Finally I'm commenting something here!
Just wanted to say very nice work, Grayle. I like how you mention so many details yet you don't go overboard and confuse the readers with too many words. I suppose that's why it's so easy to visualize what's happening, like Ludovic said before.
Looking forward to read more. Grayle (or Sebastian) is a very interesting character.
That Long-Awaited Dream
After hours of darkness, the boy's surroundings began to slowly dim again. Sebastian lay against a stone wall, his arms wrapped around his scuffed knees. He had finally managed to sleep an uneasy sleep, but his neck was stiff from the hard rock floor. Above the boy, some yards high upon the wall, a small arched crack in the block allowed a little light. The vaulted ceiling was far above him, and water rivulets slid snakelike down the walls. The air was damp and smelled of rot, but there was a draft. Looking upward, Grayle believed that this room looked very much like a tower with the floors removed, except of course that it was under the earth.
"It's going to rain, boy." the man's voice uttered, breaking the silence with echoes. "We will only have a little light with which to work today, but there is another lesson to be learned, if the storm is slow-moving."
Sebastian wondered what this 'other' lesson might be and shuddered as he stood up. He rubbed his arms against the chill.
"How do you know it's going to rain?"
The old man simply smiled. "This is as light as it will get for us today."
Upon one wall of stone and mortar, the remains of old stucco and paint still clung to the wall in places, but it was obvious that the blocks were very thick and well-chisled and fit. Higher up, the mortar was pierced by rotten oak support beams. Old as it most obviously was, the walls were magnificent in thier restraint of those within. The old man's etchings covered most of this wall, with special designs and glyphs upon the places where the stucco made it flat. The map of the known lands encompassed the whole of his work, with the coastlines forming a sort of frame about his calender and writing. The etchings were very deep, especially what the old man referred to as 'the first words.' These were very low upon the wall near a corner of the room where the flooring was fairly level. Old shackles and bowls, A tankard and odd trinkets and dirty tidbits were gathered there and a basket with folded cloth. The words etched into the stone were I will not fail you.
"You will want to avoid the low side of the room when the rain begins." The old man blinked, drawing Sebastians attention to his irises, glowing slightly in the dim. "I like it when it rains, or at least, I learned to like it, once I discovered how to stay dry." He smiled a simple smile. "When it rains, it reminds me that something real is happening in the world."
"How long have you been here?"
"Ohh, a very long time. Very long, yes."
"Are you a bad man?" The words seemed to echo longer than others.
The old man bit his lip. "Noone is ever put in here because they were bad or good, Sebastian. Noone is put in here for committing a crime, such as we both possibly have done. No, I am not a bad man, nor are you a bad child. We were put in here because someone simply wanted us forgotten, not even a witness to our execution could be risked, for whatever reasons." The old man quickly raised his gnarled finger to his mouth, smiling and looking upward.
The walls seemed to exhale as a thunderclap echoed up and down the tall chamber. Sebeastian felt the breath sucked out of him as the rumbling grew terrible then distant. He covered his ears.
"Oh, that was a good one. Do not stoop like a badger, boy, tut tut. That sound is song. It is the finest music a man could hope to hear. Be afraid, but show courage, for Ramman's hand stretches far inland today. We'll have to sit against the North wall, where the floor isn't so torn up."
Upon the wall opposite Grayle's Map, there was a two foot wide semi-circular hole some distance above them. Several smaller rivulets of water grew together, crawling towards each other in the mortar until they became a rapid waterfall. Fat droplets began to fall from the ceiling and the smell of the place improved dramatically. The old man quickly set out a wooden bucket under a place where the drops were very frequent. He set out a few wooden plates and an old helmet. Water began to collect in all the vessels, even as the floor along the Southern wall began to submerge.
"Come on up here, boy. We'll stay dry and see if anything falls from that cistern. Oftentimes, when it rains above us in Dasar, forgotten items plummet down here, washed off the streets."
The boy scrambled up the debris-filled corner of the room, stepping from one block to another, buckled as they seemed to be within the uneven floor. He looked at the water rising and gave a worried glance to the old man.
