Go Back   Chamber of Secrets > The Writing on the Wall > Novella

Indoronel *Dandinigirl13 and accompanied writers from 'It's OK to be Bored!'

Thread Tools
Old April 12th, 2008, 10:44 pm
ginnypotter19  Female.gif ginnypotter19 is offline
Fourth Year
Joined: 5376 days
Location: That little corner of insanity
Age: 28
Posts: 853
Indoronel *Dandinigirl13 and accompanied writers from 'It's OK to be Bored!'


Genre: Adventure/Fantasy/Romance-ish
Title: Indoronel
Summary: This story is form two viewpoints: Prince (Rowan’s, I was thinking) and a young woman (Kara?) Kara is the princess, btw

Beginning: only show this as a brief prologue, it’s meant to be mysterious for the readers!

Once the king was slaughtered in battle, The Demon ordered that every single reminiscent of the monarchy be killed to make him king. In secret, the Queen surrendered her two children, a boy and a girl, to two sorcerers, hoping that they would be taken to the safer lands. The young prince (4 years) was successful, but the baby princess was not. Her bearer was captured, and it was concluded that the princess had died. This was untrue…

Rowan is now a man, and he has been raised around the magic. When he is told that he had a sister and was the heir to the throne, he orders that all the men in his land travel to the empire to search for her. (Aronir) being one of the men.

Middle: The next part of the story begins with a Young woman (yes, Kara) seventeen years later; she is a slave and is under the control of nasty (Gaerus.)
When she is put on the auction, there is a cloaked stranger whom is successful in his bid. Once they are alone, he identifies himself (Aroninr?) and puts her in shackles so that she does not escape. Then, he attempts to return her to the safer lands, Believing that she is the princess. They’re relationship is icy, as Kara hates him from the beginning. Basically, they go through hell and back to get to the Prince. Once they arrive, Kara is told that she is the princess (she is examined by the Master, the oldest and wisest) and Rowan tells her they need to ‘restore what their parents started. ‘ Starting with killing the Demon king.

The Master concludes that a Demon may only die by a person armed with a certain sword, forged in the waters of Aronthia. It was named Indoronel, and the only person to have ever had it, was (Isolath?) The man that carried Kara as a child and was captured.

Ending: (Kara,) Rowan and (Aronir) suspect that (Isolath) is still alive, and travel to the Empire prison where they later, find Isolath. He is weakened by many years of torture, and he dies in Kara’s arms as he gives her the sword. They vow to return to him once peace has been restored. (Aronir) places protective magic onto the body to preserve it.

To cut the long story short (too late!) it ends in the war, Rowan has the sword Indoronel and faces the Demon King, but he is killed (BIG dramatic moment, lots of crying!) Kara picks up her brother’s sword…. and guess what? DEAD DEMON! With the Demon’s death, all of his men are vanquished and are reduced to dust. (This is because they took an oath that can only be broken with the death of the Demon.)
We have a nice, cheesy, happy ending. Kara and Aronir become the king and the queen.

Are we allowed epilogues? : Brief showing of the birth of (Kara’s) first child, (Rowan.) named after his uncle. Edit by thread starter (TS): Yes, but only as your 24th chapter .

Chapters the Challenge Suggests: 24
Words In Each Scene: 500+ only. (If the person writng a section with 700 words that does not mean the next person can do 300 words.)

If you wish to participate, or have any questions, please visit the It's OK to be Bored! thread.

Kara -

Her real name is not Kara, it was the name given to her by a woman whom died shortly after, Kara was taken by the slave traders and put under the control of Gaerus, an evil git, basically.

The name Kara was given by her mother and father was Araliveia. (Ara - live - aya.) Kara decides to keep her adopted name of Kara when she is crowned queen.

She looks similar to her mother, Eronnine.

At the start she is aged 17.

Kara has a temper, especailly when secrets are kept from her. (she gets angry at Aronir quite often)

The master:

He is very, very old, though he does not look it. More like a young man, like Isolath he wears his hair in a plait, though the colour is dark blonde/golden.

The Master has a daughter named Csathie (pronounced... Kuh-say-thee). Who is sixteen years old.

The master is gentle natured, protective and very intelligent. He is also very inquisitive.

He is a sorcerer, one of the most skilled ones in the empire, he is in charge of people who have similar magical qualities.

He can trace family background and relationships if he touches them, almost like mind reading, he can extract memories.

The master occasionally has to steal children whom possess magical quality in the midle of the night, staging it as a dissapearance. This is because magic has to be controlled, and he also has to stop them from becoming freaks and outcasts. Then, he takes all their memories of their families away until they are old enough to learn about what happened.

When he told some of them that he had stolen them from their families, some strayed to the side of the demon king in their anger and fought for him in the massacre.

ISOLATH - Was a childhood friend of Eronnine, Kara's mother (also the previous queen before the war) He fell in love with her when he was fourteen years old, he never told Eronnine and so she married a nobleman's son, who was Kara's father (the king before the war.)

He is a sorcerer, has great magical ability.

Long, Dark hair in a plait.

Ferried Kara during the war, failed and was captured. He dropped the baby princess into the forest, whom was protected under magical bonds, which is why she was assumed 'dead.'

ARONIR - is eight years older than Kara.

Has been a friend of the Prince's since Rowan came to the safer lands aged four, where Aronir has lived all of his life with his father, Sarrionn and two brothers (mirchal and Jonah) all of them have magical qualities.

Aronir is also a sorcerer. Falls in love with the prince's sister.

Appearance - Dark Brown hair, Olive skin. (tanned.) Quite rough-looking. Handsome in his own way.


Appearance - Similar to his father, but I'll let the group of us decide what he looks like. All I can imagine him to be is strong like Akiles, but fell at the last hurdle of war when he is killed by the Demon King.

