Shaehl
03-02-2006, 12:36 PM
This is a short piece I had to write up for my writing class. It's still just a draft, so any critique at all would be appreciated. The story is actually what might have happened at the end of a fanfiction I wrote previously, had I not decided to make it a fanfiction.
Anyway, here it is:
What course will you take now, Xaer? The question wedged itself into his mind like a mental splinter that could not be extracted. His eyes, like drops of ice, narrowed slightly in frustration as they joined a clenched fist in protest to the situation. Though the outward signs were hardly noticeable to untrained eyes, Xaer was an emotional wreck. A disconcerting notion, considering the mercenary believed he had done away with all traces of those particular facets of himself long ago. Emotion served no purpose in his existence. Indeed, not only did he find it useless, it developed weakness and vulnerability. This fact was more than known to the normally unmovable man; his own experiences had proved its validity. Why then, could he not dismiss the chaos of his thoughts?
He took a steadying breath and habitually brushed away the dark trickle of hair falling over his eyes. Two lifeless forms, a man and a woman, with features forever locked in their last moments of agony, lie still before him. The ruined state of their bodies was surpassed only by that of their household, making it more than obvious that the cause of death was anything but natural. However, it was not the recently deceased that had so upset the swordsman’s inner-balance—he was no stranger to death—but the small, female figure kneeling mournfully beside them. Aided by the glowing embers of the manor, pale flames of moonlight entered through a hole in the roof and lit the room. The resulting gold and silver seemed to coalesce on the sobbing girl, giving her long black hair a nearly ethereal glow.
Despite the side of him that said that he shouldn’t care, that he didn’t care, Xaer found himself pitying the girl who he had served as escort to for the past three weeks. After all, he had been through the very same situation years before.
Hidden safely within the forest shrubbery, a younger Xaer took in the sound of fighting around him. Dozens of weapons lent their cries to the chorus of battle that night, each seeking to be heard over the rest. One blade’s sinister song did rise above the clumsy tunes of the others, promising death to all those whose ears it reached. The boy recognized it as his father’s; it was as much a part of his daily life as waking in the morning and sleeping at night. Foes would come—sent by his parents’ enemies or simply looking to make a name for themselves—and always they would be fall to his father like limp grass before a strong gale. As absurd as it seemed, he knew this time would be different. Countless swords rang out in challenge, only to be silenced one by one shortly after. The glorious song could not continue for long though. There were simply too many enemies…
The frown that seemed permanently etched into his features deepened further as he brushed away the lingering memories. Yes, he knew all too well the effects such an incident could have. Even so, Xaer was not known for possessing any great measure of empathy. The denizens of dark corners and secluded alleys in every town he’d entered would attest to quite the opposite. In times past, he had not thought twice about abandoning former employers when they were of no more use to him. Other options simply did not exist, or at least had never crossed his mind. If anything of his conscience still remained, even it would not protest taking such a course of action given the current situation.
The calloused warrior had been hired to escort the girl, Serra, back to her family’s estate from a city separated from her hometown by a mountain range. He had accomplished this perfectly. Usually, the mountains were not overly dangerous; anyone would have sufficed as a guide. A mercenary of his caliber would hardly be needed in such a case. This particular family however, was wealthy, powerful, and had many enemies. They had apparently placed too much value in their daughter’s protection and not nearly enough in their own. Regardless, any obligation to her had been more than fulfilled. The way he saw it, she was in his debt. While the payment he’d received was certainly sufficient for the task, suffering through the young woman’s ceaseless babble and infuriating behavior for three weeks was not something he had agreed to when taking up the job.
Why he was even considering the girl’s fate and whether or not he should play a part in it remained unknown to him. Interfering would not benefit him in any way. It would not help him defeat his current enemies, or better prepare him to face new ones. Only inconvenience and irritation would come of it. He scowled, briefly, noting how very much like excuses his reasoning sounded.
