A Warrior Born
folder
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
1,565
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
1,565
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Separation
CHAPTER 4
SEPARATION
He stood on a high cliff, overlooking a blood-soaked plain. Bodies littered the torn ground, and a terrible standard waved above them. The sky was filled with boiling red clouds that fired lighting at each other like a duel of the gods. Beside him stood an old man, twisted and bent, wearing a headdress made of human spines. His face was as dry and thin as that of a thousand-year mummy. The man regarded him with contempt and amusement.
He tensed as he turned to face him. One hand went to his sword. The thing in the headdress laughed. The sound was a terrible rattling, like the clattering of many bones.
“Do not presume to threaten me,” it hissed. “I am the master of this realm. I control all. Tell me, do you like it?” He waved one gnarled hand across the plain.
The other man gazed at him, his eyes filled with a terrible ferocity.
“It reminds me of the day the capital fell,” he said. “I recall that the bodies of pathetic things that had once called themselves men lay in such a way.”
The sorcerer cackled.
“Indeed they did! The losses were terrible, but nothing compared to what we gained!” He held up his staff, made of skulls and ribs, to the sky as his voice rose.
“The last paragon of light fallen! Those pathetic zealots, the holy knights,” and here he spat on the ground, “vanquished forever! Truly it was a day that will live on in memory forever!”
Suddenly all mirth vanished from the face of the ancient warlock.
“There is only one thing to mar the joy of that day.” He raised his hand and an image appeared in the air, insubstantial and fleeting as a wisp of smoke. It showed a bloody cross, shattered into many pieces, and a trail of hacked and ruined bodies leading out of the doors of a burning temple.
“Our greatest adversary escaped our grasp,” he said. “Nothing will be finished until we have found him.”
The other man drew his sword and stood ready.
“The day you find him is the day you die, demon.”
The man-thing grinned horribly.
“I died long ago, Alcander!” he hissed. “To the man possessed of true power, death is but a portal to immortality!”
“You will find that you are not as eternal as you think!” snarled Karanikus. “BEGONE!”
The full force of his iron will and the shaman’s blood in his veins rested on this word. The liche snarled and faded away, taking his nightmare landscape with him. The world dissolved and the man who had once been Nykolas Alistair Alcander found himself in his bed at the inn, with Reesa’s arm draped across him. She shifted slightly in her sleep and he felt her firm breasts rub against his chest. Gently, he extricated himself from her grasp and sat at the side of the bed, head rested on his chin, deep in thought.
It seemed that the dark one had not ceased his hunt. Karanikus knew that his adversary did not yet know his location for certain, but it seemed he was drawing closer. If the necromancer had pinpointed him, he knew his sword would be singing through a legion of the undead at this moment. Yet this latest vision had been far to close for comfort. Rarely indeed were they able to communicate face-to-face upon that other plane.
Twice before in the long years since the capital’s fall, the Hrab had found him, had known him for who he was. Both times, apocalypse had followed. Those battles had utterly destroyed everything around them. The unquenchable fury of Karanikus had met the dark and horrible magicks of the sorcerers with terrible result. The first battle had laid waste to more than a mile of forest. The second had wiped a peaceful village from the earth.
It was time for him to move on. If they found him here, it would mean death for the woman he had loved these past two nights. He could not allow that. If he was to face the Hrab again, it would be on an empty battlefield, far from the innocent.
As he pondered this, he felt the bed shift. Reesa’s arms slid around him from behind.
“Goodmorn, my warrior,” she said. She kissed his shoulder and rested her head against his massive neck. “What are you pondering?”
He turned and took her into his arms. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he kissed her gently. Then he pulled back and looked her in the eye.
“The time has come for me to leave, Reesa,” he said.
Sadness fell over her face. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest.
“Must you go so soon?” she said. “I have so loved these last nights. I had hoped for more.”
He sighed slightly and nodded.
“Yes. I have done what I came to do, and I must journey on.”
She pushed away from him and sat on the end of the bed, looking at the floor. Her eyes were full of tears. Reesa looked up at him again, with hurt in her gaze.
“Is that all that what we have shared means to you? Due payment for your services?”
