The Beginning

 

“Shallow’s Moor would be an excellent starting point.” Moloth said to his brother Molock. Moloth’s tall form was bent over a large, hand-drawn map. Molock paused in his pacing to look at him.

“I suppose…but the shadow land there is completely guarded. We couldn’t get passed them without clearance. And I don’t see how we could get that.”  Moloth’s red-brown eyes darkened.

“True…” Molock threw up his hands and continued his trek up and down the high-walled, circular room. 

“But, why couldn’t we convince them to join us? They are our kin after all…I would think that, as evil as they are, they would want powerful allies.” Molock’s black eyes met his brother’s for a moment.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t try. They aren’t stupid, though. We will have to be very…shall we say…straight forward.”

“Aye.” Moloth nodded then bared his teeth. “We need those blasted dragons! “ Molock grinned back darkly.

“And dragons we shall have…”

 

 

A young elf maid sat fidgeting before 3 majestic centaurs. Her hair was a silvery color with sheens of a soft purple. Her skin was fair with flecks of brown and her eyes matched the purple in her hair.  She was dressed in the simple, but elegant, wrap-like dress that her people wore for such occasions as these. The dress was a pale shade of purple with silver and blue accents all around the neck, waist and sleeves. Her big eyes moved between the three centaurs before her. One of them finally spoke.

“If what you say is true, then this is what we have foreseen from the beginning.” The centaur’s voice was smooth and strong, which fit his strong, handsome body. His hair was a tuscan-red color, as was his tail and body. His skin tone was a much lighter hue, and his eyes were a deep brown, which never seemed to end.  He looked at the other two with him, his eyes meeting dark blue and aqua eyes.  The one with the dark blue eyes was the next to speak. Her voice was also strong, with a commanding tone to it, but was hushed.

“Aye, Tuscan, we have now received the knowledge we need to understand the vision.”

“But,” cut in the aqua eyed centaur. Her voice was softer, less commanding, with a melodic sound to it. “What about the return of the star? It has been two hundred years since they were taken from us, with the promise that they would return!” she picked up her green colored hooves in a light prance.

“Peace!” uttered Tuscan. “Seanna, we were promised…it will happen in the right time. This evil that has blossomed throughout the last 200 years will not prevail.” He looked calmly at Seanna, an aqua green colored centaur with fair skin and silver colored hair and tail, and tried to encourage her. Seanna glanced at Oceana, her sister, whose dark blue eyes probed her with questions. Oceana’s body was a dark blue-green color, her skin a light-tan hue, and her hair and tail, vibrant silver.

Oceana looked softly at the elf maid before them.  “Wysteria, you have been a great help. Do not give up hope. Tell your Queen that they are to be ready for anything, but do not give in to fear or lack of hope; for it is that which will destroy us.”  The girl smiled timidly, stood, bowed her head to the three of them and left, gracefully moving over the grassy floor of the wooded clearing.

As soon as the elf maid had left their presence, the centaurs relaxed slightly and each spoke more freely.

“Will they come, sister? Will they?” Seanna’s voice quivered.

“I hope so, I truly do…” Oceana looked up towards the sky, past the gold flecked trees, and into the depths of the ever fading blue sky, searching it longingly for some speck of hope. “…before it is too late.”

 

 

 

 

          A tall, human-like creature waved his hand out over a deep, dark pool and erased the images he had just seen. He stood and looked around the black chasm that surrounded him, a look of concern on his aged face.  He nodded to himself, stretched out his arms and a bright light enveloped him, then both he and the light disappeared.

 

 

         

          Keeva slipped out of her little, white cottage with a small worn-down leather backpack in her fair hand. The sun was shining brightly overhead, and, as it had just rained the night before, the air smelled sweet. She took a deep breath and slung the bag over her shoulder.

          Keeva was dressed in a rich, royal blue, spaghetti, straight necked dress that was forming around her slender body and dropped loosely from her hips down to her feet, which were adorned with strappy, brown sandals that laced up around her ankles. Her long, copper red hair fell freely down her back to her waist and framed her small, fair face. Her dark blue eyes shimmered from behind her copper locks. She smiled to herself and began the trek into town. It was days like this that made her happy…days when she didn’t have school and had time to herself.

