Alec Troven (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
element_wizard) wrote2006-09-30 01:51 am
element_wizard) wrote2006-09-30 01:51 am
Call of the Champion, chapter one
One thousand years later.
Give or take.
The storm was about to break, Raven decided, staring out the window of the small nearly tumbled down cottage. The sky outside was covered with rain heavy clouds, threatening to break for most of the day. Now, however, it was that eerie stillness before the storm; right before the first lightening strike and roll of thunder. He could feel the tension in the air, humming almost audibly to his element sense. He turned away from the window and glanced at the clock ticking slowly over the mantelpiece. Several hours till the day of Spring Solstice.
A low moan from the darken room beyond caused him to clench his hand in worry. She was too early. Weeks too early. Raven glanced back outside, searching for something in the darkness of the woods. Lightening flashed, bathing the woods in a white light for a split second and leaving the after images impressed on his closed eyes as it started to rain. Sighing he pushed away from the window as the thunder boomed, shaking the cottage, he never see anyone out there now.
Trying not to look towards the darken room, Raven started to pick up the bowls from dinner. They clanked together dully, seeming loud in the quiet room. He stacked the three bowls and then sat down on the bench, staring at the window.
What was taking him so long? He wondered, tapping his fingers on the rough table. He turned to look behind him at another moan; this time it was more distinct, his name, called pleadingly.
Raven got up and entered the dark room, pausing at the entrance to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He went to the bed where his wife, Sela, lay, sitting on the edge near her head.
“I’m here,” he said softly, stroking back her dark hair. Her hand sought his and squeezed.
“It hurts…”
“I sent for him. He said he was coming as fast as he could.”
“It hurts… gods…” and her voice grew into a moan as another contraction hit.
Raven leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, “He’s coming. Please… try to hold on.”
“Hurts!” she said in reply, her voice raspy.
“I’m sorry…I don’t know what to do,” he said, holding her to him.
Pounding at the door broke him from his embrace. He left the bed at a run to open the door. Standing in the rain, covered in a soaked cloak was an old witch named Kratz. He gave Raven a wry smile as he stepped inside, pushing the hood out off his head to reveal long white hair that flowed past his shoulders and bright blue eyes that seemed far to young for his age. “How is she?” he asked in a mild voice as Raven took his cloak.
“She’s in pain.”
“Of course she is,” Kratz snapped. He glanced around the room, noting the crib by the fireplace, nodding in approval at this. “Wait out here, I will need warm water and clean cloths.”
“Like last time?”
“Yes, like last time, be quick about it,” he said before vanishing into the darken room.
The cloak was tossed onto the rocking chair in the corner by the fire as Raven dragged up an iron kettle. The pump was outside, of course. He hefted the kettle and dashed outside to the pump.
Wind whipped around him, trying to tug at the kettle, but it was too heavy. The pump was around the corner of the house near the old well. He was rather glad that he installed the pump, because he didn’t feel like fighting with the worn pulley and rope from the well. The pump creaked a few times before water began to flow from its spout. Five pumps filled the kettle and then it was back into the house.
He set the kettle on the table, casting a heating spell on it to warm the water as he looked for the clean rags. He knew where they were, but for some reason, their location escaped him at the moment. Raven checked the cupboards and the linen basket, trying not to listen to his wife’s moans and cries. They were very distracting. He kept on glancing to the room when ever he heard her cry out.
Resolutely he searched the main room of the cottage before turning up the clean rags in the linen basket he had searched in the beginning. By this time the kettle was warm. He took the rags and the kettle into the room which was no longer dark.
Kratz had lit the lamp giving the room a soft dull glow. He looked up as Raven walked in and gestured with his head to a spot near him. Raven put them down and then retreated from the room, his eyes not leaving Sela’s face until he was out.
Time passed slowly in the outer room. Raven made to clean it several times, but each time he stopped and started to restlessly pace in front of the fireplace. After three tries he ascended the ladder to the loft.
