I’ve been working hard to reinvigorate my writing outside of World of Warcraft. As much as I love my work at WoW Insider, I can’t limit myself to that. Starting Nitpixels with a few friends was part of that renewal of my writing, but I’m working on another project as well, which I mentioned very briefly in my last post. It’s a fiction project. I’ve been building this world bit by bit for years now, and every time I take the project up I put a little bit more into it and spend some energy bringing it up to my current standards. What I expect out of my writing now is far above and beyond what I expected out of it four, five years ago. I’ve finally decided I’ve reached the point where I can try to tackle this seriously.
I’m still not completely happy with my writing, especially when it comes to fiction, but there comes a point where you just have to roll with it. I’ve decided to put a snippet of the story here for anybody to read. It’s the very beginning of this first story — the initial few chapters will cover this girl’s childhood, very briefly, to set the stage for who she is from that point forward. Who she is, where she’s from, and why she is where she is.
Enjoy! Or don’t.
***
My father was a shoemaker, and though I was just a girl, I spent my days toiling away, helping the man with his work. Countless hours were spent treating leather or piercing eyelets in half-finished boots. It hadn’t been that way until my grandfather died. While he still lived, he would whisk me away from my father’s grasp and my hours were spent learning my letters and other such things — herbs and medicines so I might never grow ill or the stars and moons so I might never be lost. All the while, he told me tales of gods and heroes If I learned well, he would teach me swordplay with branches he had whittled smooth. Father had never approved of such things. The daughter of a shoemaker could not live off of stars or blades. He supposed I would grow to be a brigand, poisoning and knifing my way through life. He put an end to my learning when my grandfather passed.
I hated my father for it. I hated my mother and my siblings just as much. Only my father had done a thing to earn my ire, but I hated them all because of it.
It was a dreary day, the day I decided to be done with it all. I merely stood up from my table and strode out of the dingy cellar, without so much as a word to or from my father, who had been working within arm’s length. Whether he didn’t notice or simply did not care, I was unsure. I kept a steady pace long enough to be certain he would not follow me, and then I ran.
Honeywind, the town where I lived, was once elven territory before humanity pushed them back behind the Everwood. It was sprawling but sparse, with homes dotting rolling green hills, each with a dirt and gravel path leading to the town square down in the valley. Travelers always admired the beauty of our village, but it seemed to me whatever beauty was in that land had been tarnished by the ramshackle cabins, barns and stables littering the hills in all directions. That beauty was also the last thing on my mind as I ran as quickly as I could down the dirt road to salvation.
The air had been cool and damp and it only got worse as I ran. Clouds grew thick overhead, dark and boiling. Just as quickly, the rain came. It poured over the hills, soaking me to the bone before I’d gotten anywhere near the town square below. I would not slow and pressed on, even as the dirt beneath my feet turned to mud. The winds howled and I could feel water running off of the end of my nose.
I ran for hours, and it seemed as if it would never end. By the time I’d arrived, the square had emptied. All of the folk that usually populated the town center during the day had retreated indoors to escape the weather. The man I was searching for, however, had not yet fled as the others had. He was exactly where grandfather’s stories told me he would be.
My run slowed to barely a walk as I tried to catch my breath. One of Honeywind’s inns stood tall before me. Honey’s Rest, it was called, and a bed was etched upon a sign above the door for those that hadn’t learned their letters yet. More importantly, a smalller sign hung low off of that one: Khalin’s Flame, a symbol proclaiming that traveling members of the Order could rest at no charge. Directly beside the inn was a small stable, large enough for only three, maybe four horses or mules. There was the man I sought.
“Theodor!” I shouted. “Grandmaster!” I tried to run again, but my legs refused, so I did little better than stumble forth until I reached the small stable.
The old man was tending to a horse, likely his own, for he was certainly no stablehand. He hardly cast me a glance after all of my shouting, he just continued on brushing the stallion — most certainly a warhorse — it was built much larger than anything we had around Honeywind.
“Grandmaster,” I called out again. I’d started to find my breath, but the man’s disinterested glance made me feel uneasy. “I wish to speak with you.”
