don't steal, that's bad.

this version is the edited version. it should be grammar and spelling approved, cuz i read and reread it and changed it. it has different parts. lemme kno if u like it.

Attacks

Thoughts burned at Wil’s mind. Why did Mother and Father lead me here, then not show up? he thought. His parents, Claire and Damien, had asked him to meet them out in the middle of the forest, a week’s walk from home. He showed up and found a note saying that they had ditched him.
The note, in his father’s handwriting, read:


Dear Wil,
We know your going to be mad, but we’ve decided not to come.
Please come home as soon as possible, for we wish to speak with
you about it. We’re sorry, but I just thought your
mother was up to the walk, I guess I was wrong.
Stay safe, and may the gods watch over you,
Father.


Wil’s mother was already four and a half months pregnant. She’d already had two kids, Wil and his brother, Dãret. They had been the only ones because Wil’s father was a merchant who came and went with the seasons. He worked on their small farm while he was at home, and didn’t get much time inside with his wife.
Wil knew he could make it home, because he had brought his bow and a dagger to kill for meat, and protect himself from any rogues. “Of all the blasted places they could’ve stranded me at in this cursed forest; they had to lead me to Thraën Ryshîkk Viën!” Wil shouted to no one in general. The tree was also known as Witch Stump and The Hanging Tree.
Wil looked at the severed ropes and knew, not far off, several bodies lay rotting. Just the thought made him sick. He emptied the venison he had eaten that morning in the woods. Then he cursed and sat at the base of the tree.
After a few hours, Wil decided to head home. He cursed Thraën Ryshîkk Viën once more, then set out. As he walked, he remembered finding his uncle, Durien, hanging from the tree with his limbs severed and being taken by scavengers. Wil shuddered.
Wil’s uncle had been a mercenary, and the bandits and rogues did not like it, and ambushed him. Their thirst would only be sated by one of two things: gold or blood. After finding he had spent his last three pence drowning the horrible killings he had performed in a deep mug, they bound and dragged him to Thraën Ryshîkk Viën, severed his limbs with his own sword, and left his destroyed body to rot on the tree.
Wil vowed, not for the first, or for that matter, last time that he would avenge his uncle’s death. As he walked, Wil listened for the scurrying of rabbits and deer heading to their beds for the night. He pulled a strip of jerky out of his pack and thought, instinctively chewing the jerky. By the time he stopped, the moon was well past midway across the sky. Wil shuddered as he heard the high-pitched squeal of a field mouse being involuntarily picked for master owl’s dinner.
As Wil set out the next morn, he found the trek he had made the night before had sapped his energy to the point that he would gratefully stay there half the day just to catch up on sleep. Wil pressed on though, infuriated by his parent’s ruse. He thought about the massive city that the village that held his father’s small farm sat outside. Krâdden, I remember meeting the emperor, Dhrâkmâd there, eerily beautiful is all I can say about him. Wil thought.
Dhrâkmâd was a tyrant at his worst, yet a pure and good emperor at his best. He was a giant dragon. His scales held a pure emerald luster, sometimes darkened by waves of fury at hearing that Bââlden, a rebellious group, that supported itself by preaching like missionaries from the church, had gained followers.
Wil knew a dark secret of the emperors, one that could get him killed if the wrong people found out. I’d better not think about it, who knows what magicians could be rummaging through my mind right now. Wil thought. Spellcasters, Wil knew, could search someone’s mind if they knew enough about magic and the mind to slip past a weaker person’s barriers.
As Wil neared home, his fury increased as if someone had given him all the gold in all of Dìrekrien, then let him watch as it all turned to charcoal. He walked the short path up to the house his father had built with nothing but bare hands for Wil’s mother. He was about to enter when his brother, Dãret, threw open the door and said, “Mom wants to see you in the kitchen, but not before you relieve yourself of your pack, bow, and boots.” Wil knew he was just the messenger, yet struggled to stay his hand from hitting his brother.
Dãret led Wil to his room and waited outside as Wil changed out of mud stained breeches and tunic. Then they went to the kitchen, where he had Wil wait. Wil heard soft mutterings as he waited outside the kitchen. When Dãret came back out, he gestured Wil to enter. Wil stormed past his little brother, knocking him aside as he would a fly.
What Wil found when he entered the room was what he least expected. His mother was sitting at the table, looking sorry for the act she and his father had pulled. “I know it’s not supposed to be your place to answer for this, but I want to know, why?” he asked.
“We did it because—” his father had stepped from the shadows, but his words were lost in a deafening roar as maybe five and twenty people flowed into the room with a roasted boar, a cake, and a sudden cry of surprise resonated from most of the party. Emotions flooded Wil and before he could stop himself, he was singing and dancing and being merry, completely forgetting his anger for the night.
This continued long into the night. While the people, after the party, dispersed to their respected homes, Wil sat on a bale of hay, thinking. After a while, a girl, only thirteen like Wil, appeared out of the black night and sat by him. “Greetings milady.” he said, not wishing to be rude, especially since her father, Ahkmad, was the most respected lieutenant in Dhrâkmâd’s army.
