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Memories

#1   Neo 

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    Posted 09 December 2006 - 12:22 PM

    Here is chapter 1 of my new story, called Memories. Chapter 2 is also complete at this point, and I will post it later. Just before posting either of them; I started out chapter 2 with a complete new story in my head, so there is a change both chapters don't fit perfectly.

    -----------


    Memories –

    Prologue;

    The pain in my bones worsens. Every morning when I wake up, I can feel it. Trying not to move a lot, I stay in bed during most of the day. Miranda advised me to move, train and ride more. She said that the reason why the pain becomes worse is because I move so little. I don’t want to listen, I don’t want to feel the pain. Moving means torturing myself. One thing I learned about pain is that you can’t get used to it. Every single day again I close my eyes, I force the tears back, all because the pain is unbearable. How this happened? Some say I’m just getting old, but I know that’s not true. The weight on my shoulders, the years of memories, giving me nightmares and making my life hell; that is the reason. I bow under this weight, I cannot keep this up. I need to talk about it, writing it down, releasing those memories piece by piece.

    This is my story. these are my memories.


    Chapter 1 – An unknown child

    My memories go back all the way when I was still a young child, only six years of age. My mother died at my birth, and my father was an alcoholic. I was taken from my parents by the king, my rightful uncle, and he placed me under the care of one of his bodyguards, named Kenneth. He was good for me – at least, as good as a rough, war-hardened veteran could be for a fragile child – and kept me alive. He fed me, gave me a place to stay, and made sure I didn’t end up dead in the gutter. The city we lived in, Uriël, was a place full of murderers, thieves and other scum. Only the upper quarters of the city contained wealthy, rich people. Of course, a normal soldier didn’t live there. We lived in the worst part of the city, the Dock-area. Men who came back from journeys, ready for take any woman or any victim they saw, were a huge danger.

    Whenever Kenneth had to go to the castle, to serve the king, he took me with me. At the castle, he placed me in the guards quarters, stuffed some food and beer in my hands and warned me not to get in trouble. Of course, I, as a six-year old, curious little boy, didn’t listen to that. As soon as I saw my change, I left the chamber and started exploring the castle. Usually ending up in the hands of a guard who knew me – everybody knew Kenneth, and his lap-dog – and took me back to the quarters, I didn’t get wounded a lot. At the times I managed to get out of the castle, and the road leading down to the city itself, there were times I got attacked by wild animals or bandits. The bandits were the worst. Of course I had nothing on me with real value, so they usually just beat me up and left me on the road. Later that day, when I would be found by a city patroller heading to the castle, I would be brought to the nursery, and Kenneth would find me there, with an angry look. Of course he was angry, but deep inside I know that he had pity with me, that he really felt something for me.

    Even at a later age, when I was somewhat older – around the age of sixteen – and I learned not to wander around, I got into trouble a lot. I was trained with the sword at that time – Kenneth himself taught me, and he was one of the best swordfighters – and I also liked to use it. I got several enemies at the king’s castle, such as the sons of the rich, visiting the king. I once ended up killing one of them, after they started annoying me, and I challenged one. These rich kids didn’t have much skill with a sword, and preferred reading a good book, thus were no challenge for me.

    One day, on a sunny afternoon, when Kenneth was almost done with his shift, I was sitting in the garden, focussing on a delicious can of beer. The garden, called the Queen’s Place, was a large open space with several trees. A certain pattern was made with all kinds of plants, creating a beautiful, but simple place to relax. It was always rather quiet there, since most people thought only the queen was allowed there; that was not true, everybody was allowed.

    Suddenly I felt a stinging pain in my head. I dropped my can, reached for my head, and felt the warm substance of thick blood. Looking at my hands, I saw they were covered in blood. I looked around, and about twenty feet away, two boys were laughing, pointing at me. They were about my age, but I could see from their clothes they these boys were from the higher circle. Without even thinking, I stood up, rushed towards them, and unsheathed my sword. Pointing it at one of the boys, who probably threw the stone, I yelled out loud. “Not a smart idea. Draw your weapon, coward.”

