Prologue

Tirtiri is invaded by demonic creatures.

    It was a warm spring afternoon, a slight breeze blew through the open field, giving the flowers and dandelions a dancing appearance that was almost trance like. A small stream ran through the field, making this a gathering for people and animals alike. A young boy about the age of seven ran about the tall grass showing only his dark brown hair which looked messy, as though an animal rested upon his head. The boy’s mother sat at the water’s edge, fishing, and writing. Fishing for their dinner that night, and writing of her husband lost in battle. The boy never knew his father, nor did he ask of him, he loved his mother with all his heart and knew she would always be there for him.

     The hour grew late, and the animals returned to their homes. The young boy became hungry, it had been a long day and he had not seen his mother for quite some time. His mother, slender young and beautiful with soft, long blonde hair. Her dress of silk spun from the thread of the Giant Spiders of the Eastern Plains, and trimmed with beautiful designs of flowers. She still sat by the stream, a catch of three lay close beside her. The boy made his way back, stopping a few times to observe the animals and insects. He reached the stream and approached his mother.
    “Would you like some dinner sweetie?” called his mother from just down the river.
    “Yes!” the boy said excitedly and ran for her as fast as his little legs could take him. When he reached her, she stood, and gave him her book bound in leather and they walked.

    As he cleaned off the last of his meal, his mother sat and knitted, he loved to watch her knit, to watch her weave the thread and make a beautiful tunic from something as simple as a ball of yarn. She made her living knitting, selling her beautiful creations at the market. She was fairly well known in Tirtiri for her work.
    “Mama,” the boy said, pausing to get her attention, “Will you tell me about the Mages again?” the young boy asked joyously.
    “You have heard it a hundred times,” replied his mother, “But if you wish, I will tell you again.” she said calmly. She then put away her materials and pulled her son onto her lap and began her story.

    “Long ago, before the time itself had begun, our land was in turmoil and destroyed by war.”
    “Why were they fighting?” the boy interrupted.
    “Let me explain child.” She said calmly, “The men of this time were corrupt, they wanted more and more power so they began fighting one and other for the world itself.”
    “Who won?” the boy asked curiously.
    “Let me finish my son.” She replied with more force, “Of these men Seven stepped forward and created the tower that marks our land with its violet glow.”
    “Those men were the Mages?” the boy asked curiously.
    “A Mage is a being with the power to control the stars, in the palm of their hand, and you my son, could even be one some day.” Replied his mother. “These magical men rule and counsel us. These seven Mages gathered at the central point of our lands, and create the Amethyst Tower. The tower, an ancient spire, made of pure amethyst stone. The source of all magic in our world. Its power weave-able by those who take the Wright of Amethyst. And thus our new world began, one with peace and prosperity. It stands above the castle walls by hundreds of feet, and is encircled by two large rings that endlessly move around it: those too are made of the magical stone. It is thousands of years old, but still looks as if it was erected yesterday.”
    “Tell about the Orb again mama,” the boy interrupted once again.
    “Yes my son, this day, a day we all know as the Day of Life. A time of great celebration, the day the Orb of Life was created by the Mages. Atop the spire, is the Chamber of Creations. This room was large in nature with magnificent white marble floors, from the edge of the circle room running from the ground up the walls and to the center point of the domed ceiling a vast starry sky. It seeming almost real to the eye but to the touch was cold marble and jet black. The stars and four blood red moons were painted by magic into its walls. In the center of this black and white room stood a pedestal of pure amethyst stone with engravings of white roses running up the side.”
    “I wish I could see it someday!” the boy said excitedly
    “You might be able to someday my son, but you cannot touch it. The Mages have protected the Orb with an ancient binding spell, which prevented anyone who is unworthy from removing it from its pedestal. Since that time, our city has been built around that tower, and no one but the King can access the Orb.”
 
     She looked down at her son who had drifted off to sleep. She sighed, kissed his forehead and then carefully brought him to his bed. It wasn’t grand but a small mattress and pillow made of straw. Woolen sheets and blankets were spread over it. She slowly placed the boy into bed and tucked him in.

