Haven't Got a Title for Story
Here is the first chapter of my novel. Might get it printed when done. Hope for best seller. xP. Anyways, my English is not so great but I manage. Please feel free to post my mistakes and change the sentences for better meaning. Thanks and enjoy reading it as much I enjoying writing it.
1
New Beginnings
The sun scorched over the sandy desert like a vast wave less ocean. The lifeless silence and solitude that it portrayed couldn’t be lonelier in such a place. There wasn’t the faintest breath of air stirring and not a merciful cloud in the entire brilliant blue sky. There was not a sound, not a sigh, not a whisper; not a buzz or a whir of wings or the distant pipe of a bird: not even a sob from the lost souls that would cry for their very survival.
A skeletal hand broke the surface with a fast thrust. Then it started claw at the sand revealing the rest of the beggar like figure. The man like figure looked at his hand saw the torn flesh. He smiled at the look of his hand and saw that the insects had a good meal. His jaw however was dull and loose like a hinge. Out of all that he was thirsty. The figure continued to crawl through the desert.
Moments later he could now see how one sees water in the desert. It was hinted in curves of the sand. He began to see the bare crevices of the desert bore many faces, and each of them laughed at him mockingly. In the sand he spotted corals and shells and rocks which contained a small essence of water. He sighed as the water evaporated from the tips of his fingertips. There wasn’t enough for him to drink. The man scowled at the sun for making his life a misery. He tried to divert the idea of dying by thinking of other things. He tried to think of who he was but couldn’t. He couldn’t remember his name. After thinking long and hard only two words sprung to mind, ‘Arch-mage.’ He just couldn’t remember who he was. All he could do now was to try and find a way of this desert. The desert was hot. It was unbearable. The man was literally scared of it. He felt a feeling being kidnap and cannot escape the evil clutches of the desert.
He didn’t know how far he had crawled but night had come. It was very cold night and it was soothing. He would prefer some sort of bed to snuggle up to. He was happy that the sun was off his back. As the man stopped to breathe deeply, he managed to catch a vile stench. He sniffed out the source of it and realized that it was himself. It was the smell of rotting flesh. He began to cough and felt sick. He could not believe that he was kept awake from his own rotting flesh. He closed his eyes staring at his own dark night sky and eventually fell a sleep.
In the morning the man awakes and sees that the stars were gone and he was still alive. He continued to crawl again pushing the thought that he was gone to die out in the middle of no where-alone. Unexpectedly a cloud of dust stomped on his face. The man spitted and coughed out the sands. In doing so he smelt soft leather and was to face to face with a black soft leather boot. He couldn’t make out the stranger’s face because of glare, but he did shade him from the sun. The man could still feel the burning light penetrating through the darkness roasting his back. The sun was back stronger than ever. The stranger’s black cloak made him look slightly menacing. “Are you in need of aid old man?” the stranger said. The man couldn’t see his face and accepted the fact that he was old man with a sigh. “My name is Kazaf; my camel can get you back to the city.” Kazaf also offered a hand to pull him up. The man accepted it with a wrinkled hand. Unexpectedly the man’s teeth grew into fangs and instinctively went for Kazaf’s neck.
****
Two rich robed figures were strolling along the river side of the Waterfront. They both rambled at the small huts and the civilians living there. Every one who lived here was poor and asked the two figures to spare a coin. One of them gave out copper coins and was thanked by his kindness. “You have to watch amongst these parts, Arch-mage,” said the other. “Doing that will attract thieves and pickpockets.”
“You worry too much Milgar,” said the Arch-mage and waited for Milgar to frown. “In every city there are thieves and beggars. There is no denying it. They are only doing this for their very own survival. I cannot believe in a beautiful city such as the Imperial City can hold such a place and the rich will not lift a finger to help. It is unjust. If our steward wasn’t so afraid of magic, I would have tried and convince him to help these people.” Milgar made a short laugh.
“Why you care, Arch-mage?” said Milgar and watched the Arch-mage snapped his fingers. A white glow lit from the tip of his finger and he tapped his throat. “You know a Listening spell will not protect you from strong magic wielders.” Milgar did the same followed by another frown.
“I once lived with no gold and it is not pleasant,” the Arch-mage said. “The Waterfront is the safest place in the Imperial City; at least we are away from crazy-frenzy Orcs, tall-pointed ears snobbish elves and the hairy-greedy dwarves.”
“You say these things in these parts,” Milgar said in shock. “You will be killed for sure.” The Arch-mage roared with laughter and shook his head. “They say there a dragon in these parts. Dragons have the strongest grasp of magic and can break through our Listening spells. You shouldn’t say things like that.” The Arch-mage gave a loud laugh clutching his stomach, which everyone nearby heard nothing. They would only see the two men making strange gestures at each other.
“Don’t be silly, dragons and sea monsters! I think this is just keeping the guards at bay,” Arch-mage said. “I haven’t heard any reports of dead guards been eaten by monsters. Unless this monster of the deep is shy and is afraid of us.”