Wil loved the man like a second father. He had always been interested in the military, especially when he was talking strategy with the man he knew as Kaera’s father. Sometimes they had mock strategy battles, in which they’d set up figures on a bare strip of land or a small board. They would take turns moving pieces and taking those that got too close, using archers and swordsmen and such. Twice, when Wil was lucky, he had beaten the lieutenant. But mostly, the man was too good a strategist to beat. Yet, every time after being beaten, Ahkmad would say something like, “You will make a fine man of the army, even rivaling me as a commander at some point.”
The young woman was named Kaera. “Hello Wil. I was wondering if you had heard, Father is facing those rebels again and mother’s in a frenzy about it. She doesn’t like him venturing further than Krâdden, let alone Durash or Arain, and I was getting tired of hearing about it, so may I stay here with you for a little while?” she asked, sounding stressed.
“Sure, I’d love some company.” Wil replied. He laid back and folded his hands behind his head. She lay beside him, her hair splaying across his arm.
Kaera was blessed with a slim figure, radiant brown hair, and perfect blue eyes. Her face was fairer than most of the queens even. That night, while she lay there with him, the moon made the waves of hair shine more vibrantly than ever, and her face was the very essence of beauty. Kaera and Wil had been friends since the day their mothers had met in the village common some ten years back. That night, Wil wished to push the relationship further.
Wil leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. He’d longed for this for a few years. He really liked Kaera, occasionally as a sister, oftentimes as his father loved his mother, without the outward expression. He was so close he could feel her chest move, in and out, in and out, as she breathed. Her soft, smooth, tanned skin shown brilliantly in the pale light of the moon. His face was inches from hers. It was going to be the perfect kiss. Wil anticipated every second that passed. Suddenly, it was all wrenched away as an alarm bell spread throughout the village.
The mood shattered, Wil reluctantly sat up, curiosity quickly filling the hole where burning passion had been an instant before. Wil stood up and said “I’m sorry Kaera, but if the village is in trouble, and your father’s away, I’m the only hope of this village. Please, wait for me here, if I do not return before midday, do not wait. Expect the worst and run as fast as you can to Krâdden and alert Dhrâkmâd himself. There is a secret tunnel outside the castle that leads right to his main chambers. He knows of it, but doesn’t barricade it in case of emergencies like this.” Wil rushed into the house, strapped his longsword to his waist, which he had gotten for a birthday, and grabbed his bow, and rushed to the town common.
As he reached the outer houses, Wil heard shouts of “Bandits! Rogues! Please, we need the entire village’s help!” coming from Ahkmad’s neighbor, Thrak. Wil unsheathed his sword, ready to fight. He saw one bandit, then the whole horde.
“To me! If you wish to keep your homes from being ash, come to me!” he shouted. A knot of ten or fifteen villagers crowded around him, including Thrak.
“A good strong lad is all we needed, now we’re dead for sure!” Zebvar said sarcastically. Zebvar had never liked Wil anyway, and found any way to criticize the boy.
Wil swung, his blade coming a hair’s breadth from slicing Zebvar’s throat. “You fool! You wish to criticize one of your allies at this time? I truly believe your statement if you are that blind.” At this, Zebvar’s face turned a deep red. From embarrassment or fury, Wil knew not. Wil sprinted, closing the gap between himself and the bandits. He quickly stuck one in the gut, sliced off his sword arm, stabbed him through the heart, and wrenched the small shield off the dead man’s limp left arm.
After properly equipping himself, Wil fought another, parrying a fatal blow and then cutting clean through the man’s leg. He screamed, but for only a second, as the stab to the throat from Wil’s concealed dagger dropped the man. Wil put his dagger back, then picked up the bandit’s obsidian sword and fought with a series of fatal double sword strikes to many men.
Once, he nearly decapitated one of the villagers, who cursed at him and cleaved a bandit’s skull with a hammer. Then the villager was struck in the chest with an arrow. Wil saw the bowman. He let out a savage roar and threw the obsidian bandit sword. His aim was true, and the sword rushed through the bandit’s chest. Wil’s arms were starting to feel heavier. After a while more, he could barely lift his sword. Yet the bandits kept coming. Suddenly, Wil‘s back was racked with pain, as rogue had slipped behind him and taken him out. Leaving him for dead, the rogue let out a hideous cackle and jumped on another villager.
Wil struggled to his knees, barely able to think. He tried to focus on the bandit that had split his back. Wil found it too hard to concentrate, and dropped to the ground. The bandit, after killing the villager he’d pounced on, turned and walked slowly toward Wil. “So, you persist to fight even when severely injured eh? Impressive, but you still have much to learn. You’ll be coming with me, and I’ll teach you all there is to know about magic, but for a price.” and with that, the bandit clapped his hands together and all his allies died in an instant, blood-red flash. Fatally wounded and dead villagers were brought back from the reaches of the afterlife. Afterward, the bandit threw Wil over his shoulder and, too weak to fight, Wil succumbed to the darkness that surrounded him as he felt his back healed. A great weariness came over him, and he slept.