"It doesn't get as high as we are." Grayle groaned as he sat upon a thatched mat. "Now, what would you like to talk about today?"
The boy blinked, perplexed.
"What sort of things have washed in here?"
The old man smiled, then turned and gently patted the piles of small belongings behind him. He smiled and tossed a bright red apple to the boy. Sebastian caught it and laughed. He bit into it, suddenly realizing he was very hungry. That apople was the best thing Sebastian remembered eating. The old man nibbled on a scrap of crust, staring his unending stare. After they had finished, Grayle had set out a makeshift chess board and began telling him the significance of the carved wooden pieces.
"This one, boy, is a Knight."
Lightning could be seen on occasion in the darkness as the rain continued through the evening and night. The old man had draped a shawl and blanket about Sebastian's shoulders, and he was niether wearm nor cold, but though he was not soaked through, everything was wet. The turpid pool on the south side of the room as about three feet below them. As the old man had said, it had stopped rising. There were water marks on the wall from previous floods. The walls sweat and the thunder seemed muffled now, slow and rolling, pulsing. There was a deep loud splash from the darkness. Grayle was asleep, huddled against a wall in a tangle of old blankets, his back to the room. Sebastian considered what to do, then carefully walked toward the southern end of the hall, the floor slanting somewhat before him. Feeling his way with his hands and feet, he gained towards the edge of the pool, then reached into the water.
"What is it, child?"
"There something in the water, here. It must have washed down from above."
Sebastian's hands and arms were covered with muddy silt. He pulled the object from the water and nearly lost his balance in the darkness. It seemed like a candlestick, covered in wet dripping mud. It was only in the brief lightning flash that he could see he held the rusty hilt of a sword in his hand. He shivered at the thought that he might have grasped it by the blade. It flashed slightly in the sudden light, notched as it was. The boy stood at the edge of the water, the weight of the weapon very heavy in his hand. Sebastian had always dreampt of being a Knight, but there was no glory to be won down here.
"It's going to rain, boy." the man's voice uttered, breaking the silence with echoes. "We will only have a little light with which to work today, but there is another lesson to be learned, if the storm is slow-moving."
Sebastian wondered what this 'other' lesson might be and shuddered as he stood up. He rubbed his arms against the chill.
"How do you know it's going to rain?"
The old man simply smiled. "This is as light as it will get for us today."
Upon one wall of stone and mortar, the remains of old stucco and paint still clung to the wall in places, but it was obvious that the blocks were very thick and well-chisled and fit. Higher up, the mortar was pierced by rotten oak support beams. Old as it most obviously was, the walls were magnificent in thier restraint of those within. The old man's etchings covered most of this wall, with special designs and glyphs upon the places where the stucco made it flat. The map of the known lands encompassed the whole of his work, with the coastlines forming a sort of frame about his calender and writing. The etchings were very deep, especially what the old man referred to as 'the first words.' These were very low upon the wall near a corner of the room where the flooring was fairly level. Old shackles and bowls, A tankard and odd trinkets and dirty tidbits were gathered there and a basket with folded cloth. The words etched into the stone were I will not fail you.
"You will want to avoid the low side of the room when the rain begins." The old man blinked, drawing Sebastians attention to his irises, glowing slightly in the dim. "I like it when it rains, or at least, I learned to like it, once I discovered how to stay dry." He smiled a simple smile. "When it rains, it reminds me that something real is happening in the world."
"How long have you been here?"
"Ohh, a very long time. Very long, yes."
"Are you a bad man?" The words seemed to echo longer than others.
The old man bit his lip. "Noone is ever put in here because they were bad or good, Sebastian. Noone is put in here for committing a crime, such as we both possibly have done. No, I am not a bad man, nor are you a bad child. We were put in here because someone simply wanted us forgotten, not even a witness to our execution could be risked, for whatever reasons." The old man quickly raised his gnarled finger to his mouth, smiling and looking upward.
The walls seemed to exhale as a thunderclap echoed up and down the tall chamber. Sebeastian felt the breath sucked out of him as the rumbling grew terrible then distant. He covered his ears.
