Lance, The FreeWriter

Lance, The FreeWriter is the beggining of a collection of short stories. I am mainly just experimenting with the plot, so I can later expand on it and turn it into a novel sereis.

     “Since the dawn of man people have been conveying information through stories. At the beginning these stories explained the world around us. But as people heard these stories, they began to let their imagination get involved and created even more exciting"but less accurate"stories. These stories have become known as legends, and have drowned out the earlier stories of truth.

     Now I emphasize that these stories were communicated before language became written, and because of that some of these legends were lost, while many more have yet to have been collected.  That is my job, to collect these legends, write them down, and store them away. I am a Scribe for the land of Ishmiar.

     I am part of a group of sixteen scribes who travel this vast desert region in search of the stories, and also a little bit of money on the side. We are the Free Writers, magical scribes that travel to our hearts content, meeting up every five years in order to share what we have learned and store it in our massive vault of information known as the Free Library. Yes, I realize we weren’t very creative in our names, but we spend all our free time using all our cool ideas. And besides...“

     “Lance!” Kyle hissed, “Shut the hell up already.”

     “Why?” I asked, “Do you not enjoy my monologues?”

     “Not when I'm trying to sleep you idiot!”

     “Why do you sleep Kyle?” I looked at the starry sky, “You can sleep enough when you’re dead.”

     Kyle rolled over in his sleeping bag, “Why the pen of fire chose you I will never understand.”

     I smiled, “the same reason the pen of wind chose you young one, it is fate.”

     He shot up in his sleeping bag, “Don’t call me ‘young one’ when your seven years younger than me!”

     I shrugged and rolled over pretending to sleep. “My name was Lance Hawthorn, but now I am Lance Firewriter formally, but most people still call me Lance. I became a Free Writer during the last great meeting when my mentor, Borris Firewriter, retired from the position. It was then that the pen of fire chose me as its next master. And ever since that day I have been given the ceremonial robes of the Free Writers, a long black cloak with sleeve colors depending on your element"mine where red"with gold trim. It also had the insignia of the free writers which was an open notebook being written in by a magic pen. This magic pen is known as the Pen of Dreams. The pen of dreams is located deep within the sanctuary of the free writers. The main purpose of the meeting every 5 years is to change who the guards will be, and every once in a while a new DreamWriter will be chosen. Every FreeWriter wants the infinite power of a...”

     “I said shut the Hell up Damnit!” Kyle pounced at me

     I instinctively reached for my pen and a stream of fire burst from it. I quickly lost control of the stream and singed the left arm of Kyle’s cloak, along with his left arm. He reached for his pen and a gust of wind burst forth from it and extinguished my flames.

     “Learn to control you damn magic newbie.” He sighed

     “I am not a newbie, I am...”

     “‘Lance Firewriter’,” he interrupted, “‘The one trained by the great Borris Firewriter himself!’ we know this, you tell us this every god damn day! You weren’t even half the man that Borris was. You will never be like my father, so why don’t you just give up!”

     I sighed, “I often forget that Kyle is rather...”

     “Stop it with the freaking monologues already! I'm trying to sleep here!”

     “I decided it would be in my best interest to stay silent.”

     “That’s it punk,” Kyle reached for his pen, “I’m too irritated to sleep right now. You are going to get a taste of a real FreeWriter’s power!” He grabbed his pen and pumped a large amount of magical energy into it, turning it into a long sword.

     I frantically grasped for my pen and pumped all of my magic into it. The weapon that formed was the weapon of my mentor, a flaming whip. Each time a new FreeWriter is chosen they are supposed to use their magic to command the pen to change into a weapon more suited to their fighting style, I have yet to do so after these 3 years.

     Kyle slashed his sword and a gust of wind burst from it. The wind picked up all the loose sand in the desert and formed his ‘Sandstorm’ attack.

     I circled the fire whip around my body and tried to recreate Borris’ special shield, “Salamander Shield!” The flames burst from the whip and encased me in a tube of flames, but the circulation of the whip was too close and I started my cloak on fire. I lost my concentration and the whip turned back into a pen.

     “Put it out!” I shouted. Just then the ‘Sandstorm’ hit me and set me flying against the wall of a nearby mountain. At least it put out the fire before it burnt my precious cloak.

     Kyle pulled me out of the side of the mountain, “You will never be as great of a FreeWriter as my father was, so just stop trying. Why don’t you just try to create your own style?”

     “Because” I struggled free of the mountain wall, “Salamander was the best Firewriter of all! And his attacks are perfect!”

