Resurfacing old stories

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Hey guys!  I totally bailed on you last week.  I managed to come up with a pretty decent guest blog for my new project, Scribbles and Scales, over at Raving Wild, but I might have got side-tracked (mumbles about Diablo 3).  Feel free to check out my post for S&S from last week, and be ready for my new one that I’ll be putting up today!

I also just realized that Monday was Ink-stained Daydreams one year birthday!!!  I’ve got to say that this last year has honestly been a blast.  My writing and social networking has gone in directions I never imagined.  I really appreciate everybody that stopped by with their likes and comments, and especially those of you that have followed my humble word child.  You guys make writing this blog worth it each week!  My birthday was also back on May 31, but meh.  I still feel the same.

Anyways, not much new going on though, just trying to put the finishing touches on my Grim5Next short story and as such, haven’t really written up anything new for you guys.  I am thinking about starting up a new short story mini-series on here, just for you guys,  but at the moment I am lacking the time to really get it going.  Therefore, I thought I’d dig up another one of my old stories.  This is actually the second version/attempt at beginning “The Oblivion Soul”, but I scrapped it, on account of it leading towards a vampire story, right at the same time that everybody else began doing vampire stories.  Either way, I still think it was a pretty good opening.  Let me know what you think.  I love critiques, negative as well as positive.  Anyways, without further ado, here you go!

The room was warm.  The fire crackling in the fireplace kept the chill of the storm at bay.  The firelight made the shadows dance around the room, jumping off of the varying bookcases and the pair of chairs that were placed in front of the fireplace.  It was a room he was very familiar with, even though he had been gone for almost five years.  It was a room that should have given his shaken mind some comfort, but then, there was the blood.

There was so much blood.  Jera could never have imagined how much blood was actually inside a person without having seen this grizzly spectacle.  There were pools of it welling up underneath the bodies of his parents, reflecting a crimson distortion of his face that both frightened and enthralled him.  But just as quickly as the pools began to grow, they began to diminish as the blood forced itself through the cracks in the floorboards.  He found himself utterly confused by the emotions flooding his mind.  He wanted to cry and scream, they were his parents after all.  However, the sound of pattering blood and the stench of the sanguine fluid overwhelming his senses, kept him strangely calm if somewhat agitated.  He hardly had time to register his lack of emotions before a calm clear voice, like the sound of a gentle river cutting through a silent meadow, sliced through the horrid silence and brought him out of his thoughts.

“This wasn’t what I had planned, brother.”

The voice belonged to his brother, Kalym.  Almost a mirror image of his twin, the young man had smooth flawless features, and eyes that shined with the brilliance of emeralds.  The only distinguishable difference between the brothers was the cut and style of their scarlet hair.  While Jera had grown his hair out and pulled it into dreadlocks, Kalym had kept it short with bangs that hung down to his eyes.  As Kalym stepped out of the shadows, Jera saw his brother’s body was encased in a suit of plate armor, yet there wasn’t a doubt that Kalym still had just as much of a lean, yet stocky, muscular physique as himself.  His brother’s armor shifting with the young man’s graceful movement, sounded like the chorus of a lone wind chime gently swaying in the wind.  Jera also took notice of the crimson tear drop, the symbol of the Church of the One Blood, embossed on the front of Kalym’s chest plate.

“They needn’t have pointlessly lost their lives.  I came here for you.  But they were fools and tried to stand between you and me.”

“Why did you come here for me?” Jera asked as he found it harder to control his mirth as each crystalline word trickled out of his brother’s mouth.  “I told you five years ago that I had no desire to have anything to do with the Church or you for that matter.  And yet, I find you here standing over the bodies of our… our… OUR PARENTS!”

“You may not want anything to do with the Church, but Cyrillia has plans for you none-the-less.  And I have already explained about our… parents,” he said the final word with a sneer as if speaking it left an unsavory taste in his mouth.  “Now I give you a choice.  Come with me willingly, or I will be forced to convince you of the logic of following me.”

“Rot in hell, you bastard,” Jera said with open malice shining in his eyes.

“Ah, but brother, I am one of the Chosen of Cyrillia.  I am in her favor and she is the mother goddess of us all.  She has already promised me a place in her kingdom at her side, and if you behave I can promise you a spot at her side as well.”

Jera continued to stare at his brother without saying anything.  Then, in a split second he was charging towards Kalym, his daggers drawn forth from their sheaths in the blink of an eye.  He sent his blades slicing in with a stabbing motion, but before they could hit there mark, Kalym swung out a hand and slammed Jera’s face with the back of his gauntlet, sending him flying back across the room to where he had started. 

Jera found himself dizzy and disoriented from the blow.  And the pain… the pain was exquisite.

Exquisite? he thought to himself.

He didn’t understand what he could find exquisite about the violent throbbing, yet as he pushed himself out of the stupor he did indeed realize that something about the pain made him feel more alive.  He didn’t have long to contemplate it though, for as his vision cleared he realized that Kalym was drawing near and that his fist was glowing with a brilliant white light.

