Fantasy Novel Sample
PROLOGUE:
It's a clear night out. Stars shimmer in the night sky like little diamonds. Your idle revere is interrupted by sounds of a small kerfuffle, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. You see your father all but dragging out an entranced woman from an ally to the side of the main road in which you're standing on.
There's barely a soul out and about in this damp and neglected corner of the outer city. The ones that are out are either too drunk or too high to notice anything.
“Come on, let's go,” says your father.
“Father, what is happening? What did you do to that woman!?”
He lets out a tired sigh that mists in the cold dark night, “You're old enough now, son. So It's my duty to pass my gift to you now. Gods know I should've done it before. I'll tell you more when we get home, so stay quiet, alright?”
You nod in the affirmative before moving to his side, stifling your curiosity and your growing apprehension as you start following your father through the damp winding alleyways of Saltrock. Gas lamps lighting your path. You never did like spending much time in the outer city, with its pungent odors and suffocating atmosphere.
Thankfully you're close to the exit. You leave without trouble, the half-awake guards barely noticing the somewhat odd spectacle of a scantily dressed woman being dragged about by a cloaked man with a child closely following.
You find yourself in your shanty apartment soon after. Filled with its damp walls, crumbling wallpaper, and the sound of scattering bugs, which is still better than your previous accommodations.
“Light a lamp and clear out the floor.”
You do as you're told, lighting a small gas lamp then bringing it to the living room, after which you start clearing out any junk on the floor.
After your father finishes moving the furniture he walks the woman—who has been standing slumped over like the dead risen—over to the middle of the room and gingerly places her down on the rough cut stone floor. She shows no fear, no reluctance. An unsettling smile rests on her face as if she's in perpetual ecstasy without a care in the world about what's happening around her.
Your father removes his tattered ebony cloak. His sun toned withered body glistens with sweat in the yellow lamplight. Tribal-like tattoos crisscrossing around from head to toe, covering almost all exposed skin.
He wastes no time getting to it, taking out some sort of chalk from his pocket; he starts drawing symbols that mean nothing to you around the woman while chanting in some language unknown to you. You are startled when the symbols begin to glow, slowly at first, but the more he chants the more they glow until they're almost hard to look at.
“Father,” you say, your voice shaking. “You are—”
“A sorcerer, son. I control the waves of magic just like those highborn bastards at the academy,” The corners of his mouth pull back into a snarl. “They outlawed our kind, hunted us like we were rabid dogs. I can feel them getting close as we speak. I'm not long for this world, son, but I'll do now what I should have done a long time ago. “Heh,” a distant smile settles on his face, “your mother always did say I was too late to action,” His smile evaporates as soon as it came, leaving a determined and resolute look on his face, “I do not have time to teach you as my father did to me. I will transfer my knowledge to you directly. The only thing those bastards are gonna get is a husk of a man.”
“What are you saying? Please father! Whose following you?”
Your father keels down on the floor in front of you, “Look at me son, I love you. I've loved you since the day I saw you as a babe in your mother's arms,” His eyes begin to water. “They've taken everything worth taking from me and now they are coming for us. But I won't let them take you, no matter what. You must live on for us son. Promise me this one thing.”
Your mind is a fog, you have no idea what you must say. You're frozen.
“Promise me!”
“I promise! I promise!” You cry out.
A strained, uneasy smile grows on his face, “Good.”
He gets up and goes to his cloak, taking out an ebony black, glass-like dagger that shimmers brilliantly in the dim lamplight.
Without pause, he goes near the lying woman—who by now looks like all life has been drained out of her—and cuts his palm letting his blood drip on the symbols on the floor as he begins chanting again.
“Father! Please, father, what are you doing!?”
He doesn't answer. You move to ask again but just as you do, your entire body starts to float. You want to panic but you can't, an unnatural calmness has overtaken you. You do not know if your eyes are betraying you but it feels like the whole world has darkened and is getting darker.
You try to shout for your father but he's gone, everything is gone. You're in an endless void. Thoughts that are not your own permeate your mind, slithering around like worms. Destroying the sanctity of your mind and rooting themselves deep inside without you getting any say in the matter.
“I'll always protect him.” “They're coming!” “I have to protect him.” “They're here!” “I'm sorry Emily.”
As soon as it came; it is gone. You feel a light breeze on your cheek as you stir from your slumber, dazed and confused at what the just happened and your surroundings. You're in a forest of green. A bed of leaves surrounds you as if it had saved you from a great fall.
You get up and try to get your bearings, but as if on cue, a sound like thunder reverberates through the land. You think it came from the direction of your home. You try to go towards the sound but can't, unnatural forces are compelling you to go in any direction but that. It's as if every fiber in your body is telling you to run, no, demanding that you run and never come back.
Try as you might you have no power here, so you obey and you run. You run as far as your malnourished legs will take you, tears streaming down your face.
With one last stray thought appearing in your mind.
“I love you, Damian.”