BMistark
08-15-2016, 03:10 PM
Hey everyone! This is my first post ever. It is a fiction novel that I am writing, this being the first chapter. I hope you all enjoy it and any feedback is more than welcome! Let me know what you think! Thank you 😊
CHAPTER 1: As Red as the Flames
The night was quiet; only the rustle of dry grass and autumn leaves could be heard along the steeds short breathes, whispering broken promises into the wind. Nothing stirred as if all was asleep; even the moon had gone to rest, hiding itself away; for even the moon knows when murderous treachery is amidst. Below, the village of Oakwood became drowsy as the last few lights became extinguished, leaving a thick haze of smoke that danced and became consumed by the night.
Slowly, he turned the horse around and rode to the tree line at the top of the hill. His cloak pressed flatly against his back, blending in with the darkness, flailing at the tips as the wind picked up its pace; like a heart scraped by the claws of fear. He reached the woods, planting himself before his men and turned back to face the village once more. He raised his arm, waving it in a half circle. Through the darkness, large wings emerged, gray as ash, cutting through the sky. With a padded sound, a hawk landed effortlessly on its masters leather glove. The young men behind him made nervous mutterings, looking uneasy at the birds piercing gaze. With a wave of his hand, a small white glow from the crystal imbedded in his forearm illuminated his mount giving it a ghostly look as he placed his heavy hand on the birds head. After a moment, the magical light ceased and the hawk took off into the night across the village towards the woods, enthusiastic to send out the masters bidding.
Moments later, a small light flickered on the other side of the town and more started to follow as the archers hidden in the woods flanking the north side of town fired their bows into the village and in unison, the flaming arrows shot through the sky, cutting through the darkness like a blade and striking the houses in anger. The flames began to eat greedily, ravaging through the wood of each house, fueled by the anger of the wind. The townsfolk woke up in alarm as the wind carried the embers like waves of an ocean. Quickly the fire jumped from home to home relentlessly billowing smoke from its hellish jaws. Some of the men swarmed the flames attempting to put it all out, when another wave of arrows came through the night, dispersing the futile attempt.
Screams roared from the town as families scrambled to band together loved ones; arrows piercing skin and flesh. With a last ditch effort, snapping out of their shock, they ran. They ran hard south towards the hill where the dark clad hound from hell lay watching from his steed. What had once been their homes; their sanctuaries, now let out their last exhausted supports, collapsing into nothing but a burning heap of ash and smoke. Few homes were left untouched. Like a herd of sheep the villagers raced towards the foot of the hill, running from their years of hard work that had been taken away in seconds.
On the hill, the young men became restless, like starved wolves. The screech of the falcon rang through the night. They all looked at him impatiently, as he lifted his arm to the sky. The hopeless men and women below reached the hill, and downward his arm came. Hooves thudded, cutting harshly through the dirt as the men rushed down the hill on their steeds; their swords cutting down quickly and harshly, slaughtering everything in their path. Blood quickly stained the earth as the bodies of the innocent fell, and all became red, as red as the flames.
CHAPTER 1: As Red as the Flames
The night was quiet; only the rustle of dry grass and autumn leaves could be heard along the steeds short breathes, whispering broken promises into the wind. Nothing stirred as if all was asleep; even the moon had gone to rest, hiding itself away; for even the moon knows when murderous treachery is amidst. Below, the village of Oakwood became drowsy as the last few lights became extinguished, leaving a thick haze of smoke that danced and became consumed by the night.
Slowly, he turned the horse around and rode to the tree line at the top of the hill. His cloak pressed flatly against his back, blending in with the darkness, flailing at the tips as the wind picked up its pace; like a heart scraped by the claws of fear. He reached the woods, planting himself before his men and turned back to face the village once more. He raised his arm, waving it in a half circle. Through the darkness, large wings emerged, gray as ash, cutting through the sky. With a padded sound, a hawk landed effortlessly on its masters leather glove. The young men behind him made nervous mutterings, looking uneasy at the birds piercing gaze. With a wave of his hand, a small white glow from the crystal imbedded in his forearm illuminated his mount giving it a ghostly look as he placed his heavy hand on the birds head. After a moment, the magical light ceased and the hawk took off into the night across the village towards the woods, enthusiastic to send out the masters bidding.
Moments later, a small light flickered on the other side of the town and more started to follow as the archers hidden in the woods flanking the north side of town fired their bows into the village and in unison, the flaming arrows shot through the sky, cutting through the darkness like a blade and striking the houses in anger. The flames began to eat greedily, ravaging through the wood of each house, fueled by the anger of the wind. The townsfolk woke up in alarm as the wind carried the embers like waves of an ocean. Quickly the fire jumped from home to home relentlessly billowing smoke from its hellish jaws. Some of the men swarmed the flames attempting to put it all out, when another wave of arrows came through the night, dispersing the futile attempt.
Screams roared from the town as families scrambled to band together loved ones; arrows piercing skin and flesh. With a last ditch effort, snapping out of their shock, they ran. They ran hard south towards the hill where the dark clad hound from hell lay watching from his steed. What had once been their homes; their sanctuaries, now let out their last exhausted supports, collapsing into nothing but a burning heap of ash and smoke. Few homes were left untouched. Like a herd of sheep the villagers raced towards the foot of the hill, running from their years of hard work that had been taken away in seconds.
On the hill, the young men became restless, like starved wolves. The screech of the falcon rang through the night. They all looked at him impatiently, as he lifted his arm to the sky. The hopeless men and women below reached the hill, and downward his arm came. Hooves thudded, cutting harshly through the dirt as the men rushed down the hill on their steeds; their swords cutting down quickly and harshly, slaughtering everything in their path. Blood quickly stained the earth as the bodies of the innocent fell, and all became red, as red as the flames.