This is the first chapter of a story I wrote for Nanowrimo (National November Writing Month) in 2016. I got 17761 words out of 50000. So, you know, I didn't win.
But on the bright-side, I do have 17761 words of a story! I'll probably post more chapters on here later, but currently I'm too lazy. It's titled Cerandith Asaile, by Lily Diane (My pen name)
I didn't do any editing or rewriting, so this is the first draft. Tell me what you think!
Chapter one
Lillian reached over her head for the lantern that sat there while she slept, drowsily, she lit it, squinted and looked around. I was still dark outside, but many other fairaes were awake. Lillian rubbed her eyes and clambered out of bed, then shivered at the cold, wanting very much to go back to bed.
But against her better judgement, she stayed up and went over to her wardrobe, and rested her head against it slowly falling back to sleep.
Lillian shook herself out of it and got dressed, then she packed her necessities in her bag, and pulled her brown and blonde streaked hair into a high ponytail, brushing stray hairs that she missed behind her ear.
Then she unfolded her wings slowly, not having moved them in a while, they felt strange. Lillian fluttered them once or twice, lifting no less than three inches off the hardwood floor. In the living room, she found her elven-made weapons, her longsword, name Vvistar, and her two silver dagger. Then she grabbed her bag and went outside. Each fairae held a lantern, besides the children, and several were already leaving.
Beracul, Lillian’s cousin, flew up to her, his hair was messy and he looked as if he had been in a hurry to get dressed.
“Lil’, you look like you just woke up, you need to get ready, hurry!” He said quickly, then darted to the side to grab his little sister who was running off.
“Ber, you are the one that looks like you just woke, and I am ready.” Lillian said, flying past him. Her throat felt dry, which made her voice croak.
“I’ve been up for hours! Trying to get these… rascals under control!” Beracul said, gesturing to the little twin girls running left and right.
She grinned. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
“Yeah, thanks, Lil’.” He said sarcastically. “I appreciate it.”
Just wait till they can fly. Lillian thought. She flew around and hovered over the pond, trying to locate the registrator. Over to her right she saw a line of fairaes, and flew over to them.
“This is the way to register?” Lillian asked the girl in the back off the line.
“Yes, but it may be a bit off a wait. I heard there is another one over by the aviaries that isn’t quite as crowded that I’m going to go check out.” She said.
“Do you mind if I come with you?” Lillian backed up as she flew out of the line.
“No, not at all.” The fairae shrugged.
Lillian followed her all the way to the aviaries, where several white and grey pigeons were flying in and out off.
The line her was much smaller and was much quicker to get through. When Lilian reached it, the fairae there asked for her full name.
“Umm, Lillian Oakflame.” She said.
“Age?” He asked.
She wondered why they needed my age. “63.”
“Please state your intent.”
Lillian sighed, leaning against the aviary wall. “I want to go to the Yorax for Cerandith Asaile.” Just like every other fairae here. She added to herself dryly. He wrote something down on his parchment. “Free to go.”
“Thank you.” She said, then flew up above the trees and located the procession of fairaes headed to the elven capital, and flew over to them and began walking.
When the sun rose, the fairaes took flight for the stretch of road the led straight to the capital.
The Yorax was the name of the wood that the elves lived in. The Yorax was canopied in trees, darkening the whole wood. Instead of using torches and lanterns, every ten and three years in the capital, they would have a celebration called Cerandith Asaile, which meant festival of starlight.
It was where the king and queen used the stars to illuminate the Yorax. Cerandith Asaile was a very large thing for the elves, and fairaes, the seran, and a select gathering of humans were invited to join in the festivities. Probably, Lillian believed, the only reason the elves ever invited the seran were to not offend them.
The seran were elven like creatures, but their kingdom was significantly more powerful. The seran themselves were more powerful as well. Once, when the kingdom, Brün declared war on them, their king was dead within two days. Something about a master assassin, and lack of decent security.
Lillian didn’t know what she thought of the seran. They had never attacked anyone without being provoked. But stories made them sound as if they’d simple kill someone if they didn’t like them.
She had gone to Cerandith Asaile only four times before, and never before had she seen one.
They reached the capital within the next hour, it was magnificent to Lillian, even though she had seen it before. She had heard that the capital was the only place the the stas could be seen in the entire Yorax.
She remembered from before that the elves always provided a place for the elves to stay, with rent, of course. Last year it was a very nice inn that a a room for each fairae. The citadel was nice. But still in her mind, it was nothing compared to the fairaeland.
Brill took a deep breath, and steadied her hand. The target swung back and forth on a long rope, and Brill released, whispering a word. Her arrow soared through the air, catching on her word and lighting on fire.
With a satisfying sccik-klunk the arrow hit dead center on the target. The arrow was still burning after it landed. Brill nocked a second raven-fletched arrow and released. It landed a half centimeter above her other arrow. A third: half centimeter above that one.
“Brill, time to go.” Her brother came in and spotted her. “Brill! What are you doing?”
“Practicing.” She said without taking her eyes off target. This time, Brill aimed higher, focusing on the rope swinging the target back and forth.
