July 2011 Contest - FreedomFreedom means a lot of things to a lot of people. In fantasy it can mean peace for an oppressed kingdom, equality for a downtrodden race, or even the ability for a single man or woman to find their own path in life.
This month’s challenge is to write a short fantasy story or scene that involves freedom.
Rules1. Must be prose.
2. 1,500 - 2,000 words.
3. Must include the theme of freedom and some element of fantasy.
July's WinnerShanothaine
See all the entries and the results here:
http://fantasy-faction.com/forum/writers-corner/july-writing-challenge* * * * *
(
Notice from the author: This piece might prove a bit disturbing for sensitive readers and/or children. My intention was not to shock or offend, but the events are crucial to the growth of the character.)
SEPHIEL OF WHISPERSONG
Sephiel gazed out over the west as the sun descended into the vast ocean of trees, casting shadows and gilding canopies that rose high enough to touch the last rays of the day. Above her, the stars made their appearance, arriving one by one until she could see the constellations she had come to know.
There, she thought, is Kalaen and Luatyr, lovers holding each other knowing that when the morning comes, they will have to part once more. In the south the Serpent coiled, its fangs glaring. The stellar glare danced in its eyes as they gazed into the heavens. A warm breeze took up and threw about her robes, and brought with it the subtle sounds of the Academy behind her.
She had lived here all thirteen years of her life, nestled in the mountains of the east, looking out over the great forests and expansive plains to the north. Shaer Indenil, the Alabaster Tower, was where Sephiel spent her life, learning the ways of the ancient order of Spellsingers, devoting her life to the goddess Kalaen. She had never set foot beyond the steep walls of the Academy – the evangels of the Goddess were to serve from their sanctuaries alone.
Glancing up once more, she saw that the moon had finally come to join her children in the night sky. The milky light consumed the forest, which had driven the final beams of sunlight into the west, and was now washed by the opalescent hues of the evening. As she stood there, the winds spoke to her and she turned her gaze to the north: A company of riders made their way across the vast plains; a host of men on horseback were travelling across the fields. Yet they were far away, and Sephiel turned lazily to retreat for the night, and forgot about them completely.
Sephiel’s chambers were small, but comfortable. In a corner, a fire was gently crackling in the hearth, and streaks of moonlight danced through the latticed window. An oak carving of the goddess Kalaen stood in stark beauty on a small table and a censer breathed languid wisps of incense smoke into the cool night air.
Yet for all the comforts of her room, Sephiel could not sleep. She tossed about her bed, dreading the dark of the night. Her blonde hair was cold with sweat, and she could feel tears preparing to spill from her cerulean eyes.
The distinct click of her door latch drew a gasp from her small body, no more than a whinge muffled by the thick evening. The door slowly opened, and the familiar rustle of robes seemed to fill her senses. Sephiel closed her eyes.
Please, Goddess. Please, not tonight.
Sephiel heard material falling – no doubt the robes. Extra weight made itself onto her bed. Its wood creaked in agony.
She could smell him. The sweet wine on his breath washed over her, nauseated her. His hand stroked her face lightly. She opened her eyes.
“Please,” she managed to say, but it was barely audible. His eyes were bloodshot, and a dark grimace was drawn across his face.
“Shhh, little one,” he croaked. He drew away her sheets.
“Please,” she repeated in a whisper.
“Enough,” he placed his one hand firmly over her mouth, and slid the other up her night dress.
Sephiel whimpered in anguish. He jerkily took off her clothes, exposing her.
She lay there, powerless as the Chancellor of Shaer Indenil raped her. Again.
When he eventually finished, her face was stained with tears. He didn’t even look at her as he left her room and locked her door.
Sephiel curled herself up, and let the tears come until she fell into an uneasy sleep.
The clarion ring of the night tower’s bell jerked Sephiel from her nightmare. She could hear footsteps outside of her door, but a look out the window told her it was still deep night. Someone pulled on her door.
“Sephiel! Unlock your door. We must leave!” It was the voice of Dandrith, one of the student prefects.
“I... I can’t! It’s locked from the outside.” She called to him as she quickly dressed.
“Blood of Tiral,” she could hear him say, followed by a quick songspell. The door came flying open.
“No time for a locksmith, I’m afraid,” Dandrith said with a smile as he came into her room. “Come,” he extended his hand.
Sephiel took it, and grasped tightly. The warmth from his muscled hands seeped into her bones immediately.
“You’ve been crying, Sephy,” he said.
“Don’t worry. What’s going on?”
“The Academy’s under attack. Dean Aleria has called for all the students to go to her rectory. Now come!”
Sephiel and Dandrith ran with great haste through the dormitory, to the western tower. All around them, older Spellsingers made their way to the east, to the front gate of Shaer Indenil. Sephiel couldn’t help but notice the swords and staves these Spellsingers carried, and the anxiety in their eyes.
