Umm, because she's hot?"

"That just means the meat's more tender. And probably means she's used perfume too. See, she seasoned herself. She wants me to eat her."

Now, as crazy as it seems, my animal instincts are trying to use some warped form of logic to condone eating a human. I can't stand for this, can I? Not without a fight, at least. "...Please?" Yup, I put up one helluva fight. You should see me arguing politics.

Silently I drop to the ground behind the girl, expertly landing on the soft dirt to silence my feet hitting the ground. Still screaming for the girl to run, I creep forward. I reach out my clawed right hand to the girl's neck, but at the last second feel myself gaining control again. Finally. With a sigh of exhaustion and relief, I retract my hand, and I feel the fur begin to pull itself back inside of me. It is the weirdest feeling ever, although I hear stepping in a bucket of gelaton is fairly strange too. Wait, I sighed. Out loud. Crap.

As the girl stops and feels me standing behind her, I close my eyes and hope I look at least mostly human. And if I don't, I hope that my ears are at least human. You should hear a girl scream, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard creating feedback in a microphone. Ugh. But I guess I looked normal enough, because when she saw me she didn't scream. Actually, she was crying. And yes, I'm going to flip into the past tense. I write these journal entries in past tense normally, but a friend of mine told me I should see what I could do with writing things in present tense.

Whatever. In any case, I'm not making any of this up. As crazy as it seems, I have a perfect memory of everything that I have seen, heard, or thought since I was seven years old. The day I found out that the blood transfusion I got had been laced with lycan blood cells. And congratulations, you have the world's worst werewolf. Me.

Anyway, back to the story.

So there I was, standing less than a foot away from this girl, the most beautiful piece of humanity I'd ever seen, and all she did was blink. No scream, no fear, not even a "Hello, how are you." I could see that she had been crying, and from the way she was stumbling through the forest, I could tell that there was something pretty hard going on for her in her life. Strange, almost sounded like me back when I was eight.

But she did give me a look like, 'What do you want?', and I guess I got kind of embarrassed, because I froze. Couldn't respond. My mouth wouldn't open, and I almost thought my werewolf side was coming out again. Twice in less than a day, let alone my old record of a week. But no, I didn't feel the fur growing, or my claws coming out, or even the unsteady heartbeat I always had as a werewolf. "Hi," she finally said.

Again, I couldn't speak. And then, the weirdest thing, my face got hot. I was freaking out, wondering if this was my werewolf side going crazy from a lack of food. It had gotten desperate enough to almost attack this girl, I had to remind myself. There could be something wrong. I began to worry for the girl. Now, that may not sound strange, but for me that was big. When was the last time I had cared about anyone? But yet, there I was, afraid that I might hurt her. No, wait, that's not exactly right. It was more that I was afraid she would feel pain. Even stranger.

It didn't matter. I turned and took a running leap at the nearest tree, quickly scaling it to get away from that girl. As I did though, the feeling died away. And that was even more strange. I had never experienced that before, and it had only lasted for a short moment. "Umm... hello?" the girl called up to me, and I stiffened. She was still following me? "Are you okay?"

My god, I thought. Does she want me to kill her? For a moment, I expected to hear the werewolf in me say 'Yes', but all I heard was the girl calling up to me again and again. "Y- you should go away," I said loudly, trying to get her to leave. I was reluctant about it, though. Something inside of me wanted her to stay, and that scared me even more. Was my werewolf side taking over my thoughts and emotions too?

"Why?" the girl asked defiantly. "Come down here and tell me."

I sighed and dropped from the tree, changing back into a werewolf. This time it was different from before, because this time I had the control. And I was not going to try and rip her throat out. On the other hand, my improved eyesight gave me a better sense of why I felt so strange. 'Damn,' I thought to myself. 'This girl is really cute.' I took a moment to admire her blonde hair, her soft white skin, her... you get the point.

"What are you?" she asked, finally showing that look of shock I had expected earlier. The girl took a step back out of fear, and I stepped back because I didn't want her to be scared. What the heck was happening to me?

I choked on my words when I tried to speak, but I eventually opened my canine snout and sighed. "I... am a werewolf," I said. "But I am still human, too. And my name's Inyro. Inyro Gatling."

"Inyro?" she asked. "A werewolf? I thought-"

"There are plenty of things that people scratch off as myth or legend. Unfortunately, I'm not one of them." I leaned against a tree, trying my best to look cool. I was trying to give this random hottie a good impression. I mean, for the first time I saw her, this girl was doing some major rearrangements with my personality. "What about you? Just one of those puny humans that scurries around trying to make money to please mommy and daddy?"

"You wish," she said, her voice and entire demeanor changing when I mentioned the prospect of parents. "I don't care about them. And you shouldn't think too highly of yourself either. You're the least scary werewolf I've ever seen."

Just to try and spite her, I growled darkly and waved my claws at her. "I've killed stronger creatures than you. And I almost did kill you, without you even noticing!"

"So why didn't you?" she asked, her scathing response freezing me for a moment.

I don't know why, but at that moment I gave up and let myself turn back into a human. "I don't know," I answered softly.

The girl walked up to me, and put a hand on my shoulder. "Do you know anything about a girl named Breeze? Or Aria?" I gave her a shocked look. She knew about that kid princess and the mage who hates werewolves? How was that? When she saw my reaction, she smiled. "Can you take me there?" she asked sweetly.

I blushed.

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 0:49:26)

Chapter 11-- "Takes One to Know One"

Ryan ducked low as Aria's fireball neared, barely dodging the latest attack the girl had thrown at him. As he rolled to his left, correctly expecting a second blast to be heading toward his position, the boy shouted, "Do you have to keep throwing those things at me?" He stood upright, and just as he noticed that Aria was no longer in front of him a fireball smashed into the steel plate on his back.

"Get up," she said impatiently, another fireball appearing in her palm. "If you stay down for more than three seconds, you'd be dead." Ryan rose to his feet and turned to face Aria, and was met with a fireball to his chestplate. As he staggered backward, the girl drew her dagger and pointed it at his throat. "And never, ever get up straight and standing still. In battle, if you stop moving, you die."

"So basically, you're telling me that if I'm not perfect, I'm dead?" Ryan asked, out of breath from the rigorous training Aria was putting him through. He took a moment to wipe the dirt from his face, his chest heaving, and Aria laughed.

"No," she said as she stepped forward, in the boy's direction. "Luck will save you about ninety percent of the time."

Ryan grumbled what sounded to the girl like, "So what's with the 'you are going to die' stuff?"

"Because the last ten percent is what happens most often," Aria said calmly, and took a few steps back, sheathing her blade. "Now take a seat. We'll do a little work on your magic."

"Finally," the boy said as he plopped himself down on the grass. "It's been over a week and we haven't so much as talked about magic."

Aria chuckled at his comment and replied, "If I had tried teaching you magic a week ago, you would've been dead."

"What's with me and dying all of a sudden?" Ryan asked, the exasperation in his voice unmistakable. "I mean, come on, I'm not that weak."

"True, you're stronger than the people you knew before coming to Aethon. But here, training and sparring are as commonplace as cars and cell phones are back in Manhattan. Honestly, you came in at a fairly steep disadvantage."

Ryan stood slowly, grimacing at the stiffness he felt in his back. "Can I at least take off this armor?" he asked, and Aria nodded. As he lifted the steel body armor off of him, the girl walked over to the pond, and Ryan joined her after fixing his shirt. "What're you looking at?"

"What I live for," Aria answered softly. "The nature around us." Then she turned to Ryan and cocked her head, in thought, as she studied his appearance. "You have gained some muscle, but I'm not sure it'll be enough yet..."

"Enough for what? For magic?" Ryan asked, confused.

"No, we had better wait on that," she said to herself, ignoring the boy. With a sigh, Aria lifted her hands so they were level with her shoulders, palms facing each other. "Now, Ryan, put your hands like this." She cupped her hands slightly, leaving a large circular area of free space between her palms. Ryan copied the girl's position, and she gave him a nod of approval.

As the boy watched, Aria closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. A moment later Ryan noticed the girl's hands glowing dimly, and in another moment a small ball of golden light appeared in the space between her hands. "Whoa," he said, stunned. "What is that?"

"This," Aria answered distantly, her eyes still closed, "is as pure as you can make visible magic. It's tougher to create this than it is to create a fireball, lightning bolt, or even lift a boulder with air."

"Wow."

Aria let the light disappear and opened her eyes, smirking expectantly. "And that is exactly why you won't be starting any other type of magic until you can make the golden lights."

"Wait, what? But you just said it was the hardest to do."

"Exactly." The girl gave Ryan a pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll get it within a month. I have faith in you." Ryan groaned in his impatience, and Aria laughed. "Believe me, Ryan, it's worth the wait."

"That's what I was afraid you would say," the boy answered with a sigh. "But anyway, how would I go around doing it anyway?"

"Oh, right. Forgot to mention that Well, you want to basically feel the magic in you and-"

"You haven't even told me how to do that!" Ryan interrupted, throwing his hands up in annoyance. "How am I supposed to start doing magic if I can't even feel my magic?"

Aria rolled her eyes at the boy's impatience and explained, "You've felt it, I can assure you. It's that throbbing you feel in your hands sometimes, mostly your thumb, that feels like a pulse."

"Wait, that's the magic?"

"Yes, it is."

Ryan closed his eyes, returning his hands to the position Aria had shown him, and surprisingly soon felt the strange pulsing in his thumb. He concentrated on that feeling, and tried to push it out, somehow, to form that golden light. After a minute of no success, however, the boy found himself growing frustrated. "I can't do this," he said almost angrily.

Aria glanced at him but after giving him a small smile her eyes returned to the pond. "You can't do it, because you're forcing it. Feel the magic in one hand, feel it in the other, and try to feel them connecting, as if you were touching your thumbs together."

"Okay," Ryan said uncertainly, and exhaled loudly as he closed his eyes again. He felt the throb from his left hand, and felt it in his right. Instead of try to move the magic, this time he tried to imagine the magic flowing freely from hand to hand, as if connected by an invisible cord. 'Only, the cord is gold,' Ryan thought to himself.

"Good," Aria said. "You've got the strand going, now make it a ball instead."

"What?" Ryan asked, incredulous, as he opened his eyes and looked to his hands. The dim golden cord of magic faded after a moment, but the boy was ecstatic. "I did it!" he shouted happily, but Aria just smiled and shook her head.

"You didn't, Ryan," she said simply, and he stared at her, mouth hanging in disbelief. "You made the cord of magic, which is good. But I want you to make just the ball, without any cord."

"Are you kidding me?" he asked. "I just did everything you wanted! You saw the golden light."

"I saw the golden strand, not the golden light." She kept her eyes on the pond as Ryan threw his hands up in disbelief, again, and after a moment turned to face the boy. "Listen, Ryan. I know it's taking a while, and I know you want this badly. But you can't rush magic. If anything, it will rush you."

"Whatever," he said, grumbling as he repositioned his hands. "If you want a ball, I'll give you a ball." Again Ryan closed his eyes, and in fairly little time the cord of magic had returned. The boy took a moment to contemplate the problem he was faced with, forming the ball without any cord, but soon he had an answer. 'If I think of the cord as invisible,' he thought, 'but a bulge in the middle is gold, should that do it?' As he focused on that tactic, Aria noticed the cord flickering, while the center grew and ballooned outward.

When the ball of light had nearly reached Ryan's hands, Aria clapped loudly, shaking the boy from his concentration. "Don't strain yourself," she said dully. "It's a bad idea to make the ball so big."

"Wait, I made it?" Ryan asked, hopeful. Aria nodded, smiling, and the boy let his hands drop to his sides, his arms beginning to ache. "I thought you said it would take a month?"

Aria smiled slyly, and said, "Nah, if it took you that long I would've had to wonder is Ewan really did see anything." She gave the incredulous boy a light push. "But you look exhausted from that, so we'll take a break before doing any real magic."

"What do you mean, 'real magic'? Wasn't that the hardest thing to do?"

"Are you kidding? No, that's probably the easiest to do. Now wind magic, that's tough." She turned to the castle and said, "Come on, it's almost dinner time. If we're lucky, we may see Robina there."

"Why is that lucky?" Ryan asked, still in shock from learning how little he had accomplished. "What's so special about Robina?"

Aria started walking back to the courtyard doors, and with Ryan at her side she said jokingly, "Well, if the princess sees you sitting between two cuties like me and Robina..."

"Oh, will you please give that up, Aria? You haven't mentioned it in three days, I thought you were done."

"Never," Aria said, laughing lightly. "I need something to hold over your head."

Ryan groaned as the two reached the doors. "Do you really need to use that?" he asked, opening one of the doors and holding it for Aria. "Can't you find something else, like my horrible fighting?"

"I wish, but you're so bad it's not even funny."

"Thanks for the confidence boost," the boy said sarcastically, following Aria to the gigantic dining room, seventeen doors past the blue door of the tailor. Ryan had learned to count the doors as he walked, due to the confusing fact that most of the doors were unmarked. As the two entered the dining hall, one of the brown-coated waiters came up to the two and turned sharply, leading them to a small round table.

"Oh, Greg, I'm not on a date," Aria said jokingly, but sat down before the waiter could offer another table. Ryan sat across from her, in the only other chair, and cracked his back loudly.

"My god, boy, what is that sound? Did you decide to rearrange your bones?" Breeze said softly, standing behind Ryan. She saw the boy freeze and then quickly sit up straight before turning to face her.

"Mistress Breeze," Ryan said, surprised. "How are you?"

"Fine, I suppose. Ewan is going to be ready to continue his training tomorrow, but I find myself wondering whether to postpone any work until he is fully recovered."

"I would wait at least a day, princess," the boy said after a moment of silent thought. "It's better that he be fully ready to work than for him to injure himself again."

The princess nodded her understanding. "I see. Well, I shall leave you to your meal with Aria, boy."

"Where are you eating tonight, Mistress Breeze?" Aria asked quickly as Breeze turned to leave. She knew the princess had been eating her meals with either Ryan or Ewan for the last few days, but Ewan had been given some sleep draught a few hours before noon, and he would not wake until the next day. "You can eat with us, if it is not too much of a bother for you."

Breeze smiled lightly as Aria finished her statement. "After what you just said, I have no choice." The princess took a chair from table nearest her and brought it over, but as she was about to sit two of the waiters came rushing over. "Is there something wrong?" she asked them, concerned.

"No, Mistress," one of the two said. "We are here to assist you if you need anything."

"Well thank you, but for now I am fine. If I ever need assistance, you two will be the first to know." Breeze gave the waiters a small smile and they went back to the small huddle of waiters standing near the kitchen. A moment later, a rather large man in a spotless white cloak came through the kitchen door and, after talking briefly with the waiters, came waddling over to the princess. "Ahh, Torbold. How are you tonight?" she asked, addressing the man as he neared.

Torbold stopped as near to the table as he could without accidentally bumping it, and without acknowledging Ryan or Aria bowed to Breeze respectfully. The princess gave the two a wink as the waiter said, "Mistress Breeze, I am feeling ready to cook for royalty. And here you are! So, what can I make for you tonight?"

"I would have to wait for the table's waiter, would I not?" she asked innocently, and the chef laughed deeply.

"My princess," he said, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief, "You need wait for no waiter. I would take your order personally."

Aria grinned expectantly as Breeze nodded. "Well," the princess said, "then I would like you to meet my friends, Torbold. The boy, Hungry, and his friend Hungrier, are both rather famished. I, on the other hand, could wait for a waiter."

The chef switched his gaze from the princess to the others quickly, and fumbled over his words in his embarrassment. "Well, Mistress, I- that is, you..." Breeze raised a hand, silencing Torbold.

"Torbold, I am not asking for an explanation. I only request that you will treat my friends with the same courtesy and respect that you show me."

The chef again bowed to the princess, and then turned to the others. "Well, I must apologize for my ignoring you two before."

"Not a problem, good sir," Aria said cheerfully, trying to repress her laughter. "Now, Hungry, do you know what you want?" she asked, twisting in her seat to face Ryan. "I find myself debating between a steak and something I tried last week... a cheeseburger?"

"I'm in the mood for Italian myself, Hungrier," Ryan replied, playing along. Then, turning to Torbold he asked, "Do you make lasagna, by any chance?" The chef nodded. "Okay, then lasagna it is."

"And you?" the man asked Aria apprehensively.

"I think I would try your cheeseburger tonight."

Torbold nodded, but after a moment of Aria staring at him he sighed and asked, "What, may I ask, is a cheeseburger?"

Ryan decided to intervene, to give the portly chef a break from Aria's torment. "It's a patty of ground beef on a sesame seed bun with sliced cheese melted on. But I have seen many great chefs change certain aspects, like the bun or the topping, to make it their own." Torbold gave the boy a grateful nod and turned back to Breeze.

"Mistress, would you like to order as well?" he asked.

The princess nodded and smiled. "Now that I know my friends have ordered, I suppose I'll get a cheeseburger as well."

Torbold nodded and turned back to the kitchen, walking back as quickly as possible and wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. "How in his majesty's name am I supposed to make a cheeseburger?" he grumbled angrily.

Aria broke out into peals of laughter as the chef went into the kitchen. "Mistress Breeze, you are evil."

"He deserved it," Breeze replied simply, leaning back in her chair and smiling. "I can't see why he would treat you or Ryan like empty chairs."

"Well, princess, we're not royalty," Ryan said. "He wouldn't pay as much attention to me or Aria simply because you wear nicer clothes." Breeze nodded. "And another thing," the boy added. "You called me Ryan."

The princess shrugged coolly. "If you keep trying to win my favor by complimenting me whenever you see me, I might as well just start calling you by whatever you call yourself."

"Do you want me to stop complimenting you, your beautiful royalness?" Ryan asked innocently. Breeze blushed lightly and looked away. "Shall I take that as a no, majesty?"

"If you'll stick to Mistress or princess, then go ahead," she said finally, turning back to Ryan. "But do not forget, I am the one with the sword."

"But he," Aria inserted, "is the one who Ewan sees as a tier-two mage." Breeze gave the girl an astonished look and glanced at a smiling Ryan. Aria continued, "And he's already mastered making his magic a physical substance."

"Impressive, for an outsider," the princess said. "But how are you with a sword?"

"Not as impressive," Aria answered quickly, and Ryan gave a resigned nod. "Maybe you should tutor him until Ewan has recovered? He may learn some respect for your emotions there."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Breeze asked, sincerely confused by Aria's statement.

The fiery-haired girl gave a light chuckle. "It's not hard to see that he has begun to charm you, Mistress," she said softly, and upon seeing the princess blush she grinned.

"You-" Breeze started, but let her words die away. Ryan stood suddenly, leaving the dining hall silently. When the princess noticed his absence a moment later, she gazed steadily at Aria, recomposing herself.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"And I thought Ryan was the ignorant one," Breeze said, softly. She followed Ryan from the room, leaving Aria at the table, shocked and confused.

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 0:51:15)

Chapter 12-- "Bonds Unbroken"

"Ryan!" Breeze called down the hallway, but the boy was out of earshot. With a sigh, she leaned against the wall and waited for her mind to calm and her adrenaline to die away. 'What's happening to me?' she asked herself as she stood, propped against the wall. 'Why do I feel so... hurt?'

Aria opened the door slowly and walked over to the princess, her head low in subordinance. "Mistress, I would like to apologize for my insolence. I should have kept my comment to myself."

"I trust you to keep the conversation light, Aria," Breeze said, forcing a smile. "You're bound to get caught up in an awkward situation every so often. I forgive you."

"Still," the girl said with a sigh, "I could tell that I really did hit something sensitive. I'm going to go apologize to Ryan, for-"

"For possibly giving away the fact that the closer he gets to me, the happier he is?" the princess finished, and Aria gave her a shocked look. "Do you think I'm truly that ignorant, Aria?" The redhead blushed with embarrassment, and Breeze rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you have too little faith in me."

Aria smiled slightly, glad that Breeze was trying to lighten the mood. She raised her eyes to the princess' level and replied, "If you were so good at noticing little details, Mistress, you would have noticed that the guard walking toward us, from behind me, is trying to catch your attention."

"And you, Aria, might have noticed that Ryan was following him, stride for stride." The princess winked. "I told you, I am very good at this." She walked around Aria and met the guard as he slowed, taking a moment to calm his breathing. Ryan went around the lightly armored young man and stood at the princess' side. "Well, what is it?" Breeze asked.

"Mistress Breeze, the forest scout has reported that two people are walking to the castle." He inhaled deeply and continued, "They are unarmed, but they seem to know exactly where the castle is, and the scout warns that they may be mages of some sort."

The princess nodded. "Thank you. Tell the guards to position themselves around the main entrance. If these two are coming so openly, they will enter through the front door, I am sure of it." The guard nodded and hurried on down the hallway, toward where Aria had told Ryan were the barracks for the guards. "Now, as for you two," Breeze said, addressing Ryan and Aria, "I would like you to join me in the main room itself."

"Mistress, why there?" the boy asked, somewhat confused.

"To greet them," she answered simply, and took off at a brisk pace down the hall, Aria and Ryan close behind. As they entered the main room, where Ryan had first met Breeze, a group of young men and women, all older than the princess and wearing thick leather armor, began to assemble behind the doors.

"You are pretty young compared to the other residents of the castle, aren't you, princess?" the boy said.

Breeze nodded and explained, "There are only about two hundred people living here, Ryan. Out of that, only about fifty are older than thirty years, and they all became travelers after my mother died. They were all so afraid of the Cronois army, so now the main population of the castle is under twenty-five."

"Ohh, I see."

"Yeah, but you get used to it," Aria said airily.

