Welcome to Gaia! ::

Hey all. I'd like to share the prologue and first 3 chapters of my upcoming Epic Fantasy novel with y'all. I really appreciate honest feedback. Thanks and enjoy!

-Prologue-
Eve of Extinction
In a time of darkness where cruelty had the better hand, extinction was near and it became apparent that the world of Villis-Idun had become a shell of its former self. Once prosperous and bountiful with life, the barren wasteland of a world had been rapidly swallowed by a great evil. This undeniable malevolence was born from the heart of a man desperate for power. In his attempt to conquer all of Villis-Idun, he waged a cataclysmic war that would bring imminent destruction through the land. On the eve of the final battle, a last resistance of fighters armed themselves for their last night on Villis-Idun. They would fall into darkness and the great evil would rule over them.
The dawn of the final day as free people had arrived and the sun had not even broken the horizon before the battle began. Blood of good and evil forces splashed across the grassy plains where the final assault ensued. The great evil – the man with the dark heart stood atop a rocky throne and watched as his new world was created. The resistance had broken through the phalanx of dark creatures and charged for the evil lord. With a crackling laugh, he threw has hand into the air and brought death to those who opposed him. A massive streak of ethereal energy barreled across the resistance, leaving their bodies tattered and dismembered. The general of the resistance stood across the battlefield as he watched his men die. Blind with rage, he drew his sword and charged the evil hearted man in his final minute.
“This is where it ends…” the man hissed as he drew his hand up again, calling forth another barrage of ethereal energy. Then, something happened that the baneful hearted man did not expect. As he drew back to unleash the power, the energy sparked off and diminished from his hand. Again, the man tried to call forth his power and again, it failed him.
“You are undeserving of my power,” a calm voice spoke as it played through his head. “This is not how it will end.”
“Take the power back if you will,” the man shot back. “My work here is finished.”
In his last crackling laugh, the wicked man’s life was ended as the general leaped forward and thrust his sword into the base of his neck. The general stood and inch from the evil man as he pulled the sword back, unleashing a torrent of blood across his armor. The evil hearted man choked over wound with another laugh and fell forward onto the general’s feet. The evil that had threatened their world for many years was finally defeated.

--------------------------
-1-
The Warning

It has been two hundred and fifty years since the signing of the Proclamation of Civil Peace. This document was forged in the hopes of preventing war amongst the races of the world. After the defeat of the great evil, the cause of the war had become a mystery. Many searched for the reason as to why such a war brought upon them but all were unsuccessful. It was forgotten, lost to the memories of those who had valiantly fallen to protect the innocent and soon, it became only a grave tale for storytelling. But now, it was new age. Under the law set forth by the Proclamation of Civil Peace, each race had constructed their own empire, each capable of governing their given races with an absolute law. The races of the world had learned to coexist after the bloody war which almost destroyed their world. They were able to move freely at will from empire to empire. It was a peaceful time full of hope, dreams and exploration.
It is the year of the Enlightenment, foretold by the stars and recorded in historical manuscripts by scribes. Roughly two weeks into the passing of the moons, a young Chimra, or beastfolk had made a grand discovery. He had been exploring on his own and came to cross a massive cavern opening that led deep into the mountains. Peering into the bleak dampness of the cave, he thought to himself, What better way to explore than to trek through an ancient cave? He moved carefully through the cavern, avoiding large pillars of stone and hazardous paths into the darker regions where he dared not go. The tike soon stumbled upon what looked to be a large stone tablet that was preventing access to a certain area within the cavern. The young Chimra examined the tablet carefully, not able to decipher the worn and ancient dialect that was scratched onto its surface. It was an old language; one that was unfamiliar to him. Thinking the tablet was out of the ordinary, he searched the area around the stone barrier, eventually coming across a small opening towards the cavern floor. It had appeared that a piece of the tablet had broken off when it had been placed into position. It was barely large enough for the young Chimra to squeeze through but he managed to pull himself through to the opposite side. He now stood in a solute darkness, alone and cold. Deeper down the way, a faint but noticeable light burned, giving light to the area that had been blockaded by the tablet. The young adventurer moved swiftly in the direction of the light, not particularly favoring the darkness that surrounded him. Closer and closer the young Chimra went until he eventually broke into the massive chamber that was tucked away deep within the cavern. The new chamber was even more bleak and moist than the entry of the cavern, leaving the youngling with the same disposition he had earlier. Microscopic pixies fluttered about the large cavern in wayward patterns, appearing to be just as lost as he. They flocked to the torches that were lit all around the chamber.