Rowan was four when he was ferried to the safer lands during the war.

He has a friendship also with Csathie, the daughter of the master.

Is given ownership of the sword Indoronel as the oldest child.


aged 16, strong Sorceress after her father. Appearance -unknown.

Csathie fights in the war at the end beside Kara, Aronir, and Rowan.


Appearance - black hair, grey eyes.

Before her death was a great freind of Isolath, whom loved her.

Married a nobleman's son.

learnt a bit of magic from her childhood friend, she was not a full sorceress.


This is the character you can all have fun with, he is whatever you want him to be, really. All I can say is that he is VERY powerful, persuasive, cold.

He can also assume shapes, especially replicas of other human beings.

His scarlet cloak is woven with blood from his victims.



Please check out my non-Harry Potter story Elmandoroth Chapter Two is finished.

Last edited by ginnypotter19; November 16th, 2010 at 6:07 am.
Reply With Quote
Sponsored Links
Old April 20th, 2008, 2:14 pm
Dandinigirl13  Female.gif Dandinigirl13 is offline
Fourth Year
Joined: 4912 days
Location: England.
Age: 26
Posts: 511
Re: Indoronel *Dandinigirl13 and accompanied writers from 'It's OK to be Bored!'

Hi, Dandini here! OK, first post is a small prologue for y'all! Btw, don't kill me because I have put large spaces between paragraphs, it's so it is easier to read! Enjoy!


When the time came, would you surrender the things that you loved the most?

Death. It seems odd that we can’t escape it, or we can’t feel his icy breath over our shoulders – we have to wait for him to take us away. Many fear him, and others embrace him. Some have no choice.

The demon king.

A cloak wrought with blood,
pilfered from living veins.
Eyes as black as a night,
where no such stars wink.
Alone in his dark domain,
that was Stolen from the dead.
With one blackened soul,
that rots within his breast.


The air was dense with death.

She could smell it in the air, hear it in the wind. Anyone with fairly good vision could spot the vague shadow of a woman standing underneath the forest canopy, her face flickering in and out of sight with the gentle swaying of the trees. Her mind was saturated with voices, mangled shrieks and twisted howls of pain, like the sound of wolves calling to the distant full moon suspended in the night sky.

Death. Fear. Malice. Treachery. Blood.

Tears slipped down her cheeks and dripped onto her chest, which was rising and falling in deep, shallow breaths. She was clad in lilac, her hair flew about her in the wind like a ravens’ beating wing. Dark eyelashes framed a pair of grey eyes, the colour of moors on a misty morning. Anyone could tell she was young.

The wind changed direction, carrying the stale, putrid stench that was from the corpses she knew lay hewn and as still as the statues of her forefathers. Men she had known, loved, cared for. Why are we given life, and built with it…just for it to be taken away?

She listened more carefully: the wind also carried the smudges of sound; hooves thudding against the earth…leave and twigs crumpling beneath immense weight…

What appeared to be a large, black shadow plummeted through the trees like the roar of thunder. The woman cowered and threw her arms up to shield her face - her cry was drowned by the shriek of the great black stallion. It appeared to be a segment of the ink-black sky - amost like it had been cut out from the stars and inflated with life. She backed away; her foot caught the side of a thick root that was protruding from the forest floor like a long, gnarled finger. The young woman tumbled backwards, her skull throbbed beneath her hair. Her vision blurred, for a second she thought she saw death loom over her.


She could hear her heart thundering in her ears as she lay, gasping for breath and crumpled on the ground, horrified. Her fingernails clawed into the mud. She looked less than regal - like a deranged madwoman that ought to be locked in a cage and gawked at by probing children.

“Isolath? Is it you?” Her voice cracked.

“Yes, Eronnine.” Isolath leaped from the saddle, so that his cloak flapped around his ankles. The woman considered him for a moment. He was clad heavily in many cloaks but the several hoods were cast from his pale face; a thick plait of jet black tumbled down the length of his spine. Glittering brooches were pinned onto the midnight blue of his tunic, so that it appeared he wore the very night sky upon his breast.

“ Isolath,” her voice broke again, shattering like a fragment of glass under a man's boot. “ I thank you.”

His lips curved into a smile, a worried, caring smile. Then it was set like stone, “Where are they?”

“Arthlos has taken one.” She whispered, still crying silently. “I wanted you to deal with the other.” She thrust a bundle of grey-blue cloth into the sorcerer’s hands, which were larger than the bundle itself; half of it could fill his palm. Isolath’s black eyes wandered over it, a gaze filled with curiosity, love and – without a doubt – fear.

He swallowed. “You wish for me to take this back to- to my land?”

She nodded, avoiding his gaze. “Yes. That you must do.”

He looked at it again, and held it closer to his chest. Isolath shrugged a hood over his head, so that she could only see the twinkling of his black eyes, “As much as I’ll regret it, I will take it if that’s what you want.” He turned towards the stallion once more and brushed his fingertips against its midnight coat, hesitated… “Won’t – won’t you come with me?” his voice seemed to disappear.

"No!" she barked, “ No, I cannot. I- I know it sounds harsh, but I must leave the future for others to deal with. This is no longer my war…nor is it the time to discuss - the King is dead!” Even her voice shook.

Isolath nodded, eyes downcast, angry. He heaved his body back onto the beast beneath muscular thighs and looked down on her again. Disappointment screamed through his features. He even looked cross at the woman staring back at him, “You would rather die – die! - Than come with an old friend?” he challenged.

“No. But it is what I must do.” She answered stiffly.

“You have a choice!” he urged, “Make it now- while you can! I don’t have much time - ”

“Then GO!” she spat. Anger flashed through her eyes like a comet passing through the clouds, “Go before I change my mind!” she sobbed.