"Wait, doesn't that put you on the older side, Aria?" Ryan asked, remembering that in his binder he had written her as twenty-three years old.

The redhead restrained herself from slapping the boy as Breeze laughed loudly. "Call me old again, Ryan, and I swear..." Aria's voice died away as she heard faint voices drift in through the doors. "Quiet now, they're near."

"What are we being so silent for?" Breeze asked coolly, and turned to face the large, oak doors. As they opened, and she caught a glimpse of the two travelers, a smile came to her face. "Inyro, have you returned to stay this time? And you brought a friend?"

Inyro walked into the room, and as he and the girl passed the door, he felt the girl push past him and rush over to the boy standing at the right of the princess. "What's her problem?" he grumbled quietly.

"Ryan!" the girl cried, but stopped short as Breeze stepped in between the two, rapier drawn.

"Come another step toward the boy," the princess said calmly, "and I assure you, I will kill you."

Ryan put a hand on Breeze's shoulder. "Mistress," he said, somewhat stunned. "That's Sarah. She's my sister." Silence filled the room as Inyro, Breeze, and Aria turned to the blonde, surprised.

"Your... sister?" the princess asked slowly, lowering her weapon. "This is Sarah?"

"Yes," the blonde said. She walked to Ryan, tears coming to her eyes. "It's been almost two weeks, bro. I finally found you." The two embraced happily, and Sarah let herself cry, showing the emotion she had held back since she had seen Ryan whisked away in Aria's pickup. "I found you."

Ryan hugged his sister tightly. "I missed you," he said softly, his voice wavering. "I was scared, and I missed you so much."

As the two siblings reunited, Aria found herself gazing warily at Inyro. When the boy took a step toward her, taking his hood off, she shifted into a defensive stance, as if ready to fight. The hoodied boy growled angrily. "What is your problem?" he asked loudly, alerting Breeze to the situation. "I come here completely normal, no problems, but you always look like I'm ready to attack you!"

"Aria, go to the next room and tell the guards they are dismissed. There are no enemies here," the princess ordered, and with a half-nod Aria left the room. Turning to Inyro, Breeze said, "I am sorry, Inyro, for Aria's reaction. There is-" she paused as she struggled to word her statement, "-a long story behind it."

"You're not kidding," the boy said bluntly as the princess strode to his side. "But you would think that after a while, she could get over it."

Breeze ruffled Inyro's dirty blonde hair, just to annoy him, and he pulled his head away sharply in response. "It is not her fault, nor is it yours, Inyro."

"You know, I noticed how you really never learned how to talk normal."

"Talk normal? What do you mean by that?"

Ryan laughed and said, "He means that you can't talk informally. You always sound like an essay or something. No contractions, smart words, all that."

"I do not understand," Breeze said.

Inyro shook his head. "Just forget it, I don't feel like explaining."

"Okay, but I-"

"Princess, it's not that important. Honestly, I got used to it fairly quickly," Ryan said, he and Sarah walking over to Inyro.

Breeze opened her mouth to speak but caught herself, closed her mouth, and took another moment to think. Finally, she said, "Wait a minute. Inyro, how did you and Sarah meet? You normally dislike company."

"It wasn't my fault, I'll tell you that much. Boy was a wackjob when I saw him first, standing there all pale, like I was gonna kill him," Sarah said quickly, and Inyro rolled his eyes.

"You were lucky I regained control, Sarah, or you would've been dead."

"Wait, what?" Ryan asked, confused. "What part of this story am I missing?"

The boy sighed and lifted off his hoodie as he began his transformation into a werewolf. The fur grew from his skin, one inch, two. His face grew out, creating a canine muzzle, covered in the same light brown fur that covered his formerly bare arms and neck. The hair on the top of his head faded black, and with some fur growing out in between the hairs on his head, the black began to look more like a discoloration than hair. Inyro's ears grew out, and a fully-formed werewolf stood facing the princess and the Aberythstye siblings. "Now you know," he said with a sigh.

Ryan stepped forward cautiously, stunned by the change he had seen. With a tentative hand he brushed the fur on Inyro's muzzle, pulled away quickly, and turned to Sarah. "Sis, did you-?" She nodded, and Ryan returned the motion as he faced Inyro again. "Wow," he said, amazed. "I never thought werewolves were real. I always thought they were too cool to exist on Earth."

"Was that a compliment?" the werewolf asked dully, sarcastically. He looked to Sarah. "Sarah, does your kid brother have any medical problems I should be aware of?" Before the girl could answer, Ryan reached a hand up and began lightly touching one of Inyro's ears. The werewolf pushed his hand away roughly, growling menacing. "This isn't a petting zoo, you insolent little-"

Sarah stepped forward and pulled her brother back a few steps, shaking her head with amusement. "He's always been obsessed with that kind of thing. Werewolves, dragons, magic... if it's fantasy, he loves it."

"Really?" Breeze said, reminding both Inyro and Sarah of her presence. "That is an amusing coincidence. He has begun learning magic recently."

"Ryan? My brother Ryan?" Sarah asked, incredulous. "No way. That's impossible, he's never shown any magic talent at all. No disappearing glass panels at zoos, no levitation, nothing. Heck, he couldn't even do a simple card trick the right way."

The princess laughed lightly, drawing Ryan's attention away from the werewolf. "Magic does not reveal itself in those ways. That is illusion. Magic is nature, the energy that makes nature work at its core, in and around a person who can control it. Card tricks and disappearing acts are child's play compared to lifting a boulder with the winds or inciting a tree to grow taller than normal."

Sarah shrugged. "Still, I don't believe you." She looked to Ryan. "So, Ryan, if you can do magic, show me."

Ryan shook his head slowly. "I can't, Sis. I only just started today. I can't really do anything yet."

"Then I won't believe either of you."

Inyro snorted. "And normally, this is where the white-haired executioner would draw her rapier and tell you she should kill you." He looked to Breeze, who simply blushed slightly and looked away. "Or not," he said, somewhat confused.

"Well," the princess started, her voice quiet, "I am trying to learn how to become a better princess. One who can sympathize with her subjects."

Inyro shook his head. "That's not the Princess Breeze I know," he said. "What happened in the last year?"

"Wait, princess?" Sarah asked, realization dawning on her as she turned to the white-haired girl. "You're not a princess!"

Ryan stepped into the conversation as the princess' old self began to show, a small frown forming on her face. "Sarah, Breeze is a princess. She's just-" he paused when he felt the point of Breeze's rapier touch his back.

"What did I tell you," she started, her voice low as she tried to control her anger, "about calling me Breeze?"

"I- I apologize, Mistress Breeze," Ryan stammered quickly, stepping away from the girl and pulling his sister to his side. "It slipped my mind, it won't-"

"I know it won't, Ryan," the princess said, sheathing her blade. "Because if it does, I will not forgive you again."

Ryan bowed his head respectfully and began walking toward the door to the main hallway, pushing Sarah in front of him. "Now, if you would excuse me, Mistress," he said quickly as he and his sister exited.

In the hall, Sarah shuddered and turned to Ryan. "What was that about?" she asked.

"The princess is a rather, shall I say, belligerent person. I thought that was just a mask though, because she was always so happy and carefree around me, especially out in the courtyard. In the course of the last week, the only time she ever acted like what you saw was when I first met her."

"So what happened?"

"You insulted her, I guess. When you were so surprised she was a princess, something must've clicked in her head. Maybe she'll be calmer when we see each other again. But be sure not to call her just Breeze. She's a big fan of the title 'Mistress' for some reason."

Sarah nodded as she listened to her brother. "Okay, sure. But man, that was still pretty... insane."

The door to the entrance hall opened and the princess walked through. "Ryan, Sarah, I want to apologize for my outburst. Just, please try not to be so indignant in the future."

"Yes, Mistress," Ryan replied happily, and Breeze nodded before walking away down the hall. The boy sighed. "There you have it. She's back to normal."

"I heard that," Breeze called back, and turned to see Ryan's face grow red from embarrassment. She winked and kept walking.

"Close call, Bro," Sarah said jokingly. The two stood there for another moment, and then the girl sighed in her boredom. "Where can we go now?"

Ryan glanced quickly at his sister's dirty shirt. "When was the last time you changed your clothes?" he asked.

"Why should you care?"

"You're wearing the same outfit you were wearing when we went to go show Aria my story." Aria dropped her glance, confirming Ryan's thoughts.

"So? I never had time to stop and change. I was worrying for you, kid. But what does that have to do with anything?"

Ryan sighed. "It means we're going to the tailor."

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 1:06:58)

Chapter 13-- "Midnight Assassin"

Ten years ago, in Aethon Village, ten miles from Aethon Castle, something horrible occurred.
These events live on in a diary entry from Aria.



There's no easy way to tell this story. Not that I don't remember. It's impossible to forget, what happened back when I was fourteen.


It was just me and Andy, sitting out in that same field. Every day we would meet at the fountain in the middle of town, walk along the cobblestones of Main Street. I can't remember if we were already in love when we started doing that, back when I was eleven, but by the time I turned thirteen we were. We would meet at the fountain, and just as we start walking Andy would ask if I wanted to play a game. And I would say yes, as if I thought it was going to be tag. "Okay," he would say, "Every time you step on a crack, you have to kiss me." And I would laugh, just to see him smile.

I loved his smile, the way his eyes lit up, the way the edges of his lips almost touched his ears... Andy had the most amazing smile. And he loved to hear me laugh. He loved hearing anyone laugh. That would be enough for him, to hear me laugh. I did it all the time, just a light giggle, just to see him smile again. I loved his smile. And I loved him, so the kissing game was almost a challenge for me not to purposely step on cracks.

And I was always so good at that game, too. I remember the first time we played it, on the day before my twelfth birthday. It was such a beautiful day, so bright and cheery. Even the creepy old usurers were smiling that day. Well, maybe it was the sun brightening up their faces. But it looked like they were happy. Isn't that enough?

And then, when he met me at the fountain and, because he's Andy, got my attention by splashing water all over my white shirt, he sat down on the edge of the fountain. And I sat in his lap, because I'm me, and it felt right. He was wearing his favorite pair of blue shorts, and I knew it because they felt so smooth against my skin. And cool, too. For a warm summer day, his shorts were unnaturally cool. I mean, I was only wearing a short skirt that day. And his pants were dark blue. Normally, that would mean my legs would get hot from sitting in his lap. But it was perfect. Maybe he knew.

But maybe he didn't. It really didn't matter, sitting there with my arms around him, hugging him to say hello. He pretended to get mad at me, for getting his favorite pair of pants wet, but Andy was never good at being angry. And I loved him for that too. So when he told me that he was going to get his revenge by beating me in a game, I knew he wasn't really mad. Maybe he knew that I knew.

He hugged me back, sitting on the edge of that fountain, and he whispered into my ear, "If you step on a crack, you have to kiss me. That's the game."

I laughed, and he smiled, and after just sitting there, listening to the birds playing and the water in the fountain tinkling to the pool, he pretended to push me off of him. So I stood, laughing again like a little girl who was too shy to talk because there was a really cute boy talking to her. And he took my hand, lightly, because I had scraped it the day before, running away from my dad and catching myself from falling by grabbing the rough stone on one of the shops. And I distinctly remember blushing. It was my first real blush, so I remember it clearly.

We started walking, and I dodged cracks left and right. Every so often, Andy would give me a light push, to try and throw me off-balance. But I was too good to be beat by that, and he knew it. We went all down Main Street, and I dodged all three hundred and two cracks. Well, almost. We got to the last crack, and Andy looked like he was ready to grab my foot and put it down on the crack by force. But he just smiled, and his smile made me laugh.

I'm still not sure if I did it on purpose or not. Andy always said it was on purpose, and I always said it was an accident. But I stepped on that last crack. I stepped down and blushed again, more than I had the first time. My face felt as hot as the cobblestones we were walking on, but all I really remember about that moment was looking down at my foot, looking up to Andy, and giggling. He was smiling, of course.

And right then, without any hesitation, we kissed. It happened just like that. I leaned in. He leaned in. And I felt his tough lips, and the air he was exhaling. I'm not sure he was ready. I know I was. But after we kissed, we smiled at each other again. And I swear, his face was redder than my hair. We kissed again, after taking a minute to look at each other and letting it set in. We kissed twice on that last crack of the cobblestones of Main Street. And I can't ever go back and visit that spot. Maybe if I could, I might find something there. Solace. Closure. Peace.


But we were walking down that street, me dodging the cracks and then purposely stepping on the second-to-last crack. I could never bring myself to step on that last crack again. It was too sacred, I guess. But every day since our first kiss, just like he did on the worst day of my life, he would pick me up in his arms and walk me over that last crack, with me hugging him and him smiling. Every day we crossed our threshold, and silently we told each other that we would get married. That we were in love.

That love, and the memories of that threshold. They reminded me that there is good in others. Even if my mom was dead, and my abusive dad was still beating me every night he remembered I was still sleeping in his house, I had Andy. And I wonder why it's so hard to wake up every morning.

It was that day. I was fourteen, and on that cool Autumn day, right around sunset, we sat down in the field of flowers - our field, as we called it. And everyone in town knew it was our field. They knew that Andy was saving money to buy the plot of land nearest to that field from the princess' advisers, they knew that I was already planning out where to have our wedding ceremony, and they knew that we would always sit in a patch of flowers on the West side of the small hill to watch the sunset.

What they didn't know was that we slept there some nights, when I ran away from my father. That we would cuddle up close and promise each other that no matter what happened to anyone else, ever, we would meet in that field, on that hill, and we would stay alive to be with each other.

It was one of those nights where I was only pretending to sleep. My father was drinking whatever alcohol he could find around the house, and all I did was hope he would pass out downstairs. That I wouldn't hear his heavy, uneven footsteps as he climbed the stairs. That I wouldn't have to hide myself under my blanket, the one my mother had knit for me before she died, to protect myself from my father's merciless fists. I looked at my clock then, and saw it was almost midnight. I remembered what Andy had told me, that if I ever needed him on a night like this one, that he would be at the end of Main Street until one in the morning every night.

It took me a minute to think about it, but when I heard those drunken footsteps climbing to my bedroom, I jumped out of my bed and rushed over to the window. I was gone before my father had even reached my door. And I was already running down Main Street, barefoot and cold, by the time he had opened it. I wouldn't stop running, I couldn't, until I got to Andy, right down at the second-to-last crack of the cobblestones of Main Street. He took me in his arms, held me close. His body warmed me, and his embrace calmed me down. I felt safe, in his arms.

So when he lifted me over the last crack, and we sat down on the West side of the hill, I was safe. It took ten minutes for me to notice the noise coming from town. It took me another five to actually turn around, because Andy was holding me tightly, safely, as if he didn't want me to turn around. And it took me less than a second to notice the life fading from his eyes.

"Aria," he said to me, smiling even now. I started to cry again. There was nothing else I could remember, I was crying. "Aria."

I couldn't answer him. I wouldn't. If I did, that would mean he was lying there, dying, on the bed of sky blue perennials on the West side of the hill in our field.

"Aria," he said again. His voice was quieter this time, and I stopped crying. "These flowers are so beautiful, aren't they?" he asked. I nodded.

I grabbed his hand as he started to close his eyes. "Don't go," I whispered to him, and his eyes opened again, more vibrant and full of life than ever before.

"I love you, Aria," he said, and I told him I loved him, that I always would, and that we would tell everyone in town the next day. He smiled. "You're even more beautiful than the flowers."

I couldn't help but smile. He was trying to help me forget what was happening while it was happening. "What about you?" I asked him.

"Pretend I'm the flowers."


And that was goodbye. He closed his eyes and died, smiling at me, making me laugh a little. But I'll never forget what he told me to do. I never forgot looking up, either, and seeing two of the werewolves from the forest running into town down the cobblestones of Main Street.

And after that, I kissed Andy again, his lips still warm from the life he was supposed to have. With me.


When I woke up again, I was lying in the courtyard of Castle Aethon, with a young Princess Breeze sitting next to me. The only other thing from this story that I'll never forget, she was holding for me a handful of perennials. "These are for you," she said, happily. "I think you and these flowers look pretty together."

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 1:08:12)

Chapter 13_2-- "Midnight Assassin - From the Eyes of Another"

Two hours after the diary entry was distributed amongst the subjects of Aethon -much to Aria's embarrassment- as the only recollection of the events that took place on that fateful night of August 16, a young Princess Breeze discovered two pieces of lined paper nailed to a tree. The following was written upon those sheets:


I'm sorry. That is all I can say at the moment. I do not regret what happened, and I do not take full responsibility for it either. But I want to apologize for what happened. This town was destroyed, the inhabitants are all dead. And it is a sad thing to have to say. But it was necessary. For the sake of my sanity, it was necessary. May whatever powers that be, whatever forces that rule over us mortals, forgive me.

In this shell of a town, which was destroyed for my brother's pleasure, there may not be much evidence of what happened, or when. And so I will describe it to you. Every painful, agonizing moment I had to endure from watching the events unfold from a flowery hillside at the outskirts of the town.


It was before midnight, nearing 11.50, when me and my scouts reported the field clear, and the town silent. In another minute, the order for the attack was given by my brother, and the only sign of hesitance was mine. I am not a murderer, as the rest of my tribe. But there were rumors reaching us, from scouts of an allied tribe. One of their spies had overheard that the village was preparing an attack against my tribe. My brother would not let this rumor pass, and so on the eve of the full moon we responded to the threat on our existence.

When the attack began, it was quiet. As it was supposed to be. We infiltrated the streets of the town, silently made our way to the central square, a rotary path with a single hectagonal fountain gracing its center. I must admit, the craftsmanship of the fox and wolf statues in the fountain was masterful. I was quite disappointed that my brother ordered them destroyed.

From the fountain we separated into our five parties, each taking a route of attack. My group headed down the widest of the paths, which stretched down a ways, and then gave way to a field of flowers. My party began to disperse into the houses and shops lining the path, and soon there was only me and two others heading down to the field. And then, to my surprise, I noticed a young boy standing at the very end of the path, leaning against the wall. He seemed to be watching me.

I was surprised mainly by his calm. Here we were, three score werewolves, spreading through the village like a cloud of death, and he simply gazed at me, detached. I was unnerved, obviously. So I took my two remaining tribemates, and we went down the nearest side alley. Those two left, eager to kill, and I cautiously glanced down the path. And as I did, a girl no older than that boy I had seen, perhaps a little younger, ran past me. I wondered if she had seen me.

It seemed obvious the two were going to try and escape the massacre my tribe was executing. I was hesitant to let them go, as I had been hesitant about the attack in general, but I was not going to kill them. I especially would not kill that girl. She reminded me of a fairy tale my mother had told me. A tale every one of us had heard as a young child. It was a story of the great Queen of Lights, the crimson-haired goddess who watched over and protected all of those who gave of themselves. To me, this girl was that goddess. And so I was finally content on simply allowing the two to leave.

But it was my brother who, in his adrenaline-stoked rampage, I saw stalking after the girl. I looked back down the path to the boy. He caught the girl in his arms, lifted her over the last stones of the path, and led her to the flowery hill I witnessed the end of our murderous assault from. My brother licked the bloody claws of his right hand, losing himself in the hunt as he neared the end of the path. He broke into a run as I made the most daring decision of my life.

I dashed after him, hoping to catch him and cut short his deadly plans. I saw the boy on the hill, holding the Queen of Winds tightly against his chest, as if that alone could protect her from the death he surely knew was coming closer. That sight, of the boy and the girl sitting on the hill illuminated by the moonlight, was eerily similar to the child's tale my mother had told me. Near the middle of the story were the lines,

"And then Queen and Protector, on that scarlet night,
Sitting in the peace of flowers in full moon light,
Gazed at the stars to escape the dark man's plight.
But never could the Queen have hoped to be
Living in peace, for in harsh reality,
The evil of man is the sad majority."

My mother had added three more lines to the tale, on a night when I had asked her why, if we were so evil in majority, there was still a prevailing peace in our tribe. She told me,

"The Queen cries every night and day
For the one act of good that may
Save the lives that in evil's hands lay."

I knew I was taking that fairy tale too seriously. There is no way that the crimson-haired girl I saw is, or was, the Queen of Lights. But when I remembered those lines, I could not let them go. So I charged harder, and reached the edge of the path as my brother dragged his claw down the young boy's back. I saw the blood begin to flow from his body, and yet he was as still as he had been before my brother had reached him.

I saw the werewolf I called my brother, and saw him reach his claws for the girl. My memory lapses for a mere span of seconds at this point, but what I next remember is my own claws piercing my brother's neck, killing him almost instantly. His legs collapsed as he died, and two other werewolves came into the clearing to my side. Silently, I retracted my claws and let the body of my ruthless brother drop into the hands of the others, and I met their silent, questioning gazes with authority.

After a moment they left me standing there, and as I lowered my gaze to the girl whose life I had saved, I saw her begin to stir in the dying boy's eyes. I was nearly done changing myself back into a human, but I ducked down quickly, slipping down the shallow hillside to remain unnoticed. I sat at the bottom of that hill, on the side opposite the direction the girl was facing, and watched the werewolves carrying my dead brother as they reached the path.

One of the other groups had already set the village aflame, and my brother was tossed through the window of the nearest shop. The two werewolves looked back to me only once, but I saw their faces, knew they were marking me as a deadman. They turned back up the path and took off at a run. They disappeared into the smoke, and I resigned myself to watching the final demise of this village.

The flames crackled and sent embers shooting into the sky. I stared blankly at the building my brother's corpse lay in as the roof ignited. And I felt myself begin to tear up. I cried for nearly an hour, for the death and destruction that had fallen upon this innocent village. When I finally stopped my tears from flowing, the fire had already begun to die down. Many of the buildings were charred wrecks, and a good number of the stone foundations were crumbling.

