《Requiem》 0. Prologue What makes us human? Is it that we are concerned about the future? Is it that the past frequently haunts us? What drives us? What makes us do the things we do? I do not want to live like this, regrets and memories¡­worries and pain¡­. I want peace. I want to live like a dog. It lives in the present, happy just to be alive, to just spend time with the ones it loves. I want to live like this. Free of my past, my future. Free¡­ I have not had an easy life. Far from it. Does this entitle me? Does life owe me because of the injustices I have been dealt? I do not know. Nature has been my family¡­Loving me in its own way, Strengthening me slowly¡­I have learned to live..no, it has taught me to live. I have learned to grow, watching nature in its glory. I have watched it storm and rage. I have witnessed its strength, its gentleness, its vitality. But most of all, it gave me the one thing I needed in abundance. Solitude. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Solitude has been my sole companion, my drug. Comforting me in my time of need. Welcoming me with open arms. I have learned to embrace it. I have learned to love it¡­.tears streaming¡­I have learned to live, I have learned to love. ¡°Man is neither good nor evil, he just is.¡± A wise man I once knew told me, lifetimes ago, to a different me, a better me. Holding me with those piercing blue eyes of his¡­staring into the depths of my soul¡­stripping my soul bare with his infinite wisdom. He said the one thing I wanted to know, the one comfort I craved¡­the one lie I wanted to hear. It was a long time later that I understood what he meant. Is it too late I wonder¡­to turn back, All those eyes¡­.looking at me with their dying breath, cursing me with their last breath. I carry their will, their hatred and their lives within me. My life encompasses theirs. I have destroyed infinite possibilities, I have created infinite possibilities. I am the trunk, branching infinitely. Their joys, their sorrows, their shame and their pride, it is mine to bear. This is my life. Take from it what you will. Judge me how you will. I will be long gone¡­lying down in a meadow, staring at the moon, tears streaming¡­in nature¡¯s lap¡­ the journey ending where it all started. 1. Under the Oak It was a dark night. The clouds, grey-clad in the night sky, covering the bare sky with their wings. Covering the night sky like a conquering soul travelling across the dark sky. The moon pushed through them, a wraith-silver discharging in the lonely sky, bleaching the land into a ghost - like replica of daytime. The grey-clad soul and the silver pearl fighting for dominance in an endless ritual. Sublime and beautiful. Streaks of moonlight, as bright as diamond-flame, piercing through the clouds like spears of melted platinum. it was as if watching a scene from an old fable stepping off the page. Beguiling in its beauty. One such moonlight spear illuminated the majestic oak, a lonely figure, rested under it, his back against its trunk. It was a young boy, clearly undernourished, its deathly claws visible through his dangerously thin frame. His hair, midnight black, was short and irregularly cut, adding to his pitiable image. The boy looked up, an empty husk of what he once was. His eyes the most remarkable feature on his otherwise ordinary face. They were a shadow of what they once were. Distant and forlorn now, replacing the liveliness they once contained. The twinkle in his eyes, hinting at mischief and laughter, hinting at wit sharp as steel tempered in dwarven hearths¡­ replaced by sorrow. They were a shadow of what they once were. Expressive eyebrows, shaped into a deceivingly perfect arch, followed the slight curve of his eyes. His facial features were sharp, merely a reflection of his entire body structure, and everything - from his skeletal arms to his thin waist screamed of unnatural skinniness. He looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful night, he couldn¡¯t help but observe despite himself. If only his situation was different, he would have stayed there, under the tree, taking in the night, its beauty and its magnificence. But that was not the case. He had to move, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn¡¯t. Has the peace he so desired finally come forth? he wondered as his vision slowly dimmed. He was happy¡­ It has been a long time since he has felt anything. The act of feeling an emotion felt alien to him after so long. It doesn''t matter anymore, how it felt, he just wanted peace. He looked up at the magnificent oak, remembering the last few weeks. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.He had been walking¡­ He had been walking, the action consuming his entire mind. He walked, not with a destination in mind but with an intense desire to forget. He walked so as not to remember. He let it consume him. The action, one foot ahead of the other, over and over..He let it consume his entire being. He breathed in the cold air without conscious thought. He ignored the biting cold his ragged clothes couldn''t keep out. There was nothing to ignore. There was nothing else. There was only one thing his mind knew. One foot in front of the other. The moonlight spears occasionally casting their pearl-light on the path. The wind howling, the cold biting. One foot in front of the other. His feet were covered in blisters, a majority of them broken and bleeding. He couldn¡¯t feel them. He couldn''t feel anything at all. He did not know how long he had been walking for. He couldn''t remember where he was going. He had been walking for so long. He stopped counting after three weeks. He no longer recognised the surroundings. It has been a long time since he recognised any of the markers along the path. He wished he would die soon. He wished he could just drop down while walking and never get back up again. He kept walking until he could walk no more. There was an oak standing proudly off the path, like a sentinel guarding an entrance. he had always loved trees. They felt so magnificent. They felt so accepting and tranquil. Fighting off the weariness, he pushed forward, on his will alone. His body protesting against the torture he put it through, he moved, with his will alone, crawling to the oak after his legs gave in. His fore-arms bleeding where stones dug into them as he dragged himself forward. He collapsed onto the trunk, he had nothing else to give, he had given it his all, his entire soul..to make it here, wherever it was, he had reached the oak. He could carry on no more. He embraced the night then, welcoming it like it was the love of his life. 2. The Silent Birth Years ago. The peaceful village of Towold settled down for the night, the houses silent while the inns burst forth with noise. Mothers tucked in their children while fathers sat by the fire, a lit pipe nestled in their lips. A few of the more rowdy crowd spent their day¡¯s earnings at the inn, drowning themselves in music and revelry while the innkeeper patiently kept up a steady flow of ale, rum and other intoxicants. ¡°Where is Arran, Wont she be playing tonight?¡± Arles asked Munder, the Innkeeper. Munder looked up, a thoughtful look crossing his face. ¡°She¡¯s expecting tonight, could be a few weeks before she gets back to playing the violin here¡± he shrugged. ¡°That so? How¡¯s she been doing with that asshole of a husband¡­.?¡± Thomas enquired, interjecting himself into the conversation, seemingly intoxicated, face flushed. ¡°It¡¯s for the womenfolk to gossip about such things, none of my concern¡­none of anyone¡¯s for that matter¡± Munder shot back, fixing Thomas with a stare. ¡°and no more for you, I think you¡¯ve had enough¡± he added as an after thought before going back to cleaning glasses at the counter with a rag. ¡°Aye, it¡¯s for the womenfolk to gossip about such things¡± Arles nodded, adding his own scowl to Munder¡¯s. ¡°I at least care about what is happening to her rather than push away the responsibility to the womenfolk¡± Thomas spat, indignantly, his face flushing a deeper red. ¡°You think I don¡¯t? You think I haven''t tried to help her?¡± Munder growled, ¡°I have approached her many times, that my doors would always be open for her, Enel too has gone to her with the same offer¡± he looked down, ¡°more times than I care to remember¡± he mumbled before looking back up and fixing Thomas in another scowl ¡°She is too proud for her good.¡± ¡°I volunteered to be with her today¡± Enel spoke from behind Munder. ¡°She refused, saying it would only make things worse.¡± ¡°Can the village do nothing?¡± Thomas asked, pity and desperation creeping into his voice. ¡°What can we do when she doesn''t want our help? Maybe she will change after tonight¡­.motherhood does that to people¡± Enel replied despondently before looking at her husband, looking into his eyes as those amber orbs looked back into hers, ¡°..maybe¡­¡± On the outskirts of Towold, a lonely house, set apart from the other houses, one that had seen better times. It was on its last legs, paint peeling off, cracks running through the walls. It was lit from within by a single oil lamp. Panting could be heard from within. A woman, in her twenties, she couldn''t be called a goddess, but she was lovely, her face tender, her eyes scrunched up in pain could not hide the warmth and the beauty of her soul. She was in labor while a midwife tended to her. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Push Arran, you can do it. I can see the head¡± said Jane, the midwife. Arran continued her exertions, giving it her all. She would live for her child. She had wanted to kill herself, she had even tried. Jane, who had come unexpectedly, saw Arran on the floor, bleeding through her wrist. She quickly stopped the bleeding and stitched up the cut, using her knowledge as one of the village¡¯s midwife. She knew a bit about medicine and the human anatomy. While nursing Arran, she realised that Arran was pregnant. She told the same to Arran, hoping that she would want to at least live now for the sake of her unborn child. She was right. Arran lived, with determination in her heart, she willed herself to live. Arran pushed one final time before relaxing. She was excited, tired but excited. She looked at Jane, expecting her to say something, only to see that she was mortified. ¡°What happened Jane?¡± ¡°The baby is silent, and not moving¡± she replied, looking distraught. Arran was terrified. This was her baby, her only reason to live. She could not lose it, she couldn¡¯t take it anymore. ¡°Give me my baby¡± Jane hesitantly handed over the baby, worried about Arran. Arran looked down at her baby. It was a boy. Tears welled in her eyes. He was her baby, her life, her very flesh and blood. She wanted to live, for the first time since a very long time. She wanted to live and she wanted the baby to live. A tear slid down her cheek, falling on the baby¡¯s face. She moved a finger to wipe it. She felt something holding the finger very lightly, it was the baby¡¯s hand, wrapped around her finger. She looked back at the baby¡¯s face, gently disengaging her finger from the baby¡¯s grip and wiping at the tear. The baby opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. Arran was overjoyed, the baby was alive, he was just silent. Those eyes, dark as night, they were startling. They were piercing yet gentle and comforting. She knew a baby couldn''t convey any such emotion so young, but it didn''t change the fact that those eyes were unique.
