If you want more chapters, or just want to give me constructive feedback, give a hoot and review. =) I need at least 5 to make Chapter 3, so if you like this, feel free and comment.
Chapter 1
It was a dark and cold night. No,
that's not it. Hmm. Once upon a time. No, not that either. Ugh… I know! In a land many realms away, in a land with magic, things could not be solved with smurfs singing "La, La, lalalala, sing a happy"; no. It was a moonlit night (that's how all great novels start). Now, my friend Angela is giving me the death stare, so I'll probably continue the story. Where was I? Oh yes.
It was a moonlit night, cold and foreboding. Not a leaf was stirring, not a breath in the forest. Suddenly, something appeared on the horizon. There were two werecats, common in the realm of Alagaësia. They looked scared, worried, and kept checking something wrapped in a bundle of blankets. They pricked their ears, listening. A calm fog rolled over them, but apart from that, nothing. Only the sound of the leaves crunching under their paws and the occasional breeze wafting by. Their eyes flicked side to side, adrenaline coursing, looking to find something that they couldn't see.
All of a sudden, the breeze abruptly stopped. They saw a hooded silhouette approach them with the darkness as his shadow. The Shade Durza was a nefarious sorcerer with superhuman skill and agility, and he came upon them in a thunderous flash, with a spring in his step and a sneer on his face.
"It has been a long time since we last met," boomed Durza. His reptilian skin made him seem inhuman, which he was.
"We will kill you even if it costs us our lives," shrieked Enstûrí, the male werecat.
Durza grinned, then chuckled, then laughed. He laughed a laugh which did not sound unlike knives crawling down his throat. Every living thing in a mile radius sensed the hairs on their back rise in fear.
Enstûrí suddenly shouted, "Go, go Nárostá!"
The female werecat scooped the bundle of blankets and bolted like she evaporated, one second she was there, the next second, Poof! Gone. Now, only Enstûrí was with Durza.
"Give me it!" Durza bellowed.
"She is well away by now."
"Never." As Durza headed in Nárostá's direction, Enstûrí blocked him and growled. Durza chuckled deep in his throat. "You cannot stop me. Brisngr!" A torrent of yellow fire erupted around Durza and Enstûrí. The immense flames licked Enstûrí's fur, singing it. Enstûrí yelped and jumped back. With a growl, that would've put even Simba in shame, Enstûrí turned into a shaggy human. His black dreadlocks bounced aimlessly around his head. The air tasted metallic. Short black hair, pale with chiseled chin, Enstûrí held identical ivory swords in each hand. Each ivory sword contained ancient glyphs written on the edges. "Now," Durza said, "We begin."
Enstûrí and Durza circled each other inside the ring of fire. Enstûrí growled, Durza sneered. Then, silence. Not a leaf rustled in the wind. The crackle of the flames and the hypnotic dances of them were the only sound and movement outside the ring of fire. Suddenly, Enstûrí slashed at Durza with his ivory swords. Durza side-stepped. Enstûrí slashed again, trying to fend him off, but to no avail.
Durza pulled out a dark green sword out of a hidden sheath beneath the folds of his dark gray robe. The sword also contained glyphs, but were vibrating, eager for blood. Enstûrí sliced at Durza and achieved in cutting him beneath his right eye. Durza snarled and cut Enstûrí in the same place he cut him. The next events were too much to bear. Slash, attack, parry, defend. All the while, the ring of fire grew higher, the flames more and more intense.
If a human was watching, all they would see were two blurs moving like hummingbird's wings. Enstûrí got more and more exhausted. He couldn't take it much longer. Enstûrí saw Durza's left flank open and vulnerable and charged in for the killing blow. Durza saw what he was doing and tried to sidestep, but it was too late. Enstûrí's sword made a squishing sound as it plunged in Durza's heart. Durza, eyes widening, fell to his knees, while looking straight into Enstûrí's eyes.
Suddenly, Durza lifted his sword and shouted "Flauga!" (Fly!) His sword flew smack dab straight into Enstûrí's heart. He stared at the sword in disbelief. Everything was silent, Enstûrí still in shock, but Durza wasn't over yet. "Brisngr!" shrieked Durza. The ring of fire slowly homed in on Enstûrí and Durza. He saw stars, real ones, come into view as he stared at the night sky.
Enstûrí shouted to Durza, for the once silent flames homing in on them turned to a roar, "If I die, I'm taking you with me!" The flames singed his flesh, but he didn't mind. He just stared at Durza.
"You are so foolish Enstûrí," Durza screeched. He waved his hand and a section of the flames and said, "Brisngr, sharjalví!" (Fire, move!) A small hole appeared in the flames, and Durza jumped through it before it disappeared. Now, the ring of fire was only around Enstûrí. I am pleased to tell you that he fainted from the blood loss before the flames consumed him.
Durza walked toward the crime scene and yanked his sword from Enstûrí's heart. After that, the shade let him lie there, unburied, forgotten. That malevolent shade pulled Enstûrí's sword from his own heart. "Waisé Hellí!" (Be healed!) His heart where Enstûrí stabbed him, mended easily. One second it was there, the next as good as new. The murderer, with a smirk full of malice, shot off like a cannon towards Nárostá and the bundle of blankets.