I convinced myself then that the rumors we had heard were false. That there was no attack planned on my tribe, and my tribe had murdered an entire village based on an empty threat. I remembered a few hours later that we received the information from a tribe of werewolves allied to Cronois, and I realized they had only fed us that false rumor to hurt Aethon. I feel even worse now, as I write this.

Before I left the destroyed town, after I watched the sunrise from my spot on the hill, I checked on the girl and her dead protector. She was sleeping peacefully. I hope she is safe. But my tribe will be back soon, if they have not returned already, to clean up whatever loose ends need cleaning. If the girl is still alive, then I must believe there is hope for your kingdom. For that morning, when I left her, I found myself silently reciting the last lines of the fairy tale I had heard as a young child.

"In the morn following the deathly holocaust of evil
Both the Queen of Lights and the good of man live."

I am convinced now that the girl is the Queen of Lights from the story, and if she is still alive I will find her, or if not me then my son. And I will show the mark of the goddess mentioned in the tale from my youth. But until that day, I cannot reveal any more.

_+__


Aria reread the papers, another five times, as she sat in her room. "I don't know who wrote this," she said softly, to herself. "But I owe whoever it is my life. And yet, it is a werewolf I am pledging it to. Those murderous hounds... how could one have saved me?" She put the papers safely back into an envelope and slid it under her mattress. She switched her thoughts to those of her lost love, Andy, and cried herself to sleep that night.

In a tree two miles from Castle Aethon, Inyro took out his journal and opened to a folded page in the center. As he unfolded the page, memories of his father, murdered in a hunting accident, came to his mind. On the inside of the folded page, his father had written a children's tale. "The Queen of Lights", the only story Inyro had ever heard his father tell him since he had turned ten. He reread the entire tale, and sighed as he folded the page over again and closed the book. 'My father was right,' Inyro thought silently, not wanting to wake the nest of birds in the branch above him. 'The Queen of Lights is real. But how am I supposed to tell her that, if she hates me so much?'

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Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 1:34:16)

Chapter 14-- "Guidance of the Stars"

My father told me, back when I was just five years old, three years before I found out I was a werewolf, that there was something different about him - and my mother, for that matter. He told me fairy tales no one else my age had ever heard of. He had this strange 'sixth sense' that I had, when I got around to thinking about it, dismissed as a father's instinct. But if that were a father's instinct, why is it that he was so adept at hearing, seeing, smelling every little thing?

I came back to that idea recently, of my father, and came to the strangest conclusion - though it explains everything - that he must have been, as I am now, a werewolf. There is no other explanation. He must have had an amazing amount of control over it, though, because never once did he show any of his werewolf side. Not to me, not to anyone. But then, what of my mother? She died, I was told by my father, in childbirth. Is that true?

Did she know about him, my father, and his lycan side? Did she guess and, scared by the thought, run away and leave me alone with my father?

No, I shouldn't think about her. The last time I thought of why mother had left, I made my first transformation. My father, he had tears in his eyes. Were they tears of joy, to see me as much werewolf as he was? Were they tears of sadness?

Again, I got sidetracked. I can feel my mind growing restless though, now that I bring up these topics. Apparently, they are not so closed and proved as I thought. But on to why I am trying to write this journal - that reason being, of course, Aria. The Queen of Lights. I never would have guessed it, but it is true. I can't doubt it anymore. What I saw tonight, when I crept to see into her window... the sight was untoppable proof. I saw, on her naked neck, the mark of the goddess. It reflected bright silver and dull gold like my father told me, day in and day out.

My father... how did he die again? A hunting accident? Yes, there was a bullet hole through his chest. But what I remembered now, more than ever I could see it vividly, were the four long, deep gashes down his back. I took a look at the claws on my left hand, werewolf in all its lethal glory, and the raking gashes I can make with these claws could easily be the deadly slashes on my father's dead body.

But why am I thinking of all this now? No, it makes no sense! I need to focus on the Queen, the one symbol of faith my father instilled in me. And to find her real, it not only breaks my heart, but also makes me feel as if I have finally fulfilled my father's true wishes. He told me that I would, should I ally myself with Aethon, one day discover the truth.

Wait, I remember his words...

"Inyro, son," he said, beckoning me to sit next to him. I happily obliged, as every time my father and I were together so close I could almost feel mother sitting on my other side, keeping me warm in cool nights. "Inyro," he started again, and smiled down on me as I watched and waited, silently, for what would be next. "Do you remember that story I told you? The one of the Queen of Lights? No?" he asked as he saw my face. It had been nearly a month since he had told it, and that last telling was before my first transformation.

"Well, then let me tell it to you again..." He lifted my eyes to gaze at the stars as he told the tale. I saw the bright dots in that clear sky spin with my imagination, and form the image of the Queen of Lights, that beautiful crimson-haired goddess I so loved to hear about. I saw her, happy, sad, helping, hurting as she was when her Protector had fallen in his sacred duty.

The story ended the same way as always, or so I had expected. But what my father next said surprised me, and awed me. "I met that Queen of Lights," he said, reminiscing slightly, his smile of nostalgia and contented happiness. "She is truly as beautiful as I have told you, and moreso when she is happy or at peace, I am sure."

What did he mean? I asked him as much, and he ruffled my hair when he continued.

"I was with her," he said, "when a great evil had rent the goddess' Protector from her." I was in such an amazed disbelief I neglected to ask who - or what - this evil was. Instead, I drew myself into an excited kneel, pawing at my father's arm. Pawing, I remember that action clearly. Back when I was still so young, I would live for weeks as a werewolf.

So my father chuckled at how enraptured he had me. "Hold your calm," he said playfully, "before you accidentally start howling again."

I couldn't help but nip lightly at his hand. He knew it was an accident. But still he continued, "So I fought this great evil, to protect the Queen. And I won, a silent and pyrrhic victory yes, but victory nonetheless."

And this is when he turned more serious than I had seen him in all of the month I could remember. He turned his gaze from me to the sky above us. "Have faith, Inyro, son. Faith in me, faith in the Queen of Lights, faith in yourself. But most of all, have faith in the good of man." I had no clue what he meant, and he saw as much. So he pointed to the millions of stars and said, "Inyro, son, when that sky goes black for eight nights straight, then the goodness of man and all life is gone, and the Queen of Lights is dead."

Dead! But I could not doubt that the way my father said it was so sincere, and so grave. No, I would not believe it! But he turned to my disbelieving face and said, softly, lovingly, "You must promise me, Inyro, son. Promise me that until such a day comes where the night sky is pure black, and has been for eight days, that you will seek out the Queen of Lights and without hesitation pledge yourself to her. Promise me."

I did what I could, but I did so solemnly. I promised my father that very night, that very moment, with all of the strength and love and passion and good inside me, that I would find the Queen of Lights. And I promised with equal emotion that I would pledge my life to her. And my father was happy.

My father - it was the last time I saw him genuinely happy. For the next two weeks he was nervous, so nervous. And then he left early one day, left me in a tree and told me he would be right back. He never came back, and the next memory of him I had was of his pale, dead body being carried carefully from the woods on a white steel stretcher, surrounded by men with guns and knives and mean looks on their faces.

I cried that night, and the whole next day and night. But when I let the tears die away, I vowed twice that I would keep my promise to my father. And, as a separate vow, told myself that it was my being a werewolf that killed my father. And I kept myself from that monstrous appearance ever since, until it began to take me over. And when it did that, I was powerless to stop it.

But now is different. I questioned my past, and my werewolf side has come in very handy recently. It brought me to meeting that girl Sarah, whom I still think of every moment of my free time, hoping she is safe and well cared for. And it has increased my already well-developed strength and speed tenfold. I scale trees with such ease, and silently. I can crack through boulders without injury to myself. And I have in general come to like my animalistic side again.

So I sit here on a fairly thick branch, gazing down at the beautiful Queen of Lights. I am entranced, if that is the right word, by her goddess' mark. It is only a shame that she herself cannot see it. And then, as if from a dream, I hear a voice so familiar I cannot recognize it at first. "Inyro," it calls, silently to all others but to me, where it resounds like thunder in my head. "Inyro, son."

My god, oh! My father cannot be talking to me! "Inyro, son," I hear again.

"What is it!" I shout back, silently crying out.

"You have found her, Inyro my son."

I can feel my eyes tearing up. It is truly the voice of my father! "I promised it to you, father."

"And so you have kept it."

His voice is so gentle and sweet that the water falls from my eyes with unexpected suddenness. "I promised..."

"Now is the second part of your vow, Inyro, son." I know immediately what he means, but I cannot fathom it at the same time. "You must pledge yourself to her."

I nearly just wiped away my tears, but instead chose to let them flow. "How, father?" I ask. "She is repulsed by me!"

"And that is the fault of my brother's wild evil. But his evil is dead, as he is. And you live still. So things can change!"

Too overjoyed to comprehend what he was saying, I let the word brother pass through deaf ears. "How, father?"

"Show her these stars I sit amongst," he said. "Show her me, and show her that her Protector is up here as well, watching her and loving her as he has done for all these long and silent years."

I try to respond, now, but my father's voice has gone. And his ear as well. So I will sit here and cry. And I will close my journal on this page, here and now. I need to think for a night.

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/27/2008 1:35:40)

Chapter 15-- "Queen of Lights"

Aria woke early with the rise of the sun, and as usual the sunrise was predominantly scarlet when she gazed at it. She watched the nature light into day around her, for a while, and then cheerfully dressed. She grabbed up her bathing cloth as she opened her door, and saw Ryan leaving his room with similar intentions. Down the hall yet another door opened, and Sarah stepped out with her own bathing towel. "What a coincidence," the crimson-haired girl said softly. "That blonde positively reeks of the smells of a werewolf."

Ryan seemed to have heard, but he said nothing after the traditional "Good morning." He waited for his sister to catch up to him, though Aria had already begun to walk down the hall. Again he said a hearty good morning, and the two turned to follow Aria's quickly disappearing figure. "Do you think Aria seems a little different today?" Ryan asked his sister.

Sarah turned to the boy. "I just got here, how should I know?"

"Right, sorry," he said, and the girl patted his back playfully. "But she is acting pretty distant."

A voice spoke up from behind the two. "I haven't seen Aria like that since the last time I was here."

Ryan and Sarah spun around to see Inyro walking slowly a few paces behind them. "Really?" Ryan asked. "Why's that?"

"I have no clue, ask Aria," Inyro said. He then turned to Sarah. "And good morning to you, Sleeping Beauty."

Ryan gave his sister a confused look, and she sighed as she explained, "Inyro's been calling me 'Sleeping Beauty' ever since he tried to wake me up before one."

"In the morning?" Ryan asked, astonished.

"The afternoon," Inyro said bluntly, and Sarah blushed lightly. Ryan gave a nod of understanding.

As the three walked, Ryan took Inyro's presence as an opportunity to bombard the werewolf with questions. Sarah watched on with a growing smile as her brother's enthusiasm began to irk Inyro. Ryan was in the middle of asking whether werewolves could be killed with silver bullets when the boy snapped. "Listen, Ryan, I know you're addicted to werewolves, but why are you asking me? I don't know the answers to half of your questions, and yet the things you're asking me keep getting more complicated and vague. Seriously, why do you want to know if a silver bullet can kill me?"

"Maybe he wants to try it out himself, and figures he should ask first," Sarah suggested.

Inyro rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands in his pockets as Ryan dropped his questioning. When they reached the baths, which were situated directly across the hall from each other, Inyro and Ryan waited for Sarah to leave before entering the male baths. After changing into swim trunks, the two boys slid into the comfortable heat of the natural hot spring water. "So how does the princess know you so well, Inyro?" Ryan asked.

"A tree, a burnt-out village nearby, and a dead body being carted from the woods."

"Huh?"

Inyro shook his head and dropped down into the water until only his head was dry. "It's a long story, Ryan."

"I have time," the boy said with a shrug. He watched as Inyro transformed into his werewolf form, and silently admired the creature he had always thought was a legend.

"Fine, I'll tell you." Inyro sighed as he told his story. The princess, walking with Aria and trailing behind the men who had been carrying Inyro's dead father from the forest, had stopped near the tree he was in. Breeze saw him, in his werewolf form, but said nothing as she and Aria left. Inyro had then lived out the next fourteen months on his own, when the werewolf in him took control of his body one night and sent him scavenging near Castle Aethon. The werewolf saw the princess strolling around in the woods, alone, and dropped from its perch to intimidate her.

Breeze, coolly, stood her ground and told the werewolf that she recognized him. Inyro growled deeply, but the girl only giggled. When the werewolf rushed forward, claws ready to attack, the princess began to show some fear, and the fright in the girl's face shocked Inyro back into control of his body. He stopped short and stepped back, changing into his human shape as the young Breeze calmed. As he was about to leave, the princess walked up to him and hugged him, resting her head on his back.

Breeze told the boy that she knew he was living alone, and asked him to come into the castle with her. After a few minutes he accepted her request, and the two walked into Castle Aethon, talking about the boy's being a werewolf.

"Wow," Ryan said. "I didn't know about your father. Sorry."

Inyro shrugged. "Your sis told me all about your family, and I honestly feel worse for you."

"She told you about our parents?"

"She didn't shut up." Inyro glanced over at Ryan for a moment. "I see it runs in the family."

"Ha, ha."

"I'll be here all month," the werewolf said, smiling through the steam.

Ryan sighed and picked himself out of the bath, reaching down for his towel. Inyro followed a moment later, and the two dried off in silence. As they were dressing, however, Ryan again took his opportunity to ask, "So, Inyro, why don't you actually live here? The princess seems to like you well enough, and it's not like there isn't enough room..."

"I don't know, Ryan," the werewolf replied. "I guess- Well, I'm used to living in the forest. And it just feels like home out there."

"Sleeping in a tree feels like home?"

Inyro shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose it does." He turned to Ryan and took a turn at asking his own questions. "What's Aria like?"

"What?"

"What's she like? Is she as distant and jumpy to anyone else, or is it just me? And what about her personality? Likes and dislikes?"

Ryan blinked. "What's with the sudden interest in Aria?"

"I- It's nothing. Just curious, you know?"

"Okay..." Ryan began to talk as the two left the baths, Inyro listening intently.

The two had been walking down the hallway, back toward the main entrance to the castle, when a voice behind them caused Inyro to jump and Ryan to freeze in embarrassment. "I had no clue you knew so much about me, Ryan. And I never would have thought you would just give it all away to a werewolf."

Ryan spun around, face growing red as Aria's glare drilled holes through him. He opened his mouth to speak, faltered, and fell quiet. Inyro, trying not to grow angry, sighed and turned to the redhead. "Aria, listen-"

"No, you listen. I don't want you - or any werewolf, for that matter - to ever come back. Your kind killed Andy, destroyed my entire hometown, and disappeared. I was glad we found one of them dead the next day. He's probably the one who killed Andy. He-" Aria paused, seeing tears in Inyro's eyes. "What's wrong with you all of a sudden?"

"That werewolf you found dead, he killed the werewolf that killed your boyfriend."

"And how do you know?"

"The werewolf you found was my father." With that, Inyro walked past Aria, his pace quickening to a full-out run as he rushed to the courtyard.

As the boy disappeared through the doorway, Ryan shook off the shock that had settled over him. "Am I missing something?" he asked, to no one.

Aria turned to him, somewhat stunned by Inyro's confession, and said, "I think he was trying to tell me something important..." Her eyes grew wide, and she threw a hand across her mouth as she realized that Inyro's father - whom she had just spoken so meanly of - had saved her life and called her a goddess. "I - I have to go," she said, and spun on her heels after Inyro.

"...Okay then." Ryan watched Aria hurry out into the courtyard before he turned in the direction of Ewan's room, where he was sure he would find Breeze. 'I have no clue what just happened,' he thought to himself, 'but maybe the princess would.'

Outside, Aria panned the courtyard quickly before she rushed in. Inyro was nowhere to be seen, but the redhead could hear heavy footsteps to her right. She turned, and saw the boy running down the stone path surrounding the outside edge of the grass. Rushing after him, she took a moment to clear her mind. Thoughts of the papers she had read, concerning the night Andy was killed, flooded her brain, and the phrase 'goddess of lights' popped up nearly as frequently.

"Inyro!" She felt herself pushing her speed to keep the boy in her sights. "Inyro, wait! I'm sorry!"

But Inyro kept running, and stopped only when he had reached the stone wall of the castle. Aria caught up to him as he cried against the stone, pounding his fist on the wall in anger and frustration. The redhead extended her hand tentatively and, as she laid in on his shoulder, said, "Inyro, I'm sorry. I- just have..."

The girl's voice trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. Inyro turned slowly, and met Aria's gaze with one of detachment. Coldly, he said, "And when your soldiers had attacked a neighboring tribe less than a month earlier, what do you think my tribe's reaction was? We were afraid. Of you, of humans. But we're not that different from you. We both have emotions, and we, specifically us two, have lost someone close.

"My father told me when I was young that I would meet you one day. He told me to pledge my life to protect you. To never leave your side. But he never told me that you would hate me so much that even when you tried to comfort me, putting a hand on my shoulder, you shuddered. Was that disgust? Repulsion of what I am, Aria? Or were you just happy to see me?"

Abashed, Aria looked away. The silence between them grew stifling, and Inyro's steady stare bore holes through her forehead. When she was unable to stand the growing awkwardness, she looked up and met his gaze. "How am I supposed to get over my fears?" she asked, voice quiet. "Your father was killed by another werewolf. My love was stolen by a mons- a bloodthirsty animal."

Inyro stiffened, having understood full well what Aria had meant to say. Silently he pushed past her, walking slowly toward an old behemoth of a tree standing near the stone wall. The girl watched as he morphed into a werewolf and easily scaled the thick, graying bark of the tree, tears forming in her eyes as he pulled himself onto the lowest branch. He continued to climb until he was nearly lost in the foliage of the upper branches, and sat up against the trunk as he cried into his hands.

Teardrops fell from the old tree, landing softly on the grass below. Aria stopped at the base of the trunk and leaned on it, allowing herself to free the emotion she had been to afraid to show in front of the boy. Her sobs, muffled by her hands, expressed her pain of remembering Andy, her sorrow for upsetting Inyro so. The few minutes she spent against that tree, shaded from the bright sun, felt like an eternity, and as she swayed on her feet she turned her head up. The boy still sat, high in the tree, and would not answer even when she called to him.

"I'll stand here all day," Aria called. "And all night if I must. But- I think I'm ready to stop being afraid."

Inyro sat, unresponsive, and with a sigh Aria sat as well, all the time watching the boy.

Inside, Ryan had just passed the dining room when a young girl, no older than ten, rushed out. Her jet black hair whipped around, nearly hitting the boy as he ducked back, and she took off down the hallway without seeing him. "Excuse me," he called to her, and as she turned to him she slowed significantly.

"Can I help you, sir?" the young girl asked, walking briskly back to him.

Ryan stuttered, taken aback by the girl's immediate response. He cleared his throat and said, "Well, uhh- I just wanted to know why you were in such a rush."

The girl's brown eyes lit up as she said, in a whisper, "Don't tell anyone, but Mister Torbold said I could take today off."

"Take today off? You're already working, at such a young age?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, sincerely confused. "I'm already nine-and-a-half. Of course I'm working."

Ryan blinked, surprised, "What do you do?"

"I'm one of the servants, mister. That's what the gray is for." She pointed to her dark gray shorts and stared at them for a moment. "I mean, I don't wanna be a servant, but my Mama's a servant, and my Papa's a soldier, so I can't be much more."

Ryan knelt down, so he was level with the young girl, and put a hand on her arm comfortingly. "You can be anything you want," he said. He glanced over his shoulder quickly before turning back to her and whispering, "Don't tell anyone, but I wasn't even born here. And now I found out I can make magic." Concentrating hard, he created a small sliver of golden light in his right hand. He smiled as he saw the radiating awe from the girl's face. "See? Anything is possible."

"Do you think I could make magic too, mister?"

Thinking for a moment, Ryan sighed and shook his head. "I don't know, but I know who might. Come on."

Ryan stood and, taking the young girl by the hand, led her down the hallway on his way to Ewan and the Princess.

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/28/2008 0:27:33)

Chapter 16-- "Hierarchy"

"So, you've never left the castle your whole life?" Ryan asked the young servant girl at his side, astonished. "There's a whole world out there. I mean, I haven't gone farther than New Jersey, and that's still pretty far from here."

"What's New Jersey?"

"Oh, right. I don't think the people here talk about the different states. Umm..." Unable to think of a way to describe the Garden State, he shrugged. "I dunno, you'd have to see it for yourself, I guess."

The young girl gave Ryan an excited look. "Will you bring me there?"

"Maybe," he said, laughing lightly. "Just maybe. But first, I want you to meet a couple friends of mine." The two stopped outside a blank, oak door. "Do you know who's on the other side of this door?"

"No..." The servant thought for a moment. "This part of the castle is kinda far from where most people are. I dunno."

"You wanna find out?"

"Yeah!"

Ryan chuckled, the girl's enthusiasm overwhelming. He slowly turned the doorknob and, knocking thrice as he opened the door, stepped in. The young servant, glancing around the door, fell to her knees immediately when she saw Breeze sitting next to Ewan's bed. "Good morning, Mistress Breeze," she said submissively.

"Good morning," the princess said. Then, turning to Ryan, she asked, "Ryan, who is this?"

"Uhh..." the boy felt himself growing embarrassed, having forgot to ask the girl her name. He glanced at her quickly, then back to Breeze.