Wood creaked and groaned overhead before giving in to the ground’s pull and falling away from the smoldering ceiling. The pieces of roof landed in a cloud of ash and flame only an arms length behind him. Xaer took note of this and dismissed it in his mind before the debris even began its descent. He knew it wouldn’t hit him. Though he supposed it would be best not to linger while the building crumbled around him. Strangely, the thought seemed of little consequence at the moment. First and foremost in his mind was the dilemma regarding Serra. He watched her silently, merely a shadowy silhouette against the glare of the hungry fires behind him. Incoherent noises of loss and sorrow spilled shakily from her lips while tears slid slowly down her cheek. The scene was disturbingly familiar to him.
An exquisite sword pressed its sheath against his side, and a black cloak flitted listlessly about his equally dark clothing. Countless lives had been ended at this hunter’s hand, without a hint of regret on his part. Improving his skills had been his one and only objective—aside from survival—for as long as he could remember. What made this girl different from anyone else? He did not know. What was it about her that had him standing here, rethinking the deeply ingrained patterns of his normal behavior?
Perhaps it was, at least in part, due to the fact that no one had ever really wanted to get to know him before. True, Serra’s idea of intelligent conversation had nearly driven him over the edge many times over the course of their journey, but it was still the closest thing to companionship that he had experienced in years. His cold demeanor turned away most attempts at socialization and once he had progressed as a fighter, his reputation scared off the rest. Maybe it was simply how closely the girl’s present situation was to his own that made him pause and analyze his options. Either way, he could not deny that, seemingly for the first time, the thought of returning to his solitary wandering did not please him.
Thick, acrid smoke scratched at his throat as it began to permeate the air more fully, serving to remind him that remaining in the tattered building was not wise. Serra, however, did not seem to grasp this truth in her current state. Despite being spoiled, pampered and possessed of a generally misguided sense of self-worth, the girl was undoubtedly kindhearted. Perhaps too much so. With no family, no home and nothing left of her wealth, Xaer knew she wouldn’t survive long on the streets. Not without a drastic change in perspective and even then, there was no guaranteeing her continued existence. He himself had only barely managed to get by during the first years of his transition.
What course will you choose? The question pushed itself to the front of his musings once more. Allowing her to accompany him in his travels would not make achieving his goal any easier. In addition, it would surely be for her own good if he were to leave now. To join him in the many conflicts bound to arise along his path would be just as, if not more, dangerous than the alternative. Though, Xaer was confident, and rightly so, that no challenger could actually best him.
Involuntarily, Xaer’s mind’s eye called forth images and memories of the last three weeks: Serra’s carefree smile. The stream of chatter the seemed to flow perpetually from her mouth. How she managed to keep a straight face while suggesting to him ludicrous notion that everyone needed someone to trust… For reasons beyond his understanding, the swordsman found the idea of his ward’s childish demeanor being replaced with the cold emptiness that had so fully marked his own existence, a repulsive thought. It had not escaped him that he could not hope completely protect her from the immaterial consequences of her parents’ death. All the same, he felt unable to stop himself from doing everything in his power to minimize those effects.
Xaer started forward, compelled by a part of him he had forgotten existed. His booted feet brushed over the blackened floor with hardly a whisper. Coming to a stop just behind the weeping Serra, he paused for a moment and set his lips into a grim line of determination. His hand, scarred and rough, came to rest softly upon the delicate curve of her shoulder. Having only now noticed his presence, the girl turned toward Xaer. Despite the glimmering tears, Xaer could clearly make out the question in her gaze. “Come,” he said, his voice without inflection yet somehow softer than normal. “We must leave this place.”
Perhaps it was time for a new goal, a new challenge. After all, his skill with the blade was second to none in all the surrounding areas. He had not fought a suitable opponent in far too long. At the moment, it was simply unfair to expect the poor excuses for warriors this land produced to have any chance of besting him. With the added complication of protecting Serra, maybe hunger of his blade would be somewhat sated… Xaer knew those were hardly logical reasons to take the girl under his wing, but he supposed that maybe, they didn’t have to be.
