Categories > Original > Fantasy > The Pools of Vaisha: Book One
Cerawyn hid in the dark, watching her people be slaughtered and burned. Smoke burned her eyes, which were on the verge of overflowing with tears. She felt sobs try to rack at her body, and suppressed them. Fear had forced her out of a Pool, and sadness kept her away from it.
Armored men hacked into any one who moved, be it man woman or child, and all she could do was watch. Their armor was darker than most, and their blades slick with blood. Still, both gleamed in the moonlight and fire like ice would. Three men marched in front of her, oblivious to her existence. Foolishly, she let out a cry. The men were no longer ignorant of her presence and spun on their heels to face the wall of darkness she hid behind.
Oh, Lord of Vaisha. No!
Her legs began to shake when the men began to draw their swords. The sound of the metal scraping against the sheath took over the sounds of the carnage and destruction. The three crept forward slowly and cautiously. Cera was deaf to all sounds.
And then she breathed as she practiced since she was a child. All of her fear and sadness floated away and dissolved, making her senses more acute. She was in front of a Pool. And the power of Vaisha flowed into her when she treaded into it.
The three in front of her were weak. She could tell that much by a glance. She took a drink from the Pool, and a strong gust of wind came from behind her. The men were thrown to their butts, which was as much as she could do to run from them.
She got five steps out of the shadows when the men were up again. This time it was too late—there were five more men blocking her path.
She stepped out of the Pool. The chances of escaping were almost non existent. She had accepted death.
She heard a shout from above and a streak of black came across her vision, and two men fell, blood gushing out of their torso. Cera felt like hurling.
The Blade Master Thandrel walked between the men and her. His sword was drawn as well, but instead of the hard look of a killer, an expression of pain lay on his face. He turned to her.
“Are you alright, Your Highness?” he asked, though he wasn’t really paying attention to her. His purpose was to scare the already frightened soldiers. His gaze returned to them without waiting for an answer. “If you men so much as look at this lady the wrong way, I will take the heads off of your shoulders.” The words dripped with anger.
The men’s faces went pale, and then the fled. Master Thandrel looked back at Cera and the pained look was gone, replaced by a look void of all emotion.
“What are you doing out here?” he said. His words were cold now.
Cera gathered herself. “I was told to find someone. Ordered, by the king.”
Thandrel ran a hand through his long, unrestricted black hair. He looked around at the destruction. All of the soldiers were gone, and dead bodies were laid out, soaking the roads with blood.
“Then we’ll go find this boy. Seraph is his name, right?”
Cera’s eyes widened. How did he know? She forced the question from her mind. “You’re right. I guess I’ve got no choice but to stick with you…”
“No, you really don’t.”
He started walking, stepping over the bodies of the citizens. Cera followed after him.
Armored men hacked into any one who moved, be it man woman or child, and all she could do was watch. Their armor was darker than most, and their blades slick with blood. Still, both gleamed in the moonlight and fire like ice would. Three men marched in front of her, oblivious to her existence. Foolishly, she let out a cry. The men were no longer ignorant of her presence and spun on their heels to face the wall of darkness she hid behind.
Oh, Lord of Vaisha. No!
Her legs began to shake when the men began to draw their swords. The sound of the metal scraping against the sheath took over the sounds of the carnage and destruction. The three crept forward slowly and cautiously. Cera was deaf to all sounds.
And then she breathed as she practiced since she was a child. All of her fear and sadness floated away and dissolved, making her senses more acute. She was in front of a Pool. And the power of Vaisha flowed into her when she treaded into it.
The three in front of her were weak. She could tell that much by a glance. She took a drink from the Pool, and a strong gust of wind came from behind her. The men were thrown to their butts, which was as much as she could do to run from them.
She got five steps out of the shadows when the men were up again. This time it was too late—there were five more men blocking her path.
She stepped out of the Pool. The chances of escaping were almost non existent. She had accepted death.
She heard a shout from above and a streak of black came across her vision, and two men fell, blood gushing out of their torso. Cera felt like hurling.
The Blade Master Thandrel walked between the men and her. His sword was drawn as well, but instead of the hard look of a killer, an expression of pain lay on his face. He turned to her.
“Are you alright, Your Highness?” he asked, though he wasn’t really paying attention to her. His purpose was to scare the already frightened soldiers. His gaze returned to them without waiting for an answer. “If you men so much as look at this lady the wrong way, I will take the heads off of your shoulders.” The words dripped with anger.
The men’s faces went pale, and then the fled. Master Thandrel looked back at Cera and the pained look was gone, replaced by a look void of all emotion.
“What are you doing out here?” he said. His words were cold now.
Cera gathered herself. “I was told to find someone. Ordered, by the king.”
Thandrel ran a hand through his long, unrestricted black hair. He looked around at the destruction. All of the soldiers were gone, and dead bodies were laid out, soaking the roads with blood.
“Then we’ll go find this boy. Seraph is his name, right?”
Cera’s eyes widened. How did he know? She forced the question from her mind. “You’re right. I guess I’ve got no choice but to stick with you…”
“No, you really don’t.”
He started walking, stepping over the bodies of the citizens. Cera followed after him.
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