Isolath’s eyes glazed, he blinked and they suddenly came alight with loathing, “Goodbye, Eronnine.”

And he was gone.


Feedback would be great, don't you think guys? So I created a feedback thread>>>
OK....Whose the next poster? Over to you guys at It's OK to be bored!

Until next time,


Fan Fiction If You're Really That Bored

Utopia: Teddy Lupin - 2009+

Thora Jinks - 2008/2010

And if you're feeling it, take a look at my art!

Last edited by Dandinigirl13; April 22nd, 2008 at 6:47 pm.
Reply With Quote
Old April 29th, 2008, 6:31 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
First Year
Joined: 4854 days
Location: Secret land of Daydreams
Age: 30
Posts: 1
Re: Indoronel *Dandinigirl13 and accompanied writers from 'It's OK to be Bored!'

Chapter one:

“Rowan!” A clear voice rang through the forest, “ Rowan, Rowan, Rowan!” The voice sang. The young man named Rowan was lying in the high grass next a river that flowed calmly through the earth. He had been sleeping, but not deeply enough not to be woken by the girl calling his name.

He heard her laughter, like silver bells tinkling among the old trees. His eyes remained closed as he listened to her approaching footsteps through the trees, twigs and dry leaves cracking where she put her feet.

The sound stopped and it was suddenly quiet. He frowned. Before he could open his eyes something landed on top of him.

“Aaah!” He shouted and his eyes flew open, coming face to face with the girl now sitting on top of his chest. Her sky-blue eyes looked into his.

“Boo,” she said, then threw back her head and laughed.

“Csathie!” he exclaimed. “ What are you doing? Get off me.” He pushed his friend off him. She landed next to him in the grass, giggling.

“I,” she said, “ Was looking for you, sleepyhead. Now I’ve found you.” She tickled him in his side, making him jump. “It’s your birthday, silly, you should be celebrating! All you do is sleep in the sun! Sometimes I really do not get you, Rowan.” She jumped up and tried to pull him on his feet as well.

“Come on, Stand up! My Father wishes to speak to you.”

Sighing heavily Rowan closed his eyes. He didn’t want to get up, but if The Master wanted to speak with him, he’d have to.

Slowly he stood up. Csathie was dancing around him, her white dress swirled around her, a wide smile was plastered on her face, like most of the time. When he was on his feet she grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the forest, back to the path that led to her home.

He walked after her as she skipped ahead. She stopped and made a pirouette with her arms above her head. She waited for him and smiled.

“Why, pray tell me, are you moving so slow? How is it that they call you the great warrior if you’re so slow?” She jumped around him. Her blonde curls bounced on her shoulders, light blue ribbons swirled through the air.

“God, Csathie, you are such a child.”

“ I am nearly seventeen, so not really.”

“Well you don’t behave like seventeen, when are you going to grow up?”

“You’re grumpy today, dear Rowan. Yesterday you were skipping and running along with me. Can you suddenly not do that anymore now that you are twenty-one? Suddenly the boy thinks he is a man.” She smiled teasingly and laughed. He couldn’t help but smile at her lively behaviour.

“There, that is much better.” She said as she hopped on top of her toes and kissed his cheek, “happy birthday Rowan Rabbit.”

“Hey! Don’t call me that!”

She laughed at him. “Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit!” She sang. He tried to grab her arm, but she jumped out of his reach and started running away from him. He ran after her, following her giggles down the path.


Laughing and out of breath they reached the edge of the forest. Trying to catch his breath he looked at her. Her sunkissed face wore the never fading smile of the little girl she once was, and her eyes sparkled happily. She pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. Suddenly he wondered when his childhood friend had grown into this beautiful young woman.

“My Father is waiting for you in the library. Go to him, he has been waiting. I will see you at your party.” With that she disappeared into the forest again. For a moment he looked at the spot where she had disappeared among the trees. Then he turned and walked toward the castle that lay on the other side of the green field he was standing in. He wondered what the Master wanted to speak to him about.

Entering the castle, he made his way to the Master’s library with wide strides. He could find his way in the castle blindfolded, for so many years he’d walked through its corridors and secret passageways already. He’d grown up here.

The Master’s library was exactly what a library ought to be like. A thousand shelves filled with dusty old books. If you walked past the wooden bookcases you could almost hear the ancient books whisper the wisdom they held. The Knowledge of generations of sorcerers, philosophers and scientists all brought together here.

Since he had turned twelve, Rowan had been studying here under the supervision of The Master. He had learned so much and yet the books around him still held so many secrets he did not yet know. Many things he would never know and others he could never learn. He didn’t have the magical abilities The Master and Csathie had. He would never be a true sorcerer. He remembered being jealous of Csathie when she started learning to use her magic. He made her so angry she’d given him rabbit ears. Hence the nickname.

Rowan found The Master in the back of the library, sitting behind a desk. He was bending over a large parchment spread out in front of him. When Rowan approached The Master looked up, and made the parchment roll itself up with a simple gesture with his hand in the air. The he rose.

“Rowan,” he spoke, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture, “ I want to congratulate you on your twenty-first birthday.” He smiled warmly. “ I am proud of the man you have become over the years.” His expression became serious. He asked Rowan to sit down and took the place on the other side of the desk again, folding his hands in front of him.

“Do you remember when you asked me about your real family, Rowan?” The Master asked him.

“Yes, Master. You answered that you’d tell me when the time was right for it.”

“I did, and I thank you for your patience. I know it has been hard for you not knowing much about your family. But your waiting has come to an end. The time has come, and, today, I will tell you everything you want to know about your family.”

