Post by Shadow on Dec 11, 2006 9:37:00 GMT -5
Here is chapter one of my new novel. I will post some more of it if anyone is interested just yell and I'll post it . I have only wrote up to chapter 5. Ah yes I gave it a rating of PG13 for violence. So if you are scared easy I warned ya lol!
Shadow
Chapter 1: Branded
He stood staring through a slit window in the castle's main turret, it hardly let any light in. The soldiers used it for shooting their arrows through. He was looking outside over the hill wondering what life was like beyond the castle walls. It must be amazing some of the older slaves talked about it all of the time: trees and grass beneath your feet the rain and wind against your face, what he would do to feel those elements. Not that they would ever be experienced by him; not when he was stuck behind the grotty walls of a castle which was as good as prison to him and many others.
It was through no fault of his own that he was there. He'd had no choice in the matter and had been at the castle all of his life or so he was told by the lord that owned the castle. All he knew was his mother had died when he was born and his father had been a common worthless drunk that did not have a job; they said his father had committed suicide. The thought of why his father had committed suicide always crossed his mind, only the lord of the castle could tell him that and his lord did not give out information freely. So as a result he had been looked after by the slaves of this castle then when he had grown old enough been forced to slave as well. It was most unfortunate but the only life he knew or was possible to have.
"Starin' out at tha' hill again? If the master catches you you're in for it," said Mary giving him a clip round the ear.
Rubbing his red ear in mainly irritation he looked round at Mary, a maid who worked in the castle.Not a very pretty maid at that, in fact she was ugly with her wiry hair in a tightened up bun and an extremely sour look on her wrinkled face; with her ugliness came a wicked mind, she treated him and the other slaves in a cruel manner. Well did not everyone? Slaves were as low as you could get. Yes he was in everyone else's eyes something nasty stuck to the bottom of a boot.
"Well get goin' then Slave," Mary smirked giving him a kick as he passed.
Hurriedly he ran down the stairs trying his absolute best not to trip up over Mary's foot as he went by, but to no success; he ended up falling all the way down the windy staircase and landing in a heap at the bottom. As he picked himself up he heard Mary laughing at him as she carried on her way.
Slave that was his name, a long with many others who were made to slave away in the castle. Everyone always called him slave so that was his name. Not a pleasant name but still a name and everyone needed some form of name to go by.
Having finished polishing the dungeons for the day he was going back to the chamber where all the slaves stayed when their work was done. He had supposed to have been back there an hour ago but had snook off up to that turret so he could have a look at his hill. He called it his hill because one day he wanted to go there, step on that grass.
The chamber he was made to live in was below the dungeons, it was even below the torture chamber. The lowest place for the lowest people in all of Vortex. Vortex was the world he lived in, the land ruled by two main empires. He was part of an empire which was supposedly the wrong evil one; he did not know that much about it but what he did know from some of the older slaves was that the other empire, which he did not belong to did not have slaves. That sounded like a heavenly place to him and he wished that was the empire he belonged too.
Quietly he tried to blend into the background of the hall he was in; he was great at blending into dark places and this hall sure was dark. This was a dangerous place to be. Slaves were not supposed to come any further up than the dungeons. Not that it stopped him, he had to see outside now and again, otherwise the darkness would drive him to madness. Never had he been caught yet, only by Mary but Mary was no threat. The master of the castle was always threatening her, telling her she would be a slave if she made a nuisance of herself; that involved talking to him, so she avoided him all the time.
All that was about to change now. It was extremely dark because someone had forgotten to light the torches that were fixed to the wall in their brackets. Slave thought that this would work to his advantage so had let his guard down. Letting his guard down had been a bad idea. He'd had no idea that someone else was in that passageway; walked slap bang straight into them.
"What is this?" murmured the master of the castle groping at Slave's shoulders feeling the ragged material
Slave stood shaking in fear. He would know the sound of that deep evil voice anywhere. He was in for it now. If a slave got caught above the dungeons they were either tortured or killed, depending on how useful they were.
"A slave," he bellowed giving Slave a sharp slap across the face.
"I'm sorry sir. Pppplease don't hurt me," stuttered Slave.
"What is vermin such as yourself doing above the dungeons?" his master asked giving him a shake.
