Retribution is at Hand: Early Years I
The Enchanted Roads
The sun shone bright outside, as I cast my eyes to the green, rolling hills, lifting my head from the leather-bound tome before me, open on a magical inscription circle, laced with ancient Elven words.
Lifting my hand to my chin, I turned my head out to the window to wander...many matters, many things have faced humanity...yet it always prevailed.
I read much about the Troll kingdom that spanned the northern lands of Lordaeron, and invaded the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas for their presence.
Half-true, I understand their cause...but the Trolls would not hesitate to devour the Kingdom of Arathi, lest it be another part of their vast kingdom.
Answering an early threat, the Arathi -our ancestors- responded to the plea of the Quel'Dori, and rose to the challange.
That day, I know, my father responded to the threat, and obeyed the call to arms.
And returned to my mother less then a year after thousand of skirmishes in the woodland kingdom of Quel'Thalas, before our troops massed, and struck against the head of the serpent.
And trolls will never rise as a kingdom again.
I found that book in my early years, and asked my father about the war.
He smiled, placing his hand on my head, as he said, "That is all true, son. And to prove it, I'll show you something..."
I followed him to his armory, a vast room filled with ancient sets of armor, many weapons, and a locked closet I have noted, but was never curious of.
He touched the stone-made lock with his fingers, and it fell with a clank against the wooden floor.
He pulled the two doors, and inside, was two long, beautiful identical blades.
He pulled them both out, holding one in each hand, and presented them to me.
I held one, but it instantly fell to the floor.
"It's so heavy!" I exclaimed. He laughed, and returned the second into the closet.
"That will be your blade when I die, son."
Suddenly, my heart thumped, before I frowned, saying "Don't say that. Then you will die!"
"You don't believe Thonier, do you?" he said, smiling. "He loves to scare you."
"Humph...so do you," I said, crossing my arms. He shook his head, as he lifted the sword from the ground.
"Um...father?"
He lifted his eyes to me, hand still on the sword's handle.
"Do I have to go to Dalaran?"
He returned the sword into the closet, and said, sitting on one of the chairs in the lighted room, "Your mother thought you have promise, son...and in truth, so do I."
"But I want to become like you," I said, sitting on the ground. Unlike mother, he didn't mind it.
"You like swords...like many of your age," he started, crossing his hands in thought. "But a time will come when we face enemies that will not fall to the sharpest of blades, nor to the gravest of wounds. I want you to excel where I have failed."
I nodded, sighing. Indeed, I loved swords. But not for that reason alone...
Whenever I could, in days I had no duties or responsibilities, I would go to Lordamere Lake, where I would swim to the island in the middle.
I would find delicious solitude there, and sit there for hours.
One day, I crafted a sword from wood, and swung it while I walked, hacking at invisible and made-up enemies. I imagined huge, evil creatures being stopped by my hand and my faithful sword, freeing countless villages and innocent people.
I wanted to be a hero like my father once was.
The next day, I returned to the same place, but found my father there.
He looked at me coldly, and asked me of my presence.
I looked to the ground, and whispered shyly, "I...uh..."
"You came to train...is that right?" He asked, in a lighter tone. I lifted my head, as I heard him continue, "I have seen you come here before, and I saw your blade thrown here."
"I...I was just swinging it around..." I said.
"It's time you get a step above that," he said, throwing me the longsword he intended to give me after he died.
I caught it, and lifted it high, despite its weight.
"First thing...play your strength," he smiled, holding my crafted, wooden sword. "Now...come at me."
I hesitated.
"Do you think you can wound me, son? I've survived four times your years in times you cannot imagine, and in deceptive jungles and before ruthless, magical foes. You have no chance of even touching a hair on my head."
My blood boiled at his taunting, so I charged at him, the sword marking the ground.
When I came closer to him, I stopped, and let the sword fly at him in an arc.
He laughed, jumping backwards, before he brought his wooden sword down on the flat side of my own, driving it to the ground.
I shook, as a shockwave went through the blade on impact, and I dropped the sword.
He didn't drop, but jumped at me. I yelled in horror, and lifted my hand to protect my face.
Time passed, so I opened my eyes, and saw him in front of me, his hand on his face, "Do you think I would kill you?"
"You scared me..." I smiled awkwardly.
"I was trying to see what you would do in a short moment...I expected a little too much...you can barely hold my sword."
My face felt hot, "But I did swipe it at you."