     Kyle sighed, “It took my dad years to design the techniques to fit him specifically. And it took him about half of his life as a FreeWriter to perfect them.”

     “Borris could have been the next DreamWriter if he didn’t quit! I want to carry on his legacy and become the greatest DreamWriter just for him!”

     “You will never be like my dad!” Kyle screamed, “So just give up already!”

     “Never!” I dove for the pen of fire and conjured up the only attack that Borris had taught me to use. “I summon thee: Salamandra!” The pen sent out a large stream of fire, torching the sand pitch black, and surrounding itself to form the shape of a huge Fire Salamander.

     “So you can summon forth Salamandra, am I supposed to be impressed?” He placed his sword in the ground, “I summon thee: Accipiter!” The wind swirled around the sword and the sand below Kyle as the magic fused with the sand and took the shape of a large hawk. Kyle held onto the blade that stuck into Accipiter’s back and sneered, “The pen would never choose someone who couldn’t even perform a summoning! Stop acting so high and mighty.”

     I forced my magic into the pen to transform it into a whip, “I can do more than just summoning!” I took the whip and forced it to burst into flames and whipped at Salamandra’s tail, fusing the two together. My magic pulsated within me and I sent a huge wave of energy into Salamandra.

     “Fool!” Kyle hissed, “My father never perfected that technique, you could kill us both!”

     “No I won’t!” I focused intently on the energy control, “Because I will be the one to surpass your father and become the next DreamWriter!” Salamandra began to store up all the magic as fire inside his mouth. Energy control is vital, too much and his head blows up, too little and the attack has no force.

     Kyle began to focus magical energy into the wings of the hawk, “Damn you, you idiotic noble! If you kill us both I’ll...I’ll,” He sighed, “Ahh screw it, Accipiter Attack: Wings of Rage!” ‘Wings of rage’ is one of Accipiter’s strongest attacks. What happens is that multiple tornadoes of sand form around Accipiter’s wings. And of course, these tornadoes were aimed at Salamandra.

     I finally reached the required energy level. “Salamandra Attack: Blazing Phoenix!” Wings of fire Exploded from Salamandra’s back and he began to fly in the air. The fire surrounded the tornadoes, taking control of them. Then all the fire stored up in Salamandra’s mouth was released in one powerful fire stream.

     Kyle countered, “Accipiter Attack: Sandstorm Gale!” Accipiter flapped his wings sending a huge gust of wind into the sand and whipped of a huge sandstorm. The sand and wind doused Salamandra’s Flames. I had to focus all of my energy in order to keep Salamandra himself from getting drowned in the attack.

     By the time the sandstorm subdued Kyle had used it as cover to get close to me and was holding his sword to my neck. “Game over, Now go to sleep.”

     I sighed and released my hold on Salamandra. The charred sand that my magic had gripped fell to the ground and the whip returned to being a simple Pen again.

     Kyle chuckled, “You really should create your own creature and attacks. Sure Salamandra may be powerful, but you can always use him once you personalized your pen. There was only one Salamandra Firewriter, and there shall be no other. You must make your own legacy, not ride on the legacy of my father.”

     “I did not take what Kyle said well, but he said it so kindly that I had no choice but to just move on with it all. I guess it's true when...”

     Kyle punched me, knocking me to the ground, “Alright that is something that you will have to just stop doing, especially at night.”

     I rubbed my check, “you know you didn’t have to do that.”

     He sighed, “And you know I did.”

     “No I didn’t”

     “Would you have shut-up otherwise?”

     “Did I shut up now?”

     He kicked me and walked away. I guess this was something I would have to put up with. I rolled over, wrapped myself up in my cloak and went back to sleep.

     I later awoke abruptly with a boot in my gut.

     “Wake the hell up already,” Kyle Hissed, “I packed up Camp and our horses are ready for departure. We can make it to the next town by sundown if we hurry.” He left without another word.

     I just shrugged, got up, dusted myself off, and ran after Kyle.

     I mounted Borris’ old horse, Salamandra, while Kyle mounted his horse, Accipiter. “Our horses were named after our Creatures. Once I created my own weapon and creature I would get a new horse. No offense to Salamandra, but she was old.”

     Kyle knocked me off of Salamandra with the blunt end of his pen-sword, “Shut the hell up already.”

     I climbed back on to Salamandra and we continued riding all day, in silence, to the next town. We tied up our horses next to the tavern and wandered inside.