Hello All, I have decided to forgo the quality of writing in favour of a quicker plot. I would be making it as gramatically correct as I can and would make the story readable. The quality of writing itself would be a little on the lower end until I reach chapter 20. I will be coming back and editing everything until I am satisfied with the quality. Thanks. PS: any suggestions and comments are greatly appreciated. PPS: The story would be focussing on his childhood for the initial few chapters. Expect a lot of romance, which would be quite crucial to the story later on. 3. Captive It was afternoon. The sun high up in the sky. A convoy rumbled on the path, trudging forward slowly. It was made up of a dozen carts, with a couple of wagons at the font, middle and the back. Each of the carts contained a single cage on the back. A tarpaulin barely covered each of these cages, putting on a meager effort to keep away the heat and sunlight. Huddled together in the carts, there were shapes, humans. The floor of the cages was made up of hay, enough to lessen the impact of the cart as it trudged along but not enough to be comfortable. The humans kept together, huddling close even in the sweltering heat. They formed an island in the centre of the cart, keeping away from the edges, like a child afraid of monsters under his bed. Guards walked on either side of the carts, their armour making up for their shabby clothes. Each of them had a sword at their waist and a buckler stopped against their back. The guards constantly rapped against the cages with sticks, stones or any pointy object they could find, making the prisoners huddle closer still. The convoy suddenly came to a stop as they neared an oak tree. Lying underneath the oak was a boy. The leader of the convoy, a stout looking man approached the boy warily, signalling for a few of the guardsmen to follow. The boy was unconscious, lying with his back against the tree. Randal, the convoy leader splashed water on the boys face, stirring him into consciousness. ¡°Where are you from boy?¡± asked Randal, looking around with suspicion in his eyes. He signalled a few of the guards closer. ¡°Look around for an ambush, make sure that we wont be ducks for bandits who have their own plans for our merchandise¡± he said, directing a few more guards to join the search for possible traps and ambushes in the vicinity. Randal looked back at the boy who was looking back at him apathetically. The boy was clearly malnourished and dehydrated. He looked on the verge of dying. ¡°Are you from around here?¡± Randal tried to reach the boy again. Seeing that he wouldn''t be getting a response from the boy anytime soon, he signalled a few more guards over. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Feed him some gruel and throw the fucker in one of the cages¡±. Two of the guards stepped forward, grabbing the boy¡¯s arms on either side and lifting him up. They half dragged, half carried the boy to one of the carriages in the middle before unceremoniously dropping him to the ground. One of the guards then left, muttering something under his breath while the other prepared a pasty gruel before leaving it at the boys feet. The boy looked on impassively at the bowl, as if he couldn''t register what his eyes were seeing. He just sat there, his eyes distant. Seeing that the boy still wouldn''t respond, the guard irritatedly picked up the bowl. he started shoving in spoonfuls of gruel into the boy¡¯s mouth, making him gulp and swallow the slimy substance. The guard then handed over a pair of clothes to the boy before locking him into the cage. The rest of the prisoners in the cage looked at the new arrival with interest. A few of the more inquisitive ones prodded him with questions before giving up in the face of his impassiveness. The boy moved towards one of the corners of the cage, resting his back against the bars of one of the sides while looking on through the other side. The cages jerked back into motion after some time. The prisoners went back to huddling against each other while the guards walked along the carts. The ones escorting the boy¡¯s cart looked at him curiously, prodding him with their sticks. They too, like the prisoners, quickly lost interest in the him, their sadistic game of poking him failing to elicit a response from the boy. The caravan rolled on for days, the boy losing track of them, before they reached the outskirts of the first city that he had witnessed in a long time. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I understand that this chapter is a bit rushed and that I should properly describe whatever is happening in more detail. However, like I mentioned in the previous post, i would be concentrating on building the skeleton of the story before coming back and fleshing these parts out. If you are comfortable with reading this like a first of many drafts, kindly proceed. If you are not though, I urge you to check out this fiction once I redraft everything after chapter 20. Cheers 4. Cyrium The boy looked on from his corner in the cage as they slowly neared Outer Cyrium. Forests giving way to plains which in turn surrendered their foothold to vast fields of wheat and other forms of sustenance. He took in everything, not letting his midnight black eyes rest as they darted back and forth across he scenery. The caravan slowed down as the road became busier with wagons and caravans headed towards the Grand market of Cyrium, as well as those of happy merchants and farmers heading back home after a profitable day at the market. The fields slowly gave way to the inevitable slums that are abound in every city, no matter what is claimed otherwise. The sprawling slums slowly diminishing as they neared the city, leading to simple houses of wood and stone, most probably owned by the peasantry and the common folk. Their life one of simplicity and handwork. They were content with what they had and more often than not, lived a happier life than the nobles who were always embroiled in their petty schemes and politics. The caravan slowed down and ground to a halt as it reached the gates of Inner Cyrium. The city walls were massive. Made of stone and iron, they promised blood and death anyone with a mind to attack. Thirty men could stand on each other¡¯s shoulders and still only be able to barely clear the top. The wall, despite it¡¯s size, was built like a rampart and surrounded the entire circumference of the sprawling inner city. It was believed that the fortifications of the city were built during the rule of Oror, The Eighth Incarnation of Holaph on the mortal plane. Cyrium was supposedly considered a minor city then, its gigantic ramparts built only as an afterthought during the construction of the legendary city of Dwarka, the illustrious capital of the mighty Ororian empire. Only legends remain of Dwarka and the Ororian empire. Fact sullied by fiction. Rumours and myths, twisting it so that the truth was long lost in the sands of time. Whatever the legends maybe, Cyrium is one of the few existing monoliths of Ororian pride and glory. Its fortifications, which easily cover a circumference of 40 kilometres, a testament to its prowess. Trade flourished in Cyrium, owing to its promise of security. As a consequence, people started congregating over the years, reaching a point where the city of Cyrium had to spill over outside its fortifications. The nobles and elites fought for the prime locations within the city wall while the poorer folk were left to fend for themselves outside the walls. The peasants and common folk were more than content staying in the shadows of Cyrium¡¯s walls and earning their livelihood outside them. The city gradually grew, it¡¯s walls also acting as a distinction between what were later termed as Inner Cyrium and Outer Cyrium. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The only exception to this class divide is the market that thrives in Inner Cyrium. It has become the symbol of Cyrium over the years. It was rumoured that you could get anything you wanted in Cyrium¡¯s markets if you knew where to look. The market was at the centre of Cyrium. There were many attempts by the nobles to occupy this prime location. They were all thwarted by the entire peasantry and the other nobles uniting in a rare occasion of common objective. The caravan was thoroughly checked at the gates for anything illegal, not that there was much that was illegal in Cyrium. The carts then slowly made their way towards the market. There was a drastic difference between the buildings outside the walls and those inside them. While the buildings outside were simple and practical, a majority of the inner city buildings were ornate and rich. The houses could no longer be called houses but mansions, their splendour and extravagance only increasing as the caravan meandered towards the market. The road was paved with cobblestones and was well maintained as opposed to the packed dirt roads outside. There were street lamps on either side of the central road while smaller roads that branched away from the central road had their own sets of streetlights. Everything in the inner city spoke of wealth and opulence, it¡¯s presence only increasing as they progressed neared the market. The boy looked up at the roof of the cart, his midnight black eyes seemingly boring a hole in it. It was his first time in Cyrium and he couldn''t help but wonder how his mother would have been excited to have visited her first city¡­.if she had still been alive. Tears involuntarily streaked down his cheeks, as long suppressed memories burst forth in a raging torrent, threatening to overwhelm his sanity. He fought back, suppressing them again like he had for the last month. The prisoners who noticed his tears were bewildered. This was the first emotion that they saw on the boy since he joined them around a month ago. The boy wiped away the tears with his sleeve and stood up as the carts rumbled to a stop at the entrance of the market. 5. Auction The slaves were ushered from their respective carts and made to fall in line at the entrance of the market. Collars made of cast iron, fitted with a lock at diametrically opposite ends so that the two halves could be snapped open and close, were placed around their necks. Each of the slaves were then chained to each other. The children were made to form a separate line, with similar collars placed around their necks. The boy, who was placed towards the centre of the second line looked around, noticing that there were more caravans unloading similar wares at the entry to the market. Each of the slave caravans had their own unique traits. Some had only female slaves, others, only children. Some of the caravans used sinister looking collars with spikes on the inner side which dug painfully into the slave¡¯s necks. The boy was grateful that his own captors did not use similar tools of the trade. Each of the caravans formed their own lines of bound slaves, before herding them closer to where Randal¡¯s slaves were lined up. The caravan masters greeted each other enthusiastically, inspecting each others wares and congratulating the one¡¯s who had a good haul this time. The boy couldn¡¯t help but notice that Randal was among those that were being congratulated. After what seemed like an eternity, the slaves were urged to move, all of the various slave lines moving strangely in sync through the pushing and prodding of their respective owners. As they proceeded into the market, a wide range of smells and sounds hit the boy. There were a humongous number of stalls, crammed into every available space one could find. There were an even more humongous number of street peddlers, hawking their various wares laid out on blankets on the ground. As the patrol approached to evict them unceremoniously, the peddlers grabbed the corners of the blankets, lifting them to collect all of their wares in one fell swoop and then vanishing into the crowd, only to set up shop somewhere else. As they made their way through the throngs of people, from time to time, a part of the slave procession would be separated from the group before being led towards another direction, towards a possibly different destiny. A better one? or something worse than what awaited the boy? He did not want to know. The female slaves, who were a significant part of the group, were the first to be split off from the group. Many of the Caravan leaders split off to join this group while the other caravan leaders, Randall included, led the group containing the boy. The significantly smaller group had an easier time navigating the crowds, this difficulty, progressively decreasing as additional groups of slaves were split from the group and led in different directions. Randall stuck with the original group of slaves, which now mostly comprised of children, as they finally reached their destination. They entered a single storied building, the guards acknowledging Randall with a curt nod before pushing the doors open. The slaves were then led towards a side of the building, housing what looked like a huge cage. The slaves were led into the cage before their collars were unlocked. The boy massaged his neck and collarbones, trying to soothe where the collar had chafed his skin. The ones with the spiked collars were given rags to wrap around their necks as some sort of a makeshift bandage. Randall and the other caravan leaders stood off near the cage, discussing something while pointing at a few of the slaves. After what seemed like a few hours, a procession of men walked in, dressed richly with flowing robes made of silk and gold thread. Their clothing as well as demeanour spoke volumes about their wealth. They strolled up lazily towards the cage and peered in scornfully. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. The caravan leaders immediately approached the nobles, fawning over them and flattering them with subservient smiles and false praise. They spoke for a while, gesticulating at the slaves while the nobles peered back into the cage. The nobles then proceeded towards a circular dais that was placed adjacent to the cage and sat around it in ornate chairs. The caravan leaders then unlocked the cage and proceeded to prod the slaves one by one onto the dais. The nobles then bid for the slaves, their voices never raising above a whisper, never rising against each other. The boy hadn¡¯t seen any auctions during his life, but he had never expected it to be so full of etiquette. It was his turn now. Randall prodded the boy onward to his future, whatever it may be. The nobles inspected him like they did every other child before a noble to the right of the boy bid the highest. The boy was then led off to a different room where the slaves who have already been auctioned were segregated into groups. The boy could only assume that the groups were based on who bought the slaves. He was placed in a small group, consisting of only two other slaves. They were younger than him by the looks of it, or they could have been older, he couldn''t judge since they looked more undernourished than the boy himself. The slaves waited for a long while, as new slaves were brought in and added into the groups. There was only one another addition to the boy¡¯s group as the sun set and night dawned. Oil lamps were lit around the room and gruel was provided to the slaves. After a few more hours, the slaves were then carted off towards the exit, where there awaited slave carts of various sizes, not unlike those that were used to transport the slaves into the city. The boy¡¯s group was led towards a small cart, painted a bright blue. It was one of the few carts that was loud in it¡¯s colours. Painted in various shades of bright blue and yellow, it stood out from most of the other carts. There were also a few other carts that were similarly showy. Each of these carts was painted differently, some had horses painted ornately all over the cart while other had a man hunched over a horse painted on their sides while others were painted in startlingly bright combinations of greens, reds and other colours. The noble who had bought the boy¡¯s group came up to them and inspected them once again before heading back to his carriage. The boy¡¯s group was then prodded towards the cart behind the noble¡¯s carriage before locking them in the cart¡¯s cage. The cart started along on the pathway after sometime, towards their future. The boy looked around, his eyes resting on the last boy who was added to his group. He was taller than the boy and lankier still. He did not look undernourished however. Noticing his gaze, the tall boy looked back. ¡°The name¡¯s Ermic, What¡¯s yours?¡± he said The boy stared into Ermic¡¯s eyes. ¡°Arran¡± the boy replied, thinking about his mother. She shall live on, through him. 6. Interlude:Requiem Author Note: The woman is NOT his mother!!!!! Arran found himself in a glade, a garden of Eden. As old as Adam and Eve, the glade was steeped in plushness and vitality. The exquisiteness of the dusk¡¯s light fading in the distance. The stars glinted like silver dust, luminous and bright while a pearly moon hung quietly. Silent in its beauty, regal in its splendour, it looked down upon the glade. A sprawling oak stood magnificent in the centre, a watchful guardian, a silent sentinel. Huge roots spreading out from it¡¯s trunk, twisting like the mythical sea serpents of old. A songbird erupted in a symphony of song, as if beckoning the world to match it¡¯s beauty. A voice, haunting and beautiful, dwarfed the songbird¡¯s melody. It was a gentle autumn rain. It was a raging tempest. It was a requiem. A deep, haunting ballad, it called out to Arran. Do not stand at my grave and weep¡­. for I do not sleep¡­ Arran looked around. He couldn''t see anyone else in the glade. He recognised that voice.. A gentle caress, my love is all it takes for me to brim with joy The glade vanished. He was in a stable now, one that contained many memories, of joy and sorrow, of love and warmth, of him and her. She was sitting in front of him, looking lovelier than she had ever been, prettier than she had ever been in life. Happier than she had ever been in life. She was looking at him, her sea green eyes radiating warmth that enveloped his very soul. It had always been this way, her eyes full of warmth and love, no matter how bad the situation was. He trembled under it, his meagre defences crumbling under a wave of love. One that moves mountains and sunders nations. Lost forever in the sands of time. ¡°A gentle caress, my love is all it takes for me to brim with joy¡± She reached out, gently caressing his cheek. Her smile dazzling, her joy palpable, her love immeasurable. A sweet smile, my love is all it takes for me to find bliss profound The ballad continued, tearing at his soul, crumbling his emotions..He no longer knew if he could stay sane. The pain. It was no longer emotional, it was physical. He couldn¡¯t take it anymore, this pain¡­.he crouched down, curling around himself even as the scene changed once again. They were by the stream. The sunlight providing a gentle warmth, the wind caressing them with a surreal touch. He was still curled up, with his head on her lap. She stroked his hair gently, humming contentedly. He could not hold back his tears anymore. It was too much. Why was this happening? It had taken him all he could muster to lock away these memories¡­Why? Why was this happening? Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. He looked up at her through his tears, she was looking down at him, smiling that divine smile of hers. She wiped away his tears ¡°A sweet smile, my love is all it takes for me to find bliss profound¡± the ballad continued¡­ He had been helpless as he watched her die. He could do nothing to help her. Even in her final moments, she looked back at him with that surreal warmth in her eyes and smiled at him. She did it so that his last memory of hers would be one of warmth and love. It tore him apart, her love¡­her warmth. He would at least do this for her. He smiled at her then, through all his pain, through all his loss¡­.just as she had done for him¡­a lifetime ago¡­. Her face lit up again as she saw him smile. Gently I sway; in lullaby With you in my arms, the love of my life They reappeared in the glade. She was sitting on one of the roots, his head placed in her lap as he cried, as he let it all out, for the first time in years The psalm of sorrow still breathing it¡¯s ephemeral tunes. ¡°Gently I sway in lullaby, with you in my arms, the love of my life¡± she said, speaking for the first time since this nightmare began. Her voice soothed his torrent of pain, stemming it¡­only stemming it¡­his pain was impossible to completely subdue. She gently got up, pulling him to his feet. Her movements carrying a surreal grace and beauty. She looked into his eyes for a long while, filling him with a sense of dread. She was acting like this heaven, this nightmare was going to end¡­She had a sense of solemnity in her gaze. She kissed him on the cheek while caressing the other, one last time¡­.before she turned back towards the tree. She walked towards it, slowly, gracefully. Her form beginning to vanish into the night¡­She looked back at him one last time, as a single tear rolled down her cheek, ¡°I will see you someday in the future not so near, Until then my love, I will love you from here¡± The ballad stopped. It¡¯s solemn departure rending the world of beauty, It rent his soul away, carrying it in its haunting melodies as it drifted off towards a better place, a happier place. Do not stand at my grave and weep¡­. for I do not sleep¡­ He heard her voice once more before everything disappeared.
Hello there! I just wanted to give a brief glimpse of our protagonist''s story. I know that this is still far from it but I hope this chapter was well worth it. Any input is greatly appreciated Thank You! PS: I got my first review today and i would have to leave it out there that it could take a while for the plot to progress. I don''t mean to say that I would be writing fillers. It''s just that life does not have a plot. It meanders back and forth like a river. This is the story of a man, just like any of us. Although there is an underlying plot and motivation in my mind, I would like to develop this gradually and not rush it. But I do promise you that it will not get boring. PPS: I initially wrote this chapter intending to display the bond between Arran and his mother. The chapter however, ended up being too filled up with emotion. So i changed the woman''s role in this. The woman in this chapter is NOT his mother. This chapter is meant to be a foreshadowing of the future. Special thanks to AnarchyDev for his input. 7. Symas The four boys stood in a line, their backs straight as a rod, eyes trained forward. Arran stood at one end of the line, Ermic beside him while Gery and Sige stood on the other side of Ermic. A man, built solid as a rock, paced back and forth in front of them. ¡°I am Symas, the stable-master¡± he said, looking at each of them in the eye, as if daring them to challenge his words. ¡°I expect your submission¡± he paused then, swinging the switch in his hand around before resting the tip against Ermic¡¯s cheek, ¡°your utter submission¡± he added as he swatted at Ermic with his switch suddenly. Ermic had been a slave for far longer than Arran. He had been a slave working in the fields towards the north before the family who owned him decided he was no longer needed. He knew how to act like a slave. No, he did not have to act anymore¡­he had long ago resigned himself to this fate. He did not cry out. Crying out would only have given Symas an excuse to make an example out of him. He merely flinched as the switch welted him on the arm. A couple of years working in the fields, toiling away from morn to dusk would harden any man. His months of starvation in Randall¡¯s caravan could only remove the muscle and fat on him, not his grit. Symas grunted once before moving on to swat at Arran. Arran had been a slave too, of a different kind. He knew how to take a beating. He knew how to bear through the pain. Only the ones above knew how many times he laid down, curled up, protecting his stomach and head with his arms as his inebriated father kicked and punched him. He knew enough to not to show his pain and give any bully the satisfaction they desired. Arran did not even flinch, as the switch left a red welt on his pale skin. Symas eyed Arran, bringing the switch to Arran¡¯s cheek. ¡°Think you are strong boy?¡± he questioned, a dangerous glint in his eyes, ¡°Think you are tough eh?¡± Arran looked straight ahead, a shred of fear creeping into his eyes. He knew what would come next. ¡°No¡± Symas swung out with his free hand, backhanding Arran across the face. ¡° what boy? he sneered. Arran crumpled under the blow, his frail frame buckling under the force, he fell onto his back. There was a gash across his cheek, dripping blood onto his rags. Symas stood there, an eyebrow raised in expectation. ¡°No Sir¡±, Arran managed to growl back, pain tearing through the side of his face as his cheek moved. ¡°You belong to me¡± Symas uttered, a sense of finality in his voice, before turning back towards the others, ¡°All of you¡± he growled. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Lord Egon charged me with doing as I see fit. All he cares about, is that I provide him with race winning jockeys¡±, he looked back at Arran then, ¡°and all I care about, if you fucking follow my every word I say¡±. He knelt down to be eye level with Arran. ¡°Fucking. Every. Word¡± he stressed again before getting up. ¡°Each of you will be trained and tested. Those of you that pass and are deemed worthy shall find that it is in your own better interest¡± he said sarcastically, ¡°those of you that don¡¯t, will be shown how a slave is put to use¡± he paused then for dramatic effect, ¡°first hand.¡± He smiled at his own sick joke, his grin twisting his already ugly features into an uglier version of them. He pointed at a fence then, ¡°See that fence?¡± he asked. It was a huge meadow, cut off from the rest of the world by a white picket fence. There were a few boys, lankily built and seemingly frail, riding on horses while a few men, possibly the instructors under Symas, looked on. The horses themselves weren''t much to look at. They looked like just any other horse. The men shouted and called out to the boys, directing them as they rode around. They were not shy at using the switch to get their point across to the boys. ¡°The previous batch of slaves¡± Symas commented, to no one in particular. ¡°Pile of shit is what they are right now¡­¡±, he added as an afterthought. Breaking out of his reverie, he turned back to the four boys. ¡°Those horses are draft horses, not thoroughbreds. You wont be seeing those beauties anytime soon, not until I deem you worthy¡± he said, eyeing each of them. ¡°You earn your keep here, so rid your pig heads of any other notion. I will work you to your bones. Your only salvation? your only reprieve?¡± he paused then, letting the sentence hang in the air, ¡°is to qualify as an able jockey¡±. He turned back then, ¡°You will start tomorrow. Sleep early, you will need it.¡± he smirked, before leaving. The boys stood there, having no clue what to do and afraid of incurring someone¡¯s wrath by deciding on their own that they were free to go for the day. Another slave hurried towards them after a while, leading them towards the slave shacks.