What an unfavorable cavern, he thought silently. He walked over to the nearest torch and warmed his hands against it, making company for the pixies. I wonder who maintains this cavern, he thought again. It seems these torches have been freshly lit.
What caught the young Chimra’s eyes next would be something he would not soon forget. He turned from the warmth of the torch and looked further into the chamber. Roughly one hundred yards in front of him stood a colossal mural that stretched the entire height of the cavern. He moved closer, now only inches from it to examine his discovery. On the surface of the mural, he eyed a variety of pictures and words. To his dismay however, the pictures and words were not drawn in ink or paint but in blood. He examined the grim details of mural’s contents and came to recreate the startling story that it might have told.
At the top of the mural, painted in the dried blood was a pair of large looming eyes with a portrayal of a phasing moon beneath them. Beneath the eyes, a battle was being fought by the inhabitants of the Villis-Idun against a band of otherworldly monsters. The battle did not look promising as pictured in it were piles of bodies that littered the battlefield. The young Chimra’s eyes continued across the mural and came to an image that lifted his hopes slightly. This next image contained the otherworldly monsters and something new. Driving away the beasts were eight humans followed by four massive creatures, all blazing in pure white light. The final frame of the mural was eye level with the young adventurer. Still painted in the blood was message in the same ancient dialect that was scratched across the tablet from earlier. This time however, he understood the words. Dumbfounded by this change, he thought nothing of it as his eyes moved horizontally scrolling the message. With a gasp, he stumbled back on his own feet and fell to the ground, looking up in fear at the mural’s grave warning. The Chimra fumbled around, rose to his feet and fled from the chamber. The youngling pushed through the small hole in the tablet and made his way out of the cavern entrance, breathing hard as he dashed back to his village. Once safely in the village, he relayed the details of his discovery to the village Elder. There was no question involved with the young Chimra’s tale, for it seemed that the Elder believed what he told him.
On the same day, an urgent letter was immediately sent to the kingdom of Agress, the largest empire on the Northern Plain. It was relayed to Lord Pallanza Megistrate, the Twenty-Eighth King of the Humans. The very next day, a decision was made to call the races of the world together for conference on the youngling’s discovery. Joining the Humans, Elves, Dwarves and Chimra would in conference would the two other mixed races: the cunning and deadly Trapos, or snakefolk and the wise but brutal Azbarian, or dragonfolk. This matter would be brought to the attention and recorded by the High Council of Agress. If the events of the mural would come to pass, the world would be thrown into chaos. The Proclamation of Civil Peace would require fortification and the empires would need to galvanize their holds as the attack would come swiftly and without mercy. The message given forth by the wall painting stated that the assault of the horrid creatures would come again during the time of the double waning moons. However, there was one thing last thing that eluded Lord Pallanza. The existence of these creatures was thought to have been only a legend to scare younger children; a legend that originated from the Tale of the Nether Void, a place that was believed to be the epitome of darkness and evil. Not knowing what to think on the matter, the precautions were set and the conference was set to take place in two weeks time.

----------------------------
-2-
Unknown and Elusive

The two weeks passed and the day of the conference arrived. The kingdom of Agress was bustling more than ever on this day as merchants and business owners had hopes of drawing more people out for sales. While the Imperial Guards stood watch at the gates of the castle garden among other areas within the kingdom, a stranger hooded in black crept in quietly and undetected. Making his way to the nearest tavern, the stranger pushed through the swinging saloon style doors into the dimly lit interior. It was not the best day business but the regulars remained however, with note that the protest wasn’t their style. The stranger moved swiftly, almost gliding across the wooden planks of the floor to a nearby stool. The regulars watched in a disgruntled way as the hooded newcomer positioned his body upon a stool. After making himself comfortable in the warm tavern, the man reached deep into his cloak and shifted through a pocket in his garments. After a moment, the wanderer extracted five pearls which shined amazingly even in the poor lighting of the tavern. Two doors from behind the bar top swung open to reveal the keeper of the tavern, a pudgy yet tall man.