    He looked at me, and I saw a sparkle in his eye; he was up to something. It seemed as these boys were already expecting me to jump up – I was known for getting angry a lot – and both drew their swords at the same time. I was outnumbered, two to one, but I could not think clearly anymore, and I charged.

    One of them parried my first attack – though I nearly cut his arm – while the other already trusted forwards, aiming at my stomach – if I would die they would simply tell the guards it was self defence – but I was able to move around the tip of the sword. Now aiming lower, I swung again, and although the left one managed to dodge my attack partially, I still cut his leg. He screamed out of agony, and stumbled backwards; it was now a one versus one battle. We fiercely attacked each other, parrying and reposting most attacks. I was getting the upper hand, and slowly started to drive him back. He thought he was smart, and all of a sudden stepped forward and sliced down from above his head. I, however, had expected this move, and moved sideways avoiding the slice. He was not open to attacks, and I stepped towards the right once again, and stabbed my sword towards his chest. He was too late to react, and I saw my sword sinking into his chest, just above his heart. Blood started flowing out, and although he opened his mouth, no sound came out. Moments later he fell on his knees, and died even before hitting the ground.

    This murder did not go unnoticed, and I was called in front of the king himself. Standing before his throne and the king, surrounded by several guards, Kenneth, and the parents of the murdered boy, I knew that was I had done was wrong, though I felt no regret at all.

    The room where we stood was the King’s private room. His throne – a small one – was placed directly in the middle against the wall. Left of the throne was his bed, and on the opposite side a desk. The other side of the room had a fireplace with a lazy chair in front of it. Above the throne there were flags, each representing a state of the Kingdom. It was a simple, but clean chamber.

    “Jimmy, Jimmy… What have you done?” the king said, shaking his head.

    “I didn’t start,” was my only reply, and I knew it sounded childish.

    The murdered boy’s father stood up, his eyes red from tears. “That did not give you the right to murder him! You killed a boy who did not even reached adulthood!” He now turned towards the king. “I demand his death!”

    Kenneth, always calm of nature, turned around, and faced the father. “Please sit down, sir. The king will decide whether he will die or not, not you.”

    I turned my face towards the king again.

    “Jimmy,” the King said. “What have you done?” He said, once again. The king loved me as his son, since he did not have one, and he would never want to kill me, but rules were rules.

    “Please, sire, let me explain in detail,” I answered, hoping to get a bit more time.

    “Then do so, my son.”

    “I was sitting in the queen’s garden, enjoying some tasty ale, when I suddenly felt a stinging pain in my head. One of the boys had thrown a rock towards my head, explaining the bleeding I had, and still have at this point. Because of this pain, I could not think clearly anymore, and this caused to me overreact. The pain had taken control, and because of that I had drawn my sword. But both my opponents did the same, and it was a two to one fight. I managed to take out one, only to protect myself. At the moment the fight started I regretted of starting it, but I knew that I would get killed if I would stop fighting, thus tried to harm both only a little so that neither would die or get severe wounds. Unfortunately, one of them died.”

    It seemed as the king was sleeping – his eyes closed, his hands folded on his legs – but I knew better. When he was like this, he was thinking. He did not know what to do. Finding me guilty, for killing a boy, was reasonable. There was no doubt I killed one while I did not have to. But on the other hand, could this case be cleared as self defence? It seemed like it took ages before he came to a conclusion. He opened his eyes.

    Just before he started speaking, I saw a tear rolling down his cheek, and I already bowed my head.

    “I’m sorry, Jimmy,” he said, with a crackling voice, full of emotion.

    #2   Sea of Time 

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      Posted 09 December 2006 - 02:51 PM

      Neo, your story is great so far. The introspective passages are amazing and the plot is addictive so far. I hope to see more soon.

      #3   Neo 

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        Posted 11 December 2006 - 11:16 AM

        Well, since there are no further replies -- thanks for yours SoT -- I'll just post chapter 2.

        ---

        Chapter 2 – Gone

        “Not fair,” I yelled. “Not fair!”

        I stepped back, leaning against the hard, cold wall and lifting my head, trying to force back the tears which were about to take control. It was so difficult, and I wished I had a knife to kill myself, just so I wouldn’t have to wait any longer.

