A meaningless short story

[Vigil StarGazer]

Talen Tyranus Cromyere

 

Nothing has changed in the aged courtyard: the vines had intertwined the walls as if it was a part of the structure, the flowers still blossomed in their midnight fragrance, and the timeless oaks still stood as rays of moonlight penetrated through the leaves to the worn stone grounds. Yet there was change, and the change was in Talen himself. Three years ago on this very night he was here, the son of house Cormyere, loyal subject to the Tawdonian Emperor. The festival of rise of Olt had the lords and ladies into a drunken sluggishness. Talen hand too much himself and had to release some back quickly into nature by pissing behind a tree when he heard a giggle behind his back. He quickly finished and pulled up his pants to see a beautiful young girl behind him. One of her pupil was a glistening as an emeralds and her other one was as deep as the sea.

“Margaery!” a shrilling voice called. She smiled, and ran toward the voice…

 

The invited guests were so many and in a crowd so large that few would recognize. Three months had past and Talen had send out word for the mysterious young lady but not a whisper came back. Yet cruel twist of fate had allowed the two to meet again. When Talen’s uncle announced that her daughter should spend time with her kinfolk before being send off to House Faile, Talen obliged to be the guardian before her marriage. It was moments later when Talen realized that the lady that spied on him pissing that night was no other then his cousin Margaery. In the months that followed Talen grew to know her beautiful within more then without. The lass was a gentle soul blessed by Ney. It pains him that he and she are so close, too close that it shall never be. Yet honour and duty above all else had kept him silent. He wore his smiles with vigilance. Yet the short months had past he felt the same pain, for now she would be gone forever. On that fateful day Talen stood beside Nicolaus Faile was wedded to Margaery Cormyere in the same courtyard where they first met. Talen had met Nicolaus the first time, he was tall and handsome, with a dark secretly smile always on his face. Margaery was dressed in a lavished silken white dress that enhanced her gracefulness even as it draped the floor. Her bright eyes sparkled even beneath the thin veil. The night was a drunken haze again as the wedding feast commenced; soon enough Talen retreated into a dark grove of oaks and drank himself to unconsciousness. When he woke up he was in a dungeon, chained like a prisoner.

 

On the third day of his imprisonment, Talen had a visitor.

“So how fare are you, murderer?” The voice was vaguely familiar, but Talen could not place it.

“I am not a murderer!” Talen exclaimed. “I am Talen Cormyere, and I demand to see my father!”

“Cormyere you are not, wild Islander! You are not citizen of the Tawdonian Empire.” said the voice. “but I’ll bring you to see your father soon enough, You will soon share his grave!”

Talen jumped at once, his hands reaching out of the bar to grab the man behind it. Guards rushed to jab their spears at Talen’s ribs, but already he had seen the speaker’s face.

“Sim takes you Nicolaus Faile!” Talen screamed. “What have I done to you? What have I ever done to you!?!”

 

The food that night was especially good tonight. The prison tray carried a jug of wine, a whole chicken, and a freshly baked potato. He knew he would be executed tomorrow, but there was no hope in escaping. Feeling useless, he fell asleep until a gentle hand woke him. He had wondered if it was already time for him to die when in the darkness he saw a pair of familiar eyes upon him. He recognized the green emerald and the deep blue sea in those irises of hers. Talen wrapped his arms around Margaery as she cooed and rocked him gently as a child.

 

Again they passed through the Cormyere’s courtyard, this time in the deep silence of the night. Lady Cormyere sat on one of the stone benches as Talen knelt down before her.

“No, Talen.” She said, even as she smoothen his hair. “You are not my child. I was found to be barren months after my marriage to your father, I mean Duke Cormyere. Yet he refused to married another. It was a dark time in the Frontier, where a vicious band of Crescent Islander known as the Sharks Clan constantly raided the borders every summer. Duke Cormyere was placed in charged to defend our land against those seasoned barbarians, and in desperation he led a raid against the Shark’s land himself. Two thousand Tawdonian soldiers with the Orders of Talon were sent against three hundred ferocious Sharks to ambush the raiders in the cold distant north before their yearly descend to our land. My lord himself earned a huge battle scar right along his back, but at last the day is won and the raids came no more. The raiders that were send out against us were down to a single child, a babe wrapped in linen cloth along with a silver sword. Both the sword and the child he claimed his own, and that child is you Talen.”

Talen sobbed.

