Three Hunters... Why did you stop! I need more! lol
Good story so far Magistrate. Might I suggest that you add a few more ambient descriptions about the surroundings. I can see it in my head but I would like a better representation of the story your trying to tell.
I agree. I'm limiting description until I have a final word count on the story, itself. I'm really afraid of going over.
I'm hesitant to post anything since I keep changing things, but this is the first draft of the first scene. The PoV is first-person subjective. The story is mostly outlined in the first scene. After the first scene, the story will alternate between the two characters in their opening positions and Sendri Calamont's story, in which case the reader is transported to the place and time of the actual events while Sendri's older form reflects on them.
Scene 1
The sun was setting over the isolated city of Einsteig as Sendri Calamont rotted in her crude prison. Often days she would watch as the white burst of harsh light sped across the sky to collapse into the west, thinking of her choices, of her past, and of the power of a name.
So it was that when the Sister of the Sightless Eye came with the jangling iron keyring to question her once more, Sendri was staring off out the barred window of her basement cell, the one that let in the crisp, frigid wind of the Sharval Wilds, lost in thought.
“You are old now, Hunter,” greeted the Sister, though not so much in a friendly sense. “How long now have you been in Einsteig, under our guardianship?”
“Too long to bother recounting,” whispered Sendri, her heavy eyes set on the horizon, thinking of all the suns that had set, all the things that had happened since her imprisonment. Freedom was no longer an option. To escape her cell would be to enter a foreign world, an equally dismal prison. “Too long for anything to change my mind.”
“And yet here we are, twenty years after comet, you are wasting away, and you still have not told us anything. Admit your story to the Sisterhood and you will be allowed to go free, we have said on countless occasion. But you choose otherwise. Remember that, Hunter: this is your choice.”
Sendri smiled bitterly, her dried, cracked lips spread thinly on her wrinkled face. “My last freedom, and one that I would be wise to maintain.”
Sendri heard the familiar sound of the lamp thunking on the weathered, simple table beside her cot as the Sister set it down, and then the creak of her makeshift bed as her inquisitor sat.
“Won’t you have a seat, Miss Calamont? Surely your age has brought weariness.”
The offer was tempting, but Sendri did not move. “You think that because you use my name I will be more open to your suggestion. You are mistaken.”
The Sister sighed. “It’s been twenty years. In all those years, have you not found it in your heart to do justice to your comrades-”
“You know nothing of justice,” Sendri spat. Her cracked lips sent saliva mixed with blood through the barred window to splatter on the packed earth beyond.
“But I do know some new information. My rogues have recently received reports of an unidentified Hunter buried below a cairn near a town known as Narkum, a town in the foothills of the upper mountains to the east of the Sharval Wilds.”
“It was once known as a town, that much is true. And it was once known as Narkum, a small village with little ambition to greet the outside world.”
“Then you know Narkum, the events that transpired there, and this Hunter?” The Sister’s tone rose slightly, her rhythm picked up speed, so eager for confirmation as she was. “Some outlying villages in the east of the Wilds whisper the name of the village only in fear.”
Sendri breathed a laugh. “A name is a powerful thing,” she said quietly. “You should remember that, Sister.”
“What will it cost me to hear your story? Whom will it hurt? What good does your secrecy do you besides keep you in our custody?” The Sister shifted closer on the cot. “Why have you denounced your order? Why did you break the Second Tenet? What happened in this Narkum?”
Sendri shook her head slowly, her stark gray hair shifting on her shoulders. “It will cost you no coins, but you must promise me one thing.”
Sendri Calamont heard an audible draw of breath as the Sister waited for her demand.
The sun sank finally sank below the far horizon, vanishing in one final glimmer of crimson light. The red glow reflected in Sendri’s eyes, reflected the intensity and severity of her demand. “You must promise to never name this story, to never write it down or tell anyone of it. Such things are meant to be forgotten.”