“Dan, what’s happening?” she asked as they ran.
“I’m not sure – but I heard one of the sentinels shout something about a Salda war party.” A chill ran through Sephiel as she heard this. The Salda were a rumour; a threat often spoken about yet never seen. What are they doing here? She thought.
As they ascended the stairway to the Dean’s rectory, a great tremor travelled through the building, throwing them to the ground. Screams could be heard from behind them.
Sephiel gave a cry, but was quickly pulled up by Dandrith into a hug.
“No time for this, Sephy,” he whispered into her ear as his muscled arms tightened around her, then he continued up the stairs.
The Dean’s door stood open, yet there were two Spellsingers standing guard at the door.
“I found her,” Dandrith said hastily as they came to the door. Sephiel could see a wave of relief wash over the guards’ faces as they let them pass through. Inside the rectory, about twenty students were already gathered.
“Thank the gods,” Dean Aleria said as she saw Sephiel and Dandrith. “And thank you, Dandrith.” She gave him a curt nod.
Aleria stood regally behind her table, her white robes flowing from her body. As the dean, she was responsible for the safety of the students at Shaer Indenil, and she took her charge very seriously.
“I am afraid the walls of the Academy have been breached,” she began. The students around Sephiel gave each other nervous glances before Aleria continued, “A message has already been sent to the capital, and help should arrive soon,” she paused, looking Sephiel in the eye, “but for now, we need to get you to safety. We,” she motioned to Dandrith and to other prefects, “will lead you from Shaer Indenil, into the mountains. From there, we will make our way to the capital.”
The students all burst out at once, yelling questions in fear.
“Hush,” Aleria said with a lifted hand, and they fell quiet, “Now is not the time for discord. You will do as you are told. Follow us.”
Aleria made her way to the back of the rectory. She pulled aside a tapestry to reveal a passage way leading down into darkness. One of the prefects followed her, and then the students. Dandrith came up to Sephiel, and took her hand in both his.
“Don’t be afraid, Sephy,” he said with a comforting voice, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Now come, let’s get you to safety.”
The trek down the passageway was tedious but undisturbed. After about half an hour, they emerged from a hidden door at the bottom of the western tower, away from the main conflict. Yet they could hear the screams of their allies and the clash of steel on steel. They continued around the tower unnoticed towards a side gate to the complex, but the group was suddenly intercepted by a dozen Salda soldiers.
Not wasting any time, Dean Aleria began a songspell, and a battle ensued. However, Sephiel would not witness it, for Dandrith grabbed her by the hand and dashed away with her. In his other hand, he held a package covered in leather.
“Sephy, listen to me,” he said to her once they were hidden behind a large statue, “take this.” He handed her the package. “You must get this to the capital. Do you understand me?” Sephiel nodded, confused.
“But you’re coming with me, right?” she looked into his grey eyes. “Dan, you’re coming with me?” She trailed off as she saw the look in his eyes.
“Run along the wall until you get to the stables. Take a horse and ride. The stars will guide you. Do you understand me?” Sephiel couldn’t manage a response. “Sephy, please, do you understand me?”
“Yes, I...” she was interrupted as he kissed her. His warm lips seemed to melt her fear, if only for a moment, then he got up.
“Run,” he said as he drew a short sword from his belt, “run!”
The stables were right in front of her, but there were three Salda soldiers blocking her way. They didn’t notice her – they were preoccupied with the single Spellsinger in front of them.
The Chancellor, Sephiel thought as she saw his face. Fear flooded her. There stood her rapist, surrounded by enemies. She could help him – surprise the Salda with an attack from behind. She wasn’t trained in full warsong yet, but she knew a couple of fundamental battlesongs. She began to recite the song in her head, but stopped.
I will not help you.
She watched in silence as they fought, the Chancellor dispatching of one, then two Salda. The third circled him warily. Then, in a flash of steel, they came together, blood gushing from both. The Salda collapsed to the floor, and the Chancellor fell to his knees. Red came rushing from his mouth.
This was her chance. Sephiel dashed across the small clearing towards the stable.
“Sephiel!” the familiar voice called to her, and she looked around in trepidation, “Sephiel, please... I can’t sing a healsong – I’m too weak.” The Chancellor looked straight at her, his eyes pleading.
Sephiel looked at him intently. She knew every line of his face with repulsive familiarity. She spat at him, and turned towards the stable.
Only when her steed had carried her far from the Academy did she stop to look at it. In the distance, Shaer Indenil shone like a star, flames lashing out from the towers. For a moment she simply looked, and whispered a single word into the night air before she urged her horse to continue.
“Dandrith...”
Then she was free – free from the Salda, free from the Academy, free from her molester. But Sephiel would never quite be free from the man she loved.