"Oh, that was a good one. Do not stoop like a badger, boy, tut tut. That sound is song. It is the finest music a man could hope to hear. Be afraid, but show courage, for Ramman's hand stretches far inland today. We'll have to sit against the North wall, where the floor isn't so torn up."
Upon the wall opposite Grayle's Map, there was a two foot wide semi-circular hole some distance above them. Several smaller rivulets of water grew together, crawling towards each other in the mortar until they became a rapid waterfall. Fat droplets began to fall from the ceiling and the smell of the place improved dramatically. The old man quickly set out a wooden bucket under a place where the drops were very frequent. He set out a few wooden plates and an old helmet. Water began to collect in all the vessels, even as the floor along the Southern wall began to submerge.
"Come on up here, boy. We'll stay dry and see if anything falls from that cistern. Oftentimes, when it rains above us in Dasar, forgotten items plummet down here, washed off the streets."
The boy scrambled up the debris-filled corner of the room, stepping from one block to another, buckled as they seemed to be within the uneven floor. He looked at the water rising and gave a worried glance to the old man.
"It doesn't get as high as we are." Grayle groaned as he sat upon a thatched mat. "Now, what would you like to talk about today?"
The boy blinked, perplexed.
"What sort of things have washed in here?"
The old man smiled, then turned and gently patted the piles of small belongings behind him. He smiled and tossed a bright red apple to the boy. Sebastian caught it and laughed. He bit into it, suddenly realizing he was very hungry. That apople was the best thing Sebastian remembered eating. The old man nibbled on a scrap of crust, staring his unending stare. After they had finished, Grayle had set out a makeshift chess board and began telling him the significance of the carved wooden pieces.
"This one, boy, is a Knight."
Lightning could be seen on occasion in the darkness as the rain continued through the evening and night. The old man had draped a shawl and blanket about Sebastian's shoulders, and he was niether wearm nor cold, but though he was not soaked through, everything was wet. The turpid pool on the south side of the room as about three feet below them. As the old man had said, it had stopped rising. There were water marks on the wall from previous floods. The walls sweat and the thunder seemed muffled now, slow and rolling, pulsing. There was a deep loud splash from the darkness. Grayle was asleep, huddled against a wall in a tangle of old blankets, his back to the room. Sebastian considered what to do, then carefully walked toward the southern end of the hall, the floor slanting somewhat before him. Feeling his way with his hands and feet, he gained towards the edge of the pool, then reached into the water.
"What is it, child?"
"There something in the water, here. It must have washed down from above."
Sebastian's hands and arms were covered with muddy silt. He pulled the object from the water and nearly lost his balance in the darkness. It seemed like a candlestick, covered in wet dripping mud. It was only in the brief lightning flash that he could see he held the rusty hilt of a sword in his hand. He shivered at the thought that he might have grasped it by the blade. It flashed slightly in the sudden light, notched as it was. The boy stood at the edge of the water, the weight of the weapon very heavy in his hand. Sebastian had always dreampt of being a Knight, but there was no glory to be won down here.
Last edited by Grayle on Tue Feb 13, 2007 3:42 am, edited 4 times in total.
His breath was about to go. Every muscle burned.
The country out East beyond the former battlefields of the great war was hilly and wild. Forests dotted the landscape, filled with all manner of treees hundreds of years old. Locals would tell you with both pride and fear that elfin magic still lingered undying in the deep copses on summer nights. The road became less distinct and fell into disrepair until the stone blocks vanished altogether, leaving only a serpentine stony path. Only the occasional footbridge would make the path distinguishable from a dried up creek-bed.
Into this land Sebastian found himself, having lost the path while admiring the beauty of twilight. A sudden flight of Nightjars had been the thing to snap him from his forray. The moon was full and round, making travel quite possible at night, even in these woody hills. The bay of Daris was clearly visable to the East and South. Knowing the coast meant knowing direction, and Sebastian was stubborn. The closer he drew to Cear, the more alive he felt. Purpose was something fascinating to feel. A branch snapped near but behind him.
Grayle stopped and turned his head. He concentrated on listening a moment, holding his breath and suddenly feeling very aware of the quiet. Hearing nothing, he adjusted his satchel and quickened his pace. An unseen branch swatted him in the face and scratched his eyelid.