Hello there! Please note that this chapter is not a continuation of the previous chapter. The previous chapter is a foreshadowing of the future(the events in the previous chapter are set in the future, not the current timeline). Appreciate any input you guys can provide. Thanks. 8. Equs Six months later. The noise from the distance made the stallion nervous. Arran patted the horse¡¯s neck, trying to calm it. He was trying to calm himself too. This was his first race. Ermic was beside him, holding the horse¡¯s reins as he led him towards the starting gates. ¡°The other jockeys are some of the slickest riders in the game, they have been at it longer than we have,¡± Ermic warned as he led Arran and the horse, ¡°There¡¯s a lot riding on this Arran.¡± He said, a sense of finality and doom creeping into his voice. ¡°I know¡± Arran replied solemnly. Ermic grunted at this, letting the matter drop. The past six months had been hell. They had ben forced to train day and night, a few hours of blissful sleep being their only reprieve each day. They were starved, so that they wouldn¡¯t be much of a burden on the horse. They had only one job, and that was to manoeuvre the horse around the other riders. Day and night, they were taught to read the situation. A split second¡¯s decision is all it could take to win the race. Timing was everything. A rider¡¯s wit and perception their sole weapon. Arran was a good rider. The best in this year¡¯s batch of slaves. He quickly climbed the ladder, outpacing even riders that had been training for more than a year. Symas grudgingly acknowledged Arran¡¯s talent, recommending him for the big leagues. Lord Egon was initially hesitant. His better judgement warned him against letting a greenhorn decide the fate of his money, no matter how small. He agreed to let Arran ride in a smaller race before deciding to let him race on his behalf in the bigger leagues. Arran jumped at this opportunity. His situation could drastically improve if he proved his worth as a rider, Ermic¡¯s would too, by extension. They had grown close over the last six months, the hardships they faced together serving only to strengthen their bonds. ¡°You are on your own from now Arran, may Thyight guide you¡± Ermic said quietly after docking Arran at the starting gate. They shared a moment of silent camaraderie before Ermic turned around and left. Arran¡¯s heart pounded as he saw the solid mass of people stretched out before him. Every vantage point in and around the outer fences was jammed with excited peasants trying to catch a glimpse of the spectacle. Many perched on rooftops fully a mile away from the starting point. A raised platform around the track served to seat the wealthier crowd. The owners of the horses and the more prominent Cyrians were seated in elevated and enclosed cabins that towered over everyone else. Arran was riding a midnight black stallion, Equs. It was big and strong, easily one of the bigger ones on the track. This race would also serve as a testing ground for Equs. His lack of experience evident in his jitteriness. His gaze was on the other horses. His nostrils quivered and he shook his head nervously. Arran was having a hard time controlling him. He tried to placate Equs, patting him on the head and whispering words of reassurance in his ears. He needed Equs to respond to his handling smoothly. A split second of indecision on the inexperienced horse¡¯s part and they could come crashing down in a pile of horses and humans. A horn rang out, it¡¯s blazing roar drowning out the crowd in a brief reprieve of monotonicity. Twelve metal gates, each holding back a stallion, sprang open from their locks. Twelve horses, proud and beautiful, surged forth. Muscles rippling under their skin, they galloped like masters of the wind. A midnight black stallion among them, placed towards the outer part of the track was steering off course, much to everyone¡¯s bewilderment. The loud horn had startled Equs. He reared back, before surging forth along with the other horses. He was however, not focussed onto the track. He fought against Arran¡¯s control, trying to free himself from the harness and slowly veering off course. Arran tried his best to calm him while at the same time fighting back against the horse, holding onto the reins no matter how Equs buckled under him. The horse gradually calmed down, steering back onto the inner-track without breaking it¡¯s gallop. Arran was trailing the pack by at least a hundred yards. There would be no way he could perform well in this race. It wasn¡¯t his fault. The stallion was too inexperienced, but Lord Egon wouldn''t look at it that way. Was his fate doomed? Would he be cast aside because of this race, left to scrub toilets and muck the stables? If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. He had to calm down. He would worry about the consequences after the race. He focussed, trying to still his senses, trying to feel Equs. He had to be in perfect sync with Equs for it to trust his decisions. ¡°You can tell a lot about a man by how he rides¡± Symas had frequently told them. Arran rode from reflex rather than concentration. Though he initially stumbled, he was the quickest to get the hang of it. His control of the horse in motion was as natural as his control of his legs in walking. As horses thundered all around him, he read the flow with a mix of skill and intuition. Several times, he would slow down his steed before there was an obvious need, and avoided the hard braking that other, less instinctive riders were forced to make. Sometimes he urged the horse into an invisible gap that opened magically, just when a collision seemed imminent. Equs relaxed visibly as it started trusting Arran¡¯s judgment. It was a sight to behold as it, as Equs galloped like the wind. He was all power, he was all beauty. The rider and his steed were one. Arran, hunched over Equs¡¯s mane used his legs in perfect sync to the horses stride. They were seamless, his feet where they locked into the saddle looked like they flowed from the horse itself. They were like a single being. They were the wind. The distance lessened, Equs was running down the other horses now, weaving between the other steeds under Arran¡¯s skilful manoeuvres. They were finally at the last 100 yard. Equs was finally showing signs of tiring out because of it¡¯s earlier gallop. Arran could feel the horse¡¯s fatigue. He knew that Equs had given it it¡¯s all. It had performed well. Arran was proud of the horse. He knew that the horse was destined for greatness. They were in the fourth position now. It wasn¡¯t good enough. He needed to at least place second for Lord Egon to give him another chance. He wanted to do this again, he wanted to feel the horse under him again. It was exhilarating, this power. He felt powerful, truly, for the first time in his life. There was something inexplicable, something magical. He couldn''t explain it, nor could he put a finger on it. It just felt right somehow. Equs felt right. He felt that he had found some missing part in his life. He just couldn¡¯t explain how he knew it. He would not give up now, he would pour his life into Equs if it would give him strength. He wanted to feel this power once more. He felt tired then, like he had been running for miles without a break. His mind growing hazy even as Equs put on a new burst of speed, surprising everyone present. It galloped faster than before, for a tenth of a second. It was all it needed to gallop ahead of the pack, crossing the finish line first. The stallion that had placed second was trailing Equs by a good two lengths. Arran held onto Equs as it slowed down, clinging onto it¡¯s mane with what meagre strength he had. He felt so tired. He looked up to see Ermic running towards him with a smile on his face. He held on until Ermic reached him before collapsing into his arms. He had no strength to lead Equs back. He knew that Ermic would take care of it.
Hi there, I did not want to bore you guys with two or three chapters of training. Hope you enjoy the action. And for those of you that did not get it, this chapter has slight foreshadowing about the fantasy setting of the story. Feel free to post any thoughts you have. Thanks PS: It would be a great help if you take five minutes of your time to review the work so I know where I can improve. If a review turns to be too much of a hassle, I would be grateful if you could post the suggestions on this thread. PPS: Your comments also would serve as great motivation :) 9. Biding my time Arran¡¯s station in Lord Egon¡¯s estates gradually improved as he succeeded in winning race after race. By extension, Ermic¡¯s life also greatly improved. Being a successful rider earned Arran many perks. The food he was given drastically changed, upgrading from just simple gruel to freshly cooked meat. He was also separated from the batches of slaves, Symas himself supervising the training of Arran and two other successful riders. Arran was, at first, greatly saddened at the prospect of leaving Ermic behind with the rest of the slaves. His sorrow did not last long as each of the riders was allowed to select one groom to help take care of their horse. He chose Ermic without a shred of hesitation. He knew that Ermic would help him as best as he could. They both had something to gain from being a good team. Ermic was greatly relieved that Arran was the same old him. He was initially worried that this improvement in Arran¡¯s treatment would get to his head. He was greatly relieved that he couldn''t be further from the truth. Though the groom would be technically a subordinate for the rider, Arran and Ermic showed the kinship of brothers. Arran would never lord it over Ermic though both of them knew that he had every power to do so. Ermic was grateful for this and he showed it by making sure that Arran was perfectly prepared for every race. He would check Arran¡¯s equipment rigorously to spot any flaws that could possibly affect Arran¡¯s performance. He also tried to look after Arran¡¯s horse, the steed that Arran had ridden during the first race. Equs, on the other hand, had different ideas. He would not let anyone except Arran handle him. Symas and the other instructors speculated that Equs had not been properly broken. They wanted Arran to ride other horses, ones that had proven themselves over and over. Arran was reluctant to ride any other horse except Equs, but had to give in eventually, if only to placate Symas and Lord Egon. He mounted a white thoroughbred, Egon¡¯s might, for his next race. Egon¡¯s might was one of Lord Egon¡¯s best horses. It had been racing in the big leagues since even before Arran had arrived at Lord Egon¡¯s estates. Egon¡¯s might responded to Arran¡¯s every command, moved to his slightest touch. It had a grace that Equs sorely lacked, It had a fluidity that Arran knew Equs could never possess. But it didn''t feel right. Sure, he had easily won the races while riding Egon¡¯s might, but it just didn''t feel right. He missed Equs¡¯s temperament, he missed it¡¯s wildness. He knew, after he had ridden Egon¡¯s might, that Equs had never truly been broken, that it was not just mere speculation. It was still wild in it¡¯s heart, like Arran himself. Slavery had not broken him. He had not completely resigned himself to being a slave, he knew that he was destined for better things, for greater things. He did not know how he knew this, but he could feel it. Every time he rode Equs, he could feel it deep within his heart. Every time he looked into Equs¡¯s eyes, they looked back at him intelligently, as if understanding his pain. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°We are brothers, in our circumstances, in our hearts, we are brothers¡± they seemed to convey. Arran refused to ride any other horse after his race on Egon¡¯s might. Symas and Lord Egon had been furious, how dare a mere slave rebel against his master¡¯s wishes! But they couldn''t do anything, not yet. He was too valuable a rider to act against. He could earn them a lot of wealth. So they acquiesced, waiting for him to lose a race so that they could force him to ride Egon¡¯s might. To their ever growing dismay, and bewilderment, he never lost on Equs. They rode like the wind, thundering down the track, leaving the competition in their dust. They seemed like a single being, as Equs galloped down the track, no, as they galloped down the track. They were one and no one who saw them ride could deny this. Though Arran proved himself more than capable, his non-existent wages remained just that, non-existent. Ermic had been able to obtain a few copper during the earlier days of Arran¡¯s riding career, when the odds had been stacked against him. They invested their meagre wealth betting on Arran. One copper became ten. Ten became eighty. Eighty became Four hundred and eighty. The earnings of each race would then be buried sneakily near the track, only to be dug and used for the next race. As Arran continued to win his races without breaking a sweat, the odds against him decreased. This in turn resulted in them earning lesser for each progressive race, before finally becoming non-existent. Arran planned to lose a few races to raise the odds against him, but decided to abandon it because it would only give Lord Egon an excuse to make him ride Egon¡¯s might. With no foreseeable way out of their predicament, Arran did the only thing he could. He raced, becoming one with Equs, while biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to change his destiny. Little did he know that his life would turn upside down soon. 10. Isan Arran mounted Equs, nudging it towards the starting gate. He no longer required Ermic¡¯s help to guide Equs to the starting line. Equs, who had become a lot more trusting of Arran, complied to his urgings without resistance. He had also become a lot calmer now. He showed grace and presence where once he would have been nervous and jittery around the other horses. He would calmly gaze upon the other horses, as if assessing them. His eyes contained an intelligence that differentiated him from the other horses. It was a big race. The prize money was huge, but the prestige gained was of much bigger importance to the nobles. There were many nobles who had come to Cyrium from other cities to either participate in, or witness this race. The horses to either side of him were some of the finest steeds in the Ororian empire. Lord Egon, never one to take risks, had enrolled another horse in the race along with Equs. It was Egon¡¯s might. Arran knew it¡¯s prowess, but he wasn''t worried. Equs, as if following Arran¡¯s gaze, sized up Egon¡¯s might before snorting in a surprisingly accurate imitation of a human. Arran smiled, ¡°Good boy, Good boy. Lets win this, shall we?¡± he asked rhetorically while patting Equs. Equs neighed, as if showing his pleasure at being patted. The race had been easier than they had expected. Egon¡¯s might and a few other horses proved to be tough opponents, but even they had to bow down to Equs¡¯s might. As Arran led Equs towards the stables provided by the track for the riders, Lord Egon approached him, his procession of servants and lackeys in tow. This was new. Lord Egon generally never came to the races, preferring to place his bets and leaving it up to his servants to collect the prize money as well as the betting winnings. ¡°Arran, That was a surprisingly easy win. I believe I must acknowledge Equs¡¯s might for once, seeing how it galloped like the wind¡± he complimented, in a rare display of cheer. His euphoria of winning the race and gaining a huge boost in prestige, likely playing a major role in breaking down his mask of scorn and arrogance. There was a woman beside him, dressed in flowing robes of red and gold, she walked elegantly beside Egon. Her face was covered in a translucent veil, preventing Arran from discerning more than just the shape of her face. There had been rumours recently, that Lord Egon had taken a new concubine. His uncharacteristic visit to the races as well as this mysterious lady only led Arran to believe the rumours. Arran took care not to stare at either Lord Egon or the lady beside him, immediately bowing his head and kneeling down, as every slave was required to, in the presence of a noble. ¡°Will Equs let us touch him?¡± Egon questioned. ¡°No, my lord. He has not let anyone else in the stables handle him, only my groom, Ermic, was partially successful¡± Arran responded, training his eyes towards the ground. The filth wanted to pet Equs! as if he was just any other horse. Equs was far from it. Arran treated Equs like he would treat Ermic, like he would treat any other human. ¡°Doesn¡¯t it listen to you?¡± Egon asked scornfully, ¡°calm it down while my daughter pets it,¡± he said ¡°she has taken a liking to it.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. His daughter? Arran was shocked. The gossip mongering slaves had assumed it was a concubine since she looked young and beautiful. If word got out about what rumours they had been spreading, Egon would surely whip them, or worse, put them to death. ¡°I shall try, my lord. But I would advise the lady that it could be dangerous, possibly fatal¡± Arran said carefully, trying not to sound like he was refusing Egon¡¯s orders. ¡°Do you think I am a child, slave?¡± a domineering voice questioned him. It was Egon¡¯s daughter. ¡°I shall decide for myself if it is dangerous or not.¡± ¡°As you wish, my lady¡± Arran responded carefully, a hint of fear creeping into his voice. He did not wish to antagonise Egon¡¯s daughter. ¡°Be careful Isan¡± Egon warned before stepping back. Lady Isan then strode forward slowly, deliberately; so that Equs would not be startled. Arran looked on with apprehension, expecting Equs to chomp down on Lady Isan¡¯s outstretched hand. Equs looked at the approaching Isan, bewildered at what she was trying to do. He looked like he couldn''t decide how to react. He reared back suddenly, deciding that a show of aggression would deter the human trying to approach him. Isan stopped then, her posture showing hints of doubt. Equs tried to back off and proceed towards the stables, but Arran was holding him; whispering words of comfort in his ear and patting his neck. Equs relaxed slightly, but not enough to let his guard down completely. Isan hesitated for a second, seemingly unable to decide what to do next. She removed her veil then, looking Equs straight in the eyes. She approached Equs again. Arran was mesmerised, he had not seen a woman more beautiful than Isan. She could be no older than fifteen summers, yet she possessed the elegance and maturity of someone far beyond her age. Her face, pale skinned and lovely; her full lips, painted a dark red; she looked beautiful. He was at a loss, how could someone so beautiful exist? Her eyes however, were what captured his attention the most. They seemed to look into your very soul. They were captivating, her forest green irises, a perfect contrast to her auburn locks. She looked at Equs, trying to convey that she meant well, that she only wanted to befriend the horse. Even Arran could feel her sincerity and will. She was the only other being apart from Equs who could talk with her eyes, convey the depth of her feelings with just a look. He was instantly smitten¡­.He knew he was doomed.
