The Talisman and the Sword

[sonnetinkinston]

[OK guys, I'll post the first part of this story. If I get a call for more, it'll continue. If not, then I'll let it lie. It's up to ya'll]

When I entered the room, I could feel the change in the air. It was the sort of waiting usually associated with the anticipation of a rampaging bull or the admiration of a beautiful but deadly manticore. Yet I was neither. And yet they feared me.

The children were all crowded around the room in pairs or threes, but the murmuring stopped as I entered and faces turned in my direction. My gaze only took this in on a secondary level, however, for my eyes were on no one but Joey.

"Why did you come, Sonnet?" he said, his tone dead with resignation. "Why couldn't you leave well enough alone?"

And in that one moment, I realized what he had never stated for fear of breaking our unspoken boundaries. He knew.

[GeneralMHB]

I was just curious. Who is Sonnet? Who is Joey? Are they married? What's the time period of the story? I was just wondering because not all of the story is there. Are the readers suppose to figure all this out as we continue reading or is this just a section of the story cut from the center of the book?

[K Man]

I have to agree actually...

This is like a taste...a good taste, but only a taste.

Needless to say, I'm hungry...keep it going.

[sonnetinkinston]

[to answer your question, General, the story is a prologue of a much longer work. It actually takes place later on in the story.]

[and here we go]

There is a school of thought that claims that a it is impossible to remember anything before the age of 3. I beg to differ. My first memory is of darkness, and of attempting to crawl out of my bed without making too much noise. There were badguys about.

I moved over to my brothers bed, shaking him, and communicating through thought just as we always had, "Brian, there's trouble."

His eyes, which mirrored my own shade of cerulean blue, peered up at me. "I know. We have to get to Mom and Dad."

It was then we smelled the smoke. Intelligent though we were, even at that age, fear began to fill us both as the temperature began to rise. We had hardly begun to move towards the door when it burst in upon it's hinges, kicked forward by the darkly clad soldiers we had feared.

"Grab the girl, she's the important one." A gruff voice commanded. Brian and I clung to one another, but our young arms were no match for the veteran soldiers, and soon we were pulled apart.

I'll find you, sis. Whatever it takes. And then he was gone.

We had barely cleared the wreckage of our cottage home, however, before my own fate was to change once more. As the soldier moved into the woods, intent upon reaching base camp, I was suddenly sent flying into the arms of a woman with a pale face, framed by jet black hair. I could see the crumpled soldier on the ground nearby, his neck at an odd angle from the damage it had just received from the woman.

I stuck a contemplative thumb in my mouth, and the woman smiled. "We shall call you Sonnet."

[Zarni]

interesting style, light hearted and autobiographical. i like it.
are you the main character, by any chance?
have you got any feedback for me on my stories?

[GeneralMHB]

Nice, very very nice

Anyone who doesn't know what this woman is doesn't know the undead very well (All the hints I'm giving you, don't wanna spoil it for anyone)

[sonnetinkinston]

GeneralMHB said:

Nice, very very nice

Anyone who doesn't know what this woman is doesn't know the undead very well (All the hints I'm giving you, don't wanna spoil it for anyone)

General, not only are you giving too many hints, but about the wrong story. You haven't read all my works, you know.

[sonnetinkinston]

[next installment]

Now, move forward three years, and you have my next memory. I was sword fighting with Joey... okay, so it's not really sword fighting when you're using two sticks. But you couldn't tell us that. Joey, the son of the raven haired beauty who had rescued me that fateful day, was my perfect counterpart: stubborn, determined, headstrong, and all at the age of six. We knew the purpose of our lives just as sure as we breathed in the air of the woods every day. We were meant to kill Julian, the most hated of enemies, and the man responsible for the growning destruction of our world. We were very adamant about this belief, and shared it with all who would listen. This was usually met, at least by the older people of the village, with a nostalgic laugh as they reminisced about their own childhood fantasies.

All but a chosen few, that is. Four to be exact.

[sonnetinkinston]

[next installment, a little longer this time]

The first of these anomolies was Joey's actual, and my surrogate, mother. This woman, who from the day she had rescued me from Julians soldier and brought me to the village, had taken me in and raised me as her own. It was she who had worked with me through those first few weeks as I realized that no one could understand me. No one could interpret my thoughts as Brian always had, and I felt an even more keen sense of loss for my brother as time went by. But Joey was a distraction, even if he couldn't fill the void left by Brian, so I survived.

It was actually Kitty's explanation of the word orphan which had brought on the particular sword battle I remember so vividly. It had taken a while, but I had finally realized that in her own way, she was trying to explain why I looked like no one else in Siandon Village. While I was a common sight to the villagers themselves, and the soldiers which were required in every village in Fertilia, strangers often remarked on my presence. The quiet ones simply followed me with their eyes, the bolder ones actually commenting to the trader or craftsman they'd come to see about my beauty. And me? I ignored it as much as I could. My beauty, in my eyes, was an exotic distraction in swordplay, and nothing else. Good looks never won a battle.

The second person who took me seriously in my dreams of Julians downfall also regarded me as her namesake. Sonnetara, the leader of Siandon Village, was many things: warrior, politician, leader, delgator, poet, and beauty. What she was not was sentimental. So in spite of the fact that her sister was my caretaker, Joey's aunt Sonnetara kept her distance.

[sonnetinkinston]

[inspired by the much greater literary talent of the site moderator, I continue my story with greater zest.]

The third believer... he was a character in himself. Over the years, I have progressed from a fear and awe to an almost grudging respect for Drako. He had always treated me as any other child, with domineering scorn. He was an outsider, someone who had traveled far and bore his own exotic era. But he was also an adapter, and soon found his place among the small community. He was a weapons maker, of a caliber far exceeding the work of our blacksmith Tiger, and took on ceremonial work for Julain's occupational forces. These, however, he regarded with his own sense of loathing. As did the rest of us.

The last supporter of our goals was also the most influential man in our young lives: Shadow. He was the teacher of the upcoming children of the village in the ways of swordplay, hand-to-hand combat, battle strategy, and the like. All under the guise of training soldiers for our most hated enemy. I smile even as I write this, for that man was one of the most inspirational and influential of my life. He was also the first man I almost killed; the first of many.

Those who completed their training under Shadow would progress to being available as threpi, or apprentices to the warrior trade. Without a doubt, Joey and I had always known this was our fate. But how quickly and mightily it would take ourlives we could never fathom.

It was that one swordfight which, I believe, sealed our fate. We had a visitor, watching from the deeper part of the forest around our practice field. Shadow recognized our need to feel useful, our already apparent skill in spite of our lack of training, and took and unprecedented leap. As he slowly approached us, Joey was the first to see him, and got my attention by smacking me sharply with his stick, proving he had been letting me win. I turned around.

Shadow dressed as he always had, in the clothing which inspired his nickname: black as the darkest night. Dark hair and eyes only added to the appearance of a coiled beast: beautiful and dangerous. But on this day, his eyes were sympathetic. He said only one thing.

"What do you want to become as you grow older?"

With no hesitation, no confusion, Joey and I chorused our answer.

"A warrior."

He graced us with what we soon would know to be a very rare grin, and we began our training the next day. The path of our lives had truly begun.

[Zarni]

go for it.