Rowan felt a wave of excitement rush through his body. He had been waiting for this for so long. Finally, finally he would learn about his family. He had always known he wasn’t born in these lands. He was brought here when he was little, too little to remember the world he came from. When The Master wouldn’t tell him about it, he knew that there was no point in continuing asking. If The Master didn’t want to tell him, he wouldn’t. Secretly he had searched for information in the library with Csathie, but they had found nothing at all. But now he would hear everything. Without noticing he moved to sit on the edge of his seat.

“You are aware of the fact that you came here when you were but four years old?” It was more of a statement than a question, but Rowan nodded anyway. “ Your mother asked me to take you into my castle. To…to keep you safe, because where you came from, things were far from safe.

“I trust you heard about the Great War that broke out in out neighbouring country, Voghunus? And also about the Demon King that rules it? Voghunus is your home country; you were born at the beginning of four long years of war. This ended when the Demon King killed Arognarth, the King that reigned during some short years of your childhood. The Demon King placed himself on the throne of Voghunus. This was the beginning of a dark time for the people of your country. They are exploited and heavily oppressed by his reign, terrorised by those on his side.

“Now, I want you to look at this.” The Master continued after a brief silence. He unrolled the parchment he had been studying when Rowan had walked into the library. Before Rowan’s eye was something that looked a little like a map. The parchment was covered with a network of lines and words were scribbled among the lines. When he looked closer Rowan saw the words were in fact names, and the lines connected them. He was looking at a family tree.

He traced the lines down to the last names. It ended with two, one being Araliveia and the other his own name. Rowan.

He looked at The Master questioningly.

“Yes, it is your name.” He said, smiling gently, “ This is the family tree of the Royal family. The Monarchy of Voghunus. You’re mother, Eronnine, was the only child of a past king, Ecthirador, your grandfather. When he died she and her husband, Arognarth, the son of a nobleman, became the new king and queen. Five years later, the army of the Demon King attacked their Kingdom. Your home.

“Eventually their defences fell in the fourth year of war. Your father was killed. Your mother saw that nothing could save her country, the war was over and they had lost. But as she couldn’t save her country and her people, she did everything she could to save her children, and maybe, by doing so, she thought there would still be hope for her country? Maybe her children could help defeat him? They could take back their right to the throne of Voghunus and restore peace in the fallen kingdom?

“Do you understand what I am telling you, Rowan? You are the son of Eronnine of Voghunus, the last queen. You are the prince. And it is time for you to decide what you are going to do with the country that is rightfully yours.”

Rowan nodded slowly, he could feel the weight of everything The Master had just said pressing down upon his chest. He had not known what to expect The Master to tell him, but it was not this. Nothing he learned over the past years could have prepared him for the task he knew he had, or had been burdened with. He was the prince, and his people were suffering. He suddenly felt guilt surge within him. Within that moment, he decided he would do everything in his power to free them from the darkness of the Demon King. Anything he could.

“Is there anything you would like to ask me?” The Master said.

Rowan thought for a moment, his brain still trying to process all the new information. Then he remembered a detail The Master hadn’t told him about. He looked back at the parchment and reached out towards the name next to his own, brushing his fingers against the dry ink.


“Who – who is this?” he asked, “Who is Araliveia?” He knew the answer before The Master had spoken.

“Araliveia is your sister.”


Ok, that was the first chapter of our story. I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you like it.
I can't wait to see what will happen in the next chapter. Who will be writing it?


^ Remus&Dora, made by the amazing burdge-bug (http://burdge-bug.deviantart.com/)

My Stories
A different kind of Magic
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack (one-shot)

for a good laugh, read my sisters Juliet-series,
Wanted:Romeo being the first part. I'm sure you'll enjoy it
Reply With Quote
Old May 12th, 2008, 5:14 pm
secunda  Female.gif secunda is offline
Second Year
Joined: 5145 days
Location: Berlin
Age: 40
Posts: 134
Re: Indoronel *Dandinigirl13 and accompanied writers from 'It's OK to be Bored!'

Spiced with Paige´s talent here is chapter two:

chapter two

“Where is she? Why is she not here with me?” Rowan himself was surprised by his quivering voice that betrayed so clearly his secret wish to be with his own family. Csathie and Aronir had been his beloved substitute for a family. Still Rowan was different from them.
All those seventeen years he had lived in The Safer Lands he had cherished the hope to meet his parents one day. In his imagination they had to go through all kinds of trouble making it necessary for them to give their only child away. Yes, he had never thought about any siblings. Maybe, he had been used to think a cruel man enslaved them but one day they would break free, glorious victors.
Then they would take him home and show him around as proudly as a mother and father should be of their only child. “Our brave son, Rowan!”

The best however was, that they were not magical, they were like him. They would teach him that bravery and endurance were more precious qualities than the ability to hex someone with rabbit ears. He, Rowan, was brave! He had become the great warrior! He had more sense than Csathie, the retarded, vain, spoiled daughter of The Master and he was more modest than arrogant Aronir! Now matter how he loved them so, and how much he valued their friendship.
Rowan´s anger was spurred on by the memory of all the occasions when Aronir had said: “Sorry, mate, you cannot come with me. This is for sorcerers only.”

Rowan, the Great Warrior – a warrior who had never fought in a real battle! Anyway, of what use was a warrior in The Safer Lands?
Suddenly ´The Great Warrior` sounded to Rowan like a teasing nick name: The little boy, who had to toy with swords and daggers, because he lacked the talent to learn something useful!

Hot, angry tears were streaming down Rowan´s cheeks. He didn’t realize it.
His only chance to feel more normal - and The Master had taken it away with his tale. Rowan hated The Master at that moment. This old coward who spent his life in the library! He was obliged to present Rowan with a living sister at least!

