Light our Path

- A forum for writers. Poetry in all its forms, short stories, long stories, novels and everything in between welcomed.

Light our Path

Postby Christopher_Moore » Sat Mar 22, 2008 5:33 pm

Candles were finite. They could burn brilliantly, entrancing in their flickering movements. They could cast back the dark, lighting the gloomiest of halls and warding off nightmares from children. But their light had a timespan. Their lives short for all their momentary power.

Jaimon was a candle. As were the others who stood within the hall. Their lights had burned defiantly against the dark for years, in some for decades. But their were approaching their ends. Even as he looked about, the eyes he caught with his own blue eyed gaze were fading, as if those lights were being snuffed out.

As he tore himself away from such thoughts it was as if all sound returned to him with the suddeness of breaking glass. He could hear the moans of the dying and the anguished screams of those who could be saved, but at the cost of a limb. Horns blew, calling for rallies, almost unheard admist the battering, beating drums of the damned. The walls of the hall shook to the sound of thunder, as if some great beast were hurling itself against the very foundations of the castle. And yet somehow in amongst all this noise he could still make out the voice of Anara, the Songstress.

Her dulcet tones sung on unyielding. As long as her voice still carried, Jaimon knew the walls would not fall, the gates would hold and the battlements would still be manned. She sang a song of strength as old as the castle in a language long lost to men. It was at times as quiet as a flowing brook and then rose to a height so great he thought that perhaps his own mind would burst apart. These peaks matched the thunderous crashes, as if she was throwing vocal blows out against that imaginary creature that assailed them.

But how long could she keep it up. He knew how draining that sorcery could be. Many a time she had fainted against the power she was conducting through her own flesh and blood, and had often before come near death. She had kept the song going for hours now, longer than she had done before. He knew this time there would be no waking from the sleep that would take her. This time, the power would break free and consume her. Another spirit to the flame.

"Jaimon!", the gruff call, sounding as fierce as the roaring bear the man was, brought Jaimon full turn, his sword held up in both hands at the ready. There he spied Karval, his bare chest and arms covered in wounds that to a lesser man would have been fatal, but there was no trace of pain in Karval's eyes. Only rage abided there. "A sorcerer Jaimon! They've brought a bloody sorcerer!"

This was what Jaimon had waited for, here amongst the women and children and the wounded and the dying. This was what he was trained for. 'Mage Bane' they called him. Dark magic faltered against his will. There was a price, but, he thought as he listened to Alana, when was there not one?

"Lead on."
Elijah Joshua Karac Vern Van Frazey

"Half Iago, Half Fu Manchu.. all bastard."
User avatar
Posts: 5
Joined: Fri Mar 21, 2008 3:50 pm

Return to Writers Corner

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users