Up in a trundle bed, Raven’s older child, Greywolf, slept. He crept towards him and sat down next to him. The boy was almost completely covered except for a shock of golden hair. Same hair that his father had. They had the same gray eyes as well. Raven watched the boy sleep soundly, resisting the urge to stroke his hair, least he wake him.
“Brother or a sister you’ll have in the morning little Wolf,” he said softly. The boy, sound asleep, said nothing in response to this. Raven leaned up against the sloping wall of the loft and tapped his fingers against his knees, waiting for something, anything to happen.
Eventually, some time later, a baby’s wails broke the silence. Raven broke out of his doze and scrambled up, nearly jumping out of the loft in an effort to get down sooner. He slid down the ladder and rushed to the other room, just as Kratz was coming out holding a bundle in his arms.
“Well?” Raven asked breathlessly.
“A girl,” Kratz said with a smile. He handed the baby to her father. Raven took her gently and held her against his chest.
“Hello there,” he said. The baby blinked up at him with dark brown eyes and then yawned. He smiled broadly. “She’s beautiful.”
A moan from Sela broke his concentration. Kratz cursed softly and dashed back into the room. Raven watched him leave, confused and worried. He retreated to the fireplace and the crib. He held his daughter, glancing at the clock. Midnight.
“Almost made the Spring’s Child. If you had waited a few more minutes,” he said. He got another blurry blink and yawn in response to that. “Well, I suppose you don’t need the responsibility of that.” Reluctantly he set her down in the crib, tracing a finger across her face. She yawned again before closing her eyes and falling asleep. Raven went and picked up the rocking chair, settling it next to the crib. He had just sat down, stretching his leg out when another cry filled the house in time with a crash of thunder.
Startled Raven pushed himself out of the chair and approached the other room cautiously. A minute passed and then Kratz came out with another bundle.
“Twins,” he said with a shrug and smile. “Boy this one. What time is it?”
Raven looked at the clock, “Five passed Midnight,” he said and then blinked, “Is that early enough?”
“Zendric was born half hour passed Midnight. It’s more than early enough. I don’t think anyone else will be able to pass that for many years to come.”
“And here I was just saying that his sister was born too early.” He glanced passed the old witch. “How is she?”
“She’s asleep. She’ll be fine with some rest.” Kratz handed him the second child. “I’ll look in on her later.”
Momentarily distracted by the babe in his arms, this one with a scruff of blonde hair, Raven looked up and blinked at Kratz, “Of course. I’ll go and get you a pallet to sleep on.”
“That would be most welcomed,” he said before disappearing into the other room. Raven blinked at where the witch had been and then walked back to the crib. This one seemed a little smaller than his sister, but he blinked up at Raven with gray eyes, much like his sister had.
“It looks like you’re a very special little boy. If completely unexpected. The priests will be wanting to see you soon. And there will be a grand ceremony where you’ll be shown to the whole city or a good part of it.” He said and brushed the boy’s head lightly with his hand.
His hand encountered something odd though, and Raven pushed the blanket away from the baby’s head.
The ears were floppy.
Frowning, he pushed one of them straight.
It came to a point.
Now Raven knew that there was fey blood in his family, but he never expected to see any evidence of it. It was too far removed from the family now. Yet there it was, in its floppy, pointed ear-ness.
“Huh,” was the only thing he could think of to say to that. “Special indeed.” Shaking his head he placed the boy next to his sister and covered them both up with a blanket.
Raven stroke the fire with a gesture before finding the pallet for Kratz to sleep on. He set it on the floor, beating it with his hand, sending up a cloud of dust. He coughed, breathing in the dust and shook his head. Blankets were found after that.
Kratz came out of the room just as he was settling into the rocking chair.
“You’ll get a crick in your neck if you fall asleep there.”
“It’s more comfortable than the floor,” Raven said, putting his feet up on the bench.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said as he lay down on the pallet.