“‘Allo there,” grunted the large man as he approached the stranger from behind the bar. He moved in front of the stranger and took notice of the pearls that he was playing with but made no comment about them. “You, my hooded friend have stumbled upon the Amber Eye. I be Arnie, keeper of this tavern. What brings ya to me fine establishment?”
The stranger simply sat up from his hunched position and turned, looking across
the interior of the small run down pub. The tables seemed horribly rotted and the fireplace had bricks missing from its structure. An old piano sat quietly in the corner with webs, and their owners, as its only company. He returned back to his hunched position at the counter and replied to Arnie, “Indeed, a fine tavern.” Arnie leaned in slightly closer, taking notice that a heavy and hoarse breathing was coming from under the cloak. Unable to make anything more of the newcomer, he pulled a large mug from under the counter and set it down in front of the man.
“You seem tired there fella.” Arnie said to the man. “Let me get you a nice big mug of me finest ale?”
The stranger returned to the pearls that he’d set in front of him on the counter, not responding to Arnie’s offer. Instead, he set his hand on the bar top, gathering the pearls together and concealing them under his palm. The stranger proceeded to pick his hand up from the countertop slowly, moving it vertically into the air. He revealed the pearls again which were now stacked perfectly on top of each other. They sat there with perfection, remaining completely still even on the rough grain of the bar top.
“That’s quite a trick fella!” Arnie burst with excitement. “Aye, I know what y’ar. You gotta be one o’ them wanderin’ illusionists I keep hearin’ about.” Arnie leaned in even closer now to get a better look at the pearls. “They are mighty beaut’ful,” he said.
Arnie gasped slightly, feeling a sharp object press to his forehead. He rolled his eyes upward to see that the stranger had placed his clawed finger upon Arnie’s forehead. He dug it in slowly, pushing the large man away from the pearls. He winced at the pain of the long nail pushing into his skin. The stanger pulled his hand back to the pearls, sheltering them like a barrier.
“Don’t get too close,” whispered the stranger from under the hood. Arnie stepped
back from the mysterious stranger with the mug still in hand.
“Uh, yeah sure,” replied Arnie, still a little shaken by the tone of the stranger’s raspy and snakelike voice. “Um, would you like a drink now?” he asked again.
The man slid a single copper coin across the rough bar top, now revealing his hand which seemed completely normal with the exception of the off color, long fingernails.
“Fetch me what you can for this,” the stranger said as he threw a copper piece to Arnie. He caught it in his open hand and cut his act, seeing that the man was not going to return the same kindness he was offering.
“Ha!” Arnie bellowed loudly. “You can’t even fill up a quarta’ of the glass for that. It’ll cost ya much more than this here copper piece if ya want me to fill it to de’ brim.”
The stranger shifted his head up to see Arnie’s ugly face which now had a smirk
upon it.
“That’s quite alright,” hissed the voice from under the cloak. “I won’t even need a quarter of a glass.”
“Wha’ever you say chief,” barked Arnie as he slid the the copper piece into his pocket. He strode over to the nearest keg and popped off the top. Just to spite the man’s cheap offer, Arnie reached deep into the keg and lifted a handful of ale from it, cupping it in the palm of his grimy hand.
“I hope this isn’t too much,” Arnie said aloud, shaking the hand with ale in it. The men in the back were now howling with laughter as Arnie strode back to the
stranger and parked in front of him.
“Here y’ar my friend,” Arnie howled mockingly. “Less than quarter of a glass!” He tipped his hand over the glass, spilling the ale everywhere, barely getting any of it in the mug. The man sat quietly and returned the pearls to his pocket.
“I thank you for your generosity Arnie,” the man hissed. Arnie suddenly stopped laughing as the stranger pulled his entire arm from under the cloak and placed his hand atop the mug.
“What are you doin?” asked Arnie. The few drops of ale that managed to get into the mug began to bubble. “I asked you a question,” barked Arnie, angered by the man’s ignorance. The stranger continued to ignore Arnie. The bubbles in the glass began to crack and pop violently now. Then, there was a flash of intense light that caused Arnie to shield his eyes. The radiant light filtered throughout the entire tavern but only lasted a second before it vanished. Arnie took his hand away from his face and to his surprise, the stranger’s mug was now filled to the top with ale.
