Announcement

I know I haven’t posted for a while, sorry. I have created a new page to show you what I’ve been working on. It’s called Brave and Beautiful. I’m new to wordpress and don’t know how to direct you to that page, except through the search feature. If anyone knows how, please comment. Hope you enjoy. Also hope you can find it. 🙂

Mercy and War

What fun writer’s block is! It took a lot longer than I thought, but it is finally finished! Enjoy!

“Elym,” I cry. “Elym, where are you?” I glance around the corner, hoping to see his grimy, little face. But there’s only an empty alley. “Couldn’t you keep track of one little boy, Martha Peterson?” I mutter to myself. I head back to my family’s wagon. “He’s not in the alley,” I tell my family.

“He’s not in the wagon either,” my twelve-year-old twin brothers say simultaneously.

“None of the shop owners have seen him,” Mama sighs.

“He’s not hiding in the stables,” Papa reports.

“I don’t think there’s anything else we can do. We have to get out of here before the attack hits. He probably went to go find his sister, anyway. You know how attached to her he is,” Mama concludes.

“Right, I’ll get the horses hitched,” Papa agrees.

“What! Are you kidding me?,” I exclaim, “We can’t just leave him here. I’m going to keep looking.”

“Sweetheart,” Mama brushes a stray piece of my hair behind my ear. “Sure we agreed to take Elym with us, but our first priority is to get you and your brothers out of here before the war hits here.”

“I promised Ariel I would get him out of here and I will. You guys go on. I’ll meet you in Topsburg when I’ve found him,” I reply.

“I am not leaving you here!” Mama raises her voice slightly.

“Mama, I’m eighteen. You can’t tell me what to do forever!” I raise my voice a little, too.

“Martha-,” Mama begins to shout, but I cut her off.

“You’ve always taught me to keep my word, no matter haw hard it is. What kind of a person would I be if I stopped now?” I ask.

Mama opens her mouth as if to protest, but then she closes it. A sad smile starts in her eyes and leaks out into her entire face. “What a brave young woman I’ve raised,” she whispers. “Be careful. And take these.” She holds out Papa’s tool belt with his hammer and hunting knife attached. It is too big and I have to wrap the belt around twice. Mama pulls me into a tight hug. “I love you. Goodbye. I’ll see you in Topsburg, okay?”

“I love you, too. See you soon,” I reply, but in my heart, I don’t believe it. Mama turns and walks away. Crying, she turns and waves before disappearing into the wagon. I wonder if that was the last time I was going to see my family. “Bye!” I shout, tears streaming down my face. Then they disappear around the corner.

I wander in the general direction of Ariel’s house, calling Elym’s name. About five minutes after I start, the warning bells begin to toll. I frantically knock on the door of a house near me. Once I realize the house has been abandoned, like so many in this town, I yank as hard as I can on the doorknob. The door won’t budge. I race from house to house, knocking on doors, and yanking on doorknobs.

Suddenly the warning bells stop. There is a terrible silence, like the whole city is dead, and then I see the first goblin appear in the street. It lets out a horrid shriek. I run back in the direction I came, rounding corners and trampling gardens. My feet pound on the cobblestone road. I can’t stop, I know I can’t. But my lungs are burning and my heart feels like it will beat its way out of my chest.

I lay on a burst of speed and round another corner. Then I duck into an alley before the goblins come around the bend. I press my self into a doorway and hold my breath. A horde of screaming, bloodthirsty goblins run past the mouth of the alley. Once they’ve past, I let out a long sigh and sink to the ground. My long, heaving breaths slowly grow shorter and less violent and my heart slows its pace. I get up to further inspect the alley I’ve ended up in. Judging by the clothes lines with only sheets hanging from them, and the garbage bins with food scraps, it appears to run behind an inn. I try the door I was leaning against. It’s locked, figures. I push past a large sheet and discover the alley is a dead end.