I tried using the semicolon in this chapter, as suggested in the previous chapter. Let me know what you think of it, and if there is any other aspect I can improve. Thanks 11. Windows to the Soul There is no love like the first. Do you ever truly forget your first love? There is seldom something more powerful than first love. Is it because it happens when our hearts are still innocent and pure ¡ª before that inevitable heartbreak? Or is it because once that huge flame dies out, a few embers remain to keep the memory aglow? ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª- Days pass silently, uncaring of the ache in his heart. He knew there could be no salvation. She was unreachable, locked away safely behind doors of wealth, power and class. He was a slave. He had nothing apart from memories of warmer times, of times when he had a home he could call his own; Of times he could say he owned himself. Isan, accompanied by guards, continued to attend his races. He knew she was there only for Equs, to see him in all his glory. But he liked to believe that she was there for him too¡­ He knew he was only deluding himself, but it didn''t matter. He wanted to hold onto it. He wanted to feel loved, it had been a long time since he had felt it. Isan would come to Equs after each race, trying to pet him, and Equs would reject her unless she removed her veil. Her eyes continued to fascinate Arran, those Sea-green orbs of determination and strength, they were pearls amidst a sea of rocks. She had caught him openly staring at her many times. He couldn''t help but tremble when she looked directly at him. He would be the first to avert his eyes then, fearful of angering her. More importantly, his inexperienced heart, thumping away in his chest, did not know how else to react to that piercing gaze. Equs had gotten more accustomed to her as the days progressed. Isan also started setting her veil aside whenever she visited Equs at the races. This did nothing to help Arran¡¯s heartache. It would burst forth with renewed vigour every time he saw her around the estates or at the racecourse. Arran loved spending his time with Equs. Stretched down on the hay in Equs¡¯s stall, his back resting against Equs, a book propped up in his lap, he couldn''t have asked for much more. Arran rested there, his face content, blissful in this moment of peace. He was enjoying his moment of peace, like he generally would when he was interrupted one day. It was Isan, accompanied by her usual escort. This was a first. She had never come to the stables before, maybe because she hadn''t been confident enough about being around Equs. Equs shifted slightly, trying to reach her without moving from his position. Isan smiled at the horse¡¯s laziness before moving into the stall, petting him while he nudged her affectionately. Arran got up, trying his best to not stare at her. ¡°I didn''t know slaves could read¡± she commented drily, noticing the book Arran had dropped to the ground in his haste. The comment bridled him. ¡°We were humans once my lady, with our own pasts, even if your nobleness refuses to acknowledge it¡± he retorted sarcastically. ¡°Know your place slave!¡± Isan¡¯s escort roared, not missing the sarcasm in Arran¡¯s voice. Isan quickly raised a hand, halting the brute. ¡°Pay no mind¡± she said, addressing him ¡°besides, don''t you think I can handle myself?¡± she added, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. ¡°Yes, my lady¡± the brute responded, still glaring at Arran. ¡°You are dismissed, go rest or do whatever you guards do. You earned it¡± Isan told the guard. He looked like he would argue back but looking at her expression, he acquiesced. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°I am sorry my lady¡± Arran apologised, trying to minimise the damage. Isan dismissed it with an offhand gesture, moving towards Equs absentmindedly, nestling her head against his and rubbing his neck. The sight captivated Arran once again, his heart jumping around wildly at the beautiful sight. Isan looked at him then, her gaze encompassing him, challenging him. He would not back down now, he had done it enough times. He would not give in to his heart¡¯s cowardice. He stared back at her, meeting her gaze with his own. She smirked then, snorting slightly in a very unladylike manner before turning back to Equs. ¡°He is beautiful, as always¡± she said, rubbing Equs¡¯s neck. ¡°There is something different about him,¡± she continued absentmindedly, ¡°I don''t understand what drives me to him¡­¡± ¡°The eyes¡± Arran ventured, understanding what she was getting at. He knew exactly how she felt. Isan looked at Arran, raising an eyebrow in interest, before turning back towards Equs. She looked him in the eyes then, deliberately, trying to grasp their meaning. A look of shock crossed her pale face, her composure breaking momentarily as she covered her mouth in surprise. ¡°Eyes truly are the windows into the soul¡± she exclaimed. She moved back then, away from Equs, before turning towards Arran. She was surprised at Arran¡¯s insight. It was wise, something you would not expect from a slave, someone who was treated as the bottom rung of society. She took him in completely for the first time then, his tall and lanky build, his rough homespun clothes failing to hide the strength within, honed through months of hellish training. His eyes! she had dismissed him hundreds of times before, without even glancing at him. But his eyes! their inky black irises burning with a fire so deep, not willing to give up. She was unsettled once again, looking into them. Twice in the same day, she had been unsettled, her usual mask of composure and confidence cracking slightly. Once, when she gazed upon Equs, once, when she looked at Arran¡¯s eyes. ¡°Eyes truly are the windows into the soul¡± she repeated softly. ¡°What is your name?¡± she asked, a question more than a command. ¡°Arran, my lady¡± Arran responded, refusing to break eye contact. ¡°Arran..¡± she mumbled softly, before turning back and exiting the stall. She paused then, ¡°Be well Arran¡± she wished, before leaving the stables. She had seen him for the first time, truly seen him. As someone more than a slave, as a human. All her life, she had been taught the importance of class, of social hierarchy. Slaves had always been treated like livestock. But this encounter with the slave named Arran had unsettled her. She could not see him as a mere slave after she had seen those eyes, she could not see him as anything less than human after that encounter.
