One: The Rain and The Fire

The dark overcast wasn’t the only thing providing Zhuge with ill feeling. The present required him to worry whether a heavy downpour would ruin his parent’s crops, but he felt a future was looming where the fields of grain and corn would be secondary to armies, weapons and blood. While he enjoyed practise fighting, he believed against well trained men he wouldn’t last longer than a few minutes.

                “Those clouds look bad,” said Lo, a large well-built man compared to Zhuge who was average in height and more agile.

                “Yeah...” sighed Zhuge, “The worst of our problems are once again out of our hands.”

                Lo heartily chuckled as he often did when Zhuge turned philosophical on him, not because he didn’t understand Zhuge’s thoughts and problems but because he wasn’t very good at those deep talks.

                “We’ve got through worse,” said Lo, laughing again until his body shook up and down. It bought a smile to Zhuge’s face.

                “You're right!” he replied, “We can overcome anything.”

                Lo gave Zhuge a strong pat on the back and stood beside him as they watched the sun lower beneath the grey clouds, eclipsing the horizon in its decent. All they could hope for was a reasonably dry night as they left the field and returned to their simple homes.

                The plates sat between Zhuge and his parents were mostly piled with imported goods from nearby towns and villages. Despite the filling and delicious food, the conversation at the table had grown stiff and awkward, often with whole meals eaten in silence. Zhuge’s dad, Bale, wanted to leave town to prevent the war reaching home, but his wife, Karen, had been insistent he stay put in Tul’Dun which was in the north of Rund.

                Zhuge was torn; he didn’t believe his father could stop fighting entering their village and yet he also thought his mother was naive for believing they’d be safe. By the end of the night it wouldn’t matter. Right then, as the smell or burning entered Zhuge’s clear nostrils and distant screams were heard, was when the war reached home.

                Outside there was rising smoke from nearby houses. Fire of yellow and red scorched the land while fire of anger and horror burned in Zhuge’s eyes.

                “I told you!” cried Bale who had picked up a sword from inside.

                “What are you doing?” asked Karen, grabbing Bale firmly by the arm. Bale shrugged her off easily and with his sword high in the air ran towards the smoke.

                “Father!” yelled Zhuge unsure of what it would accomplish. He paused; what should he do next? “Mother, do we have another sword?”

                “Oh no!” snapped Karen, “I’m not losing you as well.”

                “Father won’t die,” replied Zhuge backing away.

                “Don’t go!” she begged, but Zhuge had already run away in the opposite direction to the fires. His father was a tremendous swordsman who could hold his own for at least a little while whereas Lo’s skills with his beloved spear weren’t quite as good. So it was Zhuge’s first decision of the war to seek out his friend.

                In a cruel twist Zhuge had got his wish of no rain which would have at the very least reduced the fire, the damage and the panic. It felt odd that the thought crept into his mind at this time. Just as quick as it had come, Zhuge lost track of the rain and crashed into someone in his haste. Fearing the worst he jumped straight to his feet and feebly put his fists up. The gesture was returned with a hearty laugh which lacked some of its usual joy.

                “Calm yourself,” said Lo with his spear armed.

                “My father,” panted Zhuge and Lo placed a large hand on his shoulder.

                “Let’s go,” he said leaning in close before pulling away and unsheathing a sword, “Take this and show them we’re more than peasants!”

                Hesitantly, Zhuge took the blade and gazed long and hard as the fire reflected in the scratched iron.

                “Don’t get left behind!” yelled Lo charging furiously. Zhuge’s mouth dropped; how did Lo have such courage? It didn’t matter because as his friend had said he was in danger of being left behind. Nervously Zhuge ran after him, his voice not as fearsome as Lo’s when he roared.

                Rain broke the boundaries of Zhuge’s subconscious again. If only it would fall. Fall to the ground. Just like a body did. A body?! Zhuge saw his first casualty of the war; out from behind a building the sound of slipping steel parted company with a kneeling corpse that fell to the ground.

                Zhuge didn’t let up his charge though it was no longer him making his legs work. A mix of adrenaline and fear took care of that. Then a man stepped over the body with little care. His face was dirty and tense, eyes peeled for anything. Yet his eyes failed to catch Zhuge who continued his charge and to his surprise found the sword had stabbed forward into the man’s side.

