Woot! Happy Fantasy Friday!
So back to my preferred style of writing: Story telling. Not that I don’t enjoy coming up with theories, themes and so on, but I feel as if they belong in a notebook, not on a Blog.
The following is actually an excerpt from the story I’m writing at the moment, so context may be lacking here, but I don’t think that it affects this scene too much (it was more of an inspired scene from the imagination gods if you know what I mean).
And so, dear reader, enjoy. Comments and feedback apriciated.
“Maolyn the Great! Closer of the inter-dimensional Rift between Arion and Pyre! A king among mages! A god among mortals!” Renatus exclaimed without any tones of excitement. “I am his son, Renatus the Failure!” he kicked at a stone and sent it spiralling into a tree, embedding it into the bark. He walked over to the tree. It was a proudsman tree. They grew straight up, their roots dived straight down, but their trunks were too soft for building. Flowers the size of a trolls head were open above, despite the fact that it was night time.
Renatus bent down and pulled the stone from the bark, “Sorry.” he mumbled.
Sap filled the hole as soon as the stone was removed, bleeding out of the trunk and onto the mulch bellow. The speed of the sap surprised Renatus, he only realised something was wrong when the sap sprung at his eyes like needles. He brought up his hand in front of his face to shield himself, a series of pangs jolted his arm as shards embedded themselves in his arm.
“I said sorry!” Renatus gritted his teeth. Bloody Dryads.
A face formed from the knots in the bark, holes sinking into dark pits. “That was painful, Mortal.” The voice was shill and almost musical. Renatus guested it was female.
“As was that attack of yours!” Renatus tried to compose himself. Dryads were known to hold grudges, and to spread rumours throughout an entire forest in a single night. The last thing Renatus needed was the forest to hate him.
“An attack on a sleeping Dryad is considered cowardice, mortal. And cowardice is considered undesirable. If I were to decide you were undesirable, you would die, mortal.”
Renatus knelt on one knee, “Forgive me, Dryad of the proudsman tree, it was my clumsiness that awoke you, not an attack I assure you.”
The Dryad seemed to study him, assessing his words, reading his expressions. “A deal then.”
“A deal.” the Dryad repeated dryly. “I will forget that you harmed me, and you shall give me something.”
Renatus considered his options. Be hated by all nature, or make a deal with a Dryad. “First tell me what you want, then I’ll decide.”
“A drop of your blood.”
Renatus grunted, “You could take blood from my corpse, why would you ask for a mere drop?”
“Sap and blood, nature and mortal, life tied to life, anew is born. Such must be consented of both Dryad and Mankind.”
Renatus scratched his head, unsure of what the Dryad’s riddle meant. But if it meant escaping this ordeal, he would give a drop of blood freely. “Alright Dryad, it’s a deal.”
The knotted face soothed some, becoming a softer, female expression. Her face was angular, sharp cheek bones and jaw line. Her nose a small lump in the middle of her face and what was before gnarled teeth, were now a gentle crease in the bark, imitating lips.
“My name is Lunair, Dryad of a proudsman tree.” Lunair’s voice had lost it’s harshness, the sentence sounding lyrical. “What are you called?”
“Renatus, Son of Maolyn.” he answered, unsure of why such a thing was necessary.
The proudsman tree’s branches swayed with excitement, “Renatus Maolynsson, do you give of your blood willingly to me?”
Renatus shrugged, stepping forward with his already bloodied arm, still with needle-like sap sticking out. “Sure.”
And with a giddy laugh, the sap pulled itself out of Renatus’s arm, carrying back more than a little blood. It leapt from his arm back into the hole that had been created, which scabbed over with sap instantly.
“Our deal pleases me.” Lunair smiled a beautiful, deadly smile. “Return here when I call you Renatus Maolynsson, and do not keep me waiting.” With that, the face disappeared, and Renatus felt like he could breathe again. He arm had numbed, and his mind can clouded over.
“And now to bed.” he mumbled, before collapsing once again. His energy was sapped.
Perhaps I’ve lost too much blood today. he mused as he let the darkness of sleep envelop him.
Stay tuned and until next time, Anti-Greetings
D. Rhys Graham