The tale of a warrior

[mister-fett]

The tale of Trevor: A series of Short Stories

by Mister Fett (me!)

Read this before reading any warrior tale stories!

Index:

Trevor: Trevor is a seventeen-year-old prince who has a strong interest in two things: His faith, Christianity, and the “Magic” art of science. His father, John of Wentworth, is king of Raltir, a perfectly circular island fifteen hundred miles in diameter. John encourages Trevor to pursue science, but the people of Raltir believe science is a magic art. Trevor knows that God would approve of science, but the people still think that science is magic and all magic is evil. Trevor reads a chapter of Psalms of Proverbs every morning, and rereads Revelation every month.

John: John of Wentworth is the Fifty year old king of Raltir, and resides over the great fortress Moosonia (MOO-SAWN-EE-UH) treating all of his people fairly. Because of a crop theory John came up with, it takes only one acre of land to feed one thousand people. It is only necessary to plant crops every five years, but John has made it a practice to plant every other year, and store what is left of everything. In the year not needed for planting, every citizen pursues his or her own interests. Everyone in Raltir can read and write, and Raltir’s army was the best trained in the world. He has taught Trevor sword skill, empty handed fighting, and baptized Trevor when Trevor excepted Jesus as his savior at age eight.

Marcel: Marcel is Trevor’s loving mother, who taught him leather craft, table manners, and how to read and write. She read him the bible every morning until he was sixteen.

Moosunia: Moosunia is a ten square mile fortress, with fifty foot thick reinforced granite walls, built in a perfect square at the exact center of Raltir. Because of multiple levels and underground chambers, the entire population of Raltir can be fit into Moosonia for up to one week in times of emergency. In the center of Moosunia is a great library, with every book ever written by every citizen of Raltir inside, and in the center of the library, in a solid steel room, is the Press. Any citizen of Raltir would give their lives to save the press.

Raltir: Raltir is a perfectly circular island fifteen hundred miles in diameter, with:
· Citizens of Raltir (RAL-TEER) are called Raltinian (RALTEENEE N (Singular) and Raltinians (RALTEENEE Ns) (Plural) and Raltian (RALTEE N) (of Raltir, Ex. Raltian Coffee)
· No one knew of the existence of Raltir until the 1490’s, the time period of this epic story.
· A perfect ridge of ten mile thick mountains containing gold, silver, iron, aluminum, tin, and copper ores,
· A volcano 150 miles north of Moosunia
· A population never exceeding fifty thousand, and never falling below thirty thousand. No one knows why or how, and no one seems to care.

Pastimes of Raltir:
· Prayer: Everyone on Raltir is a devout Christian, and not by force, either. On every child’s sixth birthday, they are given a copy of the bible.
· Smelting: Many people of Raltir enjoy mixing different types and combinations of metal, and making bars out of it to trade to metal smiths.
· Smiths: Others enjoy hammering and joining the bars to make armor, bows, weapons, horse drawn vehicles, as well as bicycles.
· YOU MUST BE SEVENTEEN OR OLDER TO SMITH OR SMELT
· Smelting is mixing two dissimilar metals to make a new metal. (Ex. Tin+Copper=bronze)
· Cooks: Raltir had the finest foods in the world, if anyone had known Raltir existed.
· Authors: Many books filled the shelves of Moosonia. You were not considered a true man or woman until you had written a decent book.
· Athletes: Almost everyone on Raltir participated in sports such as fencing, running, bike riding, and archery.
· There were no gender problems, men and women participated in all of the above.

Mlario: Mlario is an herb that causes instant sleep for up to eight hours.

The Press: The Press is a machine, heavily protected, that prints out a complete bible every two minutes. The Press took James of Wentworth fifteen years to smith.

The rather serious problem: A warlord, Trunix, found Raltir when charting the oceans. He reported back to Barbaria, and several hundred thousand barbarian warriors set out in canoes to conquer and (destroy, contaminate, pollute, desecrate, satanize, and otherwise cause trouble) for Raltir. Trevor gets to stop these rather homicidal maniacs with the ten thousand man Raltian army. Good for him, and good luck. He is going to need it, with those odds.

 

[mister-fett]

One: Trevor learns to smith

By Mister Fett

Trevor hammered the Raltian steel bar over and over again, barely making dents in the cold metal. Sparks flew, and the smell of sweat filled the air. Trevor hammered faster, and faster still. He had to finish before the bells of the tower rang! Finally, out of frustration, he ruined the work he had spent five hours on. He was attempting to make a short sword, but had succeeded only in driving his metal into the anvil. Why should a sword take longer than two hours to make? At seventeen, he had the age and strength needed to smith and smelt, but did not have the patience needed for anything. He had won three fencing tournaments already, and was the author of a quartet of eight hundred page books as well. The books had not been popular, due to the numerous ink blots, spelling mistakes, and incredibly hard to keep up with plots. He was not doing so well at his new pastime, either, which REQUIRED patience.
John walked into the smith house of Moosunia to check on Trevor just as Trevor destroyed the steel bar.
“By Saint Peter, Trevor, what are you doing?” John said.
“Trying to make a short sword!” Trevor replied.
“It helps if you keep the metal hot.” John said, chuckling.
“Oh.” Trevor said, blushing.
“Let me show you.” John said softly.
Trevor handed his father the hammer, and a fresh bar of steel. His father crossed the long room to a furnace, which Trevor had incorrectly assumed was for heating a metal bar only once. He had heated his bar of steel at the beginning, but forgotten to renew it every few minutes. His father spent the next two hours hovering over the anvils, making small taps on his project with a chisel, placing the bar back into the fire, adding a touch of iron here, some silver there. John then carefully placed a fresh bucket of molten steel into a mold, before stomping on the mold several times. After all of this, he opened the mold and revealed the two parts of his new craft. A beautifully patterned dagger hilt was lifted from the anvil, and out of the mold came a blade that could easily snap into position on the hilt.
“Go and read for a while.” John said to Trevor, who obeyed immediately.
Two more hours later, John walked into Trevor’s reading room wearing two gloves.
“My gift to you.” Said John, holding out his hands. As Trevor reached to accept the gloves, John moved in a blur, suddenly holding a dagger in his hand.
“Incredible!” Trevor exclaimed to his father.
“I call it magnetism. When you place the two parts of the dagger near each other, they slam together to make this strong blade.” John explained.
“Do you now understand the importance of patience? This small item took eight hours of hard work to produce. A short sword could take days, if made to perfection out of Raltian steel. In other countries, unbelievable as it seems, swords and other items can be made much, much faster.”
“For an item such as this, I am willing to wait!” Trevor said before running back to the smith house.
This time, Trevor selected three bars of steel, and smelted them together into one long bar, and hammered one end into a point. After this, he ate lunch, and then hammered along down the left side for five hours, then, when he reached the un-pointed end, he spent an hour making a ball on it, forming the butt of the hilt. He started hammering the right side of the blade, then went to bed for the night after eating dinner. When he woke up, he continued his work on the hilt, making a gold T and finishing the blade. This was the finished product. (picture of cool sword)

He named this blade Metrion, or, “protector from evil” in Raltian. With this sword, he would win many battles. Unknown to even Trevor, the forging of this sword was not yet complete.
After Trevor made a nice bronze scabbard and a leather belt to hang it from, he went to bed.
“I will show it to father in the morning.”
That’s what you think, Trevor.

END CHAPTER ONE PART ONE

Trevor woke up to hear the alarm bells ringing loudly in his ears, and he smelled smoke and fire. As he grabbed Metrion and ran out the door of his room, he saw blood smeared on a hut about twenty feet away. He gasped in horror, then sighed in relief. A wolf was pinned to the hut by seventy arrows. Wolves! Why was everyone afraid of wolves? Thought Trevor as he brought Metrion down over his head, cutting into the heart of a wolf that had strayed too close.
He was not wearing any heavy armor, so Trevor was light enough to grab a flag pole, and swing his boots in the faces of three more wolves. With four swift strokes of justice, the wolves lay dead in the grass, and Trevor’s mother was going to go insane about his new freshly ruined shirt.
As the bells stopped ringing, Trevor wondered how the wolves had gotten past the sentries perched on the walls of the great fortress Moosunia, where most of the population of Raltir lived. He climbed up to the sentry tower, finding the ultimate horror. The sentries had been sleeping, even through the bells! Trevor smelled their breath to confirm what he already knew. The guards had been tricked into drinking mlario, a plant that caused instant sleep for up to eight hours.

Two hours later, Trevor was in his father’s room eating breakfast, and asked how many people had died in the attack. His father happily reported no one had been injured with anything more serious than cuts or bruises, except the foolish wolves. Now’s the time, thought Trevor.
“This is Metrion, Father. I spent two days making her.” Trevor said, handing the blade, now cleansed of wolf blood, to John. John ran his finger down the flat of the blade, then over the T on the hilt.
“Excellent craftsmanship! The work of a true Raltinian!” Was how his father had put it.
After receiving this praise, Trevor woke up the next morning to purchase ten bars of steel, to make a full suit of armor for himself. A week later, Trevor showed his father an extremely thin layer of armor, a flimsy helmet, and leggings that would be every horses dream, if their riders wore them instead of the usual heavy stuff. The villagers almost laughed, but John understood immediately. To confirm his suspicion, he tried to stab Trevor’s chest plate with his dagger, only to have his dagger thrown out of his hand before it could touch the thin armor. Trevor had found a magnetic metal, concentrated it, and added it to his armor. Not even an arrow could penetrate his magnetic field.
“If anyone attacks you with a stick, be afraid!” said John, laughing like a jackal.
“If only we could make the magnets more powerful! We could stop anyone from entering our city!” Trevor exclaimed.
“I tried it once,” said John, “but it caused our knights to stick on the inside of the walls like flies!”
“Oh well. Should I make more of this armor?” Asked Trevor hopefully.
“No. Our island does not have many magnetic metals on the surface, you would have to dig several hundred feet below ground before reaching the magnets with enough power to what your armor can do. Besides, everyone already thinks your armor is enchanted! They do not believe in science!” John replied. Yet, the armor was enchanted… enchanted with the hard work Trevor had put into making it, and therefore the love John had for his son.