                Both men choked, one because of shock and the other because of a punctured lung. As the enemy crashed to the floor, Lo came back to see why Zhuge was being held up.

                “Your first kill,” he said, “Can’t have you beating me.”

                Lo signalled with his hand it was time to move on and Zhuge staggered away from the corpse before running away. His heart was pounding so hard he almost didn’t hear himself think, rather wonder, whether the rain would wash away the dried blood in the hardened earth. It could so easily wash away his crops, why not everything else?

                Up ahead surrounded by dancing embers was a small skirmish. It was obvious to see who the peasants were for they were the ones swinging their swords wildly and generally not connecting with anything. Somehow they were managing to hold their own.

                “Get out of my village!” yelled Lo. He dived into the fray and swung his spear in an arc in front of him, forcing the enemy unit back. Zhuge stopped just behind the line of farmers with his sword nervously raised above his head.

Sucking up, he tried to jump another unsuspecting soldier, but he was sharper and confidently deflected Zhuge’s attack. Quickly the soldier countered with a strike of his own which Zhuge parried. A gap opened and swiftly Zhuge stabbed through the flimsy lamellar cuirass. The soldier stumbled backwards and Zhuge quickly turned to his next target. However, the soldier managed to strike Zhuge in the side of the head with the face of the blade. It hurt for a second before the world became charred and black.

He woke in the grey light of the next day propped up against a stray wooden beam that no longer supported a house. The ground was covered in soot and ash and apart from the odd house here or there, the land was very flat and visible. Chaos had dispersed from the air; the shouting and clashing of weapons was replaced for the most part with silence, broken only by the odd rumble of distant thunder.

“Good to see you’re awake,” said Lo from behind which scared Zhuge. He didn’t laugh to announce his presence.

“I was hit...” mumbled Zhuge, “Did we win?”

Lo simply put his arms out as if wanting Zhuge to look around him.

“We managed to force The Originale back,” said Lo, “But I wouldn’t say we won.”

He put his arm out and pulled Zhuge up who felt a little queasy getting to his feet. From there he could see the crop fields had been wiped out entirely by the blaze and the many badly burned and wounded people around him being tended to with the limited supplies available. Horrifically there were also many white blankets covering those who had perished in the blazing battle.

“Do you know what happened to my parents?” asked Zhuge, the first stomach cramping thought that came to him upon seeing the destruction.

It was as if Lo wanted to laugh to try and break the tension but all that came out was a grim hum. “Mother dead. Father missing.”

A single rain drop splashed on Zhuge’s forehead followed by a loud roar of thunder. In a flash of lightning the rain became torrential. Misery poured from the Heavens. Zhuge screamed. The rain was too late.

Author's Note

Chapter 2: http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Honourfish/776621/

Reviews

[dreaming dame]

Intense, but nice. :)

[nostal]

S**t just got real. I must read on.

[Honourfish]

Nicely written man :P set the scene nicely! got an idea for second chapter will start writing straight away :)

Chapter 2 is up on my profile... now time for you to write chapter 3! :P

[Tasha]

Wow, great write.
♥ Ta'Shandra

[李[A]]

I enjoy how you love writing about war, and fights, conflict, etc. Anyways, here's my lengthy review for you!

First off, I was slightly bothered by this: “Your right!” he replied, “We can overcome anything.” Correction should be "You're" (probably a typo). Anyways, moving on.

I enjoyed the names you gave the characters just because they give it a special touch-- nice and foreign, yet full of meaning. I searched up 诸葛 (Zhuge) and found the connection you used there which I found quite interesting in terms of cerebral strength. I'm not so sure where Lo came from (possibly Luo? from Zhuge if you could confirm this). Anyways, I like the way you can use dialog very fluidly while describing the setting and setting the mood (all of which I can't do :P). Also, so far the plot, etc. are very interesting. So far, this seems to be a good amount of exposition, perhaps a bit too much plot, but nonetheless a good start to a story. The thing I'd like to see more of would be implicit description of the characters. Also, you might like the word "inundate" which means to flood toward the end of the story. Nonetheless, wonderful read! I enjoyed it and will look forward to it! If you want something to read, I'll put a poem up later. Anyways, kudos to you on a wonderful start and I look forward to the exchanging chapters!

[Darkest Rose]

Wow! I love this. You brought the scene to life around the writer! Keep up the awesome writing :)