Land of Winds - the Guardian, Part One, Fantasy Fiction

Hello and welcome to "Land of Winds - the Guardian" part one. I must admit I jacked the 'Author's note' part from dohn (thank you very much btw, and I hope you don't mind) as it seemed the perfect way to keep tabs on each installment and offer links to previous postings for new readers, and readers like me who sometimes miss the 'hub that comes before'!

I hope you enjoy my very first foray into fantasy - something that I began quite a few years ago just to see if I could write as well as my favorite fantasy authors. Since starting my journey, I have been distracted by other writing pursuits, so I thought this might help get me back on track and finish it. I hope you enjoy...

Enelle

Seome opened his eyes to total blackness. Mouldering straw, and the cloying stench of something long rotted assailed his nostrils, making his head throb. A damp chill enveloped him like a shroud, seeping through his clothes where he lay, and he shivered uncontrollably. He could hear what he thought were rats gnawing something in the dark recesses of his cell. What the something was, he really did not want to contemplate.

Grimacing, Seome wondered where he was and how long he had been lying here. The memory of his friends, shredded and mangled, filled his mind. Panic seized him again as he saw the huge misshapen visage, engulfed in flames, reaching out for him. “No,” he thought. “Not again!” He shook his head to banish the images, and instantly regretted it. Waves of nausea rolled over him and he grit his teeth to keep from being sick. Crippling pain wracked every inch of his body, and he collapsed senseless on the pallet.

Seome floated in blackness, feeling nothing, the pain receded to the far corners of his mind. He sensed a pull on his body, drawing him up from the depths of unconsciousness. He felt the darkness slipping from his limbs as if he was being pulled from thick mud, and he felt a greyness crowding the edges of his awareness. He reached cautiously towards it, noting that it shimmered and coalesced around him, until suddenly he stood motionless in a mist-enshrouded room.

He could see nothing through the haze and was unable to discern any features, save one -- the sound of muffled voices. What were they saying? Seome strained to hear something...anything. He could tell the voices were arguing. They hadn't the cadence of spell casting. He remembered a quiet chanting and he saw his mother's face smiling, soothing him as she stroked his hair, rocking him gently, while the words wrapped around them, blanketing him in sleep. The memory faded as the voices grew louder and he realized he could understand fragments of the discussion.

“Well, if you didn't call him, then what is he doing here?” a voice hissed.

“I don’t know. This has never happened before!”

“Were they talking about him?” The second voice sounded calm and unruffled, as it continued.

“As to why he is here,obviously something went wrong… but what...” with a rush of sensations, Seome gasped, coughing as a bucket of icy water splashed over his head and shoulders.All the nausea and pain rushed back and he rolled off the pallet, vomiting on the floor.

“That 'un woke yer up, yer lizard offal! The Master as wants yer sorry arse, and what the Master wants, the Master gets.”

Hands grabbed his tunic. Yanking him to his feet, they propelled him towards an open door. He stumbled and fell to his knees, crying out with pain as the hard stone bit through his breeks, leaving a smear of blood. The guard grabbed a handful of Seome's hair and dragged him screaming from the cell, dumping him unceremoniously in a heap on the floor.

“So this is the one He sought. What is your name boy?”

Seome raised his head to look at the speaker. A well-placed kick from the guard lifted Seome to his hands and knees, even as his breath was forced from his lungs.

“Show proper respect, yer wyrm-dung.” growled the guard as he yanked Seome's head up.

A tall, thin man wearing a long black robe stood gazing down at him. Water dripped into Seome's eyes, making the robe appear to shimmer when the man moved. He saw glimpses of jewels at his throat and wrists that glittered in the torchlight. A large ruby winked on a pendant around his neck, and a silver belt of inlaid rubies lay clasped about his waist. Two wicked, jewel encrusted daggers hung from it. Seome felt his eyes drawn unrelentingly to the man's face.

Pale skin stretched across high thin cheekbones, and his black eyes glittered with malicious intent, his thin lips parted in a cruel smile. Long black hair fell loose about his shoulders.

“What does He want with you, I wonder?” The man turned his back, pacing the room. Seome saw the edges of a scar running crookedly from the corner of the mans right eye to his jaw.

“Well no matter, you are in my custody now. What is your name boy?” The man gestured and Seome’s gut twisted in pain. He collapsed on the floor, gasping, sweat and water dripping in his eyes, his body spasming uncontrollably.

“You will tell me everything in time,” he whispered. “Guard! Take him back to his… room. Send for Jansin... have men ready my horse.”

He looked at Seome and smiled, “This will have to wait until I return. He glanced at the guard who reached to grab Seome, saying, “The boy will be no trouble.” With a casual wave of his hand, an unseen force slammed into Seome. He had time for one gut wrenching cry of anguish before he fainted.

Satisfied his charge was incapacitated, the man swept from the room.

© Enelle Lamb 2004, all rights reserved

Part Two