“House Cormyere was always a vigilant house that serves the emperor, refusing to play politics when possible. Thus over the years we have gained a high standing among the Senate. The reason that we adopted you was that we do not wish for this pillar of the empire to crumble. While you do not carry our blood, you carried the family name and the honour of the house for us. Yet somehow the cunning the Earl of Faile had known of your origins. The marriage was just a ruse for house Faile. Now with only Margaery to carry the line the house of Faile will absorb Cormyere, and that must not come to pass.”

Lady Cormyere took a silver blade from behind the stone bench and handed it to Talen. The design was crude and plain, but yet the beauty was within the blade itself. It was a blade designed simply to kill, falling short main or dismember.

“This blade was found beside you when we found a child amist in the aftermath of the battlefield. We have no way of knowing, but I’m sure this blade are meant for you someday. Now swore on your life that you will protect Margaery and run away as far as possible.”

“But what about you, Aunt Claire?”

“I’ll be fine.” Lady Cormyere smiled at Margaery. “Not even those talons of Faile dared touch me with their beaks. Now go.”

 

The gate was a stride within reach, but Margery and Talen could not move a step now that the guards surrounded them with marksmen aiming their arrows toward the two.

“So the uncivilized Islander has another crime on his head,” Nicolaus Faile’s voice was sharp with distain. “Release my wife and I’ll make sure you don’t suffer.”

“You killed my father,” Talen replied.

Nicolaus laughed, “Who knows who killed your true father?”

“I demand a trial by combat!”

“By Nos’ name you will die!” Nicolaus dismounted and drew his long sword. Talen found the silver blade readily in his hands.

“Wait!” Margaery cried as she stood between the two. Both of them gasped and turned toward her. “Let him go and I shall come with you.”

“Go!” Margaery turned toward Talen and shield him from arrows or steel. She pulled him close. “I’ve always loved you,” she whispered in his ears and then pushed Talen out into the darkness, and quickly she pulled the mechanism to shut the gates. Nicolaus grabbed the girl and pulled her away as Talen screamed. “I’ll come back for you, Margaery! I’ll come back for you I promise.” The guards began to release their arrows, and Talen fled into the night.

 

Thirteen months of wandering in the wilderness has taught him one thing: he was not prepared for the wilderness. Water he had scarcely found and games he could not catch. So at last he laid on the open road waiting for the guards to kill him, for he knew they were on his trail. Within broad daylight six travellers came toward his direction, but at one glance he knew they were sent for him. They had not even bothered to switch Imperial marked weapons. Dogs were with the team of assassins, probably used to track his scent down, and the beasts look hungry for flesh.

“Talen Cormyere?”

“Yes.” He answered and closed his eyes to await death when there screamed a war cry.

Before the guards could turn a figure slew three. Two hideous sword lashes ended the guards’ life silently. A dog flanked the man’s rear as another guard rushed forward with his pike, but the stranger kicked the dog up in the air toward the oncoming guard, a sword thrust ran through both bodies. The remaining two guards and another dog fled with his tail between his legs. The stranger threw both his swords into their general direction and in another second two screams was heard from a distant.

 

The stranger looked toward Talen and Talen gazed back at him. It was then Talen realized they both have the same darker skins. The thick wolf pelt on his back, the thick worn boots, and the crudely crafted swords was just as his father described them when he told stories of his battles. The man must be a wildman of the Shark clan. He pointed toward Talen’s silver sword and then made a grab for it. Talen seized the blade before he does and was rewarded with a kick in the ribs. Talen used the momentum to rolled to safety just to see the stranger grabbed two blades from the dead body. The stranger did not tried to kill him, but tested and played with Talen with his two swords. Talen himself received many hits from the flat of his blade. When sun sets in the west the stranger left with a canteen and some dried meat, retrieved his swords and went his way. Too tried to wander far, Talen built himself a fire and rested for the evening. The next day the strange Crescent Islander came again, this time with two wooden swords. At once they began to spar until twilight. Little by little Talen began to learn the ways of this stranger, and at the same time the Crescent Islander known as Colbey Calistansson began to know him.

“Teach me the ways of the swords, so I may seek revenge.” Talen asked Colbey one day.

“It will be hard, brother.” The wildling replied. “Flesh and bones does not make a Shark. You are still too much of a soft folk inside you. You want to learn the ways of the swords? Fine, but we must not allow you to disgrace the name. A True Swordsmen never strikes at the weak and the helpless; a True Shark is not a coward who hides behind magic, armor or shield but faces their enemy man to man and blade to blade; a True Shark must never surrender, but to fight gloriously to the very end. Do you understand enough to be worthy of the blade you carry?”

