Ok, this is a story I am starting and I wanna get more opinions on it so here it is...I figured people would be to lazy to go to fictionpress.com to read so I'm posting the first two chapters here.
Would really appreciate constructive criticism...
Windfall
Book One
Advent's Awakening
Glossary of Important Terms-
Diyva- Sanskrit word for "divine", term applies to those who use parakram, the sacred power taken from Yastherou .
divya-parakram- "divine ability", term for the powers each Divya uses, which are defined within two categories: elemental and dynamic.
devi/deva- means "god" or "goddess", usually applies to kings and queens, applied here as worship of royalty was common in ancient times.
-
At the end of it all, Gaia was dying. Man had finally exhausted all that his birthplace had to give and had begun to destroy himself. From the heavens, the old goddess Yastherou heard man's cries in the midst of his suffering. Her heart filled with pity, and she took the last descendants of man away from the ruins of Gaia and carried them aloft into the skies within herself. With the last of her strength she led them through the stars to a new dwelling where they could start a new. Upon arriving at this new haven, man had drained all of her power, and Yastherou fell from the stars and died on the surface of the land. To this day, where she lies is called Yas-Kathali, "Her Resting Place". It is from these grounds that the remnants of man set foot on this new earth to explore and settle in its farthest reaches. Those implementing Yastherou's power became the rulers over the others and thus began the Age of Divya, a time when all that was holy walked and ruled the land directly.
This is a tale of the First Age's descent into ruin, and the awakening of The Binder, Judge of the Sacred Remnants.
Cold.
It’s everywhere.
Rushing, embracing, swirling around you. A constant roar in your ears, and a queasy feeling in your stomach. No light. Linen flutters against your skin. You begin to flail inside the chaotic darkness, fear gripping your heart. Breaking free, your surroundings feel even colder, and you stare into the glowing face of a giant white luminary. You turn your head to see behind you, your body follows. You see the world. Falling between clouds, the land mass below rushes up to meet you. You begin to scre-
Arjun awakens in a cold sweat, shivering and gasping for breath. He calms himself and checks his surroundings. He’s not falling from the moon, he’s still here, near ground, still alive. He reaches for a robe on floor next to his cot. It doesn’t help his shivering… the cold’s coming from within.
In the cot a few feet from his, a body rustles beneath thin sheets. Kishan turns around, one eye peeking out from under the linen, illuminated by the pale moonlight piercing the omnipresent darkness.
“Yejeni hai?” Falling again? He asks, staring at Arjun’s back.
“……Kol heti.” Go to sleep. Arjun says quietly.
All is silent for a moment, until Arjun looks back at his berth mate with an irritated look on his face. Kishan sighs and turns back around in his cot.
Who are you? Arjun asks in his head.
I do not know. A voice answers.
-
Rajesh opens his eyes to a stone sky. Well, a painted sky anyway, the same sky he’s opened his eyes to every morning of his life. He sighs as he sits up in his canopied bed and looks around him. Same colors, same furniture, same room.
No change.
He gets out of bed and stretches, and, as if on cue, Arjun walks in and bows, then attends to getting Rajesh’s clothes.
“Arjun,” Rajesh starts.
“Yes lord?”
“…How long have you been standing there?”
“Lord?” Arjun looks puzzled
“Outside my room, how long were you standing there?”
“It was for but a few moments my lord.” Arjun says, casting his eyes to the ground. Rajesh shakes his head. Arjun was obviously lying, most likely he had been waiting there for more than a few minutes, maybe an hour, being the loyal servant that he was.
“You need not wait on me hand and foot.” Rajesh says as he walks towards a partition for changing into his clothes.
“It is my duty, lord. Besides, Mahvash-deva ordered me to especially tend to you in the coming week until your Oath.” Arjun opens the giant chest full of garish robes of royalty, a few fall to the floor.
Rajesh’s anger rose a little, at first because of Arjun’s respectful reference to his sister as a goddess, and second, at the thought of the Oath.
“Please, do not remind me.” He says with an exasperated sigh.
“My apologies, lord.” Arjun replies softly, picking up the fallen robes and choosing others to give to Rajesh. The prince selects a few and walks behind the dividing wall.