A loud thump, thump, thump reaches my ears. Footsteps, and from the way the ground begins shaking in time with them, I think they’re getting closer. It must be a troll. The only other things that big are dragons and dryads in solid form, but the dragons have been sleeping for fifty years and no one has seen a dryad for thousands of years. I remember a childhood field trip to a troll laboratory. They were such kind gentle creatures. If this one hadn’t been infected by the plague, then maybe he could help me.

The troll appears in the mouth of the alley. He is as tall as a house, though not quite as wide. He doesn’t look any different than I remember trolls being, and I think he might not have been affected by the plague. I decide otherwise when he pulls an enormous knife from the waistband of his trousers and smiles evilly at me.

I take a deep breath and pull the knife from my belt. I give a loud battle cry and charge at the troll. I wince as I stab the knife into his foot. I can hardly stand to hurt a creature that was once so kind and peaceful.

There’s an odd tingling running down my spine. For a moment it looks like my hand is glowing, but then I blink and it’s back to normal. The troll reels back. For a brief moment, the menacing glare fades from his face and he looks around like he’s confused. Then I see the darkness creep back into his face.

He rushes at me and I raise my hammer, but I am not fast enough. With one hand he scoops me up and slams me against the brick wall of the building. Blinding pain splits through my skull as my head bangs against the wall. As the troll begins to squeeze me, a wave of regret overcomes me. Regret that I couldn’t find Elym, regret that I had lied to mother when I said I would come back. But, more than anything, regret that the peoples of Teloria let this happen to so many of their own. “I’m sorry,” I croak. I cannot breathe and my legs have gone numb. How could we let a creature so gentle become like this? Tears trickle down my face. One of them splashes onto the troll’s hand and there is a blinding flash of light.

I feel the giant hand let me go. I plummet down and hit the ground with a loud thump. Everything looks bright and pale, but I can’t tell if the world is glowing or if I am. Eventually the world fades back to its normal color. The troll stands before me, still holding the knife. I close my eyes and prepare for the final blow. I don’t have the energy for anything else. All that comes is a large clattering sound.

Hesitantly, I open my eyes. The knife is laying on the ground and the troll looks as though he might be sick. Slowly he turns to me, “Do you know where I am?” he asks. “The last thing I remember, I was working in my lab and then… nothing, just darkness.”

“You… aren’t… going to,” I groan in pain. Every word makes my lungs burn. “Going… to… kill me?” I ask.

He looks very confused. “No, why would I? Hey, are you okay? What happened?”

Somehow the plague has left him. He has obviously healed. I can’t bear to tell him that he did this to me, so I only say, “A monster… did this… to me. Don’t… know… if… I’m… okay,” A bout of coughing interupts me. I put my hand up to mouth. When I pull it away, It is splattered with blood. “Not… okay. Need… Ariel… That… Way…” I raise a shaking finger in the direction of Ariel’s house.

“Right, well we’d better get you there. Why are we going to this Ariel’s house. No don’t answer that. It’s hard enough for you to talk. I’m Thirin by the way,” He rambles on. If I didn’t hurt so much, I would have smiled.

“Martha,” I manage to choke out.

“No, no don’t talk. Not if it hurts. Martha,” He says. His brow creases with worry. Almost tenderly he picks me up. I moan at the burning pain as my abdomen shifts. Gently he cradles me in his hand. And for the first time since the beginning of this crazy war, I feel safe.

 Muriel Forester 2014

Sorry for the Delay

Sorry I haven’t posted anything for a while. Life has been crazy. I should have a new story up for you tomorrow evening.

Thanks for being so patient,

Muriel Forester

The First Attack (Revised)

It’s revision time! I honestly didn’t change this one a whole lot. Most of the changes were just typos and grammar. Enjoy!

 

“Be careful with that arm, Daniel!” I call as he leaves.

“I will, Ariel,” he yells back.

Good, I think. I spent far too long mending that arm to have it get broken again. I startle at a knock coming from the back door. I open the door and am about what the injury is when I see my eight-year-old brother. “Elym,” I gasp. “You’re supposed to have left town with the Petersons. This town is about to become a war zone. It’s no place for a little boy.”

“It’s not a place for big sisters either is it?” he asks, walking past me into the house.