END CHAPTER ONE PART TWO

Over the next month, Trevor made several swords, magnetic daggers, and other trinkets, but he did not make another suit of armor. He also started smelting and mining his own ores and metal bars, and once, when doing this, he discovered a mixture of metals so light it could be worn by a child, yet so strong it could withstand a hail of arrows, even when in a paper thin sheet. After this, Trevor renewed his armor making with a vengeance, making three suits in a day, a feat previously unheard of! The trick was to use the volcano at the North edge of the island as a bellows/furnace, and Trevor spent much of his time there, more than a hundred miles from Moosunia.
Out of this metal, he supplied armor for the entire army of Raltir in a mere month. Trevor was a mathematical genius, and had calculated how to use boulders of exact shapes, combined with a complex pulley system to precision-smith the armor for mass production. Three months after his seventeenth birthday, Raltir was the most powerful island in the world, though no one, not even a citizen of Raltir, not even John or Trevor, knew it.
One day, when Trevor was back in Moosunia, he and his father had a long conversation.
“Father, has anyone ever attacked our island?” Asked Trevor.
“Yes, son, two hundred years ago. Fifty thousand people attacked, and our army had only three hundred men. It is said that our army lured them to the volcano, and the great hero James of Wentworth took command of the army…


James looked down upon the barbarian army, listening to reports from his lieutenants. No one from Raltir had died yet, but several thousand barbarians had been killed by Raltian arrows. The barbarians had figured how to make bows, and the end seemed to be drawing near.
“Set our arrows on fire, and pour oil on the barbarians.” James commanded. His orders were instantly obeyed, and he raised and dropped his hand, the signal to fire. Two hundred and ninety nine flaming arrows covered the oil soaked barbarians, who began blindly running into each other, spreading the fire. When the smoke cleared minutes later, only ten thousand barbarians were left alive. Not only had the Raltinians poured oil on the barbarians, the ground had been soaked with oil the day before! The extra oild was only a confusion factor.
“Draw swords!” James said. The sound of three hundred swords zipping out of their scabbards filled the air for a short moment.
“Leave none alive lest they bring reinforcement. Spare them only if they ask it, do not ask them for mercy, for they know none. Glory be to Jehovah!” James shouted, charging down the hill towards what should have been his doom.

“It is said that that day, the cloudless sky spat fire down upon the barbarians, and as the Raltinians gutted the enemy army, the barbarian leader, blinded by lightning, jumped into the volcano. That was the first and last time anyone dared to know of Raltir’s existence. That time, we won because God was with us. This time, we are ready even if God forsakes us, which he will not.”
“Incredible. I thought no one knew Raltir existed.”
“No one does, anymore. You would have known the legend I just told you if you had listened in history classes.” John said, mockingly.
“Harhar. Very funny.” Trevor said, trying his best to make the sarcasm seem real.
“Yet, father, if God is with us, is it not distrustful to make our army so powerful for such a reason? It is wise to do so, but…are we not doing it for the wrong reason? God will never forsake us but are we not forsaking God by spending all of our time on the army? Should we not share the fruitfulness of Raltir and the Truth of Christ with the starving world?” Trevor asked.
“Son, many of the peoples of the world would wish to control us, to take our land from us. I must protect our people.” John replied.
Trevor understood, after that. Going out to tell the world of Jesus would prove dangerous for Raltir, because other countries would want the metals, soil, and knowledge of Raltir for themselves. Raltir was willing to share, but not willing to give itself up to greedy strangers. Everyone in Raltir was Christian by choice, but Trevor had heard tales of countries where church attendance was required, and the people were not truly loyal to God. In those places, horrible things like stealing, murder, burnings, and hangings happened daily. Trevor did not want Raltir to become like those hellish places.
Even if Trevor had to kill a human to stop it from happening, Raltir would never succumb to the secular world. Not while Trevor breathed.

END CHAPTER ONE

 

[mister-fett]

Two: Talk of War

By Mister Fett

Raltir now had an extremely powerful army, and absolutely no use for it except to defend Moosunia from sporadic wolf attacks. Trevor was now Captain of the army, and all of the men were loyal to him and his father. Enough food was now stored that Raltir did not need to plant crops for at least three decades. Still, the people needed to keep their strength and work ethic, so the fields were still used every other year. Trevor was still Seventeen, and it was now March 15th. (Trevor was born on New Year’s Eve)
Trevor, although protective of Raltir, wanted to help the outside world by sending bibles and food out on an unmanned boat using a river leading away from Moosunia, so that no one would know where Raltir was, but they would know that someone cared about their welfare, and that Jesus had died to save them. It was a good intentioned plan that was destined to go terribly wrong, and would haunt Trevor forever. (More on that later)
People were talking of having a great war, which was really a big game using weak wooden swords and shields. Every person participating in the war would choose to be on one of two teams, and everyone would have a wooden sword and shield. If you broke your sword on your enemies shield, your enemy was said to have defeated you. The shields could not be broken by the swords, and the swords were incapable of breaking each other. If a player managed to break their sword on their opponent, they were said to have defeated their opponent, and the opponent would give the player their own unbroken sword.
This year, more than twenty thousand people were participating in the war, and war was all anyone could talk about. This would benefits this would have for Trevor’s plan were endless. Trevor could sneak the boat out during the confusion at the start of the war, and then rejoin the war after the boat was out of sight.
Another reason so many people would be participating in this year’s war was the new age limit. The minimum age had been seventeen, it was now fourteen. Nearly every young boy or girl in the age group of 14-16 was going to fight in this war. Also, a small group of thirteen year olds had started a newsgroup, and were taking paper and ink onto the battlefield to write short stories about the war. Everyone was helping the war in some way! Mothers were making leather armor and swords for their young children, and fervently praying that their off spring participating in the war would not be harmed. Fathers were preparing themselves and their offspring for the war by practicing in arenas and fields, and about seven thousand players would be riding bikes this year. (You are now confused if you have not read the index)
This was to be the first war in five years, and no one wanted to miss out. The war would start in a week. Because of the skill all Raltinians have from so much practice, the war was anticipated to take only a few hours.

END CHAPTER TWO PART ONE

One week later, two teams of approximately ten thousand lined up on opposite sides of a valley three miles east of Moosunia. The front lines were only two hundred feet away from each other! As Trevor prepared his supply boat for launch, the trumpets to start the fighting sounded. As everyone turned their attention to the battlefield, Trevor cut the mooring lines on the boat, and shoved it into the current of the river. The deed had been done.
An hour later, Trevor had biked out onto the battle field, parked his bike, and drawn his sword for battle. There were two teams: Red team and Blue team. Trevor was on the former, and they were losing badly. A blue soldier thought he was sneaking up on Trevor, but Trevor had noticed his shadow from ten feet away. As the blue fool raised his sword, Trevor whirled around and broke his sword on the man’s chest.
“Prince Trevor?” The man asked. Trevor was already gone, holding the man’s sword in his hand. He heard shouting ahead, and saw broken swords all over the ground. As he ran through a rather thick clump of trees, he found the mainstream of the battle. Perhaps five thousand survivors were giving their all to fight each other, and, without even thinking, Trevor ran into the thick of it. He used his shield to defeat three blues who swung their swords at him from three completely different directions, then ducked as a red and blue player crossed swords near him. He swung at the blue players knees, his sword snapped, and the blue player handed him his sword.
The rest of the battle went pretty much the same way, except for one final duel near the end, where Trevor swung at a blue player from behind, only to have the man swing around and parry his strike. Except the man was young, and the young man was a girl with striking blue eyes and golden blond hair. None the less, Trevor had his sword and shield switch places, then swung at her knees, not even hesitating to strike her. She handed him her sword, he took it, and walked away without even asking her name. (What is he thinking! Hello? Ever heard of True love?) (apparently not)
Even though Red had been losing by five hundred before Trevor arrived, the girl had been the last Blue standing, and Red had been victorious for the first time in three wars. As his team mates lifted him onto their shoulders for the traditional victory parade, Trevor could not help but think of the boat.


Trunix looked on the boat with distaste. It had no cannons, only sales. It was pathetically small, and filled with… wait… food! Trunix pulled his oars several times, then jumped onto the other boat. Weird boxes with black lines on them were mixed in with the delicious food! Yuck! Trunix tossed the food onto his boat, then dumped the black boxes off of the boat. He rowed home, to Barbaria. This was enough food for many warriors! Trunix thought of something, then. He thought an evil thought… He thought to take over the land of all this food. He would search for it, and he would find it. No matter how long it took, food land would be HIS.


