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Feb. 5th, 2010 08:42 am
Prologue to story
Ok, so I've once more begun work on a novel I'll probably never
finish I will absolutely finish.
Here's the prologue; let me know what you think. It's adapted from an earlier drabble I wrote on a whim; people liked it then but I've modified it and adjusted it to fit the larger story:
He should not have died that way.
He is gone, now. Gone and buried and beyond caring for the manner of his death. But I am still here. And I, who knew him better than any man or woman now living . . . I am sorry for it.
He should have died in battle, sword in hand, magic in the air, his laughter mocking his enemies as they fell before his blade and his castings. He should have died as he lived: wholly and without holding any part of himself back from those he loved.
He should not have died as he did. Wasting away until he was naught but a shadow of his former self, telling me the stories of his life in between the coughing that wracked his tired, old body. Sleeping more than he could speak. The only good thing in the manner of his death is that he faced it without fear; more, he welcomed it. And why wouldn't he? His beloved and his dearest friends were waiting for him in the Shadow Lands. Waiting to begin their journeys again.
Most of those who will read this know only the legends of the Seven, and the rise of the Wardens is but a dull lesson in our history classes. Few are left who remember the darkness of those days, or the blood and death that came with them. I write this work so that those who come after, when we are all gone to dust, will know the sorrows, the pain, and the joys of those days.
Here you will learn the truth behind the stories; meet the men and women behind the songs.
Dean of Chroniclers Teranesa dan Arzhen
Warden Academy, Andari
Tenkar 11|24
finish
Here's the prologue; let me know what you think. It's adapted from an earlier drabble I wrote on a whim; people liked it then but I've modified it and adjusted it to fit the larger story:
He should not have died that way.
He is gone, now. Gone and buried and beyond caring for the manner of his death. But I am still here. And I, who knew him better than any man or woman now living . . . I am sorry for it.
He should have died in battle, sword in hand, magic in the air, his laughter mocking his enemies as they fell before his blade and his castings. He should have died as he lived: wholly and without holding any part of himself back from those he loved.
He should not have died as he did. Wasting away until he was naught but a shadow of his former self, telling me the stories of his life in between the coughing that wracked his tired, old body. Sleeping more than he could speak. The only good thing in the manner of his death is that he faced it without fear; more, he welcomed it. And why wouldn't he? His beloved and his dearest friends were waiting for him in the Shadow Lands. Waiting to begin their journeys again.
Most of those who will read this know only the legends of the Seven, and the rise of the Wardens is but a dull lesson in our history classes. Few are left who remember the darkness of those days, or the blood and death that came with them. I write this work so that those who come after, when we are all gone to dust, will know the sorrows, the pain, and the joys of those days.
Here you will learn the truth behind the stories; meet the men and women behind the songs.
Dean of Chroniclers Teranesa dan Arzhen
Warden Academy, Andari
Tenkar 11|24