Post by marshwriter on Jun 21, 2010 8:13:01 GMT -5
Hi all,
I've written this flash piece, but now I'm wondering if it's too much too quick?
Any help will be welcomed!
Inheritance
Take the book and run when you hear the alarm bell. Whatever you do, don’t look back. The bell means the Werlea Wizards have found us. The Betrayers must never have the chance to destroy our books.
The words of Eleazar’s middle-aged teacher ran through his mind when the alarm bell sounded. The clanging still sounded in his ears as he sped over the uneven, rocky ground in his sandals. Low thorny bushes scraped his bare calves as he passed at full speed. But the burning in his legs only made him push himself harder. He glanced back over his shoulder at the town he left behind, lost his footing and fell to the ground. The book he carried in the crook of his arm bit into his ribs, nearly knocking his breath out. He turned on his back, groaning from the pain firing through his body and taking deep, rasping breaths.
Besides the drumming of blood in his ears he could hear nothing else. The teacher’s words ran through his mind once more. He willed himself to his feet and looked around him, his breath still wheezing. He did not see anyone that had followed him – the diversion must have worked. He did not want to think of the human cost of that diversion.
Take the book and run.
Eleazar willed his legs to run, heading east to the coastal town of Sëargahl.
By the time he reached the outskirts of the fishing town he was wheezing and stumbling, the book barely clutched in his hands.
An aged woman sat in front of a white-washed stone house and he stumbled towards her.
“I am Eleazar of the Ealda People and I have come to seek passage from the Sundered Lands.” He reached into his pocket at took out what coins he had with him, holding the silver out to the woman. His palm was clotted with dirt and dried blood. “Please,” he said when she shied away. “I need to get to the Southern Lands. I need to keep the book safe.”
He didn’t have the strength to stop her taking the book from him. She untied the leather cords keeping it shut and opened it. As she started reading it, her eyes grew in size and she looked at him in fear.
“It’s the Holy Book,” she said with disbelief and he nodded. He licked his cracked lips. He felt lightheaded. Darkness clouded his vision for a moment and then cleared.
“I am Eleazar of the Ealda People. The Werlea – the Betrayers – have found us.”
The old woman led Eleazar inside her house and he thankfully sank down and accepted some water. She dusted the corner of the only table in the house and reverently placed the book on it. She stared at the book for a long time before speaking.
“My son only has a small fishing boat, but it will have to do. He will take you to the Southern Lands,” she said.
“I mean no disrespect, but can I trust him completely?”
She nodded. “We did not follow the Werlea, even when we thought all the Ealda had died. Even when our own books were burned.” She wiped across her eyes.
In the morning Eleazar set out with the fisher woman and her son. She had packed their scant belongings during the night after whispers of an escaped prisoner started doing the rounds in the village – those that remembered that they were once from the Ealda blood were few and far between. They set out before dawn, the Holy Book covered in a leather bag and wrapped in oiled cloth. Eleazar held it clasped to his chest, rehearsing what he would say to the Sea Folk of the Southern Lands. The words felt strange to sound, the language of the Sea Folk and the Ealda was sundered when the lands themselves was torn apart, leaving the Ealda behind with the Werlea.
A motley group of people were on the docks when they reached the Southern Lands. None, however, were of the Sundered Lands as far as he could tell. He scanned the crowd, hoping to see a Keeper. He had been told they wear cloaks of midnight hue with a silver seven-pointed star on their breast.
Then, on a corner of the dock, some way away from the sailors, he saw a tall figure in a blue cloak. The person turned and he saw a silver star. They docked and he made his way to the man. He just needed to get to the Keeper.
When he came close to the man, he bowed. “I am Eleazar of the Ealda People,” he said softly. “We are enemies of the Werlea, but our people have been scattered. I was sent to the Southern Lands to keep the Holy Book safe. I bring it now to you as the inheritance of my people to keep safe from the Betrayers and Wizards.”
“And I am Hlewagastir.” The Keeper placed a sunburned hand on his shoulder and nodded; a knowing look in his eyes. He touched the book reverently and thanked the young man while a tear streaked his skin. “Then this is what is left of the Inheritance.”
He led them to the safety of the Keeper’s Southern House in silence.