Anyway, here it is:
What course will you take now, Xaer? The question wedged itself into his mind like a mental splinter that could not be extracted. His eyes, like drops of ice, narrowed slightly in frustration as they joined a clenched fist in protest to the situation. Though the outward signs were hardly noticeable to untrained eyes, Xaer was an emotional wreck. A disconcerting notion, considering the mercenary believed he had done away with all traces of those particular facets of himself long ago. Emotion served no purpose in his existence. Indeed, not only did he find it useless, it developed weakness and vulnerability. This fact was more than known to the normally unmovable man; his own experiences had proved its validity. Why then, could he not dismiss the chaos of his thoughts?
He took a steadying breath and habitually brushed away the dark trickle of hair falling over his eyes. Two lifeless forms, a man and a woman, with features forever locked in their last moments of agony, lie still before him. The ruined state of their bodies was surpassed only by that of their household, making it more than obvious that the cause of death was anything but natural. However, it was not the recently deceased that had so upset the swordsman’s inner-balance—he was no stranger to death—but the small, female figure kneeling mournfully beside them. Aided by the glowing embers of the manor, pale flames of moonlight entered through a hole in the roof and lit the room. The resulting gold and silver seemed to coalesce on the sobbing girl, giving her long black hair a nearly ethereal glow.
Despite the side of him that said that he shouldn’t care, that he didn’t care, Xaer found himself pitying the girl who he had served as escort to for the past three weeks. After all, he had been through the very same situation years before.
Hidden safely within the forest shrubbery, a younger Xaer took in the sound of fighting around him. Dozens of weapons lent their cries to the chorus of battle that night, each seeking to be heard over the rest. One blade’s sinister song did rise above the clumsy tunes of the others, promising death to all those whose ears it reached. The boy recognized it as his father’s; it was as much a part of his daily life as waking in the morning and sleeping at night. Foes would come—sent by his parents’ enemies or simply looking to make a name for themselves—and always they would be fall to his father like limp grass before a strong gale. As absurd as it seemed, he knew this time would be different. Countless swords rang out in challenge, only to be silenced one by one shortly after. The glorious song could not continue for long though. There were simply too many enemies…
The frown that seemed permanently etched into his features deepened further as he brushed away the lingering memories. Yes, he knew all too well the effects such an incident could have. Even so, Xaer was not known for possessing any great measure of empathy. The denizens of dark corners and secluded alleys in every town he’d entered would attest to quite the opposite. In times past, he had not thought twice about abandoning former employers when they were of no more use to him. Other options simply did not exist, or at least had never crossed his mind. If anything of his conscience still remained, even it would not protest taking such a course of action given the current situation.
The calloused warrior had been hired to escort the girl, Serra, back to her family’s estate from a city separated from her hometown by a mountain range. He had accomplished this perfectly. Usually, the mountains were not overly dangerous; anyone would have sufficed as a guide. A mercenary of his caliber would hardly be needed in such a case. This particular family however, was wealthy, powerful, and had many enemies. They had apparently placed too much value in their daughter’s protection and not nearly enough in their own. Regardless, any obligation to her had been more than fulfilled. The way he saw it, she was in his debt. While the payment he’d received was certainly sufficient for the task, suffering through the young woman’s ceaseless babble and infuriating behavior for three weeks was not something he had agreed to when taking up the job.
Why he was even considering the girl’s fate and whether or not he should play a part in it remained unknown to him. Interfering would not benefit him in any way. It would not help him defeat his current enemies, or better prepare him to face new ones. Only inconvenience and irritation would come of it. He scowled, briefly, noting how very much like excuses his reasoning sounded.
