Author Topic: Story beginning - Fantasy - 1542 words Continued  (Read 2440 times)

Offline Andrewf

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Story beginning - Fantasy - 1542 words Continued
« on: April 15, 2008, 11:59:57 AM »
Part 1 http://www.mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=13331.0

Part 2 http://www.mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=13361.0

Part 3 http://www.mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=13396.0

Ok... the first 3 parts are linked above with this part 4 continuing on below... part 5 (and probably 6) will be along soon (hopefully).  ;D

Please let me know what you think to this.



I collected the pieces of rope and used them to bind the hands and feet of the five kidnappers. I moved them far enough apart to ensure that they couldn’t help each other when they finally awoke and then headed for the exit.
Dawn stood straighter and brushed down her dress, visibly becoming a young lady. She looked down her nose at the tied kidnappers before sniffing disdainfully and then followed after me.

“You were amazing!” she enthused, letting her mask of decorum slip. “The way you fought those men... So fast!”
She was right. Defeating those thugs had been quick and easy. Too easy. “They were amateurs,” I said aloud, knowing that it was true but not entirely sure how I knew.

“Oh!” she gasped, “Your arm! You’re bleeding!”
When she mentioned it, I felt the wound in my arm burn. My loose shirt sleeve only showed the hole made by the blade, though I could see blood dripping from my fingertips. I carefully lifted the sleeve to reveal where the rapier had pierced the muscle. Runnels of blood oozed from the wound but it looked reasonably clean.
The sound of ripping cloth intruded into my inspection and I looked up to see Dawn pulling a strip of white material from the hem of her petticoat. She stepped close and swiftly bound the wound tight.
“That will just have to do for now,” she said while cleaning the blood off my arm with the remaining material, “but it needs cleaning properly.”

We reached the warehouse door to find it wide open. The guard I had left slumped in his chair was also gone. I could only guess that he had run to save his own neck. No honour among thieves and cut-throats.
I looked outside. Bright silvery light from the two moons painted the cobbles of the empty street but left the sides of the buildings opposite cloaked in shadows. Although I couldn’t see her, I knew that Kitten wouldn’t have left me alone and whistled a single sharp note as I stood in the moonlight. I saw her melt from the shadows near the building opposite and then dart across the street towards me.

“I have amateur kidnappers to question,” I explained and gestured inside, “but would prefer that delicate eyes didn’t watch.”
“Leave them to me,” Kitten grinned in anticipation and pulled a slender short blade from the non-existent cleavage of her bodice.
I was a little disturbed by her apparent blood-lust and plucked the blade from her grasp. “I meant that I would question them if you would mind our guest.”
“No!” Kitten and Dawn protested in unison.
“Take your ‘guest’ to the Golden Goblet Inn on Guildhall Street,” Kitten suggested, plucking the blade back out of my hand. “Tell them Aran sent you and I’ll meet you there when I’m finished here.”
Reluctantly, I nodded and advised her, “They are tied up at the back... I think the Rastha may be the leader of these five.” I halted her before she could leave and asked, “Where is Guildhall Street...?”

“Go to the end of Jame Street and turn left into Ropewalk road,” she explained. “Then right into Wharf Road and follow it to the market square. Across the square to Westgate Road and then right into Guildhall Street. The Golden Goblet is about halfway down.”
“Understood,” I nodded and turned to Dawn. “If you would follow me.”
Dawn stopped staring at Kitten, flashed me a brief smile and nodded once, giving me permission to lead, before following me out of the warehouse and along the apparently deserted moonlit street.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched. That the group who had taken Dawn were not so incompetent that they had no-one as backup should they be found out.
I kept my eyes on our surroundings while I followed Kitten’s instructions, swiftly walking up Jame Street and left onto Ropewalk, with Dawn valiantly keeping pace beside me to my left. The streets appeared lifeless except for us two, but even so, I kept a weary eye out for anyone who might think we made easy targets.
Dawn began to breathe harder from our hurried pace. When we turned right onto Wharf Road she panted, “Please... Slow down!”
I slowed but continued my vigilance, watching every shadow and alleyway that we passed.

After a few minutes of silence Dawn asked, “What’s your name?”
“Why do you ask?” I asked in turn, unwilling to reveal that I couldn’t remember my own name. Almost like the lack of a name was something shameful.
“You saved me,” she replied with awe, “and I don’t even know your name. How can I thank you or mention you in my prayers.”
“My name is not important. But if you wish to, you may choose a name to call me.”

