Part Four  

Posted by The Alchemist in

In the darkness not far from where Anias slept, two lives were about to end.

“Hannah, Hannah wake up. Get your things, we have to go.”

In her bed the child moaned softly.

“Mother what is it? I’m tired.”

That was the same question Leda had been asking herself. Five minutes ago her husband had come at her from behind with a rolling pin, shouting and snarling. Now he sat in a catatonic state in the middle of the dirt floor in the next room, drool running down from his lip. Leda thanked the gods above for the darkness, she didn’t want Hannah to see the blood running down from her wounded head. Uric had always been kind to her, but lately he had been acting strangely. Two nights previous he had become furious at dinner and thrown his bowl across the room at her. Immediately after he apologized saying that he knew not what had come over him. He also seemed to be tired and irritated. Over the last week and a half he had taken to sleeping till noon, and frequently napped. He spent more time asleep then awake. Leda thought he was just coping with some illness, but there had to be something else wrong with him. Some times he would stare at her, so hatefully that it made her weep when he was gone. Now it had all culminated in this. The man in the next room could not be her Uric.

“Just get your things dear, we’re going to stay at Rebecca’s house for a while.”

Rebecca was the daughter of her best friend and Hannah’s play mate. Leda did not know where else she could turn.

After Hannah had gathered up her doll, blanket, and extra pair of cloths Leda took her by the hand and led her past her husband in the next room.

“Momma” Hannah whimpered, “What’s wrong with daddy?”

“Come on Hannah” Leda said, nearly having to drag her child away from her father. “We have to go!”

Leda had just made it through the door when she heard a snarl come from behind.

“Where” Uric growled, “do you think that you're going?”

The only thing that could escape her mouth before Uric fell upon her was “Hannah, run!”

If the child had ran right away as her mother had instructed she might have escaped, but she was unable to move as she watched horrified while her father battered her mother with the rolling pin.

Hannah turned, weeping, and fled for the forest not fifty feet away. She had made it to the tree line when her father caught her, and drug her kicking and screaming back to the house. The sobs and screams of the two women did not last much longer that night.

In the morning the villagers found Uric in his house, rocking back and forth, with his daughter and wife cradled in each arm, tears streaming down his face. For a small community such a loss was bitter indeed, but the grief of Uric was the bitterest of all for he could not remember what had happened to his family last night.


Posted by The Alchemist in

While I was looking through my settings I noted that it had disabled posts for those who are not google blog members. I have rectified this, and now everyone should be able to post. Email me if this is not so and I will take another look at it.

Whats on the agenda: I actually have tommorows post already done, and some semblance of a story is growing in my mind. This is kinda fun. I really appreaciate the editing comments made so far, they have been very helpful; This is the sort of thing I need. After I get done studying for tommorows tests I will begin the editing of the second and third story parts, hopefully all that and the fourth post will be up by friday night.

The Alchemist

Part Three: Just don't drop your glasses.  

