Losses and Beginnings

Xanthy is the sole survivor of a massacre, but he quickly finds a new life and a spiritual quest to give him meaning

Chapter 1

Loses and Beginnings

 

        I’ve traveled long and far, further than I ever imagined possible and through so many lands that I’ve lost count.  My Epic Quest led me around the world and deep into myself.  If I would have known just how much this quest would have demanded from me, I might not have chosen to complete it.  I had to go through the events with my eyes wide open and my heart just as open to new ideas.  If I would have become arrogant or too full of pride I could have ruined everything.  Sit down and I will tell you my epic story.

        I was born on the Planet Kartara Ethena in a small colony of nomads who lived and roamed the blue plains.  If you have never been there, you do not know what you are missing.  It is a beautiful place full of blue rolling hills that stretch endless in every direction.  The wind sweeps across the plains making the whole place come alive. 

       My people were a proud people and when my mother gave birth to me, the whole tribe rejoiced.  Another strong son and another fine huntsman and warrior had been born until them all.  I was given the name Xanthy, which I did not know until I was much old meant great storyteller.  My parents taught me well, weaving tales of their adventures from the time I was in my cradle until they were in the grave. 

       My father showed me how to hunt by spear and bow.  He taught not only how to hunt, but how to clean the food and prepare it in order to eat.  He showed me how to make clothing out of the furs of the great buffalo and how to make a shelter from the elements when I needed it. 

       My mother taught me how to recognize editable plants and berries.  She showed me what plants could be used for medicine and what ones were poison.  She also taught me how to sew and weave and take care of my younger sister. 

        These days were simple, but at the age of seven, even before my rights of passage into manhood, it was all wiped out.  My entire tribe and all of my security were gone.  All that I loved and knew was destroyed.  I was the sole survivor of the massacre.

         I remember the day as if it were yesterday.  It was as dark as pitch out and the height of a most dark and cold night.  The small village I lived in was silent and still.  Everyone, including me and my family, were sound asleep.  The two moons were covered by dark clouds and the air was chilly for a late summer night.  The silence was as think and heavy as wool over all of us. 
        Suddenly, a cry ripped through that silence, piecing the hearts of everyone.  The Wolves and their masters stormed through the camp like storm.  Animals burst into the tents, ripping out the throats of the sleeping plainsmen before they could cry out.  Their screams died in throats as the life gushed out of them.  The warriors set fire to everything and that is when everyone awoke to the nightmare being visited upon them.

         My mother felt the fear and terror grip her heart as she heard the chaos outside.  She roused my father and all of us children so we could escape.  What happened next was a blur.  We stumbled out of our home and over dead bodies that littered the ground around us.  I wanted to sob for the pain and suffering that I saw around me, but there was no time. 

        The attackers met us head on.  Papa drew his sword and swung it at the dirty, harry and animal like men that were slaughtering or tribe.  The fire light illuminated their angry and demonic faces as they cut down my father where he stood. 

        “Run!” Mama screamed at the top of her lungs.  “Now!”

        I stood paralyzed for a moment before I realized she was telling me to runaway.  Finally, I pulled myself away from my father’s bleeding corpse and shot off into the darkness beyond.  I did not see what happened to my mother and siblings, but I know they too must have been brutally murdered.  I didn’t look back to see though, I was afraid to see what I’d left behind.  And I was afraid that I would be next if I paused even a moment in my frenzied escape.  I ran as far away from the village as I could get. I ran until my legs were exhausted and couldn’t carry me any longer.

       I collapsed on the ground beside a couple of cottonwood tress.  My hearted thudded against my chest wildly.  I closed my eyes and soaked in the silence.  I could no longer hear or see the death that I’d woken up to that night.  I looked around, wondering just how far I’d managed to run.  Several miles at least I decided.  Tears fought their way from eyes and I let them go.  I sat cold and alone on the river bank sobbing.  I cried for the loss of my family, friends and all that I knew.  I cried at the horror that these beastly men caused without any hint of regret or sorrow.  I cried because I was all alone in the world and I had no idea how I was going to survive.  There would be no more hunting trips with Papa and no more comforting hugs from Mama.  There were no more brothers and sisters to fight with.  There was only me.

       I curled into a fetal position under a tree that night and fell asleep quiet quickly despite being terrible sore and uncomfortable.  In the morning when the sun warmed me, I stretched and rose.  I blinked my eyes and looked around half expecting to see Mama and Papa yelling at me for sleeping in.  But there was no one else.  Fighting back yet more tears, I stood up and looked around.  The trees around me were majestic and old.  They were sparce enough to see between though, which was nice.  I could easily see beyond them.  The hill I was on gently sloped down to a valley on the horizon.  I looked back to the direction that I’d come from the night before.  All I could see was smoke drifting on the distant horizon.  An emptiness filled my heart.  I couldn’t bring myself to believe that they were all truly gone.  Was there no hope? 