        The cell I was placed in was probably one of the more comfortable places in the local prison, but still it was cold, wet and dark. It was 7 feet both ways, and had a small window, strengthened by thick steel bars crossways, granting view on the execution-square, as it was called. A large wooden door with bars was the only entrance to my cell. In the left corner a small bed was placed and in the opposing corner there was a small jar for when he had to go.

        “I didn’t start,” I yelled once again, but my voice was low and crackling from all the screaming. Nonetheless, I kept yelling, and I knew that the guards in front of the door were frustrated by it, and also a bit confused. But I did not care, I cared for nothing anymore. I was going to die within two days…

        I shook my head, stepped forward, grabbed the thick, cold bars and pushed my head against it. Once again, my mouth opened and a mix of harsh words and vile language left my throat. This time, however, someone walked towards me.

        “Shut up, Jimmy,” the man said.

        I recognized him; it was Cleren, a newly assigned knight-lieutenant in the Royal Legion. I looked at him, moved my head backwards and when I moved it forward again, I spit in his face. Maybe he already expected this, as he had a little towel ready to clean his face. I hoped that he would open the door and beat me – that did not happen usually, but you never knew with new officers – so that he would be prosecuted, and my death would be placed to a later time. But that did not happen. Instead he shrugged, and looked me directly in the eyes.

        “Jimmy…” He started, but decided to call me by my full, official name; “James Lightmoore, don’t you understand?” Cleren started over, and sighed.

        “Take it like a man, Jimmy. Do you hear any other people screaming their lungs out here? No, because they have accepted their fait. They have accepted the fact that they are going to die and there is not a damn thing they can do about it. I advise you to do the same, and stop crying like a baby.”

        At that point my cheeks turned red. He was right, I knew it, I had known it all along, but suddenly it came crashing down on me. I turned around, completely in shock, and I believe it was that point where I realized that I was actually going to die, and that I would simply stop existing.

        I once again turned around, and looked at Cleren, who was still there. I couldn’t resist it anymore. I wanted to act like a man, be a man. But who was I, a sixteen-year-old boy, thinking that he was a man.

        While looking at Cleren, the first tear rolled down my cheeks, past the lines of my lips, down to my chin, and fell down on the hard ground, followed by more tears. They suddenly started pouring out, and I closed my eyes to stop it. My knees felt liquid, and I stepped forward, grabbing the bars. Cleren was still standing there.

        “Why, Cleren, why?” was all I said, and I crashed down at the door, pulled my knees up to my chin and made myself a little ball. I didn’t care anymore, and let my tears flow freely.

        “Now that,” Cleren said, ironically, “does happen with the other prisoners.”

        He was about to walk away, but stopped. He looked trough the bars, down to Jimmy.

        “Why, you ask? Simple, my friend; you are a murderer. It may sound harsh, but it’s true.” He probably knew that was he just sound had to crash in like a quarrel from a crossbow, thus revised his words.

        “We all have to do sometimes, Jimmy. Tomorrow is your time.”

        --

        I opened my eyes, and it felt like someone had thrown a handful of sand in my eyes. At first I didn’t know where I was, but then I remembered. I was lying on the ground, at my door instead of in my bed, and it was the day of my execution. I closed my eyes once again, not wanting to live this moment. All I wanted to do was sleep, sleep trough my execution.

        A stinging pain went trough my spine, as the hard wooden door hit my back. The guards didn’t know I was lying there, and thus had thrown the door open at full speed. I screamed, and rolled sideways, and was about to draw my sword when I once again remembered the time and place.

        The guard in the door was and old veteran, called Sergeant Ramir. He had long passed the age of sixty, and what was left of his hair was tight back in a short ponytail. Seeing his size, one could see he was fond of good food. It was a friendly man, and I could see that the sergeant found it hard to take me with him. He tied neither my hands nor feet, but just asked me to walk with the men. I obeyed, and walked behind the sergeant, with another soldier behind me.

        We entered the execution-square, where more people had joined up. There were several other criminals about to be hanged, and I sided by them. Together we walked up the wooden stage, whilst a large man, stuffed in the newest clothes, summed up the crimes. My list was the shortest, only one sentence. Several people make amazed sounds when hearing such a short list, and he heard one man complaining that a young kid like me didn’t have to die like that.