“Rowan”, The Master said calmly, his steady gaze on Rowans contorted face. Rowan bared his teeth and growled like a trapped wolf. Forgotten was his decision to help his people against the Demon King’s tyranny. All that mattered now was this consuming and burning anger that had swollen from the moment The Master had dropped the word ´sister`.

“To learn about your sister seems to shake you more than the death of your parents”, The Master stated while he was walking around his large desk and slowly nearing Rowan. His robes rippled as if they were touched by a soft breeze – a soothing sound.
The Master was still a head taller than Rowan and loomed over him like a patient and wise, old tree. With a jolt of fear Rowan remembered that The Master had no difficulties to anticipate at another person’s thoughts. If he had angered him enough to make The Master hurt him Rowan would have no chance against the powerful sorcerer. Rowan, the Great Warrior, he thought bitterly. What a laugh!
He stared at The Master’s silver ornamented chest. “Where is she?” he whispered. “We could have been raised together!” he sobbed pathetically. Great warrior indeed!
“As a companion for times when my daughter and Aronir had to train their magic?” The Master asked. Rowan nodded. He could not tell from The Master´s voice what he was feeling – disappointment, anger, contempt?

“I don’t know where Araliveia is. Many agree that she was killed when Isolath, her guard, was captured by the Demon King´s forces.” Somehow Rowan had expected that. He felt as lonely as he had never felt before in all those years he had spent in the company of Csathie and Aronir. Why was he missing his family so much when he could not even remember them?

Suddenly all his anger was gone. He just felt tired, empty and weak, so weak that he could not find the strength in himself to stop crying.
The Master´s strong arms squeezed him heartily. Rowan gasped. Never before had The Master ever embraced him like his own child. Rowan could feel The Master´s regular heartbeat against his own ribs and the wild thumping of his heart slowed down. When The Master spoke to him again his lips were close to Rowan´s ear.

“When you remained almost untouched after I told you about your parents´ fate, I feared your emotions would wash you away at the wrong moment, perhaps when you face the Demon King. It is good you are bleeding them away now. You have to heal your wounds before you can successfully battle the Demon King, because he is gifted in exploiting his opponents´ weak spots.” The Master held Rowan at arm’s length and continued in more severe tones. “Before you heard about Araliveia and lost your head, I had the impression you understood why you were trained as a warrior. Be assured that neither Csathie nor Aronir think you are inferior to them!”

Of course not, Rowan thought with shame almost as bad as the grief itself. Csathie is not vain and Aronir is not arrogant. It was only my stupid despair that led me to such assumptions.

“Master, I’m sorry,” he whispered, trailing way like a leaf in the breeze.

“Rowan, do not be sorry.” Said The Master, “I just want you to know two points: One, The Demon King knows not what you look like, and I wish it to be kept that way. Secondly, I hope that you will learn after all these years to call me ‘Father.’”

Before Rowan could reply The Master said: “Go now! Csathie has prepared a feast for you in the banquet room, enjoy your coming into adulthood.” He waved Rowan out with a smile.

Puzzled, Rowan left the almost sacred atmosphere of the library. When he closed the door behind him, he believed to hear the old sorcerer chuckling.
Gloomily, Rowan shuffled along the long and deserted corridor. He was not in the right mood for a party, but he knew if Csathie had organized the celebration for his birthday she would have put all her kind heart into it. He had to go down and put on a false smile.

Rowan reached the dark end of the corridor where no light illuminated the wooden panels on the wall. The thick carpet beneath his feet swallowed the crunch, crunch, crunch of his footsteps.
The corridor ended in a staircase that led down to the ground floor where the banquet room was. Like a rising moon a white-clad figure ascended the stairs. When she was only three steps below Rowan Csathie lifted her face and smiled gently at him. Luckily, in the twilight, Csathie could not see Rowan´s red face.

Csathie had loved him like a brother and appreciated him for who he was, whereas Rowan had always liked her as the girl who was younger and he had to protect. She had been born shortly after he had arrived in The Safer Lands. Rowan remembered her wrinkled baby-face, her ear-splitting bawls, her first steps and her first blue ribbons in her fluffy, blond hair. He was always around her, feeling so much more experienced than her, because he was four years and three months older than Csathie. Yet, she abruptly grew out of his reach when she started her magical education.

She only hexed him once, from then on never again. In fact she never used magic when she was with him. She merely listened to him or teased him like a little girl would do. Often they spent time chasing each other. Rowan had always felt as though he was doing a favour to his little…sister. Understanding rushed over him like a hot wave. Csathie knew about his family, knew it since the time she had given him rabbit ears. So she had decided to stay the little girl for him.

“Csathie”, Rowan croaked. “Do you like your blue ribbons?”

Csathie stared at him then she erupted into a loud and ringing laughter. “Oh, Rowan! What happened to you? And since when do you care what ribbons I wear? I was going to change them for my mother-of-pearl hairpin I received last year from mother when I was initiated into the Junior Council. I’m on my way to my room now. You better go down to the banquet room. They are all waiting for you there; even mother has come out of the woods to celebrate your birthday. I’ll see you soon.”

Csathie jumped along the corridor until she had reached the door that led to her quarters. Rowan felt even more depressed. He had indeed forgotten that Csathie was a Council member. Council meetings took place at the same time then his fighting lessons. So Cathie’s duties had never been of any concern to him.
Rowan stepped down the stairs with great reluctance to reach his own birthday party. Aronir would be there, the Aronir whom he had always admired. Yet he had thought so ill of him today. How should he look into his friend’s eyes tonight?

I’m not a worthy prince, Rowan thought. ´A prince should be noble and just, not jealous and unfair like me. Being the head of a whole country is too great a responsibility for me, not to mention fighting The Demon king. I am a sore match for someone so powerful.