          Halfway into town she stopped to rest her shoulder and eat some lunch. She set her backpack down on the grass and pulled out a ready-made sandwich. She sighed to herself as the damp grass twinkled in the sunlight. She laid her backpack on its side and sat down very carefully, brushing her dress under her long legs to avoid embarrassing herself.  

          Once comfortable, she opened the sandwich and was about to take a bite when a low, slightly rough cough broke the silence. Keeva jumped slightly and looked up at the man who had tried to gain her attention. His clothes were of a strange make and looked to be worn and dirty. His blue-grey eyes were hidden by his long, grey hair that joined an even longer, more tangled, beard.

          “Can I help you?” Keeva’s voice was slightly brisk as she spoke.  She was rather unnerved and annoyed at him for sneaking up on her so and then simply staring at her.

          “Please,” the man responded, “I have traveled far and am very hungry…might I share a part of your meal?”  His voice was slow and quiet and he never seemed to take his deep eyes off of her dark blue ones.

          Keeva looked startled for a moment at the question. Her eyes grew wide as she looked down at her meager sandwich. She couldn’t believe someone was asking her for something.  ‘I’m the one who should be getting more food…not some old man who probably drank himself silly…’  

          “No.” she said bluntly, her voice cold. “Why should I give you food when I barely have enough for myself?”

          The old man looked taken back by the bluntness of the petit, young woman before him.

          “Please?” He ventured again, hoping for a positive answer. Keeva stared at him, her mouth open. ‘Did he really just ask me again?’ she thought. Her eyes narrowed and she spoke more firmly, standing to her feet as she spoke, trying to make herself look like she was capable of defending herself.

          “I told you ‘No’…now be gone and leave me alone!”  The old man’s jaw clenched as he leaned on his walking stick and began walking away. He paused a little way down the road and spoke in a deeper, harsher tone then the one he had used earlier.

          “Be warned, young Miss. Your actions will have an effect on you and those who you are with.” The old man then turned and stormed off, leaving Keeva pondering what he said alone and glaring after him.  “Rotten, old man…” snarled Keeva to herself before she quickly gobbled up her sandwich and began her long trek once more.

          It was early afternoon before Keeva made it into the small town and began gathering the items from her shopping list. When she had finished gathering them all and placed them in her bag, she decided that she would buy herself a better backpack with the left over money she had. Thoughts plagued her, however, with what she should do instead…such as find the old man, who happened to be watching her, and get him some food. But, Keeva was both selfish and stubborn and wished only to bring herself pleasure.  ‘Of coarse,’ she thought, ‘I do deserve something…nobody cares about me, so I might as well care for myself.’

          The walk home for Keeva was long and tiring, as it grew dark early. She got home fairly late, made herself some dinner and hot chocolate, and then sat down in front of the fire in her shaggy, old chair.  She put her feet up over one of the arms of the chair and sighed deeply, tired from the days work. Moments later, even before the food had touched her lips, she was asleep.

           

 

          Afternoons in London were always a pleasure to Tyón… she found it relaxing to spend her trips there, wandering the back streets and the countryside’s small, delicate shops. It was far from the hustle and bustle of the cities in the United States. This particular afternoon brought Tyón to one of her favorite café’s. The café was very quaint and was positioned in a little corner street. It was outdoors and almost French in style.

The Sun was shining and Tyón sat sipping an Irish Cream, white mocha and reading the newest copy of the Newspaper she could find.  She loved days like this… though she hardly ever was able to enjoy them. Today, however, she had decided to relax and take in the day.

The sun sparkled in Tyón’s golden red hair, which she had pulled up in curls. Little wisps played about her face. She was dressed in fitted dark blue-jeans, a white, sporty styled t-shirt and she wore a green sweatshirt around her waist.

Tyón set the paper down for a moment and crossed her legs. She glanced down at her well-worn tennis-shoes and sighed. 

“I do need to go shoe shopping…”  Her sea-green eyes looked thoughtful for a moment, and then she shook her head and picked the paper back up.  She flipped through the paper until she came to the article she was looking for.