Without so much as another moment’s pause, the Sister agreed.
Sendri was old now. She could feel her bones aching, her muscles straining, and her skin sagging. Doing much of anything required enormous effort, even standing as she was. The thought of giving voice to a story ruminated a thousand times, every hour of every day since her incarceration, was likewise crippling.
“Then the first thing you should know is that there were three Hunters, and only I survived.”
Haha! I totally wasn't thinking that at the time
I agree. I'm limiting description until I have a final word count on the story, itself. I'm really afraid of going over.
So it was that when the Sister of the Sightless Eye came with the jangling iron keyring to question her once more, Sendri was staring off out the barred window of her basement cell, the one that let in the crisp, frigid wind of the Sharval Wilds, lost in thought.
“You are old now, Hunter,” greeted the Sister, though not so much in a friendly sense. “How long now have you been in Einsteig, under our guardianship?”
“Too long to bother recounting,” whispered Sendri, her heavy eyes set on the horizon, thinking of all the suns that had set, all the things that had happened since her imprisonment. Freedom was no longer an option. To escape her cell would be to enter a foreign world, an equally dismal prison. “Too long for anything to change my mind.”
“And yet here we are, twenty years after comet, you are wasting away, and you still have not told us anything. Admit your story to the Sisterhood and you will be allowed to go free, we have said on countless occasion. But you choose otherwise. Remember that, Hunter: this is your choice.”
Sendri smiled bitterly, her dried, cracked lips spread thinly on her wrinkled face. “My last freedom, and one that I would be wise to maintain.”
Sendri heard the familiar sound of the lamp thunking on the weathered, simple table beside her cot as the Sister set it down, and then the creak of her makeshift bed as her inquisitor sat.
“Won’t you have a seat, Miss Calamont? Surely your age has brought weariness.”
The offer was tempting, but Sendri did not move. “You think that because you use my name I will be more open to your suggestion. You are mistaken.”
The Sister sighed. “It’s been twenty years. In all those years, have you not found it in your heart to do justice to your comrades-”
“You know nothing of justice,” Sendri spat. Her cracked lips sent saliva mixed with blood through the barred window to splatter on the packed earth beyond.
“But I do know some new information. My rogues have recently received reports of an unidentified Hunter buried below a cairn near a town known as Narkum, a town in the foothills of the upper mountains to the east of the Sharval Wilds.”
“It was once known as a town, that much is true. And it was once known as Narkum, a small village with little ambition to greet the outside world.”
“Then you know Narkum, the events that transpired there, and this Hunter?” The Sister’s tone rose slightly, her rhythm picked up speed, so eager for confirmation as she was. “Some outlying villages in the east of the Wilds whisper the name of the village only in fear.”
Sendri breathed a laugh. “A name is a powerful thing,” she said quietly. “You should remember that, Sister.”
“What will it cost me to hear your story? Whom will it hurt? What good does your secrecy do you besides keep you in our custody?” The Sister shifted closer on the cot. “Why have you denounced your order? Why did you break the Second Tenet? What happened in this Narkum?”
Sendri shook her head slowly, her stark gray hair shifting on her shoulders. “It will cost you no coins, but you must promise me one thing.”
Sendri Calamont heard an audible draw of breath as the Sister waited for her demand.
The sun sank finally sank below the far horizon, vanishing in one final glimmer of crimson light. The red glow reflected in Sendri’s eyes, reflected the intensity and severity of her demand. “You must promise to never name this story, to never write it down or tell anyone of it. Such things are meant to be forgotten.”
Without so much as another moment’s pause, the Sister agreed.
Sendri was old now. She could feel her bones aching, her muscles straining, and her skin sagging. Doing much of anything required enormous effort, even standing as she was. The thought of giving voice to a story ruminated a thousand times, every hour of every day since her incarceration, was likewise crippling.
“Then the first thing you should know is that there were three Hunters, and only I survived.”