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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1005209-First-Gate--Prologue
Rated: E · Fiction · Fantasy · #1005209
Beginning fantasy novel. Demons, hero's, magick and mystery.
Harsh red sand blew East from the Nour’dal badlands, across the Buio’lie Plain, sweeping in thunderous waves over the village of Kianol. The howling cries of the wind, declared its fury at being thwarted by the high stonewalls, and stretched leather domes, that shielded Kianol from such impudent outbursts. The village within those sheltering arms, paid the wind and sand no mind, such goings on were a part of the seasonal journey; and if this year, the dry season had lasted much longer than memory can recall, then that was just the way the Gods had decreed things, and who were they lesser mortals to argue with the divine ones.

In the temple of Airot’Hniol, Goddess of Fire, one young acolyte was about to discover a different point of view. Lopiu of the “Fleet Winds” clan, ran his fingers reverently over the precious wood leafs that contained prophecies meant only for the eyes of the eldest kindred. Stealing glances to the corner stair, he carefully tucked the small volume into the underskirt of his pale robes and smoothed the belt into place, taking care to fluff out the overdress so as to hide its slight bulk. Quickly sliding the corner stone back into place and snatching up his case of chalks and slate, he set off at a trot for the acolytes’ quarters, hoping he wouldn’t be stopped before he reached the security of his small room. Lopiu never noticed the small swirl of black mist that shimmered out from the crack he left in the wall. It shifted around the room, seemingly to get its bearings before it flowed from shadow to shadow, following the boy’s path.

“From the bleeding heart, born of earth’s delight, a child of ice is given to the Mother of Winds ”

“With the stars first spark, darkness spreads, sword and dragon made as one.”

“When unquenchable thirst spreads thru the lands, and seasons artful thoughts have lost their lofty perch, one shall pry a secret forth and set off in search of a newly fated god”

“A Queens falling and a Kings last breath, all the same, to bring death and strife.”

“In the year of seedlings failure, a wicked hero, brought from the farthest tower, to the place where thrones are bare. There to find the flames true worth.”

“A demons kiss, finds life and love, if only the truth be offered in hate.”


Lopiu sat, curled in the far corner of his pallet, tracing his finger over the book leaves, those words playing again and again through his mind, giving him no peace. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he let the litany flow over him; the sounds of Kianol seemed to drop away, leaving him floating on a bed of air. Back and forth he swayed, high above everything he flew, tighter and tighter the spirals coiled and at the top, light broke and dawned, a flickering flame drawing him ever nearer. Caught in its hypnotic dance, he drew closer, seemingly no longer connected to his physical body.

From under the door, the black mist flowed and moved slowly foreword, making its way to where Lopiu lay slumped and unaware. The breeze flowing through Lopiu’s window seemed to laugh viciously as the mist continued to creep foreword. Spreading itself thin, the darkness angled itself to sweep across the room, gradually filling it with nighttime shadows and ever quickening winds.

Lopiu was pulled ever closer to the dancing flames, their bright red, orange and white tongues, stretching towards him in seeming invitation. Any attempts to free him-self or even wake were futile and his continued struggles only caused the current that he was caught in to speed up, drawing him ever onwards. As the first of the flames began to lick along his body he opened his mouth to scream in terror and pain, shaking with the horror of being consumed by their greedy hunger. As his decent into the heart of the flames continued he became aware that there was no pain, only a cool silky sensation. As if the finest satin was being drawn lightly across his skin.
Finally opening his eyes, he was shocked to find that he was whole and well, the fire had not harmed him at all. He was now completely surrounded by the iridescent blue core, which had lain at the center of the flames. Its brilliant light, spilled out tinting everything with its glorious hue. He was struck silent by awe and fear, not sure how he had come to be here or even why.
© Copyright 2005 NicoleRibis (feycatseyes at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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