"Son of a" he murmered and chortled slightly. A high-pitched yowl interupted his laugh. Sebastian's memories from before the pit were few, but even among them was the knowledge of the wolf's howl. A warning to children to stay out of the woods at night. Grayle could hear his heartbeat quite loudly. Something was panting. Something very close.
The haggard man leapt onto a high jutting stone. Before him, the woods thinned and a flowing landscape stretched out before him, wild and descending. The moonlight shone off a distant creekbed and even further distant, the torches of some settlement glowed orange against the horizon. It was perhaps days away.
Branches crackling turned Grayles eyes behind him. There was a barking and yipping from the darkness. Sebastian tore into the clearing, metal scales from his armor clapping against his leather breeches. He stumbled and fell, rolling, getting to his feet again and clambering up and down unseen dips in the terrain.
His breath was about to go. Every muscle burned.
He stumbled again, and a great weight fell upon him. His arm exploded with pain as something shook him violently. It's ears were very ragged. Grayle tore free, screaming and cursing. "Get off me! Get off me!"
He took a few more steps and saw two wolves before him some twenty paces, standing on a stone with thier tongues hanging out. He turned again and planted his feet. A shaggy, glowing eyed beast was trotting forward, it's mouth upturned. Grayle had had enough.
"Bring your ma with ya, and I'll show her some of the same, ya wee stupid puppy!" He was yelling. The echoes came and went, full of anger. "C'mon!" He grabbed a rock and raised it to strike. Warm blood trickled down his arm.
There was a swish and the great wolf yiped. It yowled in pain as it's legs failed him. He tried to stand when another hatchet slammed into it's shoulder. Hidden lupine shadows suddenly started and scattered. Grayle turned about, laughing and yelling.
"I told you! This is why I can make fire and you can't! Because I'm a man and you're just stupid, stupid animals!" He kicked dust into the air. "Can you stand upright? No you can't! I can! I can!" His yelling was almost frantic and full of joy and rage, as if uttered on stage or by a man of many drinks.
Sebastian staggred a moment, then raised his head again towards the moon. Upon a mound of large stones stood an Orc, silently regarding him. The tusked stanger held an axe in his hand, and in the moonlight, his eyes seemed to glow red.
Sebastian's breaths still came hard and fast. He put his hands upon his hips, too tired to run. Attempting his best pose of defiance he spoke to the Orc in a hoarse but proud voice. "I'm...I'm...I'm...Grayle."
"Jack" He said.
The country out East beyond the former battlefields of the great war was hilly and wild. Forests dotted the landscape, filled with all manner of treees hundreds of years old. Locals would tell you with both pride and fear that elfin magic still lingered undying in the deep copses on summer nights. The road became less distinct and fell into disrepair until the stone blocks vanished altogether, leaving only a serpentine stony path. Only the occasional footbridge would make the path distinguishable from a dried up creek-bed.
Into this land Sebastian found himself, having lost the path while admiring the beauty of twilight. A sudden flight of Nightjars had been the thing to snap him from his forray. The moon was full and round, making travel quite possible at night, even in these woody hills. The bay of Daris was clearly visable to the East and South. Knowing the coast meant knowing direction, and Sebastian was stubborn. The closer he drew to Cear, the more alive he felt. Purpose was something fascinating to feel. A branch snapped near but behind him.
Grayle stopped and turned his head. He concentrated on listening a moment, holding his breath and suddenly feeling very aware of the quiet. Hearing nothing, he adjusted his satchel and quickened his pace. An unseen branch swatted him in the face and scratched his eyelid.
"Son of a" he murmered and chortled slightly. A high-pitched yowl interupted his laugh. Sebastian's memories from before the pit were few, but even among them was the knowledge of the wolf's howl. A warning to children to stay out of the woods at night. Grayle could hear his heartbeat quite loudly. Something was panting. Something very close.
The haggard man leapt onto a high jutting stone. Before him, the woods thinned and a flowing landscape stretched out before him, wild and descending. The moonlight shone off a distant creekbed and even further distant, the torches of some settlement glowed orange against the horizon. It was perhaps days away.
