Siris – Of Glass & Paper

#FiveSentenceFiction: Wishes

She was their benefactor, their protection, the One, fearless, who could keep the Enemy at bay.

When She disappeared, they held vigils, sacrificed a calf to the Goddess, prayed for Her return.

All their wishes were for Her to be back in their midst, honoured and more than a little feared; their planet completed a revolution around their Sun, and she did not come back.

The village wise-men considered what to do next. Had they displeased Her?

Then, one cold dawn, the following winter, She was back, with a mate, a young knight wearing the black armour of the Deathless: their prayers had been answered.

#FiveSentenceFiction – Ruins

She stood, very still, in the shadow of the ruined tower.

The massive door was now wide open, no light came out from the depth of evil inside.

There, through corridors guarded by hideous titans, she knew the God King would be waiting, a corrupting and seductive smile on his lips.

There too, in the deepest, coldest dungeon, in chains, lied her brother, her lover, the knight she would soon free.

She had rehearsed every move, every corner of the sinister building, she could walk in blinded: but she would enter his domain, eyes wide open, the deadly sword firmly in her hands, a merciless warrior with an angel face.

#FiveSentenceFiction: Furious

He was too small, his tiny fists in his pockets, shaking with rage.

They mocked him, he was so young, they kicked him, the way bullies do, knowing there is no way their victim can strike bak, his little face went blue, smeared with tears and their spit.

And, of course, later, he learnt, for months, years, slowly becoming the man he wanted to be.

One day he woke up, looked at himself in the mirror, so composed he was, with all those years of training behind him, all that wisdom, steel and nerves.

And he went back, stood in the square, waiting: and sure enough he saw them, or their siblings, gathering like locusts, so, suddenly, the cool guy disappeared, and in a blue rage he made minced meat of all of them; and the police said “you had a good time here”, and he smiled.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Object

BEGIN WITH AN OBJECT IN MIND

Objects are evocative; they hold stories. The writing challenge this week is to begin with an object.

It stood, alone, in the middle of the circle of stones, at first in darkness. As Siris got closer he thought he saw a faint glow. Was this a trap? He was very close now, another step or two and he could touch the weapon.

Clouds masked the moon, suddenly the world was very still. “In silence”, had said Isa, “remember me, be aware, be ready to fight.” He was, all his senses on alert. He was able to lift his gloved hand, but stopped.

He could hear the low humming, and knew at once it came from the stone that held the weapon. In slow motion he surveyed the scene: he was alone, with IT.

He took off his glove and seized the handle: at first the metal – if it was metal – felt cold, and heavy. Slowly, oh so slowly, he lifted the Blade. It was heavy, and he felt a slight vibration along his arm, in his hand.

The Blade was getting warmer and lighter. He felt its warmth now in his fingers, stiff with frost. He held the Blade high, weighing it, slashed the air around him with it: he could hear the impact against the cold molecules, as if a fine silk had been split with a razor.

Siris paused, looking at the Blade he held in front of him, now shining in the obscurity that wrapped everything. How terribly beautiful was the Blade! The fog was rising. And he heard them: the Titans were coming.

But he, Siris, was now holding the Infinity Blade. Suddenly the Blade was lighter, its handle fitting tight in his hand. As he slained the first Titan, with one blow, in a shower of dark light, his thoughts were to the Worker of Secrets, who had, eons ago, forged the Blade.

Daily Prompt: Shake it Up

You’re 12 years old. It’s your birthday. Write for ten minutes on that memory. GO. Photographers, artists, poets: show us RECKLESS.

His friends were there, it was a good party. But he wished, he prayed, he wanted it to happen.

There was enough noise in the little room not to worry: they were all having fun. But still he wanted it so much…

He was courteous, attentive, laughed with the others, even danced with Suzy. But what he wanted to do…

There was a minute of peace, he heard footsteps…

And she was there, at the door, the long red hair, the lips, the look.

“Hi” he said, trying to control his breathing. “Hi” she said, smiling, “happy birthday!”

And they danced.

Weekly Writing Challenge: 1,000 Words

Emptiness

Photo: by Cheri Lucas Rowlands

Story inspired by Cheri’s picture, and an episode of Infinity Blade III.

Cautiously they move along the vaulted corridor, to their left the late sunlight breaking through the high inaccessible windows, to their right the ancient wall, in front of them the increasing darkness. An icy air is blowing towards them from the depths, at times punctuated with powdery red-hot ashes.

Patterns on the grey granite of the floor remain unreadable, perhaps the guiding marks of some ceremony. They know so little about the deathless: here is their kingdom, and there is no doubt they will resent the intrusion, the violation of their domain.