"So, you forgot to ask?" She giggled when Ryan nodded. "Oh, what am I going to do with you?" She turned to the young girl, who was still kneeling with her head bowed. "You can stand."

"Thank you, Mistress."

Breeze smiled. "Seeing as my friend Ryan here forgot to get your name, I think I'll ask for it."

"My name is Gaia, Mistress."

"And why is it that you came here?"

The young girl flashed a glance at Ryan, but even after he tried to encourage her she remained speechless, unsure if she was being smart. When she did not answer, the boy spoke up. "She's a little shy," he said. "But she happens to be a servant here."

"I can see that." Breeze gave the girl another look. "She's young."

"Nine and a half, Mistress," the servant said, softly.

Ryan picked up his end of the conversation. "She wants to be something else."

"Does she, now?" The princess settled her gaze on Gaia. "What, may I ask, does she want to be?"

Ewan sighed from his bed and sat up. "She could be a mage," he said, voice dull. His wounds had not completely healed, and he had recently fallen ill as well. "Her heart's shining... brighter than anyone I've ever seen."

The boy's comment caused both Breeze and Ryan to stare at Gaia. The young girl, feeling the eyes on her, became uncomfortable. "What?" she asked, nervous. "Did I do something wrong? If I did, I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be," Breeze said, smiling brightly at her. "You did well to come, Gaia. You don't need to be a servant."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Thank you, Mistress Breeze!" Hopping with delight, Gaia turned to Ryan. "Did you hear, Ryan? You were right, I can be something else!"

The boy smiled as he gazed down at her. The princess, laughing happily, said, "Go run along now, Gaia. Tell your parents that you will need some blue clothing instead of your gray."

With another joy-filled hop, the young girl rushed from the room. As her footsteps died away down the hallway, Ryan turned back to Breeze and sighed. "Well, I'm happy for her."

"Me too. How did you two meet, anyway?"

"She almost ran into me, actually. I was on my way here, and - Oh, that's right. Is there anything going on between Aria and Inyro?"

Taken aback slightly, the princess shook her head.

"That's weird. They were just arguing a little bit ago, and then they ran out into the courtyard."

"Do you remember what they were arguing about?"

Ryan thought back to the altercation and described what he could. As he finished, Breeze nodded slowly. "I think I need to go talk to them," she said, standing. "Do you mind waiting here with Ewan until I come back?"

"Sure."

Breeze walked briskly from the room, and Ewan turned to Ryan. Smiling weakly, the young boy waited for him to close the door and sit before he spoke. "You're that guy who came here from outside, right?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"The only one who I've ever seen wearing clothes like the ones you were in was Aria, and she said they were to fit in outside. So she wouldn't be noticed during her missions."

Ryan remembered something from the story he had been writing before meeting the girl. "What type of missions?"

"They won't tell me," Ewan said. "I'm not old enough to know. But I can guess. I mean, Blaine came back from his mission with blood all over him. He was on an assassination, wasn't he?"

Ryan shook his head. "I don't know."

"Then why are you thinking so hard to hide the truth?" The young boy smiled at the expression of confusion and surprise on Ryan's face. "I can feel that, too. Every time the princess lies, every time Aria lies, I can feel it. I can see it."

"And they don't know?"

"No. You won't tell them, will you?"

"No."

Ewan nodded. "Finally, the truth." With a sigh, he laid his head on his pillow. "Do you want to know what I think is past the trees of this forest?"

"What?"

"I think there's a world of people, just like me. People who talk like me and walk like me, who eat and drink like me. But they don't want to know me, because of who I am. Do you think that's weird?"

Ryan shook his head and pondered the young boy's statements. "You can't be just a kid. You're too philosophical for someone who hasn't undergone puberty."

"That's not an answer."

"I know." Ryan stood and walked around his chair. Without looking at Ewan he continued. "I can't answer that. You're too general. Yes, there is a world of people out there, who in a basic sense are just like you, or me. But there are so many things that make us different. From where we were brought up, to who we befriend. And, especially, by what we want to accomplish."

"I want to help."

"What do you mean, help?"

Ewan sat up again and turned to let his legs dangle off the edge of the bed. The hems of his light blue pajamas extended just barely from under the covers. "I want to help everyone. I want to help you. The princess. That girl, Gaia, the servant. And everyone else."

"That's impossible," Ryan said, facing the child again. "You can't physically help everyone."

"How do you know? Just because you can't, you don't know who can. I can. I know I can. And I will, too." He saw the older boy still smirking. "You don't believe me?"

"It can't be done, Ewan. I'm sorry."

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry too. But maybe I can do what you can't. I already know your limits, because I can see them. But I can't see my own limits. I look at my hands and see the healing magic I can use. I look at my feet and know that I can go wherever I want. And I look at you and know that I can lead you. That I can heal you. I can help you, and the princess, and the little servant girl. I can do it to anyone, for anyone, anywhere."

Ryan was silent, absorbing the boy's words. As the silence in the room grew deafening, a knock on the door alerted the two to Gaia's return. "Umm... excuse me, sir, but where is Mistress Breeze?"

"She's left for a moment, Gaia." Ryan thought he saw a flinch on the girl's face when he spoke her name, but he let it pass. "Why?"

She began to cry, dropping to her knees as she let out her emotion. The cold stone floor below her grew damp from her tears, and Ryan knelt at her side. "What's wrong, Gaia?" he asked, this time sure that the girl had reacted strongly to her name.

"My- my-" she started to say, hands grabbing fistfuls of the boy's shirt in her distress. "My parents- told me-"

"What did they tell you?"

"They- d-don't want me... anymore."

Ryan laid a hand on her shoulder, sympathizing with her. "Why would they say that?"

Gaia only cried louder, and as she wept Ewan lowered himself carefully to the floor. He shuffled over to the girl, and placed his hand on her head, his bare feet becoming soaked in the puddle of tears he stood in. "I want to help," he said softly. "Will you let me?"

The girl nodded, silently, forcing herself to stop crying. She gazed up to him and met his eyes. The boy's chocolate-brown eyes flared with passion and strength, while the girl's hazel eyes showed her vulnerability. Ewan helped her stand, and hugging her tightly he promised, "I'll help you. I will always help you."

"Thank you," Gaia said, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you."

Ryan shook his head silently, and he followed the two out of the room. Gaia led the boys, stumbling along in a state of disarray, to her family's room. As they entered into the room, they were met with the sight of two middle-aged men talking fervently with a similarly aged woman. Ewan stepped forward boldly, and caught the attention of the lady instantly. The men, deep in conversation, were oblivious of his presence until he spoke. "Excuse me," he said, eyes fixed on who he supposed was Gaia's mother.

"What is it, boy?" one of the men asked, roughly, as he spun around to see the child. Noticing the blue of Ewan's clothing, the man's eyes flew wide open, and he was quickly apologizing.

"I don't need you saying sorry, to me," the young boy said. "But I would like to know what you did to Gaia?"

The middle-aged woman, flipping her wispy brown hair away from her face, crossed slightly wrinkled hands across her gray-shirted chest. "Who are you talking about?"

"Your daughter."

The lady laughed haughtily, her open mouth revealing yellowed teeth. "I have no daughter," she said sharply, aiming her comment not at the young mage but at the girl beside him.

Gaia shrunk back, hiding behind Ewan's cape, and the boy grew angry. A fireball appeared in his left hand in his rage, and he flung it to the floor. "Why are you so cruel?" he asked, shouting in his anger.

The adults, though much older and taller than the young boy, retreated a few paces in fear. "We aren't being cruel," one of the men said, raising his gloved hands in a gesture of peace. "Honest, we aren't."

"So what are you, then?"

"Honest, we don't mean the girl any harm. We was just afraid that she was doing something wrong," the man said. "She come in here and say she's gotta get blue clothes. I told her she needs to leave and not come back till she bring the princess herself with proof."

Ewan glanced at Gaia, a new fireball growing in his hand. "You're lying," he said softly. "Never lie to a mage." He raised the flames threateningly, and the gloved man dropped to his knees in desperation.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, honest I am," he said. "We was trying to tell you the truth, but you come and attack us and threaten us with your magic."

Ryan stepped up to the young mage's side, laying a hand on his shoulder as a hint to calm down. As the young boy let the fireball in his hand disappear, he crossed his arms impatiently. "I don't see why they shouldn't get punished. That's what the princess would do, for lying."

"I know," Ryan said. He turned to the kneeling man and, his eyes cold, spoke with authority. "If you want to start telling the truth, then start talking."

"Yessir," the man said, standing quickly and backing up to the other adults. "Well, the girl come and tell us that the princess say she can get the blue clothes. We told her to shut up or we get mad, but she keep saying it. So Martha here, she say 'You no part of this family, you can't stop lying.' And the girl, she left. Go runnin' off and cry."

Ryan, shaking his head, turned around and began walking from the room. "Ewan, Gaia, let's go. We can go tell Mistress Breeze of your plight."

"No, please!" Martha said, rushing forward and grabbing the teen's shirt. "Please, don't go telling the princess."

The woman's grip was weak and shaky, making it easy for Ryan to slip out of. The three left the room and turned, toward the courtyard, but nearly ran into Breeze as she came storming through a nearby door. "Excuse me, princess," the teen said, bowing slightly out of respect as he had promised to do when in the company of those other than Aria and Ewan. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Ryan," she said, calming herself. "I- sorry for almost hitting you there."

"Apology accepted." Ryan glanced over his shoulder, and was happy to see the three adults standing in the doorway, watching the group warily. "Mistress Breeze, Gaia seems to have a problem."

"Oh?" The princess crouched down so she was on the young girl's level. "And what would that be?" she asked, noting the child's red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.

Silently, Gaia pointed toward the adults down the hallway, and Ewan told the princess what had occurred. "And they even lied to me," the boy said.

Breeze stood and, Ryan at her side, strode calmly over to the three worried men and woman. "I have been told of your actions. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"Well, Mistress Breeze," the gloved man started, kneeling and bowing low, "we thought the girl was lying. She's a child, as you know, Mistress."

"Am I a child, then?" Breeze asked, crossing her arms in her impatience. "When I asked for you to speak, I asked for a reasonable excuse."

The three adults exchanged worried glances. Martha spoke, finally. "Mistress Breeze, the mages only began accusing us. We tried to explain, but-"

"From what I have been told, you lied to my close friends." The princess was growing angry. "And now you lie directly to my face. What other crime do you wish to commit?" The three fell silent. "Very well then. Remain in this room. A messenger will come by this evening to report your punishment."

Ryan and Breeze turned without waiting for an answer, returning to where Ewan stood, comforting Gaia. "Thank you, Mistress," the young girl said.

"You are very welcome, Gaia. Now, Ryan, will you take her to Robina?" He nodded, and the princess continued. "Ewan, you should be in bed. But seeing as you are up and energetic as normal, I suppose we should go to the dining hall." She turned to Ryan. "Meet us in the dining hall for dinner, will you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Princess Breeze and Ewan turned down the hallway toward the dining hall, while Ryan brought Gaia to the tailor. When he opened the bright, blue wooden door, he saw Robina and Archie fighting, as always. The well built Robina tossed a pair of gray jeans at the old man, screaming curses and threats. Ryan laughed loudly, catching both tailors' attention. "Oh, no, continue. Don't let me stop you."

"Ryan," Robina said, her face reddening as she found herself embarrassed. "Why are you here?"

"My friend Gaia needs some blue," he said, pushing the young girl forward gently. "Can you find something for her?"

Robina nodded, and took Gaia by the hand. "Come on, let's go get you something nice."

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/28/2008 0:31:29)

Chapter 17-- "As Night Falls..."

Ryan followed Robina into the far right corner of the large, department-store size room, and glanced lazily at the many shirts and pants lying haphazardly on the tables. He imagined the piles of multi-colored clothes, somewhat organized as they were, in a JC Penny back near his home and what chaos the disorderly state of things would bring. Chuckling to himself, he could almost see shoppers searching valiantly through the mountains of clothing for what they needed. "How do you keep it all organized?" he wanted to ask, but thought better of himself and remained quiet.

Gaia, skipping along happily at Robina's side, viewed the mess of clothes as a wonderland. "I've never actually been in here before," she said in awe, taking in the different colors and materials. "Who gets to wear white? I like white."

"Only the princess and her closest friends can wear that," Robina said. "But you get to wear blue. That's pretty cool, right?"

Gaia nodded, checking the older girl's clothes only to notice both white and blue on her person. The girl's orange robe was open slightly at the top, revealing a blue tube top fit tightly over a white tee-shirt. "You wear both?" the young girl asked, in awe.

"Huh?" Robina glanced down and, seeing the opening, felt her face redden deeper. Ryan was still behind her, and she had not told the boy of her friendship with the princess. "Yeah, I do. Me and the princess have known each other for a long time."

"How long?" the child asked.

"Since she was born, I guess. That's... seventeen years, six months, and eight days now."

Gaia's eyes went wide, and Ryan raised an eyebrow at the girl's exactness. "What're you, her personal clock?" he asked. The girl muttered something under her breath, her chocolate-brown hair muffling her words further. "What?"

"I might as well be," Robina said, turning to face the boy with somewhat cold eyes. "She doesn't treat me like much, even though we're-" She stopped abruptly, face growing a still deeper scarlet as she spun around. "Anyway, Gaia, what type of shirt do you want? We have long sleeve, short sleeve, sleeveless..."

Ryan let his mind drift off of the current conversation as he contemplated the girl's unfinished statement. 'What was she not telling me?' he wondered silently. 'And how does she know Breeze so well?' He watched blankly as Gaia, like a child in a candy store, began pointing at different styles of shirts and pants, wanting some of everything. Robina, enraptured by the child's enthusiasm, put her overworking mind to the side.

Ryan and Gaia left Robina a near half hour later, arms filled with shirts, pants, shorts, dresses, vests, socks, and even some headbands of varying shades of blue and green. As the two walked in the direction of the dining hall, the boy took some of the child's load. "Are you sure you're carrying enough, there?" a voice said from behind them.

Ryan turned to see Sarah, grinning wide, and he sighed. "You wanna take some of this?"

"Nah, can't. I'm actually going with some guy named Blaine back into society. He promised to take me shopping." The girl winked. "I have this guy wrapped around my pinky so tight... well, you'll see." With that, Sarah turned and walked away, waving back.

"Who's that?" Gaia asked.

Ryan shook his head. "That's my sister," he said. "She's only been here a day and she's already dating again. Damn."

The two continued walking and, as they reached the large oaken doors of the dining hall the child stopped. "Where are we going to put these clothes?" she asked. "Mister Torbold doesn't like it when I bring things that don't belong."

"You don't need to worry about that," a servant standing behind the door said. "Me and my partner will take them to your quarters." The boy, barely fifteen, and his similarly aged friend took the clothes from Ryan and Gaia, and took off down the hall.

"Wow," Ryan said. "I've never seen this place so packed." He gazed around the room, seeing dozens of the tables surrounded by people of all ages. He was unable to see Breeze or Ewan, however, and in his frustration he called over one of the waiting servants.

"Yes, sir?" the lady asked, her gray hair matching the shade of her shirt.

"Would you happen to know where the princess is sitting, ma'am?"

"Yes, can I ask what business you have with her?"

Ryan smiled at the elderly lady. "She invited me and my young friend to dinner."

The servant bustled off, leaving the two standing near the door. When she came back a moment later, her smile was considerably brighter. "This way," she said, motioning for Ryan and Gaia to follow. She led the two through a maze of tables to a section of tables near the kitchen. "Right over there, sir," she said, pointing out Breeze and Ewan.

Ryan walked over, Gaia tight to his side, and stood behind the princess as she spoke to Ewan. Halfway through her talking, however, Breeze's hand strayed back and found the boy's. She gripped it lightly. "What took you so long, Ryan?"

"Sorry, Mistress, we were held up at the doors for a moment while we searched you out." Ryan sat on the princess' right, Gaia across from him. "So, are we too late to order?"

"Of course not," Breeze said. "We waited for you to arrive." As she spoke, she lifted a hand just high enough for the servants near the kitchen to see.

One of the waiters was at the table quickly, and bowed low before introducing herself as Kristen. "Can I get you anything, Mistress?" she asked pleasantly, her light blue eyes focused on the princess.

"Torbold knows what I prefer," Breeze said, smiling lightly at the servant.

Kristen turned then to Gaia, and though it took her a moment she recognized the child. "Gaia, what are you doing here? If Master Torbold sees you..."

"It's okay," Breeze said, laying a hand on the servant's arm. "She's with me tonight, and she'll be training with my close friends Aria and Ryan beginning tomorrow. A messenger reported this to Torbold an hour ago, I believe."

"I apologize for speaking out of place," Kristen said suddenly, again bowing low. Her wavy blonde hair fell over her face as she bowed, and as she stood she smiled at the young girl. "What can I get you, Gaia?"

Gaia grinned. "I always wanted a big plate of spaghetti..."

"Consider it done," the servant said, nodding. She turned to Ewan. "Sir?"

"I'll have some spaghetti too," the boy said. "Please."

Kristen nodded, smiling. She turned to Ryan. "And for you?"

"I'll have whatever the princess has," he said. The servant smiled and walked briskly to the kitchen. "So, Ewan, why were you staring at her?"

All eyes turned to the young mage, who sighed and dropped his gaze to the table. "I don't know," he said finally. "She looked... funny. Kinda like that guy who came here yesterday. You know, the one who wears the outsider clothes."

"Inyro?" Ryan asked, speculating.

Ewan nodded vigorously. "Yeah," he said. "She looks just like Inyro."

Breeze and Ryan exchanged glances, both thinking that the servant may be hiding the same mythical secret as Inyro. The conversation was left alone, however, and dialogue shifted to Gaia's explanation of the tailors' room. The meals came out quickly, two plates piled high with a perfect, slightly bronzed spaghetti topped with a bright red pasta sauce for the two youngest eaters, and identical steaks for the princess and Ryan, served with a loaded baked potato and french fries.

"Wow, I didn't expect this from you, Mistress," Ryan said, admiring his plate.

Breeze giggled. "What did you expect? A small salad perhaps? That dainty food that your girls eat outside of Aethon?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so."

"That's not nearly enough to satisfy my tastes, Ryan. You should know that, seeing as you know everything about me in your book."

"In my defense, princess, I never spoke about your eating habits."

"I suppose not," she said, laughing. "Well, now you can."

Ryan shrugged. "That is," he said, "if I ever care to write it again. I mean, it's so much better being able to live it." He smiled at the princess, and she returned the gesture. "I'd take this over my stories any day."

The two children exchanged glances, shrugged, and dove into their plates. Breeze and Ryan gazed at each other silently for another moment before they too turned to their food. The meal passed for the most part in silence, the occupants of the table too busy with their respective dinner to take time talking. Breaking the mutual silence, from time to time, was the servant Kristen.

As the dinner came to a close, Kristen having just lifted away Gaia's half-eaten plate, Breeze motioned for the girl to return to the table after disposing of the food. When the servant reached the princess' side, she bowed low and asked, as she had been taught, "What does her Mistress want?"

Breeze waited for a few moments, studying the servant in the relative silence of the large dining hall. With most of the diners gone, the only noise remaining came from the kitchen, and the princess could make out a range of different voices from Torbold's booming orders to servants' calling and shouting. Still the princess waited, and Kristen's face began to redden from the silent appraisal she was receiving, not only from the princess but from Ryan as well.

"Does her Mistress require anything?" the servant asked, her voice low and almost lost as a metallic clang rang out from the open kitchen door.

"Yes," Breeze said, finally. "Two things, actually."

Kristen nodded and straightened up, turning to face the princess and wait for her orders. Again, however, the white-haired girl had fallen quiet. The servant felt the awkwardness return much sooner, and she dropped her eyes to the cold, beige stone floor near the princess' feet.

Breeze spoke again. "Kristen, is it?"

"Yes, Mistress Breeze."

"How old are you, Kristen?"

"I am twenty, Mistress."

Breeze nodded, as if the girl's age had confirmed an assumption she had made. "Have you heard of a town called Aethon Village?"

Kristen blinked in surprise, her gaze shooting up to meet the princess'. "Y- Yes," she said. "Why does your Mistress ask?"

"Who in your family was involved?"

The servant girl felt her breath catch in her throat, afraid of what the princess knew. She stepped back slightly, her eyes darting to the nearest exit. "Why does your Mistress ask?"

Breeze stood and laid a hand on Kristen's shoulder, her powerful grip holding the servant from her escape. "I just want to know," she said, smiling. "Come, let us talk about this somewhere private."

The princess, leading Ryan, left the dining hall. Ewan and Gaia had stayed behind, waiting for dessert. Twenty-four doors down the hall, Breeze opened a polished, metallic door and stepped inside. "Now you can answer," Breeze said strongly, "without giving an excuse."

The door closed on its own behind Ryan, locking with a crisp click that echoed off of the bare stone walls. The room was cold, and barren save for a set of three chairs along one wall and chains dangling from the opposite. Kristen spun around, fear sending adrenaline coursing through her, and finding no escape grew more frantic than before. She nearly threw herself at the princess, but wisely restrained herself.

"Ryan, bring this servant to the wall and chain her, please," Breeze said, the edges of her lips curving slightly upward. "That may loosen her lips."

The boy hesitated for a few long seconds, but unable to deny the princess he stepped forward. Kristen tensed as he touched her, but followed obediently as he led her to the wall decorated with simple, steel chains. He lifted one string of links and, recognizing the size of the open loop at the end to be too large for a human's wrists or ankles, brought it around the girl's neck and closed the clasp.