“Ahti,” Rajesh curses “why must you be so formal all the time? Do you not see me as a brother?” He smiles as he asks, and looks through the patterned holes in the wall at his friend. Arjun looks away with the slightest smirk, Rajesh laughs. He steps out finally, wrapped in a bright red, gold threaded diri, the traditional garb for nobles and royalty.
“Lord, I don’t beileve the Fesitval of Ahura is commencing anytime soon.” Arjun states.
“Dearest friend, Ahura can burn in his own flames for all I care; I’m simply in the mood for red.”
-
Arjun finishes tidying up Rajesh’s room; he strolls out holding two thick cords that connect to the massive doors of the prince’s quarters, which close with a resonant thud that echoes in the immense hallway.
This palace holds many memories.
Arjun reminisces about his arrival to this life years ago. He, a mere child holding Queen Mahvash’s hand as they walked down this same corridor, his eyes staring in wonder at the colossal splendor around him.
“I think Rajesh will like you, little one.” Mahvash had looked down at him, her face showing no expression, her presence, the embodiment of formality. The two servants that accompanied you both had hurriedly opened the doors to Rajesh’s room and bowed to Mahvash as she passed. Arjun had stared at one of them and they'd winked with a friendly smile, he quickly looked away.
“Raj, I have something for you.”
The then only 8-turns old Rajesh looked up from his game of shirza and stared blankly at his sister. He had gotten up and slowly walked towards him until he stopped but a few feet away. Mahvash thrust him towards the prince suddenly and with a small cry he had landed at his feet.
“What will you name him?” the Queen had asked as Rajesh kneeled down to look at the child before him.
“…I am not sure.” He replied softly. Silence hung in air for awhile.
“Well, he is branded with your crest, so he is yours. Do as you wish.” With this statement Mahvash abruptly turned around and left Rajesh’s quarters. Silence crept in again, with Arjun prostrated before the kneeling prince. Rajesh had lifted his face and looked in his eyes.
“What is your name, friend?” He asked, his expression wasn’t contempt or arrogance, only interest.
“Arjun…”
“You may keep it.” Rajesh said as he walked back to where the shirza board lay, he picked it up, and brought back to the middle of the room, placing it between them. He rearranged the game pieces to their positions and placed two dice in Arjun’s hand.
“Your move.” He said.
-
Rajesh saunters out of the castle and out onto the promenade that led to the noble datma, or gymnasium, one of the four places he was permitted to go in these next few weeks.
According to Balrain tradition in the city of Vishal, all boys of noble ancestry were to compete in the Oath of Akhil, a passage to manhood. It involved fierce, bloody battles between all male heirs of noble families that are 17 turns old. If the boy at least survives the ceremony in the alotted time, he is considered a man. If one defeats all the others, however, he has a chance at becoming an heir to the Throne of Balra. During the four weeks leading up to the ceremony all noble boys are considered "sacred" and moved to the palace quarters. They are only permitted to step foot in their quarters, the datma, the Throne Room, and the Hall of Remnants.
It is for this reason that Rajesh envies commoners.
Most nobles look at the common folk with disgust, however, every year they themselves watch more savagery than any commoner would ever see or commit in his life time. But such is our way. Rajesh thought. He opens the doors to the datma and wrinkles his nose at the smell of sweat. Inside are noble boys and their trainers, wrestling, fencing, running, or simply meditating. The prince walks past a small group of boys practicing swordplay, as he passes, a few stare and whisper among themselves. He makes his way to the very back of the huge building where there is an open changing pen. He begins to take off his robe, still aware of eyes watching his every movement. After folding the bright robe and adjusting his under-kilt, he calls for a servant boy. A young child hastily approaches, carrying long strips of white cloth. Rajesh takes these and wraps his forearms, abdomen and legs. The child bows and runs away.
Ambling to a less crowded part of the main floor, Rajesh begins to stretch. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a few other boys return to what they were doing. He continues stretching for a few more moments and then looks around for his trainer, Bharat. No sooner had he thought of the man did he see him walking out of the steam baths from across the datma. He was an elderly man, who walked with a comical limping step. Though a few boys snicker as he passes, most stared with respect. This man is the creator of the Nahar fighting style, which encompasses both hand-to-hand, weapons, and, according to rumor/legend, divya-parakram (divine ability) combat. They all knew that behind that wizened face and beady pair of eyes was a strong soul, and a vast knowledge of a deadly art.