A piercing shriek resonates through the arches: Isa and Siris stop, silent, frozen in the crouching position, swords drawn. There is now no other sound than their breathing, nothing moves other than, slowly, the slight mist coming out of their lungs.

The air is now colder, as they resume their march, and get closer to the obscurity…

Just as they reach the last arch, still lit by the declining rays of the sun, they see an opening on the wall, away from the light. The bricks disappear, replaced by older stones: fearless, they chose to walk in that direction.

“There is still some light,” says Isa, “it must be coming from somewhere…”

The floor is now uneven, and to the geometry of the bricked arches has succeeded the irregular surfaces of an ancient tunnel. They realise that the floor is gradually edging down, a slow gradient which means they are leaving the upper structure of the castle to enter the subterranean world of the deathless.

Isa’s foot hits a light object on the floor: it’s a bone. Soon they walk through layers of bones of all sizes and evidently human. “Here we come”, says Siris, as they reach a circular space, with multiple corridors branching out of it. In its centre is a small platform, anchored on a metallic pole which rises through the ceiling. “We’ll have to wait,” says Isa, “that’s a lift, I expect one of them to come down just there, and others to appear from those corners.”

Siris smiles. Swords in hand, they wait, back to back, the way of the Samurais.

As the first Titan appears, they kiss – and holding their blades low, they wait for the first blow. Soon they are surrounded. Soon the old stones are covered with the dark blood of the slain Titans. Again and again the monsters try to separate them, and fail. More Titans are disgorged from the corridors, but as the space is too narrow, only a handful of them at a time can face the couple.

So it comes that Isa and Siris are surrounded by the bodies of the Titans. Their only way out is the lift. They edge their way toward it: they are now standing on it, keeping the nearest monsters at bay. Obediently the small platform rises up: through a narrow opening of the high ceiling they reach a vertical column. It leads to the Worker’s room. And there he is, flanked by Raidriar.

“Welcome to my humble dwelling”, he says with a snarl. Silently Isa and Siris take their positions: Isa will deal with Raidriar, and Siris with the Worker. If one of them fails, they will have to do the journey again through those empty corridors…

#FiveSentenceFiction: Letters

Letters ~ Vault of Tears

He lived only for them, in the deep dungeon they kept him in, for there was nothing else that could keep his will to fight on.

Long ago he had stopped counting days, then weeks, then months.

Then years, yes, he remembered the end of the first year, when he had decided, against all odds, that he would stay to read them.

At his core, his strength remained, unaltered, for he was deathless, as she knew, but still a prisoner.

Then, one night, he heard the sound of rock grinding on rock: and there she was , standing in front of him, the author of so many letters, his lover, his saviour.

Inspired by the character of Isa, who freed Siris from the Vault of Tears, in “Redemption” by Brendon Sanderson.

#FiveSentenceFiction: Erased

You saved Siris from eternal solitude in the Vault of Tears, and, now, you’re fighting at his side.

In the old ruins, guarded by hideous Deathless monsters, you clear your mind, erase any other thought.

In that world, one mistake, one hesitation, costs your life, no less.

Your silent steps go unheeded, all your senses alert…

You are Isa, and you have been reborn.

#AtoZChallenge: April 22, 2013 ~ Siris & Galahad

I have written about you, and you continue to intrigue me. You are the young peasant who defeats the Titans, and Isa’s friend, or are you? Or are you Ausar, who, in the mists of times, imprisoned the Worker of Secret? Ausar is also another of Osiris’ s names. For some weeks I have entertained another possibility: that you may be a reflection of Galahad, one of the three achievers of the Grail of the legend…

This would befit you: for naive you are as he was, fearless, and I guess, of no experience at all with women. Galahad the Preux was a virgin, the immaculate son of Lancelot and Elaine, who treacherously appeared as Guinevere to Lancelot… Your father forgave your mother, but you, his son, had only one goal: The Grail.

Tennyson wrote “My good blade carves the casques of men…” for you… And, yes, this reminds me of the Infinity Blade…

The Camelot Project at the University of Rochester

#AtoZChallenge: April 10, 2013 ~ Isa

You are Siris’ little helper, and, I suspect, secret sweetheart. You are smart, fast on your feet, and a deadly shot with your crossbow. Often you have saved his life, often you have tricked the God King, that evil creature.

But what I’d really like is to have you in the fight against the Titans. I have even written about it!

“Isa suddenly froze, turning forward, coming alert.

Siris cut himself off, loosening the Infinity Blade in its sheath. What was that? Voices, he thought.

Isa pointed. “Ahead, I think.”…”

~ From “Infinity Blade, Awakening” by Brandon Sanderson.

Hugo nomination for The Emperor’s Soul