Theodor turned, assessing me before he said one single word. It only added to my unease. I was just a girl. Short and thin, angles and lines, out of breath with muddy boots and dripping wet clothes, and my hair wrapped about my head in a sopping mess. Theodor, on the other hand, stood tall and proud despite the hunch age had brought to his back. Thinning hair and thick beard were both white as snow. His eyes were wrinkled, wisened and noble. He frowned at me, the frown even showing in his eyes and the lines of his forehead. “What is it, child?”
I shivered, both from cold and fear alike. I knew it, and I knew the grandmaster could see it. I weathered it. I knew I had no other option, or I’d have wasted my only chance to leave this dour little cillage.
“I wish to serve my king, grandmaster,” I spoke loudly, clearly — perhaps a little louder than necessary, as I drew on whatever courage I still had.
The man turned back to his horse and was quiet. The bridle and bit were hung on their rack. I stood cold and growing colder, damning myself for not taking an overcoat with me when I fled. Theodor was quiet for what felt like a very long time to a child’s mind. I endured. It was a bit longer before he turned to me again.
He clasped his hands behind his back. “How do you expect to serve your king, and how am I to help you?”
“I wish to join the Order. I wish to serve as my grandfather served, my lord.”
“The Order? You’re young yet, girl. Besides, I do not oversee the priestesses. You’ll need to run through the pouring rain to find my wife.” Theodor lost his frown and I could hear amusement behind his voice. “Lucky for you, she will likely have more pity for a soaking wet child than I.”
“No, sir. I told you,” my voice began to fade, but I forced it as clear as I could. Nerves were breaking into my words. “I wish to serve as my grandfather served. I wish to be a Champion.”
“A Champion?” Theodor did laugh, now. It was a true, jovial laugh. This was not a man that hid his emotions in his old age, I realized, if he had ever done so to begin with. “You have the blood of a Champion in your veins, do you?”
“I do, sir.” I licked water off of my lip in some foolish hope that the rain would understand the gesture, and cease running from my face. “My grandfather’s name was Michael. He died, sir.”
Theodor’s voice fell to a whisper. “Michael. The Lionheart?”
“I only knew him as Michael, sir, but his shield did have a lion upon it. I would show you if I could. It was given to me, but my father took it from me and sold it for coin.”
Theodor motioned me deeper into the stable, so I could fully remove myself from the downpour. He sat down upon a dirty and notched stool that had been left nearby. His joints popped and snapped as he lowered himself down. He beckoned me closer still. I obeyed. He spoke softer now, but it was more commanding than ever. “What is your name, child?”
“Arnesca, sir.” I began. “Though my grandfather would call me Arna and I liked that much better.”
“Your grandfather called me Theo,” the grandmaster said. He looked much older suddenly, and his wisened old eyes spoke of pain. His shoulders began to sag. “He was a good man, Arna. You say his shield is gone?”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded once. “My father sold it.”
Anger crept into Theodor’s words. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“He told me my grandfather was an old fool. A fool that cared only for himself. After he died, my father wanted no part of him near us.” I met the old man’s eyes. I added gravely, “I could not stop him. He is my father.”
“Your father is wrong,” the old man spoke more angrily.
“I know, but he is still my father.”
Theodor was quiet for some time again, sitting on that stool. The dark of the storm was becoming the true dark of night as I waited for him to speak again, but the man just looked between me and the ground, perhaps toiling in ancient memories. I knew that if my father wasn’t yet searching for me, he soon would be. I could not waste any more time. I chose to break the silence, repeating my earlier request. “I wish to join the Order. I wish to serve as my grandfather served.”
“Yes.” Theodor’s voice had fallen quiet enough that I could barely hear him over the falling rain. “Yes,” he repeated himself. “You are certain?”
“My grandfather told me to let no one decide my fate for me. It is my decision alone. I am to walk the path I wish to walk,” I licked water from my lip again. “I wish to walk this one, sir.”
“It will hurt you.” Theodor hesitated a moment before adding, “Your body and your heart.”
“I will endure.”
“You speak bravely for a girl so young, Arna. And well.”
“My grandfather taught me my letters.”
“I will go to your father. I leave for the City in two days. Can you say your farewells by then?”
I felt very tired suddenly. I don’t know if it was my body or my emotions making me so weary, but it didn’t matter. I was tired all the same, and I couldn’t hide my fear from the grandmaster any longer. “Can we leave faster? My father will be angry with me. I’ve gotten my shoes muddy.”
Theodor found humor in that.