     A short, rugged man was sitting in the corner. His long, scraggly beard covered half of his face. He looked at us with a wandering eye, and spoke words of misery, “You two, young men, look at me and hear my word. Leave this place before you two are stuck under the curse of the Flutist with the black cloak” suddenly the man saw the symbol of the FreeWriter on their cloaks; he began to stammer with wide eyes as if he has seen a ghost. “You! You are them! Them! The ones that can save us! Thank you FreeWriters! Your Colors show that you must be FireWriter and WindWriter! You two are legends around these parts. Kyle WindWriter and Salamander FireWriter, but you” He pointed at me, “You look younger than they made you out to be Salamander.”

     I smiled, “That is because I am not Salamander, I am the newest addition to the FreeWriters, I am Lance FireWriter.”

     The man looked disappointed, “Well then, all hope is lost. Only the real Salamander could have stopped the Dark Poet.”

     Kyle seemed surprised, “The Dark Poets are here?”

     The old man nodded, “Only one, he appears here every day around here and plays his flute of death. He has a horrible demon called Salachimorpha, a large shark that can shred anyone to pieces. That demon listens to the flute and rampages around destroying anyone who stands in his way. My own son perished to in attempt to save this town!”

     I raised my hand, “Alright, I have one quick question. What are the dark poets?”

     Kyle shook his head, “they are our enemies. They are ones who killed the three FreeWriter guards and took over our home.”

     The old man looked at us, “Does that mean you will stop the Dark Poet?”

     Kyle nodded, “Well, one of the duties of the FreeWriters is to stop all tyranny caused by the Dark Poets.” He looked at the clock, “He should be here shortly then, eh? Lance you stay here.”

     “No!” I protested, “I can fight just as well as you can.”

     Kyle shook his head, “You are not ready to face a Dark Poet. You don’t even have a personalized weapon. You need your own legacy to challenge the powers of a Dark Poet.”

     “Fine then,” I mumbled, “But I have one question for you first.”

     “What is it?”

     “Why would a single Dark Poet be in this little town?”

     Kyle sighed, “World domination starts on a broad range, but ends with taking out the small areas. Basically, the Dark Poets are closer to their goals than we thought.”

     Just then our conversation was interrupted by a high pitched tweeting sound outside. My whole body became tense and my entire mind went numb. This was war.

     “It's him!” the old man hissed, “The Poet of Salachimorpha.”

     Kyle grabbed his pen, it turned into his sword. “Lance, if you must go, just sit back and watch. This is my fight”
     I shrugged and followed. The Dark Poet was standing in the middle of the dirt road playing his flute. Kyle shoved his sword into the ground and summoned Accipiter, not making any utterance of the sort. The seriousness in his face almost scared me.

     “Ahh, the WindWriter,” The Poet jeered, “You have come to bless my presence, eh?” He held out his flute, “maybe your Accipiter would like to meet my Salachimorpha!” Just then, a large about of liquid burst from the desert sand and mixed with it to form the shape of a giant shark.

     Kyle didn’t even bat an eye, he sent a large sandstorm heading straight towards the fish, but then the Poet began to play his flute. Water encircled the poet in a vortex and the shark dove into the sand. Despite the powerful sandstorm, the poet and his beast were unharmed.

     Kyle began to focus a large amount of magic into Accipiter. He pulled the sword out of the birds back and jumped off. Then the winds began to twist around Accipiter as Kyle prepared his ultimate attack, “Attack Accipiter!” Kyle shouted, “Dive-bomb Gale.” Accipiter dove towards the Dark Poet.

     “You are a fool you know that?” He sneered, “You really think that you have the strength to take me out with that simple attack?” The shark burst through the ground and latched its jaws onto Accipiter. Kyle charged towards the poet with his sword, but whips of water snapped his arm and sent the sword skidding across the sand.

     “Kyle!” I ran over to his side, “Are you alright?”

     He looked at me wearily, “Dad told me about this guy once. He failed in fighting him, he was a devilish flutiest that controlled water. He went by the name Tryten. You need to run Lance, you can’t beat him. Take my pen and run!”

     I shook my head and propped Kyle up against the wall of the tavern, “No, now this is my fight.”

     Tryten shrugged his shoulders as I squared off against him, “If you both attacked at once you might have beaten me. But now you are to face certain death.”

     “My pen turned into a whip. I scorched the ground with the fire and summoned forth Salamandra without saying anything. I may be a talkative sort in a casual manner, but when I get down to business I barely make a sound.”

     Tryten cocked his head, “what the hell are you talking about?”

     I smirked, “Salamandra, attack!” but before Salamandra could make a move that shark ripped through its gut like it was nothing.