Trevor thought of all the deserving people now benefiting from his act of kindness, how full their bellies would be, and how they must be reading the bible even now. Trevor had added notes on how to become saved in each bible, and maybe in a week or two someone would get saved. For now, thought Trevor, I should write another book, one with more plot and no spelling mistakes. That night, Trevor started on his book.
It was about a warrior, a warrior of light in a world of darkness. He had to find the exit to this world, and when he did, he was very joyful. Trevor spent the next week writing this short novel, and after that, he placed it in the library.
He went out onto the balcony later that night, and found the girl he had early defeated during the war staring at the stars. He walked past her toward the smith house. It was almost time for bed, but Trevor had to seek council with Marcel, his mother. She was watching a suit of armor take shape as Trevor walked into the room.
“Mother, have you ever thought about the outside world?” Trevor asked.
“Yes, Trevor, I have. There are many kinds of people out there, good, and bad. There is never a moment of complete peace out there! Many of the people starve, while a select few feast on fine delicacies taken from their starving subjects. I once thought of sending a boat with food and bibles, but realized they would never stop searching for Raltir if they found how much food is on the boat, and how good it tastes.”
Oh man. I am so dead! Trevor thought to himself. I put fruits, fresh bread in sealed containers, and all the greatest tasting things we have on that boat! I should tell Mother. But the people… Father… would kill me! I cannot decide whether to tell or not! I should pray about it, but God would want me to… that means I have to…
“Okay mom. I will NEVER send anything outside.” Trevor said, doing an excellent job of hiding his fear.
“I washed the shirt from bloody wolf night!” Marcel informed him, handing it to him.
“Thanks. I should go to bed now.” Trevor said, walking to his room.

Son, why couldn’t you just tell me? Is it that hard to admit your mistake? I wont tell your father, but I wish you would be honest with me, Marcel thought to herself. She sighed, and started on her own suit of armor. If that boat she had watched Trevor send out was found, she would need it.

END CHAPTER TWO PART TWO

A few days and one week after the boat had been sent, Trevor was practicing fencing with another boy his age, when the bells rang. He and his partner dropped their fencing foils, and grabbed their real swords. Metrion gleamed in the sun, and Trevor ran toward the gates of Moosunia. Wolf attack again!
Seeing as wolves were incredibly stupid to enter the city, Trevor was not worried, but had vowed to kill at least five wolves every time they attacked. He jumped over horse feeding trough to face another… really BIG wolf… a standing UP wolf… with really BIG teeth. As it pounced towards Trevor’s head, Metrion lowered in front of him like a branch from tree, and in a shower of blood, the wolf fell to the ground. His mother was really going to kill him this time. It had taken her month’s to get the last stains out! Using a bow from the armory this time, Trevor quickly dispatched three more wolves. As he aimed at a fourth, a young child ran out to fight the wolf with a leather sword, placing himself in mortal danger, and blocking off Trevor’s shot.
Trevor ran towards the child, too late. The wolf pounced, the child screamed, and Trevor averted his eyes, as the wolf bit down into…
thin air. A girl Trevor’s age on a rope had swung down from above, saving the child, and giving Trevor a clear shot. Without hesitation, Trevor pulled the trigger. With even less hesitation, the wolf fell down dead. Completely predictably, it was the girl from the great war. Even more predictably, Trevor was already gone.
With enough crops for three decades, an army with nearly indestructible armor, a perfect city, and a really big library, along with a guarantee that everyone gets to live with Jesus forever, there wasn’t that much to do on Raltir. Things like the great war took years to prepare for, and the next fencing tournament would not happen until June.
If there was one thing Trevor hated, it was lack of work. Due to his boredom, Trevor started thinking. When Trevor starts thinking, he usually comes up with either
a) a new way plant crops/ new way to do mathematics
or
b) a battle strategy for the next great war
Today, though, Trevor had come up with a new sport. This new sport would be called the quest, and the quest would entertain Raltir for centuries. In a quest, one person would set an objective for another to complete, such as “rescue” a person by defeating some guards in a miniature “war”. He told his father of the idea, and John agreed immediately. John decided the objective would be for Trevor to find and rescue his mother Marcel in less than three days. She would be hidden somewhere in Moosunia, and one hundred villagers would be given information for Trevor to ask for. The quest began the next day, and John gave Trevor a code phrase. If a villager responded, “I too have heard such,” then Trevor could ask them for more information. The code phrase was “ I have heard talk of war”…

END CHAPTER TWO

 

[mister-fett]

Three: The first Quest

By Mister Fett

Trevor walked down the aisle of the marketplace, searching for a likely informant. He glanced up at a shopkeeper in a tall conical hat, and walked towards her quickly.
“I have heard talk of war!” Trevor said with false excitement.
“I too have heard such…Prince Trevor!” The shopkeeper said, drawing out a hidden wood sword from her robes. Trevor took his shield off of his carrying strap, and slipped his sword out of its leather scabbard, dropping himself into a fighting stance. Apparently, his father had set up a few surprises for him! The shopkeeper ran towards a wall, kicking off of it, launching into an aerial front flip towards Trevor. Trevor barely moved fast enough to avoid her blow, and raised his sword just in time to stop her sword from making contact with his head. This quest was not going well… but it could be worse, thought Trevor as he broke the shopkeeper’s sword by raising his shield against her attack.
“You fight pretty well.” He said to her.
“The very same could be said about you.” She said as she curtsied and resumed her shop keeping duties. As Trevor continued down the street, he realized that the shopkeeper could have been the mother of that girl he had defeated in the war. (She was the mother of that girl, and that girl’s name is Vanessa, for those who were wondering.) Trevor silently thanked God he had been expecting one of the villagers participating in his quest would attack him. He found another likely shop-keeper, and approached him. This time, he already had his sword and shield drawn.
“I have heard talk of war!” Trevor said with real excitement, anticipating a fight.
“It was last week you fool!” The shopkeeper replied. Trevor shook his head, then decided to buy some fruit from this shopkeeper. It was almost lunchtime! As he gave the shopkeeper a small dagger in exchange for a bucket of apples, he asked,
“Do you know of any good hiding places in this fortress?”
“Hiding places? Are you mad? This city has six levels above ground, with three more below! An army of a thousand could hide in this city!” The man replied. Trevor realized what a stupid question that was. “Duh, hey, where can you hide in a nine level, ten square mile city?” You could hide anywhere, of course. Trevor doubted he would find Marcel in so short a time, seeing as forty thousand people were clueless, eighty would probably help him, and twenty were trying to defeat him in combat. Suddenly, inspiration struck him like a rock.
“OUCH!” Trevor shouted as a rock bounced off of his head.
“Sorry!” Shouted some children who had been playing slam, a game in which everyone took a turn hitting rocks with a two-foot by one-foot board. Whoever landed closest to a circle one foot in diameter would win.
“I win! Pay up!” Said one of the children. Although gambling was not exactly Christian, it was considered permissible to wager with tekrits, (paper slips with interesting pictures on them.) Trevor had found a way to complete his quest!
“Children! Do you wish to earn some tekrits?” Trevor shouted.
“Sure!” The biggest one shouted. Trevor explained the code phrase to them, and asked them to write down what was said if someone replied with the counter phrase. He promised them each three of his old Tekrits (which he did not need, now that he was an adult) if they completed his task. They agreed immediately.
The next morning, Trevor was waiting for his hired help in the lobby of the library. Five children came rushing in, each with a stack of paper.
“We got the stuff!” The biggest said.
“Here are your tekrits, as agreed.” Trevor replied. He discreetly handed each of them FOUR tekrits, and watched two of them, the oldest, run away.
“You said three tekrits. Have you hanged your mind and decided to give us four?” The very youngest asked.
“No. I have decided to give you these.” Trevor said, handing out small daggers with leather scabbards. He was pleased with their honesty. Almost as pleased with that as he was with the detailed notes they had given him.
“Take these and get them signed by your parents, then come back here tomorrow morning. I believe I can trust you, so if your parents do not want you to own a dagger, bring them back.” Trevor said as they ran away.
“Yessir!” They shouted. Trevor read through each set of notes. He found four pages of relevant information, and pieced them together. He read them as if they were one page of data.

Marcel is in
A place guarded well
You could say it is three Underground
where the swords lie cooling

The cooling room! Of course! His father had placed marcel, and probably a good number of guards, near the underground cooling room, where some suits of armor from the volcano were still not completely wearable. Trevor was ready to complete the first quest ever set out upon in Raltir. But first, it was time to eat breakfast.

END CHAPTER THREE PART ONE

Trevor was ready to complete his quest, but first, he was going to need to get under ground. He walked down a short staircase, and was faced with three door choices.
“Always choose what is right.” He muttered under his breath, walking into the doorway on the right. After going down two more staircases, he heard a gasp from behind him in the hallway. He casually whipped his sword along the floor, breaking it on his assailants foot.
“Drat!” He said, handing his sword to Trevor. Wait a minute! Trevor thought. This could be a trap… I only read the first fifty pages… He rifled through his carrying sack, finding what he should have read earlier… The other half of the Paper.

Marcel is in
A place guarded well
You could say it is three Underground
where the swords lie cooling

Do not enter
Through the door
Use the chute that
Curves towards down

Or face the consequence of
impatience for You
will soon Be in
Great, great need.

Just great. I am probably walking into an ambush right now! Trevor regretted his decision to press forward so quickly. His torch was about to go out, and he would have to call for help soon. He started walking back, then stopped… the left door… he ran up the stairs, back to the room with the doors in it. He opened the door on the left, and saw two things: A stair case leading down, and a slightly curved chute. He jumped in the chute, sword and shield (and head) first. He came out of the end, executed a perfect front flip, and landed on one knee in front of the first guard. WHAM! He destroyed his sword on the guards chest, then grabbed the guards own sword, using it to parry the attack of another guard. He tripped the guard who had locked swords with him, then broke his sword again, and grabbed the guards sword. He whirled around to face the final guard…Vanessa.