I sigh and sit on the floor. Elym climbs into my lap. “No, but it’s a place for healers. There will be a lot of people who need help,” I explain.

“Well, you help them and I’ll help you,” he replies, as if that settles it.

Before I can object, the warning bells begin tolling. “Elym, go hide in Papa’s wardrobe, and close the doors!” I order. He stands and starts walking to the bedroom. But then he stops.

“You’re not going to send me away again, are you?” he asks.

“Elym!”

“Promise you won’t?”

“Fine, I promise. Now go!” I yell. Elym runs to Papa’s room. I rush around, locking doors and gathering food. We could be hiding for days. I’m almost to the wardrobe when I realize I forgot to lock the kitchen window and grab my medkit. I stash the food under the bed and race back to the kitchen. I can’t resist looking out the window and immediately wish I hadn’t. Orks, goblins, trolls, and even a shadowwalker are just down the street. I slam the shutters closed. Frantically, I search for my medkit. There, over by the door.

I haven’t gone two steps when something hits the door. Hard. Then it hits again, even harder. I know I should run, hide, do something, but I’m frozen. There’s a loud cracking sound as the wood around the lock breaks. Standing before me is a large ork with fangs. I do the only thing that comes naturally. I slap the ork.

For a moment Fang looks as shocked as me. Then he smiles. Cold steel presses into my throat. Orks and goblins swarm in around us. Fang’s eyes hold a childish sort of glee. He begins speaking rapidly in Orkish. My breath comes in shallow heaves.

Without warning, Fang’s knife clatters to the floor and his head snaps back. A bloody knife protrudes from his chest. Fang falls to the ground. A dark-haired she-elf stands behind him. “Hi,” she chirps, as if this is a normal meeting. Then she confronts a goblin with her sword.

I close my gaping mouth and dash towards my medkit. Something, a goblin, I think grabs me by the tunic. I stomp on it’s foot until it lets me go.

“Duck,” someone yells. I obey without a thought. There’s a flash of silver and a slight breeze. My stomach flips when a goblin head rolls around my feet. My savior is a blond elf with a woc, a long weapon with a blade on one end and a spear on the other. The blond elf tosses me my medpack.

The she-elf dispatches her opponent and calls to me, “ You may want to get under a table, or something.” In response to this, the blond elf roughly shoves me under the table. Three sets of elven boots walk past me and join the fray.

“What took so long?” the she-elf asks.

“Oh, you know, traffic,” one of the new elves replies. The next few minutes is a blur of battle cries, the clang of weapons, the thud of bodies hitting the ground and shuffling feet.

The room goes cold and all of the light seems to flee the room. The shadowwalker is here. I have a special candle for times like these. Somewhere. It will shine in any darkness.

I fumble through my medpack. Finally, my fingers grasp the candle, and the flint and steel. It seems to take forever for the candle to light but eventually the wick does catch. I crawl out from under the table and hold the candle up. An agonizing screech tears through the room. I shove the candle into the heart of the darkness, a region that seems thicker than the rest. The shadowwalker flies out the window, almost as if an invisible hand had pulled it away.

I lean back against the table. My hands shake. I have never been so scared in my life. The she-elf turns to me. “That was awesome!” she sounds positively cheery. What is wrong with this elf? She motors on, “What kind of candle is that? Do you have to be magic to use it? DO you have another one? Did you see me take down that goblin? I was all like POW! Oh…” she pauses. “You have that who-are-you-and-what-are-you-doing-in-my-house look. I k’Li, but most humans call me Karli. I’m the elf that just saved your life.”

The blond elf clears his throat. “The Blond Brooder over there is Randuul. He helped. A little.” Randuul raises his eyebrows. “Fine, a lot,” Karli admits. “Those other three I call my soldier boys. They’re great friends of mine.”

Randuul steps forward. “Those monsters were looking for something. Do you know what?” His eyes are accusing.