"You did convert your speed to it...that's smart, I'll give you that...but when in close-quarters, you need to have more then a strong blade."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You are too young now..." he said, smiling, as he ruffled my hair. "I'll teach you in a few moons' time." He lifted his eyes to the sky, and so did I. The White Lady was high and bright in the dark, starry sky. He turned to me, and said, taking his sword from the ground, "But don't focus on this, Derrick. Your mother's wish is for you to become a Wizard...and I will not deny her that by strengthening you in the ways of the warrior."
I nodded, before he said seriously, sheathing his sword, "Promise me, that you will not follow this road, and you will use magic as your aid."
My eyes widened, before he frowned.
Helpless, I said, "I...promise."
He then smiled brightly, then said, "You will not regret it..."
I remember that night as I closed the book in front of me.
"I already do, father..." I said, placing my face against the wooden table. I don't know how long I did that, but soon, I fell asleep.
"Derrick?"
"You should not sleep here, son."
I opened my eyes, and turned around, eyes goggly.
It was Archmage Dalar Dawnweaver.
My eyes widened, before I blushed heavily, noticing the line of drool on Circles of Magic IIV.
"I'm so sorry, Archmage," I stuttered suddenly, trying to stand up, but knocking back my chair in the process. It crashed into the chair behind it, which held a stack of tomes raising to the roof, tumbling it back.
I froze, as the tomes crashed into the ground, creating an aweful racket.
"I'm so sorry, Archmage," I repeated, biting my lip, apologizing profously, as I began to lift the books from the ground . I lifted my eyes from the ground, and saw him on his knees, lifting the books...with his hands!
I questioned myself if he didn't want to use his magic for some reason, but that thought fell as he turned his eyes towards me.
"Derrick? What brought you to this section of the library?" He asked calmly.
He was slightly older or equal in age to my father, yet he looked young. A smooth face, with few wrinkles indicating his tenacity against the forces of the arcane. Rapidly graying hair reminded me of my father again, who knew him during the Troll wars.
"I...um, I was studying..."
"This book comes from the second floor," he said calmly, holding up Circles of Magic. I was surprised how fast he got it, but I remembered with slighty sarcasm. Magic. "You brought it here...was it to see Lordamere?"
"Yes, Archmage," I said shyly.
He smiled suddenly, "Appreciation of nature is a fine trait, son...and it is a good replacement for your studies."
"What do you mean?" I said, suddenly horrified. Did I not live up to Dalaran's criteria?
"Like many promising wizards, you are absent minded...better this then lumping around in Kul'Taras, drunk," he said, his brow furrowing slightly.
Eh...he must be referring to his eldest son...
We knew the Dawnweavers well, as my mother was taught by Dalar himself. I grew to know them, and respect them.
I didn't respond, so he said, giving me the book, "If you want to see this tree grow, do not glamor yourself in its fruits, but love the process, and lavish in the time you spend...for those fruits are not yours...nor will they ever be."
Crypic as always...but I learned to understand him, "Who then, will benifit from these fruits?"
"Your people...you benifit from every other step." He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "We find our relish in knowing how we help our allies or vanquish our foes...the soldiers and people relish when we help them, or vanquish our enemies. If you want to know more then you want to be, our road is yours, and your aim is true."
He pulled his hand from my shoulder, and said, drawing himself to full hight, "I will see you soon enough, young one."
And left.
"For an Archmage, you don't really use magic enough..." I said to myself, before tucking the book under my arm, and leaving.
((End))
I chose to take a more early persuit...
I'm thinking of making short stories or chapters, independent of the real Retribution is at Hand, to help refresh the backstory.
The two blades locked away will come back in bigger sight later.
As will Derrick, and Dalar Dawnweaver...his daughter, in fact, will return in another version of Early Years.
Richard, Derrick's father also will return...man.
So will Thonier. XD
Sometimes, I spell Thonier Thonoier, it's something stupid. /smile
I couldn't find a good soundtrack for this...I found...nevermind!
MEH!
Slap blap clap.
I tried to go fax the documents to NEU, but the fax place is shut for Christmas.
"Seperation between Church and State", my ass...
National holidays...yeah, right. Why is it Christmas vacation and not 'National cheap-knock-off-christmas' holiday??.
We should get religious holidays for every right you do. How come I can't skip school/job/work on any other religious holiday? No reason.
I'm pissed...
Oh, well...whatever Americans say, America is a Christian nation...