Branches crackling turned Grayles eyes behind him. There was a barking and yipping from the darkness. Sebastian tore into the clearing, metal scales from his armor clapping against his leather breeches. He stumbled and fell, rolling, getting to his feet again and clambering up and down unseen dips in the terrain.
His breath was about to go. Every muscle burned.
He stumbled again, and a great weight fell upon him. His arm exploded with pain as something shook him violently. It's ears were very ragged. Grayle tore free, screaming and cursing. "Get off me! Get off me!"
He took a few more steps and saw two wolves before him some twenty paces, standing on a stone with thier tongues hanging out. He turned again and planted his feet. A shaggy, glowing eyed beast was trotting forward, it's mouth upturned. Grayle had had enough.
"Bring your ma with ya, and I'll show her some of the same, ya wee stupid puppy!" He was yelling. The echoes came and went, full of anger. "C'mon!" He grabbed a rock and raised it to strike. Warm blood trickled down his arm.
There was a swish and the great wolf yiped. It yowled in pain as it's legs failed him. He tried to stand when another hatchet slammed into it's shoulder. Hidden lupine shadows suddenly started and scattered. Grayle turned about, laughing and yelling.
"I told you! This is why I can make fire and you can't! Because I'm a man and you're just stupid, stupid animals!" He kicked dust into the air. "Can you stand upright? No you can't! I can! I can!" His yelling was almost frantic and full of joy and rage, as if uttered on stage or by a man of many drinks.
Sebastian staggred a moment, then raised his head again towards the moon. Upon a mound of large stones stood an Orc, silently regarding him. The tusked stanger held an axe in his hand, and in the moonlight, his eyes seemed to glow red.
Sebastian's breaths still came hard and fast. He put his hands upon his hips, too tired to run. Attempting his best pose of defiance he spoke to the Orc in a hoarse but proud voice. "I'm...I'm...I'm...Grayle."
"Jack" He said.
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Journeysend
- Commoner
- Posts: 15
- Joined: Mon Nov 27, 2006 3:26 am
- Location: fol de rol de rol do'ing down the lane
It was a warm day. The road appeared again just beyond the distant brook. Paving stones took the mid-day light and became a winding line through scattered hills and woods East towards the distant city. The hill on which Grayle and Jack stood was on a rising drape of land climbing Northward towards the mountains far Northeast. The cape of Daris was a hazy blue sheen South and West, with a cloud of foul air over Cear, less than a day from where the two wanderers stood.
Grayle found himself unconsciously staring at his travelling companion. Not a fearful or hateful gaze, but a look of fascination. Jack was not an Orc, but he was obviously of mixed blood with men. He walked with a proud and cunning gait, always seeming to notice the calls of animals about him. Often Jack would stoop to the ground and trace a finger in the dirt, or just sit and think for a few moments. He did not speak often, but when he did speak is was neither friendly nor intimidating. Grayle often thought how difficult it must be to speak with two mishapen tusks getting in the way. If jack took notice of Grayle's obvious curiousity, he didn't react to it. Instead the man always seemed to be as if reading a story, not wishing to be distracted from the tale the roads and paths had to tell.
Jack had freely offered Grayle and bandoleer of throwing axes. Apparently they were a cheap buy in the city and enough for the half-Orc to hunt with. Over his wide shoulders was slung a snare of many wolf pelts. It had been while hunting that Jack had come across the wayward man. Grayle and Jack came across three other wolves late in the day and added to the bundle. Jack said they would fetch a price in Cear. Apparently, Jack was a hunter, or at least hunting for the moment. This was how he earned coins in order to do business with Cear. He had arrived the day before, traveling from places he would not name.
A few small farms and orchards quilted the lands before the looming wall and it's massive gate. The smell of horse and smoke, sweat and offal assailed Grayle's nostrils. He remembered this smell from Dasar, but had grown unfamiliar to it. it was very intense, as the last time he had really been exposed to it was when he was very young. Jack noticed Grayle's reaction to the odor and chortled. Beside them along the road, not two-hundreds paces from the city, a murder of crows scattered from some quarry, thier raucous calls piercing the air. Torn by scavengers, the woman's body had also been hacked with many fierce wounds and one of her fingers had been severed. Jack was kneeling, one greenish hand upon an axe as he studied the ground. Grayle suddenly felt very young and naive.