Kristen stood silently as Ryan worked, locking her in wrist chains and ankle chains as well. He backed away slowly in the direction of the smiling princess, and when he reached her side the servant slumped to the ground, crying. "What do you want of me, Mistress?"

"I want to know who from your family was involved in the holocaust ten years ago." The princess stepped forward, and lowered her voice to a soft whisper as she continued. "If you answer me, I won't have to kill you."

"Please, Mistress Breeze, let me live. I've never done anything wrong. No one in my family has."

"But you know someone... who?" Breeze drew her rapier slowly, the blade hissing lightly as it left its sheath.

Kristen's tears fell harder, and she cried out in fear, "He didn't kill anyone!"

The tip of the princess' sword rested against the base of Kristen's neck. "Who is 'he,' and what is his relationship to you?" The servant shut her mouth tightly, her bottom lip quivering as she shook her head. "Tell me!" Breeze said, allowing her rapier to pierce the girl's skin.

She sobbed in pain and fear, and she soon felt a small trickle of fresh, warm blood snake its way around her neck and to the ground below, mixing with the water from her tears. "He's my brother," Kristen said, voice barely audible. She inhaled sharply. "Lance."

Breeze removed her blade from the servant, and returned it to its sheath as she stared down on the girl. "You are a werewolf, too, Kristen. I know as much from a young friend of mine."

Kristen's eyes snapped to the princess. "I never told Gaia-"

"It wasn't Gaia who told me. It wasn't even a servant."

"But, how...?"

The princess shook her head. "Don't ask, please. Now, Kristen, I need you to tell me the truth. What did your bother do during the raid?"

"He-" The servant froze for a moment, but shook off her inhibitions and continued. "He was one of the scouts, who entered the town before they began the raid. When the rest of the werewolves entered, though, he came back to the tribe's camp for his watch- I remember, because he told me a bedtime story that night."

Breeze nodded, turned, and strode over to the chairs against the opposite wall from the girl. She and Ryan sat on the well-padded wood chairs, and watched the chained servant with interest. "I believe you," she said after a long silence. "But , where is your brother now?"

"He's still with the tribe, Mistress. He told me to come live here, because it would be safer for me. I was... just old enough to become a mate, and he didn't trust any of the males in the tribe." Kristen again broke out into tears. "He made me promise never to let anyone know I was a werewolf. He said they would send me back, and I would be... I would be..."

Ryan stood. "Mistress Breeze, are we done here? Kristen should be released from the chains."

"No," the princess said, drawing confused stares from both Ryan and Kristen. "This servant needs a while to think about why she didn't answer me the first time I asked her a question."

"Mistress, I-"

Breeze put her hand up, silencing the girl. "Do not speak." She turned to the boy, still standing at her side. "Ryan, please, sit. We will enjoy this night here."

"Mistress Breeze," the boy began, "do you not think you are being harsh?"

"No." She turned to Kristen. "Servant, let me see you as a werewolf. I have a feeling that you are more than just a simple child."

Silently, the girl began her transformation into a werewolf. Her fur grew out, nearly four inches of soft tan hairs, and her eyes turned a dark gray. She stood as her change finished, and turned her head from the smiling princess as embarrassment welled up inside of her. "Is your Mistress satisfied?"

Breeze giggled. "Ryan, you see me and see royalty, yes?" The boy nodded, and she gestured at Kristen. "Well, there is your royalty in the werewolf line. She is the equivalent of a princess in her tribe. Am I wrong?"

"No, Mistress." Kristen's eyes dropped to the blank floor. "You are correct. But, I have no power in my tribe except to give my mate the position of alpha." Suddenly, passion flaring in her gray eyes, the werewolf spun to Ryan. "All I am good for is a sign of my mate's power! I am nothing!"

Breeze stood and walked airily to Kristen, laying a hand on her chains. "Sometimes life is not fair, Kristen." With a quick tug, the neck clamp came free, and the werewolf stared at the princess as she continued, "You should have come to me earlier. I had long ago forgiven your tribe of their actions. I could have protected you, given you a position higher than that of a lowly servant."

As Breeze continued to unlock the chains, she noticed tears throughout Kristen's clothing. "My lord, what conditions have you been living in?"

"I am your servant, Mistress. I live to serve you. When you are happy, I live well. When you are angry, I live in hell."

Ryan stepped forward and undid the last of the locks restraining the girl. He slid the wrist chain off and gazed deep into the werewolf's eyes. "The best part about living," he said, "is that you can go and do something different if your life becomes hell. You should never have had to put up with your servitude."

Kristen smiled, somewhat amused. "Is it truly that easy for you? That you can change whenever life turns for the worse? I feel sorry for you, and the lies you believe," she said. "You never really leave that hell. All you are doing is escaping from it, into your little fantasy world."

"My fantasy world led me here," Ryan said. "To a world I only dreamed was real. To the person I only desired was real." His voice trailed off as he turned to Breeze, whose face began to redden. "My fantasy brought me love and life. I could not ask for anything more."

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (6/28/2008 0:34:26)

Chapter 18-- "Exit Plan"

"Love and life?" Kristen asked, her lips curving into a wicked grin. "There is no love to be had in this world. Still people are told to marry for power, to mate for pleasure rather than true emotion." She slashed wildly at the air. "Even I, who might have been in Princess Breeze's position, am just a symbol of power - a trophy for the lucky male in my tribe chosen to be my mate."

"I- I didn't know," Ryan said softly, taken aback.

The werewolf spat on the ground and turned away from him. "I wouldn't expect you to. You are the type of human who grows up in a perfect household."

"Watch what you say," Breeze cut in, voice restrained. "And who you say it to."

Ryan sank into a chair, Kristen's unsympathetic gaze causing him to feel even more embarrassed than he did. He told himself not to look up into her eyes, afraid of what he would see. The room had remained silent for a long while, no one moving, when the princess snapped and stepped forward suddenly. She grabbed Kristen roughly by the neck and, with an angry grunt, forced the werewolf across the room. "I told you," she said with a snarl, throwing the unresisting Kristen against the stone wall and holding her there, "to stop looking at Ryan like that."

Breeze let the werewolf fall to her knees, revealing a small red mark on the stone where Kristen's head had hit. Angrily, the princess kicked the servant onto her back and drew her rapier. With the point of the princess' blade at her neck, Kristen froze, her eyes growing wide. "Mistress, please-"

"Shut up," Breeze said, feigning a slash above the werewolf's eyes. "I should kill you for not listening to my orders." She moved her rapier over the girl's heart.

As his brain processed the situation, Ryan jumped from his chair and rushed over to Breeze. "Princess, stop," he said.

Breeze spun to the boy and brought her rapier around to him, slicing the point of her blade across his right arm. Ryan cried out in pain, clutching his arm and falling to his knees in shock. Tears fell to the flat stones below him, mixing with the red of his blood on the gray floor. The princess, stunned at her own actions, dropped her rapier and stepped back. As the blade clanged harshly on the stones, echoing off the barren walls in the dimly lit chamber, Kristen turned to the boy.

While the werewolf, the fur on the back of her head caked with blood, checked the depth of Ryan's injury, Breeze felt her breath coming in shallow gasps, unable to comprehend what she had done. Her mind reeling, she ran to the door and threw it open, the light from the hallway that spilled into the room illuminating a small puddle of blood below Ryan's arm. The princess raced from the room, her feet slapping against the marble floor as she ran.

Kristen ripped off her gray, button-down shirt and threw it over the boy's wound, putting heavy pressure on it as she scanned the room for Breeze. "Where's the princess?" she asked loudly. An echoing bang from the hallway answered her, telling the werewolf that Breeze had gone toward the main entrance.

Ryan grunted in pain as his arm began to throb, and as he tried to stand Kristen pushed him back down. "Stay here," she said, putting his free hand on her shirt and standing. She readjusted her gray tee shirt and ran from the room, turning toward the kitchens to get help.

_+__

"Inyro!" Aria called to the shadows of the great tree, the dying light having already hidden the werewolf from her sight. She stood, her eyes darting to focus on the slightest movement, afraid that he had found a way to cross into the open window four meters from the nearest branch on level with it. "Inyro, please..."

The boy appeared in the dull scarlet light cast on the tree, slowly descending as if with the sun. He took his time on the lower branches, staring into the girl's eyes intensely with every step. By the time he reached the ground, the sun had disappeared from the sky completely, and the two stood in relative darkness as the sky continued to grow black with night. "Why should I believe you?" Inyro asked, his question simple despite its gravity.

As the question hung in the still air of the courtyard, lights began to flicker on in rooms bordering the great center of the castle. The dim lights illuminated Aria's face, tear-streaked and red-eyed, as she reached a hand out to the boy. With only a fraction of a second of hesitation, the girl laid her hand gently on Inyro's coarse fur, stroked his cheek slowly and pulled her hand away. The stunned werewolf was unable to speak for a long while, and both he and the Goddess of Lights stood unflinching in the heavy silence.

"You have my answer," Aria said, her voice soft, as she turned away. New tears filled her eyes, the glint of distant lights off of the sad waters tugging Inyro into action. He snapped his arm out, grabbing the girl's arm as she began to walk past him. With a sniffle she turned back to him, gazing into his eyes. "What?" she asked quietly.

Inyro pulled her closer to him and, staring her straight in the eye, spoke. "I promised my father that I would pledge my life to you." He felt himself tense as he tried to vocalize the rest of his thoughts, and realized that he could not. "I-"

When the boy stopped, Aria put her hand on his arm comfortingly. "I'm sorry for how I've acted," she said, smiling at him and seeming to brighten the surrounding air. She stepped closer to him, and suddenly the two were mere inches apart. As she heard his breathing quicken, she heard a voice on his breath that she had not heard for years. A voice she had resigned herself never to hear in her lifetime. "Andy."

And suddenly the voice surrounded her, took her up into the sky. Stars stretched out on either side, as far as the eye could see. Before her, in the clothes he had died in, a bouquet of sky blue perennials in his hand, stood Andy. He looked no different than he had that night, as young and full of life as he had been those years ago. Aria fell to her knees, the impact absorbed by the grass beneath her, as she felt tears spring from her eyes faster than the water of the fountain flowed back in her hometown.

Andy stepped over to her and reached a hand out, lifting her to her feet and into his arms, where he held and embraced her as he had wanted to do for years. "Aria," he said, his voice muffled by her neck as he pressed his face into her shoulder, holding back tears of his own. Though he had watched over her since the day he died, he had longed to hold her again, to feel her pressed against him. Again he repeated her name, as if that affirmation of her being was what kept her with him.

While the two reunited, Inyro stood back, looking past them to the man standing quietly in the background. Tears leapt to his eyes as he tore forward, his arms thrown open. "Father!" he cried, collapsing into his arms against the starry night sky.

"Inyro, you did it. The Queen of Lights is awake," the boy's father said happily, hugging his son proudly.

Inyro turned to Aria and saw, to his surprise, the mark of the Goddess clearly visible on her neck. The mark, blazing golden on her skin, depicted a dragon - its head reaching toward the goddess' ear and the rest of its body shining beneath her shirt, its tail snaked around her torso and left arm. Her eyes shone silver and a pale crimson glow radiated from her body, creating an aura of beauty and grace.

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but was sharply interrupted as Kristen's voice pierced the air. "Help!" she shouted, running frantically into the courtyard and seeing the two. "Help! It's Ryan!"

Aria, the Goddess, spun suddenly to the werewolf girl. "What?"

"Ryan's hurt, he needs someone to help. Now!" Kristen said, spinning on her heels and rushing back in the direction of the chamber where Ryan lay bleeding.

Aria took off after the servant immediately, Inyro close behind as he noticed that she had returned to her normal appearance. The three dashed past darkened rooms and bare stretches of wall in the badly lit hall. When they finally stopped, the tears in the Goddess' eyes had begun to flow a second time. She knelt over the unconscious Ryan, laid her hand on his bloody arm, and began a healing magic she had never used before - nor even heard of.

_+__

Andy smashed his fist against the wall of Castle Aethon. Again he was no more than a spirit, following his love. "Why didn't I warn her?" he shouted at no one. "Why didn't I tell her what he'll do to her?" Tears streaked down his face as he slumped to his knees, resting his head on the wall as he cried in silence. He turned as Inyro's father laid his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"My son will protect her," the werewolf said, his serious expression slightly reassuring Andy. "I promise you, he will die before anyone hurts the Goddess of Lights."

After a long moment, the boy stood and stared the werewolf in the eye. "He had better, Sky," Andy said. "I'll kill both of you if he doesn't." He pushed past Sky, shrugging off the man's comforting hand, and walked away.

_+__

The glow of the digital clock inside Blaine's black Mustang GT convertible showed twenty minutes to midnight as Blaine and Sarah drove back to Aethon Castle, the car's headlights on the dimmest setting possible in order to avoid detection in the late night. The driver stopped suddenly, squinting at a figure stumbling down the road. "Who is that?" he asked quietly.

As the silhouette continued staggering toward the car, Sarah reached her hand out to Blaine, who took it in his hand. Her night vision was fairly weak, and she was caught offguard when the driver suddenly threw open the door and shot out of the car, releasing his hold on her hand as he raced over to the figure. Unable to see more than blurs in the distance, the girl sat silently in the idling car.

"Mistress Breeze, are you okay?" Blaine asked immediately, grabbing the dazed and exhausted princess as she collapsed. She turned to him slowly, seeming almost amnesiac as she glazed over his face aimlessly. "Mistress Breeze?"

Without warning, a loud crack broke the silence. Sarah ducked down in the passenger seat of the convertible as two more gunshots shattered the peaceful night. A thud traveled to the girl's ears, and she caught her breath as she tried to hide further. Footsteps neared the car slowly, barely audible above the idling engine, and when they stopped Sarah closed her eyes tightly, wishing she was invisible. "No one here," a voice said from just above her.

"Well, we've got the princess. Now let's get back to the King, before any Aspect patrols find us," a second man said, his voice farther away.

As the footsteps died away into the forest on the side of the road, Sarah released her held breath and slowly raised her head above the dash. She waited for another minute in her relative blindness, staring at a blotch in her range of vision. When she felt safe, she reached over to the driver's side of the Mustang and flipped the headlights to the highest setting. With a gasp, she fell back into the seat and stared, horrified, at Blaine's bloody body lying in the light of the car's highbeams.

Sarah slowly pulled herself out of the convertible, dragging herself to the boy's side. She took in the two bullet wounds near his heart, the bloody holes illuminated by the headlights of his Mustang, and knelt at his side. His breathing was ragged, and he was too weak to move. With his last ounce of strength he turned his dying eyes to Sarah. "Cronois," he breathed. "Cronois - the princess."

Sarah lifted Blaine's head into her lap and cried, overcome by the event. He died a moment later, his loyalty to the princess overriding any last words he might have had. For another long while, the girl coddled the dead boy's head, as if he would wake up any moment. The idling car sputtered out suddenly, rousing Sarah from her stupor, and in the dead of night she stumbled to the black convertible.

After fumbling with the key for a moment, Sarah restarted the Mustang and shakily sat in the driver's seat. Shifting the car into drive, she took off for Castle Aethon, stopping by Blaine's body and lifting him into the backseat first.

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (7/10/2008 21:54:51)

Chapter 19-- "The Coronated Regime Of Ninety-One Immortal Soldiers"

Ryan lay in his bed, resting peacefully under his plain white blanket as the sun rose. Light flooded through the two windows facing the courtyard, shining directly on both the sleeping boy and his savior, Aria. She sat at the foot of his bed, watching him silently and with hands clasped as if in prayer. Whenever the boy stirred she rose quickly, ready to move to his side and embrace him.

Inyro stood between the two windows, leaning against the wall and silently admiring the Goddess of Lights. He remembered the dark stone chamber where, not seven hours ago, the scarlet haired girl had saved Ryan's life. And since then she had seemed almost otherworldly, an air of supernatural peace and calm engulfing both him and the servant Kristen.

A moment later, as the watch on Inyro's wrist turned to six o'clock, the gray-clothed girl opened the door and stepped inside the brightening room, her eyes immediately focusing on Ryan. "He's still asleep?" she asked, worriedly.

Aria did not answer, gazing at the boy unflinchingly. Suddenly, however, he snapped his eyes open and sat up, his eyes sweeping the room in a state of near panic. The scarlet haired goddess was at his side before he had realized he was in bed, and hugged him tightly as both Kristen and Inyro moved toward him. "Ryan, you're okay," the relieved girl said.

"Thank God," Kristen said, also dropping to the boy's side. "I thought you were dead."

As Inyro stood back, he met Ryan's eyes and smiled. "Good morning, kid."

Ryan hugged Aria quickly and pulled away from the embrace, turning to Kristen. "Where did Breeze go?" he asked.

The servant shook her head quietly, but the question caught Aria's attention as she asked the boy, "What do you mean?"

"After she sliced Ryan, she -" Kristen started to say, but stopped as she heard a growing commotion from outside of the room.

A medley of shouts and calls filled the air as Inyro and the others turned their attention to the sounds. Suddenly the werewolf boy turned to the others, "It's Sarah," he said as he ran from the room.

With the others following him, Inyro rushed into the entrance lobby and froze. He saw Sarah, obviously scared, being chained and dragged in the direction of the prison cells. As Aria and Kristen entered the lobby with Ryan between them, the werewolf threw himself at the guard holding Sarah and tossed him aside.

Many of the other soldiers and guards in the room charged forward, converging on the hoodied boy and the girl, but they stopped as Aria called out an order. As they backed away reluctantly, Inyro released Sarah from her chains and brought her over to the others. Ryan stepped forward and hugged his sister as she began to cry. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

"Gunshots," the girl said. "They killed Blaine, they took Breeze..."

Aria and Kristen both tensed. "Who?" the servant asked, darkly.

"I don't know," Sarah said. She cried harder. "I couldn't see. Blaine said - he said - Cronois...?"

Immediately Aria sprang into action, calling the soldiers into their ranks and sending messangers throughout the castle to find any others. As the men and women assembled, falling silent and giving the scarlet haired girl their attention, Inyro took Sarah in his arms comfortingly. "It'll be okay," the werewolf said soothingly.

"The princess has been captured by Cronois," Aria said to the soldiers, drawing a quick undercurrent of frenzied murmurs. "We can no longer ignore the threats they have made. It is time we act." A roar of approval rose from the ranks, and when it had died away the girl continued. "We must contact our allies to the West, and those overseas. Cronois has earned war, and have incurred our wrath. They have taken away Princess Breeze, the shining jewel of our kingdom, and we will bring her back!"

Even Kristen and Inyro showed their enthusiasm for Aria's speech, pumping their fists with the soldiers and sending up battlecries. "For the princess!" they shouted loudly. With a nod of satisfaction, the scarlet haired girl moved back over to the werewolves and the Aberythstyes.

"Aria, what will our plan of action be?" the servant girl asked.

"We'll have to talk to the next in command," Aria said, and strode past the group. She passed through the open doors into the long hallway and, after walking along for nearly a minute, stopped next to a wide tapestry hanging against the outer wall of the hall. "Through here," she said.

The girl pushed aside the hanging artpiece to reveal a door etched into the wall, made of the same stone as its surroundings. As she opened the door, a bright light clicked on inside, illuminating the doorway and the large room beyond. "Whoa," Ryan said as he stepped inside.

Against the far wall of the huge room stood a group of large screens, on which flashed images of different areas of the castle. In a simple wooden chair, turned to face the group, sat Robina. Aria stepped forward and kneeled. "Mistress," she said simply.

Robina nodded and turned to the others. She focused on Ryan as Aria stood and backed away, and with a small smile motioned for him to step forward. "Sorry I couldn't tell you," the tailor said. "Breeze said it wasn't safe for people to know she had an older sister."

As Ryan processed Robina's statement, Kristen moved forward and knelt low, bowing her head as she had been drilled to do in the presence of royalty. "Mistress Robina, your servant is here."

"Kristen, stand up," the tailor said. She smiled at the girl. "Unlike my sister, I don't consider myself anyone's superior."

"Robina?" Ryan was still confused, and he spoke slowly as he collected his thoughts. "Why aren't you a princess like Breeze?"

"I didn't want to be," Robina said simply. "I don't care for power, or prestige, or anything like that. My dad was the King, yeah, but I'm just like everyone else - normal."

Aria stepped forward, shaking her head. "Well, whatever you think, you're a princess. And now, we need you to be in charge."

"I know what happened, Aria."

With a smile, the scarlet haired girl nodded. "I knew you did. We need to contact the Kingdom of Ru-Ayl and get their support. You know the Queen, yes?"

Robina stood and strode over to a large black panel beside the far left monitor, and as she began to punch in a series of commands, said, "Yes, I do. But first, I want to know where Breeze is." The screen next to Robina flashed blank momentarily before showing a large, three-dimensional globe. A single red dot appeared on the face of the spinning earth, and the picture swiftly zoomed in on the point. "She's on the move. Looks like whoever has her is bringing her to Castle Cronois."

"Where's that?" Ryan asked.

"Florida," Aria said quickly. "About twenty miles east of Avon Park."

Robina brought up a map on the internet, showing the others exactly where it was. "Even though you can't see it," she said, using her mouse to circle a small area of the seemingly barren terrain, "it's right here."

"How do they hide it?" Kristen asked, amazed.

Robina turned to the servant and said, seriously, "It's underground."

"Oh." The servant thought for a moment, biting her lower lip. "I think I can help with the fighting," she said finally.

Aria and Inyro both glanced curiously at the servant as the princess smiled, amused. "I appreciate your patronage, but we have an army without you," Robina said. "Unless you can do something really unique, I-"

"Unique?" Kristen said, grinning innocently. When the princess nodded, silently, the servant shrugged. "I can do unique."

