Well, I'm starting writing this whilst currently in a pointless lecture. Oh, the value of modern education eh? So rather than learning stuff I already know about English Literature, I thought I'd do something constructive and carry on with my current story project. Here we go!
Tyree shielded his eyes from the harsh glare of the last rays of sunlight for the day. He sighed as he hefted his hoe from the fallen beast's carcass. He cricked his neck and stretched out his tired muscles once more. He ran a hand through his short, dusty brown hair, bleached from being out in the sun for so many weeks at a time. He looked back to his field and frowned. He'd done nowhere near enough work to earn his coin today and so the landowner would probably be overjoyed. A free day's labour. Tyree usually did far more than any average worker, and yet still only received a standard wage for a field worker. He looked to Kelni and yawned, smiling, "So, I don't want to sound rude, but what brings an elf to Vaymouth? I mean, I've seen elves before, but with such a limited grasp on the common tongue, you don't strike me as much of a traveller..." Kelni blinked; a look of confusion spread over her face, "Speak slower, Farmh- ummm, Tyree... Kelni not travellinger, no. Kelni brought as slaveling. Kelni expected to work for nasty man. Kelni escape!" As she spoke, she became more and more agitated at her situation. Tyree couldn't help but chuckle as she moved through the motions of acting out her capture and journey, and her daring escape from her captors.
The two newly met companions strode back within the walls of the town. Tyree frowned, as the majority of the taverns had already filled so there was little in the way of a chance to eat before returning home. He wasn't hoping to take Kelni back to where he lived. He knew that food was scarcer still within his home, and he did not want to stress his poor mother, declining in health as she was. He looked back to Kelni; her eyes were darting around the streets at the townspeople. It was clear that she was nervous. If she'd escaped from slavers, as she claimed, then it was understandable that she should worry about being back within the walls of the town.
Tyree took a slight detour, leading Kelni down a little side street and down to the banks of the river Vay. He thought that the quiet of the riverbank walk would be better for the elf's nerves. Their were still fishermen on the banks. The Vay was famous for its large schools of Calderfish, a delicacy within Galastia, and so the banks would usually have many a fisherman plying his trade and casting his nets - but even with this small crowd, they were too busy with their work to pay any attention to the two wanderers or even notice the fact that one was an elf.
It was clear that Kelni was more at ease. She began to whistle while they walked, a haunting, yet melodious tune. Tyree, soothed by the music, glanced back to her and smiled. He noticed how her hair shone in the sun, almost set by now, but still granting the last of its golden orange glow to the town. The minutes passed quickly as Tyree followed the path home. He paused at the end of the lane. Something felt wrong. There were no animals howling, not even his own pet. Bracken, a tamed and trained timber wolf, had been Tyree's closest friend since being a pup. They had grown up together after Tyree's father, a local woodsman, had taken the boy out with him one day. Tyree discovered the pup beneath a mound of fallen fern branches, crushed by the weight and barely breathing. The child, Tyree, scooped the wolf pup within his arms and hurried back to his father and then the two of them - father and son - took the pup to the local apothecary where it was nursed back to health. Since then, the two had been inseparable, and Bracken always knew when Tyree was close to home, always giving a howl of excitement upon sensing, or smelling, or however the wolf knew his master was near.
Today, there was no howl. Tyree gave a swift backwards glance to Kelni before breaking into a run for his house. He cast the door aside and his eyes shifted hurriedly over the scene before him; furniture was overturned, cabinets and chests cracked open - their contents strewn across the floor and there, in the middle of the room, there lay his mother. Bracken was lay curled next to her, whimpering and licking behind her ear. Their was a small pool of blood surrounding her head like a grim halo. She was still breathing, but only barely. He dropped to his knees by his mother's side and held her, Bracken looking at his master with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. Tyree fought back the tears. "Mami? Mami!" Her eyes fluttered open for the briefest of moments to see her son and she coughed, a slight spatter of blood trickled over her lips and marred her chin with crimson stains. "Tyree... My little Ty-ty..." She coughed once more. Tyree held her close and Kelni stood agape at the door, hands clasped over her mouth in shock. "Mother, what happened?!" She managed to open her eyes once more and pressed her bloody lips to his cheek in a gentle kiss, "Osterman... It, was... Osterm-" and with that, her eyes closed for the final time. She fell limp within her son's arms and he cradled his head to her chest, crying out with rage, sorrow, with anguish and hatred!
He placed his mother upon the floor and turned to Kelni. "You, Kelni. You said you used magic to heal me in the field. I beg you, please. Aid my mother now!" The elf looked blankly between Tyree and his fallen mother, pausing in thought before shaking her head, "Kelni cannot. This magic works only on living. Kelni not strong enough to bring life to death." Tyree nodded. He expected as much, but he was desperate. Bracken nuzzled against Tyree's leg as Kelni took a step further into the house, "Your mother mentioned name. Who be?" Tyree crouched and patted Bracken's head before he moved and opened a trapdoor within the floor. He pulled a large, ironbound, ornate chest from it and released the clasp. "Osterman, Miguel Osterman... He's the captain of the local guard..." He reached into the chest and pulled from it a cuirass of strongest steel, inlaid with the finest mithril filligree. Alongside this, he laid another item, wrapped within a long piece of fine red fabric. He unravelled the fabric and held the sheathed sword so the golden hilt reflected in the lantern light and then fastened the scabbard to his belt. He donned the cuirass and held up the red fabric, tying it about his neck like a scarf. After taking up and donning this revered heirlooms of his namesake, he looked once more to Kelni, "Osterman is also notorious for being the head of the local cartel... The whole town knows this, but the Thronelord does nothing about it because Osterman keeps him happy with a cut of his takings. This is gone on for too long now! And I intend to change it..."
That's it for today. I made a longer post because, I did start writing this yesterday, but due to a few complications, I got sidetracked, so I've effectively done two day's worth of writing in a single post. I hope you enjoy it! If there's one thing I relish as a writer, it's the birth of a new hero. I hope you like it too... Please feel free to leave feedback!
Craiggy.
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