"Welcome to Cear." Jack said, adjusting the weight of his wolf pelts as they hung across his back.
Grayle swallowed his breath and followed the hunter towards the looming gates.
Grayle found himself unconsciously staring at his travelling companion. Not a fearful or hateful gaze, but a look of fascination. Jack was not an Orc, but he was obviously of mixed blood with men. He walked with a proud and cunning gait, always seeming to notice the calls of animals about him. Often Jack would stoop to the ground and trace a finger in the dirt, or just sit and think for a few moments. He did not speak often, but when he did speak is was neither friendly nor intimidating. Grayle often thought how difficult it must be to speak with two mishapen tusks getting in the way. If jack took notice of Grayle's obvious curiousity, he didn't react to it. Instead the man always seemed to be as if reading a story, not wishing to be distracted from the tale the roads and paths had to tell.
Jack had freely offered Grayle and bandoleer of throwing axes. Apparently they were a cheap buy in the city and enough for the half-Orc to hunt with. Over his wide shoulders was slung a snare of many wolf pelts. It had been while hunting that Jack had come across the wayward man. Grayle and Jack came across three other wolves late in the day and added to the bundle. Jack said they would fetch a price in Cear. Apparently, Jack was a hunter, or at least hunting for the moment. This was how he earned coins in order to do business with Cear. He had arrived the day before, traveling from places he would not name.
A few small farms and orchards quilted the lands before the looming wall and it's massive gate. The smell of horse and smoke, sweat and offal assailed Grayle's nostrils. He remembered this smell from Dasar, but had grown unfamiliar to it. it was very intense, as the last time he had really been exposed to it was when he was very young. Jack noticed Grayle's reaction to the odor and chortled. Beside them along the road, not two-hundreds paces from the city, a murder of crows scattered from some quarry, thier raucous calls piercing the air. Torn by scavengers, the woman's body had also been hacked with many fierce wounds and one of her fingers had been severed. Jack was kneeling, one greenish hand upon an axe as he studied the ground. Grayle suddenly felt very young and naive.
"Welcome to Cear." Jack said, adjusting the weight of his wolf pelts as they hung across his back.
Grayle swallowed his breath and followed the hunter towards the looming gates.
"Boy!"
His scream was just that, a desperate sound between frantic breaths.
"Boy, you must listen to me!" The echoes were deafening, haunting.
"I am here, teacher. I am right beside you." he reassured. Sebastian took a damp cloth and gently blotted the old man's mottled brow. The fever had been unrelenting for four days now, and each mark Sebastian made in the stone wall in his master's stead was as if a scar upon his own person. "Be calm." He smiled though a tear of frustration rolled down his nose. "I'm not going anywhere."
The old man grasped Sebastian's hand in his, patting it with his withered fingers.
"Listen to me Sebastian, for this is very important: Forty years was my sentence. Forty years banished into the darkness of this oubliette, this former tower of Dasar, sunk beneathe the very streets of the city so as to erase it from memory. Such it was for me, for prophesying the will of the gods. In two-hundreds and eighty-eight days, Forty years will have passed, but my freedom will occur long before such a mandate." His chest and neck strained.
"Come now, you've been sick before. Remember two winters ago? You slept for a week. You wouldn't eat and I could barely get you to drink. I had thought you were going to die."
"I knew I would not, just as I know soon I will pass from this world." He whispered. Grayle's eyes were the same sightless white they had always been. Sebastian stared at his shadowy reflection in them.
Sebastian paused, taken back by his masters earnest. He wrung the water from a rag and placed it on his mentor's forehead.
"Sebastian, dear boy, you are now what in the outside world would be a man, and the outside world you shall see again. When they come for me, they will find only you, and when they ask your name, you will give them mine. There are few left alive in this world that would know Grayle is a withered old husk of a priest. They will come to release Grayle from this cage and it is you who will be Grayle, at least to your captors. You must be brave and endure the madenning loneliness until that day. Continue your lessons and your....your excerci-" His violent cough splattered blood across his own chin. "Your exercises." His throat rattled as he deeply inhaled.
