Instead of the blogs I’ve done in the past few weeks, I thought I would add in a little excerpt from that novel I’ve been working on for so long. It doesn’t need much introduction: Sabrah, the main perspective here, has just fallen onto some rubble of a bell tower he all but destroyed.
As he rose, Sabrah placed his hand on the side of the bell for support and felt a carving under his hand. He could barely make it out in the gem’s light, but it looked familiar. It had seven horizontal lines of tapering lengths parallel to each other with a circle, triangle, and square next to them. He drew his hand away and noticed it was covered in dirt, like the rest of him, and he took his cloak off to shake it. He curled his lip as he held the cloak at arms length, trying not to get anymore dirt on himself.
“What are you doing in here?”
Sabrah froze, his cloak held aloft, and looked toward the doorway turned gaping hole in the wall. The young man that had come to look at the bell was standing there.
“Who are you?”
Sabrah tucked his cloak under his arm and began to climb over the debris toward the door. The young man stepped back warily, allowing Sabrah to see his face in the torchlight, and the jewel hanging from around his neck. Sabrah paused, then stood straight up. He swept his hair out of his face and gave the young man a toothy grin.
“Sorry. I became curious and came in here to get a closer look. Some more of the wood came down and I slipped and fell in the dust here.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be in here. You could be hurt.” The young man hesitated a moment. “You’re not from this town, are you?”
“I’m traveling.” Sabrah pointed toward the west. “I came through the mountains and this is the first town I’ve come across.”
He edged closer to the young man, trying to make himself look unsure of his footing. When he reached the crumbled doorway, he saw that the square had emptied. He and the young man were alone outside. He forced a sigh of satisfaction and brushed himself off more before standing upright in front of the young man.
He pointed at the young man’s talisman.
“Is that a family heirloom?”
When the young man looked down at his talisman, Sabrah grabbed a stone from the wall and brought it down on the side of the young man’s head, knocking him to the ground. Sabrah tossed the stone aside as he threw his cloak back on, his smile fading as he donned the hood. He crouched down to look at the jewel, and, seeing the same symbol that was on the bell, yanked it off.
“I thought so.”
He searched the young man, but didn’t find the second part to the key. The young man groaned and moved his head. Sabrah grabbed his tunic and shook him.
“Where’s the old man? Where’s Falselm?”
The young man opened his eyes for a moment to look at Sabrah.
“I’ll never tell you.”
Sabrah saw the likeness between his eyes and the Amethyst above the fountain and knew the young man was a descendant. Sabrah threw him back down and stood.
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”
“Emerald eyes…. You’re one of us. Why?”
Sabrah lifted his boot and pressed it down on the young man’s throat. The man clawed and scratched at the leather until he stopped moving.
“No, I’m better.”
Until next time….