“Good night Kratz.”
“Good night.”
Give or take.
The storm was about to break, Raven decided, staring out the window of the small nearly tumbled down cottage. The sky outside was covered with rain heavy clouds, threatening to break for most of the day. Now, however, it was that eerie stillness before the storm; right before the first lightening strike and roll of thunder. He could feel the tension in the air, humming almost audibly to his element sense. He turned away from the window and glanced at the clock ticking slowly over the mantelpiece. Several hours till the day of Spring Solstice.
A low moan from the darken room beyond caused him to clench his hand in worry. She was too early. Weeks too early. Raven glanced back outside, searching for something in the darkness of the woods. Lightening flashed, bathing the woods in a white light for a split second and leaving the after images impressed on his closed eyes as it started to rain. Sighing he pushed away from the window as the thunder boomed, shaking the cottage, he never see anyone out there now.
Trying not to look towards the darken room, Raven started to pick up the bowls from dinner. They clanked together dully, seeming loud in the quiet room. He stacked the three bowls and then sat down on the bench, staring at the window.
What was taking him so long? He wondered, tapping his fingers on the rough table. He turned to look behind him at another moan; this time it was more distinct, his name, called pleadingly.
Raven got up and entered the dark room, pausing at the entrance to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He went to the bed where his wife, Sela, lay, sitting on the edge near her head.
“I’m here,” he said softly, stroking back her dark hair. Her hand sought his and squeezed.
“It hurts…”
“I sent for him. He said he was coming as fast as he could.”
“It hurts… gods…” and her voice grew into a moan as another contraction hit.
Raven leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, “He’s coming. Please… try to hold on.”
“Hurts!” she said in reply, her voice raspy.
“I’m sorry…I don’t know what to do,” he said, holding her to him.
Pounding at the door broke him from his embrace. He left the bed at a run to open the door. Standing in the rain, covered in a soaked cloak was an old witch named Kratz. He gave Raven a wry smile as he stepped inside, pushing the hood out off his head to reveal long white hair that flowed past his shoulders and bright blue eyes that seemed far to young for his age. “How is she?” he asked in a mild voice as Raven took his cloak.
“She’s in pain.”
“Of course she is,” Kratz snapped. He glanced around the room, noting the crib by the fireplace, nodding in approval at this. “Wait out here, I will need warm water and clean cloths.”
“Like last time?”
“Yes, like last time, be quick about it,” he said before vanishing into the darken room.
The cloak was tossed onto the rocking chair in the corner by the fire as Raven dragged up an iron kettle. The pump was outside, of course. He hefted the kettle and dashed outside to the pump.
Wind whipped around him, trying to tug at the kettle, but it was too heavy. The pump was around the corner of the house near the old well. He was rather glad that he installed the pump, because he didn’t feel like fighting with the worn pulley and rope from the well. The pump creaked a few times before water began to flow from its spout. Five pumps filled the kettle and then it was back into the house.
He set the kettle on the table, casting a heating spell on it to warm the water as he looked for the clean rags. He knew where they were, but for some reason, their location escaped him at the moment. Raven checked the cupboards and the linen basket, trying not to listen to his wife’s moans and cries. They were very distracting. He kept on glancing to the room when ever he heard her cry out.
Resolutely he searched the main room of the cottage before turning up the clean rags in the linen basket he had searched in the beginning. By this time the kettle was warm. He took the rags and the kettle into the room which was no longer dark.
Kratz had lit the lamp giving the room a soft dull glow. He looked up as Raven walked in and gestured with his head to a spot near him. Raven put them down and then retreated from the room, his eyes not leaving Sela’s face until he was out.
Time passed slowly in the outer room. Raven made to clean it several times, but each time he stopped and started to restlessly pace in front of the fireplace. After three tries he ascended the ladder to the loft.