        The guards ignored the citizens, and tied the prisoners’ hands and feet. After that they asked each prisoner if he wanted to have a black hood over his face, so that people would not have to see their struggle to survive, if they did not die when falling down. I passed, as I wanted to look into the eyes of the king, also present, when dying.

        Even before knowing what actually happened, I felt someone putting the rope over my head. I leaned forward, making it easier for the man to get my head trough the hole. I heard a mumbling thanks when the guard walked to the next victim, who made it a lot harder for the guard. I smiled; James Lightmoore was going to die with dignity.

        I looked down, at the box where I was standing on, and wondered whether I would die fast, by breaking my neck, or that I would survive the fall and had to choke. I hoped I would die instantly… or rather, not. I wanted to King to see him struggle.

        Suddenly one guard yelled; “Now!”

        I did not even have time to gasp for breath. The guards behind us kicked away the boxes we were standing on, and I lost grip. For a mere second I was falling, but it seemed like a decade. Then, all of a sudden, the rope around my neck tightened, and the last thing I heard was a snap, the sound of my breaking neck. Everything turned dark, but I knew I died with a smile on my face.

        --

        I was happy. I was surrounded by nothing but blackness, but I was happy. It all felt comforting, peaceful… simple. I needed nothing more then this. This had to be heaven. It was perfect… This was home.

        “Wake up, James.”

        Suddenly I was pulled back to the cold, irritating, hateful useless place which was called Life.

        #4   Sea of Time 

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          Posted 13 December 2006 - 10:53 AM

          Very graphic, and very good. It's a shame the fanfic forum has gone by the wayside, especially for non-GS pieces. But you have a great thing going, and I will continue reading.

          #5   Neo 

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            Posted 13 December 2006 - 03:56 PM

            Thanks, SoT :P. I will start chapter 3 tomorrow, since I worked the last few days full-time.

            #6   gsninja 

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              Posted 13 December 2006 - 07:47 PM

              Very impressive. Write more so I can read more, please. :P

              #7   Neo 

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                Posted 01 February 2007 - 01:49 AM

                Just a little bump with an update. It's been some time since I worked on this story, mostly cause I had tentams week and this pc was broken. Fixed and all now, so I will continue the story.

                --------

                Chapter 3 - Secrets

                “James.”

                I didn’t know where I was. It was dark, and I could barely open my eyes. I knew that there was someone in front of me, but I couldn’t see the person very well. I also knew that it was a woman. To me it seemed like forever before she talked again.

                “James, wake up.”

                I now opened my eyes. All of a sudden, a bright light came into my view, and I screamed out of agony. The light burned my eyes. I moved my hands – although it went awful slowly – towards my face, trying to cover my eyes. With my hand in front of my eyes, I talked.

                “Where am I?” My voice sounded older then I remembered, but it also sounded clear, as from a musician, someone who had been practising his voice for a long time. I remembered that I was hanged… I died!

                Like she read my mind, she answered; “Yes, you died. But you are now alive. Stand up, James.”

                I wasn’t sure whether my legs would cooperate, but nonetheless I tried. And strangely enough my legs reacted, and I was able to stand up. I could now see the woman that was talking to me.

                She was rather tall. Her dark hair reached her waist, and her deep blue eyes contrasted with the rest of her toned skin. Not that she was black. She had some kind of Quegian colour, from down the south. She also talked with a light accent. She wasn’t pretty, but neither was she ugly. She had something strange, something charming. He small, long face was strengthened by her larger cheek lines, and she had a small nose. Her high forehead carried a strange mark. Some sort of a start, but then little different.

                “My name is Miranda, James. Come with me.”

                Without waiting for an answer, she moved away from me, towards something that looked like a door. When she came near it, it automatically opened, and after she walked trough it, it once again closed. I also walked there, and I noticed my fierce and easy-going walk. But before I reached the door, I passed a mirror.

                It struck me. The person I saw in the mirror wasn’t me. I had always been a bit thick. Large shoulders, big upper legs and a small extra chin. Even with those aspects I always managed to move freely and agile. I used to have red hair and freckles, but the person I saw had nothing of that.

