Untitled Book

Untitled Book

By Levi Mixon

11/17/10

Chapter 1

The War

Before Time

War has sounded. The drums beat and turn the blood of my ears with a storm of chaos. One man has started a war, not for vengeance, or for peace, but something far more trivial, greed. He turns about, thrashing at any one he can, wildly like an animal. No control, or wisdom, nothing worth redemption. In an instant what began as understanding, led to a selfish pursuit of power, and now on this eve of destruction, I witness the end.

The sound becomes louder, deafening, swords masked with marching, and death. They were brothers made to serve, and now a blade separates us all.

Noise fills the air, but something else has now mixed with it.
Light, I know not from where, yet it is there still. Shining on their armor, it distracts them; it calms them. The skies echo with silence, and they wait, for what, they do not know, but they wait.

A voice, so calm and quiet, it would have been missed, but for its power. One word, and in the dead of silence, none could comprehend its meaning.

Minutes pass in what seems like years... something has changed. Many stand, unknowing in victory, some have fallen, lacking the understanding of defeat.

He takes hold of his prize, what was once a maelstrom of power, is now as worthless as the sand under his feet. Through chaos it began, and in darkness it shall end: malice wrapped in cold metal, dripping with blood.

One by one, this plane holds empty, as the tides of war sweep their last. He walks into the distance, unable to accept what has happened. “There must be a way!” He says to himself. “I had the power; victory was at hand.”

Since that day, I have lived a thousand lifetimes, and I shall live to see a thousand more; and unlike my brethren, I am the only one of my kind. Guardians were made for war, they fight for the will of our Maker, the First, the Pre-genetor to us all. I exist for one purpose, that for which I was named. I tell of the first war: The War Before Time, for I am known as Scribe.

In chaos it began, and in darkness it shall end, and that is exactly what it has done. All of existence, that which is dark, was begotten from this blade. The Pharaohs worshiped it; the Huns guarded it, and today, it holds an even darker purpose.

There she is, young and beautiful, a child no older than twelve: Gorgeous golden locks of hair, curls wrapped tightly around her fingers. Every young man who laid eyes upon her, belonged to a heart full of desire.

Purity- that’s the word one would have used to describe her, as white as snow, in body and in mind. But today is different, today is Saturday, and Amy is looking forward to seeing her friends out in public. She loves the attention, and others love to arrest their minds on her, but today is different. Today someone else is watching her, someone older.

He has not seen the sun for many years, nor has it visited him. The shadows, it’s where he stands; it’s where he belongs.

“Hello Peter,” said Amy, “How are you today?” “Better,” replied Peter, “Now that you’re here.” What girl could have resisted the urge to blush, certainly not this specimen. “Oh don’t be so silly,” said Amy “You know how I feel about games.” Given the chance, Amy would have said many other things, for instance: “ I feel the same way about you.” Dash the human condition! For the greatest opportunities are those most easily lost.

Instead, they walk, the destination holds nothing in comparison to the journey. Perhaps just once, two people can achieve happiness. Peter takes her hand, and she gladly accepts, and tenderly, their stroll slows to a stop.

Amy turns to face Peter without loosing her grasp, and joins her other hand with his. They are two children on the verge of a new world, and their greatest fear is not knowing. Experience is what stops them, but new curiosity enthralls them. He closes his eyes, and she follows him in perfect symmetry. Closer and closer.

WHUMP!

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Amy opens her eyes carefully, afraid of what this new noise would mean. Blood! Amy had seen accidents before, mild scrapes, but this was different, there was more than a person could imagine, and almost as much as one might hold. Peter lay limp, and asleep on the ground, more bleeding than anything, but useless nonetheless.

“Scream, yes, thats what I should do!” Before the sound could be made, something had grabbed her. Prick! “What was that?” Amy thought to herself.

As Amy fell, she managed to turn around, and see what might have been the face of her plight, but he was wearing a mask, dark brown leather, with straps on either side of his face, his lips were exposed, as well as his eyes, thin and cruel lips, holding a lifetime of malice. Eyes so dark they buried the sun.

Without hesitation, a van approaches, and engulfs their presence, vanishing once more into the shadows.

Drip, drip, drip. “Water?” Amy thought to herself. “Why do I hear water?” Indeed it was water she had heard. In the far corner of the room, there was a steady leak, and outside a storm stirred about on what might have been the darkest day known to man. Now, if only she could open her eyes.

“What happened?” She thought to herself “where is Peter? Oh no! He was bleeding, and then something jabbed me in the neck, it must have been a needle.” She’s been drugged, all of her ability holds incapable, but as it has been some time since her power has been arrested, she has regained a small amount of control. Slowly, Amy lifts her hand, and quickly realizes restraint. She has been tied down, hands, feet, and mouth, but not her eyes. If only she’d been blinded too, then maybe she would be spared a small amount of torment. Amy opens her eyes with great difficulty, and becomes sentient of her dim situation.