I haven''t written about Arran''s daily life as a slave, how he and Ermic make do with what they have, how they use their cunning to get what they want, like Arran''s books etc. This was because I wanted to progress the story. I would go into them in more detail when I redraft the chapters. I would also go into more detail about their training. Equs''s and Arran''s companionship would also be properly detailed, the gradual strengthening of their bond, shown rather than just plainly stated. As always, point out any mistakes I might have missed. Thank You. PS: please do rate and comment. :) 12. Clever, arent we? Arran didn''t know what to feel about this strange encounter with Isan. She had left after wishing him. His mind didn''t know what to make of it, but his heart was strangely elated. He knew, somehow, that it had been a nice turn of events. He looked at Equs, only to find the horse looking back at him. Arran smiled, from the bottom of his heart. It had been a long time since he had grinned like this, from ear to ear. ¡°You worked a miracle Equs, you wonderful beast¡± Arran exclaimed, alive and euphoric. He put an arm around Equs¡¯s neck and leaned against him, looking up at the roof. He didn''t feel like going back to his book, he knew he wouldn''t be able to concentrate, not while his blood was boiling with so much excitement and anticipation. ¡°Let¡¯s ride boy¡± he said, not knowing what else to do. A few days passed. Arran¡¯s initial euphoria had died down, a content and happy spring in his step replacing it. In retrospect, he did not even know why he had been so worked up. It was not like Isan confessed that she liked him. There was nothing to indicate anything at all. She had just asked his name. That was all. Though that little tidbit didn''t feel like it was a big deal, Arran knew that something changed. She had come to see Equs tens of times before that incident but she had never even cast a glance at Arran. What had caused her to suddenly enquire after his name? It didn''t matter wether or not it was a big deal. It didn''t matter if it had a consequence or not. He was just content. The fact that she had spoken to him was enough to elate him. Arran slunk back into his life; training, riding and reading; all the while hoping for another glance of Isan. The Egon household had hundreds of slaves, he was one amongst them. A special and valuable one no doubt, but still one of them. Who would put in the effort to remember his name? He seriously doubted that Isan would still remember his name. If he had a hundred sheep, he would not even try and name any of them. That was what the slaves were to the nobles, livestock. He was sprawled in Equs¡¯s stall as usual, leaning against the massive horse, a book perched in his lap. He had read it tens of times. He would have loved the chance to get his hands on new books but that was a distant dream. The few books he possessed had to be obtained painstakingly, they had to be bought and paid for with tooth and nail. It was then that he heard someone entering the stall. It was Isan and her escort. She dismissed the escort, waving at him to leave them. ¡°Hello Arran¡± she greeted him. She remembered his name! ¡°I am honoured that you remember my name, my lady¡± Arran responded before getting up and bowing slightly. ¡°Why wouldn''t I?¡± she asked, her question rhetorical; her expression, on the other hand, seemed curious. What was he supposed to reply? That he hadn''t expected a noble to remember a slave¡¯s name? That he thought the nobles were arrogant pricks? Seeing that she wouldn''t be getting an answer from him, she let the matter drop and turned to Equs. ¡°How have you been?¡± she questioned. Equs nuzzled her arm, as if asking her to pat it. Isan complied, smiling at how accustomed the horse had gotten to her presence. ¡°He is well, my lady¡± Arran said, after a while; if only to break the awkward silence hanging in the air as Isan continued patting and rubbing Equs¡¯s neck. ¡°That was rhetorical, you know¡± she replied, an eyebrow raised in amusement. ¡°Arran, the scholar¡­¡± she added mockingly. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. He would have felt affronted if not for the faint smile playing on her lips. The tips of his ears turned red in embarrassment, as he hung his head, so that she could not see his reddening face. ¡°Do not be so embarrassed, the question was aimed at the both of you¡± she said softly, walking towards Equs¡¯s left flank, so that he was between Arran and Isan. ¡°I have been well, my lady. A little bored is all.¡± Arran replied, hoping to salvage the situation, acting as if he hadn''t been embarrassed just moments before. Isan continued walking along Equs¡¯s flank, her hands trailing his taut skin. ¡°How soon do you think will Equs let me ride him?¡± she asked nonchalantly, rounding behind Equs to appear on his right side. Arran¡¯s heart thumped. Although she was towards Equs¡¯s rear, she was still walking towards Equs¡¯s front, towards Arran. She continued trailing her hands on Equs absentmindedly as she strode forward. ¡°Well?¡± she prompted, seeing that Arran wasn''t responding. ¡°I would suggest a few more weeks, my lady.¡± Arran was about to do something really foolish. They say love makes fools out of wise men and cowards out of courageous ones. Love is dangerous, specially to a slave. A slave needed to know his station; he needed to know his place. He knew he was making a mistake, but he couldn''t bring himself to care. He just hoped that he wouldn''t regret it later. He was not an outright fool though. He knew he should be subtle, so he went with something ambiguous, something that couldn''t be inferred as an outright advance. ¡°It would help a great deal if you visited him in the stall frequently¡± Arran added. Isan stopped, staring at Arran. ¡°Help whom, Arran, You or him?¡± she quirked an eyebrow, waiting to see how he would respond. ¡°Him of course, my lady, whatever do you mean by that?¡± Arran replied, in mock servility. ¡°He would trust you more, my lady. It would ease his transition in to letting someone other than me riding him.¡± Arran added sheepishly. She snorted at that, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her full lips. ¡°Clever, aren''t we?¡± she observed, moving back towards the stall¡¯s entrance. ¡°and courageous too,¡± she said, smiling back at him. ¡°I will see what I can do about your boredom¡± she added one final time before leaving the stall. Arran was shaking now, adrenalin coursing thorough his veins. What the hell was he doing, flirting with a noble. What would have happened if she had been affronted? He was ecstatic at how she had responded. She hadn''t taken offence. She had responded with that mischievous smile of hers. Isan left the stables feeling amused. Was Arran trying to flirt there? She had to give it to him though. He had not implicated himself, yet managed to convey his intention subtly. He was clever¡­Though she knew that this could go nowhere, she couldn''t help but decide to go back there again. She liked the banter. She liked embarrassing him. She liked to see him struggle, not understanding how to respond. The moment she had started seeing him as more than a slave, as a human, she felt a distinct change in the way she perceived him. She started treating him as a person, one whose company was quite pleasurable and amusing.
It would be a great help and source of motivation for me if you rate, review or comment. Basically, any combination of them. :) As usual, kindly do point out any mistakes I have missed out. Any thoughts and suggestions you have about the chapter or the fiction in general would be greatly welcomed and appreciated. Thank You 13. Daydreams Isan¡¯s visits to Equs¡¯s stall gradually increased. She visited the stables almost every afternoon. She had also started frequenting the races, cheering as much for Arran as for Equs. It had slowly grown blurry, the line that she had initially drawn against a slave like him. She herself did not know where to identify that divide between a slave and his master; She had instead started treating Arran like she would treat a friend, she had started treating him as more than just a friend. Though she did not know it herself. Arran was not the only male that sought Isan¡¯s attention. There were countless others. Nobles. Merchants. Warriors. All, men of great station and wealth, worthy in their own right. But none made her feel as free as she felt when she was with Arran. Society wears a mask. It requires you to wear one. You are never truly yourself. Everyone behaves the way they are expected to. Wealth and Power are something the society recognises, they are what society identifies you with. Doors, some you never knew even existed, would open if you were rich and powerful. You want to get something done? All you need is wealth and power. There was no limit to this madness. There is no limit to this madness. As long as you are a part of the society, you are part of the madness. It only keeps growing, like a strangling creeper that slowly occludes the very scaffolding it had used to grow and slither onward, this madness brainwashes mankind..slowly suffocating it and warping it into a shadow of what it once was. What you think is free will is only the society¡¯s impression on you. This is because you grow in a society that tells you that this is good and that is bad. What defines you, your very morality, is not your own. Isan was part of the system. She had never realised how the society treated the lower classes as something less than human. She had never realised how everyone seemed to be in the grips something larger, much larger and vicious than she could imagine. All of that changed when she had met Arran. It was as if she had opened her eyes for the first time since her birth. She saw, for the first time, all those people, the farmers, the beggars, the slaves, the sewage workers¡­ milling about the city, with their own worries and joys, with their own lives¡­.lives that were as real as her own. It had changed her deeply, and she came to appreciate Arran all the more for it. Isan kept a steady stream of books flowing to Arran. She had not realised what a voracious reader he was. She had assumed that he was just the casual reader, that he had just begun to learn the basics of the educated elite. She couldn''t be further from the truth. Books were rare, especially for a slave. It had been a very long time since Arran had managed to get his hands on so many books. His mother had always encouraged his love for books¡­those memories felt so old now, their edges blurring..fading and crumbling into the sands of time. She had been engaged to the son of Cyrium¡¯s wealthiest man. Lord Tusian was far wealthier than Egon. Tusian¡¯s family was deeply rooted with Cyrium, claiming to have it¡¯s roots in Cyrium as far back as the original Ororian Empire. Tusian controlled a majority of the trade in Cyrium while Egon trailed behind him at a close second. Egon¡¯s business acumen more than made up for his own relatively adolescent lineage. But it was truly impossible to simply overcome the hoards of wealth Tusian¡¯s family had amassed over the centuries. His third son, Lord Erdoch had taken a liking to Isan and Tusian had been quick to use this opportunity to unite the two families and bring the trade of Cyrium under a single banner. Lord Egon was more than happy to agree. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Isan knew that Egon never had truly cared about her. She had only been another piece on the chessboard for him to use. And he did use her. He had simply cast her wishes aside and accepted Tusian¡¯s proposal to have Isan married to Erdoch, knowing fully well Erdoch¡¯s already infamous whoring and perversion. Erdoch was a man who knew he could get away with almost anything inside Cyrium¡¯s impressive walls. And he made full use of this fact. There had been many women who had succumbed to their wounds during bouts of his extreme perversion. Egon had essentially condemned Isan¡¯s life to death at best and who knew what at worst. Isan knew this. She knew that there was nothing in her life to look forward to. She had resigned herself to her fate, or she thought she did, until she met Arran. He had shown her how to be truly free. And she loved every part of it. She wanted to live, she wanted to ride¡­.free of all worries¡­free of Egon, Tusian, Erdoch and all the other nobles who called themselves human. She wanted to live. Yet she had no one to show her how to do it¡­.until now. Isan did not want to worry Arran with her own worries..even if she did confide in him, he would not be able to help her except may be provide the comfort of his company. She already had his company, in fact, she demanded it her every waking moment. She had decided to enjoy what little time she had left. There is freedom in resigning yourself to death, a wildness that creeps in slowly but surely and sets its roots deep within your soul. She had nothing to lose. She had nothing more Egon could take away from her. She had wanted to commit suicide and be rid of this prison that was her life. She had even tried once¡­only to realise that she loved life, what little she could have of it, very dearly. She had decided then, she would be free until her fated marriage with Erdoch¡­and then she would take that final step. She would live till then¡­.she would love life till then¡­ She was in the stables, lying down on the hay while Arran checked on Equs¡¯s riding tack. The bratty horse was resting beside Isan, chewing on some of the hay, trying to pull part of it from under Isan¡¯s plump bottom. She had asked Arran one of the two questions that had been bothering her since she had met him. ¡°What is your idea of happiness?¡± He had then looked straight at her then, his midnight black eyes boring into hers. She liked how he looked at her, the intensity of his gaze unmatched by any other she knew. She liked his earnestness. She realised then, that she liked him¡­nay, loved him. Whatever his feelings for her maybe, his answer would resonate with her very being till the day she would take the final leap. ¡°Happiness is for others. I demand Euphoria¡±. 14. Reality Arran was happy, truly happy, for the first time in a long while. He knew that he was getting closer to Isan. He felt that it was only a matter of time before Isan would develop feelings for him, if she hadn''t already. ¡°Every woman will definitely fall for a man, no matter who he is, if she was approached the right way¡± Ermic had joked once, nudging Arran in the ribs playfully. ¡°Yeah, right.¡± Arran had shrugged it off then. But he did have to accept that there was some truth to Ermic¡¯s dodgy philosophy. Isan¡¯s frequent visits to the stables did not go unnoticed. The other slaves had long started pestering him with questions about Isan. Some of them wanted to know more about Isan, others wanted to know why she spent so much time in his stall. ¡°It is not my stall, It is Equs¡¯s. There is a difference. She is here for him.¡± He had replied hotly then, regretting it immediately. They would surely take his testiness as a sign that he was hiding something. Ermic on the other hand, was enjoying being the centre of attention. He became something of a celebrity among the slaves. Arran¡¯s cold and aloof personality only helped showcase Ermic¡¯s outgoing boisterousness. Everyone just assumed that Ermic would definitely be privy to Arran¡¯s personal matters. They were right. But they had greatly misjudged him if they had thought that Ermic would divulge any of Arran¡¯s personal affairs. The whole affair just seemed to bring drama and amusement to an otherwise dull life of the slaves. They jumped at this opportunity, trying to make the best out of it; all at Arran¡¯s expense. Some of the bolder slaves even offered him their unconditional support, in case he ever wanted to elope with Isan. They were awed and delighted, that one of their own had been able to gain the attention of a noble lady. There were others too, jealous and petty, who only saw Arran as being opportunistic; that he was just trying to get out of his slavery by seducing a noble. They could only watch grudgingly as Arran continued to receive Isan¡¯s attentions. Though Arran was quick to publicly deny any romantic involvement between the two of them, he himself suspected that Isan liked him. He loved her. He had daydreamed often that they would elope, riding Equs into the horizon. He knew, that the only chance they had at being together was to elope. But he quickly discarded that train of thought, why would a noble like Isan give up all the wealth she had and trade it up for a life on the run? Surely, he was not worth so much? If only he knew how she felt about him¡­. If only he knew what fate had in store for them¡­. Lord Egon had come barging into the stables one day, escorted by dozens of guardsmen. Arran quickly kneeled , his head hung low, as was the custom of the slaves. ¡°You filth. You are a slave¡­an ant underneath my shoe. How do you fucking dare dally around with a noble?¡± Lord Egon went straight to the point. Arran didn''t know how to respond. He couldn''t afford to anger Egon, It would only take a word from Egon to end Arran¡¯s life. Arran might have been more apathetic to his situation and rebelled against such accusations and oppression if he hadn''t found Isan. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Not now, not when he had found happiness again. He had nothing to gain and the world to lose by angering Egon now. ¡°I would never dare do such a thing milord.¡± He had to reply meekly, subserviently¡­his freedom and will chained by vile slavery. He hated it. ¡°Fucking nonsense, Do not over estimate your worth as a rider¡­..do not think, do not dream, for a single moment that I will not get rid of you.¡± ¡°Yes, milord.¡± Though Arran knew he was quite valuable to Egon, he did not doubt for a single moment that Egon would dispose him without a second thought if the need ever arose. Arran was Egon¡¯s property, according to this warped society. Egon had paid a few gold to the slavers and that gave him the right to own a human? Who gave the nobles to dictate the hopes, dreams, the life of another human? Society did not care a single bit about the lowest rung of the ladder. People like him suffered everywhere. They were treated like dirt. They were the vast majority, yet they were so powerless; wealth was everything in this world, in every world. What was the lesser evil? Forever distancing yourself from the one you so dearly love, knowing that you would always love her; even if you could not be together? Or every bone broken, discarded, the life bleeding from you, slowly trickling into this cursed earth that had been nothing but cruel to you? How could one decide between the two of these? Arran knew the value of love, he believed that it was the most valuable thing in the world. Only someone who had needed it, yet lacked it would know it¡¯s value, it¡¯s warmth, and bliss. Arran knew this. Where would one draw the line between emotional and physical pain? When would you trade one for the other? When would you say one is greater than the other? Arran did not know. He toiled about with this internal struggle for a couple of days before deciding on a course of action. He had always been a realist. He had always prided himself on being prudent. He felt that prudence was what would let you survive in this world. There was nothing else that he could do. He had to ask Isan to stop visiting him. He hated the world. He hated himself. If only he had the power, he would burn the whole world down, destroy it¡¯s roots and build one anew¡­one where he could be happy. One where love was worth more than pieces of shiny metal.