Finally, he stood in front of the door behind which everybody expected him to be cheerful. He opened the door a tad, breathed in deeply and pushed it open. Immediately he was greeted with enthusiastic applause. Rowan could hear Aronir whistling. His good-looking friend with his olive skin stood beside his father and his two brothers. Behind her sons, Aronir´s mother smiled at Rowan, her thick, short white hair as untidy as always. Olisaya was ten years older than her husband, but Sarrion loved her like the sun loved the clear sky. All of The Master´s students were assembled, too, aged from ten to twenty. Rowan had always been on good terms with all of them so he managed a smile for them.
The last person in the row, almost hidden in the shadows, was Eletheryn, Csathie´s mysterious mother, who spent most of her time in the murky woods since her daughter was old enough to care for herself. Nobody could tell what she was doing there. Eletheryn´s hair had the colour of a tree trunk.

She was not clapping and she was not smiling. She was just fixing her green forest-eyes on Rowan unblinkingly. Those made Rowan feel even more uncomfortable.

“Where is Csathie?” Aronir shouted. “We cannot sing until she is here.”
Breathless Csathie stormed into the room. She was carrying a big parcel under her arms. Lightly she danced into the place beside her mother. Rowan´s mouth became watery, his heart leapt. Csathie had pinned her hair in a knot with two shiny hairpins. Strands of her golden hair were playfully curling behind her ears and fell down to her shoulders. She looked so beautiful, so beautiful, and so beautiful… The blood was throbbing in Rowan´s groins. Rowan grimaced – this wasn’t right! She – she was like a sister to him. Never, ever in his life had the thought about Csathie like – like that!
Aronir raised his arms, snapped his fingers and counted to three. They all began to sing: “This is a very happy day, because he becomes a man today, our dear boy Rowan, Rowan, Rowan!”

Suddenly everybody was holding a parcel in their hands and was storming towards Rowan to deliver their presents and hug him. When Csathie embraced him and placed a kiss on his cheek his gloom was driven away at last. A more private part of his body made an unintended movement which caused Csathie to say: “I love you, too, Rowan”, with astonishing earnest.

“My little, mature Csathie”, Rowan whispered hoarsely. Aronir, who was dragging Rowan to the buffet, interrupted their intimate moment.

“Eat, mate!” he demanded. “Eat and drink as much as you can. All this wine and beer is yours tonight. Yet I hope you’ll leave enough for the rest of us.” Csathie followed them after she had lifted up the parcel Rowan had put on the floor before they had embraced.

“You should open this first!” she told him.
Rowan tore at the silver and blue silk ribbons and suddenly the parcel exploded with a loud BANG Glittering dust and pink and purple stars were swirling through the air in a dense cloud. Gracefully, the glitter sank down and vanished shortly before it would touch the floor. When the last star had gone, there stood before Rowan the biggest cake he had ever seen. Twenty-one deep blue candles with magenta flames were stuck into it forming the shape of a heart. In the centre a delicate sword made of hardened sugar penetrated the chocolate cover. The layer beneath consisted of red berries and their juice dyed the blade of the sword like blood. From the sword’s knob a banner was flapping. Written on it in silver ink were the words: My heart is bleeding for you, Rowan! – Csathie
Rowan looked at Csathie. She was blinking nervously. She swallowed a few times and cleared her throat. She bent over the cake with the burning candles, the flames illuminating her face from below, and asked quietly:

“Rowan, marry me?”

Rowan closed his eyes. He thought about the life he had to lead from now on, a life consisting only of battle after battle, of running and hiding, of wounds and death. As dearly as he wanted to marry Csathie he also wanted to offer her a life more comfortable than this. He shook his head.
Csathie put his face in her hands and said urgently: “Rowan, I know everything about you. My father told me after I hexed you. So believe me, I’m aware with what kind of man I’m engaging myself to. That means I know about your duty. I thought about it carefully. The Demon King is capable of strong magic. You might need a powerful sorceress like me at your side. Say yes, Rowan, please say yes!”

Rowan heard the desire in her voice. Why had he missed until today that she loved him so deeply? He had only ever perceived a sister in her - but he had mistaken it for something else.

Rowan bent close to her, his lips rubbed against her ears as he whispered:” Yes.”

“Hey, look at those two bloody turtledoves!” Aronir laughed.

Csathie grabbed Rowan´s hand and raised it into the air.

“Rowan and I are engaged!” she announced. The next moment Rowan saw a dark golden ring materialise on his left ring finger. Then they kissed a long and wet kiss as though they wanted to chew each others´ tongues. Around them flooded the laughter and the singing of their friends.

A cool touch on his upper arm made Rowan turn around. Eletheryn nodded to him. “My dear son”, she said and left again to fetch herself some food.
Rowan caught a glimpse of Aronir, who was shaking his head but was grinning from ear to ear at the same time. His eyes ( a bright, tropical blue that were flecked with green,) were the windows to his own happiness.

Arm in arm, Rowan and Csathie strolled to their friend.

“Who had ever believed that sweet, innocent, little Csathie would force brave Rowan to get engaged with her? Besides, dear Rowan, I should be angry with you. You left my present unopened on a pile with all the other junk.” He spluttered.

“Aronir, you are so arrogant!” Csathie exclaimed.

“No, Csathie, he is right.” Rowan contradicted her. “He is my best friend, so I should open his present before everybody else’s – except yours, of course.” He fetched Aronir´s yellow parcel. He had two families now, a dead one and a living one. The living one included Csathie and her parents as well as Aronir, his dead one his own parents and his -

Many agree that she got killed when Isolath her guard was captured by the Demon King´s forces.

