Forest of Macadia

Forest of Macadia

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy

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Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy

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Chapter1 (v.1) - chapter 1

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 14, 2017

Reads: 43

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 14, 2017

A A A

A A A

The enchanted forest beckons me into its pulsing heart. How can I resist such a lush Garden of Eden? The deep, haunting ballad of its ancient song calling out to me, gripping at my very soul. As old as Adam and Eve, the forest is still steeped in plushness and opulence.

With a light heart, I plunge into the over-arching vault of leaf and limb. It was not what I had expected. The exquisiteness of the dawn’s light hath never penetrated the foliage on to the lush, green sward. Because of this, hoods of black shadow hung in the groves.

Coils of vaporous mist enwrap the shaggy bases of the enormous dark oaks. Writhing around them like a conjuror’s milky smoke, sensuous and illusory. Sieves of mist caressed the lichen-encrusted bark. Adding its phantasmal gas to the damp breath of the forest, it glided with deadly intent. It deadens sound, haunting the glades and pouring into the darkness. A sepulchral of silence overhung the hallow ground where the trees dare not grow. Nothing stirred, nothing shone, nothing sang, but yet a hollow echoing, like the hushed tones of a great, slabed cathedral, entombs the wood.

Mystified by the wondrous beauty of such darkness I begin to explore it. To find the source of such an entrancing song that hath no singer. I begin to walk in one direction and end up in the same location without ever turning.

Mystified and astonished I put my back against a knobby boulder, leaning my head against its mossy pillow. I close my eyes, let my stream of consciousness take hold, and drift into infinity. When I awake, I could no longer remember my dream, but darkness and solidarity still lingered in my memory. The forest gone I find myself in a dark creaky floored room, mist enveloping the floor seeping through the battle-scarred door.

Now out of my bed I search for my clothing, a simple undershirt stained with sweat with a dingy blue over shirt, and a pair of grey cloth pants. While I search for them I notice my sword, a simple one handed steel broad sword with a blood groove down the blade and a concave sharpening, is not in its sheath of leather and steel. Grabbing it to sheath it I find my clothes are under it, and on them is blood, not remembering how it got there I begin to question what happened.

 Walking by a mirror I see not myself but another man, one I have never seen before. Who am I, I am obviously no longer myself, Hanir Redore, what happen to me, why am I in this new body. I notice a closet on the far side of the room, opening it I find some other clothing, this time not bloody. I put them on, yet again the same thing but the over shirt is green instead of blue.

Bang, Bonk, Bang..... Jakir Tros, open the door we know you killed, Hanir Redore.

Who is Jakir Tros? I am Hanir Redore and I am not dead. I open the door and see three men, all holding swords drawn as if expecting a fight, I am Hanir Redore, I repeat now to their faces. Now sheath your swords.

Only if you come with us you sick freak, first you kill Hanir now you think you are Hanir.

Okay, I’ll come with you, first let me go get my belt though, I turn and walk over to the bed where my sword lay, I pick up my belt and put it on, then I grasp the leather wrapped hilt of my blade. I don’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice, charging at the first man I kick his knee out causing him to drop to the ground, finishing him off by stabbing my sword in his chest when he hits the ground. Who’s next?

Both thrust their swords towards my chest, stepping back dodging the attack, I watch their swords clang together. Swinging my blade upwards out of their dead friends chest, I disarm them. They both rush in one punching at my chest, the other kicking low toward the knees. Thrusting my blade downwards into the stomach of the punching man. Swinging upwards and to the left, the blade leaves his body ripping through everything in its path. Somehow managing to grab his weapon again, the final man, swings a barrage of attacks, clang, clung, I block two with my sword and roll to the side swinging my blade at his leg. Looking back I see he is on the ground bleeding out, I thrust my blade into his back and finishing him off.

Moving quickly, grabbing the sheath to the sword, I walk out the door strapping the sheath to my waist. The thoughts running through my head, run, run, get out if this town as fast as possible, find an inn or tavern a couple towns over to stay in. Passing an old shack with a horse tied outside, my thoughts change, steal the horse it will be faster than running. After undoing the horse I hop on to its back, galloping off opposite the direction of the rising sun.


© Copyright 2017 Micheal Gonsalves. All rights reserved.

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