"Kristen, what-?" Aria began, but was cut off by Ryan as he put a hand on her arm.

Silently, the others watched as Kristen transformed into a werewolf, leaving only Ryan and Inyro without looks of complete shock on their faces. The servant bowed slightly to the princess, sweeping her tail around to her right shoulder to complete the gesture of respect. "With your permission, Mistress, I should like to travel home."

"Home?" Inyro asked, his voice soft. "That far into the woods?"

Kristen turned, somewhat surprised, to the hoodied boy. "How do you know where I'm talking about?"

"You're a member of our tribe?" he said, almost to himself as he stared at her. "Oh, I- your eyes. Are you...?"

The werewolf princess nodded, her eyes dropping to the stone floor in embarrassment. "My father was killed when I was ten. It was the night of the Aethon Village raid, one of the werewolves murdered him."

"And saved me," Aria said, her voice soft as she spoke. "Your father had killed my- my friend, Andy. And he would've killed me, if the other werewolf hadn't stepped in."

Kristen spun on the scarlet-haired girl, growling angrily. "Don't you dare insult my father like that! He was no killer!"

"He was, Kristen," Inyro said, slowly transforming into his own werewolf form. He stepped over to the girl, laying a hand on her tense wrist as he gazed into her eyes, trying to calm her. "My father wrote about that night in his journal, and about the girl who was saved."

Staring icily at Inyro, her gray eyes forcing him back, Kristen snatched his neck and lifted him into the air. "I never gave you permission to touch me."

"Kristen, don't!" Aria cried, rushing forward and trying to free the hoodied werewolf from the angered Kristen's grip.

"Kristen, put him down!" Robina said, her voice carrying such authority that the room fell silent. Slowly, Kristen lowered the werewolf, and as she calmed she transformed back into a human. "Why did you-?"

"He's calling my father a murderer!" Kristen said, the anger focused through her eyes on Inyro. With Robina's royal position the only thing restraining her from harming the boy, she continued. "He's talking as if my father killed a helpless boy."

Aria exhaled sharply. "He was only fourteen. On the night of the raid, Andy and I were sitting on a hill outside of town. A werewolf came up from behind, and he killed Andy."

"How can you say that?" Kristen asked, her voice restrained and, out of fear that Aria was right, choked with sadness. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she bit her lower lip to keep herself from making noise.

Slowly, Aria reached into her back pocket and removed a square of folded paper. She opened it with no hurry, and sighed as she held it in her hands, the text clearly visible on it. "One of the werewolves wrote this note about that night," she said, softly. "It talks about Andy, and me. And it says that the werewolf that ordered the attack was the one who killed him."

"Who wrote it? Is there a name?" Kristen's voice was almost inaudible as she spoke, and she closed her eyes tightly.

"It was written by the one who killed your father - his brother."

Kristen's eyes shot open, and her surprised gaze met Aria's. "That's- my brother had him hunted and killed, but I never knew... he killed my father?"

Gravely, Aria nodded. She handed the sheets of paper to the werewolf, who skimmed the writing briefly. As she reached the end - where the writer recounted his murdering of Kristen's father - her eyes froze over a phrase and, slowly, moved to Aria. She studied the scarlet-haired girl's face for a moment, and returned to the writing. When she again lifted her gaze to Aria, she asked in a soft voice, "Are you the same girl my uncle wrote about?"

"Yes," she said. "I never fully understood what he was talking about, when he began referencing that story about-"

"About you," Kristen said quickly, cutting the girl off. "The tale of the Goddess of Lights was about you."

Inyro stepped toward Aria swiftly, his eyes narrowing. "Let me see those papers." Kristen passed the writing in silence as she gazed at Aria, and after a moment of silence, the werewolf boy spoke. "This is- my father. He wrote this."

"Your father?" Kristen asked, confused. "How do you know?"

"He said that he would pledge his life to the Goddess of Lights, and promised me to do the same if I ever met her. He told me that he had met her, and saw her through the night her Protector was killed." Inyro looked to Kristen. "My father must have written this."

Ryan spoke up, confused. "What are you all talking about? Who's the Goddess of Light?"

"Goddess of Lights," Kristen said, correcting the boy. Her blonde hair fell across her face as she shook her head. "It's a child's tale I was told, about a scarlet-haired Goddess who would bring peace to the world. It's been a while since I heard the story, and I'm not even sure I believe it, but Aria fits the description. All save for one thing."

"What's that?" Aria asked, feeling herself become the center of attention.

"The Mark of the Goddess. A golden dragon snaked across the left side of her body," the werewolf said, her light blue eyes focused on Aria's neck. "Its head reaches up, as if to bite her ear. Its body wraps around her chest and arm, as if to squeeze them in its coils." She smiled, wiping her hair from her face. "The Mark is supposed to symbolize that the Goddess will hear the cries of the needy, and respond with an open heart and willing hands."

Inyro chuckled lightly, and all eyes turned to him. "I didn't see beneath her shirt," he said. "But the Mark is there."

"Where?" Kristen asked, not sure whether she wanted to believe that the Goddess of Lights was real.

"Right where you said. Tonight, I'll show you."

Robina shook her head and turned to the monitors behind her, walking quietly away from the others. Ryan followed her silently, and as he neared he heard her mutter, "I don't need this right now. My sister's been captured by Cronois and they're talking about Goddesses and children's stories."

"I'm sorry," the boy said, his voice soft. Smiling as she spun around, shocked, he continued. "I guess we all just got so caught up in the other conversation."

"It's- it's all right, Ryan," the princess said. "You're right. I shouldn't have been angry."

Ryan laughed. "Robina, you have every reason to be angry. Your sister takes priority here." He waited for her to react, and seeing her smile, he shook his head. "Besides, if this was Mistress Breeze, we might have gotten skewered for taking so much time."

"I keep telling her to be nicer," Robina said, lightening up slightly.

"It takes time," Ryan said, nodding. "Now, what can I do to help?"

-----
Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (8/5/2008 14:31:02)

Chapter 20—“Praise the Lord, and Pass the Ammunition”

The air in the courtyard was filled with shouts and cries of exertion as the Royal Army prepared itself. The bulk of the army had been living outside of the castle, in the many satellite towns in the Northeastern United States, but upon hearing of the princess’ kidnapping the soldiers came in droves to the castle gates. By the dawn of Breeze’s fifth day missing, the majority of the fifteen-hundred strong Royal Army had assembled at Aethon Castle.

Servants hurried through the endless hallways, carrying food, clothing, and medical equiptment to the soldiers outside of the gates. Those members of the army who had lived in the castle trained in the courtyard, while the rest of the ranks worked in the surrounding forest. Drills and exercises were organized day and night, every soldier aware that time was already against them. Swords and spears were constantly clashing, the soldiers’ plate armor clacking together as the wearers trained.

The mages of Aethon trained as well, nearly three hundred men and women honing their craft. Tier One mages broke the mass of magic users in smaller, fifty person platoons, and worked both as individual units in their strategy and coopertive units with the other platoons. Ewan had talked his way to the command of one such platoon, having as much skill as the sages who oversaw even the Tier One mages, and drilled his men and women with more intensity than the other commanders.

Kristen and Inyro had departed into the forest, along with a select group of men and women, to meet with the werewolves. The two teen werewolves planned to recruit as many as one hundred of their tribemates to the cause, and had promised Robina that they would not return with any less. Though the princess had originally been reluctant to allow the expedition, Aria and Ryan backed the werewolves and helped win over Robina.

Along with the group travelling into the forest, Robina had organized a meeting with the Ru-Ayl ambassador, a former Aethonian subject who had left for the kingdom on the West Coast when he learned of internal crises threatening the royal family. He was heralded as the greatest mediator in the kingdom’s history, having created a compromise between the opposing factors within twenty-four hours of his arrival. Still loyal to the royalty of Aethon, the ambassador had agreed to meet with the princess’ advisors. Robina named Archie and Torbold, both close friends of the royal family, to the position of advisor, and asked them to do whatever they needed in order to secure military help.

Unaffected by the princess’ orders, Aria and Ryan travelled to the ruins of Aethon Village, where they trained steadily for ten days. By the end of the second day, Ryan had relatively good control of his magic, and with little hesitation he delved into elemental techniques. As Aria had told him, lightning magic was the easiest to produce, and within twenty-four hours the boy had the basic understanding of the technique. For the next two days he perfected his accuracy and skill, taking breaks only for light naps and meals as he practiced.

On the sixth day in the woods near Aethon Village, Aria left Ryan at the outskirts of town so she could return to the path she and Andy had walked daily. In the early evening, Ryan left the camp he had set up to search for the girl, and found her sitting on the flowery hill, crying into her hands as the sun disappeared behind the trees. Aria recounted her last night in the village for the boy, and fell asleep in his arms, crying for what she hoped was the last time about that night.

The next day, Aria was no lighter on the boy and his training. The two began work on fire magic, which was, as the girl told Ryan, a mage’s best weapon. Nearly thirty hours were spent teaching Ryan how to form the flames, and only the day before they left did he begin to practice fighting with fire magic. Unlike the magic of lightning, Ryan found difficulty in using fire, and became comfortable with the techniques of forming and throwing the flames only after sunset of the ninth day. On the last day in Aethon Village, the boy finally deemed himself able to handle fire magic, though he spent the majority of the day practicing anyway.

The two mages returned to Aethon Castle the day before Kristen and Inyro arrived, and welcomed the two werewolves as Robina publicly met with Kristen’s brother, Lance, and the hundred-thirty-six volunteers he led. Over the next three days, the werewolves integrated themselves into the army, forming small squads that would fight with larger platoons of soldiers. With the jubilant announcement of Torbold, that the kingdom of Ru-Ayl would send seven hundred of their own soldiers to help the attack on Cronois, the army of Aethon prepared for the order to begin the journey south.

On the eve of the fifteenth day since Breeze’s capture, Robina met with a select group of people in her hidden headquarters, a single flourescent light in the center of the room barely illuminating the assembled members. Ryan, Inyro, Aria, Lance, and Kristen were joined by two heavily dressed figures, neither of whom spoke as the princess described her plan. “I want you all to go ahead of the main army,” she said, meeting each person’s eyes as she sweeped the group. “I don’t want any of you to be heros, but I want to know that my sister is safe.”

In the heavy shadows, not a sound was made besides the steady breathing of the group. A moment passed in the room before Robina continued, waving her hand at the two figures, cloaked and hooded in thick black. “These two are allies who live in Cronois. They came as soon as they heard of Breeze’s capture, and have volunteered to help in her rescue.”

One of the cloaked allies nodded. Aria, skeptical of the sincerity of the two, shook her head. Crossing her arms, she asked, “What makes you believe them?”

“They are loyal to Aethon,” Robina said. “I know this for certain.”

Not entirely convinced, the redhead crossed her arms and turned away from the dark figures. “When do we leave?” she asked.

The princess laid her hands on the table, as if supporting herself. Again she met each person’s eyes, and with a sigh she said, “Right now. It’s been too long already. I don’t want to send you out so late, but I’m truly getting worried.”

“It’s fine, princess,” Ryan said in the silence that followed. “We all understand.”

“Yeah,” Aria agreed. “Just, don’t let anyone else see that. You need to be strong, for Breeze’s sake.” With a smile, she left the room.

Ryan waited for the others to leave, and gazed calmly at Robina as the door swung closed a final time. “Princess?” he said.

“Ryan, I told you to call me-“

“Princess, why do you want me to go with the others? I’m not as strong, or as fast…”

Robina smiled at the boy, laying her hand on his shoulder. “I have plenty of people in the army who are stronger and faster. I have plenty of men and women with more experience.” She slid her hand slowly to Ryan’s heart. “But no one loves my sister as much as you do. I have more faith in you than I have in Aria, Inyro, or anyone else I know.”

“How…?”

The princess giggled lightly and shushed the boy. “If it wasn’t obvious enough, Aria’s been telling me every day that you and my sister are going to get married one day.”

Ryan felt his face grow hot, and his attempt to respond fell silent in a jumble of syllables. Robina watched as he walked to the door and, just as he disappeared beyond the stone, she fell into her chair, dropping her head into her hands. “I know he loves her,” she said quietly, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. “But part of me still hopes it isn’t true.”

Ryan and Kristen were the last to arrive in the castle’s entrance room, and Aria greeted the two by pushing large, heavy duffel bags in their hands. “You two are late, so you get to carry the heavy stuff,” she said, and without waiting for a response, turned to the large doors.

Outside the castle, the redhead led the group down a dirt path, branching away from the firelit areas of the forest. The seven stumbled through the darkness for nearly twenty minutes, and Ryan at one point knocked Kristen to the ground. When the group finally entered a moonlit clearing, the boy let out a breath of relief. “That was hell,” he said. Turning to Kristen, he added, “Sorry, again.”

“I’m fine, Ryan. Really,” the werewolf said, smiling genuinely. “Don’t worry about it.”

“She’s a klutz on her own,” Lance called back to the boy. “She’s fallen so many times before, she’s not going to get hurt that easily.”

“Shut up, Lance,” Kristen said, grinning sheepishly at Ryan. “He’s lying,” she told him. “I’ve got great balance.”

A sudden beeping and flashing of headlights drew the group’s attention to a pair of Ford Mustang convertibles. Aria popped the trunk of the nearest car and dropped her duffel bag inside, motioning for the others to do the same. Reaching into her pocket, the redhead grabbed the keys to the second high-performance vehicle. She dangled them by the keyring. “Anyone else have a driving license?”

Ryan stepped forward, but as he accepted the keys he said, embarrassed, “I have one, but I accidentally left it at home.”

“What?” Aria said, her mouth hanging. Shaking her head, she looked around desperately. “Anyone else?”

When no one stepped forward, the boy offered a solution. “Maybe… if we don’t get caught, we could swing by my house and pick it up.”

Aria nodded reluctantly. “We don’t have any other options. All right. You’ll follow me, but keep your headlights as dim as possible.”

With their plan set, the group divided into the two convertibles. Ryan clicked his seatbelt into its hook and turned to his passengers. Neither Kristen nor Lance wore a seatbelt, and in the darkness Ryan was unable to tell if the hooded passenger wore his. Facing forward, he eased the car forward and followed Aria’s GT onto a single-lane dirt road, lightly rutted from the cars that had travelled it.

The two cars entered the town of South Huntington as the sun broke the horizon. Ryan took the lead and drove quickly to his home, parking at the curb and rushing to the front door. He knocked loudly as Aria and Kristen walked up to him, and they waited quietly as lights were thrown on inside. Ryan’s mother opened the door and, still tired, stared blankly at the three. “What?” she said.

“Mom, I need to get my wallet,” Ryan said quickly, and pushed past the half-asleep woman as he ran into the house. When he returned a minute later, he found Aria helping his mother to the dining room, walking her to the nearest chair. “You okay, Mom?”

The tired woman turned to Ryan, her face blank, and muttered something the boy could not hear. As he walked closer, he heard her repeating, “It’s not… it can’t be… he’s not…”

“Mom? It’s me, Ryan.”

Aria shook her head and turned to Ryan. “It’s no use, she’s too shocked to understand you. Let’s go.” She started toward the door, where Kristen was waiting, but turned when the boy did not follow her. “Ryan!” she hissed. “Now.”

“But my Mom-“

“She’ll be fine. Now come on!”

Back on the open road, Ryan kept just behind Aria. By midday, the two had reached Maryland, and cruised through Washington, D.C without stopping. They finally took a break after sunset, having reached the southern half of Georgia. Inside of one duffel bag, Aria had packed a good selection of deli meats and cheeses. Ryan bought sliced bread from a small shop, and the seven ate a hasty dinner in their cars.

Aria led the group to Avon Park, Florida, reaching the outskirts of the bombing facility by midnight. She killed her car’s engine and stepped out, waiting for the rest to join her before laying down the plan. “We’re going to do this now,” she said. “I can’t risk someone finding us.”

“What’s the plan, then?” Kristen asked, the only openly anxious member of the group. Lance and Inyro both stood behind the girls, fidgeting restlessly. Ryan, like Aria, grew wary of every noise. The two cloaked members of the group, normally cool and mysterious, seemed to be the most nervous of the group, glancing constantly at the surrounding trees as if suspecting an ambush.

Aria exhaled deeply. “We’re going to sneak in through a partially blocked passage, find out where the princess is, and get out.”

“And how are we going to find her?” one of the cloaked figures asked, her nervous voice muffled by her hood. “If we take information from someone, they’ll tell. And if we don’t we’ll wander aimlessly for days. Cronois is a labyrinth to anyone who doesn’t know it.”

“Good thing you two know it then, right?” Lance said, cracking his knuckles. “Where is this passage, anyway?”

“The sewers,” Aria said, grinning, and strode over to a manhole, illuminated by a nearly lamppost. Pulling the cover away, she glanced up to the group and lowered herself into the opening.

Ryan followed Inyro down the ladder, and Kristen brought up the rear of the group as she pulled the manhole cover closed. In the darkness, the two mysterious allies removed their cloaks, and as Aria turned on a flashlight from the duffel bags she had told the others to bring, the group saw the cloaked members clearly. The woman, no older than thirty, smiled and shook her frizzy, reddish-brown hair as she looked around. Next to her stood a man, maybe forty, who sported a long scar across his neck.

“Nice to finally see who we’re working with,” Inyro said dully, reaching into his duffel bag for a flashlight of his own.

Kristen clicked on her light and, turning to the older two, asked, “Any chance we’ll learn your names before this is over?”

“We only wore so much to keep ourselves safe from any scouts,” the woman said, frowning. “We wouldn’t have been able to help you kids if they identified us.”

The man chuckled, pulling a belt out of his duffel bag. As he reached back into his bag and removed a half-dozen short swords, he said, “I’ll admit, I wanted to take that garb off a few times. But then, I’m sure this old hag was thinking the same thing.”

“Who’re you calling an old hag, you gnarled badger?” the woman asked, crossing her arms and glaring at the man.

Laughing, Ryan shook his head. “You remind me of-“

“Archie?” the man asked, and the boy nodded. “I knew my Dad still had that fight in him.”

“Your father-in-law, you selfish sneak. He’s my father.”

“Oh, what’s the difference? Anyway, Ryan, who does he do the fighting with now?”

“Robina,” the boy said, and nearly broke out laughing at the shock on the couple’s face. “They’ve gotten pretty good at it, too.”

The man dropped his head into his hands, and moaned. Turning to the woman beside him, he pointed and said, “Your father’s been fighting with the princess! I knew that man was going senile.”

“Oh, what happened to him being your father, Randall? All of a sudden you want nothing to do with him. You brown-nosing –“

“Oh, shut up,” Aria said, cutting off the woman. “We have more inportant matters.”

Inyro laughed sharply. “Yeah, like where a video camera is when you need one. That was priceless.”

“Enough, all of you,” Lance said. “Let’s hear what the redhead has to say.”

Aria nodded and continued. “The entrance is down that tunnel to the left,” she said, pointing as she spoke. “We need to get in, get someone to tell us where the princess is, and get out. Now, Randall, umm-“

“Sally.”

“-Sally, can you two get that information without drawing attention?”

The couple exchanged glances, and nodded confidently. “We’ll come back as soon as we know where she is,” Randall said, saluting Aria and turning toward the tunnel.

When the two had left, Aria reached into her duffel bag and took out a pair of curved daggers. “I don’t know what’s going to happen inside,” she said. “We need to be ready for anything.”

A gunshot rang out from the adjacent tunnel, followed by a loud splash. Another gunshot echoed through the sewer, and Sally let out a pained cry before collapsing to the ground. A young figure turned into the main tunnel, lifting a long-barrel handgun in Ryan’s direction. “Good evening,” he said darkly. “What brings you five out so late?”

Aria threw a fireball at the gunman, but he easily dodged, firing another bullet into the wall behind her. The light from the flames had illuminated the shooter long enough for the group to see him, but not long enough to register him clearly. Ryan produced a fireball of his own and held it. Able to finally make out the figure, his magic disappeared. “G- Greg?”

“My god, nothing gets by you, does it?” Greg said wickedly, laughing. He cocked his gun and aimed it squarely at Ryan’s head. “How’ve you been?”

“Greg, what’re you doing here? I thought-“

“You don’t do much thinking, so don’t strain yourself. Just because I’m going to kill you, I’ll do the last bits of thinking for you. Yes, I’m a subject of Cronois. Actually, I’m the best killer in the whole kingdom. So when you told me you met the white-haired brat’s partner, I decided to follow you a little more closely. You led me right to her, you idiot.”

Fireballs flew threw the air, and Greg barely sidestepped the flames as Aria formed more. “You’re dead!” she shouted, sending volley after volley of fireballs after the boy.

Ryan felt his shock and disbelief turn to anger, as the gunman’s actions became clear. A bolt of electricity shot through the air and coursed through Greg’s handgun, running through his body before exploding out his wet feet. “You kidnapped Breeze,” the boy said softly, another bolt striking the shooter’s forehead. “You killed Blaine, and Randall, and Sally.”

“I would’ve killed that princess, too. But the prince wants her for himself. He can have her.” Greg began to sway, laughing, as another shot of electricity hit his gun. “I hope she’s being tortured right now. I hope she cries for help, that bi-“

Fire engulfed the gunman’s body, and he let out a piercing scream as his body burned. Aria stood, breathing hard, her arms covered in flames. “Never say that about my princess.”

Kristen pushed past the scalet-haired mage, running down to the corner of the tunnel. Inyro and Lance helped Aria calm, and as the flames disappeared from her body, Inyro said, “Ryan’s run on ahead. Kristen- wouldn’t listen to us, and she followed him.”