    It was beginning to grow dark outside. Brilliant stars glimmered in the night sky. The moons massive, blood red. The symbols of evil and betrayal illuminate the streets below and animals scurry for scraps of food. The streets are very different by night in Tirtiri than by day. Only the homeless and scavengers prowl the streets at this hour.

    On main street a tavern stood, almost looking abandoned with its features. This tavern happened to be the highest class tavern in the whole city. ‘The Rusty Long Sword’ is its title, made to look rough around the edges on purpose. On the upper floor of this building. In a room at the end of the hall, lay a weary traveler, an elf with pale skin and short and slicked back.. Barely able to sleep he rose from his bed and gazed out the window. He could see beyond the
city. could see a vast forest with his sharp and icy blue eyes. This forest was supposedly filled with magical creatures. The elf pondered the existence of these creatures, wondering if he would ever see them or if people in Tirtiri were just always intoxicated. He had just entered his three hundred and fifteenth birth year, barely forty to the eyes of regular men and women. He wore scruff facial hair that was very uncommon for a snow elf, most of them had no facial hair at all. Believing that it made them more agile on the battlefield.
    “Bah! He scoffed aloud to himself. “I wonder if the pub is still open?” Just then a loud knock sounded at his door.
    “Yes?” He replied, wondering what anyone could want at this hour.

    “Mr. Nightwind, your presence is requested at the bar.”

    Nightwind? He thought. That was a well known name representing the royal family of  valor and wisdom in the Northlands. But how did this simple maid know who he was? He pondered some more before answering.

    “Ill be right down.” he replied through the large oak door.
    “Yes sir!” said the woman on the other side, before she scurried off back downstairs.

    He gathered his daggers and bow, but almost put them back. Why would I need my weapons at the bar? He thought to himself.
    “Too late now.” he said aloud as he left the room. As he moved down the hall he stepped on an loose floor board sending a loud creek through the upper floor, he grabbed for his daggers and realizing what he had done  sighed and continued down the stairs.

     Below, another elf stood with his arms extended waiting for him. This elf looked also had pale skin and blue eyes. He looked to be in his late forties, well if he were human. He also sported short slicked back hair, but it was slightly longer in the back. And it was complimented by similar facial scruff.
    “Its not everyday you find a Snow Elf in Tirtiri, and a fully armed one at that!” spoke the visitor.
    “This is the center of the world Darius, I assure you there have been stranger things.” The Snow Elf replied.
    “Arcbolt, how long has it been?” Darius asked.
    “To long old friend. Now, lets use this as an excuse for drink.” replied Arcbolt.

    The two friends sat for hours talking about past adventures.

    “Tell me Darius, how was your little visit with the trolls?”

    Arcbolt smirked before taking a drink.

    “Just as innovative as ever my friend, I really think you should have a look at their technology. Guns, and what did they call them again?” he thought to himself for a moment. “ Ah yes, Air Crafts.” Darius said enthusiastically.

     “Air Crafts?” Acrbolt said pausing between each word.
     “Yes, its like a boat, but it has wings and flies! Like a dragon! They say you can get from Diesel to Tirtiri in under a day.” Darius said excitedly. Arcbolt had to admit he was impressed, but skeptical. Diesel, he thought. What an unimaginative name, it was named after the crude oil found beneath it under ground. It was rumored that the Trolls had been using it to power their machines for nearly as long as he’d been alive.
     “That’s nearly two months by boat Darius.” Arcbolt replied.
     “I'm aware, that's why...” Darius began saying but was interrupted.

    “The pub is closing for the night fellas,” said the owner of the tavern.
    “Come now, why so early?” asked Darius.
    “Not all of us are night dwellers my friend,” replied the owner as he strode off to his room.

    Darius froze in place, how had the man noticed what he was? He wasn’t overly flaunting about it. He thought that the Mage part would draw attention away from it. He placed his hands on the table and looked down at them. They sparkled in the dim torchlight, their violet hue reflected the room at all angles. They were pure amethyst, down to the bone and all the way up to the shoulder, spidering through the veins in his torso and neck.
    “How did he..?” Darius asked confusingly
    “Darius, that man owns the best tavern in all of Tirtiri, the center of the land. He has had to have seen a vampire before.” Arcbolt said, finishing off his friends sentence.