"I have grown to love you, Sebastian. I was told one would come, a reason to live content and satisfied, even within this prison. Utu told me my life would have a meaning. So, have I tried, so have I." The old man's eyes grew wide and wild. He trembled with excitement. "I did not fail you! I did not fail you!" he cried. Sebastian could not be sure anymore if it was even he to whom the old man was calling.
Sebastian was frightened. His teacher had always been the strong one, the supporter. His wrinkled hands had always been the stronger, the weight of his words always more wise. This was the first time Sebastian had truly understood the old man's body was giving in, giving up. Overwhelmed, he rolled the tattered blanket back up to the old man's chin. Grayle began mumbling amidst deep, brutal coughs.
"Try to rest. We'll talk more after you've gained some strength back." Sebastian said.
Sebastian pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Eventually, the coughs stopped and Sebastian drifted into an uneasy sleep.
His scream was just that, a desperate sound between frantic breaths.
"Boy, you must listen to me!" The echoes were deafening, haunting.
"I am here, teacher. I am right beside you." he reassured. Sebastian took a damp cloth and gently blotted the old man's mottled brow. The fever had been unrelenting for four days now, and each mark Sebastian made in the stone wall in his master's stead was as if a scar upon his own person. "Be calm." He smiled though a tear of frustration rolled down his nose. "I'm not going anywhere."
The old man grasped Sebastian's hand in his, patting it with his withered fingers.
"Listen to me Sebastian, for this is very important: Forty years was my sentence. Forty years banished into the darkness of this oubliette, this former tower of Dasar, sunk beneathe the very streets of the city so as to erase it from memory. Such it was for me, for prophesying the will of the gods. In two-hundreds and eighty-eight days, Forty years will have passed, but my freedom will occur long before such a mandate." His chest and neck strained.
"Come now, you've been sick before. Remember two winters ago? You slept for a week. You wouldn't eat and I could barely get you to drink. I had thought you were going to die."
"I knew I would not, just as I know soon I will pass from this world." He whispered. Grayle's eyes were the same sightless white they had always been. Sebastian stared at his shadowy reflection in them.
Sebastian paused, taken back by his masters earnest. He wrung the water from a rag and placed it on his mentor's forehead.
"Sebastian, dear boy, you are now what in the outside world would be a man, and the outside world you shall see again. When they come for me, they will find only you, and when they ask your name, you will give them mine. There are few left alive in this world that would know Grayle is a withered old husk of a priest. They will come to release Grayle from this cage and it is you who will be Grayle, at least to your captors. You must be brave and endure the madenning loneliness until that day. Continue your lessons and your....your excerci-" His violent cough splattered blood across his own chin. "Your exercises." His throat rattled as he deeply inhaled.
"I have grown to love you, Sebastian. I was told one would come, a reason to live content and satisfied, even within this prison. Utu told me my life would have a meaning. So, have I tried, so have I." The old man's eyes grew wide and wild. He trembled with excitement. "I did not fail you! I did not fail you!" he cried. Sebastian could not be sure anymore if it was even he to whom the old man was calling.
Sebastian was frightened. His teacher had always been the strong one, the supporter. His wrinkled hands had always been the stronger, the weight of his words always more wise. This was the first time Sebastian had truly understood the old man's body was giving in, giving up. Overwhelmed, he rolled the tattered blanket back up to the old man's chin. Grayle began mumbling amidst deep, brutal coughs.
"Try to rest. We'll talk more after you've gained some strength back." Sebastian said.
Sebastian pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Eventually, the coughs stopped and Sebastian drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Last edited by Grayle on Wed Mar 14, 2007 2:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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blackheart
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 1003
- Joined: Fri Dec 29, 2006 8:32 pm
- Location: On the sand by the waves beneath the stars
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Wumpus Slayer
- Dasarian Scout
- Posts: 495
- Joined: Wed Dec 27, 2006 4:50 am
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