He moved to her and took her into his arms.
“It was much more than that,” he said. “You are a wonderful woman, one that any man should be proud of. It is not because of any failing that you have that I must move on. There are things in my past that still haunt me. I would not have them haunt you as well.”
She kissed him desperately.
“I would face any demons of the past for you!” she said. “I love you.”
He was silent for several long moments, facing her, and then he set her down and rose from the bed.
“Your love would be better granted to someone else,” he said, beginning to dress. “It would end in terrible tragedy if I stayed and we were together. I must go, and I am sorry.”
She was silent for several minutes as he dressed, tears falling from her eyes. At last she rose and put her hand on his face, drawing his gaze to her.
“I trust you,” she said, “and I thank you for what you have done for me. I pray that someday you may find peace.”
He drew her in for a final, passionate kiss. So sweet was it that his resolve almost wavered. However, it was that very longing for her that told him he had to leave. He would not allow her to be hurt. He stroked her hair and then set her on the floor. Hefting his weapons and his pack, he made his way out of the inn.
Reesa stood for several minutes, lost in reflection of all that had passed in the last week. In the end, she thought, she had gained much more than the safety of her home. The warrior had awakened her once more as the woman she should be. Perhaps it was time to search for a new husband, a man she could love and be loved by, a man who could be a father to her son. Karanikus had made her aware once more of her need for love.
“Thank you, my warrior,” she whispered. Then she dressed and went to the kitchen. It was time for life to move on.
END CHAPTER FOUR
A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed. It makes my day to see such glowing praises of my work. To The Virgin Nympho: my advice to you is to read, that’s all. Read really good fantasy authors and use elements of their style. The writing of this particular tale is largely based on Robert E. Howard’s stories of Conan of Cimmeria. Howard had godlike abilities as far as poetic violence went. Also read some of Robert Jordan’s stuff. As to the erotica, what I do is this: I make sure that my characters are “making love” rather than “fucking.” There’s a HUGE difference. Keep the focus on the emotional connection that sex brings, and on the intimacy and closeness associated with it. Read Jean M. Auel as well, she does excellent love scenes.
SEPARATION
He stood on a high cliff, overlooking a blood-soaked plain. Bodies littered the torn ground, and a terrible standard waved above them. The sky was filled with boiling red clouds that fired lighting at each other like a duel of the gods. Beside him stood an old man, twisted and bent, wearing a headdress made of human spines. His face was as dry and thin as that of a thousand-year mummy. The man regarded him with contempt and amusement.
He tensed as he turned to face him. One hand went to his sword. The thing in the headdress laughed. The sound was a terrible rattling, like the clattering of many bones.
“Do not presume to threaten me,” it hissed. “I am the master of this realm. I control all. Tell me, do you like it?” He waved one gnarled hand across the plain.
The other man gazed at him, his eyes filled with a terrible ferocity.
“It reminds me of the day the capital fell,” he said. “I recall that the bodies of pathetic things that had once called themselves men lay in such a way.”
The sorcerer cackled.
“Indeed they did! The losses were terrible, but nothing compared to what we gained!” He held up his staff, made of skulls and ribs, to the sky as his voice rose.
“The last paragon of light fallen! Those pathetic zealots, the holy knights,” and here he spat on the ground, “vanquished forever! Truly it was a day that will live on in memory forever!”
Suddenly all mirth vanished from the face of the ancient warlock.
“There is only one thing to mar the joy of that day.” He raised his hand and an image appeared in the air, insubstantial and fleeting as a wisp of smoke. It showed a bloody cross, shattered into many pieces, and a trail of hacked and ruined bodies leading out of the doors of a burning temple.
“Our greatest adversary escaped our grasp,” he said. “Nothing will be finished until we have found him.”
The other man drew his sword and stood ready.
“The day you find him is the day you die, demon.”
The man-thing grinned horribly.
“I died long ago, Alcander!” he hissed. “To the man possessed of true power, death is but a portal to immortality!”
“You will find that you are not as eternal as you think!” snarled Karanikus. “BEGONE!”
