Disclaimer: Okay, what you recognize, isn't mine. What you don't recognize is mine. (Such as, Yamazaki, Ailin and Derrin).
The Wave warriorChapter One
It's been 20 years since anyone has tried to free me. The last boy had stopped at the arrival of his 19th birthday, odd because he had only just become a squire. I remember every Saturday evening he would come and study at my feet, trying to decode the spell on me. He did not know it, but what he called 'an education and a time killer' would be my freedom.
My name is Ailin, warrior of Wavewalker, and I am a statue. I reside in a little seen corner of the Gallery of Portraits. I have been here for 782 years, turned to stone by the World Snake; then resembling a Yamani dragon, with all the fixings. In that battle I defended Wavewalker and changed the World Snake into what he is now; hacking off his limbs, ears and other things that distinguished him from a snake. He had burned off the majority of my clothing (how mine hair survived, I do not know) when he released a sonic blast that froze me in time and space.
Since that moment, I have been waiting, the most mentionable would be Jehren of South Olorun and Nakalai of Tasride, a pair who would have succeeded if they had not grown so fast and half charred their notes in excitement-induced clumsiness. Apart from those boys a century back, there was Nealan of Queenscove, the one who studied at my feet 20 years ago. He was the most memorable; spoke to me as though I could respond, wrote poetry in my honour and then his eyes. One could not forget such as, green as emeralds and alive with mischief.
I have not seen such eyes until a fortnight ago, when a slight, young page had wandered into the gallery. He was tanned, had near-black hair and almond-shaped eyes. A copy of Nealan with a Yamani twist.
Ha came stumbling in reading a slip of parchment and a bag slung over his shoulder, looking about himself as though searching –then he spotted me in my corner, double-glaive raised to ward off my enemy. He came over and looked behind my legs. He had found Nealan's notes! He then made a rubbing of the inscription on my base, adding the new sheet to the papers he'd stuffed into his bag. He then kneeled looking up into my shocked, stone face and whispered:
"Fear not, Wave warrior, I, Yamazaki of Queenscove, will set you free."
With that Nealan's son strode out of the Gallery with his father's notes.
Ђ one year later or 783 years after the fact Ђ
"Ailin, Ailin! I figured out another line," Zak cried as he sped into the gallery. Yamazaki, or Zak, had made excellent progress, but that was to be expected as he fulfilled Wavewalker's prophecy. This was the fourth line of the difficult Banjiku text he had decrypted leaving only four more to go. However, it had been those lines that had slowed Jehren and Nakalai to a crawl. What would they do to this lone, eleven-year old boy? Only time will tell. I left my musings to examine the lad who eagerly read out the 27 lines of the healing spell that he had. His pronunciation was excellent, but then again being fluent in Yamani likely helped him. I allowed my mind to wander out to the practice courts.
A pair of third year pages were sparring. The girl was winning, much to my delight, but then again she was the daughter of Keladry of Mindelan. Promised to succeed in her blood –like how Zak was in spirit.
Ђ Nighttime Ђ
The moon rose and I was alone again. This left me with only my memories of the battle, fore that was why I existed –to fight. I was born out of Wavewalker's fury and then trained by the ocean. Why would a goddess need a lesser being to fight for her? Well, back then Wavewalker was peaceful, she hadn't needed to fight as both mortals and immortals respected her and her domain. So I, the Wave warrior, had to battle against the World Snake who had provoked the gentle water goddess with insults I shan't repeat.
The Battle was still fresh in my mind, the flames, the large bleeding body of the World Snake, and the hiss of the air as my small, pale figure sliced at the Snake with my double-glaive. The battle had waned for two-days so far, when I hacked off his remaining front leg while being showered in green flame. The pain and humour, behind that fight was odd. However now I am here, until the spell is broken. Now to wait for morning.
Ђ the mess hall, morning Ђ
"Hey, Zak I heard that your conquest has been rocky!" joked one page as he slung an arm over Zak's shoulders. Zak shrugged off the arm as he turned to face the coppery-bronze haired boy.
"Nice to know you care, Hollyrose," Zak responded wryly, "I, however, am more concerned about our breakfast. So if we may…" Zak gestured to the line.
"Alright, but I've known for you for a year and now you won't call me by my name, that means that something is wrong. And no, you may not say otherwise because then you'd be lying. So what is it?" the other second year page prompted, whose name by the way is Derrin (day-reen).
"If you must know, I solved another line…"
"Then your problem is…"
"…But the next one contains not a single familiar character." Zak continued, "I'll never figure it out at this rate."
"Zak, you're complaining…oh and Dané wants to know if you want eggs." Zak's eyes flew up and he nodded, smiling sheepishly at the woman who eyed him quizzically. The two pages then sat and waited for Sir Padraig to say a prayer. After the aforementioned, they began to eat in silence. On second thought, today didn't seem so bad.
Ђ practice courts Ђ
"High, middle, low! High, middle, low!" the shouts of Sir Padraig matching the clacks of wood on wood. It was more staff practice, but Zak didn't mind that muck. He would prefer to be working on the spell, but playing with weapons would suffice. He wondered what Ailin was doing now.
'Does she even have a conscious? And if she does, can it move about…' Zak stroked his chin in thought.
"Queenscove!" the voice boomed behind him, "what did I tell you about using your Gift for this."
Zak snapped out of his reverie to look at what the training master indicated; his staff defending on it's own. For you see, Zak could not only heal but he could move things with his Gift, a useful skill for a lone healer. Only this time it wasn't him.
"But, sir, my lord, it isn't me…" he protested, "…It's blue. The magic's blue." That was true enough.
The pale fire surrounding the staff was a delicate blue. Derrin, who was Zak's partner, was grinning. The blue flame controlled his staff to.
"Sir, does this mean we need no practice?" Derrin asked hopefully. You could tell he was hopeful because his ears had popped out. Pointed tip and all, for you see his mother was an immortal that chose love over eternal life. Most people said that she had bewitched Merric, but Zak's father said else wise. Now, Padraig fixed his eye sternly on Derrin.
"No, if anything, whomever is doing this," he flapped his hand at the staffs, "wants you to know how to swing and defend properly. And for Mithros' sake, Derrin hide your ears! We're tolerant of immortals, but we do not need you to flaunt you ancestry."
" 'Kay Sir!" Derrin responded cheerfully concealing his ears.
The two boys grasped the staffs again and watched the fire fade. It almost seemed as if someone whispered 'oh, fine…they're yours now!' as the light receded to whence it came. Inside the gallery, Ailin drooped inside, 'and I was having so much fun. Meanie!'
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Please R&R. Next Chapter should be up later tonight.
~*~Sarai IceElf~*~
