Story by Me

I don’t like it too much 'cause I think I’m bad at it, but that’s me. :confused:
I’m posting to get some feedback (and this is far from finished) and criticism from you wonderful people.

All told, it’s about 6-9 pages (I’ve printed it out twice and had two different amount of pages o.O).

Any and all comments welcomed, including if there seems to be anything amiss or out of place, along with any additions you might think help (or deletions; I’m open to lots of changes to this). Thanks for reading!

It was pouring and thundering and lightning tore open the sky, but Mehujael didn’t notice nor did he care. Inside Acaad Monastery, he was praying for God to wash away his sins and to forgive him for his wrongdoings. Mehujael took his prayers seriously because he was young and didn’t know better, so he never looked around him while he prayed.

Because he never looked up, the other people around Mehujael did look up and admired him. This was especially true of the young women who had just begun to notice the attention the men paid to them. While not particularly tall, Mehujael was a bit taller than the rest of the people there and so the people claimed he was a giant. He was very muscular and could wield almost any weapon with ease, so the people claimed he was the best fighter in all the land. So quick was he that the townsfolk called him quickest in all the lands. His hair was a golden blonde and he had green eyes, neither of which had been seen in anyone’s memory, and so the people said he must be divine.

All this passed through the churchgoers’ minds every day while praying. Mehujael knew of this talk and, although he didn’t think it was entirely true, didn’t discount it. He might be considered divine because he was of noble descent, but if that were the case, there were a lot more divine people than there should be. Regardless of what they thought while praying, he kept his mind clean and pure and prayed for forgiveness for them too because of their thoughts of him.

At the end of his last prayer, the great church doors creaked open before a resounding CRACK came from the walls where the doors had hit them. Three men, dressed all in black robes or armor, rushed in through the shocked crowd to the altar at the front of the room. One of the robed men conjured a light in his hands, which grew larger and larger before it disappeared and a lightning bolt blinded those who were looking around.

Before his eyesight could clear, Mehujael felt a gloved hand roughly grab his head and force it back, exposing his throat. Before any of his instincts could kick in and free him, Mehujael felt a knife blade at his throat and he quickly forgot about any thoughts of escape for now. Although he wasn’t going to be able to escape now, he moved around to get a feel for his enemy, to test his reactions so he could better learn how to overpower his foe when the time came.

Another man, again dressed all in black robes, strode through the open doors and to the altar, where the other two men waited. Unlike all the others, the newcomer didn’t have a helmet or hat covering his head, and so Mehujael studied this apparent leader.

The man had dark brown hair that fell down to his broad shoulders in straight lines, unlike Mehujael’s unruly hair. His eyes were dark brown, so dark that they appeared to be black at first glance. His face was smooth, with no scar marring the perfection. Many thought he was beautiful, even more so than their wonderful Mehujael.

Upon reaching the altar, the man entered a hushed conversation with the two men there. Nobody ever heard a word that passed between the trio, not that they would’ve understood the language the strange men spoke. Almost immediately after it started, the discussion ended. Even before it was stopped, the two armored men started moving quickly. One reached the High Priest before the other had reached a noble young man sitting in the second row of benches. Both were unceremoniously knocked unconscious by a blow to the side of the head before being dragged back to the leader.

Without a spoken command, the man holding Mehujael also hit him across the side of the head with the knife blade. Mehujael lost consciousness for a brief second before his head his head hit the ground. Dazed, he didn’t even think about stopping the men, nor did the rest of the service; they were still silent from the
lightning and violence the robed men had displayed.

Without a word spoken, the largest two of the four slung the High Priest and nobleman and left the church. The apparent leader and the mage left a moment later, not speaking or looking at the frightened mass of people.

Once the kidnappers had left, the church erupted in chatter. The only subject of conversation was who the men were and why they took the hostages. Mehujael didn’t care why they were taken; he needed to catch them or, if he failed to do so, report the kidnappings. He rushed outside into the rain.

Once outside, Mehujael was instantly drenched from the pouring rain still coming down freely. The rain offered no visibility and the lightning flashes didn’t illuminate anything. He doubted that he’d be able to see them even if it was a clear day at high noon; that wizard could probably do more than conjure lightning.

Cursing under his breath, Mehujael set off at a run westward. He didn’t know who kidnapped the High Priest and the noble or why they did, but he had to report the crime so appropriate actions could be taken.

While traveling though the countryside, Mehujael rarely stopped in towns or at night to rest. He slept only a few hours during the darkest hours so he could reach Macapul Castle as soon as he could. He carried nothing on him but his two daggers; he ate what he could kill with them and drank whatever water he found.
Because of his speed and strict discipline, Mehujael could make the trip from Acaad Monastery to the mountains east of Macapul Castle in three days; he doubted if anyone else could make it in less than ten. When he did reach the mountains, he slowed. The climb through the mountain the through the passes could be extremely dangerous and treacherous.