     “You are defiantly more of a fool than the WindWrtier!” He jeered, “You are just trying to copy Salamander! Not even the real Salamander could defeat me, so what makes you think that you could?”

     “I hate to admit but he had a point. I couldn’t use master Borris’ old tricks in order to save the day. I had to do so myself.” The whip turned back into a pen, it was time for me to create my own Legacy. It was then that I remembered Borris’ last lesson to me.

#

     It has been nearly four years since Borris gave me his last lesson.

     “Come here boy,” He called out in his old raspy voice, “I have something I want to show you.”

     “Really?” I ran over to him, “Is it another attack for Salamandra that I can learn?”

     He smiled; his old eyes were full of kindness. “Why no young Lance, this is something that you may be able to use when you create your own creature.” Just then he summoned forth a Salamandra twice the size of a normal Salamandra.

     For once I couldn’t even utter a single sound; its size was beyond comparison. It had to be about the size of twenty taverns.

     “This is magic that not even I can fully mater young writer. It is magic called ‘Size Change’ “

     “Size change?” I asked, “What is that?”

     He smiled, “allow me to show you.” Just then his whip fused with Salamandra’s tail. Then Salamandra began to shrink dramatically and a large amount of fire magic burst forth from Borris’ other arm. Eventually Salamandra shrunk to about the size of my arm, and then he completely fused with the whip.

     “That’s amazing! You just shrunk him, the flames from your hand, and the fusion with the whip, and the FWOOSH! It was spectacular!”

     The old man smiled, “But unfortunately all I can do is teach you this magic. I cannot use it; it would require a special weapon. And I am not about to change weapons just to use one new technique when I already have many other good ones at my disposal.”

     “Then why show me?”

     He ignored my question, “Lance, do you know how magic is transferred?”

     I nodded, “Spirit, Mind, Body, and Reality. The strength of the spirit is focused by the mind and transferred to the body and then brought into reality by the magic objects, like the FreeWriter pens.”

     Chuckling, he nodded, “Yes, that is true, but it is not what I'm talking about. The object is the means of transferring the magic, but how is this so?
     I shrugged.

     “Earthly minerals, mainly metal.” He grinned, “My whip has a metal tip and a metal core. This means that my magic can transfer energy by only physical contact. Now sure, by using contact with the oxygen in the air, I get flames, but to use Size Change, I need one of two things: physical contact with the metal, or a much larger metal object.”

     “What if you had both?”
     He chuckled, “Well then, that would be most powerful indeed.”

#

     I felt a tear streak down my face, “I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out what you wanted me to do Salamander. Too bad you can’t be here to see your magic become perfected.” It was then that I felt ‘The Mark of Nobility’ appear below my right ear on the corner of the jawbone. ‘The Mark of Nobility’ is simply a birthmark, but a birthmark with power. It gives the nobles exactly what the nobles have, more power. The Hawthorn clan’s birthmark was a dragonfly. It may seem odd, but it is actually more powerful than you would think. It was finally time for me to create my own weapon, and my own legacy.

     My pen grew into two different gauntlets one was thin and tight against my left arm. The other bulky with a small, thin kite shield welded on top of it. A series of wires wrapped themselves around my body and met at a point on my back. At this point four metallic plates formed and from each one of them a flaming dragonfly wing formed.

     I held forth my right arm and sent a large burst of magic into the surrounding area.

     “My pet I summon the: Fly, Dragona Dragonfly!” Flames began to engulf the entire area. They slowly shaped and melded into the size of a gigantic dragonfly; my new creature, twice the size of Salamandra, Dragona.

     Tryten seemed amused at first, but then burst into laughter. “That thing is huge! How do you expect to hit me with such a large summoning? The bigger they are the easier they are to hit!”

     “Exactly” I smiled as I held up the shield gauntlet and absorbed the flames from Dragon and transferred them into my dragonfly wings. Dragona shrunk to about the size Salamandra was.

     Kyle was in awe, “How did you do that?”

     I smiled, “Shrink, one of the two magic attacks that your father left behind.”

     He stared at me with amazement. Was he finally beginning to recognize me as a great FreeWriter? Or was he just shocked I was doing more than just simple imitations.

     Tryten chuckled, “I don’t care if you shrink that damn thing, or if your flaming wings got bigger. Salachimorpha will shred through you two as if you were insects!”

     I smiled, “One, a dragonfly is an insect. And two” Dragona divided itself into millions of tiny dragonflies, “You haven’t even begun to see what we are capable of.”