Amy had seen bigger rooms, much bigger, her house alone would have swallowed this one whole, but yet there was something familiar about this one. Stone, plenty of stone; it looked like some ancient cathedral she’d been in years before. “Was that a gargoyle?” Amy thought to herself. Yes, in fact it was a gargoyle in a stone-laden cathedral, built in the late 18th century, but right now, Amy has far more pressing matters to attend to, such as the strangely clad men gathering about the altar she has been lain upon. “I think they're chanting something,” Amy thought, “What are they saying?” Amy’s mind was still clouded with drugs persecuting her system. If she had been able to hear them, this is what it would have sounded like.

“In chaos it began, in darkness it shall end.” They chanted growing in number and volume. “In chaos it began, in darkness it shall end.”

The drugs had almost lost their effect, and Amy could hear the words more clearly. “In chaos it began, in darkness it shall end.” Gripped with fear Amy’s heart began to race faster and faster.

“How did this happen? Why am I here?” She thought to herself. “Is Peter alright? Is he alive?” All good questions. “What do they want with me? I wouldn’t hurt anyone. Maybe I can reason with them?” Amy began to talk, but the muzzle, wrapped firmly around her mouth, made sure there would be only silence. “SCREAM!” only a muffled noise escaped, not even her captors noticed the change.

“If only John knew where I was?” John, her brother, always looking out for her, annoying as hell, but then again, what sibling isn’t? When Amy was born, John immediately loved her, and swore to protect her no matter what it would cost him. He was never a brutish fellow, tall and handsome certainly, but kind, and clever. Once when Amy was little, a boy in their neighborhood liked Amy more than he ought to. Amy held no such reply. John sat the boy down and explained, that if a girl doesn’t like a boy, he must respect her wishes. Needless to say, the young lad didn’t take kindly to this advice, and began to swing rampantly at John, but John was five years older than him, and easily dispatched of him.

Over the following months John needed to have a sit down with the boy many more times, each event ending in the very same manner. Eventually the boy moved away, and was never heard from again. John was exactly the type of brother one might wish for. A shining knight, shimmering in the sun, at least that's how Amy felt about her older brother. Always there, always protecting her, but not today. Today is different; today Amy is alone.

Clop, clop, clop. Footsteps, very distinct footsteps, so far everyone standing had tread carefully, but not him; he was different. He was tall, taller than the rest, but dressed the same. Every man had worn a robe, dark as the new moon, and as thick as night. At the center of their hoods were two red stripes about two fingers width, which ran straight down the back, and one stripe on each arm. The red was dark, menacing, the same color as Peter's blood earlier that day. Amy shuddered once more as this thought passed her mind, but who was this man approaching her? His face was covered with something, something dark. Amy could see the skin of every mans face, but not his. There was something familiar, something recent about his face. “IT’S YOU!” At least that's what she meant to say, but that infernal muzzle clamped her mouth shut once more. It was the same man who had grabbed her, a dark leather bound mask with straps and buckles to make sure it couldn’t be easily removed. “What does he want?” Amy asked herself. Amy began rocking herself back and forth, attempting to break her bonds, but with no avail. “Be still,” said the masked man. Chills ran down her spine. There was something unnatural in his voice. Needless to say, Amy was not still; his very presence unsettled her. “Do you know why you're here, child?” He asked her. “You’re very special; you are the greatest gift anyone could ever ask for.” This did not ease Amy’s fear. “You are the key to something far greater than anything that has ever existed.” He said. “So do not fear, because, all mankind shall benefit from your sacrifice.” Amy began to struggle harder. “Tisk tisk, we won’t have any of that.” He places his hand down on the center of her abdomen, and with very little effort takes away her last movement. He raises his hand as if to make a request, and without hesitation a different robed man appears bearing something new. A blade, one unlike anything she had ever seen before. There was something familiar, yet dark about it. Amy could hear nothing but her heart beating in her ears. Thump-thump, thump- thump. It grew louder still: thump-thump, thump-thump, deafening. The masked man drew closer with this strange weapon; it was made as though two blades were to meet at the center and never join. As he drew in a deep breath, Amy could feel her warmth leave where his hand was placed and joined with him. “Prepare the way.” The masked man drew the blade towards her heart, thump-thump, thump-thump. Silence more deafening than her heart could handle, yet it beat faster still. Thump thump, thump thump. Amy gazed into the eyes of her captor, as if to beg for mercy. He stared back into hers, and for a moment, there was hope. An eternity has passed in this instant; he breaks their gaze with a smile, and Amy knows one thing: this man has only known evil. With his icy hand, he grasps her belly, and she feels it’s lack of love.

The masked man plunges the blade into her fear-stricken heart. Amy shrieks in a cry of panic, a weak whimpering cry, as she breathes her last. Amy is still; Amy is silent.

He smiles upon his work, planned longer than he would care to admit, but its culmination bears fruit on this eve. He says the words he has waited to say all of his lifetime. “It has begun.”