The old man hobbles towards Rajesh, and upon recognizing his student he gives a wrinkled smile.
"I beat you to the floor again basu, I even took my time with the wrappings." Rajesh teases as he stretches his chest.
"Merely enjoying the steams, my son, pull back your left arm a bit more."
"Yes basu. At your young age? Of all men, you surely don't need the steams..."
Bharat laughs "And you wonder why you're not my favorite."
Teacher and student laugh together and a few boys look over to see what its all about. The other trainers shake their heads. What a lack of discipline.
"Practice your alith stances while I get a few things, we start on weaponry today."
"Yes basu."
Bharat hobbles off and Rajesh is once again alone. He performs a few stances and then notices a few boys coming towards him. He acts as though he doesn't notice. As they come closer, Rajesh recognizes one of them as Damodar, the eldest son of House Basir. He and his group make a half circle around the prince, who ignores them.
"I don't think they let women in the datma at this time." Damodar snarls, his cronies laugh.
"Well then... what are you walking around for? Get out of here." Rajesh replies. The cronies stop laughing, and some look nervously between the prince and noble heir.
"You will not take your Oath. I will kill you first."
"If women could take part in the Oath maybe you could." Rajesh smiles, he loved using other peoples words against them. Damodar's face twists in anger as he took a stride forward and prepared to take a swing at Rajesh.
"I could destroy that pretty-boy face of yours." He threatens.
"You think I'm pretty?"
"Do you have a deathwish?!" Damodar asks between clenched teeth. Though being taller and a little more muscular than him, Rajesh still stares cooly into Damodar's eyes.
"...Does it really make a difference?"
The question hangs in the air for a moment, then crashes down with understanding. Damodar's fist lowers. Everyone knows that Rajesh has a point.
"Is there a problem?" Bharat asks as he shoulders his way through the group of boys.
"No basu." Damodar replies softly, still staring at Rajesh with a look of confusion. He walks off, his underdogs loyally follow. A few look back at the prince, their eyes revealing a newfound respect.
"Very well then, let us continue," Bharat displayed two curved short swords in his hands ", what are these?"
"Umari, twin blades, basu."
"Good, these are the ceremonial blades of the Oath......"
Rajesh could no longer pay attention, he'd suddenly realized what he'd done. In his response, he'd stripped away Damodar's bravado and had brought everyone back to reality of what they were training for.
On the ceremony grounds, most or all but one noble heir would be slayed, there was no way to back out of it. This was the passage to the second cycle of life, manhood. All their squabbles and rivalries from childhood meant nothing in the face of the Oath. It would be the day that they would all be equal, the ultimate test of their strength, both in mind and body. And though they try to puff their chests and mask their feelings behind stony faces, they all know this one, irrefutable truth. That on that day...
Blood and tears will flow.
________________________________________
Chapter 2
Oath
It is one day before the Oath.
Arjun walks through the palace corridors to the Hall of Remnants, he had asked a few other servants where Rajesh was, and they said they had seen him go there. He was worried about his friend, over the past few days Rajesh seemed to be losing himself. His eyes no longer had the glimmer that was always in them before. His posture was slumped, his face always expressionless.
Arjun approaches the giant hall, with its towering statues of famous divya that walked the land long ago. Sunlight filters through the myriad of pillars, and a warm breeze weaves its way throughout. Arjun looks around, checking to see if anyone else is there.
"Raj?" his voices echoes into the distance. There is no answer. He walks deeper into the chamber, repeating Rajesh's name. Finally he finds him, kneeling that the statue of Jayant, a divya known in ancient times for his strength. Rajesh is simply kneeling there, his back slouched, head hung.
"Raj...are you well...?" Arjun asks
"You did not address me as lord." Rajesh states. Though he feigns authority, his voice is weak.
"I come to you now not as your servant, but as your friend." Arjun replies softly, kneeling in front the prince. Rajesh body shakes a little, he's crying.