We approached the end of Wharf Road where it met the market square and a low murmur grew steadily louder from ahead of us. We walked into the open paved square and the source of the sound became apparent.
Dominating the northern end of the square to our right, a large cathedral-like building of tall spires and flying buttresses looked ethereal in the moonlit night air. Above the main entrance doors, a large circular window glinted in the light of the two moons and appeared to glow silver, reflecting the moonlight and bathing the ground before it. Drifting from the main doors, crowds of people greeted each other and talked, their voices merging into the murmur I’d heard.

I led the way across the square; past the big temple building dedicated to the goddess Aylin and her consort Jarah. Weaved our way through the ambling attendees of the moonrise service and across to Westgate Road.
“How about John,” Dawn abruptly proposed before quickly changing her mind, “No... You don’t look like a John to me.”

We walked up Westgate, passed the closed shops and other places of business while Dawn continued trying to name me, saying the names like she was trying them on me for fit.
“Adam? ... No... maybe Bob? ... Charlie? ... hmm David? ...”

The quality of the buildings and the street itself were much improved over those we had traversed on the other side of the market square. I glanced at the couples that were strolling along in the bright moonlight with us. They all wore finer clothing and were passing pleasantries with others that they chanced to meet.
“Are you going to try all the names you know?” I asked Dawn with a smile.
“Yep,” she nodded and grinned, “I’ll know it when I hear it... Fred? ... George? ... erm, Jim? ... Karl? ...”

The corner where Guildhall Street met Westgate was littered with small tables where late-night diners were enjoying small pastries and even smaller drinks. Waitresses carrying platters danced between the close-set tables and served the patrons before retreating back into their respective café’s.
“How about Nick? ... or Pete? ... umm Rick? ... Ted? ...”

We left the small dining establishments and their guests behind us and passed a number of better quality shop frontages before reaching our destination. The two storey stone building arched over a gated carriageway that led back from the street and behind the building. The wooden sign of the goblet hanging above the entrance looked like it had been gilded and shined bright in the moonlight.
“Max!” Dawn cheered beside me, “That’s it... Max is your name!”

Max? It didn’t spark any memories, but then it didn’t sound any worse than the multitude of other names she had been trying out. It was certainly short and simple. It would do.
“Why not,” I nodded to her.

I pushed open the polished old oak door of the Inn and stepped inside with Dawn following. A swift scan around the room revealed that it was spacious but it immediately felt cosy and inviting despite the silence that fell at our appearance.
A rotund man with a bushy moustache stood behind the long counter that projected from the wall to my left. He looked up at our entrance and nodded once in greeting while wiping out the cup he was holding. A staircase filled the far-left corner and small groups of three or four people occupied the tables arrayed before the empty fireplace to the right.
The door at the foot of the stairs swung open with a thud and a serving wench sashayed in carrying a tray laden with a steaming bowl of food.

With the awkward silence broken, the groups of people returned to their business and I guided Dawn to the counter and the moustachioed man. “Aran sent me.”
The innkeeper eyed me up and down a moment before he shouted over my shoulder. “Rosie, put Jack down. Ya don’ know where he’s bin.”
I turned to see the red-haired serving wench stroke the cheek of one of the old men as she climbed off of his lap and approached us.
“I want ya ta show this gent up ta the red room.”
“Follow me,” she winked and then swayed to the stairs where she picked up a glass-hooded oil lamp and lit it with a taper.




Thanks for reading
Andrew 8)
"If it can't be expressed in figures, it is not science; it is opinion." - L. Long.

Tales from the Circle - A charitable read. http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?contributorId=1146002
Ask about eBook versions if required.

Offline ma100

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Re: Story beginning - Fantasy - 1542 words Continued
« Reply #1 on: April 17, 2008, 04:49:35 AM »
A good segment of your story Andrew.
I liked this.
Mairi :)

Offline Andrewf

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Re: Story beginning - Fantasy - 1542 words Continued
« Reply #2 on: April 17, 2008, 07:24:27 AM »
Thanks for the comment Mairi, glad you liked it.  :)

Part 5 is now up and 6 is coming along...



 8)
Andrew
"If it can't be expressed in figures, it is not science; it is opinion." - L. Long.

Tales from the Circle - A charitable read. http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?contributorId=1146002
Ask about eBook versions if required.