Many agree… sounded like nobody knows for sure. Could it be that Araliveia was still alive? Imprisoned by the Demon King, maybe? Why should he keep her alive though? The Master had not told him his own views on that matter. Rowan decided to ask him. Perhaps Csathie´s father would join the feast later in the evening.

Suddenly somebody held the tablet with glasses of reddish brown chestnut wine under his nose.

“Drink my son! Maybe this is the last chance for a proper drunkenness. I have heard my wish has already been fulfilled. You will call me father from now on.” The Master smiled down on him with the same smile Rowan so often had seen on Csathie´s face. Rowan frowned, looked from The Master to the innocently blinking Csathie and back again to The Master. He could not help but to laugh about this little conspiracy. With Aronir´s parcel in one hand he hugged his future father-in-law.

“Csathie, what do you think? Will he open it today or at his next birthday?” Rowan heard Aronir growling.

Rowan helped himself to a glass of wine. “Mast - father, Araliveia - ”

“ - You should open Aronir´s parcel!” The Master interrupted him.

Impatiently, Rowan cut open the parcel with his knife. Inside lay a figure not taller than Rowan´s hand from wrist to the tip of his middle finger. It was the sculpture of a baby carved in stone. The baby had black, wavy hair. Its lips were slightly parted and when Rowan reached inside the box to take it out, he could feel warm air streaming against his palm. “It’s breathing!” he shouted in surprise, almost dropping it.

“Aronir, would you please explain to your friend what he is holding in his hands?” The Master asked.

Aronir nodded briskly. “On the baby’s head are strands of hair from your sister’s head. They were found around the area where Isolath was caught and returned to the Safer Lands. The Master asked me to keep them instead of him in case the Demon King should attempt to invade The Safer Lands. The Master told me it was not clear Araliveia was dead. When I was old enough I began to create a means that could tell me whether the owner of this hair is alive or dead. This baby is the result of my long study and work. As long as the baby is breathing it means your sister is alive.”

In the background Olisaya and Sarrion were singing a low, melancholy love song. Aronir´s brothers accompanied them on their drums and Eletheryn played a weird instrument that produced sounds like desperate, heartbreaking screams. Some of the students joined the singing, their voices dark with ale.

Rowan clenched his fists and looked down at the infant, and across her strands of dark hair. “I will find her, no matter what obstacles I will face. Master, I want every readied man and soldier in your command to leave for the empire at dawn. I will find her.”

He had no idea where the authority wreathing his voice had come from, but it was a start

Reply With Quote
Old May 27th, 2008, 3:20 am
themagickeeper  Female.gif themagickeeper is offline
Third Year
Joined: 4999 days
Location: In between here and there...
Age: 31
Posts: 316
Re: Indoronel *Dandinigirl13 and accompanied writers from 'It's OK to be Bored!'

It smelt like salt. It sounded like water – water crashing over water. She couldn’t see it, but she could smell it, taste it in the air.

It came from the small cracks in between the stone walls. Too small to see through, but large enough to let the sea air seep through.

Kara kneeled back down on the stone cold ground, next to the sleeping boy. He gave an involuntary shudder and rolled over.
Kara covered him with the only blanket they had been given by Gaerus. It was too thin to produce any real warmth, but at least it was something.

Kara sighed, pulling her knees closer to her small frame, letting her long black hair fall around her face. It was smeared with dirt from working outside too hard. She hadn’t bathed in…a long time.

Loud shouts came from outside the door. The candlelight flickered underneath the doorway, illuminating footsteps as they passed, the shouts turning to laughter. Something fell on the ground nearby with a loud bang.

Kara watched in disgust as liquid started to creep into the room – it must have been a jug of wine that had fallen. She watched the red liquid with distaste.

A small cry came from the boy.


“I’m here Boyd – it’s alright,” the girl soothed. She stretched out on the floor next to him, holding the boy close to her chest.

“I’m so cold.” Kara pulled him closer; trying to shift whatever warmth she had to the small boy.

She felt the anger build up inside her. Boyd shouldn’t be living like this. He was only seven. He had his whole life ahead of him, yet here he was, about to be sold to…Kara didn’t want to think who.

“Would you like a nice, hot bath to cheer you up?” Kara asked him. She could feel him nodding. A smile crept on her face as she started their nightly ritual.

“A large tin tub filled to the brim with steaming hot water and…scented rose petals. Like the royal family had. You could lay in the water until it went cold and your fingers all wrinkly.”

She tickled his nose and Boyd giggled softly.

“You would wear a silk robe afterwards, and sleep in a bed so big you would be lost in it, for it would be layered with fur blankets to keep you nice and warm. There would be an enchanted fire, so that you would never go cold and the thick fur blankets would make you so warm that you immediately fall asleep…”


“Get up, filth!”

Kara’s arm was dead. Sitting up, she shook it, trying to get the feeling back. By her side Boyd was stirring wearily.

“Get up you lazy…” Kara saw Gaerus’ hand come down near Boyd.

“Don’t you dare!” she yelled, pushing herself up and in front of Boyd. She felt the little boy whimper underneath her.

The hand came down on her face.

“You dare get in my way?” Gaerus thundered. He looked the young girl up and down. Her black hair was knotted with dirt, the result of not having a proper wash in a long time. Not that Gaerus cared. Water was money, and money was time. He did not have time to waste on a slave girl, especially this one, with her strange grey eyes.

The old woman who had sold her to Gaerus had called her Kara, but slaves owned by Gaerus had no need for their names.

Her cheek was stained red, welting from his handprint. She held it gently, her other arm stretched back protecting the useless boy.

Her right eye was still black and blue from the previous day. Her grey eyes were narrowed fiercely and she stood up.