Pictures from the previous night’s game were all over the page and there were several of her.  She read through a few quotes from people and laughed at several of her team-mates and their spunk. One of the pictures caught her eye and she read the story beneath.

 

United States player Landon Chandler, punched Bret Finley, goalie and forward on the Australian soccer team, in the face on Friday night after the World Cup for allegedly dissing the United State’s legendary female player, Tyón DarkTanion. “He had no right,” stated Chandler. “She’s just as good as the rest of us, if not better! The bastered had it coming to him.”  Finley had nothing further to say at this time.

 

“Serves him right…” she said under her breath.

Tyón was lost in her thoughts until she heard a kind voice interrupt them.  

“Excuse me, miss.”

She looked up, slightly surprised by the disruption, and smiled kindly at the man before her. He was dressed well, his grey hair cut neatly. He had grey eyes that seemed to search her face and she looked away quickly, quite un-nerved by the eyes the starred at her so intensely.

“Can I help you?” her voice was strong as she spoke and the older man smiled, seemingly pleased.

“Well, yes, actually…” he responded coolly. “Is that seat taken?” he pointed to the chair directly across from her that shared the same small, round table. 

Tyón mentally cringed. Her first thought was that this man was a fan wanting to ask questions, but, then another thought crossed her mind even more quickly. ‘What if he is a top guy…a scout…someone willing to pay more to have me on their team?’  She smiled politely to him.

“Please, sit down. Now, is there something else I can do for you?” The old man shrugged and picked up the paper, noticing what she had been reading previous to him joining her.

“Are you a fan of soccer?” He asked, looking back up at Tyón, seeming to watch her every move. She looked startled by the question, but figured that it was just a test.

“Yes, I do very much. Do you?” the man shrugged again but Tyón persisted.

“What did you think about the game?”

“It was horrible.” The man stated flatly and Tyón gasped. ‘I must have made a huge mistake!’  She thought wildly. ‘…he’s for the other team!’  

“How can you say such a thing?” she gaped at him and he responded quickly.

“…because, there was no team work. It was all a one man game. Both teams showed no signs of respect or care for the other members of the game…especially Tyón. She ran the game by herself.” His grey eyes bore into Tyón’s green ones and her temper flared.

“How dare you say such things? Tyón was amazing! Don’t you know anything? She won them the game. She IS the reason why they even made it that far!” Her voice quivered with anger as she spoke.

“That may be the case, but, she was also the reason for many hurt feelings and physical injuries.” His voice was beginning to grow harsh as he watched her grow angrier.

“That’s how the game goes.” She growled.

“Perhaps,” he added thoughtfully. “You do not know the game as well as you think.”

Tyón’s temper was at the end of its fuse and she stood up abruptly.

“You know, I don’t have to listen to this. Good day, sir!” she grabbed her coffee and purse and turned to leave as quickly as possible. She paused as she heard the man speak once more.

“Pride comes before the fall…and it will bring others down with you.” Tyón rolled her eyes and stormed out of the café.

A waiter approached the old man, who was watching as Tyón left, and cleared his throat carefully. The old man, who seemed upset, barely noticed, but the waiter continued.

“Excuse me, Sir…you might not know this, but, that was Tyón. She is a regular in here.” The young man was stunned at what he had just witnessed a few minutes earlier. The old, grey-eyed man looked up at him.

“I know.” Then he rose and left; the boy starring after him.

 

Tyón stormed out to her car and got in. “What right does he think he has? What does he know about me…Tyón…absolutely nothing! I’m good, *%$#!*!” she snarled and began driving back to the hotel where she had been staying.

She was halfway there and just crossing over a bridge, when she noticed the old man from earlier about to cross the street. Tyón panicked as he jumped right in front of her. She swerved to the side of the road to miss him and tried to slam on the breaks, but she lost control of her car, spun, and hit the railing of the bridge. Her heart seemed to stop as she went over the edge. She saw the water rushing towards her, and felt her stomach churn…but, just before she hit the river she growled angrily, “I should have hit him!” Then, she knew no more.