“Wha...what...how did you do that?” Arnie protested, seeing that the glass was indeed full, being that it wasn’t an illusion. The regulars in the back stood up from their table and made their way over to the stranger, also wondering how the man was able to pull off the trick. The largest of the men stood directly behind the stranger and put his large hand on his shoulder.
“Would you be so kind as to remove your hand from me and allow me to finish
my ale?” asked the hooded stranger to the large man.
“You ain’t finishin’ nothin’ pal!” Arnie roared in rage. “No one pulls tricks on Arnie and gets out of it easily!” A second man now grabbed hold of the stranger’s
other shoulder, making him sit up straight from his hunched position over the bar.
“This is your last and only warning,” the man hissed ominously. Growing tired of the stranger’s continuing ignorance, Arnie pulled his arm back far and smacked the mug of ale in front of him across the bar, landing it on the floor and shattering it. Arnie slammed his hands down hard on the bar, breaking into the grain.
“I want you out of my tavern freak!” Arnie bellowed loudly, motioning to the men behind the stranger. They pulled violently on the visitor’s shoulders but their grips were easily lost and the man remained on the stool. They were baffled but again they made to escort the stranger out of the tavern. As they went to grab the stranger again, he lashed around with lightning quick speed and drew a crescent shaped blade from under his cloak. In one quick spinning motion, he now held it in front of him in defense. The largest man stopped inches short of having the blade pierce his throat.
“I WILL be leaving now and I will NOT require any assistance!” growled the man, keeping focus on the men in front of him. The stranger turned his head slightly in Arnie’s direction as he felt a sharp object press into his back. It was barely noticeable through all the clothing he wore but it was a distinct feeling.
“If you try anything else pal, I’ll gut you like a wild boar,” growled Arnie from behind him, keeping his old hunting knife pressed firmly on him. With his sword still drawn, the man secretly delved deep into his cloak with his free hand and retrieved a handful of white powder. Almost instantly, with the men not being able to react, the stranger threw the powder at his feet. An ear piercing shriek echoed from the use of the powder and the weak pane windows cracked slightly due to the sharp sound. Two nearby guards that were patrolling that sector of the kingdom hastily made their way to the
tavern to check out the situation. As the first guard threw open the doors, the stranger
leapt out with great speed, sending both guards to the ground. The guards looked behind them to see the man come down with a thud and slide across the dirt on the cobblestone road. He whipped around quickly, sword at the ready as he watched the the guards lazily get to their feet, drawing their own weapons. By this time, the stranger had already pulled out a handful of blinding powder and released it directly into the eyes of the guards. Their swords dropped and clanged across the cobblestone as both guards viciously rubbed their eyes, trying to regain their vision. When their vision returned, the guards were left with no one to confront; the stranger had disappeared. Arnie and his men barreled their way outside into the blistering light of the afternoon sun to see the guards looking frantically in nearby crates and barrels. There was no sign of the elusive stranger in black.
“I want that punk found and strung up by his neck!” Arnie barked ferociously towards them. The guards sheathed their weapons and pulled themselves together in a professional matter, brushing the dirt from their garments and smoothing them straight.
“You know we can’t do that unless he is put on of trial first,” said one of the guards.
“I don’t care what you have to do! That weasel violated me tavern and I want something done about it!” Arnie had begun to cool down slightly after he had exploded with rage.
“We will do our best to recover the man,” said the second guard.
Now atop the tavern, the stranger looked over the side, observing the
remainder of the event that had just transpired. He watched the guards walk off in
opposite directions and Arnie stomp back into his tavern.
Brushing his hands of the blinding powder, he stood tall in the afternoon breeze with it ruffling his cloak ever so slightly.
It seems taking along that siren powder helped, he thought to himself. He fastened the small pouches and then threw them back into the pocket in his cloak. Reaching into an adjacent pocket, he made sure that the pearls were still safely in his care.
That didn’t go as expected. If they had known who I was, I am sure that would not have happened. But in my current state, they would not have recognized me. He saw the sun rising higher in the sky, signaling noon and realized he was late.