"...I do not know if I can go through with this." He says between soft sobs. Arjun puts a hand on his shoulder.
"But it is your way. If you refuse to take the Oath...you will be shunned." Arjun reasons. Rajesh slowly raises his head and looks at him, tears running down his face, his eyes suddenly intense.
"I would rather that than death!" He says between clenched teeth. Arjun stares back at him.
"No you don't. To be shunned is suffering, and I will not let you suffer."
"But I am suffering now..." Rajesh sobs again.
"It would be worse than this, I am sure." Arjun grasps his master by his shoulders.
"This is the end of me...this is the end..." Rajesh laments, putting his head in his hands.
"It is not! You will live. I swear it." Arjun grips Rajesh's shoulders tighter, but the prince bats his hands away and suddenly stands up. He turns away from him.
"Rajesh-deva," a deep voice calls from the other end of the hall ", the final preparations for your Oath must be completed." Four men in white approach the two boys. The leader is tall with dark skin and a shaved head, the crest of high-priesthood upon his forehead. The men stop behind the prince.
"Rajesh-deva, the time has come." The high-priest says. All is silent for a moment.
"I know this, Dhaval." Rajesh replies, his back still to them. His voice is no longer choked, but holds a tone of menace. Silence creeps in again, during which Dhaval motions to the other priests. They begin to step forward. Rajesh flicks his wrist, and from the sleeve of his robe a dagger falls into his hand. With surprising speed, he pivots around and slices one of the men on the arm. Another attempts to grab him, and gets stabbed in his hand, he yells in pain, blood drips to the ground. Rajesh tries to fight the three priests off but is overpowered. He drops his dagger as he wrestles, as if taken by insanity, in the men’s arms. Dhaval stares, expressionless, at the boy as he is carried off between the pillars and statues of the hall.
"Arjun!" Rajesh cries. Dhaval nods to the servant, then walks away. Arjun's eyes shift to the dagger lying on the ground a few feet from him. It lies there, blood and metal glistening in the shaft of sunlight. He walks over and bends down to pick it up. It is warm to the touch, the ornate carvings on the hilt spackled with the two priests’ blood. Arjun falls to his knees clenching the ensanguined dagger, suddenly overcome with grief. He rests his forehead on the base of Jayant's statue, tears running down his face.
Give him strength. He prays.
Rajesh's endless wails echo through distant passageways.
-
Morning.
Day of the Oath.
Day of death.
Arjun had prayed the night before, prayed to every divine being he knew of, entreating them, if they existed, to help Rajesh in his time of need. Kishan, his berthmate, had come in from work for one of the noble Houses and stood there at first, perplexed as Arjun recited holy writ while kneeling at the side of his cot. Eventually Arjun had thrown the writings aside in frustration and broke down crying, and Kishan had knelt beside him telling him that the Divine Ones were listening.
Arjun certainly hoped so, because faith was all he had to hold onto now.
He walks in procession with other servants to the ceremony grounds. There are smatterings of conversation throughout the slow-moving group; however most are silent, keeping the solemnity of the occasion. Servants of noble families were the only commoners permitted to view the ceremony, but even then, the families might only let those in whom they instilled deep trust to attend. Mahvash had sent a personal note to Arjun's quarters ordering his presence at the event. All Arjun can think about is Rajesh, and how today might be the last time Arjun would ever lay eyes on his sworn friend. He tries to prepare himself for what he is about to witness, but he knows he can't. The groups of servants file in through the massive doors of the arena, most of the heads and older members of noble families were already seated, waiting quietly up above the lower servant seats. Arjun looks out towards the main floor to catch a glimpse of Rajesh, but it is still empty. He finds a seat, three rows from the floor, and settles in it. His heart begins to pound.
-
"Raise your arms." Bharat says to Rajesh as he wraps him in an isha, a thick, white cloth wrapped and folded around the body as flexible, lightweight armor. Rajesh obeys and looks past Bharat at the other boys being wrapped in the same fashion by their trainers, some even helping each other. He locks eyes with Damodar, and the noble's eyes blaze in hatred and eagerness at him. Rajesh facilely breaks his stare, and looks at others. He recognizes a few, Esmail of House Firdaus (whom he also considered a friend), Inderpal of Lavanya, Anupam of Basant and a few others. None but Esmail notice his blank gaze.
