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Registered: 11/25/04
Posts: 626
Loc: Where The Magic Trees Gro...
Last seen: 12 years, 8 months
Short Story
    #3649596 - 01/19/05 07:21 PM (13 years, 4 months ago)


As Miguel walked out into the sunburned streets he was forced to shield his eyes. The gleam of the white stone was more then blinding to his sensitive northern eyes. Not a green land was this; this was a hard, hot land. Where no cloud could cover the penetrating gleam of the sun. As he walked down the streets and alleyways of the great fortress, he could feel the hot sun beating down on his back.
"How could the soldiers stand this?" asked Miguel. "Standing out here, with my light cloak and pants is unbearable enough, but them in there steel armour I could not even imagine. Like a furnace it must be in there".
He was suddenly hit with a jolt in a strange area of his body; it was a few moments before he realized he missed his own land, the green hills and lush forests seemed friendlier then this ancient city.
"Indeed less like a city and more like a prison this seems, ever with the threat of war this place stands, and none are ever permitted to leave."
For Miguel had been there for quite some time now, and he grew steadily aware a great war was brewing, however whenever he asked someone of this he only got a cryptic reply.
"To the south and to the east a great threat lies, and ever does it approach like a great wave, cold and black and tall".
Indeed Miguel at that thought relished the idea of a great wave coming in, to cool down this place.
"Steam would rise when the water hit the sun drenched walls, I should wonder" he mused in his climb of the steps.
Nearly to the top of the fortress he arrived, and with each step the wind grew quicker, yet the sun, doubtful though it may seem, became hotter.
"If any more of this dreadful heat keeps up I will be nothing more then a burnt chicken roasting upon the white hot coals of the city".
Presently he arrived at the top an stood upon an open space. And from here he could look down, and what e saw never failed to amaze him. From a tall plateau of rock, forged by the eroding of the years or by some other magic, there stood around it a great wall, black did it seem in this light, yet as you went higher and higher up the great flat mount (as it was called) a ramp wound around, like a great spiral road, on one side of which was a great white wall, forged many years ago, and on the other side stood the sheer wall of the plateau, in which was carved many tunnels and caves, where residence was took.
For this was Kamordne, as it was known in the language of the Meinas, the ancient people who had built it, but in the common tongue it was known as the Spiral Mount. A great Fortress built long ago, by the Ancestors of the current Meinas. This was the main city of them. For they were a hardy folk, tall and proud, ever they had lived in the White Dessert. And ever were they with battle with foes unknown.
But Miguel cared little of this at the moment. He wished only to find Teanor, the traveller he had come with. For he had set out with a few, looking for a remedy to a poison that was sweeping across his own land, how he had become entangled in the dealings of men far greater then him he will never know.
?Miguel!? shouted a voice.
He turned to witness Teanor running towards him.
?Quick you fool, into the fortress?, with that he pointed to the great south across the see of sand, and there was a great cloud of dust, and presently he heard many a distant horn blow, below him many ran around, announcing orders, and going to there posts. And Miguel stood there, atop the great plateau, where kings of old and many other great lords have stood, watching what approached now. And from there they had issued great battle plans that time and time again had saved their city. But all Miguel could do now was watch in fear, of the ominous black dust that approached, even though the sand was still white. No great ideas had come to him like the ones that came to Kings of old, he was a simple traveller, not one to meddle in the affairs of kings. But now he found he was no meddler but a great player in the game that would soon begin.
War was coming


We Can't Stop Here, This Is Bat Country

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