Thoughts about the kidnappings and his report ran through his head. He had to think about it so he didn’t trip over his words and make a fool of himself. These thoughts distracted him from the path in front of him and his surroundings because he knew the area and so didn’t focus on them.

Because of his lack of focus and his thoughts, Mehujael didn’t see the other man coming before he had knocked into him. While the man scrambled for footing, Mehujael was studying him, trying to determine if he was a threat or not. The young man, with a bit of work, could have passed as his twin. He was just a bit smaller than Mehujael, but the shape and color of his eyes were the same. His hair was a light brown but there were ways to change the color. He was certainly as muscular as Mehujael. He noticed a basket of produce next to the man, its contents spilled onto the ground, now worthless; he surmised the man was a farmer of some sort and probably going to market his goods.

The young man stood and straightened up, quickly noticing the man across from him was a noble.

“Sorry for knocking you over, sir,” he said. “I am Nahor, son of Simeon Ladus.”

Mehujael was taken aback at the apology. “No apology needed from you. It was I who was lost in his thoughts and didn’t watch for others. My apologies.”

If Mehujael was stunned at Nahor’s apology, Mehujael’s positively bewildered Nahor. A noble apologizing to a commoner!

It was unheard of in any place. His shock was dispelled when Mehujael spoke again.

“It seems that I’ve knocked over and ruined your fruit. I must
repay you in some way. Would you like money?”

Nahor nodded dumbly and named the price he had expected to sell the fruits for. Mehujael couldn’t pay this much because he was traveling so lightly, so he had another idea.

“Well, I certainly can’t give that much right now because I don’t have enough on me, so how about this: I’ll bring you to Macapul Castle and let you take however much fruit you can carry. It’s the least I can do, especially sine it’ll make you late for market.”

Nahor couldn’t believe his luck! Not only did this noble not treat him like dirt, but he was also offering to let him take fruit from his home! He took some deep breaths to calm himself before speaking again

“If you’d be so kind, sir, that’d be more than enough to pay me for this inconvenience.”

With a payment agreed on, the two men turned around and started walking back to Macapul Castle. While walking and during the night when they camped, the duo talked constantly, comparing their lives and adventures. Soon, they knew everything about the other and had become inseparable friends. They both knew that if the offer of all the fruit Nahor could hold was accepted, Mehujael would go with him to the market.

The next day, they reached the castle. Mehujael didn’t pause to take in the beauty of his home because he had seen it before, but Nahor had never been inside a castle before and so he started to lag behind. Mehujael rushed to the throne room where he knew he would find his older sister, Eola. Because it was the main room of the castle, it was the most beautiful of all the rooms, as well as the warmest and most dignified because of the thrones themselves. Even though their parents had both died years back, no one had sat on the throne since then; the siblings wouldn’t let them because they believe no one was worthy. As a private joke, they would sit on the thrones as they talked to each other, flaunting their status over the others.

Mehujael quickly sat down in the king’s throne and retold the attack at the church. He told it slowly and carefully, making sure not to use unnecessary words because he needed this to be understood immediately so the proper action could be taken. Near the end of his tale, Nahor entered the room, looking for Mehujael.

Eola noticed him before Mehujael and was ready to order him to be thrown out before her brother finally noticed that she wasn’t paying attention to his story any more. He acted before she did and quickly talked about their meeting in the mountain pass. She settled down and a chair was brought in for Nahor to sit down on. Mehujael retold the last portion of his story and waited for her reaction and orders.

Before long, Eola had indeed reached a decision on about the recent events. Her reasoning she kept to herself but her orders were soon known throughout the court: The search for the High Priest and missing noble – Mehujael had learned the name was Ceak from keeping his ears open during the orders, hoping he would be sent out to search for the noble – was to begin immediately. Her brother’s hopes were dashed, however, when she announced he would stay and guard Nahor on his travel back to the trading city of Jilai.

Dejected, Mehujael left the throne room and headed for his private quarters. He quickly showered and changed into a clean change of clothes before going to the main hall to wait for Nahor to finish gathering fruits and vegetables to sell. Shortly, the young farmer came out with a full basket of produce ready to sell. Since he already knew their destination and what Mehujael was doing for him, they set out for Jilai without a word.

Oooh…this be interestin’. I’d very much like to see where it goes from here.

Very nice, Cala. I admire your way of being able to make up the story with so much text (I have a tendency to use too much dialogue myself :P). Your details are nice and crisp, perhaps you could add a little more of them though. But it’s really just enough to get the images set in my mind, it’s just if you’d like to “decorate” the text a bit more.

The story is very well written and has great potential.