“How dare you try and hurt a boy? Can’t you see that the work you already make him do is killing him?” Kara yelled to the man standing in front of her with a courage that was slowly slipping away.

From the corner of her eye, she saw some of the kitchen slaves, stopping their work to watch with wide eyes as she talked back to their master.

“Maybe his new master will be kinder,” Gaerus snorted. “Now get up!”

Kara’s heart leapt. Of course! Today was market day. Gaerus would sell Boyd on the slave market, for another, healthier and fit slave.

“I doubt that there would be anyone who would be able to match the kindness and generosity you have shown us, Gaerus.” Her tone was sarcastic, and the giant in front of her did not like it.

“Would you like another bruise to match the one on your right eye?” Gaerus snarled, pointing a dirty forefinger at her face. “Because that’s the way you both are headed that way if you don’t get up and get out of this room!”

His voice boomed throughout the whole house. The girl didn’t question his motives. Gaerus was big and brutish – not a man to be messed with. There were limits as to how far she could push it. If only this girl had learnt that from the beginning, her pretty face wouldn’t have been bruised so much.

She helped the boy stand up, leaving the blanket around his trembling form.

“He won’t be needing that,” Gaerus snarled, ripping it off him.

Kara watched as Gaerus marched out of the room, not bothering to stop and wait for her and Boyd. Gaerus strolled away, not caring to slow down his fast pace for the girl. She walked as quickly as she could behind him, thin legs carrying her weight.

They left the house, the other slaves still holding their breaths.

“Let’s see how much I’ll be able to get for your worthless hide,” he growled, shoving her into a cart along with the other slaves he was taking to the auction.

“You’re selling me as well?” Kara’s heart leapt for joy. She felt like doing cartwheels right here on the muddy ground.

Instead she picked up Boyd, making sure he was comfy on the wooden cart floor.

Gaerus didn’t answer her question, “ From now on you will speak when spoken to. I hope to get a good price for you, so behave yourself.”


The market place was busy today, Kara noted. More people had turned out especially for the auction. The wealthy citizens of Zorne were seated on one side of the auction space, so not to mingle with the lower classes.

Those who were too lazy to attend the auctions sent their head slaves to do their bidding for them. Stalls of all types had sprung up in every available space, making the cart hard to navigate in the throng of people.

Kara heard Gaerus curse from where he sat with the horse’s reins. She was just in time to cover the little boy’s ears. Young children didn’t need to be exposed to such vulgarity.

“What will happen to us, Kara?” Boyd asked her.

“We’re going to new homes, where they’ll look after us. But only if we do what we’re told,” she informed him, pinching his cheek.

“Will you go to a new home with me?” Boyd asked her. Kara sighed.


They had stopped, and Gaerus was unlocking the cart door. “Get out!” he growled. Kara, closest to the door, scrambled out, and then helped Boyd and the others who couldn’t manage on their own out.

They stood close to each other, their shackles linking them. Gaerus was talking to a skinny old man. He put a coin in his palm, and then turned back to his slave.

“Get a move on!” They all moved forward at once. They were pushed on to a wooden stage – the first slaves of the auction.

Kara stumbled up the stairs last, her eyes downcast.

“You,” Kara heard in her ear. Her back stiffened. “Any funny business and I’ll make sure you go to someone who makes sure you’ll never look pretty again, you understand?” Kara nodded. There was no point in arguing – not now. She was too close to never having to see Gaerus’ ugly, fat face again.

She was dragged onto the stage by the other slaves, their shackles still binding. The old man Gaerus had spoken to before hobbled onto the stage, and a hush came over the crowd. Kara didn’t bother listening to him – she had been to that many auctions since being Gaerus’ slave she knew what he was about to say.

The citizens of Corus were well informed of the antics of Gaerus’ troublesome girl slave, and Kara had suffered for it when nobody bought her at auction time. That was why Gaerus had travelled all the way to Zorne.

Kara used to the time to look around her. Zorne was an hour away from Corus, but Gaerus never had need before to come here. Zorne was a beautiful city, one of the few cities that had not been destroyed by the Demon King. Every building winked in the evening sun, wrought with white marble.

There was that overpowering smell of sea salt in the air, and gulls flew all around, scavenging for any food scrap. Kara looked into the crowd. More people were squeezed into the market for the trading day.

She watched as the nobles sat down, the ladies in their beautiful gowns. There were so many different colours – blue, red, green, purple. Kara looked down at her own rag for a dress. It used to be a colour – she couldn’t remember which. Now it was grey and tatty, covered in dirt.

A colour of black in the sea of bright colours caught her attention. It was a person – a man? He was wearing a black cloak, so thick and heavy that you could not see the face underneath it.

Kara felt uneasy. A black cloak could only mean one thing – followers of the Demon King were in Zorne. The shadow on a bright day.

She looked back to the crowd, trying to find the cloaked person. But she had lost him in the throng of people.

“Girl!” Kara’s head swivelled round in the direction of Gaerus’ voice.

It was her turn. She took a step forward. “No, no. I’ve sold you already.” Gaerus laughed, jingling a small bag at his hip.

“A lot of money they paid for you as well. More than I expected. Seems like you have some worth after all.”

He unlocked her chains, and then dragged her by the arm down the steps.

“Here is your new master.”

Reply With Quote
Go Back  Chamber of Secrets > The Writing on the Wall > Novella


Currently Active Users Viewing This Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests)
Thread Tools

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off

All times are GMT +1. The time now is 7:07 pm.

Powered by: vBulletin, Copyright ©2000 - 2021, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.
Original content is Copyright © MMII - MMVIII, CoSForums.com. All Rights Reserved.
Other content (posts, images, etc) is Copyright © its respective owners.