Bharat finishes the lower wrappings and stands up; he looks into Rajesh's eyes and pats him on the shoulder.
"Jayant prabhu, Durga raghu, tama ai shreya." Jayant's strength, Durga's speed, best of luck. The old man brings Rajesh's head down and kisses him on his forehead as a father blesses a son. Rajesh says nothing, and Bharat hobbles off. Esmail's trainer finishes his preparations and the boy makes his way to Rajesh. He stands close to the prince and opens his hand, in it, a simple band of red thread.
"For Radha of Sonal, after you take your Oath." He says. Rajesh looks out towards the end of the small corridor at the families gathering on the high seats, at the same time closing Esmail's hand.
"My Oath is not certain." Rajesh says softly.
"…It is." Esmail replies, then he walks away, beckoned by his trainer.
-
The crowd is finally settled, and conversations melt away into silence as Dhaval walks out of a large tunnel on the arena floor. The heirs trail not far behind. They are all wrapped in pure white isha, the crests of their houses painted on their foreheads. Their faces reveal nothing, they are simply blank as they walk. Dhaval stops in the middle of the floor, the boys take their places along the circumference, heads bowed. Dhaval looks up at the crowd.
"This gathering is one of solemnity, but in the end, one of joy. At the end of this ceremony, we will welcome some of these young men into nobility as men." The high priests voice echoes all around the assembly. Arjun tires to find Rajesh on the floor. He is there, on the left-hand side, his face just as blank as the others.
"This is the gate to the second cycle of life, the cycle of manhood, a time where you will prove yourselves as the next leaders of the Noble Houses." Dhaval's intense gaze shifts to the heirs around him
"Just as there is bloodshed for the birth of a child... there will be bloodshed for the birth of men." At those words the heirs suddenly unsheathe each of their umari blades in perfect unison. Dhaval walks off the arena floor and up the grand flight of stairs to the giant throne where Queen Mahvash sat.
"In the next two cycles of the day, you must prove yourselves worthy of the task given to you." The deep rumble of the riq’a drum punctuate Dhaval’s words.
"Let it begin."
-
Eerily synchronized, all of their heads raise. Each of them lock eyes with one another, but none of them move.
Time itself seems to stand still.
Suddenly, one of the boys is charging at Anupam, his twin blades glinting from the light of the torches. As he gets closer, he swipes low with his blades in a scissor like motion. Anupam twists his body to the side and vaults over his opponent, at the same time stabbing him in his shoulder. He lands behind the attacker and crouches, barely dodging a desperate one-armed swipe aimed at his head. In this moment, the boy is exposed. Anupam springs up from the ground, slicing upward into the boy’s torso, blood sprays in a crimson arc. He then thrusts his umari into the enemy’s heart and abdomen, the boy yells in agony. With a final grunt, Anupam kicks him away, freeing his blades from the boy’s body. As soon as the body hits the ground, the rest of the heirs join in battle.
-
Out of the corner of his eye, Rajesh sees Damodar fighting his way towards him. He will be occupied for awhile. Rajesh thinks as he dodges as weaves through the mass of violence around him. Suddenly he is face to face with Hari, an heir of House Mansoor. Rajesh assumes a defensive stance as Hari charges him. The boy slashes upward, attempting to slice Rajesh’s abdomen. Rajesh leans backward to avoid the blow and lets himself fall towards the ground. Hari, seeing this as a chance, lunges and thrusts his blades at Rajesh hoping to skewer him. The prince kicks out his leg however, and catches the boy in his chest. Working with his opponent’s momentum, Rajesh rolls backward, catapulting Hari over and behind him. Hari lands on the ground with a thud, the wind knocked out of him.
Rajesh, now upright, faces yet another attacker. He parries and counters a series of attacks, then ducks low, sweeping his leg to stumble his enemy. Rajesh’s umari incise the boy’s chest before he falls. Suddenly, Hari is behind, ready to pierce Rajesh through. With surprising speed the prince spins around and slashes in a wide crescent, lacerating Hari’s throat with both blades. His bloodcurdling scream bates to a spumous gargle as he attempts to stop the blood, with no avail.