"I well I I I I I lost my way," Slave said feeling his heart pounding.
"Hrm really? How long have you been here? his master humored him.
"Too long," murmured Slave. His master caught those words and shook him even harder causing his teeth to rattle.
"Mind of your own? That we can not be having," smiled his master darkly.
Slave found himself whimpering as his master clutched hold of his arm and began dragging him through the castle. He was in for it now, speaking back standing up for yourself was never good, it always ended in tears. They turned into another passageway where there was some light; the torches were lit and flickering.
Light that was no good. He had hid what they had not given him for so long now. Hurriedly he shook his long black hair over his face hoping it would hide it. If anything out of his panic he had made a mistake; trying to cover his face had aroused attention
"What are you doing?" asked his master who had noticed him trying to cover up his face with his hair.
Slave did not say anything. His action had gotten him in trouble and he did not want his mouth getting him deeper into trouble. Trying to pretend he had not been covering up his face on purpose he focused on the dancing flames in one of the torches.
His master swept a hand across his grubby face, shifting his greasy black hair. "I see. You've not yet been branded."
Slave felt his heart get even heavier than it already had been to begin with. He had escaped having the mark all other slaves bore for so long, not no more. His master had seen him without a brand, that meant it was his turn to get one.
"Come I do not own you forever if you do not have the mark," smirked his master yanking him in the direction that he wanted him to go.
Slave was made to follow his master all the way down to the dungeons. It was the journey of death. He saw it as the end of his identity. Once that brand was planted on his face he would be owned and would never get to that hill. They soon got to the dungeons and when they were there he stood quivering. His master ordered two soldiers to come get hold of him. When they had him they carried on through the dungeons and into the dreaded torture chamber.
The torture chamber was one of the worst places imaginable. He stood in the center of the room and stared at sharp metal spikes that were used to taunt people with, chains littered the floor and there was also a stretching rack and other evil devices of torture. He drew his eyes away from the metal spikes and watched his master lighting a fire in a furnace that was down there. Sheer instinct was making him try to shake the soldiers from off of him. Only it was not working, all it did was make them laugh and smirk at him. They were so much stronger than he was there was no way he could get free.
"Don't brand me! Please sir," he squealed as his master came at him waving around a rod with a piping hot metal symbol on the end of it. One of the soldiers grabbed hold of his head and held it still. Slave closed his eyes tight shut when the gleaming red brand made contact with his cheek; screamed in pain as it was forced onto his flesh, creating a large S on his face.
It hurt so much and the pain brought tears to his eyes. He blinked them back not wanting his master to see him cry. This was awful and he would have to live in this castle forever with the brand of a slave on his face for all to see. Even if one day he escaped the castle he would always be seen as a slave; so what was the point in trying to go?
As the rod was taken away from his cheek he could still feel the S burning into him. His torture did not end there. The punishment for being above the dungeons still had not come to pass. Slave thought being branded was punishment enough but that was not how life worked. The soldiers made him walk down a flight of stairs, down the stairs to where the slaves and rats lingered. His master was leading the way with a whip in his hands, a whip he had picked up on the way out of the torture chamber.
"This is what you dirty creatures get for coming above your station," his master announced to all the slaves that were sat in the chamber.
Slave looked at all the other slaves feeling extremely shaky. They were all looking at him back. Why would someone not help him? Stand up for him? If they all fought against the so called master then they could over throw him. No one would ever do that and he was only one person, a child at that. He could do nothing. Nothing except take what was coming to him.
The soldiers pulled the ragged grey shirt off of him and threw it to the floor. Slave gulped he wished he had a rag or something to bite into. This he did not get. When the first thrash made contact with his back he bit his tongue and screamed. His tongue was in pain and his backs pain was even more unbearable. His master did not stop at one thrash, he got about twelve. All thrashes drew blood and each one deformed him. The pain told him that he would be left with scars, it must be impossible not to gain them.
When done being half thrashed to death he was thrown aside landing on the cold flags of stone. A couple of the slaves made to come help him but a wicked glare from that master of theirs stopped them. Slave did not mind too much he would rather be alone at the moment. He waited until his master was safely out of the chamber and up the stone stairs before bursting into tears. He lay on the floor crying and shaking his head at people when they came to try comfort him. Their sympathy he did not want; they were all cowards for not helping him. If they really cared they would not have sat and watched him get whipped, without even attempting to help.