     He smirked, “So you have a multiply ability? Is that supposed to scare me you fallen noble?”

     “You are gravely mistaken.” About a hundred of the small dragonflies charged at Tryten in a streak of flames. “This isn’t a multiply ability. It is a scatter ability. And also I am not a fallen noble,” The shark tried to attack me from my right, but I held up my Gauntlet and a dragonfly landed on it. Then by pumping some magic from my wings into the little dragonfly it grew and absorbed the attack and threw that blasted shark back into the sand in a fiery explosion, “I am no longer a noble, I am a FreeWriter”

     The swarm of dragonflies charged towards Tryten in a flash of flames. He placed the flute up to his lips and played a few notes, and a veil of water burst from the sand and shielded him from the attack.

     “You are foolish all the same,” He sneered, “how can you expect mere insects to destroy that which is the great ‘Dark Poet of the Flute, Tryten’”

     “What makes you think that their main goal was to destroy you?”

     “What other purpose would that attack serve as?”

     “A distraction.” Just then, a swarm of small Accipiter hawks attacked Tryten. He tried to fight them back, but was caught by surprise and unable to defend himself properly

     I looked and smiled at Kyle. He was holding two large, wide bladed, metal swords. He also had two large hawk wings filled with wind magic. He had modified his weapon so he could use the magic as well.

     I laughed, “So you figured out the technique already?”

     He nodded, “It is rather quite cleaver; using your weapons as a medium to transfer the magic that is. The wider the metal objects, the easier it is to transfer magic from a distance, the excess magic from a shrink is then stored into the wings. They act as a reserve so you can use ‘grow’ without using excess magic. My only question is why your left gauntlet is so thin? That means that to transfer magic you will need to have direct contact. Also with two wide objects the transfer can take place faster. So why so thin?”

     “Do you know why your father wanted to create this magic?”

     “To increase Salamandra’s speed so she can use physical attacks and conserve magic.”

     “Yes, but even if you shrunk Salamandra to the size of a flea, it would never move as fast as a human on two legs.” I smiled, “But with a thin gauntlet...”

     Kyle interrupted, “Salamandra can fuse with the gauntlet and essentially move at a higher speed”

     I held out the left gauntlet and summoned Salamandra, “Exactly.” Then I shrunk Salamandra and fused him with the left gauntlet. The gauntlet became surrounded in a veil of flames that was made even stronger by being fueled with my wings of fire. My birthmark itched a little bit as some of its power leaked into the fire magic causing the flames to turn a royal blue.

     I charged towards Tryten readying for a large impact. Kyle maneuvered the hawks to keep Tryten busy, but still allow me a wide opening. As I closed in on him I swung a hard punch. And just before the flames touched him, I pushed a large amount of magic into the Salamandra Gauntlet to cause it to grow to the size I saw him the day Borris’ summoned him to first use Size Change. Tryten became engulfed by the Royal Blue flames and became a large pile of ashes sitting in a pool of a melted silver flute.

     I released all control over the magic and was left with just the pen in my hand. Kyle placed his pen in his ear and came over to my side with a large grin on his face.

     “Lance you incompetent fool,” He put me in a headlock, “Who would of thought that you had it in you!” He pointed to my new birthmark, “and I never thought that you would awaken your family’s birthmark either.”

     I smiled, “It definitely is the beginning of a new day, isn’t it?”

     The old man from the tavern walked up to us and joined our conversation, “Yes, it is a new beginning young FireWriter. Not only for you, but for this village, we will forever be indebted to you, Dragonfly FireWriter.”

     I laughed, “Dragonfly, huh?”

     Kyle smiled releasing from his headlock, “Dragonfly FireWriter, maybe even greater than Salamander himself. Dragonfly, the next DreamWriter.”

     I touched my dragonfly birthmark and sighed. Well Dad, I thought, it looks like I might finally be able to make you proud after all.

 

 

Author's Note

The same as I usually say, be brutal. Only through constructive critisizm and practice can I improve myself as a writer.

Reviews

[Shellie]

There's no need to be brutal.. To me, its a great story. Couldnt tear my eyes away. Its clever and very imaginative but also interesting!!!
The only criticizm i have is that in the midst of the fight Kyle and Lance were discussing tactics etc and it doesnt seem right to have them chatting while me man was about to attack. The other thing is a grammar and spell checkeg this line toward the end..
.'I smiled, “It defiantly is the beginning of a new day, isn’t it?”

defiantly should be definitely, yes? Judged the context.

But the story is genius and very creative.