Category Archives: Storydam

Medal (Storydam Word Wednesday)

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Medal

~*~

“You know what you’ve done, don’t you, Lorne?” Melmidoc said, his brow furrowed, sounding ever wiser than his years.

Lorne tried to stare back at the boy, but was startled by the intensity of his gaze and forced himself to look away. How was it these wizards got more and more talented at a younger age? Then again, Humans always seemed so little to him…

The Head Witch was shaking her head at him.  Gods, but the Humans could be so petulant… “You take back up this position, knowing full well the damage you’ve caused.”

“I know,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I know I was wrong.”

“You’re a Prize Mage, for Wune’s sake,” Melmidoc said.  ”Grow some balls and admit it – you were more than wrong. This was a catastrophe.  All for some stupid idea of revenge!”

“Melmidoc,” the Head Witch said, touching him lightly on the shoulder. The wizard took a deep, heaving breath and threw her touch off, stalking away into the corner to sulk.

Lorne swallowed hard.  The Head Witch held out the pendent, the mark of the Prize Mage. The thing he hadn’t worn since he left University all those years ago…

“Are you ready to do whatever it takes to win this?” the witch asked, her brown eyes strangely lacking any of the warmth they usually contained.  ”You must be motivated not out of revenge for what happened to your family, but out of loyalty to the Guild.  To our world.  And because you know that this is what’s right.  Revenge would be too easy.”

“I know,” Lorne said, and it felt like his mouth was filled with dry cloth.  ”I learned my lesson in the Northwilde.  I-I will do my duty to the Guild.”

“Then receive back your amulet, and your rights as a Prize Mage,” He bent down and she placed the chain neatly around his neck.

He touched the metal, remembering what it had cost him to lose this, to lose everything.

He remembered the friend that had gotten a matching amulet, and his broken promise of friendship.

He touched the gold medal, and it felt oh so heavy.

~*~

Okay, more backstory from my original fantasy series, Ebony. It is very vague, and I’m sorry for that again.

This is for an old Word Wednesday on Storydam, for the word “medal”.  I keep lurking over there… but anyway, this time I actually wrote something.

Old Hurts

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Ebony hovered somewhere in the void between sleep and waking.
It was wintertime, cold and smelling of ice and dead trees. She knew this memory taking form, and in her half-sleep she tried to tell herself to wake up and forget this place.
But the pull of the dream was stronger.
She saw herself as she tagged along behind the village boys from somewhere just behind and above–an invisible observer.
“I can play!” her seven year old self had insisted, stomping her feet on the forest floor.
Ian, the butcher’s boy, turned around, and she could feel her heart thump as her childhood crush turned to look at her. “You want to play the game?” he said, and she saw herself nod eagerly.
“Okay. You hide up in a tree so the Fae don’t get you. That’s them.” He pointed at half of the children. “Me and Sam are the Guild. We’ll come rescue you.”
“He won’t,” Ebony tried to tell her younger self, but it was like speaking from behind glass. She couldn’t hear herself.
“Okay!” shouted little Ebony before running off into the deepening woods, finding the best tree and climbing to the very top. Adult Ebony floated along of her own volition like she could fly.
She had always felt that the tops of trees were a safe place. The pixies liked it–why not her, too?
“He’s nothing but a liar. Go home,” big Ebony whispered, and with the weird inconsistency of dreams, little Ebony shrugged and responded.
“I know. But I liked him.”
“Idiot.” Big Ebony shook her head incredulously, but waited on branches’ edge.
Hours passed. Young Ebony fell asleep in the crook of two branches until the search party came and scolded her. She wasn’t frostbitten at all.
“But Ian said–” and Ebony watched her little heart break for the first time as she realized the truth.
Grown Ebony lay wide-eyed in the dawn-light, staring at the ceiling, breathing deep.
Some hurts never faded.
~*~

This entry is based on original characters and storylines from my original YA fantasy novel, Ebony BOOK 1: Ragnor’s Bane, currently in submission to agents.

This fulfills the requirements of Trifectafor the week:

safe adj \ˈsāf\

1 free from harm or risk : unhurt

2 a: secure from threat of danger, harm, or loss
b: successful at getting to a base in baseball without being put out

3 affording safety or security from danger, risk, or difficulty

4 obsolete of mental or moral faculties : healthy, sound

This week’s word is safe.

As well as storydam’s prompt:

Dam Burst: You are given a unique opportunity to go back and talk to a much younger you. What would you tell them about an old flame? And better yet—why? (We’re not trying to screw up your holiday. Please feel free to be completely fictional with this story.)