“Yes,” I cower under his gaze. I pull a fist-sized amber stone from my medpack. “The Healer’s Stone, it was my mother’s. She-” my voice breaks, “She died a few months ago. I have the power set to use the stone, but I can’t concentrate well enough.” Karli enfolds me in her arms. Randuul looks stone cold, so k’Li sticks her tongue out at him. I can’t help but smile.

“We have to get you out of here. They’ll be back and my protection spells won’t last forever.” Randuul warns us.

“Where will we go?” a small voice asks from behind me.

“Elym!” I cry, “Thank the light you’re okay!”

A thud sounds through the room, startling us all. “Shariel!” Karli gasps.

“Get him on the table,” I order, shifting to healer mode. “Elym, get me tam-tam, oakhart leaves, and bandages.”

“How do you know what you need?” Karli asks.

“I’ve seen wounds from their weapons before,” I reply grimly. Elym brings me the supplies I asked for. I see blood leaking through Shariel’s sleeve. I peel the saturated cloth away. The skin around the cut is turning purple. “How long ago did he get this?” I demand. Karli just shakes her head, still lost in shock. I dust my hands with tam-tam and place them on the wound (tam-tam is an herb used to increase concentration). Closing my eyes, I use my mind’s eye to see the poison. It has travelled all the way up his arm. Slowly, I begin drawing the poison out. It tries to squirm away from my magic, but I don’t let it go. I won’t let him die. Every desperate second feels like an eternity. Finally the poison is all expelled. I deftly crush oakhart leaves and place them in the wound to prevent infection. Then I carefully wrap the cut.

The elves and Elym stand waiting with bated breath behind me. “He’ll live,” I say, “If we get out of here alive.”

ⓒ Muriel Forester 2014

The First Attack

“Be careful with that arm, Daniel!” I call as he leaves.

“I will, Ariel,” he yells back.

Good, I think. I spent far too long mending that arm to have it get broken again. I startle at a knock coming from the back door. I open the door and am about what the injury is when I see my eight-year-old brother. “Elym,” I gasp. “You’re supposed to have left town with the Petersons. This town is about to become a warzone. It’s no place for a little boy.”

“It’s not a place for big sisters either is it?” he asks, walking past me into the house.

I sigh and sit on the floor. Elym climbs into my lap. “No, but it’s a place for healers. There will be a lot of people who need help,” I explain.

“Well, you help them and I’ll help you,” he replies.

Before I can object, the warning bells begin tolling. “Elym, go hide in Papa’s wardrobe, and close the doors!” I order. He stands and starts walking to the bedroom. But then he stops.

“You’re not going to send me away again, are you?” he asks.

“Elym!”

“Promise you won’t?”

“Fine, I promise. Now go!” I yell. Elym runs to Papa’s room. I rush around, locking doors and gathering food. We could be hiding for days. I’m almost to the wardrobe when I realize I forgot to lock the kitchen window and grab my medkit. I stash the food under the bed and race back to the kitchen. I can’t resist looking out the window and immediately wish I hadn’t. Orks, goblins, trolls, and even a shadowwalker are just down the street. I slam the shutters closed. Frantically, I search for my medkit. There it is over by the door.

I haven’t gone two steps when something hits the door. Hard. Then it hits again, even harder. I know I should run, hide, something, but I’m frozen. There’s a loud cracking sound as the wood around the lock breaks. Standing before me is a large ork with fangs. I do the only thing that comes naturally. I slap the ork.

For a moment Fang looks as shocked as me. Then he smiles. Cold steel presses into my throat. Orks and goblins swarm in around us. Fang’s eyes hold a childish sort of glee. He begins speaking rapidly in orkish. My breath comes in shallow heaves. Fang’s knife clatters to the floor and his head snaps back. A bloody knife protrudes from his chest. Fang falls to the ground. A dark haired she-elf stands behind him. “Hi,” she chirps, as if this is a normal meeting. Then she confronts a goblin with her sword.

I dash towards my medkit. Something, a goblin, I think grabs me by the tunic. I stomp on it’s foot until it lets me go.