It's really good but...
it's spelt rogue not rouge
and it might have been netter if he'd said something like...
"Impressive, but there is much you must learn."
Black out, you do not want a to powerful character too early on
word fighting is great but when your wounded enough to be left for dead yo.d slip into unconsciousness pretty quickly
apart from that it's pefect

this one is sorry, his computer did not tell him whether it was rouge or rogue. he should've known better. and this one will change Wil's ability to stay concious, for now he sees your wisdom. thank you for correcting these mistakes and this one asks; what do you think of Wil's affection with Kaera? is it too much too early on? this one just wishes to know from people who know books better than himself

-i am but a mere ruroni. my blade is sworn to protect innocents- -kenshin-

Actually i thought it was a good idea them being so close but not proving it yet.
I don't know but it doesn't look like they'll be seeing each other for a while and you need a strong love to keep going when you think your lover is dead.

I don't know books better than you i just occasionally have good ideas

the 'this one' stuff got old, so i'm gonna talk normal

the second chapter tells of Kaera's adventure after Wil leaves her.

second chapter:

Dhrakmad

Kaera almost panicked. Earlier she had heard Wil’s faint cry of, “To me!” but had heard nothing but the clash of battle since. The sun was close to rising. Suddenly, she heard a blood curdling scream, that sounded like it came from a young man. She was worried. Then she saw a blinding, blood red light resonate through the village. Mages, those blasted bandits have hired mages. she thought, knowing Wil’s swordplay would be no match for magic. After that, there was nothing but silence.
Kaera immediately set out for the city. She’d set out at a dead sprint. She knew the way well, for she’d traveled it many times with her father, just to spend time with him. Now, more than she’d ever wanted for anything, Kaera wished she’d saddled up a horse in preparation, just in case. She slowed to a hurried walk to save her feet from blistering.
When she got to the city, Kaera found that the passage was where Wil had said it would be. More like a hole than a passage. she thought. She crawled through the rusting hole and, sure enough, found herself inside the dragon’s private chambers, though not where she nor Wil would’ve expected. She was sitting inside a cage in the chamber. Dhrâkmâd was sitting on what looked like a pillow of sorts, his shining emerald scales contrasted very nicely with the crimson red seat. He looked at Kaera lazily, as if toying with the thought of eating her.
“What do you want, child? I‘m busy, and not hungry at the moment.” Kaera was more scared than she’d ever imagined being.
“P-please sir, my v-village has been a-attacked by bandits, whether any s-survive, I know not, for I-I was told to come d-directly here by the b-bravest person I know s-short of my f-father.” she stuttered.
“Wait a second, your Ahkmad’s daughter, are you not? I thought I recognized your fair face. Tell me, who was this friend of yours, the one who told you of my secret passage?” he said, showing a small amount of interest.
“H-his name is Wil, your majesty, and he and I were sitting together this previous night when the alarms went off and he hurriedly told me of the passage. Last I saw of him, he was sprinting toward the village common with his longsword and bow.”
“That is unfortunate. This Wil of yours, is he of sandy blonde hair and shining blue eyes?”
The question caught Kaera off guard. “Yes, your majesty, he is. I heard he met with you to discuss his part in his uncle’s will, which was inheriting all the land his uncle had owned.”
“Yes, tragic mishap with the bandits, no doubt the same bandits that attacked your village. I do hope Wil was not slaughtered, like his uncle. A fine lad, Wil, much like your father, though they come from parts far from each other.”
“Sir, if I may, Wil has always been friendly with my father. He’s been interested in the military for a long time, and knew…knows that my father is the best source to learn to be great.” Kaera said, not knowing where she was going with it.
“Really? Wil would make a perfect addition to my army. You know, he’s probably good enough even to join my ranks as a sergeant in the magicians forces.”
“Wow, so, if I may ask, sir, what are you planning to do about the attack?” she asked, astonished at first at Dhrâkmâd’s choice of telling her of Wil’s possible spot of the military.
“I will tell you, my dear girl, that I am planning on sending a number of supplies to the villagers, or those that are left, at least. You, meanwhile, will stay here and be a royal unwed queen of the castle, free to do what you will.”
“I know your offer is of the greatest gratitude, my liege, but I’m afraid I must decline so I can be back home to tend to my village, but I promise you this, if I am the only one left alive, I will take your offer and become a queen.” Kaera said respectfully. She was preparing to come back mentally.
At this, the dragon made a growling sound, deep within his throat. Kaera took this as laughing, as if her decline of power was some jest. “Milady, I accept your terms. Though I’d rather have such a beautiful maiden as you in my courts and finest human’s clothing, made of the finest materials possible, you are free to do what you will, so long as it pertains to the law.” And with that, he curled up and fell asleep. Kaera to made her way out of the hole and through the courtyard to the gates.
As soon as she left, a figure appeared out of the shadows. “Wasss ssshe with the boy?” the figure queried.
“Yes, and he will not be bothering us anytime soon, for Cedric has him, and help him reach the potential he needs to reach.” Dhrâkmâd said, still unsure of the man’s intentions.
“Good, good. The processssss is almossst complete, when it is finissssshed, we will rule as one, and the only boy who can stop us will be dead!” the figure cackled. He left so quickly that Dhrâkmâd was unsure of if he’d even appeared.