Wood creaked and groaned overhead before giving in to the ground’s pull and falling away from the smoldering ceiling. The pieces of roof landed in a cloud of ash and flame only an arms length behind him. Xaer took note of this and dismissed it in his mind before the debris even began its descent. He knew it wouldn’t hit him. Though he supposed it would be best not to linger while the building crumbled around him. Strangely, the thought seemed of little consequence at the moment. First and foremost in his mind was the dilemma regarding Serra. He watched her silently, merely a shadowy silhouette against the glare of the hungry fires behind him. Incoherent noises of loss and sorrow spilled shakily from her lips while tears slid slowly down her cheek. The scene was disturbingly familiar to him.
An exquisite sword pressed its sheath against his side, and a black cloak flitted listlessly about his equally dark clothing. Countless lives had been ended at this hunter’s hand, without a hint of regret on his part. Improving his skills had been his one and only objective—aside from survival—for as long as he could remember. What made this girl different from anyone else? He did not know. What was it about her that had him standing here, rethinking the deeply ingrained patterns of his normal behavior?
Perhaps it was, at least in part, due to the fact that no one had ever really wanted to get to know him before. True, Serra’s idea of intelligent conversation had nearly driven him over the edge many times over the course of their journey, but it was still the closest thing to companionship that he had experienced in years. His cold demeanor turned away most attempts at socialization and once he had progressed as a fighter, his reputation scared off the rest. Maybe it was simply how closely the girl’s present situation was to his own that made him pause and analyze his options. Either way, he could not deny that, seemingly for the first time, the thought of returning to his solitary wandering did not please him.
Thick, acrid smoke scratched at his throat as it began to permeate the air more fully, serving to remind him that remaining in the tattered building was not wise. Serra, however, did not seem to grasp this truth in her current state. Despite being spoiled, pampered and possessed of a generally misguided sense of self-worth, the girl was undoubtedly kindhearted. Perhaps too much so. With no family, no home and nothing left of her wealth, Xaer knew she wouldn’t survive long on the streets. Not without a drastic change in perspective and even then, there was no guaranteeing her continued existence. He himself had only barely managed to get by during the first years of his transition.
What course will you choose? The question pushed itself to the front of his musings once more. Allowing her to accompany him in his travels would not make achieving his goal any easier. In addition, it would surely be for her own good if he were to leave now. To join him in the many conflicts bound to arise along his path would be just as, if not more, dangerous than the alternative. Though, Xaer was confident, and rightly so, that no challenger could actually best him.
Involuntarily, Xaer’s mind’s eye called forth images and memories of the last three weeks: Serra’s carefree smile. The stream of chatter the seemed to flow perpetually from her mouth. How she managed to keep a straight face while suggesting to him ludicrous notion that everyone needed someone to trust… For reasons beyond his understanding, the swordsman found the idea of his ward’s childish demeanor being replaced with the cold emptiness that had so fully marked his own existence, a repulsive thought. It had not escaped him that he could not hope completely protect her from the immaterial consequences of her parents’ death. All the same, he felt unable to stop himself from doing everything in his power to minimize those effects.
Xaer started forward, compelled by a part of him he had forgotten existed. His booted feet brushed over the blackened floor with hardly a whisper. Coming to a stop just behind the weeping Serra, he paused for a moment and set his lips into a grim line of determination. His hand, scarred and rough, came to rest softly upon the delicate curve of her shoulder. Having only now noticed his presence, the girl turned toward Xaer. Despite the glimmering tears, Xaer could clearly make out the question in her gaze. “Come,” he said, his voice without inflection yet somehow softer than normal. “We must leave this place.”
Perhaps it was time for a new goal, a new challenge. After all, his skill with the blade was second to none in all the surrounding areas. He had not fought a suitable opponent in far too long. At the moment, it was simply unfair to expect the poor excuses for warriors this land produced to have any chance of besting him. With the added complication of protecting Serra, maybe hunger of his blade would be somewhat sated… Xaer knew those were hardly logical reasons to take the girl under his wing, but he supposed that maybe, they didn’t have to be.