“Duck,” someone calls. I obey without a thought. There’s a flash of silver and a slight breeze. My stomach flips when a goblin head rolls around my feet. My savior is a blond elf with a wok, a long weapon with a blade on one end and a spear on the other. The blond elf tosses me my medpack.

The she-elf dispatches her opponent and calls to me, “ You may want to get under a table, or something.” In resonse to this, the blond elf roughly shoves me under the table. Three sets of elven boots walk past me and join the fray.

“What took so long?” the she-elf asks.

“Oh, you know, traffic,” one of the new elves replies. The next few minutes is a blur of battle cries, the clang of weapons, the thud of bodies hitting the ground and shuffling feet.

The room goes cold and all of the light gets sucked out. The shadowwalker is here. I have a special candle for times like these. Somewhere. It will shine in any darkness.

I fumble through my medpack. Finally, my fingers grasp the candle, and the flint and steel. It seems to take forever for the candle to light but eventually the wick does catch. I crawl out from under the table and hold the candle up. An agonizing screech tears through the room. I shove the candle into the heart of the darkness, a part that seems thicker than the rest. The shadowwalker flies out the window, almost as if an invisible hand had pulled it away.

I lean back against the table. My hands shake. I have never been so scared in my life. The she-elf turns to me. “That was awesome!” she sounds positively cheery. What is wrong with this elf. She motors on, “What kind of candle is that? Do you have to be magic to use it? DO you have another one? Did you see me take down that goblin? I was all like POW! Oh…” she pauses. “You have that who-are-you-and-what-are-you-doing-in-my-house look. I k’Li, but most humans call me Karli. I’m the elf that just saved your life.”

The blond elf clears his throat. “That’s Randuul. He helped. A little.” Randuul raises his eyebrows. “Fine, a lot,” k’Li admits. “Those other three are my soldier boys. They’re great friends of mine.”

Randuul steps forward. “Those monsters were looking for something. Do you know what?” His eyes are accusing.

“Yes,” I cower under his gaze. I pull an amber stone from my medpack. “The Healer’s Stone, it was my mother’s. She-” my voice breaks, “She died a few months ago. I have the power set to use the stone, but I can’t concentrate well enough.” k’Li enfolds me in her arms. Randuul looks stone cold, so k’Li sticks her tongue out at him. I can’t help but smile.

“We have to get you out of here. They’ll be back and my protection spells won’t last forever.” Randuul warns us.

“Where will we go?” a voice asks from behind me.

“Elym!” I cry, “Thank the light you’re okay!”

A thud sound through the room. “Shariel!” k’Li gasps.

“Get him on the table,” I order. “Elym, get me tam-tam, oakhart leaves, and bandages.”

“How do you know what you need?” k’Li asks.

“I’ve seen wounds from their weapons before,” I reply grimly. Elym brings me the supplies I asked for. I see blood leaking through Shariel’s sleeve. I peel the saturated cloth away. The skin around the cut is turning purple. “When did he get this?” I demand. K’Li just shakes her head, still lost in shock. I dust my hands with tam-tam and place thim on the wound (tam-tam is an herb used to increase concentration). Closing my eyes, I use my mind’s eye to see the poison. It has travelled all the way up his arm. Slowly, I begin drawing the poison out. It tries to squirm away from my magic, but I don’t let it go. Every desperate second feels like an eternity. Finally the poison is all expelled. I deftly crush oakhart leaves and place them in the wound to prevent infection. Then I carefully wrap the cut.

The elves and Elym stand waiting with bated breath behind me. “He’ll live,” I say, “If we get out of here alive.”

ⓒ Muriel Forester 2014

Intro to Teloria

Hi Readers!

You have entered my little world of Teloria. I will try to post one story or rewrite a week. As I’m sure all of you know, life gets busy and sometimes my stories might be a little late. The idea is that I’ll post an original draft one week. Comment on it, please :).  Then the next week I’ll post an updated version.

Here’s some background on Teloria. Teloria used to be a peaceful and prosperous realm. A mutation spread across the West, making the orks infectious and violent. Soon other species were infected. A vaccine was found, but not before thousands were lost. Now a war rages between the infected and the pure.