END CHAPTER THREE PART TWO

Without thinking, Trevor raised his shield, but Vanessa did not move her sword. Instead, she kicked Trevor in the shin, and as Trevor reflexively used his shield hand to cover the bruise, she swung at his hip. He parried faster than a bolt of lightning, and kick her shin before using his shield to knock her sword out of her hand. She lunged for it, but Trevor tripped her and pointed the sword at her throat. This was known as a hold, which meant she was not defeated, but not allowed to move.
“I have heard talk of war.” Trevor said, trying not to laugh.
“I too have heard such,” She replied, “as the steel cools.” Trevor found the other
three lines of the clue in each of the lesser guards pockets.

As the steel cools
Fools run away
Kings guard their treasure
Hunters become Prey

Trevor thought about it for a moment, that figured out what it had to mean. His father would be guarding his mother, and his father, “hunter” of Marcel, would become the “prey” of Trevor. Pretty clever, John, He thought to himself, as he walked down the hall toward the last section of his quest. Knowing his father, Trevor would probably have to figure out some sort of puzzle to get to the cooling room, and then he would have to fight his father, and his father would win, and Trevor would have wasted two days.
Oh well, at least I got this far! Trevor mused.
As Trevor rounded the next corner, he found his puzzle. A set of sixty-four tekrits had been set onto stone tiles, and the tiles could be moved around on a grid. One tile was missing, and each tekrit was part of a greater picture. Trevor would have to move each one into position, and then, only then, could he place the final tekrit, opening the lock, and therefore, the door. He spent the next three hours moving tiles, until he finally placed the final tekrit. The door clicked, and Trevor saw his mother standing behind his father. His father was sleeping! What luck!
Perfect. He does not see that I have set a trap for him! John thought, watching his son fall for his fake sleep. As Trevor was doused in milk, a wood sword was shoved beneath John’s throat.
“Do you yield?” Asked Trevor. John stared in disbelief at the dummy Trevor had used to rip the trap. Five young writers emerged from hiding places, congratulating Trevor at pelting him with questions.
“I yield.” John said, though Trevor could not hear him over the racket. It turned out that Trevor had solved the puzzle, slept and ate for two hours, then figured out what his father would most likely do. A trap was likely, so Trevor placed the tile right before throwing some hay bales in front of the door. By April 1st, a book called “The first Quest of Raltir” was in the library, several other quests had been started, and Trevor was once again bored beyond all reason.
The next morning, the four honest children returned, one of them bringing the dagger and looking like a beaten puppy.
“My mother fears daggers, and told me to return this.” She said glumly.
“Don’t be sad. Take these instead!” Trevor told her, giving her the sixty-four tekrits from the quest.
“WOW! Thank you!” She said, running off to show her other friends. The other three children, all boys, handed him their signed permission slips. As Trevor realized that these children might not fear science, he had yet another crazy (but good, none the less) idea.

END CHAPTER THREE

 

[mister-fett]

Four: Mistakes and Regrets

By Mister Fett

Trevor was wrong. The children feared science more than they feared wolves, and ran from him when he tried to explain his magnetic dagger. The encounter had started out with a friendly greeting, and a question.
“Hello, my young friends. How has life treated you?” Said Trevor.
“I’m okay. My dad loves the dagger, and asks if you could make one for him. He’ll supply the necessary steel, and a bar of silver as well!” Daniel, the oldest of Trevor’s four new friends, replied. He was an extremely bright young man, at eleven years old, he had written a book called “The journey of an ant and a bird” which had been very successful.
“Of course. Yet, I have something better than a dagger to show all of you!” Trevor said.
“Whatisit?” they all asked at the same time. Trevor just shook his head, put his finger to his lips, and led them to a room one level underground. As he opened a locked door with a golden key, one of the children bumped his gloves. The hilt of Trevor’s dagger flew through the air and connected with the blade, barely giving Trevor time to snap his wrist into position to catch the completed dagger.
“Black magic!” Screamed Jessica, the youngest of the group, at six years old. She was also the only girl in the foursome, but the boys feared magic as well.
“What is the meaning of this?” Daniel shouted.
“It is called magnetism! It is Science, not magic!” Trevor strived to be heard over the screams the children were emitting, and finally, he gave up and went into his room. He would never see those children again, and he may have just destroyed his own reputation as a God fearing man.
Trevor paced around in his underground storeroom, looking at the magnetic items he had wanted to show the children. A set of armor lay in one corner, the magnetic set Trevor had wanted to show them. A small tube lay on a table, a tube that could magnetically launch a small iron ball faster than the eye could follow at the press of a button. The armor was called Artron, and the tube was known as a swon, for scientific wonder. Trevor sighed as he re-locked the room, and headed up to the library to read a few Proverbs.


Trunix saw a small disk on the horizon. Finally, after only a few weeks of searching, he had found the food land. He knew it had to be the food land! What else could it be? First, I will loose the war wolves to destroy the people who eat MY food. The war wolves, yes! The war wolves from that kind man, Natas. (spell it backwards) The war wolves would prepare the land for Trunix and his people to eat to their own delight, whenever they wanted! Anything that survives the coming attack, thought Trunix, will be my slave.


Trevor winced as he read the ten commandments over and over again. “Thou shalt not lie.” and “Thou shalt honor thy mother and father.” Echoed in his mind like arrows. He had disobeyed and lied to his parents this year, and he may well have sealed the doom of Raltir as well. How had he been so foolish? Why? Who was he, really? Trevor did not want to think about it, not right now. He wanted to sleep, and then eat. And then sleep again, and eat again. Forever. As long as he lived, until planting season, and then he would plant, and till, and sleep. And eat.
As Trevor’s head hit the pillow, a dream began. In this dream, children and mothers were screaming Horrible creatures were everywhere, but all Trevor could see were their shadows. They were rending people’s flesh into tatters with their teeth, and their swords cleaved the Raltian army in two. As he sank back into peaceful sleep, he saw the face of a person who had just saved him from the largest of the monsters. It was that girl from the War!
As Vanessa’s head hit the pillow, a dream began. In this dream, children and mothers were screaming Horrible creatures were everywhere, but all Vanessa could see were their shadows. They were rending people’s flesh into tatters with their teeth, and their swords cleaved the Raltian army in two. As she sank back into peaceful sleep, she saw the face of a person who had just saved her from the largest of the monsters. It was that boy from the War!

END CHAPTER FOUR PART ONE

Trevor started regretting almost everything he had ever done. He regretted sending that boat, and ignoring that girl, and ever-even hearing about science. He just wished he could forget all about it. He got out of his bed, and took a walk down by the river bank. What he found nearly made him fall into the water. Crates of the bibles he had sent out to sea were everywhere coating the surface, and as Trevor jumped into the water, he noticed his mother standing on the opposite bank, shaking her head. He tried to call out to her, but she had turned her back on him and left.
As Trevor gathered up the last of the bibles, he tried to figure out what to do with them. After much deliberation, he stored them in his store room one level underground, along with everything science related except his armor. There were not many kinds of animal on Raltir, there were only sea turtles, birds, rabbits (hares), horses, and wolves.
According to Raltian history books, Raltir had been found and colonized by a group of Christians running from Arabs in 1000A.D. They had brought with them a large breeding group of horses, and the other animals had already been there. At first, the entire life of a Raltian had been nothing but planting, praying, and doing other work, until the time of James Wentworth. James had brought order to the land, only two years before the barbarian attack. After he saved Raltir from the barbarians, he became king. The Wentworth family had ruled Raltir ever since, and the people agreed that this was completely fair. When John became king on his 30th birthday, he used the crop theory to bring a flood of advances, literacy, prosperity, and military might upon the land. John had from then on been heralded as “John of Raltir” because the people agreed he was the best ruler ever.
I hope the people think I am a good ruler, when the time is right for me to reign, thought Trevor, tossing a rock into the river. It was a pebble, but it caused ripples all over the surface of the slow running river. So true, though Trevor. The smallest event in the world can change everything. If Trevor could change one thing, it would be sending that boat away. Trevor felt like the biggest loser in the God’s universe, even though God had given him a chance to be the brightest shining star on Raltir.
After throwing several rocks into the pool, and giving his life a lot of thought, Trevor made a decision. He would go out to the East, all the way to the coast, and try to find where the boat had gone. The river led to the East, but Trevor would ride his horse Ral-Mun-do to make the journey go faster.
The very next day, Trevor set out on his journey, wearing his Artron, and carrying Metrion in her scabbard. It was early morning, and most of Moosunia was either sleeping, reading the bible, or meditating on some sort of important decision. As Trevor led Ral-Mun-Do to the gates of the city, a guard spoke to him.
“Halt! Your father wants to know where you are going!” The guard shouted at him. Trevor simply jumped on Ral-Mun-Do’s bad, and replied,
“Gyah-ha-hen!” (Meaning “giddy-up!” in Raltinian.)