"You gonna get up?" asked a slave who called himself Charlie. Some of the slaves had already got names before they had been enslaved.
"Leave me alone," sobbed Slave running a cold hand over his hot burning brand.
"O'ny tryin' to help boy. Not my fault you go places you shouldn't," Charlie said.
Slave did not agree with Charlie at all he should be allowed to go anywhere he wanted. He had always gone wherever he wanted even though he was not allowed, problem being this time he had gotten caught.
Even though he did not want Charlie's help he got it. Charlie picked up his shirt that resembled rags and put it him on, covering up the bloody whip lashes; gave him a chunk of stale bread as well. Still sobbing he sat up and attempted to eat silently, he was always hungry but had learned to live with it.
"Will I ever see outside these walls?" Slave cried looking at Charlie through glassy eyes.
"I doubt it," Charlie sighed placing an arm round Slave's shoulders.
"Tell me about out there. Out in Vortex," Slave said hopefully he enjoyed hearing about life outside the castle walls. It never failed to cheer him up.
"I told you millions of times already. Not again. It hurts," Charlie said shaking his head.
"It can't hurt as much as I'm hurtin,'" said Slave wiping away his tears and trying to control his watery eyes.
"Alright I'll tell you when you finished eatin'. But it's last time mind," said Charlie.
Slave soon finished eating his hard chunk of bread on account of there was not much there. When he had done Charlie lay him down on a rotten old blanket and whispered softly to him about life outside the castle walls. "In the spring and summer months the sun shines bright an' in the autumn and winter the nights sky is always beautiful. Canopy o' stars. 'Course there's fightin' and war to go with it but with that war comes heroes, famous warriors an' soldiers. You've got your elves too. Now they're a pretty sight. The good empire is fightin' for us. Maybe you'll live to see better days."
When Charlie had finished speaking Slave closed his eyes and wondered what it would be like to see that canopy of stars and elves too. He would so much love to meet an elf. Not that that would ever happen to him. He was stuck in the castle forever that brand now made sure of it. Feeling helpless he fell asleep with his back hurting and cheek weeping.
Shadow
Chapter 1: Branded
He stood staring through a slit window in the castle's main turret, it hardly let any light in. The soldiers used it for shooting their arrows through. He was looking outside over the hill wondering what life was like beyond the castle walls. It must be amazing some of the older slaves talked about it all of the time: trees and grass beneath your feet the rain and wind against your face, what he would do to feel those elements. Not that they would ever be experienced by him; not when he was stuck behind the grotty walls of a castle which was as good as prison to him and many others.
It was through no fault of his own that he was there. He'd had no choice in the matter and had been at the castle all of his life or so he was told by the lord that owned the castle. All he knew was his mother had died when he was born and his father had been a common worthless drunk that did not have a job; they said his father had committed suicide. The thought of why his father had committed suicide always crossed his mind, only the lord of the castle could tell him that and his lord did not give out information freely. So as a result he had been looked after by the slaves of this castle then when he had grown old enough been forced to slave as well. It was most unfortunate but the only life he knew or was possible to have.
"Starin' out at tha' hill again? If the master catches you you're in for it," said Mary giving him a clip round the ear.
Rubbing his red ear in mainly irritation he looked round at Mary, a maid who worked in the castle.Not a very pretty maid at that, in fact she was ugly with her wiry hair in a tightened up bun and an extremely sour look on her wrinkled face; with her ugliness came a wicked mind, she treated him and the other slaves in a cruel manner. Well did not everyone? Slaves were as low as you could get. Yes he was in everyone else's eyes something nasty stuck to the bottom of a boot.
"Well get goin' then Slave," Mary smirked giving him a kick as he passed.
Hurriedly he ran down the stairs trying his absolute best not to trip up over Mary's foot as he went by, but to no success; he ended up falling all the way down the windy staircase and landing in a heap at the bottom. As he picked himself up he heard Mary laughing at him as she carried on her way.
Slave that was his name, a long with many others who were made to slave away in the castle. Everyone always called him slave so that was his name. Not a pleasant name but still a name and everyone needed some form of name to go by.