    Off in the distance, the clanking of weapons and armor hitting rocks, sticks and other things. This was unusual, for the center of the world had no enemies. It was the one place where every race and species was welcome. The noise became louder. People near the outskirts of of the city may have been able to hear it, if they had not been asleep.

    Back at the tavern, Darius and Arcbolt still sat at the bar. A breath of silence passed over the two. At that moment, Darius had looked his friend right in the eyes. Arcbolt watched as Darius' pupils dilated and his eyes changed to a neon shade of purple which illuminated his face.
    “I don’t care what you say old friend, this is not good.” Darius calmly said to Arcbolt. He knew his friend was also aware of what was outside the city gates.

    “Come Darius, we stop the hell that is about to be unleashed upon this city.” Arcbolt spoke with extreme urgency in his voice, and the two left the tavern and disappeared into the shadows of the night.
 
     The house was pitch black, nothing stirred. The young boy was asleep in his bed sucking his thumb and humming to himself in his sleep. Loud clanks of steel on the cobblestone sounded in the streets. Sounds of shouting and screaming entered through his window. The boy was awoken by loud screams outside his door. What ever was going on outside in the streets had now entered his home. He crept from his bed and moved silently across his room and opened the door a crack. He saw two large creatures violently trashing a woman. He was not sure what the creatures were, from what he could see its skin was red and hit had large horns jutting from its forehead. He was sure that the woman being beaten by them was his mother.
    “Mama!” he yelled through the door crack.
    “Run Toran, and don’t stop until you are safe!” his mother yelled back at him from across the room, before her head was severed in right in front of him.

    Blood splatters shot across the room, his legs frozen in place. It took him a moment to realize what had just happened.
    “Get the boy!” The deep demonic voice shot from the other room startling him.

    Toran then turned and ran for the window in his room. Using all of his strength he climbed up on the windowsill, he let himself drop outside and ran. He ran straight for the back alleyways and crept behind the houses.

    Screams shot down the streets as people were gutted on sight by the mysterious intruders. Arcbolt ran through the crowd of people, twin daggers drawn and ready for battle. Striking down the armored figures quickly and skillfully. Darius leapt from building to building, hands illuminated with fire and ready for battle.
    “Who would attack Tirtiri?” Arcbolt shouted to his friend.
    “No sane person, that’s for sure!” Darius shouted back down, with humor in his voice.   
Just then Arcbolt froze.
    “Demokin!” he shouted.

    Out of the corner of his eye he saw one. It had been unmasked by a guard. Its face was deep red. Large horns grew from the front of its forehead.
    “I told you they couldn’t be sane!" Darius again shouted from the rooftops. As he shot fireballs down into the attacking army.

    Peering down the alleyways the boy watched as figures passed on the other end. Screams still sounded all over the city and the killings failed to halt. Toran crept through the backs of homes and alleyways continuing to make his way to the castle, the safest place this boy of seven years knew besides his home.
    “No unworthy person can remove the Orb from its pedestal.” his mothers voice sounded in his head.

    Realizing that the only safe place to go is the top of the tower. Toran ran clear for it. First jetting through the halls of the castle, not looking behind him while the demonic creatures slaughtered the people running about.

    Throughout the streets of Tirtiri, Arcbolt cut through the Demokin like a hot knife through butter. He was a skilled warrior and not unfamiliar to battle. Slaying every half-demon in his path and finally drawing his long bow when the creatures were to far for his daggers. Darius leapt from the rooftops to the ground drawing his Claymore, a large two handed sword, that was now illuminated with the fire from his hands. He cut through his foes with enormous vampire strength. Corpses of villagers and the Demokin lay in heaps of mangled body parts and blood, innards splayed across the city. Arcbolt was sure that there must be something more than bloodlust driving these creatures, Where were the Guards?.

    “Darius!” Arcbolt yelled from one horde of demons to his friend.
    “Can’t you see these beasts are making conversation with my blade?!” Darius replied with sarcasm.
    “Look where they are heading!” Arcbolt shot the words back at him, he didn’t see this to be the time for humor.

