Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The Amazing Trio

So I decided, as my apology gift to all of our wonderful readers, to post my most advanced, and most well liked, story. This is the only story of mine that I think may actually become a full fledged book at some point in my life. Anyway, it is a fantasy storyline so if you aren't into the whole Eragon-Harry Potter-Narnia typed stuff, well this probably isn't for you. 

The Warrior, The Rogue, and The Healer

The thunder clouds overhead loomed over him. Thunder boomed some distance away. Lightning lit up the sky. He stood, sword gleaming in his hand, above the wrecked city. His pistol was at his side and a bow and quiver was slung across his back. His red aura slowly entered, left, and re-entered his body, a sporadic display of color.
            The healer leaned over a third figure as the warrior looked upon the city. The healer’s blue aura exited her body and was funneled through her hand into the comrade’s dying body. Life slowly returned to him.
            “How is he?” asked the warrior in harsh voice, without turning around.
            “The rogue? He’ll live,” replied the more tender voice of the healer.
            “Then we leave.” The warrior left his previous post and walked across the rocky surface, his boots clomping in the rain and blood.
            The rogue started to rise, his black aura shimmering slightly, like a faint and dying candle on a windy night. “Here let me help you up.” The healer bent down and put the rouge’s arm over her shoulder. The rogue was only semi-conscious of what was happening.
            “Where are we headed?” asked the rogue in a faint voice.
            “After the survivors,” replied the warrior.
            “Why? We already scattered their forces. They won’t last long among the marshes.”
            The warrior stopped walking. He turned around, “In case you don’t remember, they killed the king, my wife, your children and Sarah’s coven. They may die soon but I’d rather kill them myself and know when and how they died.”
            The rogue went quiet. He limped along, leaning on the healer for support.
            “Yes?” replied the healer.
            “Do you have a map of the marshes?”
            “Yea, here,” Sarah dug into her pack and withdrew a scroll, “It’s old, fifty years past practical use.”
            “It’ll work.” The warrior took the map and opened it. After a few moments he rolled it up and handed it back to Sarah. “North,” was all he needed to say.


Oh and here is a little factoid for those who like trivia. The story started as a way to keep me from being bored after and exam my freshman year of high school. The first five to six paragraphs was actually written during that time frame. Everything else, and believe me there is a whole lot more come (hint, hint), was crafted at a later date.

~Anora Anakaya~

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