The man thought nothing more of the incident at the Amber Eye and took off across the rooftops. Leaping across the rooftops, his cloak ripped violently through the wind. He kept to the center of the buildings he was bounding from just to decrease the chances of anyone seeing him from below. The man knew he was getting close to the castle gates as he saw the parade of delegates march through the streets. He soared onto the last rooftop and stopped short of the ledge, leaping onto it and kneeling down low to avoid detection.
The stranger watched intently as the delegates of the Chimra and Azbarian Empires approached the gates first. The Chimra Elder was clothed in his billowy ceremonial garments as were his followers. Even though the scaled Azbarian King had battle scars on all parts of his body, his intricate bone plated armor hid the beast within. There were at least sixteen representatives from the Chimra and Azbarian alone. The Elves followed, looking as elegant as they ever did with their silvery hair blowing in the breeze. The stranger’s people had known the Elves for an extended period of time, even before the Magnus Wars. They kept good relations with the pure hearted beings, knowing that their strengths were always helpful in a time of need.
Al’endarr, the Lord of the Elf Realm had his hair done up in a lavish pony tail. He swept across the pathway with Elf maiden that followed behind him. The maiden’s beauty was remarkable and her robes contained the majestic colors of a rare rainbow powder essence. The Elf maiden’s hair was drawn into a magnificent weaving bun on her head with remaining strands of her silvery hair cascading over her shoulders. Another breeze blew softly and caused the man’s cloak to ruffle past him, revealing it over the ledge. The Elf maiden turned slowly in his direction. He quickly removed himself from his position on the ledge and hid on the rooftop, laying flat and holding down his cloak. He had forgotten how acute the hearing and sight of the elves were. She gazed at the rooftops behind her briefly, still walking forward. The beautiful maiden smiled and continued her path to the chamber. The stranger slowly crept back up to the ledge but remained behind its barrier, leaving his eyes as the only his eyes showing so he could continue to watch.
Following behind the Elves were the Dwarves, the men of the mountains. He recognized them only by their height for the Dwarves he was used to seeing were always rugged and dirty with earthy soot. Today however, they had their beards braided and they were remarkably clean, dressed in stunning earth toned garments.
The last representatives of the Northern Plain came from the second largest empire that was secluded deep within the Villa-Idian Spirit Forest. The reptilian Trapos were indeed a very large race as they mostly consisted of breeders. They approached
the gates, each of their four arms dangling at their sides, unarmed. Normally, it would be rare to see any grown Trapos, male or female without a bow or dagger in hand.
Delegates from the five separate empires on the Northern Plain were now in one place. However, there was one other small empire that had arrived and not many had expected them to show. The Lunata, more formally known as Moonwalkers were humans that resided in the settlement called Lunbaris. Unlike the others, the Lunata Empire did not appear on the Northern Plain. The reason for the Moonwalkers’ absence was due to Lunbaris being constructed on the Southern Plain, a wretched and haunted part of Villis-Idun that was always shrouded in darkness; an everlasting night. Even though daylight existed in that region, it remained forever dark due to the smokestacks and soot vents from the Magnus Wastelands, the tarnished battlefield on the Southern Plain where the bones of the fallen lay. War arms littered the expanse of the region and now, unimaginable nightmarish creatures called it home. It wasn’t often that the Moonwalkers left their territory but today was different.
The cloaked man hidden amongst the rooftops was of the Lunata delegates that were suppose to attend. A letter was sent to the Lunbaris via delivery hawk to inform them of the events of the young Chimra’s discovery. Seeing as no one would expect them to attend the meeting in Agress, the stranger had decided to make a surprise appearance for his people. Leaving Lunbaris with a tenfold of men, he marched them through the Magnus Wastelands unaware of what awaited them. Taken by surprise and attacked by the locals, the stranger barely escaped with his life. Left poisoned and deformed by a Damnpyre bite, he traveled in agony, making the rest of the journey alone. The only remaining Moonwalker braved his condition and came to the mighty
kingdom of Agress, finally able to admire its beauty upon the cliffs over the Su’Ein Ocean.
Still sitting on the rooftop, the Moonwalker pulled back the sleeves of his
cloak and monitored his ailing condition. Large gashes were embedded deep in his skin with a purplish tint around the wounds. These were the marks of the Damnpyre poison. His fingernails had grown into large, hideous claws and his skin rapidly turned pale due to the poison. He thought silently to himself about the events of the day before yesterday.