    Darius looked to see the half-demons still cutting down innocent people, but also noticed the direction they were heading.
    “The tower!” Darius roared and took off.

    Heading in the direction the Demokin were moving with tremendous, vampiric speed. Arcbolt took off after him, but Darius was already out of reach of his calls.

    Toran neared the top of the spiral stair case. Two large doors blocked the entrance to the room which his mother had described to him. He stepped foreword, and reached for the polished silver ring and heaved on it as hard as he could. The door groaned and opened slowly sending echoing creeks down the tower. Toran slipped himself inside the room. It was just as his mother described to him. The marble walls, cold to the touch, as the illusion of the night sky shined overhead. Four blazing red moons were also displayed on the domed ceiling. White marble floors starting at the base of the walls and meeting in the center of the room. And there is was the Amethyst pedestal with white roses engraved up its side. The sight was truly amazing to Toran, but the true amazement hovered only inches from the top of the pedestal. The Orb, black as night illuminated by a translucent violet flame. This dazzled the boy for a moment, but he was startled by the movement outside the large oak doors.

    Toran ran and hid just out of view of the doors across the room. The door then flew open and armored figures marched in. They wore suits, blazing red with minor black details painted over it. One of the figures seemed to lead the rest as they marched over to the Orb. Toran watched as the lead soldier removed its helmet. From its features it looked to be female, a scorching red face with two small horns erupting from her head.
    “The Orb of Life.” She hissed, “We have waited centuries for this glorious day!” She said with a strong but flat tone.

    The other soldiers cheered behind her as she reached for the Orb. Toran cowered, while watching as she touched it. She was thrown back several feet and was slammed into one of her men. The soldiers scrambled to her aid.
    “Don’t touch me you fools!” she growled, her stupidity seemed to leave her ego bruised.
    “I told you not to touch it!” The voice boomed through the tower. From a cloud of smoke a dark figure entered the room.
    “Useless fool. You, bent on greed have failed to listen to my orders. You should have known what would happen to you!”

    To Toran, this man sounded very angry but he could not get a glimpse of him.
    “Did you bring a child general?” The man asked the armored demon woman.
    “N...no sir.” She stuttered, sounding fearful, but stood her ground.
    “Just as expected.” the man replied with frustration, “I must find a child.”

    The man talked as he stepped closer to the Orb. Toran was angered, seeing this man’s army invade his home and kill his mother. He gathered his courage and stood, running and flailing his arms and coming in contact with the mans leg he shouted.

    “Don’t touch that!” Toran still pounded at the man.

    Toran felt the ground leave from under his feet. He looked to see the man staring into his eyes.
    “You see child, I cannot touch the Orb. Now, because you have been so kind to as to reveal yourself to me I can.” the mans voice echoed through the room.

    Toran felt regrets towards what he had just done, and vowed he would not help this man.
    “Ill never get it for you!” Toran yelled in the man’s face.
    “Then you will face death!” he snapped back.

    Out of the black smoke encircling the man appeared a blade pointed directly at the boy’s heart. Toran whimpered and fear took the best of him. Tears poured from his eyes and he stopped struggling against the invisible force.
    “That’s better.” Said the man.

    Toran felt his feet touch the ground once again. He slowly made his way over to the pedestal, and reached for the Orb. As the boy touched the Orb a wind seemed to blow upon him, moving his hair and ruffling his clothes. Still holding the Orb he stepped down and cried. The Tower began to shake under their feet, and loud cracking echoed the room like thunder. The man then tore the Orb from the boy’s hands.
    “Many thanks to you boy, for casting doom upon the world.” he grinned sarcastically.    
The man walked towards the door with his general following close behind. He then turned to face the boy, his words made Toran’s heart thud.
    “Kill him.” no emotion in the man’s voice, no regret as he vanished into a cloud of smoke with his general.

    Toran stood watching and didn’t notice the blade being raised above him. It hit him with tremendous force, splitting his stomach from end to end, the boy collapsed.

Author's Note

I accept any crits, I've been working on this for a very long time, and am now happy with it 3 other chapters are written and are currently being edited.

Reviews

[hardscoper6]

aw so good!