“I do.”

“No you do not, but Talen of Cormyere have already learned enough to face against these city weaklings. Go and exact your vengeance.”

 

And so that is why he is here tonight. Three years had passed and now he found himself on this very courtyard. He recognized every single cobblestone underneath his heel as he stride silently to the bedchamber where Nicolaus Faile should be. He woke the man with a blade before his throat. The same silver blade glistered in the moonlight reflecting the man’s horrid face. Beside him another figure stirred.

“Talen.” Margaery gasped in astonglishing disbelief.

“Draw steel, Nicolaus!” Talen shouted. “I will give you the chance to fight to the death!”

And so he did, drawing a long sword from a secret compartment beneath his bed. It was a long exhausting battle but at last Talen disarmed Nicolaus’ sword and caught it in mid air just as the Colbey had taught him. “Now prepare to meet your maker.” Talen thrust both swords in.

“No!” Margaery managed to scramble between the two. In a little crib beside the bed a baby began to cry.

“Your child?” Talen was stunned beyond words.

“Yes,” Margaery answered, “and if you killed him the child will be fatherless. I asked this for you once, and now I will ask this of you. Please don’t kill him for whatever he has done… he is now my husband.” Her pleading eyes stared at Talen, the watery iris reminded him the first night he saw her. The air seems to linger in a haze, filled with memories and the had-beens.

Behind Margaery, Nicolaus snickered.

And finally in that moment Talen understand. He stepped back to see the innocent child, letting his little hands clang to his finger. He glanced at Margaery again, and her lips mouthed the same words last time she left him. He smiled at least in some satisfaction., turned away, and disappeared into the night.

 

Dawn came for everyone, and Colbey smiled when Talen came back without blood tainted on his sword. His smiles broaden as Talen told the man his last confrontation with his past.

The Cresent Islander seeing the swords has been tampered at last, placed an arm around on his shoulder, and whispered in his ears. “You are one of us now, swords brother.”

So Colbey, Talen, and another companion set out forth to ventured in the world. They wandered around the land searching for adventures and when they heard of Carreg Wynn they traveled for many months to reach the place renowned for glory in danger. They will surely find adventures there.

[Wyvern]

A nice character background, Lord of the Gay, though it's marred by grammatical errors and a few abrupt changes of pace...

 

While I know you're not a big fan of grammar, there are certain moments in the story where the grammatical errors render the plotline somewhat confusing to the reader. A good example of this would be near the beginning of the story, where it is noted that " On that fateful day Talen stood beside Nicolaus Faile was wedded to Margaery Cormyere in the same courtyard where they first met." This sentence left me confused about who was married, and it wasn't until later in the story that I realized it was Nicolaus. I would highly recommend going back through the story and editting for grammar.

 

There were also a few moments in the story where I felt that the dramatic shifts in plot were somewhat abrupt, a good example of this being when it switches from Colbey's advice to three years later in the bedchamber of Nicolaus. In that sense, I feel that if this story were expanded a bit it could be better.

 

Never the less, it was an interesting and entertaining character background overall...

[Peredhil]

heh.

The grammar needs work yes, but Wyvern already addressed that.

This is a nice character 'dump', getting it out and on paper, shaping and defining the character as you go.

I do lots of these, then go back through and decided what to keep and what to pitch - and I must say, yours reads MUCH more coherently than mine tend to read! Mine tend to be a stream-of-conscious babble like:

 

"So he's the youngest of seven - no wait! make him the only child of dead parents (plot hook - who were they, how died?) and is the youngest foster child of seven other kids (making him eighth (limited resources? who the others? what family relationships? any special gifts?) and youngest.

finds out when he's 12 that he isn't the birth child (Steve Martin the Jerk? naw, focus!)) perhaps from a parent? trigger event from dead parent's past? thrown in an argument from an elder sibling to establish crumbling dominance?

 

So, as you can see, this is a MUCH better writing than I tend to do!

[Illianna Wolfsong]

My side hurts from laughing, Peredhil!!!

 

In a not too far removed time in my life, I actually had hopes (and perhaps a shot) at being a published writer. I was adopted (figuratively) by an author/editor/publisher friend, and my letters to him would be my latest revisions and his replies would look like Perdhil's above example.

 

I would read his chopped up version of my story, his suggestions, his comments, corrections, critisisms, and tangents... and my head would swim.

 

Poor Peredhil, to have my friend in his head hopping in between each phrase.

 

offers Peredhil some Dramamine