-look for part 3 later-

i think it was pretty good,but he might want to work a bit on some of the spelling and grammar

was it in the first part or the second part? lemme know cuz i gotta change this stuff to make it a good book

All in to what i noticed is the rogue spelling and that other thing you didnt like,mostly just agreeing

Third part's longer than the first, and it's different from eragon, with all the magic and rules and stuff, but i hope it passes... my rules of magic come in later as a suspenseful thing, not gonna mention it here tho.

again, please dont steal any of this.

Assassins

Wil awoke to a sore back and a clouded head. He was in the middle of some sort of camp. He rose from the bed, which looked to have been set up recently and walked out of the tent. The first thing that hit him was the vile smell. The camp was just an average bandit camp, staked on the outskirts of who knows which village in the entirety of Dìrekrien. Then Wil saw the bandit whom he had involuntarily come with. The bandit was tall, with flaming red hair and a fiery look in his pale green eyes.
Wil walked over to him. “Welcome, Wil, you’ve been sleep for about four days now. I thought you’d never wake up!” he said with a great, booming laugh. “I never introduced myself, did I? My name is Cedric. I know you think I’m some sort of magical savage, but truly, I needed you, and that’s my reason for feigning an attack on your village.” he explained.
Why me? Wil questioned silently. As if reading Wil’s thoughts, Cedric said, “You’re the only one who can keep us all alive. If that’s so, I must teach you magic and swordplay, though you are efficient with the latter, as I have seen from the battle that took place a few days ago.” Wil was still somewhat confused. Cedric sighed.
“Let me show you.” Cedric lazily flicked his hand. A small sphere of water, the size of maybe an acorn, rose from the ground itself, and he dropped his hand an instant later and it splashed to the ground. “As you can see, that took little of my energy. Magic consumes the energy already used for the task, though using little of your own life force. Most of the energy used for the task comes from either your surroundings or the people your mind registers as enemies. As does all magic, and if you use a spell too strong, it will feel like you are being ripped apart, due to a certain law of strengths and weaknesses. When it’s done with you, you will become but a shell for evil spirits and such to possess you. Also, when your energy is consumed, your shell follows the true rules of magic.”
Wil burst out laughing. “You expect me to believe that I’d be able to kill a man without raising barely my little finger? What a load!” Cedric just looked somberly at Wil.
“Believe what you want, but I know you’re destined for greatness.” Wil finished laughing and started helping Cedric with the chores, getting water, finding food, among other things.
This continued for days, weeks, months even. One day, many months after he brought Wil to the camp, Cedric said, “It’s time for you to try magic for the first time.” and took Wil to a river whose bed was that of rock. The shores on each side were strewn with loose gravel. “Now, I want you to lift a small sliver of water from the river, like this,” Cedric lifted a small strip of the rushing water and then, keeping it suspended, threw a pebble straight up. With a lazy flick of his wrist, Broul sent the pebble flying with the jet of water.
“By the~” Wil started. He couldn’t believe it. “So how can you do that?” Wil asked, astonished.
“It’s simple. Just imagine the objects that you’re trying to manipulate doing what you want them to.” Wil focused on the river, imagining a rivulet hovering in the air. He raised his trembling hand, and with it, the water, just as he’d imagined. He shook, but with excitement or anxiety, he knew not.
Wil lifted a pebble with his free hand. He started thinking, with the pebble in his hand. As he was focusing on the water he held, Wil split his concentration to attempt lifting the rock as well. He hadn’t gotten the rock an inch off his hand when he felt it driven back down, hard, into his palm. He lost all concentration and the water fell to the ground not far from Wil’s boots with a splash.
“No! You’re not supposed to be splitting your concentration! That is a lesson for later times, right now, concentrate only on the water.” Cedric almost screamed. Wil hadn’t seen him this mad ever, probably because he’d never gotten used to Cedric enough to toy with him.
Wil did the water just like he’d done earlier, and when he picked up the rock this time, he just flicked it into the air and whipped it with the water, sending it flying. Cedric had him do this numerous times before moving on to harder things, such as halting the river, a section at a time, to let Cedric and then himself cross to the other side dry. Twice he nearly dropped the raging water on Cedric’s head, and once his barrier collapsed and Cedric had to fish him out of the cold water.
After about four months of this, Cedric finally called Wil to his tent in the camp. Wil wasn’t sure he’d like what he saw, but knew something was up. Wil had learned the ability of concealing his presence to other magic users, a skill he excelled at, among other arcane skills that helped conceal his presence and attack as an assassin would. He hoped he’d find the reason for being taught these skills.
When he got to the tent, the first thing Wil noticed was that it was different from the rest, with an air of mysterious security around it. Wil walked up to the flap and immediately jumped back as white hot flames jumped at him. He cursed himself for not checking the spaces outside the flaps. He quickly scanned the whole area for traps, finding a few and disabling them. He quickly rushed inside, hoping to catch the man off guard with some quick, non lethal jabs. He failed, annoyed. “What did you need, sir?” he asked Cedric.
“I have assignments from across Dìrekrien for you, concerning your new skills. The Brothers of Bââlden are gathering at various places, and you’re to report to me through magic what you see and hear. You need to keep silent and still at every meeting you see, for they will not spare you for being a mere child, and their magicians are among the best, aside from Dhrâkmâd’s magician’s corps. You will not be engaging even the lowliest of their warriors, for even they are stronger than you at this moment. For starters, I’ve decided to send you back to your village to catch a meeting to be held in the barn of the house beside yours.” Cedric said.