The full force of his iron will and the shaman’s blood in his veins rested on this word. The liche snarled and faded away, taking his nightmare landscape with him. The world dissolved and the man who had once been Nykolas Alistair Alcander found himself in his bed at the inn, with Reesa’s arm draped across him. She shifted slightly in her sleep and he felt her firm breasts rub against his chest. Gently, he extricated himself from her grasp and sat at the side of the bed, head rested on his chin, deep in thought.
It seemed that the dark one had not ceased his hunt. Karanikus knew that his adversary did not yet know his location for certain, but it seemed he was drawing closer. If the necromancer had pinpointed him, he knew his sword would be singing through a legion of the undead at this moment. Yet this latest vision had been far to close for comfort. Rarely indeed were they able to communicate face-to-face upon that other plane.
Twice before in the long years since the capital’s fall, the Hrab had found him, had known him for who he was. Both times, apocalypse had followed. Those battles had utterly destroyed everything around them. The unquenchable fury of Karanikus had met the dark and horrible magicks of the sorcerers with terrible result. The first battle had laid waste to more than a mile of forest. The second had wiped a peaceful village from the earth.
It was time for him to move on. If they found him here, it would mean death for the woman he had loved these past two nights. He could not allow that. If he was to face the Hrab again, it would be on an empty battlefield, far from the innocent.
As he pondered this, he felt the bed shift. Reesa’s arms slid around him from behind.
“Goodmorn, my warrior,” she said. She kissed his shoulder and rested her head against his massive neck. “What are you pondering?”
He turned and took her into his arms. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he kissed her gently. Then he pulled back and looked her in the eye.
“The time has come for me to leave, Reesa,” he said.
Sadness fell over her face. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest.
“Must you go so soon?” she said. “I have so loved these last nights. I had hoped for more.”
He sighed slightly and nodded.
“Yes. I have done what I came to do, and I must journey on.”
She pushed away from him and sat on the end of the bed, looking at the floor. Her eyes were full of tears. Reesa looked up at him again, with hurt in her gaze.
“Is that all that what we have shared means to you? Due payment for your services?”
He moved to her and took her into his arms.
“It was much more than that,” he said. “You are a wonderful woman, one that any man should be proud of. It is not because of any failing that you have that I must move on. There are things in my past that still haunt me. I would not have them haunt you as well.”
She kissed him desperately.
“I would face any demons of the past for you!” she said. “I love you.”
He was silent for several long moments, facing her, and then he set her down and rose from the bed.
“Your love would be better granted to someone else,” he said, beginning to dress. “It would end in terrible tragedy if I stayed and we were together. I must go, and I am sorry.”
She was silent for several minutes as he dressed, tears falling from her eyes. At last she rose and put her hand on his face, drawing his gaze to her.
“I trust you,” she said, “and I thank you for what you have done for me. I pray that someday you may find peace.”
He drew her in for a final, passionate kiss. So sweet was it that his resolve almost wavered. However, it was that very longing for her that told him he had to leave. He would not allow her to be hurt. He stroked her hair and then set her on the floor. Hefting his weapons and his pack, he made his way out of the inn.
Reesa stood for several minutes, lost in reflection of all that had passed in the last week. In the end, she thought, she had gained much more than the safety of her home. The warrior had awakened her once more as the woman she should be. Perhaps it was time to search for a new husband, a man she could love and be loved by, a man who could be a father to her son. Karanikus had made her aware once more of her need for love.
“Thank you, my warrior,” she whispered. Then she dressed and went to the kitchen. It was time for life to move on.
END CHAPTER FOUR
A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed. It makes my day to see such glowing praises of my work. To The Virgin Nympho: my advice to you is to read, that’s all. Read really good fantasy authors and use elements of their style. The writing of this particular tale is largely based on Robert E. Howard’s stories of Conan of Cimmeria. Howard had godlike abilities as far as poetic violence went. Also read some of Robert Jordan’s stuff. As to the erotica, what I do is this: I make sure that my characters are “making love” rather than “fucking.” There’s a HUGE difference. Keep the focus on the emotional connection that sex brings, and on the intimacy and closeness associated with it. Read Jean M. Auel as well, she does excellent love scenes.