Chronicles of Draezoln

Tales of the world of Draezoln

Monthly Archives: September 2011

Chapter 15-3

Once he picked himself up off of the ground and looked around, he saw that the tree was much bigger on the inside than the outside. The interior reminded him of some kind of shrine, but one that had been grown rather than built. He could see outside through several archways which seemed to be somehow naturally formed by the tree. Almonihah started when he saw that there were fell-wolves prowling around outside, but it quickly became clear that they didn’t realize the arches were there.

Now that he had a bit of time to calm down, the half-dragon thought he knew more or less what this was. He’d heard stories about sacred places of Naishia hidden in the wilderness—valleys that could only be entered once, groves hidden behind waterfalls, and so on. No one knew if they were the work of long-dead Druids, or if Naishia herself had created them as refuges for her followers in their times of need. Certainly this one was serving him as such right now.

The fell-wolves didn’t seem to be giving up easily, though. They were sniffing all around the perimeter of the tree, trying to figure out why his trail ended right at its edge. From what he knew of fell-wolves, it might be all day before they gave up and hunted for easier prey. He was kind of surprised to feel a little bit of pity for them. Their ancestors had once been like other wolves, like the ones he had run with, but now they were… twisted. Almonihah wondered what had happened to them. Something to do with Jivenesh, no doubt.

Now, though, what he had to worry about was whether or not he was going to sit here all day waiting for them to go. If he had a bow, he’d be able to convince them to leave fairly quickly from his unassailable position, but his bow was back with the Griffon Tribe. And it wasn’t like there was going to be a bow just lying around here or anything.

Almonihah blinked. Or maybe there would be. Not only a bow, but a quiver, were leaning against one of the arches.

He went over to look at them. The quiver looked rather plain, but when he looked inside, it appeared to contain far more arrows than a quiver of its size should be able to. The bow, on the other hand, was a work of art. Its limbs were intricately carved with images of animals and forests. The one image that was repeated the most frequently was a unicorn rampant, just like the one that hung from his neck—one of the many symbols for Naishia.

Almonihah murmured a quiet thanks to Her as he picked up the bow and nocked an arrow. He slowly pulled back, testing the bow. It had just the right amount of resistance, not so much it was hard to aim, but not so little that he couldn’t apply his full strength to it.

He carefully aimed at one of the fell-wolves. He paused for a moment, unsure of whether or not the arrow would go through or if he’d find the inside of the arches as solid as they seemed to the beasts outside, but then shrugged mentally and decided to loose his arrow anyway.

It flew from the bow with even greater speed than his strength and the pull of the bow could account for. When it struck the fell-wolf, there was a searing flash of light, and the creature collapsed, the fur around the arrow’s fletching singed from whatever magic the bow had imparted to the arrow.

The fell-wolves jumped back from where their fellow had fallen, looking around warily for the source of the threat. Almonihah grunted in satisfaction as he watched them. They still couldn’t see him. He drew another arrow.

****

It’s the origin of Almonihah’s bow! Huzzah!

Sorry I missed a couple weeks. I’ll do better now!

Chapter 15-2

He slowly accelerated his pace, and he could hear and smell and… sense, somehow, the fell-wolves shift to follow him. They were slowly closing their trap, moving to flank and eventually surround him.


There! Some thicker underbrush, the kind that he might be able to shake them in. He suddenly broke into a sprint and dove into the brush. Almonihah didn’t slow, using what he had learned over the past year to weave his way through the dense vegetation. He could tell that the fell-wolves were having trouble keeping up with him, but he couldn’t count on that lasting.


For example, he could run out of the brush into a clearing. He didn’t have to glance back to tell that the beasts weren’t far behind him, so the half-dragon pushed himself to the utmost to cross the clearing before they reached it.


Almonihah just barely made it. Unfortunately, the underbrush wasn’t as thick on the other side, so he doubted he would be able to keep ahead of them for long.


He was quite surprised when he put his hand on a tree to push off of and instead fell into it.

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Another shorter post, but at least I wrote something!

Chapter 15-1

Chapter 15: Line

Almonihah entered the valley of the Lost Sea late in the spring. He saw now, as he had not fully seen before, just how wondrous of a place it was, an untouched wilderness with a bewildering variety of life. He had to remind himself that some of those forms of life might want to eat him as he descended from the mountains into the valley. Just because he appreciated them didn’t mean they couldn’t be deadly.


It was the scent that first warned him of danger. Similar to his wolf friends he had spent last spring with, but somehow subtly wrong. Instantly, Almonihah was on alert, all his senses straining to find the source of danger and a place of safety.


There! A flash of movement, a soft footfall. He was being followed. He drew Zithrandrak and kept walking forward, looking for some kind of shelter in the forest. He was not equipped to fight a pack of fell-wolves. It was odd for such a pack to be here… but the half-dragon didn’t have time to think about why, just how he was going to live.

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Sorry for the lateness and shortness of this post. I’ve been spending the last week or so getting… reacquainted with school. And my friends out here.

I’m not really happy with the title of this chapter, but I couldn’t come up with a better one. Oh, well. That’s why this is a rough draft.