“We need to go Brill, now isn’t the time.”
She released, the arrow embedded itself in the wall behind the target. Brill made a face, then turned to Hjargen. “Go ahead, I’ll catch up on Ethear. I’m trying to get this target down.”
Hjargen frowned, and held out a hand. Brill looked at him for a second confused. Then scoffed, realizing he was telling her to hand him the bow. Hjargen shot Brill’s arrow, and it made the same sccik noise, but the klunk was the target hitting the floor.
“Now come on.” He urged.
“I’m coming.” Brill said. “Just let me grab my pack.”
She left the training room, certain she would have made an identical shot if Hjargen hadn’t distracted her. But then she told herself, if she was going to be in the army or the guard, there would be several distractions.
If she was going to falter at the first one, she fail completely. Brill made her way to her bedroom picking up her pack and putting on her weapons, which consisted of her two sabers, her dagger, her quiver full of arrow she had made herself and her bow, Aredsael. Which meant fire tongue.
Hjargen was waiting outside with two bay horses waiting. Ethear, Brill’s ghostly white dragon, was curled up outside by the stables. When Brill came out, his head perked up.
When he saw her, he leapt up and came up to her, bounding around her and making guttural noises that Brill believed to be laughter.
Brill smiled, and held out a hand which he nuzzled. She scratched him behind the ears. “Sorry, boy, you’re staying here. I whistle if I need you.” She told him.
He tossed his head, flapping his wings a few times.
“No Ethear.” Brill said more sternly. “I’m going with Hjargen.” The she turned around, trying to ignore Ethear’s mournful growls.
“See, Hjargen? Look what you made me do.” Brill said.
“He’ll be fine. I’m certain of it.” Said Hjargen. “Now get on your horse.”
In the capital, only twenty minutes away, she and Hjargen had helped in the preparing of Cerandith Asaile for almost two months. Mostly decorations though. They had to gather many more lights from elsewhere due to their weakness. The village inhabitant came to stay at the capital then. Once the lights were brighter, they’d return to their villages.
It really was an fantastic effect, Brill thought, to have some many dimmed lights, and then them all to light up like a million stars all at once, shining on everyone. She had been there for every Cerandith Asaile that happened in her lifetime, and never forgot one moment. It was the most beautiful thing ever.
Cerandith Asaile lasted five days, and Brill hoped people would actually stand to appreciate the decor.
The gates were wide open, which was an uncommon sight at the citadel. But guards were standing ready all around.
Brill and Hjargen arrived as soon and the fairaes did. Brill always had admired fairae wings, but thought them to be a bit to delicate for her taste, like the fairaes themselves, but almost each fairae carried a weapon or two that was visible on their person.
Each fairae landed before entering, and their wings curled back on themselves creating a little spiral of wings on their backs. If they wanted to, they could look human by wearing something over their wings and nobody could tell any different. Albeit, a rather petite human,
“Do you think that fairaes could disguise themselves as elves?.” Brill asked Hjargen. He frowned, thinking for a minute. “I doubt it. We are naturally taller, and their ears aren’t as pointed as ours.”
“Yes, but besides those and their wings, they’re basically our equal?”
“Mm, I don’t know.” He shrugged.
Ten yards away, Lillian was following behind Beracul and the twins, who were trying to see how many blades of grass they could find in seven snail shells.
“What happened to the snails that were inside?” Beracul asked in horror when he found out.
Brika shrugged. “Amethyst dropped three, but we used the other ones we used to draw our names on the big rock we passed.”
Bile rose into Lillian’s throat. “Eww…”
“I didn’t drop them!” Amethyst argued. “Brika bumped me.”
“Okay,” said Beracul. “why don’t you two stay away from the snails for a few-”
“Years?” Lillian suggested.
“Hours, I was going to say, but years would be just as effective.”
Lillian grimaced, and flew up a bit, looking at the gate, watching the fairaes file in mixed in with a few elves.
She drifted downward, “Beracul, in all of the fairae history, have we ever had anything like Cerandi-?” She spotted her cousin pulling more snail shells out of Brika’s pocket, and she floated away a bit. “Nevermind.”
In the capital, that had been given rooms in a large mansion like house. On side was for females and one was for males, with five fairaes to a room, and they only had to pay a crown a day.
Lillian spent the afternoon in my room, and becoming associated with the four other fairaes there, and getting the extra sleep she’d lost that morning. But the next day, she left her seclusion to explore the capital the best she could.
The elves, like the fairae, loved flora, and portrayed beautiful trees and flowers everywhere,
Lillian went out into the crowded streets of the citadel, making her way through, she accidentally bumped into someone. “Sorry!” She said quickly and stepped back. She remembered the citadel being crowded on Cerandith Asaile, but not this crowded. Lillian got out onto a more open street, then to the market place, looking around for vendors. That’s where she had gotten Vvistar, her sword. It was her father’s before her, and he’d gotten it from the capital. Specifically the market at Cerandith Asaile. Lillian hadn’t found a better sword in all the years she’d had it.
She spotted an elven man in a stall with several types of swords leaning against it and sitting on it. She went over and looked around at a saber, when the stall manager said, “I can see you’re a woman with good taste in weapons.”