As the sun beat down upon Trevor’s cloaked back, the events of the past months flashed before his minds eyes. First, he had learned to be patient for the first time in his life. His father had taught him that by teaching him to smith a perfect steel dagger. Afterward, he had discussed with his father magnetism, a science that caused objects to attract and repel each other. He had asked his father why he should not send anything to the outside world, and his father had explained it would endanger Raltir.
Hearing this, Trevor had made a new metal by using a volcano as a furnace, and a new armor production method using boulders. He had supplied the armies of Raltir with ultra-strong, ultra-light armor in three mere months. Then, he made the first of a long series of mistakes. He used the “great war” game as a distraction, so he could send a boat of supplies and bibles down the East river. He had ignored a girl he probably could have married by now, and then, to make things better, he had lied to his parents.
As if things could get worse, his mother had known he was lying, so how could things get worse?
Trevor kept on riding, making camp only when there was not enough moon light for Ral-mun-do to see. In this way, it took him only fourteen days to traverse the seven hundred miles from Moosunia to the east coast. Then it got worse.
Trevor looked on in horror from behind a rock as a fleet of ships released thousands of wolves onto the shore. The wolves were much larger than normal wolves, and they stood on their hind legs every once in a while. They ran as fast as they could… in the direction of Moosunia, following the river.

END CHAPTER FOUR PART TWO

As the shock of what he was seeing wore off, Trevor urged Ral-mun-do to go as fast as he possibly could back towards Moosunia. Trevor cried at his own folly, knowing that he was the cause of this was almost as bad as the fact it was happening. He prayed he would make it back to Moosunia in time, but doubted it would happen. As Ral-mun-do jumped over everything in his path, Trevor realized that the wolves would need to eat. Any and all of the rabbits Trevor could kill in the next three days would be crucial in helping Raltir survive this crisis. He began slicing the head off of everything that wasn’t a human or horse, and ended up throwing fifty rabbits in the river before making a fire ring around himself so he and ral-mun-do could sleep.
Trevor pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming the next morning. The wolves had made crude shelters for themselves! Trevor silently doused his fires, but could not cover the slight hissing sound his actions made. The wolves did not wake up, so Trevor mounted Ral-mun-do and raced off towards Moosunia. Hours later, as Trevor was building his fire ring, eight wolves made it into his camp. As Metrion reflected the sun, the wolves charged as a unit.
Trevor was able to jump over the leader, but as he whirled around to slash its head off, another wolf turned around and lunged at him. Trevor followed through with his blow, bringing his sword out of the demonic wolf’s neck just in time to stab the lunging wolf through the stomach. The other six wolves left him alone, and Trevor was able to finish his protective fire ring. As his journey continued, Trevor and Ral-mun-do sacrificed sleep for speed, and Trevor made his way into Moosunia two days ahead of the wolves.
“I must speak with my father!” Trevor said to the guard at the East gate. With relief, Trevor realized it was not the same one he had fled from more than two weeks earlier.
“He is in the library, studying scripture.” Was the guard’s reply. The library, at the center of Moosonia, was five miles away. Being on a horse, Trevor made it to the library in twenty minutes. As he dismounted, his mother was waiting for him. He tried to run past here, but she barred the way to the library with her arms.
“Trevor, please tell me you bring good news.” She said, disappointed with Trevor’s actions.
“Wolves that walk on their hind legs are attacking the city!” Trevor said, shoving his mother out of the way, and rushing into the library to talk with his father.
“Father!” Trevor started, but his father interrupted him.
“I already know.” His father said, and Trevor didn’t ask him how. It didn’t matter. Raltir was under attack, and it was John and Trevor’s mutual responsibility to protect their country, and their people.

END CHAPTER FOUR

 

[mister-fett]

Five: The dangers of kindness

By Mister Fett

“Father!” Trevor started, but his father interrupted him.
“I already know.” His father said, and Trevor didn’t ask him how. It didn’t matter. Raltir was under attack, and it was John and Trevor’s mutual responsibility to protect their country, and their people.


“Then you are prepared?” Trevor asked his father. His father nodded, and Trevor continued.
“Has Marcel spoken with you yet?”
“Yes. I know what you did, if that’s what you were asking. I only wish you could have told your mother last month. Our archers now patrol the walls all day and night, but I fear it may not be enough.” John replied.
“I only wish I could take back those supplies. They shredded the bibles without even glancing through them, thought the bibles were written in seven different languages!” Trevor exclaimed.
“Son, there is only one thing we need to discuss right now, and that is the eradication of this new type of wolf. Your armor is completely useless against them, but you should wear it anyway. I have selected three hundred men and women to accompany you a forward assault mission. You must leave today.” John said in a grim tone. Trevor nodded, accepted the written instructions John offered him, and walked out the door. His army would be waiting a mile outside of the East gate.
As Trevor mounted his horse, he heard his mother say “good luck.” Thirty minutes later, Trevor was talking with his army.
“This new wolf stands up on its hind legs when attacking. Be wary, for they can coordinate their attacks into large groups. They may be capable of using weapons!” Trevor said, as he briefed his group on their objective. He had stashed several hundred swons, along with several hundred thousand hollow iron balls in Ral-mun-do’s saddlebags. If worse came to worse, he would issue them to each Raltian soldier.
“Let us go now, and kill everything in our path that resembles a wolf!” Trevor said, slapping Ral-mun-do’s side with his right boot. Ral-mun-do charged, and Trevor’s loyal troops followed. Two Hours later, they came upon the wolves camp, and Trevor gave the signal to renew their earlier charge. Swords were drawn, and crossbows were armed, as Trevor gave a savage battle cry. Three hundred and one armored figures charged down the hill, and the wolves took notice.


Ignuit the wolf Captain sniffed the air, and noticed a blur of movement about half a mile away. He howled, and the War Wolves charged to meet this free food.


Trevor slashed at the lead wolf, tearing its shoulder from its body. Behind him, his soldiers were hacking away at the weaponless wolves, and in mere minutes, they had slain their opponents. It was then that Trevor noticed his mistake… most of the wolves had gone around his small force, heading towards Moosunia. Worse had come to worse, and Trevor gave his speech.
“Fellow Raltinians, the times are desperate. The objects I am about to give you are not magic, and I have not the time to explain myself. Place the small spheres into the yellow holes, point the blue end at the wolves, and press the red button!” Trevor ran down the line of soldiers, handing out swons and ammunition bags.
“For Raltir!” He shouted, chasing after the wolves, and loading his swon. (magnetic power projectile weapon) He fired, and wolf in the middle of the pack fell down, lifeless. Several other wolves converged to eat the carcass, but they, to, fell, fell to the superior weaponry of the Raltian cavalry. With the strength and bravery of the people of Moosunia, the wolves could be, would be, and had to be defeated.

END CHAPTER FIVE PART ONE

“Full gallop to Moosunia!” Trevor shouted as loud as he could. His subordinates echoed the order down the lines of cavalry, until Trevor’s riders were ahead of the wolves, and everyone was firing their swons backwards. Wolves began tripping each other, and by the time they stopped being hit by swons, the cavalry was at least a few minutes ahead. As the gates slammed shut behind the cavalry, Trevor handed out more swons and instructions on their use.
“You can put me on trial for magic use AFTER we save Raltir!” Trevor said to those who questioned him. Mere seconds after Trevor had handed out his last swon, the door began shaking as if possessed by a demon. The soldiers on East wall began raining down fire on the wolves, and many of the wolves fell before they broke the door down. Trevor was hiding behind a crate with two other soldiers, and as the door splintered into fragments, Trevor rushed out into the tide of charging wolves. He only got two shots off with his swon before they were upon him.
If Metrion were a lion that ate wolves, it would be very fat today. Seeing as it was a sword, though, it only got really really bloody. Trevor ducked as a wolf lunged at him, and fired at it over his shoulder while simultaneously slashing the forepaws off of another wolf. No Raltinians had been hurt yet, but that was subject to change. Suddenly, one of the wolves began howling. The other wolves began running into different doors, as if the wolf had just given them instructions. Trevor realized where they were going... the smith houses!
“They are trying to take over the smith houses on the Northern wall!” Trevor shouted. The entirety of Raltir’s army chased after the wolves, and several hundred of them never made it to their objectives. Despite their heavy losses, the wolves continued to run. An hour later, they had made it to the first smith house. Only five Raltinian soldiers went in after them. They came running out with two things: A Raltinian smith named Alfred, and terrible news.
“The wolves are fusing their right forepaws with swords!” Alfred shouted.
“Take this and stop them!” Trevor said, handing him a swon with written instructions on it, while at the same time loading his own.


“On the count of three. One, Two, Three!” Trevor said, and together, he and Alfred knocked down the door and fired at seperate targets. Trevor hit his wolf squarely between the eyes, and it fell into the furnace it was trying to use to make a sword out of its arm. Alfred hit his wolf in the solar plexus, and its body (WARNING: DESCRIPTIVE VIOLENCE) shattered into four quadrants.

There were still three more wolves, and they had already acquired swords. Trevor ran towards one, jumping off of an anvil, and launching into a frontflip/kick. He landed the kick directly on the wolf’s nose, stunning it before he raised Metrion towards ceiling through the wolves neck. As he kicked the horrible beast off of his sword, he glanced Alfred finishing off his own victim. Trevor made haste to finish off the final enemy, and as Trevor and Alfred exited the building, Trevor’s 2nd in command gave him the worst news in the history of Raltir.
“Sir! There are an estimated fifty thousand wolves bursting into the primary smith house, and they all will have weapons in less than ten minutes!” He said.
“Then we have no choice. I am going to use more science.” Trevor replied. He explained his plan to his four division commanders. He told them that they needed to plant four barrels of Makin, or gunpowder, in each corner of the smith house. Afterwards, they needed to link four fuses together into a primary fuse, and light the primary fuse on fire. All civilians needed to be cleared from the area. They could not win a real fight, and destroying their enemy all at once was the only real option.