Exhaling deeply, Aria shook her head. “I can’t go on right now. I’m too tired. I just hope the army gets here soon.”

“What about Ryan and Kristen?” Lance asked, worried.

“They’re giving us away. There’s nothing we can do now, except pray that they either rescue Breeze, or survive long enough for the army to rescue them.”

Inyro fell to his knees next to Aria, sighing loudly. “At least you’re still alive, Goddess.”

“I’d rather Ryan be alive.” The Goddess of Lights smiled. “He’s got the potential to be a king.”

“Or,” Lance said, leaning against the wall of the sewer, “a conqueror.”

-----

Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (8/11/2008 16:51:56)

Chapter 21-- “If You’re in Love With Me…”

Ryan dropped behind a stone obelisk as a pair of soldiers strode past. He listened to the footsteps of the armed guards, waiting for them to die away before rushing from his hiding spot. Reaching the relative safety of the dark hallways, he pressed forward at a calm pace. ‘Everything looks the same here,’ he thought to himself. ‘How am I supposed to find Breeze in this maze?’

Footsteps echoed from the passageway behind Ryan, and he threw himself against the wall as someone in high heels walked quickly past him. As the figure strode into the next lit opening, a passing guard bowed and spoke a few inaudible words. The lady nodded her head in acknowledgement of the man’s action and continued on her way into the next dark hall.

When the guard had risen and left, Ryan walked carefully out into the circular opening, dodging around the central obelisk and following the path of the lady. He stole up to the figure in high heels and grabbed her suddenly, tossing her against the wall and covering her mouth as she let out a harsh scream. “Stay quiet, and you’ll live,” he said darkly, trying his best to sound intimidating. The lady nodded, and Ryan released his hand from her mouth. “Where is the princess from Aethon?”

“Who?” the lady asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“The princess!” Ryan hissed. “The white-haired one, from Aethon.”

In the darkness, the lady’s face was impossible to make out. “I- I don’t know,” she said, her voice sounding less scared than it should, in Ryan’s opinion. Desperate, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly, “I really don’t!”

“Don’t play dumb, you know where she is. I want her, and I want her now.”

“Stop touching me!” the lady nearly shouted, her voice more authoritative than frightened. “You know the laws, you fool.”

Ryan shook her again, confused by her sudden change in demeanor. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Female succession,” Kristen said bluntly, strolling up behind Ryan. “Cronois’ first queen decreed that the men of the kingdom would be forever inferior to the females. It’s been this way for almost seven hundred years.”

“Now get off of me, you idiot,” the lady ordered, pushing Ryan away. “This is why men are second-class. Brutes, all of them.”

Kristen laughed her agreement. “All men may be brutes,” she said, grabbing the lady’s neck and holding her against the wall, “but not all brutes are men. Now, where’s that princess?”

“I already told you, I don’t know!” the lady shouted, surprised and angry. “Who are you even talking about?”

“Where is the prince’s room?” Ryan asked, growing impatient.

“Straight down this hallway, the last door on the left. Wait, why do you want to know?”

Ryan took off running, Kristen following closely as they passed into the brightly lit opening. “Greg said the prince was the one who wanted Breeze, right?” he asked as the werewolf drew up beside him.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding as the two rushed into the dark hall. “Ryan, what are you planning to do?”

Ryan slowed to a stop as he reached the next opening, breathing hard and staring at the obelisk. Unlike the other, solid black fixtures in the other openings, the one before him was enbossed with golden, floral designs and studded with precious stones. With Kristen silently waiting for an answer, Ryan exhaled deeply and said, “Aria told me, a while ago, that she would kill to keep Breeze safe. That any of the people who lived in Aethon would kill to keep her safe.” He stepped up to the beautifully decorated monument and laid a hand on it, running his fingers along the smooth lines of gold. “I have an obligation to Breeze, as my princess. But, unlike Aria and the others, I have another obligation to her.”

“What’s that?”

Ryan smiled and turned to the werewolf, his eyes bright. “She has my heart. If I can’t save her, I’ll never get that back.”

Kristen morphed into her werewolf form, grinning toothily and winking. “I still think you’re a little lost in the clouds, but you’re not completely naïve. Lead the way, kid.”

The sound of a gun being cocked froze the two, and they spun around to see the entrance to the dark hallway blocked by three armed guards. “How about I lead the way,” a familiar voice said from behind the men. The lady Ryan and Kristen had interrogated earlier, grinning smugly, stepped from the shadows. “Men, take this boy to the chambers. And one of you, stay here.”

The guards obeyed silently, two rushing forward and pulling an unresisting Ryan away, past the lady and into the darkness of the hallway. As the footsteps of the others died away, Kristen shrunk back to the obelisk. “What do you want with me?”

“I want to put you in the chambers,” the lady said, curling her bright red lips wickedly as the werewolf’s eyes narrowed. “But I can’t, even though you may be as much a traitor as that boy.”

“Why not?” Kristen asked, skeptical.

“The laws of female succession. We cannot be charged with any crime unless the sentencer is royalty.” She turned to the man whose gun was aimed at Kristen. “And we cannot be touched or hurt by men. Another problem, meaning that this neanderthal is forbidden to shoot you.”

“Well, if that’s so,” Kristen said, striding confidently toward the man, “he can give me his weapon.” The guard obeyed silently, laying his gun in the werewolf’s open palm. As she checked the cartridge of the handgun and snapped it back in, cocking the gun, she smiled at the obviously shocked lady. “You’re such an idiot, telling me all that. Now, walk.”

Kristen forced the stunned lady down the hallway, making her lead the way to Ryan. The two passed through two of the obelisk rooms before they heard the faint footsteps of the procession ahead of them. “Tell them to stop, or I’ll shoot you.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

“No, but I’ll shoot your hands, and your feet, and maybe shoot off your ear. Wanna pick what I aim at first?”

Ryan smiled slightly as he heard the Cronois lady calling for the guards to stop. He turned around and waved to Kristen as the guards handed over their weapons to him. “Now, can we get back to what we started?”

“Yeah,” Kristen said. “But let’s hurry up. I don’t want to come across a girl with a gun.”

Again, the two ran through the empty hallway, and stopped in the final obelisk room. The hallway past the decorated monolith was lit, and the single door at the end of the roughly cut passage was adorned with gold and rubies. Ryan strode confidently up to the door and grabbed the doorknob, turning and pushing. As the door swung open, the two teens stormed into the dimly lit room beyond and froze.

Ryan closed the door behind him, softly, and searched for a light switch. Finding none on the blank wall in front of him, he turned to the wall on his right, his eyes passing over a gold-trimmed wardrobe and two highly-polished, wooden desks. The wall on his left, adorned with a large, gold-framed painting of a well-dressed young boy, was otherwise blank. Along the back wall of the room, seven feet of the bright purple walls covered by the bed’s headboard, sat a panel of buttons and switches.

Kristen turned her gaze to the ceiling as she walked softly on the thick, maroon carpeting, and called to Ryan in a small voice, “There’s a light up here.”

Ryan passed the ragged figure of Princess Breeze and studied the white panel next to the bed. Turning the knob labelled ‘Light,’ he illuminated the bedroom. “Kristen…”

“I’ll wait outside,” the werewolf said, stepping quietly to the door and leaving without a word.

Ryan dropped to his knees at the side of the bed, tears running silently down his cheeks as he covered his face with his hands. Silently he cursed God, himself, and all of Cronois for what he saw. And, after a long few minutes, he dried his face and reached his hand out to Breeze, gently stroking her bare right shoulder. The girl shuddered under his touch, and the boy could only hear her crying, as her long white hair covered her face. Her body shook lightly, the torn clothes on her body shifting with every small movement.

His fingers trembling, Ryan brushed her hair back, revealing a tear-streaked face. Again he dropped his head into his hands, blocking the sight of the fatigued princess from his eyes, though the image of her shredded clothes clinging scantily to her beautiful body remained vividly in his mind. He opened his eyes as the princess inhaled sharply, her eyes moving rapidly behind her eyelids. “No,” she whispered, her voice scared and strained. “No- help me. Help me… Ryan, protect me.”

“Forever, princess,” the boy said, his voice wavering as tears sprung again to his eyes. “I will always be there for you.” He reached out his hand to the girl and, slowly, he wrapped her bruised hand in his. His breath caught as he saw, on her face, a smile form.

“I love you, Ryan,” she said, still sleeping. Her smile was sincere, her voice serene, and in an instant she no longer looked beaten or afraid. Instead, a simple, tired happiness stole over her, one that sent tears of joy down Ryan’s face.

Suddenly the door burst open, five armed guards rushing over to where Ryan knelt. Ripping him off the ground, they threw him away from the bed and against the frame of the door. He looked around wildly, and saw Kristen surrounded by a group of armed, female guards. With a final glance in Breeze’s direction he was led down the hallway and through a few of the dark side halls, the werewolf and her captors in front of him.

When the procession stopped, the two were thrown into a dark cave dug into the wall, separated from the rest of the hall by thick steel bars. The guards locked the heavy padlock over the door, and walked away without a word. A separate set of footsteps grew louder as the guards departed, and the spitting image of the painting in the bedroom stopped in front of the teens’ cage. “You two were in my bedroom!” he shouted, his voice not the least bit intimidating due to its high pitch.

Shocked, Ryan asked, “How old are you, four?”

“I’m eleven, idiot. Shut up. You broke into my bedroom and scared my girlfriend!”

Ryan growled angrily and smashed his hands against the bars, scaring the young prince of Cronois. Glaring at the boy with fire in his eyes, he said darkly, “Don’t ever call my princess your girlfriend.”

“Cool it, Ryan,” Kristen said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “He’s going to pee his pants if you get any angrier.”

The small prince gave a loud ‘Hmph!’ and crossed his arms across his chubby chest, his cheeks growing red. “You can’t talk to me like that. I could get you both killed, I could.”

“I could punt you down the hallway, you little brat,” Ryan said, snarling.

Kristen grinned at the prince, hoping to try a different tactic. “What’s your name?” she asked, her sweet voice catching the pudgy boy off-guard.

“P-Prince Jamie,” he stuttered, his face even redder.

The girl let her wavy, blonde hair fall over the left half of her face as she smiled wider. “That’s a cute name. And you’re already eleven?” The young boy nodded. “Wow. So, you’ll be a king soon, right?”

“No,” Prince Jamie said. “We don’t have kings here.”

“That’s not right. I think you’d make a great king. You’re probably really nice to the people who live here.”

The fat prince nodded eagerly. “Always,” he said, nearly jumping with his enthusiasm. “I always say ‘hi,’ and ‘please,’ and ‘thank you!’”

Kristen turned to Ryan, a fake look of surprise on her face. “Wow, you hear that Ryan? I’m impressed.” The boy only grumbled, but she played it off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He’s just cranky. He had to wake up early today.”

Just as Kristen was preparing to ask the prince to open the door of the cell, another man walked up to him and said, “It’s time for your lunch, young prince.”

As Prince Jamie waddled off behind the man, Kristen sighed ad turned her back to the bars. “Well, I tried.”

“I hope they’re just fattening him up for bacon and ham,” Ryan said darkly, staring unflinchingly at the dusty, stone ground. Again he pushed on the bars, but gave up on breaking out and walked to the back wall of the cave. Ducking low to avoid the angled ceiling, he sat against the stone and took two guns from the waistband of his pants. “Want one?” he asked, dropping the cartridges out of the handguns to check the ammo.

“How did you…?”

“They never took them from me,” Ryan said calmly. Handing one to Kristen, he clicked the cartridge back into his gun and cocked it, aiming out into the hallway. “And I’ll make them pay for that.”

“How about you try breaking the lock instead,” Kristen replied, pointing at the thick neck of the padlock. “Shooting one or two people isn’t going to rescue Breeze, you know.”

With a grunt, Ryan stood and calmly walked over to the lock. “Too big,” he said. “It won’t break.” An idea dawning on him, he laid the gun down carefully, the barrel facing the back of the cave. “Let me try something.”

Kristen watched anxiously as Ryan summoned a ball of flames into his hand and moved it slowly to the neck of the padlock. After a few minutes, the boy moved his hand and grabbed up his gun, using it as a hammer as he tried to break the lock. The gun fired, sending a bullet straight into the ceiling, but he continued as if nothing had happened. “Ryan, it’s not working,” the werewolf said after a minute of the boy banging away. “Let’s think of something else.”

Nearly thirty minutes after the pudgy prince had left, a boy of about twenty walked up to the teens’ cell, dressed the same as the young royalty. “Who are you?” he asked bluntly, his voice smooth.

“Who are you?” Ryan snapped in response.

The boy narrowed his eyes darkly, flaring his nostrils to show his anger. “I demand an answer.”

“Are you related to that fat snot who came past here a while back? You both have that same quick temper.” Ryan grinned at the older prince.

“He is my younger brother. He came by?”

Kristen nodded. “Yelled at us for breaking into his bedroom and scaring his…” she let her voice die away, feeling Ryan’s hot stare on her.

“I thought that was you two. What were you doing in there?”

“Making her feel better,” Ryan said simply. “You’ve obviously not treated her well.”

“She may be a female,” the prince said, “but soon she will be my bride. I have the right to do what I want with her. I don’t care if she’s treated well or not.”

Ryan chuckled silently from the back of the cave, shaking his head. “She looked awfully battered.”

“I put her in her place, at my side. When she becomes the queen, I’ll make her rescind the female succession. And I will be king.”

Kristen eyed Ryan warily, afraid of how he would respond. In the shadows, he took the werewolf’s gun and, leaning forward, he pulled it out. He eyed it, as if interested in the design, all the while feeling the prince begin to sweat. With a final shrug, he laid it on the ground and slid it across the dusty ground to the boy. “If I’m in here, I don’t need my gun. You take it.”

The boy watched as the prince, relieved, bent over to retrieve the handgun from the floor, just inside the bars. Just before he touched the weapon, though, Ryan lunged forward and, simultaneously, knocked the gun away and grabbed the boy’s short black hair. Pressing his own gun to the prince’s head, he said, “Call the guard over and tell him to unlock the door.”

Kristen grabbed her gun off the ground as the prince, frightened for his life, waved the nearest guard over. “Open the door to this room and give this girl your gun. Quickly!” he shouted, sparking the man into action.

With the two freed and standing next to the prince, guns aimed at his head, Ryan smiled. “So, prince, what’s your name?”

“Henry,” the prince said. “Don’t kill me.”

A voice from behind the teens called suddenly, “Don’t worry, Henry. They will not touch you, if they want to live.” The sound of multiple guns being cocked made Ryan’s heart drop, and as he turned, slowly, he saw a group of maybe twenty armed, female guards crowded into the hallway in lines of three. At the head of the women, an middle-aged lady dressed in gold and purple smiled. “If you two would relinquish your weapons to my son, you may return to your cell.”

“Damnit,” Ryan breathed, defeated. He dropped his gun into Prince Henry’s hand and walked back into the cave. Punching the wall in his frustration, he ignored the queen’s first calls.

“Boy, if you would turn to me, I may be able to assist you,” she said, smiling behind too many layers of make-up. “What is so important that you need to threaten my son?”

Ryan finally turned to the queen, his eyes filled with a resolute determination. “I came here to rescue my princess,” he said.

“She’s not yours!” Prince Henry shouted, cocking one of the guns in his hand and pointing it at the boy’s head. “She’s mine now!”

“Henry, shush,” the queen said softly, smiling at Ryan. “Boy, what would you do for this princess?”

“I would kill for her.”

“Would you not die for her?”

Ryan shook his head seriously. “I promised her I would protect her for her whole life. If I were to die, how could I keep my promise? And besides, if I were to die now, I wouldn’t know if she was truly safe.”

“She’s safe with me,” the prince said angrily.

With a roar of anger, Ryan rushed up to the bars of the cell and shouted, “You beat her! She was crying in her sleep and calling for help!”

The queen turned on her son, surprised and taken aback. “Henry, how could you do such a thing? I had her brought here for you to love, not to beat!”

“She is my wife, mother. You know very well that the laws of female succession don’t apply to married couples.”

“You’ll never be married to my princess!” Ryan yelled, enraged. “You’ll never lay a hand on her again!”

The queen lifted a hand. “Relieve my son of his weapons, and bring him with me to his brother’s room, where the girl is.”

“Bring me with you, please!” Ryan called as the group left, but was ignored. He collapsed against the bars and slid to the floor, tears again falling to the stone.

Kristen walked over to the boy and knelt at his side, rubing his back comfortingly. She watched as the procession of guards disappeared around the corner and sighed. “We’ll get out of here soon, Ryan. I promise you.”

_+__


Breeze was awake by the time the queen had opened the door, and quickly she pulled her shredded clothes across her chest, leaving her neck and stomach bare. Turning her face away in embarrassment, she forced herself to sit still. As the guards finished filing into the room, the queen stepped toward the bed. “Henry, what have you done to her?”

“She looks happy, mother!” the prince said quickly, pointing to the faint smile on Breeze’s lips. “See?”

The queen, confused, asked the princess, “Why are you smiling? You look exhausted, and your clothes…”

Breeze turned to the royalty, calmly, and smiled brightly. She stood, forced to use her second hand to keep her pants from falling, and said in a soft voice, “I am rescued. My friends have come to get me, I have dreamt it. I am saved, and nothing you can do will stop that.”

“Friends?” Prince Henry asked quickly. “You mean those two locked up in the chambers? They cannot save you, no matter how much they pretend they can.”

Breeze sat back on the bed, content. “I am rescued.”

-----

Comments




_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (8/13/2008 21:01:28)

Chapter 22-- “Death’s Theme Song”

Two thousand, thirty-six men and women arrived in Florida by means of eight hundred airplane tickets, seven hundred train tickets, five double-decker tour buses, and a small fleet of personal watercraft. Robina herself rode in the passenger seat of an electric-blue Chevy Camaro, Sarah at the wheel following the line of tour buses that housed a small portion of Aethon’s Royal Army. As those on the planes landed in different Floridian airports, and those on the trains not far from the state’s border, the active princess felt herself growing restless. ‘Forty-five miles,’ she told herself, much more anxious than she appeared. ‘Forty-four…’

Aria, Lance, and Inyro left the sewers late in the night, reeking of the musk and waste they had waited in for twenty hours. “The army is probably gathering somewhere to the West of here,” Aria said, sitting against the wheel of her Mustang with a sigh. “That’s where the majority of the soldiers will enter. I expect a platoon to come around here, though, before the rest of the army attacks.”

“Why would anyone come back here? It would take an hour to march to the battle above ground, I can’t even imagine how long it would take in that maze.” Inyro shook his head, staring at the manhole cover. “And what about Ryan and Kristen?”

“Don’t underestimate my sister,” Lance said, smiling. “She’s a natural fighter, the best in our tribe. Your father taught her, you know.”

Inyro raised an eyebrow. “My father was a fighter?”

Lance laughed and brushed some of his rust-brown hair from his forehead, revealing a small scar. “I was one of the thirty-man group that was sent to kill him, after he killed my father. He incapacitated six of us before we even saw him, and killed another twelve before we took him down. He wasn’t a fighter, he was an assassin, and my sister is his protégé.”

“My dad gave you that scar?”

“No, he gave me the one on my back. I was the first one he attacked, and according to the medics, the only one he hadn’t struck to kill.”

Inyro nodded, and gazing at the ground asked, “Do you… ever regret ordering his death?”

“Yeah,” Lance said. “For two reasons. First, if I hadn’t ordered it, Sky would’ve become the new leader of the tribe. I wouldn’t have had to send my sister into hiding.”

“And the second?”

“I always admired Sky. He never did anything without knowing all of the consequences, and nothing he did was foolish. I should have known he had a good reason for doing what he did.” He smiled at Aria. “If he hadn’t done it, this beautiful young lady wouldn’t be here.”

Aria blushed lightly, turning her head to avoid Lance’s soft, gray eyes. “Listen, you two, the army should be here soon. Let’s eat something quick, so we have enough energy to fight.”

“Did you bring my blades?” Lance asked, walking to the trunk as Aria disabled the car alarm.

The redhead nodded. “I packed a few guns, too,” she said. “Cronois arms their men with police-issue handguns and semi-automatic battle rifles, so we’ll have to be careful. I know we can dodge a sword, but bullets…”

Inyro opened a duffel bag and pulled out seven guns. “Should we bring the others for Ryan and Kristen?” he asked, rifling through the bag for ammunition cartridges.

Aria nodded. “Take out the holsters, too. I’ll hold the extra guns.”

_+__

The Avon Bombing Facility stood desolate, despite the tension below. The underground castle, with its many dark, narrow hallways and labyrinthine construction, provided a strong homefield advantage for the Cronois army, an advantage they desperately needed. With only thirteen hundred men, the Coronated Regime prepared to defend its home. Soldiers were positioned in the shadows of the complex series of tunnels to ambush any unsuspecting Aethonian fighters. The large, domed rooms that connected the endless hallways would be key to the conflict, as both armies were well aware, and were fortified accordingly. The large obelisks in the rooms were flanked by three feet wide walls of stone, four feet high and angled to create a bowl of protection for the defending army.

More of the stone barriers were placed strategically throughout the domed rooms, giving the Coronated Regime another significant advantage for the fighting. Both armies would be heavily armed with both blades and guns, and the set-up of the rooms and halls guaranteed that both types of weapon would be effective and deadly. The fighting would be chaotic, and close-quarters combat would dominate the battle.

The non-combat residents of Cronois were evacuated to a small town above ground, where they would remain until the end of the fighting. The empty rooms were turned into infirmaries and weapons storehouses by the army, and were well stocked for the battle to come.