Meanwhile, many leagues away from them Nárostá scampered as if her life depended on it. And guess what, it did. With only the dense canopy of trees to hide her, Nárostá darted north of the Spine. The trees had branches which swayed in sync to the wind, and even come down as if grabbing at her. She didn't dare look back, for fear of what she might see. But curiosity overtook her and she glimpsed a look back. She felt something snag her left paw and fell face first into the ground. When she recovered, with her blankets in one paw, she looked to see what tripped her. It was a dead animal. Its dead beady eyes staring back at her as if saying "You're next". She shuddered. Yes, she felt the loss of Enstûrí deep in her heart. Nothing she could do about it now. The trees cast eerie shadows which coursed adrenaline in her body and encouraged her to sprint. She did the only sane thing to do. She ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran.
A couple miles away, Durza was a blur of gray amongst a black portrait. He used his Shade abilities to track Nárostá down. She was there. He would be with her in ten seconds. He counted. One…Two…Three…
Four…Five…Six…Seven pounded the rhythm of her paws touching the ground. Eight. She did not know where she was running to, she wanted to get away from Durza. Nine. Hmm, she thought. Maybe I can run away from Dur- Slam! She smashed into something hard, maybe a tree, headfirst. Dazed, Nárostá looked up to see what she had hit. It was a gnarly tree, as she guessed, but not into the ground. If Nárostá had time to turn around, she would see Durza levitating it. But, Nárostá instead got bashed unconscious from the tree.
She awoke in the same spot the heinous act took place. It was bad fortune to harm a werecat in any way, but Durza killed one and harmed the other. She tasted blood dripping from her lip. She found the bundle of blankets a little more than an arm's reach away. As she tried to get up from the grimy floor, a black stained boot forced her head back to the Earth. Durza reached forward and picked up the bundle of blankets. His master, Galbatorix, will be so pleased when he gives it to him. Durza, milking the moment, sneered at Nárostá.
"What can you possibly do now, huh? I took your happiness, now I will take your life," Durza said as a matter-of-fact.
"I'm not done yet, sorcerer," she spat. With a grunt, she jumped up, snatched the bundle of blankets with the "package" inside and crawled. Durza chuckled, "You cannot run with a broken leg." That was true, for Nárostá had a broken leg from the tree. But Nárostá didn't need to crawl far. She scooped up a rock next to her and threw it at him. She had such good arm power, it hit him right in the nose and made him scream.
Nárostá quickly muttered a magical incantation. "Atra Eka waíse vardo fra eld hórnya." (May I be warded from listeners). Durza heard the words, and angrily asked, "What are you doing?!"
Nárostá couldn't tell him even if she wanted to. After she set up the warding spell, Durza couldn't hear a word she said. She quickly chanted, "Fá Iet Burr Eom Austrvegr Abr Du Welden!" (take my son to the east of the forest) When Durza found out what she was doing, he only had time to shout, "No!" before she finished. There were rumors that female werecats had some magical abilities, but not as powerful as her. When she finished the incantation, Nárostá lifted the blankets, and with a blinding flash of light, the "package" was gone.
Durza shouted, "What have you done!" but he already knew. Nárostá did none other than teleport the package. Nárostá could not speak, for she saw the world spinning. There is a rule: "All magic comes with a price." Nárostá's price was soon to come. She was dizzy with exhaustion. Nárostá used one of the most tiring, exhausting, and the most complicated of all spells in the realm of Alagaësia. She felt her insides spontaneously combust. With a grunt, Nárostá fell down to the ground, her insides on fire. As the flames consumed her, she reunited with the Earth goddess once and for all.
Now, only God knows where it traveled. But God knew. It teleported to the east of the Spine a couple hundred miles, way out of Durza's mental radar. The package landed hard on its bottom, enough to make an infant cry. And, guess what. From inside the fold of the blankets, a small, tiny, helpless werecat did.
Mother werecats are supposed to name their baby, but because she was running away from the monstrous shade, she didn't have time. If the parents on the werecat dies before they name it, the baby names itself.
This werecat wasn't an "it". It was a boy. The baby landed hard on the ground, so his bum really hurt. Also, he knew what became of his mother and father. He was sad. Solemn and his bum hurt. Solemn bum. Solembum. Once a werecat makes a name, that would be it's name forever. Baby werecats supposedly have extraordinary intelligence. Here, Solembum observed around him. He only found trees, trees, trees, trees, and more trees. Did I mention trees? Solembum heard something, a twig snap. Two humans walked from the trees. Solembum could only cower.
Few humans are humble, but these humans were. They were two farmers from Carvahall. They spotted the shivering werecat infant, and at once took pity on it.
"Should we take him?", said a gruff voice.
"I don't know", mused another.
"I always wanted a cat, but Ma never let me." Both voices had a vague Redneck accent.
They cautiously stepped closer to it. Solembum did nothing. He could do nothing. Only watched helplessly as the farmers carried him to their arms, and headed back to the village. Solembum, like all cats and werecats, thought he was better than humans, but these humans showed him love and compassion. He could have starved, froze, but these farmers took him under their paw, so to speak.
Fog rolled in the forest, the same fog which rolled over Enstûrí's body and Nárostá's ashes. Solembum smelled it. It was tainted with his parent's blood. I will have my revenge on Durza, Solembum vowed. He would not stop looking until Durza spills every drop of his black blood. Under one of the farmer's arm, Solembum, smiled, his rows of carnivorous teeth showing. I will have my revenge.