Please do give feedback. Thank You. PS: For those of you waiting for action and badassery, we are nearly there. Hold your horses for a few more chapters and then we can bathe in blood together. :) 15. Bliss It was not long before Isan visited Arran once again. Arran, who is usually enthusiastic about her visits, sits sullenly on the ground; steeling his resolve. ¡°Hello Arran¡­¡± she prompts, testing the waters, unsure about his sullen mood. He looks up at her, indecision written clearly across his face. He had thought that he knew what to do. He had thought that he could carry it out. All the conviction he had mustered over the days flew straight out the window the moment he laid eyes upon Isan¡¯s gentle face. The way her slender eyebrows drooped, the way her eyes expressed immense worry¡­he couldn''t bring himself to part with such affable innocence. He was surprised, he couldn''t part with such gentleness.. no matter how out of place the feeling was, he could not deny her endearing smile and her gentle beauty. He could not bring himself to never witness them again. ¡°Nothing, come, what brings your lordly self here?¡± he enquired with a smile, casting away all other thoughts. ¡°What is it Arran?¡± she enquired, not letting his sudden change of mood fool her. She knew him well enough to know that he was still troubled, his facade of bravado hiding whatever unsettling thoughts he had been thinking. Uncertainty crossed Arran¡¯s face once again, his midnight black eyes filled with regret and hints of anger..was he angry at her? Isan thought. She did not want him to be angry at her. Unbeknownst to her, he had become the sole anchor in her otherwise uncertain life; he had become the torch that guided her stumbling self across the swampy mires of life. The very thought that she might have done something wrong frightened her. Isan was on the verge of tears. ¡°Do you like me Isan?¡± It was the first time that Arran had not used ¡°Lady¡± while addressing her. No matter how close they had grown over the last few months, no matter how often they had joked together, he had always addressed her with a title. Even during those rare moments when he would make jokes at her expense, he would never forget their difference in station. He would never let her forget the difference in their station. Even during those fleetingly blissful moments that she had forgotten that he was a slave and she, his master, those words had always jerked her back into the harsh reality of life. She knew immediately that this seeming lapse of etiquette was anything but unintentional. Then there was the question itself¡­It was similar to the one question that had been gnawing at her conscience increasingly these past few months. Did he like her? She had always meant to ask him this. She had resolved herself to do it during countless other visits; only to give in to that nagging dread and fear that she would only meet with rejection. Isan knew the answer to Arran¡¯s question right away. She only hesitated because she didn''t know where he was leading with this question. She didn''t know how he would react to his answer. She didn''t want her relationship with him to deteriorate. She would be ecstatic if her assent would improve their relationship but not she balked at the slight possibility that everything could go downhill. Nevertheless, she could not lie to him, not to the person she held dearest. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Yes. I do.¡± There were a million questions she wanted to ask him. Why did he ask her this so suddenly? How was this linked to him being distraught earlier? Did she do something wrong? She, however, chose to ask the one question that had been eating away at her conscience. ¡°Do you like me Arran?¡± His gaze had never left hers, boring straight into her soul. She felt like he saw not just her¡­but everything about her. The moment she had revealed that she did indeed like him, the uncertainty returned into his eyes; along with one other emotion she saw him display rarely¡­.happiness. She knew right then, that he was happy that she liked him; but there was also something else she did not understand. ¡°I love you Isan.¡± Arran had responded then, without a shred of doubt. It was not a revelation, it was not the statement of a mortal. It was a law of the world, inviolable¡­unsurmountable. He had spoken it with such conviction, such belief, that she felt herself go weak in the knees. It was the first time that she felt something like this. Everything felt right. The world fell into place around her. It looked right for the first time in a long, lonely while. They say that believe in something strongly enough and the universe conspires to make it happen. This moment felt like one, like it had been destined by the universe. She knew that she had wanted this desperately. She had dreamed of this on dreary nights that threatened to feed her despair and consume her in a blaze of sorrow. She had dreamed of this bliss since she had asked Arran what happiness meant to him. This was euphoria. She knew now what he meant. It had only been a statement that conveyed Arran¡¯s sorrow and conviction. It had only been a sombre painting of his soul. She had not understood it¡¯s meaning. Until now. She also knew, at that moment, that he had also craved this moment¡­that he had wished this to reality. She leaned in towards Arran, guided by a will higher than hers, guided by a hand more powerful than any any mortal could ever hope to be. Arran moved too, getting onto his knees from where he sat, his palm caressing Isan¡¯s cheek. It felt like this was destined to happen, that there was no reality whatsoever that this wouldn''t have happened. In all the countless planes of existence, in every single one of them, this was meant to happen¡­he knew this, without a shred of doubt. He knew this with his entire being. His lips met hers then, in a tender kiss. It was gentle, like he was afraid to hurt her. A kiss soft as velvet. A kiss that bards sought to witness under the stars on a moonless night, of a princess and her knight in a glade, reunited after eons of perils, after eons of seeking each other in the stars¡­.a kiss that poets weaved ballads around. They broke apart after what felt an eternity, all thoughts of their surroundings forgotten in a haze of passion and bliss. All thoughts of their differences, social or otherwise, forgotten in this simple union of two beings¡­serene and solemn. ¡°I had always loved you Isan.¡±
Hello there, Please do rate, review or comment. Basically anything that could help me make "Requiem" better. Any feedback whatsoever is greatly appreciated. Thanks. 16. Decisions It does not take long for them to realise that they cannot stay in the city if they were to be together. Egon and the other nobles would never accept this union. Prestige was what Egon cared about the most, even above wealth. There could not possibly be a bigger slight to his reputation than his own daughter courting a slave. They had to elope. All those days dreaming about eloping together made it seem like it was romantic, that it was what lovers in fables did. Now that they had actually decided to do it, the task looked far more daunting than they could have imagined. It was not as simple as riding into the sunset, they had to worry about their various needs on the run. How would they eat? Where would they sleep? various little things that add up to become one behemoth they had to either vanquish or ignore and hope that it too does the same. Then there was Egon. He would not take it lying down. He would definitely send out riders to chase them down. They would be faster than Arran and Isan could be. They would be able to ride freely without worrying about any logistics, they could rest up in the village inns and eat full meals; all of which were luxuries Arran and Isan couldn''t afford. They had no time to spare, they had to make the best of what little time they had and try to get as much of a head start as they could possibly get. Arran knew, that all these thoughts about eloping would only be true if Isan was willing to leave behind all that she had. He, however, knew that she would leave everything behind her without batting a single eyelid. It was written plainly in the set of her jaw, determined. It was written in the line of her eyebrows, scrunched up in deep thought. He hadn''t doubted for a single moment that she would accompany him wherever he went. They had decided to leave Cyrium in three days, after they had procured whatever they could. Arran was left with the task of procuring another horse for Isan. He had already decided to take Equs with him. He couldn''t bear the idea of parting with the horse. They had gone through a lot together, providing each other company day and night. Arran had grown more comfortable around Equs than he was around other humans. He knew that Equs was not just a dumb beast, he felt that Equs could understand Arran a lot better than any other person could. They were kindred spirits, they were both wild and free, at least in their hearts. And they both understood that fact. Obtaining another horse was a simple task for Arran. All he had to do was saddle one up and they were ready to go. He chose a chestnut gelding. It was a calm and gentle beast, usually given out to new riders to accustom themselves to the saddle. He waited with bated breath. He expected Egon and his guards to storm into the stable, their plans of escape somehow reaching the arrogant lord. His worries turned out to be for naught as the days progressed and the moment of truth had finally come. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. They had agreed to meet outside Cyrium¡¯s gates, by the race track. It would not rouse suspicion that Arran would be going there. No one would dare question why Isan was going towards the race course either. No one in their right minds would be expecting that such a seemingly rich and noble lady would leave everything behind and abscond. It was also safer to reach the race course separately so as to not leave any traces that they had left Cyrium together. It was still early morning, the sun had yet to rise. The road was still occupied with merchant caravans seeking to utilise the empty streets to quickly get to their destinations; before the city wakes up, spilling forth its hundreds of thousands of denizens onto the streets. Isan was clad in her usual noble attire. It would attract too much attention if a noble were to ride away from Cyrium without any escort. It was also unheard of that a noble would forgo their ornate carriages and groomed horses. The nobles were never one to forgo their comfort. They were at the exit to the racecourse, facing away from the city. The vast expanse of farmland before them was deserted; the peasants that tended to their farms, sound in sleep. Isan quickly dispelled any worries that Arran had regarding her dress by simple stepping out of it. He had been taken by surprise. She was wearing the simple drab grey attire of the peasants, devoid of any embellishments and baubles. It was plain and common. She would be a fish in the sea amid the throngs of other peasants that occupied the roads as the sun rose. She had brought quite a bit of money and a cloth bundle filled with food. Money was the only thing that she had in excess, the only thing that she had too much of. She hoped that they could buy whatever they would need in one of the many villages that had sprouted all around Cyrium. Arran handed the chestnut gelding to Isan before mounting Equs. Isan had no difficulties with the gelding; being a noble meant that riding was one of the few pastimes they actively pursued. They had set off then, aiming for the nearest village around Cyrium so as to procure what supplies they could before their absence would be noticed.