_+__

Aria lowered herself down the ladder, into the stale and repugnant sewer, as thirty soldiers already below clicked on flashlights. On the slimy stone walkway, she pulled a handgun from her shirt and handed it to the nearest soldier, saying, “Hold this for a second.” She saw the young man stare at the weapon as he held it in his open palm, and she rolled her eyes. “Men.”

The redhead opened the duffel bag at her feet and lifted a red leather jacket, on the back of which was sown a pair of sheaths. Aria reached back into the bag and pulled out two long daggers, identical save for the design of the hilt. One hilt had a panther’s head, jaw open, engraved in the gold, where the other had a tiger’s head. She slipped the blades into the sheaths on the jacket and carefully slid her arms into the sleeves. Buttoning only the bottom half of the vibrant red jacket, she snatched her gun from the soldier and held it loosely in her right hand.

“Damn,” Inyro said, standing behind the scarlet-haired girl. “Nice blades.”

Lance laughed, clipping a pair of curved blades onto the wrists of his own, black leather jacket. “I’m not sure whether to be scared or stunned.”

“Let’s go,” Aria said, ignoring the werewolves. She led the group of soldiers down the walkway, going slowly so none of the men behind her would slip on the stone. She turned the corner and quickened her pace, running by the time her feet touched the interior of the castle. She holstered her gun as she ran, drawing her blades silently from their sheaths and rushing into the back of a small group of eight patrol guards.

The deadly steel of her daggers slipped across the necks of the back pair and drove through the backs of the next pair, blood flowing from all four wounds as she drew her gun from its holster. The shouts of surprise from the guards were drowned out by four swift gunshots, the bangs echoing through the hallways as the four targets fell to the ground, wounded or dead. Withdrawing her bloody daggers from the backs of the motionless guards, Aria grinned and took off down the hallway to her right.

Lance turned to Inyro, his eyebrows raised. “Did you know she could do that?” When the other werewolf shook his head, he said, “Is the Goddess of Lights supposed to be able to do that?”

“I guess so,” Inyro said. “Makes you want to stay on her good side, huh?”

“Yeah, no kidding.” The two werewolves exchanged grins, rushing up to the Goddess of Lights’ side. “So, Aria, are you looking for Ryan, Kristen, or the princess? Or just other people to kill?”

Aria laughed lightly, stopping in one of the fortified obelisk rooms. “How about all of the above?” she said, ducking behind a stone wall as a group of ten Cronois soldiers opened fire in her direction. She glanced over to Inyro, hiding behind the wall nearest her, and cocked her gun. ‘Two left in this cartridge,’ she thought to herself.

At the first pause in fire, Aria stepped into sight. She ducked away as the Cronois soldiers shot in her direction, and slid a full ammo cartridge in the direction of the enemy soldiers. A bright orange fireball formed in the palm of her hand, and she gazed at it silently for a moment, watching the flames leap into the air. Taking a deep breath, she spun and threw the fireball at the ground, smiling as it struck the ammo cartridge. The bullets exploded inside their casing, frightening the three soldiers behind the nearest two walls.

Inyro shot at the Cronois soldiers as they revealed themselves, catching one man in his right temple. The other two recovered from the shock of Aria’s distraction and dropped back behind their stone cover, their fellow soldiers forcing Inyro down with gunfire. He turned to Aria, grinning from his first kill and mouthing, “Nice move.”

“Get all of them next time,” the redhead responded, wiping the giddy smile from the werewolf’s face. She turned to her other side, where a pair of Aethonian soldiers had found cover behind the stone barrier adjacent to her. “I need cover fire,” she whispered, pointing to three spots along the opposite end of the room.

Eying her point of advance, a stone barrier angled toward the central obelisk that would make her an easy target for the Cronois soldiers, she signaled her readiness to the soldiers. The young men jumped up, armed with semi-automatic battle rifles, and sent a spray of bullets at the places Aria had pointed out. The redhead lunged in the direction of the next wall, aiming her gun at the Cronois soldier, sitting against a wall, in her sight.

Aria fired her handgun, the bullet drilling into the enemy’s neck, and she spun to her right to peer around the other end of her new position. The enemy soldiers shot at her, forcing the redhead to hide, and she exhaled deeply as she considered her options. ‘Eight left,’ she said to herself. ‘Three to my right, five on my left. I can’t stay here much longer, the five on my left have too much of an advantage.’

Lance ducked into the shadows of the hallway as he and seventeen others fought back a group of reinforcement soldiers heading toward Aria. In the darkness, he changed into a werewolf and unclipped his blades from the wrist cuffs of his jacket. Silently he watched the conflict unfold in the obelisk room, noting the positions of the enemy soldiers. He saw a pair of Cronois guards advance to the central barriers, and grinned darkly, shifting his grip on the curved blades so they pointed toward him.

The werewolf charged into the dome, dodging past the first row of barriers and leaping powerfully over the second, landing in a roll to keep himself low. The momentum of his roll brought him up against the barrier, and he crouched low to catch his breath before flipping over the wall, slicing out with his deadly blades. The two Cronois soldiers fell quickly, deep gashes on their shoulders and necks creating a swiftly growing puddle of blood beneath their collapsed bodies.

Lance rushed behind the nearest wall to avoid being shot, dropping his daggers at his feet as he drew his two handguns. Without hesitation, the werewolf threw himself around the edge of the barrier, opening fire on the guard huddling low to the ground. As the remaining four soldiers opened fire in his direction, he rolled back to the other side of the barrier, catching a breath and drawing himself into a crouch. He watched the tops of the walls behind which the enemy waited, clipping his daggers back onto his sleeves, and cocked his guns. The Aethonian soldiers stormed the room with a hail of gunfire, keeping the Cronois guards in their positions as they advanced through the rows of barriers.

“Took you long enough,” Lance said, relieved, as he rose to his feet. He and eight fellow soldiers walked calmly to where the Cronois soldiers sat, arms on their heads. Grinning in victory, the werewolf bent down and grabbed the enemies’ guns from their feet. “Check them for concealed weapons,” he ordered, “and let them go. I don’t keep prisoners.”

Lance motioned for the other nine Aethonian soldiers to follow him, and he led them toward Aria’s front in a brisk walk. Handing two of the four sub-machine guns to the soldiers next to him, he holstered his handguns and checked the clips of the two other enemy guns. Satisfied, he turned around to the following soldiers and said, “We’re going to rush the room, guys, three at a time. One man left, one man right, one man straight up. Keep the enemy down, and duck down when you run out of bullets. Ten seconds for each group, got it?”

Lance waited for each soldier to nod, and he smiled. He gave a formal salute, turned, and ran into the dark hallway, the nine other soldiers following him silently. His heart pounding as the brightly lit obelisk room grew near, he let out a hearty battlecry and charged through the threshold, the enemy soldiers ducking behind their respective barriers as he opened fire. When the enemy guns ran out of ammo he dropped them, drawing his handguns and leaping over the central barriers as the first trio of soldiers entered the room with their own roars.

Aria and Inyro joined Lance as he dropped the empty cartridges from his guns, advancing to the next row of barriers as the second trio ran into the room, guns blazing. The first trio reloaded quickly and charged to the back of the room, taking down two soldiers before being incapacitated themselves. As the third trio entered the room, Aria and the two werewolves ran forward in a crouch, reaching the last four Cronois soldiers. Bullets exploded on the sides of the half-foot thick stone, two enemy soldiers firing at the group as they prepared to make a final run.

The gunfire stopped for a short moment, sending up an eerie half-silence in the room, only the sharp breaths of four frightened Cronois men audible in the dome. Aria ejected an empty ammunitions cartridge from her handgun, and the sound of the metal container hitting the stone floor shattered the quiet, sparking both sides into action. The thirteen Aethonian soldiers in the room charged forward, rushing around the perimeter and into the waiting gunfire of the Cronois guards.

Lance and Inyro shot at the two Cronois soldiers behind the outer walls, incapacitating them as Aria lobbed a pair of fireballs over the rear-central barrier to smoke out the final two enemies. The two guards tossed their weapons away quickly, throwing their hands in the air as the Aethonian soldiers came into sight. Aria and the werewolves stood and joined their fellow soldiers, the scarlet-haired girl taking charge of the group. “Let these men go, they are no threat,” she said, smiling in victory. As the defeated enemies ran from the room, she continued, “Twelve of you stay here, and hold this room. The rest of you, reload and move out. We must find the princess.”

“And my sister,” Lance said. “And Ryan. They are in here somewhere.”

The soldiers saluted smartly, taking their positions either with the group remaining to keep the room or with Aria’s party. The latter group left at a brisk pace, jogging down the dark hallway and into an unfortified dome, where they stopped. “There are two hallways,” Aria said slowly, examining both with interest. She pointed to the dusty stone floor of the left hallway. “No one’s gone down there for a long while, at the very least. We’ll go right.”

The group headed quickly into the hall, most of the armored soldiers breathing heavily behind the lead three. Aria drew her blades, Lance at her side doing the same as the next dome became clear, unfortified as the last had been. Again the group stopped inside, the redhead turning to check each of the three hallways. “They’ve all been used recently,” she said, dismayed. “The left one not as much, but the two on the right have been-“

“Aria!” Kristen’s voice rang out through the dome.

“Sis!” Lance shouted back, spinning quickly to try and spot the girl. “Where are you?”

As if in response to the werewolf’s question, a bright orange fireball flew into the domed room from the far right hall, landing and disappearing at Inyro’s feet. “Down here!” Ryan called, illuminating the dark hallway with a second fireball.

Aria rushed into the dimly lit hallway with the werewolves at her side. She slowed to a stop at the cell, smiling wide at Ryan. Turning to the lock, she frowned, trying to decide the fastest way to break through. “Kid, hold those flames over the lock,” Lance said, stepping forward and spinning the blade in his right hand. He waited for a minute, the orange flames crackling over the thick aluminum neck, and motioned for Ryan to stop. He brought his curved blade down on the lock with force, cutting a half-inch into the neck and another third of an inch with his second blade. “There,” he grunted, his third slash severing the steel completely.

Ryan had the door open before the heavy lock touched the stone floor, rushing wordlessly past Aria and Lance as they tried to greet him. Kristen stepped out calmly and hugged her brother, watching her cellmate run and sighing lightly. “We’d better follow him. He’s heading to Breeze, I bet.”

Aria spun around and chased Ryan, calling for the soldiers to follow him as he passed them. Her heart began to pound as she easily ran past the startled soldiers, drawing even with Ryan as he broke the threshold of the hallway, and she dragged him behind the beautifully decorated obelisk as enemy gunfire sprayed the wall of the dome. “Stay down!” she yelled over the echoing bangs of the Cronois soldiers’ guns.

The scarlet-haired girl formed fireballs in her hands and threw them in front of the obelisk at multiple points, creating a thick, dark smoke barrier between the enemy shooters and her. Breathing evenly, she focused her magic into her arms, setting her skin ablaze for a moment. The glowing orange flames crawled across her palm, the crackling fire licking eagerly at the air as Aria drew the whole of it to the tips of her fingers.

Two identical pillars of flames grew up toward the high ceiling of the domed room as Aria exerted herself, the tops of the columns bursting with hungry flames. The mage gave a powerful roar, throwing herself through the barrier of smoke, and aimed the fire at the guarded hallway. Loud, terrible screams pierced the cloudy air as the Cronois soldiers fell to the ground, the spouts of flames ripping through their ranks, charring all they touched.

Ryan rushed from the safety of the obelisk, charging toward the hallway leading to the prince’s room. “Princess!” he shouted, pushing past enemy soldiers nursing burns. “Breeze!”

A single, female soldier stepped out from the prince’s room, pointing her long-barreled pistol at Ryan calmly, pulling back the hammer as he stopped dead. Her face was blank, her hand unshaking, and she spoke in a dull, emotionless voice. “Name.”

“Ryan,” the boy said, anxious to go inside.

“Are you not a prisoner?”

Ryan paused, but nodded, breathing heavily and sweating. “Please,” he said, “I need to go inside.”

“My orders are not to kill you. My orders are not to stop you from entering. My orders are to protect my Queen.”

“I won’t hurt anyone!” Ryan shouted, stepping over a moaning enemy soldier and pushing past the door. His eyes focused immediately on Breeze, sitting on the bed with her hands holding her torn clothing across her body. Without hesitating, he strode to the bed and pulled his shirt over his head, offering it to the princess.

Breeze took the shirt, despite its damp and smelly state, and smiled at the boy. Slowly, she slid to the edge of the bed where Ryan waited, and dropped his shirt to the floor as she threw her arms around him. “Ryan,” she said, her voice soft, “you came.”

“My princess, I would cross the world for you.”

The queen cleared her throat, standing in the doorway, and smiled at Ryan as the twenty-odd soldiers in the room closed ranks around the bed. “I cannot let you leave,” she said simply. “That girl is my son’s fiancee, despite what he may do to her.”

Ryan returned Breeze’s hug, tears forming in his eyes. “I have found my princess,” he said slowly, his voice shaking in a mix of anger and joy. “I will not leave her to be beaten and bruised.” The boy inhaled deeply, the room suddenly growing cold, and as he exhaled a small puff of steam blew into the air. “The other soldiers in the army would kill even royalty for her safety. But I can’t do that. Not even to the one who hurt my princess so.” Ice crystals began to form on the gold decorations in the room, and the soldiers in the room began to shiver.

Breeze pressed herself against Ryan, fending off the growing cold with the boy’s body heat, and shook lightly in her state of undress. “Ryan,” she whispered, “I’m so cold.”

Ryan lifted the princess into his arms as the room continued to chill. He turned to the Queen and glared, watching as her lips turned blue, and stepped forward. “Let me pass,” he said as flames sprung up beneath his feet, crawling up his legs quickly. “My princess is cold in here.”

The red and orange flames licked the air as they drew up his back, crackling eagerly and engulfing his clothes. Breeze shifted slightly in the boy’s arms, the magic warming her without burning her, and laid her chin on his shoulder. Outside of the room, Ryan set the princess on her feet and turned to the single guard beyond the doorway, the one he had passed when he had entered the room. “Give my princess your clothes,” he ordered. “And hurry, she’s cold.”

“Thank you,” Breeze said, quietly, as the scared girl stripped. Ryan glanced back to the prince’s room, which had warmed significantly since he had left, and caught the eye of a frightened Prince Henry. The Cronois prince spun away from him quickly, rushing out of his line of sight. “Ryan?” the princess called from behind him, laying a hand on his arm.

Ryan turned back to the girl as she slid her feet into the soldier’s shoes, smiling. “Are you still cold, princess?” he asked.

“No,” she said, smiling. “We need to go.”

The flames that had covered Ryan’s body disappeared suddenly, and the boy gasped in pain as he stumbled backward. Blood fell from a small hole in his right shoulder, and as he crumpled to the ground, the wound widened. Aria cried out in surprise and ran toward the boy as a second bullet struck him in his side. She turned and flung a fireball into the dark hallway where the gunshots had come from, momentarily illuminating Lance as he, gun still pointed at Ryan, fired a third shot, the bullet grazing the boy’s neck. “No!” the scarlet-haired girl cried, summoning a bolt of electricity and shooting it at the werewolf wildly.

Lance spun and disappeared into the darkness as the mage’s attack struck the stone wall near his head, sending dust and rock fragments into the air. In an instant he was gone, his lupine speed and knowledge of the Cronois passageways allowing him to easily escape.

Breeze and Aria dropped to Ryan’s side, both crying as they shook him for signs of life. When the boy coughed, the princess stood and dragged him to his feet, and Aria took him into her arms. The girls ran through the hallways briskly, Inyro and Kristen catching them and following closely as they raced toward the exit. “Get a medic!” Breeze shouted, the authority in her voice unmistakable. “I want the best medics we have!”

“Mistress Breeze, there is no medic in Aethon or Cronois who can heal such wounds,” Kristen said gravely, her powerful gait keeping her even with the agile princess.

“Then who can?”

Inyro pulled up between the two. “A hospital,” he said simply. “They have the best chance.”

Soldiers of the Royal Army rushed into enemy passageways, overwhelming the Cronois forces, as aboveground Aria and Breeze rushed to the nearest Mustang GT. Roars of the charging Aethonian soldiers filled the corridors of the underground castle as the Mustang’s powerful engine roared to life, the scarlet-haired girl behind the wheel gunning the engine forcefully. Gunfire and screams of dying soldiers melded with battlecries and the stomping of army boots to produce the rhythm of a deadly song, while the cries of Princess Breeze and Ryan’s pained moans provided a grim melody. Choruses of “Aethon!” and “Cronois!” echoed throughout the underground labyrinth; Breeze pounded the seat above the boy’s head, tears running down her face as she screamed “Ryan! Don’t die, Ryan! Don’t die;” alone with the citizens of Aethon in the forest castle, Gaia began to cry, the stinging pain of a knife in her leg causing her to call out in her sleep, “Help! Help,” her voice muffled by a pillow pressed against her face; back in the Mustang GT, the rhythm and melody and lyrics of a deathly theme ran through Ryan’s head, and he let a single sob escape his lips before slipping into unconsciousness.


----- Part One – END

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_Depression -> RE: Author's Fantasy (8/15/2008 0:44:20)

Part II - Fantasy Shattered


Chapter 23-- “Fantasy Shattered”

My dream was always to create something I could never finish, a world and a universe that would continue to thrive beyond my Death. I spent three long years writing stories that I hoped would fulfill my goals, but I could never create an infinite existence. It seems almost absurd, as I think about it, that a single being could begin an entire, alternate reality. That one being could introduce a series of characters, locations, and relationships, and have it survive beyond a plot and climax.

And yet, I spent all of my free time writing. I loved writing, more than I loved anything or anyone, and I believed I could be the first author to take a single point of existence and create an unending story. I told myself constantly that with the right characters, the right plot, I could discover the secrets to the universe. I could create a world that could sustain itself.

It took me all of three years to realize my problem with that plan. In order to create the story, I needed a plot. But in reality, there is no single plot. Every character had his own plotline- his life. And every community had its own plotline, formed both by the combined plots of its members and by the plots of the infinite other communities in the world. With so many plots, the story would be impossible to write, and I gave up at that point.

But now, I think I might take the idea of an infinite story and work at it once more. But the story would have to be developed differently than any other tale or book. It would be an unwritten story, one that lives on in the heart. One that is lived, and not designed. This story would not be a romance, or a mystery, or a drama. It would be a simple fantasy tale, one with magic, and castles, and beautiful queens that could whisper goodnights into my ear for the rest of my life, and children and friends that could live on and continue this unwritten story in their own hearts.

I read once that an author’s penultimate fantasy was to see his story come alive, to see his plot happen before his eyes. But I disagree. I believe, now, that an author’s fantasy has little to do with the reality of the story, and everything to do with the reality of his characters and their lives. My fantasy is that I may live in my story, with the tale being written on the winds of the past every time I breathe.

My fantasy was, for the most part, realized. And my fantasy was shattered. With three silent pulls of a trigger from a man I considered my ally, my fantasy was smashed. My plotline began to fall apart. Four long weeks after the battle of Cronois Castle at Avon, my princesses, sister and friends at my side every moment, I was released from the hospital and struck with terrible news. A foreign kingdom, one of Cronois’ many allies, had attacked Aethon castle in the dead of night, while those inside slept unaware. The guards and soldiers stationed in the forest castle were slaughtered. Each child was marked by the invaders, a single stab wound to the back of the left thigh three inches deep and three inches long; many of the elderly were murdered in their sleep; the adults, those who were not killed, were brutally tortured.

The kingdom of Ru-Ayl, one of Aethon’s oldest and most trusted allies, was forced to switch its alliances for the safety of its subjects. Many of Aethon’s subjects have abandoned their loyalties and live either in other kingdoms, or in the other dimension of Earth’s population- countries run by governments or parliaments. The royalty of the kingdom is going into hiding, and have cautioned their remaining subjects to do likewise.

I am going along with the sister princesses and a group of close friends - including my sister - to Europe, specifically the Czech Republic. The countryside is dotted with castles and chateaus that belong to many kingdoms, Aethon and Cronois amongst them. The land has become an area of peace between even warring kingdoms, a sanctuary for displaced citizens of the various kingdoms and territories. That is why we are heading to the castle Karlstejn, an Aethonian castle near the central city of Prague.

We want to find these invaders while we stay in the Czech lands, and perhaps work out a peace agreement with them. The safety of my princesses comes first, but the safety of the subjects of Aethon is more important to me than my own safety.

Onto other matters…

I confessed my love to Breeze while she slept in the underground Castle Cronois, but I have so far been unable to do so again. Is it a fear of rejection? No, I doubt it. Princess Robina told me how she and Aria agreed that I would marry Breeze one day. Everyone seems so sure of it… and everyone seems to know. Does that mean Breeze knows? If she does, why has she not mentioned it? Or acted upon it?

My sister Sarah… I have no idea what goes on in her mind. It is obvious that Inyro has feelings for her, but is it true the other way around?

Kristen seems rather distraught. I think Lance’s betrayal was as much a shock to her as it was to the rest of us. Moreso, I suppose, because he is her brother. She has been silent for the last few days, only talking when one of the princesses addresses her. I have no doubts of her loyalty to Aethon, but then again, I had no doubts about Lance’s loyalty.

I noticed recently that Ewan and Gaia have grown into close friends. Ever since he sat with her and comforted her when she was recovering from the stab wound she received, the two of them have been inseparable. I think they may be more than just friends, but they are still young…


The plane is landing now in Prague, and I should stop my writing to assist my princess. Princesses. Sorry, Robina, I forgot you for a second. So, until later then…

-Ryan Aberythstye’s journal, entry recorded 6.13.08


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