“What is it you wish to talk about?” Milgar said. The Arch-mage looked at his reflection in the water and out of habit ran his fingers through his long silver hair. He saw that he had aged so much over the years. “Arch-mage, what is you wish to ask me and why here?”
“Milgar, we are friends; you don’t need to address me as Arch-mage,” the Arch-mage said breaking from his trance. Milgar frowned. “I came here because it is less busy and it a low probability of bumping into another magic wielder.”
“Go on Ramirez,” Milgar said looking for any listeners about. His eyes darted at every corner. The beggars had strangely stopped surrounding them for coins. Ramirez started walk along the river side and Milgar stopped with his paranoia.
“I will disappear for a period of time,” Ramirez eventually said. “You have heard that the King of Worms has returned.”
“That is impossible; we locked him in the tomb, destroying his very existence and performed the proper rituals in the middle of no where,” Milgar said. “Either someone helped him out or he must be…Orc.”
“That is Nonsense!” Ramirez replied. “King of Worms is not an Orc.”
“I am sorry, Ramirez,” Milgar said. “I mean there is an Orc in-between that rock.” He pointed at the rock and Ramirez dashed up to it. He looked down at the light-green skinned Orc baby. The Arch-mage turned back at Milgar with a giant grin. With no surprise Milgar was not pleased with this and produced a frown back.
“This Orc fits perfectly in my plan,” Ramirez said. “Orc mothers abandon their children to survive on their own. This is what makes them so stubborn and strong willed. Most of them don’t make it to adult hood. Clearly this Orc has potential.” Milgar looked signs of magic dust emulating from the Orc. He could see none.
“I don’t see any potential in this Orc,” Milgar said. “Orcs are naturally born warriors not magic wielders. I don’t mean to offend you Arch-mage but clearly you are mistaken.” He took another look at the Orc just to make sure. There was no magic ability at all. Ramirez cast a pink glow on his hand and sent it into the Orc. Abruptly a surge of energy was transferred to the Orc. Ramirez fell to one knee when it was over. Milgar helped him up and Ramirez gestured with his head to check for magic potential. Milgar frowned and said, “He does now, you gave up your magic for this Orc. You are the first of the Arch-mage line to do this. Most of them would hold on to this power to their dying breath. I cannot understand why?”
“Where I am going, I don’t need magic,” Ramirez said with a smile. He steadied himself shaking from the feeling of dizziness. “I am going into the Aetaz. Anyway, Orcs have some ritual magic which is passed from family generation. This is not what I am after. I plan to make the very first battle mage. The magic wielders nowadays won’t hold a resistance to magic. With the right training this Orc will stand a chance against magic as well as use it.”
“You know that no school will accept this Orc,” said Milgar. “The Elves will be furious in breaking their tradition.” He studied Ramirez looking for a smirk. He was hoping that was all a joke. “I have watched you master the art of Illusion to Grandmaster level. From all that work passed into an Orc for some future battle mage is a waste.” He sighed.
“I have the headmaster of a school right in front me,” Ramirez said putting a hand on Milgar’s shoulder. Milgar grumbled and groaned in reply. “Go to the Arcane University and inside the archives, you will find a ring. Nothing to fancy; it is just a simple gold ring. It will cloak the Orc’s appearance to look like a human being. I remember the day where it came to my possession.” He gave a short laugh and continued to say. “It happened on my visit to the Windvale Mage Guild. They reported some ghost was haunting the guild. There were reports of things being moved and footsteps in the night. Turned out to be Goblin shaman wearing this ring as the image of a human mage and it planned to steal magic for its own race…”
“That is spectacular, Ramirez,” Milgar interrupted. “But why you seek the Aetaz?”
“Milgar, you are full of questions today,” Ramirez laughed. “I am going to see Eärendur Erlenstar. I do enjoy our conversations and this time I tend to stay to learn about his way of ancient magic. Maybe Eärendur knows some ritual to turn me a magic wielder again. Maybe I can alter his death and without messing up the present too much.” Milgar wasn’t so sure. He didn’t trust the Aetaz. He didn’t know much about it and wasn’t eager to find out either. He was told that one could talk to someone in the past or future without altering any events in the past, present and future. He always kept the phrase close: the less I know the better. He picked up the Orc child. Ramirez smiled at Milgar and they both headed out of the Waterfront.
A blue scaled dragon surfaced from the water and communicated to her rider typically, ‘Did you hear that Kasumi. Maybe we can use this Aetaz device to locate Eärendur.’ Although the dragon was in plain sight no one on the shore could see it.
‘There is no need, Ophelia, we don’t need to get involved in these matters,’ replied back a voice. ‘Come to the palace, there is something I need to show you.’ The dragon submerged back in the water without causing a tide over the lands. Once the dragon reached a certain distance away from the Waterfront, the creature soared in the sky with a mighty flap of her wings. A little boy spotted the dragon in the sky and tried to get his mother to see. The mother of the boy refused to look and said that the dragons had disappeared a long time ago. The boy was angry at his mother for thinking that he was telling lies. With all that bottled anger, sparks of fire smoked from his hand.
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