Hello there! Please do rate, review or comment. It means a loooot!!! Any kind of feedback will be greatly appreciated! :) Thank you and have a good day! 17. A Second Home There is something ethereal about being constantly on the run. You are never safe. You do not have a single moment of peace. The shadow of your pursuers looms over your shoulder, constantly breathing its icy tendrils of hate and fear. You constantly look over your shoulder, wishing, hoping, that you do not find one of your accursed pursuers behind you. The very act of looking behind you becomes a figurative state of mind. It does not matter if you had done it only a few minutes ago, it does not matter if you had done it only a few seconds ago. The urge to look into the horizon behind you never ceases. This paranoia only worsens as the days turn into weeks. Strength of character can only take you so far¡­.you would have to bow down to your fear eventually. Arran and Isan were no exceptions to the fears of their mortal minds. They had been on the run for weeks, trying to maintain as much of a lead as possible over their inevitable pursuers. They had stayed off the worn down roads, preferring to make their way through obscure paths. It had been a long time since they had a proper roof over them and even longer since they had had a hearty meal. They had stopped at the first village they had come across to restock on their supplies and procure any necessary provisions. They had bypassed all of the villages that they had come across after that, preferring to go around them. Egon had long put up a hefty bounty on Arran. His daughter was a necessary part of the plan to ally with Tusian after all. The bounties had described Arran as a thief. They had made it seem like Arran had stolen Equs and the other horse before kidnapping Isan. The very fact that the wanted posters have been put up in the villages indicated that riders had reached the villages before Arran and Isan could. This was likely due to the fact that Arran and Isan actively avoided the roads while Egon¡¯s riders rode light and fast, choosing to resupply their horses at each village rather than rest them. It would be dangerous for Arran or Isan to venture into the village lest someone would identify them from the posters. Arran was right at home on the saddle, the same however, couldn''t be said of Isan. She hadn''t complained once no matter how tough the going became. Arran was accustomed to hardships, his daily life as a slave filled with manual labour and hard riding. It had resulted in a lean and muscled body, capable of taking any abuse dished out to it. Isan on the other hand, lived in luxury and wealth. Being thrown so suddenly into this life of hardships had surely been a great shock for the noble. She did however, take everything in stride. Arran had been initially surprised at her tenacity and will, only to realise that they were what had kept Isan going through her life. They were what had made it possible for the two of them to meet, despite all odds. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. After many days ring hard in the saddle, they finally reach their destination. They could not take up residence in any of the local villages without being noticed. Cities around Cyrium were also out of the question since Egon had strong trade ties with them and news of Arran and Isan would have definitely reached them by now. They only had one option left, The Villide Fen. The huge jungle sprawled in front of them served as the perfect location for them to hide. Even if their pursuers searched for them in the fen, it would be a half hearted effort. The humongous forest was said to be cursed. It had been said that not a single soul that enters the cursed lands can return to tell its tale. The closest village was tens of miles away, any semblance of civilisation dwindling as one reached the fen. Within the vast forest, it would be almost impossible for any half-hearted pursuers to track them down, provided Arran and Isan take sufficient precaution. Though the rumours and tales around the fen shrouded it in mystery and death, making Arran and Isan slightly hesitant at first, they had no other choice. They had to capitalise on the fact that getting over their own fear with regards to the woods meant that they could utilise it as a safe haven. The fact that they were tired of all the running also served as an additional factor in making them decide to stay in the fen. They had grown weary, they had grown desperate. One would be surprised at the decisions one takes when they have had enough. Theirs was one such case. They had thrown caution to the wind when they decided to make the fen their home. ¡°I look forward to making a home with you¡± Isan said teasingly, as they entered the gloomy forest, against all sanity, against all adversity. 18. Awakening The first few days in the forest had not been easy. They neither had protection against the elements nor enough food reserves to last for long. They would soon have to start gathering what fruits and herbs they could. They had spent their first few nights in the woods under a sprawling Oak, while Arran set about the task of building a decent shelter to protect themselves. There was a small stream by the Oak, ensuring thatchy had an immediate supply of fresh water. The Oak¡¯s vast canopy proved effective against the occasional rains but it would not suffice if they had to survive though this year¡¯s winter. There was still time, but they had to make the best of it and quickly become self sustainable. Arran had quickly set about the task of building them a small shelter. The first thing that he did was to sharpen a stone, by slowly chipping it with other stones, to use as a tool. He had used it to cut down small trees, their trunks no wider than his wrist. These trunks served as the supports around which the rest of the small shelter was built. He had used vines to weave around the supports, creating a makeshift wall. Wet clay was then caked onto the walls, filling in the gaps between the weaves and strengthening the structure. Rows of leaves were heaped onto the top of the structure to act as a roof. Though the shelter was anything but strong, it was far better than they could have hoped for in their circumstances. The small hut was constructed under the Oaks canopy, its shelter augmented by the canopy¡¯s own protection. Isan, on the other hand had been busy stockpiling what fruits she could find around their shelter. She had then cleared a patch of land beside the hut with Arran¡¯s help, deciding to use it to sow what edible plants they could find. Weeks pass in bliss. They had slow settled down into their new lives. Surrounded by the beauty of the fen, a serenity seeped into their otherwise fearful lives. They had slowly forgotten about their pursuers, each passing day assuring them further that no one would disturb their cozy abode. The patch of land that Isan had planted had started producing fruits and vegetables, serving as a cache of immediately available food on a rainy day. Arran had also learnt to hunt over the past few weeks. He had only been able to obtain fish from the creek before progressing onto bigger game. Rabbits had proven themselves quite elusive until Arran had learnt to set snares for them. Arran had set off on one his usual morning runs to see if any of his snares had been set off. The day progressed as he went about his routine, slinging the occasional habit that had been unfortunate enough to set off his snares over his shoulder. It had been a decent haul. Isan would be pleased, he thought. He couldn''t help but notice the eerie calm as he neared their hut. It was too quiet, as if the fen was watching, with bated breath, as a drama unfolds in its very midst. He dropped the rabbits he had slung over his shoulder, before crouching close to the ground. He prowled silently onwards, his eyes darting back and forth for telltale signs of danger. As he neared the Oak, he was beset by a sudden paralysis, freezing him in place. He could not move a single part of his body save his eyes. A pair of strong hands gripped his arms before hauling him onto a well muscled shoulder. He was then carried towards the hut, where he witnessed, to his horror that there were dozens of people wearing Lord Tusian¡¯s house colours. ¡°Having a magician sure simplifies matters a lot¡± sneered Lord Erdoch, tracing his index finger along Arran¡¯s cheek. Arran had Isan had over estimated their safety in the fen. They had assumed that the rumours regarding the fen would keep any pursuers at bay. Their weeks of peace had only reinforced this notion, making them slowly lessen their caution. It had been a grave mistake. Isan and the two horses had been frozen similar to Arran. There were too many men around Arran to identify exactly who the magician was. He knew that even if he could identify who the magician was, there was little he could do unless he could free himself from the magician¡¯s spell. ¡°Isan, my darling. What a waste! You could have had a pleasurable life, if only you hadn¡¯t decided to sully yourself with a slave¡± Erdoch spat, disgust written plainly across his face. ¡°Brats like you who sully the noble lineage should be exterminated.¡± He continued, moving toward Equs. ¡°A fine horse you have here. Anshar, how long can you hold the horses? I don''t want to damage them.¡± ¡°A few minutes more. My lord¡± one of the men at Erdoch¡¯s side replied, sweat streaming down his face. ¡°The thoroughbred has a surprisingly higher sentience than most other beings¡­it is quite rare my lord. I would like to buy it off of your gracious hands¡­..¡± he added, plastering a smile on his face. ¡°Mhmm, well¡­take it, i would have to return it to Egon if I take it back with me¡­you might as well become stronger.¡± Stolen story; please report. ¡°Your generosity knows no bounds.¡± the magician replied, before gleefully making his way to Equs. The horse struggled against his binds as the magician approached him. It was clear that the magician was under immense strain. Beads of sweat dripped down his face, plopping silently onto the earth beneath. He placed a hand on Equs¡¯s brow before closing his eyes and growing still. Equs had suddenly stopped struggling, his eyes closing in imitation to the magician¡¯s own. Arran too, fought back against his invisible binds. It was clear that Erdoch intended harm. He knew that the situation looked hopeless but he still had to try his best to save themselves. Erdoch walked back towards isan, drawing his sword. ¡°Filth like you who sully our name cannot be allowed to live¡± he said, before thrusting it into her stomach. Arran couldn''t believe what he was seeing. How can his world turn upside down so fast. How could he be happy one moment, only to have it ripped away the next moment? She would die. The filth would kill her. These fucking nobles and their filthy arrogance. Arran hadn''t even realised the full extent of the danger they had been in. He hadn''t thought that they would kill them so easily. he had assumed that they would at least have a fighting chance. But the fucking noble had not given a single second thought about killing Isan, he made it seem so effortless and callous. It was as if he did not even consider Isan as a human. These fucking nobles. They will die. They will all burn in hell. Arran cursed the world then, his anger, suppressed for months, was breaking free of his grasp. It was as if it was its own being. Erdoch withdrew his sword, preparing to impale Isan once again. Isan looked towards Arran then, the life slowly draining from her beautiful eyes. They conveyed what her frozen face could not. They told Arran of the happiness he had given her. They told Arran of the immense regret that they did not have more time together. They told Arran to live for her sake. The sword descended once again, stabbing her through the stomach a second time. Her eyes conveyed a smile that her lips could not¡­.before emptying their very last light on Arran, filling him with the warmth of her love one last time. Arran¡¯s rage burst forth then. His midnight black eyes losing their brilliance, a surreal blankness replacing it. Everyone will die. He knew this. He was certain of this. Every fucking noble will die. He smiled then, a wild and feral smile. The bonds holding him in place broke apart, torn and ripped as if they were made of paper. The magician¡¯s eyes jerked wide open, a primal scream erupting from him as he crumpled onto the ground, panting heavily for breath. Let me¡­..do this¡­..Let me ¡­Let me¡­..Let meeeeeeee¡­¡­.. A voice echoed in his head. It was filled with madness and insanity. Arran thought it was beautiful. He did not want to deal with this shitty reality. he wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. I will¡­¡­..killl¡­¡­¡­.eat¡­¡­¡­killlllllll¡­¡­¡­. ¡°Gladly¡­¡± Arran said to no one in particular. He bent forward then, as if suddenly losing his balance. A raging inferno erupted around him, incinerating everything within a few tens of metres around him. Not a single soul was spared. Erdoch, the magician, all of the guards¡­no one was left alive. Isan¡¯s body and the two horses on the other hand, were left curiously untouched. The man who once called himself Arran fell onto the ground, sleep overtaking his exhausted soul.
I am not at all satisfied with how this chapter turned out. It contains too little description about their life in the woods and Erdoch''s attack. This should have ideally been two chapters. I just couldn''t seem to bring myself to write as elaborately as I would have liked to and hence the crappy chapter. Hopefully, I will be able to fix this in the second draft. On a lighter note, First milestone reached. This chapter concludes the story of Arran the slave. I hope to develop the story a little quicker from now, hopefully introducing some politics and wars(Arran will definitely be in the centre of everything). Magic will take on a more prominent role from now. I believe that I have a unique magic system. I do hope you will be able to provide feedback about possible loopholes in the system as they get revealed. Thank You