Having finished polishing the dungeons for the day he was going back to the chamber where all the slaves stayed when their work was done. He had supposed to have been back there an hour ago but had snook off up to that turret so he could have a look at his hill. He called it his hill because one day he wanted to go there, step on that grass.
The chamber he was made to live in was below the dungeons, it was even below the torture chamber. The lowest place for the lowest people in all of Vortex. Vortex was the world he lived in, the land ruled by two main empires. He was part of an empire which was supposedly the wrong evil one; he did not know that much about it but what he did know from some of the older slaves was that the other empire, which he did not belong to did not have slaves. That sounded like a heavenly place to him and he wished that was the empire he belonged too.
Quietly he tried to blend into the background of the hall he was in; he was great at blending into dark places and this hall sure was dark. This was a dangerous place to be. Slaves were not supposed to come any further up than the dungeons. Not that it stopped him, he had to see outside now and again, otherwise the darkness would drive him to madness. Never had he been caught yet, only by Mary but Mary was no threat. The master of the castle was always threatening her, telling her she would be a slave if she made a nuisance of herself; that involved talking to him, so she avoided him all the time.
All that was about to change now. It was extremely dark because someone had forgotten to light the torches that were fixed to the wall in their brackets. Slave thought that this would work to his advantage so had let his guard down. Letting his guard down had been a bad idea. He'd had no idea that someone else was in that passageway; walked slap bang straight into them.
"What is this?" murmured the master of the castle groping at Slave's shoulders feeling the ragged material
Slave stood shaking in fear. He would know the sound of that deep evil voice anywhere. He was in for it now. If a slave got caught above the dungeons they were either tortured or killed, depending on how useful they were.
"A slave," he bellowed giving Slave a sharp slap across the face.
"I'm sorry sir. Pppplease don't hurt me," stuttered Slave.
"What is vermin such as yourself doing above the dungeons?" his master asked giving him a shake.
"I well I I I I I lost my way," Slave said feeling his heart pounding.
"Hrm really? How long have you been here? his master humored him.
"Too long," murmured Slave. His master caught those words and shook him even harder causing his teeth to rattle.
"Mind of your own? That we can not be having," smiled his master darkly.
Slave found himself whimpering as his master clutched hold of his arm and began dragging him through the castle. He was in for it now, speaking back standing up for yourself was never good, it always ended in tears. They turned into another passageway where there was some light; the torches were lit and flickering.
Light that was no good. He had hid what they had not given him for so long now. Hurriedly he shook his long black hair over his face hoping it would hide it. If anything out of his panic he had made a mistake; trying to cover his face had aroused attention
"What are you doing?" asked his master who had noticed him trying to cover up his face with his hair.
Slave did not say anything. His action had gotten him in trouble and he did not want his mouth getting him deeper into trouble. Trying to pretend he had not been covering up his face on purpose he focused on the dancing flames in one of the torches.
His master swept a hand across his grubby face, shifting his greasy black hair. "I see. You've not yet been branded."
Slave felt his heart get even heavier than it already had been to begin with. He had escaped having the mark all other slaves bore for so long, not no more. His master had seen him without a brand, that meant it was his turn to get one.
"Come I do not own you forever if you do not have the mark," smirked his master yanking him in the direction that he wanted him to go.
Slave was made to follow his master all the way down to the dungeons. It was the journey of death. He saw it as the end of his identity. Once that brand was planted on his face he would be owned and would never get to that hill. They soon got to the dungeons and when they were there he stood quivering. His master ordered two soldiers to come get hold of him. When they had him they carried on through the dungeons and into the dreaded torture chamber.
The torture chamber was one of the worst places imaginable. He stood in the center of the room and stared at sharp metal spikes that were used to taunt people with, chains littered the floor and there was also a stretching rack and other evil devices of torture. He drew his eyes away from the metal spikes and watched his master lighting a fire in a furnace that was down there. Sheer instinct was making him try to shake the soldiers from off of him. Only it was not working, all it did was make them laugh and smirk at him. They were so much stronger than he was there was no way he could get free.
