(Fantasy Story without a name, chapter One) DarkPhoenix

Here's something I wrote. As with everything i write i thought it'd be good when I was writing it, but now that i'm done, i think it's, well...crap. Still, maybe you'll enjoy it, and I really would prefer not to have wasted an hour writing this, so.....

Chapter One

"Kazzadan. This mythological figure was worshipped as a God by the ancient Orc tribes of Sarradur. First appearing in the scrolls of, scrolls of, eh..." Kern's face contorted in frustration as he tried to pronounce the strange word.

"Oh I give up!" he exclaimed, flinging the dog-eared book against his bedroom wall.

"Hey! Those don't come cheap y'know" said his best friend Reshal, leaning lazily against the doorframe. His boots were caked in mud, his shirt torn in several places, and his long black hair in disarray.

"You're one to talk Reshal Rokefein, been sneaking out again have we?" retorted Kern.

"Bah, there's no harm in having a little fun in the tavern after dark. Those crusty old monks can't expect us to stay locked up in this boring old place ten days a week can they? There's a lot more to life then this big dank monastery."

Kern frowned and ran a hand through his wavy blonde hair.

"Yeah well, you can drink yourself sick all night if you want. Some of us actually need to study for tests like these," he muttered, reaching for one of the heavy tomes that adorned their small, rickety bookshelf.

"No! I completely forgot. Dam* it, I don't wanna stay back another year in this creepy hellhole," yelled Reshal, his head in his hands.

"Oh, come now, it's hardly your fault," said Kern sympathetically. "I entirely understand how you could forget, I mean, you've got so many more important things to worry about, like erm..." Kern sniggered and burried his face in his book.

Sighing, Reshal collapsed on his bed, grabbing a book and flicking it open.

"Chapter One, the Religious Hierarchy of the Ugwa Tribe-" Reshal groaned and rolled his eyes. "Who writes this stuff?"

"Do you mind? I'm trying to study"

"And no pictures either!"

"Are you deaf?"

"What sane person would actually find this remotely interesting?" Reshal rolled over onto his stomach and reached for another book.

"Culinary practises of the Ugwa tribe, A study of the Great Ugwa Political leaders? The role of Women in Ugwa society, Ugwa medicine and the-OWW!"

Reshal rubbed his jaw, where the corner of the book had left a bruise. Kern hadn't even looked up, just went on reading. He'd always had a passion for archery and had the best eye for miles around. Reshal had often teased him about it, figure the reason why Kern liked archery so much was that he didn't have to get anywhere near his opponent in a fight.

"This is no fun, where's Jhanros?" yawned Reshal.

"I don't know, haven't seen him since Archery practise this morning. Now would you please be quiet and let me study? Or do I have to find something harder then a book?"

"Forget it then, I'm gonna catch some sleep, the test will have to wait." Said the sleepy Reshal, asleep, even before his head hit the pillow.





Chapter Two.

Reshal was standing in an enormous field, naked and cold in the dew soaked grass. He knew he was dreaming, he always knew, but never before had a dream been so vivid. He looked up at the vast night sky in awe. The clouds, like sinister wraiths, flew at alarming speed across the multitude of stars. The stars, there was something "wrong" about them. He didn't know how else to describe it. They looked twisted, like a reflection in a mirror.

Suddenly, there was a flash, and one of the stars suddenly fell from the sky in a blaze of fire, streaking across the night sky. It was soon followed by another, and another, until a huge, empty void was appearing in the sky.

There was someone in the field. A tall, gaunt man, with a long white bead, and hair that fell to his waist. He wore the robes of the Monastery, and Reshal recognised him at once. He was Duras, the leader of the Monks. He had established the monastery almost a century ago, and his skills as a seer, and healer were renowned far and wide.

In six years at the monastery, Reshal had seen little of this man. It was said that he was constantly ill, and had locked himself away deep within the monastery's immense libraries seventeen years ago, rarely emerging to attend to any of his duties.

"Duras, what's going on? What is this place?" stammered Reshal.

The old monk did not turn around as he spoke: "They're dying Reshal." He whispered in a thin, cracked voice.

"Who, who's dying?" pleaded Reshal.

"The Gods my child. The Gods. They are being destroyed, one by one. And the only one who can save them is the murderer himself.

"Who is this man?" yelled Reshal over the gale that now swept through the field.

Duras remained motionless.

"TELL ME! Please!" Reshal reached forward and grabbed Duras' shoulder.

"See for yourself" spoke the old man, pointing a withered hand towards the opposite end of the field. Peering into the darkness, Reshal could see the outline of a tall man in jet black armour, a huge sword on his back. His enormous helm, adorned with antlers either side, hid his face from view.

Reshal could feel a sickening constriction in the pit of his stomach, as he watched the armour-clad man approach. Something about his very presence, mad him feel dizzy and afraid.

Slowly, the man raised his hands to his head and began to lift the monstrous thing from his head.



"Reshal? Wake up Reshal! WAKE UP!"

"Ahhh!!!!" Reshal hit the floor with a thud, nearly choking on the sheets wrapped around his neck. In a daze, he rubbed his eyes and looked up to see Kern, and his other friend Jhanros standing over him.

Struggling to his feet, Reshal scratched his head sleepily. Jhanros was wearing his armour, and had his huge, battleaxe slung over one shoulder. Kern too, was in fighting gear, and busy fixing his quiver to his back. Both wore heavy looking backpack and worried expressions on their faces.

"W-What's going on?" murmured Reshal. "What's with all the gear, we going on a midnight fieldtrip? "

"Shut up and get your stuff" growled Jhanros.

"Hey, hey ,hey, calm down friend," said Reshal, as he put on his chainmail, and strapped his sword to his back.

"Ok, I'm ready" he said, as he stuffed the last of his emergency rations into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

"Now would one of you, mind telling me what's going on? And why can I smell smoke?"

"I can't explain now Reshal, we've got to get out of here. They're burning the village, the monastery walls won't hold them at bay for much longer. If we're quick we can-"

Reshal cut him off: "What? Who's burning the village? And what about the monks? We can't just leave them here?"

"Would you shut up and listen!" Roared Jhanros. I don't have time to answer all your questions now. The monks have sealed the gates, the only way to escape is by river, but there's only one boat left. We have to go NOW!!!"

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