At first, Wil was enraged. Espionage? He wants me to sneak around like scum? he thought angrily. Then he said, to the comment about the barn, and with a sour taste in his mouth, “Zebvar. That scum. He’ll die before he lays his hands on my village with those blood betrayers. I heard the Brothers were Dhrâkmâd’s favorite men, until he stopped liking them so much for the new reign of peace that came of the downfall of Indios. They then split off from the army to create their own rebellion, right?”
“Yes, and I’ll explain that after you get back from your village.” Cedric said hurriedly. It seemed he wouldn’t let Wil get two words in as he was hurriedly ushered out of the tent and to the edge of the camp. “Now, when you get to the fork in the road, take the middle passage. It will lead directly to your village, and if you run into trouble, you know the various ways to deal with it. Whether they be good or bad, it doesn’t matter, because the trouble you’ll run into is true bandits or wolves. There’s been a vampire sighting around here, but you know the bane of vampires, right?” Cedric asked.
“Yes, I know to draw a stake from a nearby tree and drive it straight through him. Though I realize those kinds of men and women are adept enough to cut through or dodge a stake with swords. You had me read all this once.” Wil reiterated from the scrolls he’d read.
Then Wil set out. He knew from the maps he’d seen that Krâdden and his village weren’t far from where they were, but still a good week’s walk, like the forest. After five days of uninteresting traveling, he noticed some commotion some ways in the distance. He used a spell to make himself invisible to enemies and allies alike, and crept up to the area.
What Wil saw didn’t surprise him. A bandits camp was what came up before him, but he did notice one thing out of proportion. A vampire, tall as a baby ogre and slim as a strong oak sapling was standing there, holding a bandit by his shoulders. The vampire had his head near the bandit’s throat. Wil knew he was feasting on the man as the color drained out of the face. The vampire dropped the bloodless shell, then looked around, as if unsated by the man’s whole body of blood. “Who here can give me pure blood? You mongrels are of half blood, and no amount of you will slake my thirst!” the vampire almost shouted. His screechy voice was like daggers being thrust into Wil’s ears.
Wil crept closer to the camp, putting barriers and silencing spells on himself. He pulled out a shining obsidian dagger that Cedric had given him. Intending to take the bandits out first, Wil crept up behind one. Suddenly, as if pulled to him by sheer sense of what’s wrong, the vampire reached out and grabbed Wil’s tunic, lifting him from behind. “What’s this?” the vampire asked no one. He lifted Wil to eye level, his cold dark red eyes piercing into Wil’s soul. “What, brat, are you doing here?” he asked coldly.
“I was just passing by, and heard a commotion, and came to check it out.” Wil lied, though with a little bit of truth to it. He was still invisible to everyone but the vampire.
“Why then, did you conceal yourself?” Wil could tell the vampire could see through the lie.
“I did not know if it was a respected…thing, such as yourself causing the commotion. I was just planning, of course not knowing that vampires could see through deceit. I am sorry sir, and I overheard you speaking to these men of mixed blood, and I am no better, so please sir, let me go, let me get back to my family, like I intended.” Wil said, trying to convince the vampire of the lie.
The vampire bought it, just enough to let Wil go, then said to him, “If I find you in this area ever again, child, I shall not hesitate, if your blood be mud, I do not care. I shall drain you of all life force if I find you again.” the vampire threatened.
Wil knew the perfect time to strike. He slowly, magically pulled a stake out of the tree behind the vampire, barely moving his hand. Wil had gotten the stake completely out of the tree. He pulled it as fast as he could toward his own head, which would go directly through the vampire’s heart before it hit him, giving him time to dodge. With inhuman speed, the vampire twisted out of the path of the stake. As soon as it got to where the vampire’s heart was right below it, he thrust the wood down, pulling the stake through the heart as perfectly as he could’ve. Before the vampire died, he whispered, “Vaam will not tolerate this, you…ah!” and he dissipated with a series of inaudible curses.
The bandits were astonished at finding their leader killed by a voice and a wooden spear tip. The next thing they knew, their entire ranks were having their throats cut open by nothing. They swung uselessly at the air as Wil dipped and dodged around the surprisingly slow blades and cut jugulars left and right. When Wil had killed all save one, he let the invisibility drop and the bandit finally saw the culprit.
“Your just a kid, maybe thirteen years old, your stupid not to stay invisible.” the man‘s big, rippled arms were poked through two holes, each with splits running halfway down the undersized tunic. The sleeves had been torn off.
“I’m your worst nightmare.” Wil said with a thin smile. Then he drew his sword and let out a bloodlust roar. He jumped at the bandit and parried a blow to the head. He swerved around to the bandit’s exposed back. Wil pulled out the small dagger and stabbed the man right where his heart was. The bandit’s lifeless corpse crumpled to the ground.
Wil was thirsting for more slaughter, strangely. He felt eccentric, as if battle had changed his being. He was scared of the feeling, and quickly dismissed it. He looked around, noting the number of corpses that lay there, including the vampire that disappeared. “Thirty I have killed, who else will fall before these adventures are over?” he asked aloud. He did not know the answer, and pondered the reasoning behind Cedric’s rushing him off. Wil pulled out the dagger, leaned against a tree, and just looked the dagger over.
After a while, Wil had a thought. He placed the dagger down on a stone. He focused all his energy on the dagger. The flat of the dagger was etched magically with the word Uarak, which meant silent killer. Wil fell back to leaning against the tree, happy with his work.