Thanks,
Marsh
I've written this flash piece, but now I'm wondering if it's too much too quick?
Any help will be welcomed!
Inheritance
Take the book and run when you hear the alarm bell. Whatever you do, don’t look back. The bell means the Werlea Wizards have found us. The Betrayers must never have the chance to destroy our books.
The words of Eleazar’s middle-aged teacher ran through his mind when the alarm bell sounded. The clanging still sounded in his ears as he sped over the uneven, rocky ground in his sandals. Low thorny bushes scraped his bare calves as he passed at full speed. But the burning in his legs only made him push himself harder. He glanced back over his shoulder at the town he left behind, lost his footing and fell to the ground. The book he carried in the crook of his arm bit into his ribs, nearly knocking his breath out. He turned on his back, groaning from the pain firing through his body and taking deep, rasping breaths.
Besides the drumming of blood in his ears he could hear nothing else. The teacher’s words ran through his mind once more. He willed himself to his feet and looked around him, his breath still wheezing. He did not see anyone that had followed him – the diversion must have worked. He did not want to think of the human cost of that diversion.
Take the book and run.
Eleazar willed his legs to run, heading east to the coastal town of Sëargahl.
By the time he reached the outskirts of the fishing town he was wheezing and stumbling, the book barely clutched in his hands.
An aged woman sat in front of a white-washed stone house and he stumbled towards her.
“I am Eleazar of the Ealda People and I have come to seek passage from the Sundered Lands.” He reached into his pocket at took out what coins he had with him, holding the silver out to the woman. His palm was clotted with dirt and dried blood. “Please,” he said when she shied away. “I need to get to the Southern Lands. I need to keep the book safe.”
He didn’t have the strength to stop her taking the book from him. She untied the leather cords keeping it shut and opened it. As she started reading it, her eyes grew in size and she looked at him in fear.
“It’s the Holy Book,” she said with disbelief and he nodded. He licked his cracked lips. He felt lightheaded. Darkness clouded his vision for a moment and then cleared.
“I am Eleazar of the Ealda People. The Werlea – the Betrayers – have found us.”
The old woman led Eleazar inside her house and he thankfully sank down and accepted some water. She dusted the corner of the only table in the house and reverently placed the book on it. She stared at the book for a long time before speaking.
“My son only has a small fishing boat, but it will have to do. He will take you to the Southern Lands,” she said.
“I mean no disrespect, but can I trust him completely?”
She nodded. “We did not follow the Werlea, even when we thought all the Ealda had died. Even when our own books were burned.” She wiped across her eyes.
In the morning Eleazar set out with the fisher woman and her son. She had packed their scant belongings during the night after whispers of an escaped prisoner started doing the rounds in the village – those that remembered that they were once from the Ealda blood were few and far between. They set out before dawn, the Holy Book covered in a leather bag and wrapped in oiled cloth. Eleazar held it clasped to his chest, rehearsing what he would say to the Sea Folk of the Southern Lands. The words felt strange to sound, the language of the Sea Folk and the Ealda was sundered when the lands themselves was torn apart, leaving the Ealda behind with the Werlea.
A motley group of people were on the docks when they reached the Southern Lands. None, however, were of the Sundered Lands as far as he could tell. He scanned the crowd, hoping to see a Keeper. He had been told they wear cloaks of midnight hue with a silver seven-pointed star on their breast.
Then, on a corner of the dock, some way away from the sailors, he saw a tall figure in a blue cloak. The person turned and he saw a silver star. They docked and he made his way to the man. He just needed to get to the Keeper.
When he came close to the man, he bowed. “I am Eleazar of the Ealda People,” he said softly. “We are enemies of the Werlea, but our people have been scattered. I was sent to the Southern Lands to keep the Holy Book safe. I bring it now to you as the inheritance of my people to keep safe from the Betrayers and Wizards.”
“And I am Hlewagastir.” The Keeper placed a sunburned hand on his shoulder and nodded; a knowing look in his eyes. He touched the book reverently and thanked the young man while a tear streaked his skin. “Then this is what is left of the Inheritance.”
He led them to the safety of the Keeper’s Southern House in silence.
Thanks,
Marsh