END CHAPTER FIVE PART TWO

Trevor did not have very much time to complete his objectives. He had estimated the wolven army would be attacking in less than thiry minutes, so he had assigned four teams of four to plant the Makin. Ten minutes later, the Makin was ready, and Trevor lit the fuse with a match. Two barrels exploded, but the last two had not been properly fused with the primary fuse.
“Kill the wolven survivors!” Trevor shouted, running into the wreckage. He brought his sword down over the heads of two wloven soldiers, chopping them off in a swift stroke. He turned around, stabbing Merion into the back leg of a wolf trying to leap onto a Raltinian soldier’s back. Trevor pulled out a swon, and started pelting three wolves with it. They fell to the ground, and the world went dark for Trevor.
Trevor woke up seconds later, feeling blood, his own blood, on his neck. He rolled to the right just in time to miss his appointment with a wolf’s claws. Metrion was several feet away, and his swon had been lost. Suddenly, a human figure not wearing army clothing jumped out of an anvil cabinet, executing a triple arc slash in midair. The wolf stood still for a moment, and collapsed into thirds.
“What is your name?” Trevor asked as he grabbed Metrion.
“Alfred.” Said the man, swinging his sword into the guts of yet another wolf soldier. A wolven nose struck Trevor on the stomach.
“Sorry!” A soldier said, holding up a now noseless wolf head.
“Thank you Alfred.” Trevor said, giving Alfred a swon and insturction on how to use it.
“Pretty nifty toy!” said Alfred, firing over Trevor’s soldier to kill another wolf.
“Yup!” Trevor replied while in the middle of a upper-cut using Metrion’s ball-hilt. Alfred and Trevor fought for hours, before finally, the last wolf was slain, and the beginning of an immortal friendship had begun.


Vanessa fired her last swon bullet from the balcony of her home, then picked up her sword on dropped on top of a wolf from fifteen feet above the streets of Moosunia. That’s the last of them, thought Vanessa. She had been fighting alone for hours, having taken a swon thingy from a soldier she had seen slashed in the back of the neck by a wolf. Surprisingly, someone had jumped out of nowhere and saved him. Oh well, thought Vanessa, back to business.
Minutes later, Vanessa arrived at her mother’s variety shop. Her mother grew food, made leather products, and wrote books. Vanessa’s mother had taught her everything she knew: Swordplay, how to use an anvil, how to craft raw cowhide, how to grow food, and many other useful skills. Most of all, though, Vanessa just wanted to do something outstanding. She would not be allowed to join the army, thought, until she could pass the tests. She had not yet tried them, but she was planning on taking “the tests” by August.
The tests were a series of objectives that had to be completed in order. Wood swords and shields were used, and an army Captain would think of a physically and mentally challenging obstacle course for the applicant into the army to complete. Vanessa was worried Trevor would be testing people this year, if using swons, “black magic daggers” and Makin hadn’t already ruined his reputation too much.


Trevor ran back to the library to talk to his father.
“Father, I am sorry or what I have done. I have good news, though. The invaders are defeated!” Trevor said.
“No, they are not.” Replied John, surprised Trevor hadn’t thought of all the possibilities. He must be really tired, thought John.
“How can this be?” Trevor asked.
“Think about it.” John replied. Trevor thought for a while, and then answered,
“I see. The wolves were just the first wave of a long campaign, a campaign that will not end until Raltir falls. Still, the outsiders may be gone for some time!” Trevor said.
“Son, you still aren’t thinking. We now must spend every possible day increasing our armies, our defenses, and if we are to win this coming war, we must cure our people’s fear of science. The dangers of the world are great, the dangers of the mind are many, but above all, the dangers of attempted kindness can be dire.”

END CHAPTER FIVE

Please tell me of any typos, errors, confusing statements, etc.

 

[mister-fett]

Six: Reasons to Rejoice

By Mister Fett

Coming Soon!

 

[mister-fett]

Six: Reasons to Rejoice

By Mister Fett

Vanessa was very nervous. Testing normally took only minutes, especially when Trevor conducted the tests. They usually involved climbing something, balancing on something, fighting, and sometimes all of them at once. There were rumors that once, when Trevor was conducting a test, he said less than ten words to the person being tested, spent two minutes with them, and left. The person had done so well they were now a Captain in Trevor’s army.
Vanessa walked towards the army testing area. In front of her lay a long obstacle course, and Trevor was standing next to the course to time her.
“Go!” Trevor shouted, flipping over a one-minute hour glass. Vanessa ran as fast as she could towards the first obstacle, a large wall. She kicked at it with her spike tipped boot, and used her foot to vault over it. She landed in a mud pit, with razor wires one foot off of the ground in front of her. The stretch was ten feet wide, so jumping over didn’t seem to be an option…for a normal person, which Vanessa didn’t feel like right now. She backed up, ran forward, jumped… and cleared the wires by two inches. A tight-rope was in front of her over a pool of water.
“If you fall in, you fail.” Trevor told her. Vanessa just smiled at him, then started crossing the long rope. Suddenly, Trevor jumped on, signaling two guards. The guards threw wooden swords to Vanessa and Trevor, but this time, for once, Vanessa did not hesitate to strike when she caught her sword before Trevor did, leaving him defenseless for a split second. With an earsplitting crack, her sword broke on Trevor’s chest, and Trevor fell into the water.
“Excellent work!” He said, climbing out of the water just as she finished her crossing. Trevor tossed her a badge, and said, “Congratulations! … Captain!” Vanessa almost fell over with surprise, staring at the golden C on her badge.
“Thank you!” She said. Wow! Captain! Captains of Raltir’s armies were given a thousand men to command! Vanessa couldn’t wait to meet her new subordinates.


Trevor walked away from Vanessa, towards a smith house near the testing area. He wasn’t surprised Vanessa had completed the whole course in less than thirty seconds, but he was surprised she had beaten him in the tight rope fight. Trevor drew Metrion from her sheath. Metrion had been dulled from the wolf invasion, having clashed with so many wolven blades and bodies. Trevor entered the smith room, taking a magnetic bar of metal out of a hidden pouch. He heated the bar and Metrion’s hilt to white hot, then coated it with magnetic steel before sharpening Metrion. Although Trevor’s mass production methods allowed him to create similar armor for his army, Metrion was special to him as his first sword. After coating Metrion, Trevor took out yet another bar of magnetic steel.
With this bar, Trevor spent the next day coating a pair of gloves with two thin sheets of magnetic steel. The first sheet was attractive to Metrion, and the second was repellent. The two counteracted each other, making the glove act like a normal glove, but Trevor had been a genius in the gloves design. The second layer could easily be slipped off, making Metrion’s hilt fly into Trevor’s hand from up to fifteen feet away! This would come in handy if he were ever separated from his sword.
Father will love this! Thought Trevor as he mounted his horse and headed to his father’s rooms. As Trevor entered, John asked who was there.
“It is I, father. I would like to show you something!” Trevor said, trying but failing to hide the excitement from his voice.
“What is it?” John asked, turning around in his chair, the dominant object in the room.
“This!” Trevor said, throwing his gloves second layer into the air, and raising his hand above his head. Metrion flew from her sheath into his hand.
“Excellent. You used magnetism?” John asked.
“Of course. Now, if ever I am disarmed, it shall not be for long!” Trevor exclaimed.
“Yes, that is true. I have been researching James of Wentworth, and found a legend you may be interested in.” John said.
“Really?” asked Trevor. “I would love to hear it!” He continued.
“Alright then. It all started when a small faction of Moosunia stole some food supplies…” John began.


James stared down at the streets of Moosunia, now empty for fear of a rebel strike against Raltir. A famine was raging through the land, caused by the barbarian attacks. The barbarians had burnt many of Raltir’s food supplies, and stolen even more. Even after the barbarians had been repelled, rebel factions of less than scrupulous Raltinians formed groups and executed planned raids to satisfy their gluttony. Although it had never happened before, it was now NECESSARY to kill some of his fellow citizens of Raltir, although some people were saying that the rebels citizenship was forfeit due to their crimes.
James saw a group of three hooded and cloaked men, and he leaned over the balcony he was spying from. The men surrounded a market stall, and James, king of Raltir, jumped to the ground ten feet below in defense of the shopkeeper. The thieves threw off their cloaks, and drew their swords.
“Surrender now and I will do you no harm!” James said in a tone that rang with authority.
“As if!” The apparent leader said, charging towards James. James side-stepped his stab, then struck the offender on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. The man fell to the ground, and his companions took their shot at James. James lunged towards them, dong a front flip in mid-air. They stood shocked as he broke into a split just before landing, striking both of them on the head. James nodded to the shopkeeper, who was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, and walked away to find more rebels, though he hoped there would be no more.

END CHAPTER SIX PART ONE


“It took him month’s to finish off the last rebel faction, but he eventually did it, and found a way to stop it from ever happening again.” John said.
“How?” Trevor asked.
“He grew enough food for all of Raltir, and stored the rest in hidden and locked chambers for times of famine. He saw something that needed to be done, and should have been done earlier, and he did it. He built the first storehouse himself, and finally, no one needed to steal food because there was plenty to go around. James was one of the most selfless and helpful heroes ever to walk on the soil of Raltir, and my belief in this fact is strengthened every day, as is my belief in God as I realize how blessed we are to have been born here.” John said, smiling.
“Do you think the barbarians will come back to attack us yet again?” Trevor asked uneasily.
“I know they will. It may be years, maybe even a decade, for them to amass an army and a fleet, but they will come, and we MUST be ready.” John replied. Trevor nodded, and left the room to find his horse in the stables. He had maneuver practice with his army today.