“Well, I see you are unwilling to come with me, so I’ll just have to convince you of the splendor of Cyrillia’s power.  Perhaps after my demonstration you will realize the wisdom in giving her your obedience as well as your faith.”

The words weren’t spoken in hatred or anger, in fact they were spoken without any emotion at all, and in that moment Jera actually began to feel fear for his own life creep into his thoughts.  He watched as Kalym raised his armored hand, still radiating the pure white light, and he snapped his fingers, the sound more of a click of metal rather than an actual snap.  Out of thin air a pair of red robed figures appeared.  Jera could find no trace of emotion from them, their faces hidden by the cowls of their robes, but their intentions were made clear quickly as they each grabbed him by his arms and legs and pinned him to the floor.  Kalym walked up slowly, brandishing a dagger in his radiant hand.

“I promise this will be excruciating, brother.”

And with those words he grabbed Jera by his scarlet locks just before his blade gashed Jera’s face, from his forehead, across his left eye, all the way down to the middle of his cheek.  The pain that surged through Jera’s brain set his skull afire and racked the rest of his body with intense seizing motions.  As the blade pierced his flesh he felt an intense searing as if the blade were afire.  The scream that pierced through the silence of the night, left Kalym’s and the two robed figures ears ringing.  The sound never even registered in Jera’s mind at all.  All of his perceptions had shut down aside for his sense of pain.  He couldn’t see, his vision had gone black, and his ears were ringing.  The only thing that mattered was the pain, as it screamed throughout his head and embraced his very soul like a pool of blades would embrace the flesh.

Then from the dark recesses of his mind, he heard a voice calling out his name.  It was a mellow, yet firm voice.  It was clearly masculine and had such a pristine clarity to it.  And while the pain that kept his body from functioning persisted, his vision began to clear and the pain in his mind dulled as the voice gave him something more important and wondrous to focus on.

Jera, the voice spoke to him.  You can fight through the pain.  Focus on my voice.  Forget what the pain is doing to you, then harness it.

Jera’s vision had finally cleared but only in his right eye.  But that was enough to see that the two robed figures were standing at his feet conversing with Kalym.  He couldn’t make out what they were saying, and his body still convulsed from the pain of his brother’s attack.

Focus, Jera.  If you wish to survive and escape, you must focus and make it through the pain.  Focus on my voice.

The more the voice spoke, the less Jera felt the pain.  Slowly, the pain began to leave his torso and head then eventually it was gone save for a minor tingling that still lingered in his fingers and toes.  His hearing came back after a few moments.  Kalym having noticed that his brother’s spasms had ceased, came over to him.

“Well, brother, I daresay you shook that off rather fast.  Shall we try another dose of Cyrillia’s power?”

“NO!  Please…,” Jera gasped through a very hoarse voice.

“Then am I to understand that you are ready to come with me?”

You must flee quickly, the voice spoke to him once again.  Do whatever you must but you do not want to go with them.

“Yes, Kalym, I will go with you.  Please just don’t hurt me again,” Jera whimpered, partly a ruse but mostly genuine as he still felt an intense searing sensation at his left eye and the tingling sensation still lingered in his extremities.

“Good, brother.  Now stand up and clean yourself off.  We’ll be leaving shortly.”

Jera began to rise, and as he did he saw his means of escape, at least he hoped it would help him escape.  Not but a few inches from him were his daggers.  As he rose, he pivoted his body to a better angle to reach the pair of blades.  Seeing Jera begin to rise, Kalym looked over his shoulder to the robed figures and said something that Jera was unable to understand.

It didn’t matter however, for the time for his escape was at hand.  He stretched his arms out as he spun around, grasping the hilts of the daggers.  Continuing his pivot, he brought the blades slicing through the air aimed straight for his brother’s arm where he had noticed a gap in the plate armor.  Kalym looked back at Jera just in time to see him strike his blow.  The blades sunk in deep, piercing through the backside of Kalym’s arm.  Not hesitating for a second, Jera pulled both daggers in opposite direction, severing bone and sinew.  The lower part of Kalym’s arm fell away in a bloody mess that sprayed forth and splattered across Jera’s face, while Kalym let out a terrible scream.  It would have normally caused Jera to pause, but the voice was screaming at him to run now, while he had the element of surprise.  He didn’t waste any time.  His pivot had ended, leaving him facing the exit to the room.  He began to sprint as fast as he could, and soon he found himself outside of his family’s house, racing through the night with a terrible storm raging all around him.

* * *

Kalym waited a few minutes to make sure that Jera was indeed out of sight before he picked up his arm and placed the bloody limb up to the stump that was left.  One of the robed figures came up to him rubbing his hands together.  The figure placed his hands at the point of the cut and wrapped them around the young man’s arm.  Once the figure pulled his hands away the arm was re-attached as if it had never been severed.

“Are you going to chase him, Lord Kalym?” the figure asked with a voice that made no attempt to hide the reverence that it showed the young man.

“No, he’s not ready, and we know where he’ll end up at,” Kalym responded.  “We’ll give him a bit more time to learn the truth and to come to terms with what we are offering him.”

“Of course, Lord Kalym.”

Hope you guys enjoyed it.  Cheers!

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