-
Arjun stares in horror at what he’s watching. A few other servants had already ran out of the ceremony chamber, hands over their mouths, bodies seized by the need to vomit.
Arjun is surprised that he himself isn’t running with them.
His eyes are transfixed on Rajesh. He had never seen him move like this before.
Fluid.
Deadly.
The way he brandished his blades, the way he evaded and slipped past his opponents defensive and offensive strategies. It was as if he had been doing this all his life. His isha is stained with noble blood, his face unnervingly calm. He doesn’t bat an eye at the carnage he causes, but simply gazes at his next prey, and engages. He, Damodar, Esmail, and seven others are all that’s left. They maneuver over the corpses of the fallen, trying to avoid slipping into puddles of blood.
Esmail is fighting two opponents at once, and he too is a sight to behold. The two try to attack unison to overpower him, but he still stands, countering and evading attacks. One of them suddenly slips behind Esmail, attempting to finish him off from the back. Esmail skillfully bends low and lunges forward, piercing the belly of the boy in front of him. Falling to his knees, Esmail then bends backward and propels his umari blades into the torso of his rear attacker.
Arjun’s eyes shift back to Rajesh, who is now facing Damodar. The rivals are engaged in a fierce, fast-paced battle. Rajesh agilely maneuvers past all of Damodar’s attacks, matching his foe’s strength with speed. As Damodar lashes out with his leg, Rajesh catches it in the crook of one arm and stabs his knee. Damodar bellows in agony, and his eyes become wide with horror as Rajesh swiftly pivots behind him and slashes his throat. Damodar falls to the floor, writhing and gargling amongst dead bodies. Finally he lies still, and Arjun watches as Rajesh look up at his last opponent.
-
Esmail stares back at him, equally sullied with blood, equally calm. Rajesh launches himself forward. As he watches Rajesh hurtle across the floor, Esmail twirls his blades. They engage, both moving around each other and attacking with surprising speed. They both have a similar style: reactive defense accompanied by a barrage of precise thrusts and slashes. Esmail thrusts towards Rajesh’s throat, but the prince cuts his hands, making him drop his blades. Esmail quickly adopts a defensive stance. Rajesh suddenly stabs Esmail’s thighs, and with a cry the boy begins to stumble. The prince is upon him then, holding an umari at his throat. Esmail closes his eyes, waiting for the cold steel to slice his neck.
It doesn’t.
He opens his eyes to see Rajesh in his face staring at him, sweat on his brow, panting. The coppery smell of blood fills his nostrils. The entire arena is silent. Rajesh’s eyes are intense; he leans down to Esmail’s ear.
“You can live,” He whispers “, it is close to the end of this. We could take the Oath together if we just wait.”
Esmail’s heart thumped, the choice was his.
“Do you wish to finish this with me[/I[I]]?”
“…Now is not a time for mercy…take my life” Esmail states quietly.
“All we have to do is-”Rajesh starts, but Esmail interrupts him.
“Where is your honor Raj?!” he whispers between clenched teeth. Silence hangs between them for a moment.
“…I will do as you had asked in the beginning……Though I have slain many on this day, it is for your life that I will claim bloodguilt.”
Esmail closes his eyes, and in that moment, Rajesh takes his life.
-
The Queen was the first to stand up. Her flowing robe trailed after her as she walked down the huge flight of stairs to Rajesh. His blades drop with a clang on the stony steps, blood drips from his hands. She embraces him, her garments becoming stained blood.
“Wonderful.” She whispers in his ear with a devilish grin at the massacre. She pushes him back, her hands grasping his shoulders like a proud parent praising a child. Rajesh looks into the eyes of his sister, and for the first time sees her as she truly is. The riq’a drums weave a dark rhythm as the high priest Dhaval walks down to bless the prince. The sounds of cheer and mourning blend in the chamber. Amidst the commotion Rajesh looks out and finds Arjun in the crowd, staring back at him with hollow eyes.
There will be bloodshed for the birth of men. Bloodshed heralding a new cycle.
Let it begin.
:)
Sooooooo??
|LXM|