END CHAPTER SIX PART TWO

Trevor had split his army into two groups of five thousand. He was giving Vanessa, the newest Captain, primary command of one half, and himself command of the other. Normally, a “great war” game was open to all, and occurred only every half decade. This, however, although using the rules of a great war, was training. Training to overcome the inevitable return of the barbarians. Trevor gave himself and Vanessa three hours each to organize their army and set up their positions.
Trevor split his army like so: Five brigades of one thousand, and each of those into ten companies of one hundred. He split those companies into five platoons of twenty each, and those platoons were split into four squads of five. Using this technique, His army could adapt to any situation, and his army could carry out a thousand tasks at a time with complete effectiveness.
Vanessa, however, had different plans. She simply decided to control one thousand soldiers, and chose four lieutenants to control the other four thousand. She then spent the rest of her preparation time to hide her army in a forest.

Trevor and Vanessa were in different places, doing the same things. Trevor was staring at his hour glass, and Vanessa was staring at her hour glass. The last grain of sand fell, and Trevor blew his signal bugle. Vanessa did a strange hand motion, and her troops copied her as they moved out into battle. Trevor handed paper orders to his commanders. Maneuvers practice had begun. Terry’s 2nd in command had orders to divide his men up into their base squads of five, and spread out to harass Vanessa’s main forces. The other three commanders were to hold back until Terry told them to enact their specific tasks.
Gabriel was Terry’s second in command, and he spread the orders to his men. Spread out like a lasso, and tighten it until Vanessa is surrounded. In minutes, Trevor’s men could see Vanessa’s men, but Vanessa’s men couldn’t see Trevor’s men. Gabriel blew his bugle, and his men charged. Gabriel encountered three of Vanessa’s least skilled soldiers, and quickly dispatched two of them with his shield. He then used his sword to finish off the other one…but the final soldier blocked! The two fighting men locked eyes with each other for a moment, and then Gabriel kicked the man in the chest and pointed the sword at his throat. The man yielded, and Gabriel gave him a nod of respect before continuing the battle.
Vanessa couldn’t understand how Trevor had deployed his forces so fast! One minute, she had been ready to charge towards Trevor’s main forces. Now, she couldn’t even tell what direction his main forces were hiding in. She heard several more bugles, and cringed as she saw a thousand soldiers coming from the North, South, East, and West. Her forces had already been taken down by around two thousand due to Trevor’s squad attacks, and now it was looking hopeless. It took only half an hour for the battle to end, and Vanessa was alone and surrounded.
“No! Said Trevor, motioning for the surrounding soldiers to back up a little. “Let’s see if you can beat me fairly this time!” He said to Vanessa.
The two combatants started circling each other, and Trevor feinted two quick strokes. Vanessa fell for neither of them, until she went into a triple swing strike. Trevor held out his shield, and she barely missed it. As her guard was down for a split second, Trevor easily whacked her leg. She wasn’t embarrassed, but she had still wanted to win.
“We did well fighting today.” Trevor said, “but we need to do better. I believe the barbarians do not use tactics, and we should always use the squads of five system. Agreed?” Trevor asked. All of his commanders and Vanessa’s commanders nodded. “Excellent. I will be back here in two weeks for more maneuvers. Army dismissed. Commanders dismissed.” Trevor said. He then mounted his horse, and sped home to Moosunia.


When Trevor arrived home, he was greeted by a riot. The citizens of Raltir were all screaming about how he was a dark wizard, with wands, and trying to give magic daggers to children. He yelled as loud as he could, but they would no allow him to explain. They screamed for him to be banished from Moosunia until he repented, and he yelled louder about science. They yelled even louder that he was a fake, and that there was no science. They then quieted down to debate whether John’s crop formula was science, and decided it was just God’s will that they have plenty of food. Then, they gathered together, and they used the mass of their bodies to push Trevor outside the city, as others among them quickly closed and locked the gates.

END CHAPTER SIX

 

[mister-fett]

I have made my story much easier to access.
Just go to www.freewebs.com/raltir to read it. I will also be adding some database stuff to it, and I will still post the chapters here as well as on freewebs.

 

[mister-fett]

Seven: Exile

By mister-fett

Trevor still had his horse, Ral-Mun-Do. He spent a week traveling to his volcano North of Moosunia, and set up camp there. He wished for someone to talk to! Anyone! Vanessa, Marcel, John, Alfred the Smith, even a talking wolf would have made good company. Trevor pitched his tent, and lit a fire ring around it, but not so close it would burn or get too warm. Exiled from his own city! How could this happen?
My own stupidity, thought Trevor. He had been careless when showing science to the children. He had been careless using and handing out swons, and he had been careless even mentioning makin. The people of Raltir had readily used his inventions, but only because it was necessary. How was he supposed to regain his reputation, and his trust? Trevor thought about these things as he went to sleep. He had been in exile for eight days when he woke up. His fires were smoldering, and he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He was running out of food, so he set some traps for the small rabbits that lived in Raltir. As he was preparing his fire ring again, he saw a lone horseback rider in the distance.
As the rider got closer, Trevor realized that it was Alfred, the smith who had saved him from the war wolves!
“Hello, Alfred. Come to see the exiled man?” Trevor said.
“Yes. It is good to see you in good health, your majesty. Your father said you might come here.” Alfred replied.
“My father?” Trevor asked.
“Yes. He was worried you might get angry and use your making on Moosunia. He knows your science is really just a… science, and he explained that to me. The people are willing to let you return to Moosunia, but only if you agree to teach them why science is not magic, and teach them how to use it themselves. They are finally being rational as they once were!” Alfred said.
“Excellent. We should start back at once, but it may take a while. I have set up some snares, we should take the prey from them and eat the meat on the way.” Trevor said, walking towards the first snare. Minutes later, Trevor and Alfred had mounted their horses. Life was going by so fast, thought Trevor. It seemed in only weeks, his life could turn around twice. He hoped it would stay the way it was now… with people accepting him, instead of fearing or even exiling him. As Trevor and Alfred raced toward the place where they would set up their first camp, they had an important talk.
“Alfred, what has happened in the week I have been gone?” Trevor asked.
“Many things. I should like to tell you everything, and I will. First of all…”


Alfred walked toward the gates of the city. He heard shouting and screaming, and started running to the gates of moosunia. He arrived just in time, or rather too late, and was forced to watch helplessly as Trevor was shoved outside the city and the gates slammed shut. What is going on? Thought Alfred. I must tell king John! He said to himself. He ran towards the stables, hopped on his horse, and was in the library of Moosunia in less than twenty minutes.
“My king, the people have exiled your sun Trevor!” Alfred shouted, bursting through the door of the king’s reading room.
“WHAT!!!???” John screamed.
“The people think he is a dark wizard, and have shut him outside the city!” Alfred reported.
“I knew this would happen! Good news, though, look here!” John replied. He was taking it pretty well.
“I have been writing an essay about science, and why it isn’t a magic art. If the people will listen, as they should as true raltinians, Trevor will be back on good terms with the people in less than a month!” John continued.

 

[mister-fett]

Please Notice: I have made a huge error in the introduction to Raltir. I said that Raltir was a perfectly circular island fifteen hundred FEET in diameter. I meant to say MILES and have therefore changed it. I should be done with chapter seven by May 20th.

 

[mister-fett]

I have fixed two more errors in chapter six, in two seperate instances I failed to define the word "they" before using it. My apologies, its fixed now.

 

[mister-fett]

Seven: Exile

By mister-fett

Trevor still had his horse, Ral-Mun-Do. He spent a week traveling to his volcano North of Moosunia, and set up camp there. He wished for someone to talk to! Anyone! Vanessa, Marcel, John, Alfred the Smith, even a talking wolf would have made good company. Trevor pitched his tent, and lit a fire ring around it, but not so close it would burn or get too warm. Exiled from his own city! How could this happen?
My own stupidity, thought Trevor. He had been careless when showing science to the children. He had been careless using and handing out swons, and he had been careless even mentioning makin. The people of Raltir had readily used his inventions, but only because it was necessary. How was he supposed to regain his reputation, and his trust? Trevor thought about these things as he went to sleep. He had been in exile for eight days when he woke up. His fires were smoldering, and he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He was running out of food, so he set some traps for the small rabbits that lived in Raltir. As he was preparing his fire ring again, he saw a lone horseback rider in the distance.
As the rider got closer, Trevor realized that it was Alfred, the smith who had saved him from the war wolves!
“Hello, Alfred. Come to see the exiled man?” Trevor said.
“Yes. It is good to see you in good health, your majesty. Your father said you might come here.” Alfred replied.
“My father?” Trevor asked.
“Yes. He was worried you might get angry and use your making on Moosunia. He knows your science is really just a… science, and he explained that to me. The people are willing to let you return to Moosunia, but only if you agree to teach them why science is not magic, and teach them how to use it themselves. They are finally being rational as they once were!” Alfred said.
“Excellent. We should start back at once, but it may take a while. I have set up some snares, we should take the prey from them and eat the meat on the way.” Trevor said, walking towards the first snare. Minutes later, Trevor and Alfred had mounted their horses. Life was going by so fast, thought Trevor. It seemed in only weeks, his life could turn around twice. He hoped it would stay the way it was now… with people accepting him, instead of fearing or even exiling him. As Trevor and Alfred raced toward the place where they would set up their first camp, they had an important talk.
“Alfred, what has happened in the week I have been gone?” Trevor asked.
“Many things. I should like to tell you everything, and I will. First of all…”