       Slowly, I turned and began walking.  My feet were bare and were quickly cut up and bleeding from treading the rocky, cold ground beneath me.  Even the grasses felt sharp and stung them.  I wished I could have brought a horse with me or some sort of traveling companion. 

        A part of me longed to head the other direction, back toward home, but I feared that some random attacker might have remained behind ready to attack the sole survivor if he dared returned.  No, I had to find a new place to call home and forget about my old life.  There was no sense in torturing myself by returning to the scene of the massacre.  

        For days I wandered.  I wandered into the valley that I’d spotted and beyond.  I stopped only briefly to rest under a tree for the night and I made no campfire.  I did not want to risk being seen.  I ate nothing except wild clover and dreadberries.  I continued walking in a daze from shock and grief.  I didn’t come out of the depressed daze for weeks. 

         I did not know how long it had been, but I finally ran out of will power.  I collapsed on the riverbank of the river I’d been following out of the blue plains.  I was dirty, exhausted and hungry beyond belief.  I gave in and collapsed.  I laid on my stomach spread out on the grassy knoll.  I passed out as the sunset over the glistening serpent of a river.  On the east, the land was flat for the most part, but it curved gently with the river that wound through it.  On the west rose tall brilliant green mountains like daggers sticking up from the heart of the land.  No shrubbery or flowers grew.  The land was barren of anything but short green grass.

          A traveler came upon my limp body and his shadow covered me.  The man, who was in a blue robe, carried a walking stick.  I came to for a moment and was shocked to see anything other than the landscape. I let out a scream and tried to scramble away from him.  The man’s pale face softened and I could see he meant no harm.  I sat up and rubbed my soiled, tear-stained eyes.  His skin was bluish in tint and his eyes were the darkest royal purple I’d ever seen.  The main’s long hair was such a light color of blond that it was nearly white in color.  I peered down at my own creamy brown skin and shoulder length brown hair.  After a moment the man reached out toward me.  He took my hand and helped me up. I could barely stand and my knees were about to buckle on me.  He smiled and steadied me.  When I was stable, he pointed across the river and then to himself.  I knew that he wanted me to or was asking me to go with him across the river.  I trusted him and so we traveled across the river together.

         We followed the bank a little ways and then came to a spot that jetted out into the river.  I watched in interest as this man, my guide, pulled a blanket that looked like a canvas from his pouch.  He unfolded it and then laid the edge out over the river.  Magically it stretched from our side of the river to the other side of the bank.  It appeared to be solid enough to walk across, so that is what we did.  The man, still wordless, took the first few steps across the magic bridge.  I followed faithfully.  When we came to the end of the bridge we stepped off and the man bent down. He pulled the bridge up and it became limp and dry in his hands.  H e folded it up and stuffed it back in his pouch. 

         The man wound through the passages between the mountains.  A slight wind whistled around us as we walked.  I looked up at the awesome surroundings wondering what was happening to me.  I had no idea what was around the corner.  It was a feeling that I’d become accustom to in the future.  It was double edge sword, both exciting and frightening at the same time.

        After a few moments we began climbing a path up one of the mountains.  It was hard work and require a break about half way up.  The man silently pulled out an apple to eat and a flask of water for us to drink from.  He took a drink first and then handed it to me.  I took a long drink and then ate the apple ravenously.  Afterward, we trudged up the mountain some more.  Not one word was said the whole way.  I kept struggling across the boulders and steep gravelly path, but I forced myself onward somehow knowing we were close to our destination.

          By afternoon we’d rounded one last curve and came to a temple carved in the side of the mountain.  It was surrounded by overhanging green vines and orange flowers.  It was absolutely breathtaking.  The man rapped on a wooden door within the wall.  I gazed up at the window and the decorative swirls within the cliff above me.  The swirls danced before my eyes and I felt like I was spinning.  I was dizzy and out of breathe.  I blacked out as the wooden doors creaked open. 

Reviews

[Tai Ryens]

Interesting start, I'll be sure to look at this later.
There were a couple grammar mistakes, mostly a missed comma or something, but this one line needs to be rephrased a bit in my opinion, I had to stop and read it over a couple times.
"I was given the name Xanthy, which I did not know until I was much old meant great storyteller."
Other than that, nothing major. Keep up the amazing work, and do keep me updated!