| This is something I've written as what I like to call the alpha version of the first chapter of the novel I'm really slowly writing. It was a simple demonstation to myself that I can, actually, write when I try (though I can't really agree that this one is good enough - the new version is simply better and doesn't look anything like this one.) It is rushed, and has a few ideas (more than a few if you know where to look) completely ripped off from various places. I will most likely not continue this, but pointing out the grammar errors and sentences that just doesn't quite make sense is more than welcome. Whatever. I'm just posting this because I feel like posting this. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- First came the Epoch of Titans. They roamed the Gaea with their humongous bodies, built magnificent, colossal cities, but soon was the land torn apart with war and slaughtering. Then came the Epoch of Dragons. Their magical powers allowed them massive cities with complete control on Gaea. Over all, except for themselves. No one to reign over them, dragonic empires soon fell, utterly destroyed by their own kinsman. The dragons fell into a deep slumber, perhaps never to wake up again. Now it is the Epoch of Elves. In what looks like a fairly peaceful age, Gaea has once again prospered in the hands of the elves. But the Council of White, the Divine Knights, a group of many names, sometimes called simply the Angels, have other plans for them. Except for a single one that stands on the others' way. Car'lon eyed the other seven curiously. As much as they seemed uninterested in others' affairs, they were, with Car'lon's. Perhaps it was impossible for them to look over his actions. Perhaps it was impossible for him to look over their actions. This late in the game, it did not matter. Perhaps it never did. Too many uncertainties. Not very surprising, anyway. “What do you mean I'm oblivious to the truth, Number 5? I was – am – one of the inscribers of the Codex myself. I know the Rules, I know them way too well, Greed.” He was getting impatient with all this opposition. How mad could one, much less seven go in a matter of few thousand years, Car'lon did not understand. Not that he wanted to, of course. “Ah, yet you dare to challenge them Rules? I had always known you were a fool, a huge, blind fool at that, but never had I thought you were this big of a fool. Not quite surprising, Number 8, but very . . . intriguing indeed.” Ridiculous as it may be, but they wouldn't be able to recreate the perfect race without the support of all 8 of the Heavenly Beings. Talk about making sense; this rule made none. To him. “Cut the nonsense, Greed.” Number 1's voice was calm enough to soothe a baby mare – Car'lon did not know how could he possibly sound calm in this situation – yet the other man obeyed. No, being Number 1 did not mean anything necessarily, but every single Being had some kind of a control over the others. Not too much to be absolute, of course – it was not their job – but not too less to be always overridden either. From the side came another support that hardly made Car'lon flinch. “Defending him if futile at best, and you know it as much as I – we – do, Number 1.” said Number 2 uninterestedly. The man seemed uninterested in anything short of a full-scale war. Not that it happened that often. Car'lon rolled his eyes, holding back a laugh that would've easily made the others take him as mad. Interfering with the lives of the inhabitants without the unanimous decision of all eight was forbidden. Car'lon doubted him following this Rule. Not that he himself was following the rules, but still . . . “Defend him?” went on Number 1, one eyebrow raised as if to question him, “I was merely telling an excited young man to act a bit more mature.” Car'lon suppressed another mad laughter. The angels, while having no such term as aging – it was something to counter the reproduction of the lesser beings – did possess the ability to change their appearance to whichever form necessary – and even unnecessary. Having chosen an old elf – Car'lon had of course had the appearance of a young and handsome elf – Pride seemed to think that he was actually older than the others. He certainly had more insight and experience about the lower races for he had actually lived side by side with all of them. Though, it did not seem to affect his attitude towards any of the so-called “imperfect” ones. Car'lon waited impatiently for others to finish their drawn-out conversations among themselves. He himself was a man of few words, not really excited by continuous babbling of others. He was paying attention to every single one of their words as his mind drifted off to various achievements he wanted to, and expected to have with the elven race. Those that the other seven did not think will be had. He was paying attention. A single word in the last few sentences caught his ears. Exile? That could not – should not – be true. Even the Number 6 hadn't got exiled after being the primary cause of the dragons' downfall – Car'lon did not even want to think about that incident. Opposing millions of the “lesser” beings seemed less of an offense than opposing just 7 Heavenly Beings, except that they both ended in brutal massacre of the lesser ones. Hardly fair. “What? Exile? Are you still sane, Number 7? Will you oppose me just –“ His sentence was cut short by the combined mutters of the other Holy Knights – their chants worked surprisingly well for a seven-way Bonding. “Is there anyone –“ Number 1 still though he was the head of the group “– that denies Car'lon's exile?” Nobody spoke a single word, including Car'lon, who had by now given up on struggling to get free. “Good, now we can start the ritual.” “I, Number 1, Pride, hereby exile Number 8, Car'lon.” The ritual of course was not as simple as that, but the beginning was. “I, Number 2, Envy, hereby exile Number 8, Car'lon.” “I, Number 3, Wrath, hereby exile Number 8, Car'lon.” “I, Number 4, Sloth, hereby exile Number 8, Car'lon.” “I, Number 5, Greed, hereby exile Number 8, Car'lon.” “I, Number 6, Gluttony, hereby exile Number 8, Car'lon.” “I, Number 7, Lust, hereby exile Number 8, Car'lon.” The seven began chanting the second part of the ritual, rising from a slow murmur to a loud prayer to a slow murmur to a loud prayer again, violent yet calming at the same time. Not so for Car'lon. The curse that bound his body was lifted, yet he knew anything he said now would fall on deaf ears. Not now, not after this deep into the Prayer of Creation and Destruction. Car'lon stormed out of the place as quick as his legs allowed him. He was not going to hear them! Yet the chant still filled his ears, his head, and eventually, his whole body. |
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