Why did I make them travel with me? he asked himself. I knew the consequences. They lost their lives because I was careless. They had no part in this and still they volunteered. It is my story and my ancestry that is being linked to the mural. Why did I have to be the one?
As he returned his arm to the cool interior of his cloak, he watched as the gates to the castle began to close. He would not be able to slip inside with the guards still at their posts.
Hmm, he mumbled softly. The gates are shut and guards still remain outside. What to do? He glanced over the retaining wall that led to the exterior garden and thought of a possible way of entry, thinking to himself that it was not how he planned on getting in. Though, he had not planned being late either.

---------------------------
-3-
The First Incantation

With no other way to enter the garden without being seen, the Moonwalker decided what to do about his situation. The guards were still patrolling outside the gates, which were now completely shut and bared. Timing was everything now. If the guards saw him make his attempt over the retaining wall, there was no doubt that a warning would be sent out immediately, thus he had to time it perfectly. With the guards constantly moving about, it made the leap more difficult. The Moonwalker sat back down against the interior of the rooftop and thought of more options. Turning his head again, it still seemed to be the only point of entry. The thought of being caught was overpowering him. Then, just as he thought this task was near impossible, a crowd of raging protesters arrived at the castle gates, demanding entry to the Council chamber. The guards were instantly thrown into action as they lowered their pole spears to protect the entrance from the oncoming mob. The citizens clashed with the guards; throwing up their shields as the people threw rocks and other blunt objects.
The time is now, he said to himself. He picked himself and balanced on the ledge with his feet hanging over and cloak ruffling. Drawing his hands from under the cloak, he placed his hands beside his feet to give himself more of a push off.
One, he counted to himself, Two……THREE! On the final count, he pushed off the ledge hard with his hands and feet in unison. He was cutting through the air with descent speed, though his cloak was dragging him. The Moonwalker made contact, throwing himself hard into the wall and sending a shock all the way through his body. His feet scurried across the wall as he hung there in plain sight of the guards that were only feet below him. Weak from his incident in the Magnus Wastelands, the Moonwalker finally began to feel the burning sensation of the venom coursing through his veins. Becoming weaker every second that he hung, the more he thought he would drop. His fingers began to break under the stinging pain of venom and they began to slide away from him.
In a single moment of thought, the Moonwalker lashed out his blade with his right hand, leaving now only his left to hold his weight as gravity pulled on him intensely. Allowing the blade to slide in his hand, he threw his whole arm over the ledge, using it as an anchor to give him strength to pull up again. He hoisted his weight with his right arm, relieving some of the pressure from his left. Finally, the Moonwalker pulled himself up and threw his legs over the wall, straddling it. He inched his way into a guard post and sat under the cool shade briefly, breathing hard.
Catching his breath, the Moonwalker drew open cloak and pulled out his arm again, holding it tightly in pain. The wound pulsed wildly and he saw his veins thicken up and run down his arm like a delta. The pain was too great to let it go on so the Moonwalker tore a strip of cloth from his cloak and split it into two pieces, one as a bandage and the other as a gag. He shoved the one piece deep into his mouth and bit down hard as he drew a knife from his boot. The blade touched his skin and the Moonwalker instantly began breathing hard again. In one quick swipe, he pulled it across his pale flesh and cried in pain. The deep purple ooze spilled from the severed veins and stained the wooden floor of the post. He wrapped the fresh wound with the other strip of cloth and pulled it tight, stopping the bleeding. He spat out the cloth and slowed his breathing to a murmur.
b*****d creatures, he muttered darkly as he cradled the fresh cut. Coming to his
knee, the Moonwalker peered over the wooden barrier of the guard station and looked to
the open window on an upper level of the castle.
Delegates were now moving their way through the plethora of stylized shrubbery. He moved to the outermost edge of the wall, being able to see the delegates and protest. The window was further than he thought. There would be no way for him to slide through the garden to the wall at which the window was built in. In a short moment of thought, he came to a decision.
It seems that I will be using the pearls earlier than I had expected, he thought to himself. He again looked to the small window in the distance and remained in tune with his destination. The Moonwalker reached into the pocket containing the pearls he was guarding closely. Removing them, he outstretched his hand, the pearls casting dim shines upon his face. Cupping the pearls together in his hands, the Moonwalker closed his eyes with the vision of the open window in his mind.