                He was large, had broad shoulders and a trained body. I had no shirt on, so I could see the muscles throughout my arms and stomach. I saw brown hair, reaching the shoulders, and a shaved, clean face.

                “Your old body was way too messed up, thus we had to find you a new one.”

                Miranda returned to my room, probably since it took me a long time to leave it. She was smiling, because she saw the confused look on my face. He nodded, and ordered me to follow her.

                We reached a long, but empty corridor. The stones were old and mossy, and to me it seemed like we had entered a sewer. We walked towards another door, and entered the next room.

                It was small, and just as empty as the hall. The only difference was that there was a table placed in the middle, with some bread and water on it. I looked at her, and she nodded; I was allowed to eat.

                Whilst taking a seat and breaking a piece of the leaf of bread, I kept looking at her. She was just staring at me, like I was very important and I was something to study. As I took a bite of the bread, I tasted how well it was baked, but also recognized ingredients we used in the castle. We had to be in the jails beneath it. She was probably some sort of a secret agent.

                “Well, James. Here we are. Before I am going to explain everything that happened, and what will happen. I first have a question for you. What do you know of magic?”

                I was stunned. Magic was a fable, a myth. It was something only kids believed. I said what I was thinking and I saw her face change. Before it was friendly, but now it hardened, and I knew she was insulted.

                “No, Jimmy, it is not a myth. How else do you explain your new body?” she replied. I didn’t have an answer.

                “Well, since it seems you know nothing about it, I will inform you.”

                She leaned back, as she was about to start a long story.

                “Magic is everything,” she said. “Magic is the bread you are holding, the stones surrounding us, the heart beating in your body. Magic comes from the word mana, which is the source for everything that lives and exists. We magicians use mana for other things than the normal procedures created by the Gods. Magic controls everything, keeps things in balance, and, when one is trained in it, can also change those things. We are able to manipulate the mana to our will, commanding it to change things. If I wanted, I would be able to change the mana inside of you, and make your heart stop beating. It is a matter of practice, and skill. Have you ever wondered how your heart was able to beat, how your brains are able to work, and how those two things work together you make your muscles move? It is because the Gods control the magic, and they use it to let you live.

                In the stories told to kids, people create fireballs, summon creatures and destroy worlds. But there is not told how this is done. Creating a fireball is not that hard. Gather the mana in your hand, and command it to burn. Whether mana makes you live, or just burns up does not matter, as long as it is used.

                But we must be careful, especially these days. In the last decade, we magicians are weakening. At first we didn’t know how why, but at this point we are rather certain. The mana is running out. Every time you use the mana to your will, to create or manipulate life, you use up that mana. Living alone does not burn up much mana, and because it also regenerates in small bits, there would stay a balance. But we magicians were ignorant, and starting to use it to our own will, without thinking whether there was a limit. Now we found one, we are in trouble. There are also magicians who are evil, who use their talents to destroy and kill, and they will not stop using it. If they will continue this for long, at one point everything will just stop existing. It was simply said; disappear. That is, as I said, because everything is made of mana. If there is no mana, there is no stone. If there is no mana, there is no life.”

                She leaned forward, and placed her arms on the table.

                “And that is why,” she pointed at me. “We need you.”

                “Me?” I asked, frowning.

                “Yes, you. You are not just somebody. Even when you were born we were already watching you. You don’t know your father right?”

                “No.”

                “His name was Minwabi, an old and wise magician. He was already over two hundred years old when you were born. He gave his powers to you, but he locked them. It was up to you to find and release those powers. He did not say, however, that it was forbidden to help you find it. Now you also know why you are not allowed to die, thus we had to find you a new body. We dug up a still complete body, restored it with our magic, and placed your mind in it. Now you are here, alive and well, ready to help the world of it’s doom.”

                “this… this is a bit too much information. I need to think about this,” I answered.

                “Of course. If you leave this room, turn left, the third door on your right hand it your room. Go there, sleep, and think.”

                I left, went to my room, closed the door, and slept in my bed.

                #8   Platinum Sun 

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                    Posted 01 February 2007 - 03:04 PM

                  This is pretty sweet! The whole predestined event thing is a great opener. I don't have much else to say because not a lot else has happened. I look forward to more though.


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