Hiya peeps! I'm back! So, this is my latest stupid idea for a fic. It's a little different, as you'll soon see. First of all, it's set in a different world. Think of it as being a time travel fic . . . except that they're already there. Yeah. Imagine the world as your typical fantasy scenario – pretty much like ours before any significant technology came out, but with magic and stuff. The second thing that might mess you up if you're not paying attention is that each of the chapters in the body of the story is told from a different person's POV, and no one's POV is repeated. So, if you want to know how long this fic'll be, look at the character list. In theory I'm writing a chappie for each of them. That's twenty-eight for those of you who don't like to count, plus prologue and epilogue. Oh yeah, and if you're wondering why nobody has a job description next to their name except Mask, it's because Mask already has her chapter up. The others will have theirs filled in when I do their chappie. I think that that's about it. Wow, that is a massive author note. Well, at least for me. Congrats if you read it all!
Disclaimer: Last night I snuck into Disney and stol- ((cough)) rescued all the newsies from the horrible damp dark storage shed they were being kept in. Shhhh! Don't tell anyone! ((police cars screech to a stop outside house, while SWAT team beats down doors, leading in an army of lawyers)) Rats! Foiled again! But someday those boys will be mine!
"The sands of time cannot be stopped. Years pass whether we will them or not . . . but we can remember. What has been lost may yet live on in memories. That which you will hear is imperfect and fragmented, yet treasure it, for without you it does not exist. I give you now a memory that has been forgotten, hidden in the dreamy haze that lies behind us . . ."
--Christopher Paolini, Eragon
The old man sat next to the fireplace with children clustered all around him. He smiled sadly to himself as he watched a few of them playing a game with a very battered set of wooden dice that had clearly seen better days. They reminded him of so many things. Unbidden and thoroughly unwelcome he felt a tear form in his eye. He shook his head forcefully, rubbing the offending moisture out and inadvertently bringing himself to the attention of a small boy who had been unoccupied. The youngster promptly scrambled into his lap demanding, "Story! Story!"
When the elder began to make it clear that he didn't want to tell a story, and indeed he would much rather sit and nap by the fire, the boy began to stir up the children around him, working them into a feverish chant: "STORY! STORY!"
At last the man held up his gnarled hands and muttered, "All right! All right! You can stop with that infernal noise, at least.
"Now," he said, looking wryly at the suddenly silent solemn faces that surrounded him, "tonight I think I will tell you a story you have not yet heard. It is a true story, and indeed, it happened not too long ago.
"It was on a night very much like this one seven and seventy years ago that a desperate group of slaves broke out of their place of captivity. There were twenty-eight of them, but they had divided into four groups of seven each in order to help evade capture. And yes," he added hastily to a small boy trying furiously to work out the sums on his fingers, "that comes out evenly. Now, these people were very young, teenagers mostly. They were called laepes by those who enslaved them. It is not wise to call these former masters by their true Name, even now; for as all of you youngsters know, Names have power. I shall call them the Fea; that is as good a name as any. They were not especially cruel, as masters go, but the yoke of slavery was still strong enough to make the slaves, or laepes as we must call them, yearn for freedom.
"And then one day, something happened. A terrible thing, caused by the cruel, cold arrogance of the Fea. It drove the laepes to the end of their patience and convinced all who did not already believe that they must escape. And so, with the help of one who was cunning with tools, one was strong of body and one who was sharp of mind, the laepes broke out of their enclosure, which they called the Pen. It is here that our story truly begins . . .
They were running."