“Aberon Movs!” he whispered in a soft voice. The pearls shimmered slightly as they rose from his hands and fell into a circular pattern around his body. The five jewels levitated momentarily before making contact with his body. A blue portal slowly materialized in front of him and soon pulled him through, sealing and leaving not a trace from the guard post. Being his first time inside the warp, the Moonwalker took the time to survey its interior. Electrical jolts arched through the portal’s cylindrical layout and the rushing sounds of water pulsated through its expanse. Looking beneath his feet, he was able to keep watch on the delegates as they made their way into the castle.
“This is amazing,” he muttered to himself. His voice swayed around the
portal and reverberated back to the Moonwalker’s ears. He walked slowly, watching the Elf maiden from his invisible alcove above. Her skin was fair and clear as the day, her hair sweeping gently across her shoulders.
“I have a feeling I know you,” he said to himself again, his words not reaching to her. “We will find out.”
He picked up his foot to walk forward again but it stuck hard to the plasma material of the portal.
“Not good.” The magic of the portal was fading quickly as the looked back to see the head of the portal rushing towards him. It was closing off and would soon release him from its protection. He picked up again and ran the remainder of the distance to the window, his feet becoming heavier than before. The end of the warp was now in front of him. Not knowing how to release to the portal intentionally, the Moonwalker panicked and devised his own method of escape. He reached his bandaged hands forward and pushed them through the white swirl. It released more electrical jolts, this time more violent as he began to force his way out. The Moonwalker ripped open the end of the portal slowly with all his remaining strength. The bandages on his hands began to flake away and the blue portal touched his bare skin, sending a searing pain through his body. With his last effort, he pushed through, sending his entire body outward and into the window. The front of the portal caught up and swallowed the end, again leaving no trace of his advance across the garden.
“I need more practice if I’ll be using the pearls in such a way,” he spoke again to himself. The pearls took shape in his hand again, emitting a warm vibe into his palm. The Moonwalker scanned his new surroundings. He was blocked in by old stone walls with a steep stairwell at his right. He turned to the stairwell, hoping that this would lead him to where he needed to be. Time was now of the essence due to his incident at the
Amber Eye. Before leaving, he took a quick glance out the window he had just entered and looked below. The final delegate was just entering the castle gates. He took a step forward and immediately stumbled ahead of himself, his bearings still being shaky from the warp. The Moonwalker fell hard down the steps as they coiled forward to an unknown location. He grabbed his legs and closed his eyes and waited for it to be over.
In an instant, he collided with a wooden door at the base of the stairwell. His head smacked hard into the door and the Moonwalker fell unconscious. As he slept in his unconscious state for that short time, old visions crept into his mind. They broke through, reaching the core of his thoughts. There was agony, deceit, pain, and then...darkness. All his temporary dreams were wiped away quickly as he began to come to.
“We gather here today to speak of a possible crisis at hand,” said an unknown voice that came from the opposite side of the door. He rubbed his head and checked the rest of his body, seeing that most of his limbs were unscathed. The voice continued to speak as he got to his feet and reached for the brass knob that hopefully led to the Council Chamber. He slowly cracked open the old wooden door and put his eyes to the crack in the door. The Moonwalker slipped out and crawled across the floor to a marble balcony ahead of him. His eyes wandered aimlessly across the large chamber that was filled with large stained glass windows and long extravagant tapestries. The light from the outside sun reflected softly through the tinted glass, sending many beautiful colors dancing across the stone walls. He finally came to the edge of the balcony where he rose to a kneeling position. Below, the lower level of the chamber was almost filled to its entirety with delegates, nobility, clergy and imperial guards.
Atop a marble stage at the head of the chamber sat Lord Pallanza the Magnificent, Ruler of the great human kingdom. He was clothed in burgundy and white robes that gently sprawled the stage. Pallanza’s face was broad and strong and his beard neatly trimmed, revealing his near perfect appearance. At his side, always ready to smite evil was the legendary Sword of Ages, the blade passed down to each generation of Agressian Kings. It was a companion any warrior would be glad to have at his side in battle. On every side of Pallanza stood a choir of imperial guards, each armed with large pole spears in hand at curved sabers at their side.