"Don't brand me! Please sir," he squealed as his master came at him waving around a rod with a piping hot metal symbol on the end of it. One of the soldiers grabbed hold of his head and held it still. Slave closed his eyes tight shut when the gleaming red brand made contact with his cheek; screamed in pain as it was forced onto his flesh, creating a large S on his face.
It hurt so much and the pain brought tears to his eyes. He blinked them back not wanting his master to see him cry. This was awful and he would have to live in this castle forever with the brand of a slave on his face for all to see. Even if one day he escaped the castle he would always be seen as a slave; so what was the point in trying to go?
As the rod was taken away from his cheek he could still feel the S burning into him. His torture did not end there. The punishment for being above the dungeons still had not come to pass. Slave thought being branded was punishment enough but that was not how life worked. The soldiers made him walk down a flight of stairs, down the stairs to where the slaves and rats lingered. His master was leading the way with a whip in his hands, a whip he had picked up on the way out of the torture chamber.
"This is what you dirty creatures get for coming above your station," his master announced to all the slaves that were sat in the chamber.
Slave looked at all the other slaves feeling extremely shaky. They were all looking at him back. Why would someone not help him? Stand up for him? If they all fought against the so called master then they could over throw him. No one would ever do that and he was only one person, a child at that. He could do nothing. Nothing except take what was coming to him.
The soldiers pulled the ragged grey shirt off of him and threw it to the floor. Slave gulped he wished he had a rag or something to bite into. This he did not get. When the first thrash made contact with his back he bit his tongue and screamed. His tongue was in pain and his backs pain was even more unbearable. His master did not stop at one thrash, he got about twelve. All thrashes drew blood and each one deformed him. The pain told him that he would be left with scars, it must be impossible not to gain them.
When done being half thrashed to death he was thrown aside landing on the cold flags of stone. A couple of the slaves made to come help him but a wicked glare from that master of theirs stopped them. Slave did not mind too much he would rather be alone at the moment. He waited until his master was safely out of the chamber and up the stone stairs before bursting into tears. He lay on the floor crying and shaking his head at people when they came to try comfort him. Their sympathy he did not want; they were all cowards for not helping him. If they really cared they would not have sat and watched him get whipped, without even attempting to help.
"You gonna get up?" asked a slave who called himself Charlie. Some of the slaves had already got names before they had been enslaved.
"Leave me alone," sobbed Slave running a cold hand over his hot burning brand.
"O'ny tryin' to help boy. Not my fault you go places you shouldn't," Charlie said.
Slave did not agree with Charlie at all he should be allowed to go anywhere he wanted. He had always gone wherever he wanted even though he was not allowed, problem being this time he had gotten caught.
Even though he did not want Charlie's help he got it. Charlie picked up his shirt that resembled rags and put it him on, covering up the bloody whip lashes; gave him a chunk of stale bread as well. Still sobbing he sat up and attempted to eat silently, he was always hungry but had learned to live with it.
"Will I ever see outside these walls?" Slave cried looking at Charlie through glassy eyes.
"I doubt it," Charlie sighed placing an arm round Slave's shoulders.
"Tell me about out there. Out in Vortex," Slave said hopefully he enjoyed hearing about life outside the castle walls. It never failed to cheer him up.
"I told you millions of times already. Not again. It hurts," Charlie said shaking his head.
"It can't hurt as much as I'm hurtin,'" said Slave wiping away his tears and trying to control his watery eyes.
"Alright I'll tell you when you finished eatin'. But it's last time mind," said Charlie.
Slave soon finished eating his hard chunk of bread on account of there was not much there. When he had done Charlie lay him down on a rotten old blanket and whispered softly to him about life outside the castle walls. "In the spring and summer months the sun shines bright an' in the autumn and winter the nights sky is always beautiful. Canopy o' stars. 'Course there's fightin' and war to go with it but with that war comes heroes, famous warriors an' soldiers. You've got your elves too. Now they're a pretty sight. The good empire is fightin' for us. Maybe you'll live to see better days."
When Charlie had finished speaking Slave closed his eyes and wondered what it would be like to see that canopy of stars and elves too. He would so much love to meet an elf. Not that that would ever happen to him. He was stuck in the castle forever that brand now made sure of it. Feeling helpless he fell asleep with his back hurting and cheek weeping.