That is really cool.
The blood-lust thing seems alot like Sloane and I.
The romance was intoxicating-please add more!

i've actually changed it a bit since then and i think the romance is even better but i'll hafta check it when i get a chance. I'll try to post more. I've got a model of the land of Direkrien set out and I'll see if i can possibly upload that on here. I've also been working on a prolouge to explain the history and stuff. If you can't tell, I love romance and battle scenes.

My two favorite subjects=love and war!
Your really cool for a guy
{you are a guy right?}

yeah. i'm a guy. thanks for the compliment. this site is awesome cuz you can let your imagination go. no strings. you can write whatever your heart feels. i love it.

Kay just checking!
-i'm a girl-but you probably knew that already!
This is an awesome site and i like it better when people like you check what you post!

Sorry needed to vent!

i've completely changed it. i deleted almost all that i wrote from my flash drive and now i've got a better idea. i'll actually post what i've got right here, right now. oh yeah, kaera's not in it anymore. she's been replaced by a girl named Lucia. check the character bios for what she's like. well, here goes:


Loss

Thoughts burned at Wil’s mind. Where are Mother and Father? They said they would be here on my return home… he thought. His parents, Claire and Damien, had asked him to meet them out in the middle of the forest as soon as he got near the village after hunting. He’d gone hunting out near Wolf’s Peak, an outcrop of rock where wolves were known to tread. The place was a good spot to find deer and other game animals. It was two days’ walk from Sylhomia, the village where Wil lived.
There was a note in his father’s handwriting pinned to a tree with a dagger. It read:


Dear Wil,
Trouble at the village. Had to return home to check it out. The sirens were blaring loudly. Your mother and I know how disappointed you must feel, but I have a duty as a citizen. We’re sorry, stay safe, and may the gods watch over you,
Father.


Wil’s mother was already four and a half months pregnant. She’d already had two kids, Wil and his brother, Dãret. They had been the only ones because Wil’s father was a famed merchant who came and went with the seasons. He traded with the kings of the human world, and was one of Dìrekrien’s best-known vendors of fine wares. He worked on his small farm while he was at home, and didn’t get much time inside with his wife.
Wil shivered. The cold, dry winter air whipped against his face. knew he could make it home, because he had brought his bow and a dagger. He knew he had to protect himself from any rogues. He looked up. He was standing under a famous tree, Thraën Ryshîkk Viën. The tree was also known as Witch Stump and The Hanging Tree.
Wil looked at the severed ropes and knew, not far off, several bodies lay. Thinking about the frozen, half-rotted corpses made Wil shiver. He couldn’t believe people were hanged for others merely believing in sorcery. He cursed the superstitious and sat at the base of the tree.
After a few hours, when he felt his fingers start to freeze, Wil decided to head home. He cursed Thraën Ryshîkk Viën once more, then set out. As he walked, he remembered finding his uncle, Durien, hanging from the tree with his limbs severed and being taken by scavengers. Wil shuddered.
Wil’s uncle had been a mercenary, and the bandits, rogues, and demon-spawn did not like it, so they ambushed him. One of two things would sate their thirst: gold or blood. After finding he had spent his last gold coin drowning the horrible, haunting feeling of death in a deep mug, they bound and dragged him to Thraën Ryshîkk Viën, severed his limbs with his own sword, and left his destroyed body to rot on the tree.
Wil vowed, not for the first, or for that matter, last time that he would avenge his uncle’s death. As he walked, Wil listened for the scurrying of rabbits and deer heading to their beds for the night. He pulled a strip of jerky out of his pack and stared into the sky. The stars shined brightly. He chewed on the jerky mindlessly. By the time he stopped for the night, the moon was well across the sky. Wil shuddered as he heard the high-pitched squeal of a field mouse being involuntarily picked for master owl’s dinner.
As Wil set out the next morn, he found the trek he had made the night before had sapped his energy to the point that he would gratefully stay there half the day just to catch up on sleep. Wil pressed on though, worried about the village. He thought about the massive city, which was only a day’s walk from his father’s farm. Krâdden, Crown Jewel of Orbaion. I remember meeting the emperor, Dhrâkmâd, there. Wil thought.
Dhrâkmâd was a tyrant at his worst, yet a pure and good emperor at his best. He was a giant dragon. His scales held a pure cyan luster, sometimes darkened by waves of fury at hearing that Bââlden, a rebellious group that supported itself by preaching like missionaries from the church, had gained followers.
Wil knew a dark secret of the emperor, one that could get him killed if the wrong people found out. I’d better not think about it, who knows what sorcerers could be rummaging through my mind right now. Wil thought. Spellcasters, Wil knew, could search someone’s mind if they knew enough about magic of the mind to slip past a weaker person’s protective barriers.
Wil was nearing home. One more hill, then I’ll see the dear little village I call home, Sylhomia. He thought. He was anxious to sleep in a bed again. As the sun was setting on the cold night, Wil reached the peak of the hill. He looked out over the hill, hoping to see his village bustling with last-minute activity before twilight.
Wil’s jaw dropped. As he looked over the hill, he saw half the village in ruins. The farms outside the village were still burning to the north. Wil’s mind immediately turned to his home. B-but my father’s farm is on the north side of the village! He thought. He panicked. He ran through the village, searching for anyone who was alive. He found a recognizable street and turned north, toward home. He ran through the village, shouting out names. Suddenly, he saw a younger boy lying face down. Wil’s blood ran cold.
He fell to the ground, his head throbbing. He blacked out.

