Thursday, August 23, 2012

3: Legacy of the King

Chapter 3: indirect murder

            My head aches immensely as I get up on unstable legs. I look down and I nearly faint from either what I see of the dizziness of my legs. My right leg is bruised with some internal injuries and my left leg basically skinned. My head has to endure another blowing pain as if struck by a hammer and all I can do is hope that the hit hasn’t done any damage to a part of my nervous system. The results would be fatal from a crash like that. I stare around at the ruins of the shop. ‘Come on! Now I’m probably going to be on the wanted list. How can I assure my sister a good life like this? That is of course if she survives the dreaded flu.’ The thoughts floated in my mind and stayed there though I didn’t want them to, like a stale smell in the air. The first order of business though, is to get out of here as fast as possible or to hide. I haven’t got much time. The Watchers would be here any second. No doubt they would be so angry they would kill anyone there.

‘That girl had expertly dashed out of here as quick as a sprite.’ I thought to myself. I crouch low bending almost in double with my hands swinging at a ferocious speed. In this way, my father had thought me; you could almost double your sprinting speed and at the same time be so low that you could run and crouch to hide at the same time.

It takes me less than twenty seconds to clear the area only thinking about where there would be a good place to hide and look at the plaza. I quickly scale the broken down abandoned tall grass hut next to me. It is very rickety and old so I watch my step as I climb up. I can’t help but look down and nearly choke on rising bile. I am over three stories high where even a full grown man might die from a drop as high as this. I move forward slowly and cautiously, but I still make the mistake of putting all my weight on my left leg. It burns and I wail silently in agony. By doing this I only put more pressure on the roof. It caves in leaving me hanging in one hand. I hear the horrible sound of the woven hay, hardened by age, splintering and breaking apart. Finally the entire roof gives way and down I fall.

I overcome my shock and don’t move. I don’t scream. I accept it all with a frightening understanding that my time has come and Death has won this little game. It always held the winning cards in its hands; I was just biding my time. I wait for the horrible moment when I will have to come into contact with Mother Earth. I was a bit happy to die this way. In the soil I would stay forevermore. At least I wasn’t vaporized or incinerated or taken by a blade to the heart. These were the thoughts I had in a split second. Then I had a vision.

 A black blade and a green serpent staff lying over the mountains and outside of Partridge. Labyrinths of tunnels were surrounding me. Finally I heard myself and others shouting a war cry led by a man I couldn’t recognize. He had gleaming black hair with muscles that rippled over his tanned skin. He turned around and faced me but all I saw was white. The vision was charred and blotchy. It came out in short moments with few words heard such as: “The… king… prophecy… legacy…”

Next, so fast the naked eye couldn’t follow, came a hand that darted out from over the roof of another building. It grabbed my elbow with a supernatural speed and hoisted me up. The roof of this building was stone—a much sturdier element, but too steep to climb. The top was rough connected to a low built catwalk to another house across the alley. The other buildings were either straw or stone. This one had a tiled surface and a melancholy grey color. There way a worn black cobblestone pathway leading of into the eastern edge of Partridge. Now I look into the gaze of my savior.

Up close you see red-brown hair, fierce green eyes with bags under them, and a tall fair body. Her face was catlike and royal. She held her shoulders high and moved with a rarely ever displayed grace and balance. She was again the same woman at the (once-was) bookstore. She looked angry and ready to kill.

“You are lucky I saved thee from such a treacherous fall.” She half whispered half hissed.

“I know. Why did you save me? What is your name? Where do you come from? What do you know about the books? I’m Orion.” I managed to stammer.

“Please stop the questions." Secillia said somewhat amusingly. "I couldn’t let any Watchers stray up on a dead body. I would get captured. I also feel there is something special to become of you . . . Orion. I am Secillia. The books are fake. Truly amazing that another one knows the truth…” She replied.

I noted the gravelly tone Secillia used. Special might be for the worst. Meanwhile I began to wonder how this female aristocrat knew about the book lies. There were only more lies in the higher and richer part of Partridge. The closer you got to Shage the deeper the lies. We shortly talked more about the plaza and, I apologized for knocking her over. I began to like Secillia. She talked when necessary and had an essence of pure intellect and beauty. We sat there alone till nightfall watching the angry mob of angry Watchers wrecking the plaza looking for us.

A Watcher looks at the quivering merchant I knocked over, kneels down, and pulls a dagger. They talk for a while and the merchant delivers a scream before he finally dies by a dagger through his temple. That was my first sight at Death overtaking someone by the blade. It was a horrifying experience and I could not help but whimper. I was saved from Death and this innocent merchant takes my place. It was then that I realized what I had done. The merchant was innocent. If I hadn’t knocked down the shack and caused commotion he probably would still be alive. I started going ballistic over this totally rational idea that I had indirectly murdered a man’s life.

I was interrupted in my thoughts when Secillia murmured, “Good riddance Bevin!”

“How can you say that? He had a life like you or me.” I exploded.

After she came over the shock that I heard her she looked self-pitying, then angry. “I was almost found by the Watchers because of him. He said my name which the Watchers are always attentive to listen for!”

A hard core icy heart she had. We didn’t say anything for a long time until she started crying. I could ear her say something about how mean and cruel-hearted she was, but it was all drowned out by tears. I cradled her head on my lap for the rest of the night. Finally the rising sun came and with it I dozed of into a deep slumber, with nightmares about an indirect murder, dreams about my new friend, and pondering what my near-death vision meant. No doubt today probably changed my life forever. And it did.

To Be Continued…

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