The Saga Continues

I have continued the joys of job hunting, but am yet to come across any major job leads. My old boss at FLS said that he should know more about whether I will be able to go back there by this Thursday. Even if I do go there, that doesn't mean by job hunt will be over. I may only be at FLS temporarily, while I find something else more permanent. Unless FLS happens to change my job description (and add to my salary), both of which are rather unlikely. But we shall see. :)

Below, I have posted the current chapter two from The Lords of Sargoff. This is just over 2 pages in Word (a little above 1000 words). A lot of this is from what was previously posted as chapter one several months ago, but it is shorter (as a lot of what was there has now been moved to chapter three). So, to some of you, a lot of this will be rather familiar. That being said, I just finished up chapter seven, and will be, as soon as I click "Publish Post", starting on chapter eight.

Let me know what you think, if you read it. Everything still needs a lot of work, of course.

LotD: Alienware Curved Display. That's just crazy.


The Lords of Sargoff

Chapter Two

It was dawn by the clock’s standards, but darkness still spread over the plains of Sargoff. Not a star in the sky, no moon or moon crescent hung there to shine. No sound was heard, no breeze was felt, no creatures moved. In a small grove of trees stood a man who had been there for hours, waiting. He had not slept nor grown tired, his mind glued to the task at hand.

His clothes were all faded brown and in rough shape, from his thick steel-toed boots up to his rimmed hat. Several scratches and dried blood stains shown in his coat’s dark fabric. A thick pack hung from his back, and a sheathed dagger dangled from his belt.

The maple and fir trees, organized in a perfect circle, surrounded him densely on all sides and left an open area in the middle nearly an acre in size. It was mostly empty, except for two large rocks that sat next to each other and were long overtaken with moss and plant life. The grass stood up nearly to the man’s waist.

He watched through one of the few gaps in the trees as a dull light emerged on the black horizon and sped through the air. It came to an abrupt halt high above the waiting man, hung there for a few moments, and then dropped. It stopped falling directly in front of the man and hovered at near his eye-level.

“You’re late,” the man said, his voice deep and fiery.

“Yes, my lord,” the high-pitched response came. The outline of a mouth made of light emerged on the shining sphere. “I do apologize, but—”

“No time. Where is it?”

“I carry it.” An illuminated arm grew out from behind the light, and it reached over its body and inside the mouth. It rummaged underneath the bright tongue with its human-like hand. Loud noises came from within its body: clangs and rumbles as if large heavy objects banged against each other. The bright hand soon emerged holding a small grey box that was at least twice the size of the light’s fist-sized body. The box was exquisitely decorated with sparkling gold, diamonds and pearls.

An eyeball stuck out of the mouth of the glowing sphere, attached to a thin string of sagging light that seemed to drip small drops of brightness inside the mouth and onto the ground below. The eyeball was completely bright like the rest of its body, except for a small black dot on its front side.

The man took the box into his gloved hand.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” the sphere said.

The man grunted and then asked, “how does it open?”

“Open? Why would it need to open? It’s a ceremonial piece—”

The man walked to the large moss-covered rocks and threw the box against one of them. It broke open and even more rare jewels fell from its insides onto the ground. The sphere of light gasped and turned a bright reddish color. “What are you doing? That thing is worth enough to buy the whole country!”

“Indeed it is,” the man said. “Or powerful enough to rule the world.”

“What?”

He knelt down on his knees and used his fingers to sift through what had become a pile of miscellaneous gems and stones on the ground. “One of these is much more special than the rest.”

“Those big diamonds are beautiful,” the light said. “Those are much more special.”

“Here it is,” the man said as he held a dull round stone in his palm.

“That?”

“This.”

“Why that?”

“Because this is power.”

“That? That is nothing. A rock you’d find anywhere. Nothing that the eye finds pleasing.”

“Yet ever more useful.”

“Useful?”

The man nodded.

“But sire, these are the lowest of the stones, created by the lowest of stone makers. Even the slaves are given them. How is such a rock useful?”

“Because this is no mere rock at all. This thing brings life, and only through life can you bring death, and only through death can there be peace.”

“Peace? From what war?”

“Peace from those who bring war to create death, and peace for those who bring war to create life.”

“And this little thing can accomplish that?”

The man looked slowly from the small object in his hand to the light, his lip curling up on one side.

“Power is not the same thing as size. I thought you of all beings would know that.”

“My power is the same as my size; I have no great powers. But this thing, it is just a rock, my lord,” the shining ball of light said. “Thousands of them sit on the bottom of the river—”

“This one is different,” the man said. He pointed at a thin green line that encircled the object, except for a small gap. “This is the mark of Lord Hamrin, the great warlock of the forest. This is no stone, but an orb of great magical powers.”

“An orb? But magical orbs are much bigger and brighter—”

“Most of them are.”

“—and they leave no question of what they are. What makes you think this is an orb, my lord?”

“Because I have seen it before. Several years ago, in the palm of Lord Hamrin himself.”

“But—”

The man held out his hand, and the light silenced.

“Cymor, my friend, this has been my life’s quest,” he said, holding the rock between his fingers. “And here it is.”

Cymor’s eyeball stared at the man, squinting. “It must be special, then, Jothan,” it said. “And this Lord Hamrin wants the orb back?”

“He has been dead for many years.”

“Then who wants it? What does the orb do?”

Jothan scowled slightly and ignored these questions.

“We must move out.”

“Where to?”

We go to Irkinoth,” Jothan said. “We must speak with the king.”

“Irkinoth,” Cymor repeated. “Though I have no memory of being there, or seeing it on a map, somehow, I know just where it is.”

Jothan looked at him awkwardly and dropped the orb into his pack. The pair of them moved south through the field as the sun started to peak over the horizon.