One boy was standing in the middle of five or six bandits. The boy had his fists raised, ready to fight. A bandit raised his sword. Wil tried to shout to the boy, to get him out of the way, but couldn’t move. A shadow appeared by his side. “You want to save the boy, yes? Well, you can’t! He was doomed from the start!” Wil’s body filled with rage. He saw the bandit lunge toward the boy. Wil broke whatever sealed his body to its spot. He ran toward the bandit and pulled on his arm. The bandit’s sword still went through the boy’s body, but it was lower and not fatal. Wil sighed with relief, then blacked out again.

Wil woke up. He was lying face down on the cold ground. He knew that short, brown hair. He knew those strong, farm boy’s arms. “Dãret!” he shouted. The boy weakly lifted his head, then it fell again. Wil ran to the boy and rolled him over to find, to his horror, that Dãret had been pierced through the stomach with a blade. Wil noticed the blade pierced exactly where he’d seen in his vision. “Dãret, what happened? Why is the village in ruins? Where are Mother and Father?” Wil asked, the panic consuming him.
“M-mother and Father came h-home. Th-they said that they heard the alarm bell ringing. They headed up the hill toward our house. I was here, in the village p-playing with Saran and Rin when the-” Dãret paused to cough up blood. “The bandits showed up. One was our neighbor, Zeb, and he stabbed me. Then they headed that way.” He finished, pointing to where Wil had come from.
“Dãret, will you be okay? Are you in much pain?” Wil asked.
“N-no, I’ve just been coughing up a little bit of blood. I don’t think that this will kill me. Find Mother and Father and make sure they’re okay.” He said, his eyes showing the concern he was trying to hide.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they live. I’ve just got to go get a weapon, just in case the bandits are still around.” Wil said, looking back toward the smithy that he’d passed on the way here.
“Wait! I think I heard the bandits say something about a bunch of brothers or something. I couldn’t look up because I was pretending to be dead but there were a few of them fighting with some others. They could be friends with a bunch of mean, strong men, so be careful okay?” Dãret said.
Wil nodded and ran back to the smithy, wary of any sounds on the way. He ran into no trouble getting there. It was a cold trip. He stepped over the broken door and walked in. There was nothing on the walls, not even any tools. He slammed his fist on the anvil, quickly regretting it. “Damn…” he muttered, rubbing his sore hand. He tried to think of any other place he could get a weapon. Suddenly he remembered a place he could go. He hopped the door and rushed toward the house. The village leader. He’ll have the sword we send to the castle every year. Wil thought as he ran. He started seeing more and more burned buildings in the moonlight as he ran. He got worried. He arrived at the house, relieved to see that it was still standing.
Wil walked in the front door and immediately hid against the wall. Around the corner, bandits were talking. Wil could hear every word.
“Heh heh, we sure made a killing by raiding this village today. We got food, gold, and a place to sleep. Maybe tomorrow we should burn the rest of the village for the hell of it?” one said.
“No, we have to get back to the encampment before midday tomorrow. The Master will personally be waiting for us to report.” Another said, apparently the leader of the group.
Wil crept back out of the house quietly thought of another way in. He ran to the side of the house and saw it. A great tree had grown right up beside the house. Wil climbed it, slipping into a second-story window. He found himself in the room he was looking for, the Elder’s room. He rummaged around, looking for a special latch into a chamber that held a sacred sword.
Every year, the leader of the village, who was known as the Elder, would have the blacksmith create a special sword to be offered to Emperor Dhrâkmâd as a tribute. After it was created, the sword would be passed to the people to be blessed by the gods. There was a strange thing that happened every year during the blessing of the sword. It was suspended above an open well. When the people were done praying, a lightning bolt from the clear skies would strike the sword, making it glow with the purity of the gods. The Elder would then hide it in a special place so no travelers or greedy villagers would steal it.
Wil found the latch on the wood floor and pulled it. A board creaked up, revealing the sheath of the sword. Wil pulled it out and looked at the hilt of the sword. It was made of solid gold and embedded with emeralds and sapphires. It was the most elegant sword Wil had ever seen. He was almost afraid to use it.