Posted by The Alchemist in

Waving his hand, Anias produced a small light upon the tip of his walking stick. Staff in one hand and his other resting on the pommel of his old sword, he began to make his way towards the inner recesses of the complex. “I am in way over my head here,” he mused to himself as he walked the dusty halls of Vulgaris’ great underground labyrinth. The tremors coming from the Well simply struck him as odd. “Should it be shaking and vibrating like that?” He had no idea. Putting such thoughts aside he continued on. More then anything else Anias felt alive, vibrant with energy he had not possessed since his youth. To finally see his life’s work complete, to have discovered this place, it was all too much. His only regret was that he had not found the Well until the twilight of his life. Next spring he would be eighty-six. Few guessed he was that old, since part of his hair was still a dull black, and there was yet some strength in his arm. They had called him crazy when at the age of seventy-one he had sold all of his worldly possessions and begun his search for this place. Not bad for a crazy old man. If it took him the rest of his life to explore it the time would not have been misspent. So far every sight had surpassed even his greatest hopes and expectations. The room he walked into next took his breath away.
As far as the eye could see there were books. Stacks of books, shelves filled with books, and desks covered in closed and open books. From where he stood he could see upwards to the chamber’s vaulted ceiling, and rising on every side were pillars supporting other floors. The place was at least four stories of knowledge, more then he could ever hope to sift through. No where in the entire world was there such a collection of books. Dumbfounded he stopped to take it all in.
Since he had begun his search for this place his research had taken him from one country to another, pluming the depths of ancient repositories of knowledge and history. Every book he had ever gone through was probably here. The books on the shelves look as if they were in excellent condition, something that seemed impossible in the light of the fact that they were all so old. The walls thrummed with eldritch power, and he could feel enchantment in the air. Perhaps those who had once lived here had used their power to preserve the knowledge in this room.
The only thing more powerful then his curiosity was his weariness. It was time to rest. After returning to the surface for some wood, Anias settled down next to the warmth and light of a fire he built in a fireplace near the back of the library, and dreamt of the endless possibilities amongst the knowledge of the ages. For him, it seemed, life had only just begun.

Writer's note: This section will probably get a serious overhall seeing as how I wrote most of it at one it the morning, and as for other editing tasks, I'll get around to that sometime tommorow, today its time for studying. Also, anyone know how to get this thing to tab? It let me get away with it yesterday but not today.

Part two: The Doors in My Imagination are Opening  

Posted by The Alchemist in

Unwrapping the leather packaging around his dried foodstuffs, he popped a piece of salty jerky in his mouth. The floor was cold as he sat upon it, but not as cold as it was on the surface. Wandering down here through the stone tunnels he hadn’t seen a single room with something he could sleep on. It wasn’t surprising seeing as how old the place was. Most of the furniture had probably rotted away. Rubbing his eyes with his palms he ran one hand down over the salt and pepper stubble on his face and rubbed that section vigorously as well. From where he sat the blue aura of Vulgaris’ Well lit the hall through an arched doorway. Anias debated getting out his bed roll, ground cover, and just sleeping right there. The only problem would be the nagging vibration coming from the Well in the next room. It would either be one of those things that helped put him to sleep or would keep him from getting any at all. Finishing his small meal, he gathered his legs beneath him and walked off down the hall. Exploring more of the underground complex surrounding the well would help him get further away from the pulsating eddy in the next room.

Note: You know, I have no idea where all of this is going. I started writing this last night and continued by writing the second part today. At the very least I like Anias.

Come what May  

Posted by The Alchemist in

He could not look away. For fifteen years he had trekked across deserts and mountains, dark forests and frozen tundra to find this place. Standing on a stone lip made of granite and mortar, Anias was bathed in light coming from the swirling blue vortex that was the Well of Vulgaris. Power emanated from the well and sent vibrations through his body. The vibrations were powerful enough that they could be felt on the surface of the earth hundreds of feet above. His cloak billowed in the air rushing around the room. So like water was the flowing magic, that he had to resist the urge to reach down and dip his hand in it. It was nothing as benign as water, but raw power, the very fabric of existence. With such had the universe been forged and refined. The well was a focus, and functioned much like a bowl left to collect water after a morning dew. In the same the well could collect the excess of power radiating from the surrounding world. It was pure magic, as the plebeians would call it, though it was nothing so simple nor cliché. For nearly a thousand years had the well been distilling hesh’iash, the stuff of existence, from its surroundings. The well was nearly overflowing. So dangerous it was, and so tempting to tap its unlimited power. Such a thing hadn’t been attempted since before the Last War, and he was not about to walk flippantly into such a dangerous endeavor. The histories hinted at the fate awaiting those who dabbled in the craft of sorcery. Despite his skill, Anias could control magic about as well as a fly could control the wind with its wings. Turning, he left the glow of the room and its temptations behind. More study would be needed. For now, having found the well was enough.



Posted by The Alchemist in

And so it begins. The only way to get good at writing is practice and so I set myself on the path to perfection; may this blog bring criticism to distill my good qualities from the bad.