Up in a trundle bed, Raven’s older child, Greywolf, slept. He crept towards him and sat down next to him. The boy was almost completely covered except for a shock of golden hair. Same hair that his father had. They had the same gray eyes as well. Raven watched the boy sleep soundly, resisting the urge to stroke his hair, least he wake him.
“Brother or a sister you’ll have in the morning little Wolf,” he said softly. The boy, sound asleep, said nothing in response to this. Raven leaned up against the sloping wall of the loft and tapped his fingers against his knees, waiting for something, anything to happen.
Eventually, some time later, a baby’s wails broke the silence. Raven broke out of his doze and scrambled up, nearly jumping out of the loft in an effort to get down sooner. He slid down the ladder and rushed to the other room, just as Kratz was coming out holding a bundle in his arms.
“Well?” Raven asked breathlessly.
“A girl,” Kratz said with a smile. He handed the baby to her father. Raven took her gently and held her against his chest.
“Hello there,” he said. The baby blinked up at him with dark brown eyes and then yawned. He smiled broadly. “She’s beautiful.”
A moan from Sela broke his concentration. Kratz cursed softly and dashed back into the room. Raven watched him leave, confused and worried. He retreated to the fireplace and the crib. He held his daughter, glancing at the clock. Midnight.
“Almost made the Spring’s Child. If you had waited a few more minutes,” he said. He got another blurry blink and yawn in response to that. “Well, I suppose you don’t need the responsibility of that.” Reluctantly he set her down in the crib, tracing a finger across her face. She yawned again before closing her eyes and falling asleep. Raven went and picked up the rocking chair, settling it next to the crib. He had just sat down, stretching his leg out when another cry filled the house in time with a crash of thunder.
Startled Raven pushed himself out of the chair and approached the other room cautiously. A minute passed and then Kratz came out with another bundle.
“Twins,” he said with a shrug and smile. “Boy this one. What time is it?”
Raven looked at the clock, “Five passed Midnight,” he said and then blinked, “Is that early enough?”
“Zendric was born half hour passed Midnight. It’s more than early enough. I don’t think anyone else will be able to pass that for many years to come.”
“And here I was just saying that his sister was born too early.” He glanced passed the old witch. “How is she?”
“She’s asleep. She’ll be fine with some rest.” Kratz handed him the second child. “I’ll look in on her later.”
Momentarily distracted by the babe in his arms, this one with a scruff of blonde hair, Raven looked up and blinked at Kratz, “Of course. I’ll go and get you a pallet to sleep on.”
“That would be most welcomed,” he said before disappearing into the other room. Raven blinked at where the witch had been and then walked back to the crib. This one seemed a little smaller than his sister, but he blinked up at Raven with gray eyes, much like his sister had.
“It looks like you’re a very special little boy. If completely unexpected. The priests will be wanting to see you soon. And there will be a grand ceremony where you’ll be shown to the whole city or a good part of it.” He said and brushed the boy’s head lightly with his hand.
His hand encountered something odd though, and Raven pushed the blanket away from the baby’s head.
The ears were floppy.
Frowning, he pushed one of them straight.
It came to a point.
Now Raven knew that there was fey blood in his family, but he never expected to see any evidence of it. It was too far removed from the family now. Yet there it was, in its floppy, pointed ear-ness.
“Huh,” was the only thing he could think of to say to that. “Special indeed.” Shaking his head he placed the boy next to his sister and covered them both up with a blanket.
Raven stroke the fire with a gesture before finding the pallet for Kratz to sleep on. He set it on the floor, beating it with his hand, sending up a cloud of dust. He coughed, breathing in the dust and shook his head. Blankets were found after that.
Kratz came out of the room just as he was settling into the rocking chair.
“You’ll get a crick in your neck if you fall asleep there.”
“It’s more comfortable than the floor,” Raven said, putting his feet up on the bench.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said as he lay down on the pallet.
“Good night Kratz.”
“Good night.”