I really am quite surprised at the turnout of this event, the Moonwalker thought to himself. He continued to watch the meeting unfold as Pallanza continued his lecture to the congregation before him. “As you may already be aware, this possible crisis I speak of was discovered by a young Chimra lad on the outskirts of his empire.” Deep within the crowd, the young Chimra sat next to his mother and the Chimra Elder. As Pallanza continued to recite the same details contained within the letter sent by the Chimra Minister, the crowd began to shoot looks at each other in disconcert. When the King concluded his speech, he returned to his armchair and sat again. “Now,” Pallanza spoke again over the uneasy crowd with a motion of his hand, “Are there any with us today who wish to approach the floor and share their thoughts?” His eyes shuffled across the expanse of the chamber as did the heads of the delegates and the citizens who filled it.
“Mind you, your comments are welcome in any shape or form,” he added this time rising from his chair. “I need to know what the people of the world wish to do about this crisis.” The Moonwalker above decided to keep to himself for the time being and continued to watch. Speaking out would be a foolish decision as he was not technically recognized for being there this day. Without notice, a stout representative of the Dwarves stood from his chair and approached the King, taking the steps to the stage. “Yer Majesty,” he said in a raspy voice, bowing his head. Pallanza acknowledged him also by bowing his head. The dwarf turned to the crowd of roughly eighty people and cleared his throat loudly. “I am Rufus Stonefist, son of Rudarth Stonefist and Lord of the Dwarf Realm. I perpose tha’ we march in number to the site of this mural in blood an’ excavate any mysterious artifacts that migh’ be of use to us.” He ran his gloved hand through his braided beard and waited for any kind of response. Out of the crowd rose a large Azbarian delegate. “I am Brom, Lord of the Tribunal City of Zenidar,” he roared, “And I say your decision is an unwise one! You are unaware of the dangers that wait within that cavern!” He looked about at the crowd. It seemed that they were deliberating about the plan of action the Dwarf had proposed. “Please people, we cannot allow this miner to be reckless and go off digging up what he sees fit.” “Yer callin’ me reckless you horned beast,” retaliated Rufus from the floor. “You have no room ter talk about wha’s reckless! Yer a dragon!” Brom pushed his way through the other delegates and met the Dwarf at the stage. He brought his head to bow and rose again.
“Forgive me your Majesty for being so abrupt but we must think wisely upon our decision,” spoke Brom almost in a pleading tone. He turned to the crowd, leaving Rufus hidden behind him. “Please listen to me. We must think about this. If the claims about what is written on that mural are in fact to come to pass, we must be ready for an attack. We should leave the cavern be and wait it out to see what comes.” He turned again to Rufus now staring down at him with his large yellow eyes. “We cannot afford to be reckless.” “So tha’s how it’s gonna be, ay,” remarked Rufus who now assumed a fighting position. “C’mon, I can take ya,” he said motioning Brom towards him. Delegates stood up from their seats in the chamber and began to argue amongst each other, obviously outraged by the misconduct of the Dwarf and Azbarian representatives. Pallanza rose from his armchair is anger, throwing his hands out to his sides. “QUIET!” he boomed across the chamber. It became utterly silent as every face shot to the stage. Delegates began to take their seats again as Pallanza continued on reprimanding the Dwarf and Azbarian. “That will be quite enough from you Rufus Stonefist!” bellowed Pallanza from his spot on the stage. “Return to your fellow Dwarves now! The same goes for you Brom!” The two representatives apologetically bowed and removed themselves from the floor. Pallanza took his seat in the armchair and hunched with his elbows, stroking his beard with his forefingers. The Moonwalker standing in the above balcony thought very little of the outbreak that had just transpired below as he was in concentration of his own. Both of his hands were now atop the marble railing holing him up. He was in plain sight to anyone below but it seemed they had other things on their mind then the beauty of the chamber which the Moonwalker admired so.

Thanks. Do you think I have a good chance to get this published? I know, there's a lot more to consider but I'm shooting for December of 2008. I'm just know finishing up chapter 16 and I'm hoping to end the first book with 25 chapters or more. Thanks for your input Myles.

I will when I can. If you'd like me too that is. Currently, I'm going through all my chapters for revisions. I'll let you know when I post more.