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Genre: Fantasy
About WenontLocation: Massachusetts Home Region: Age:49 Favorite writers: Edgar Allen Poe, Kafka, J.R.R.Tolkien Favorite music: PINK, Bon Jovi, Nickelback , GooGoo Dolls, Aerosmith, Cheap Trick, Lifehouse Non-noveling interests: Martial arts instructor, traditional longbow archer |
Joined: Oktober 29, 2005 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 33 NaNoWriMo buddies: 16
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Brief Author Bio: Snarky, tenacious, bites, occasionally good-natured when offered coffee or chocolate |
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Synopsis: Sildian
In the world of Sul Enneth, the two remaining free races struggle to survive the Darkening. Once a peaceful race, the Dwinan, mortal-like peoples, teeter on the edge of extinction, many killed in outright warfare, the rest captured by the Dark Mistress for her evil works. For millennia, they have lived alongside their Everliving brethren the Drrhee. To these two races in the midst of war and survival, their long-promised savior seems more of a fable than a promise. Little hope now resides within the hearts of the forlorn, until a glimmer of hope spreads among the battle weary. Since the Battle of the Misted Plains, it is said that the Inlíhtan, born from a long-forgotten race, and believed to have perished, may yet exist. The Divination, passed down by the Drrhee Elders of the First Cycle, and long since abandoned in hopelessness by the two peoples, appears to have some truth to it after all.
Sildian, a female warrior, orphaned in a violent raid of her Dwinan village, and taken in by a renowned clan of the mighty Drrhee, has been raised to take up bow and blade alongside those who wage a seemingly futile battle on the side of Light. For her, the Divination holds no credence. It is nothing more than legend, something to tell those losing hope or near death.
Hate, vengeance, rage...This volatile potion drives her, further fueled by torturous and unsettling dreams of horrific proportions. It is not some utterance of new life and hope that guides her hand. No. The Dark One and her filthy minions had taken the only family she had ever known, sending her fleeing with the remnants of her village into the wilds of Elgarthian Forest where many perished to the elements.
She does not take herself to be one of the blind fools believing in a childish fairy tale of rescue. A yarn handed down tens of thousands of ahrta in the past, by Elders of a race that are now seemingly abandoning the Dwinan in their time of dire of need. For the past several moons, the light of the twin suns dims further with the dawn of each new day. As the paling scintillant kisses the horizon each evening, the Drrhee are seen fleeing for their precious Andonian, Land of the Everliving. Contempt fills her heart at the sight, and she does not know which is the greater enemy; the Darkening, or the apparent cowardice of a once nearly invincible race.
But soon, like it or not, she will become one of the believers. She will find that this ‘fable’ has more to do with her nightmares and very existence than she could possibly fathom. Once all is revealed, all she has ever known, all that she is and ever has been, will crumble in an instant.
Excerpt: Sildian
She awoke to warmth; a soft glow surrounded her as her eyes slowly cracked open. Was one supposed to feel such when one died? She moved her fingers. Her hands were resting on the softest material she had ever felt and, when she tried to look at the fabric, a sudden stab of pain coursed through her. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed as a low gasp poured from her lips. A tall figure was immediately by her side, cradling her head and trying to soothe her discomfort. When she opened her eyes, she was met by a pair of liquid silver orbs, and an angelic face that was framed by long tresses of the softest looking golden hair she had ever laid eyes upon. It was him.
She reached a hand to his face but misjudged the distance. Her hand caressed air and fell back to the blankets. She had to be dead. In life, she was never this fortunate to be in the presence of such a being. Just her luck that she was gravely injured, and could only lay helplessly as a stone while he hovered above. She started to fade back into slumber again, when the melodious voice entered her mind once more.
“Do not fall into slumber, lady, for you may enter the void, never to awaken. Listen to my voice if you must close your eyes.”
He seemed to know that she understood his language because it was not of her native tongue. He was Rhee. One of the Everliving. She had heard that they had joined the war effort years ago but, until now, she had never seen any on a battlefield. They were relatively unknown entities to her race, though she fared better than most of her peers in knowledge of them. Her family had been close to a clan of Rhee all of her life. She had learned a great deal about war craft and weaponry, growing up, and she had cherished this fact well into adulthood.
She had not seen these people for many years since making her way into the adult world, but they remained dear to her, nonetheless. She vowed that if she survived the war, she would return to her birthplace, to her family and their dear and cherished friends, never to leave again.
That was a vow made 50 years prior, and still there was no end in sight of the war ending. She opened her eyes and turned her head a bit to the side to watch him. He was busy tending to a small pot over an open cook fire, dropping herbal medicinals into the steaming water. He sensed her eyes upon him and turned to look over his shoulder, smiling.
She squinted. There was something vaguely familiar about him. Her pain-fogged mind finally registered this fact and she gasped in shock. “I know you...” she whispered, barely able to get her tongue to work, and her mouth to form the words.
He ceased his task and furrowed his brow, now turned to face her as he crouched over the fire. He rose slowly then came to sit by her side, placing his hand over her forehead. He closed his eyes and she watched in amazement as a tear slipped down his fair cheek.
A serene smile graced his unblemished features as he voiced, “Sildian...My dear friend.” He slowly opened his eyes and gazed upon her paling features, caressing the backs of his fingers down side of her cheek.
“Darval...It is you...” she gasped as a wave of pain wracked her body, choking the breath from her lungs.
“Do not speak, Sildian. There is no need. Save your strength.”
He stroked her forehead then placed a cool cloth over it, trying to ease the fever now beginning to manifest itself within her. He needed to get her to a healer, she knew that. He had managed to stem the inevitable, that was all. She needed to be tended to, and quickly.
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