He quietly prayed to the gods. Great gods of Dìrekrien, please let me pull this sword from its sheath and strike down the evil plaguing my village! He pulled the blade out. It made a soft ringing sound as it came out of the sheath. The blade was made of pure steel, but was light as a feather. Wil put it back in and tied the sheath to his belt. He then crept out of the room and toward the stairs. He saw the body of the Elder lying sprawled at the stairs. He turned pale at the sight. He had to force himself to keep calm. He heard the voices again as he neared the bottom of the stairs.
“Good thing we got rid of that military guy before he knew we were here, huh? That was some fine work, Zebvar.” The one from before said.
“Thanks, I do enjoy the assassination jobs.” Zebvar said. Wil’s body shook with rage. T-they killed Ahkmad? That…monster killed him? He thought. He stepped around the corner. The bandits looked at him, surprised to see an intruder.
“You bastards. You killed Ahkmad and you’re going to pay.” Wil said. He let his rage take over. Suddenly, his eyes turned pure black and he drew the sword. He couldn’t even feel himself striking the bandits down. When he came to, he was standing over the bandits’ bodies, the sword glowing with power. It was still clean through Zebvar’s gut. Wil looked at Zebvar, who started laughing. Wil kicked him off the blade into a corner. The last thing he remembered was the rage engulfing him. What happened? He asked himself. He heard muffled whimpering. He looked toward where it was coming from. He saw a girl sitting there, tied up. He recognized her immediately. “Lucia!” he breathed. She was Wil’s best friend, and had been for years. He removed the gag strip from her mouth. “What happened?” He asked, untying her hands and feet.
Lucia had apparently been crying. “They raided the village. They took my father and slit his throat in front of me. Then they took me and tied me up. I was sitting here, so scared. They were going to do things to me, they explained it all so clearly, it scared me, Wil. It truly scared me.” She said, crying some more.
Wil held her in his arms, trying to calm her down. “It’s okay, you are alright now. Do you know what happened to my parents? My little brother said that they went back up to my house.” Wil said.
“They did, and then I heard the bandits say something about the farm on the hill, your farm, Wil. A few went up there to check it out. They left at sundown and haven’t been back since. I don’t know what happened but their either hurt or dead, and your parents haven’t been seen yet either.” She explained.
Wil stood up. “It’s gonna be okay, Lucia. I’m going to save my parents, then we’re gonna find a way to get your father-our father-back.” Wil said. He walked out of the house, turned, and sprinted towards his house. He got there in time to see his house fall to the ground in flames.
After a while Lucia appeared out of the black night and sat by him. “Greetings milady.” he said. His soul was full of grief and confusion, but he knew better than to be rude to the girl that was Lt. Ahkmad’s daughter.
Wil loved the man like a second father. He had always been interested in the military, especially when he was talking strategy with the man. Sometimes they had mock strategy battles, in which they’d set up figures on a bare strip of land or a small board. They would take turns moving pieces and taking those that got too close, using archers, swordsmen, and such. Twice, when Wil was lucky, he had beaten the lieutenant. Nevertheless, the man was too good a strategist. Yet, both times after being beaten, Ahkmad would say something like, “You will make a fine man of the army, even rivaling me as a commander.”
“Hello Wil. I’m so sorry. I know you loved my father as much as I did, but,” she said, sounding exhausted.
“I know,” Wil replied. He laid back and folded his hands behind his head. She lay beside him, her hair splaying across his arm.
Lucia was blessed with a slim figure, silvery blonde hair, and perfect green eyes. Her face was as fair as an elf’s. That night, while she lay there with him, the moon made the waves of hair shine more vibrantly than ever, and her face was the very essence of beauty. Lucia and Wil had been friends since the day their mothers had met in the village common about eleven years back. That night, Wil had a longing for something more.
Wil leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. He’d longed for this for years. He really liked Lucia. He was so close he could feel her chest move, in and out, in and out, as she breathed. Her soft, smooth skin shown brilliantly in the pale light of the moon. His face was inches from hers. It was going to be the perfect kiss. Wil anticipated every second that passed. Their lips met for a ghost of a second. Then Wil felt Lucia dragged away from him.
The mood shattered, Wil reluctantly sat up, curiosity, anger, and other such emotions quickly filling the hole where burning passion had been an instant before.