Lillian looked up at him, confused. “Sorry?”
He smiled. “The sword you have at your side.” He gestured to Vvistar. “I made it.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then she frowned. “How would you know?”
“The symbol on the pommel. It’s mine.” He answered.
Lillian glanced at the pommel, and for the first time, actually paid attention to the octagon with swirl inside it. She shifted one of the daggers at the stall and found it had an identical mark.
She grinned. “Well I congratulate you on it’s craftsmanship, I’ve found no better in the time I’ve had it.”
He nodded his head. “Why thank you.”
As he said that, an elf girl with long red hair turned out of the crowd and ran into me.
“Oh! I apologize!” Brill said quickly to the fairae. “I’m not in my right mind today.”
“Nonsense! It was as much fault mine as it was yours!” The fairae said. The first thing she noticed about her was the golden pendant that hung off her neck. Brill didn’t have much experience at all with fairaes. But this one seemed kind enough, despite Hjargen’s insistence that they were awful. Just then a loud trumpet sounded. The citadel was built around a mountain, and the palace was on it’s peak. That was the trumpet that was used when there was an announcement to be made by the royals. Everyone in the capital, which was quite a lot of people, scrambled to the center of the citadel. Lillian and the other fairaes got there first, obviously, because the elves couldn’t fly. But she and the others had the decency to fold up their wings. Once everyone was gathered, an elf approached the balcony of the palace. I had seen the king and queen before. This was not the king. But apparently a person of noble status, he had short jet black hair, and pale skin.
“For those who do not reside here or near here,” The man began. “I am Prince Resden, son of King Bermund and Queen Isabeth of the Yorax.”
That made more sense to Lillian. She didn’t remember whether or not she knew the elven queen and king had a son or not, but she thought she might have recalled something of the sort.
The prince continued. “In short, the king and queen are missing.”
Shouts erupted all through the crowd.
“But I urge you all to remain calm! They have taken leave unexpectedly before. This is not necessarily an attack!” He said, holding up his hands for silence. “The king and queen will return to light the Yorax, if not, I will perform the ceremony myself. In the meantime, continue with the festival!”
Lillian went out into the crowded streets of the citadel, making her way through, she accidentally bumped into someone. “Sorry!” She said quickly and stepped back. She remembered the citadel being crowded on Cerandith Asaile, but not this crowded. Lillian got out onto a more open street, then to the market place, looking around for vendors. That’s where she had gotten Vvistar, her sword. It was her father’s before her, and he’d gotten it from the capital. Specifically the market at Cerandith Asaile. Lillian hadn’t found a better sword in all the years she’d had it.
She spotted an elven man in a stall with several types of swords leaning against it and sitting on it. She went over and looked around at a saber, when the stall manager said, “I can see you’re a woman with good taste in weapons.”
Lillian looked up at him, confused. “Sorry?”
He smiled. “The sword you have at your side.” He gestured to Vvistar. “I made it.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then she frowned. “How would you know?”
“The symbol on the pommel. It’s mine.” He answered.
Lillian glanced at the pommel, and for the first time, actually paid attention to the octagon with swirl inside it. She shifted one of the daggers at the stall and found it had an identical mark.
She grinned. “Well I congratulate you on it’s craftsmanship, I’ve found no better in the time I’ve had it.”
He nodded his head. “Why thank you.”
As he said that, an elf girl with long red hair turned out of the crowd and ran into me.
“Oh! I apologize!” Brill said quickly to the fairae. “I’m not in my right mind today.”
“Nonsense! It was as much fault mine as it was yours!” The fairae said. The first thing she noticed about her was the golden pendant that hung off her neck. Brill didn’t have much experience at all with fairaes. But this one seemed kind enough, despite Hjargen’s insistence that they were awful. Just then a loud trumpet sounded. The citadel was built around a mountain, and the palace was on it’s peak. That was the trumpet that was used when there was an announcement to be made by the royals. Everyone in the capital, which was quite a lot of people, scrambled to the center of the citadel. Lillian and the other fairaes got there first, obviously, because the elves couldn’t fly. But she and the others had the decency to fold up their wings. Once everyone was gathered, an elf approached the balcony of the palace. I had seen the king and queen before. This was not the king. But apparently a person of noble status, he had short jet black hair, and pale skin.
“For those who do not reside here or near here,” The man began. “I am Prince Resden, son of King Bermund and Queen Isabeth of the Yorax.”
That made more sense to Lillian. She didn’t remember whether or not she knew the elven queen and king had a son or not, but she thought she might have recalled something of the sort.
The prince continued. “In short, the king and queen are missing.”
Shouts erupted all through the crowd.
“But I urge you all to remain calm! They have taken leave unexpectedly before. This is not necessarily an attack!” He said, holding up his hands for silence. “The king and queen will return to light the Yorax, if not, I will perform the ceremony myself. In the meantime, continue with the festival!”
Well there ya go! Again, I will simply pretend that my invisible followers enjoyed that, and will hopefully continue posting! Katy signing off!
~Then Jesus told his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.~ Matthew 16: 24