Alfred walked toward the gates of the city. He heard shouting and screaming, and started running to the gates of moosunia. He arrived just in time, or rather too late, and was forced to watch helplessly as Trevor was shoved outside the city and the gates slammed shut. What is going on? Thought Alfred. I must tell king John! He said to himself. He ran towards the stables, hopped on his horse, and was in the library of Moosunia in less than twenty minutes.
“My king, the people have exiled your sun Trevor!” Alfred shouted, bursting through the door of the king’s reading room.
“WHAT!!!???” John screamed.
“The people think he is a dark wizard, and have shut him outside the city!” Alfred reported.
“I knew this would happen! Good news, though, look here!” John replied. He was taking it pretty well.
“I have been writing an essay about science, and why it isn’t a magic art. If the people will listen, as they should as true raltinians, Trevor will be back on good terms with the people in less than a month!” John continued.
“Excellent Sire!” Alfred exclaimed.
“There is one problem, though…where has Trevor gone?” John asked.
“I believe he has gone to the volcano to think, and probably make some new stunning scientific invention. He’s been known to do that, you know.” Alfred replied.
“I see. Would you mind telling him it is safe to come back now? I know that is no small task, but it would be very helpful.” John requested.
“Of course I will tell him he can come back! He is my friend, after all!” Alfred said. John nodded, and Alfred left the room to find a fast horse, a swon that had not been destroyed as a “wand” and a nice, big, shiny sword. He quickly found these items, and left the city at a comfortable trot.


“For the first three days, my journey was uneventful.” Alfred said to Trevor as they were journeying back to Moosunia. “Unfortunately, on the fourth day, I was, of course, attacked by the only dangerous animal in these lands. Wolves. There were quite a few, I tell you. Would you like to hear about how I vanquished them?” He continued.
“Sure. We don’t have much else to do anyway, journeying back to Raltir. By the way, Alfred…thanks for telling me it was safe to come back.” Trevor replied.

END CHAPTER SEVEN PART ONE


It had four days since Alfred had left Raltir, and riding towards a volcano that didn’t seem to get any bigger no matter how long you traveled toward was getting quite boring, so a pack of several dozen wolves was almost a welcome surprise to relieve the monotony. Almost. Alfred unsheathed his large, shiny sword, and proceeded to lop the head off of the lead wolf. Three more lunged at him as a unit, and he ducked under them, almost falling off of his horse. Almost. Alfred almost wished wolves weren’t so stupid as to be no challenge to fight against. Almost. The three wolves had turned around to face him, and two more were preparing a lethal attack for Alfred. Quickly and calmly, Alfred pulled out a four barreled swon he had made for himself out of four of Trevor’s swons. He aimed it at the first three wolves, and pressed three of the firing buttons. He turned…only to find the attacking duo within five feet of his face. Alfred drew his sword instantly after blowing one of the wolves noses off. He stuck the sword out in front of him, and the final wolf speared itself on the end. The remaining fifty or so wolves retreated in fear.
“It was not incredibly challenging, but I thought you might like to see this!” Alfred said to Trevor, taking the four barreled swon out of his saddle bag.
“Incredible! With this, nothing will ever be a threat to Raltir again!” Trevor commented.
“It is wonderful, isn’t it? Anyway, I thought you would like it. You may keep it. I have three more back at Moosunia.” Alfred offered.
“Of course I like it! Maybe in a month of two I can mass produce these as I did our army’s armour!” Trevor said, excited. The rest of the return trip to Moosunia was uneventful, until the pair of friends reached the city gates.
That’s when events started happening. Seven men were guarding the North gate, and they all had long swords made of Raltian steel. Trevor stared at them, trying not to laugh. What could seven villagers do to the prince of Raltir, the best swordsman in the army. The leader began to speak.
“Trevor of Wentworth, we have exiled you, and despite the foolishness of the other Raltinians, exiled you shall stay, or dead we shall make you!” He shouted.
“Don’t make me laugh!” Trevor shouted, spurring Ral-Mun-Do three times, very gently. Ral-Mun-Do got the message, and snorted at Alfred’s horse. Alfred’s horse nodded, and at the exact same moment, both steeds charged at the seven picket men, jumping cleanly over their heads and into the open North gate.
“Should we tell the guards about them?” Alfred asked as the horses slowed to a trot and headed towards John’s chambers.
“No. They presented no threat, and did not attack us. It was quite amusing, actually!” Trevor replied, chuckling. He spurred Ral-Mun-Do twice, and shortly arrived in his father’s chambers.
“Has anything happened since I left?” Trevor asked.
“No, but the people demand an explanation from you about science or they will make you leave again.” John said grimly. “I recommend that you give them one within the week.” Trevor thought for a moment, and then said,
“If you can send word for the people to gather in the center of Moosunia, I can explain and demonstrate tomorrow!” Trevor exclaimed.
“Good. It shall be done.” John said. “Now, I must get some rest. I have gotten little sleep since you were forced to leave!” He continued. Trevor and Alfred left the room, and Trevor rode with Alfred to Alfred’s rooms near the main smith house.
“Goodnight, friend!” Trevor said as he rode away towards his own rooms which were next to his father’s.
“Goodnight, friend!” Alfred said, finally getting some sleep after his hard journey to Moosunia with Trevor.

END CHAPTER SEVEN PART TWO

When Trevor woke up, all was peaceful, and the birds were singing their morning songs as sunlight streamed into his room. He walked down to the kitchen of his home, and put some eggs on his stove. Today he would have to go two meetings to explain science, and the first one would start in an hour.
After taking about twenty minutes to prepare and eat a breakfast of eggs, milk, and jam on toasted bread, Trevor went into his backyard area to practice with his swon. He shot targets from fifteen paces, twenty paces, thirty paces, and fifty paces. This took him about thirty minutes, and he hit every target he aimed at. He mounted Ral-Mun-Do and headed to an amphitheater on the eastern outskirts of Moosunia, arriving with five minutes to spare. It was time for him to explain…Science!
It took Trevor several hours, but he managed to explain the principles of magnetism, the force he used in his swons, armor, dagger, and sword. The people listened eagerly, and believed him because he was reasonable. Soon, every citizen of Moosunia began producing their own magnetic daggers, gloves, armor, and swords. No one else but Alfred and Trevor could figure out how to build a swon, though.
Trevor went to sleep that night knowing he was understood by his fellow Raltinians. As he slept, many suits of magnetic armor, swords, and daggers were being crafted. When he woke, the entire army of Raltir was equipped with swons, magnetic armor, magnetic daggers/gloves, and swords with magnetic hilts. There was a problem, though… none of the knights of Raltir could stand closer than five feet from each other, due to the repellent field of their armor.
This morning, Trevor was faced with the difficult task of telling the people in general about Trunix. He told them immediately, and published his statement in the library, and they took it fairly well. They understood his need to help the people of the world, and they also understood and were revolted by the reaction of the barbarians. Then, Trevor made a proposal.
“People of Raltir!” Trevor began. “You now know the menace that hovers over our lands! You know what is coming! Know hear my plan!” In response, the crowd roared their approval. “I propose we construct mighty fortresses on the coasts of the island, bridging the gaps on the rivers!” The crowd cheered again, and Trevor waited for silence. “These fortresses will be equipped with the most powerful weapon I have dared to dream of! The Swat!” To this, the crowd gave a mighty “huh?”
“Allow me to explain. The swat propels a horse-sized cylinder of metal, rounded on the front, towards the sea at high speeds. This will instantly destroy any enemy naval forces in the vicinity!” Trevor said. To this, the crowd cheered louder than ever before. After the cheer, though, was a question.
“Is this biblical?” A man asked. “Why do we, as Christian Raltinians, make weapons, and hold warlike competitions? Why do we keep an army, though we have had peace on this island for nearly two hundred years? Besides the wolves, I mean.” He continued. The crowd chuckled at the last comment, about the wolves. Trevor though for a moment, then gave his answer.
“It is because of what happened before the peace.” Trevor said. “You all know the legends of James, who was forced to fight the barbarians with a small force of men. Our armies stand ready to address threats like Trunix, though this threat came sooner than it should have. I apologize for bringing this upon us, but it would have happened anyway once our island is discovered. The great wars, and quests, are to keep us ready for what may come. Besides, quests are fun!” The crowd agreed with this, particularly the part about quests. They were fun! “Anyway, I have some science to study, so I will see you al later!” Trevor let, and the people mulled around for a while. Finally, most of the population went home to see if they could do something… scientific.
When and if Trunix came, he would be welcomed by an organized group of people… angry, well-armed, scientifically advanced people. People spurred into action by something more powerful than fear for ones life… fear for ones loved ones and homeland.

END CHAPTER SEVEN

THE CONTINUATIONS.

 

[mister-fett]

New material has been posted here and on www.freewebs.com/raltir -June 10th

 

[mister-fett]

I finally finished Chapter seven, albeit more than forty days late! Chapter Eight should come out before... lets be realistic this time... um... September. Hopefully sooner, but you never know. -July 10th

 

[mister-fett]

Eight: Trunix Strikes Again

by Mister-Fett

Trevor and a band of eight hundred soldiers were preparing to set out on a LONG journey to the Eastern coast of Raltir, so they could begin constructing the swat and fortress. Vanessa would be in charge of the army, and as always, John would take care of any disputes if any problems presented themselves. Under a clear sky, Trevor began his journey. Alfred was unable to come with him, as he had swons to make.


Trunix was ready to believe the war wolves had done their job, but first, he wanted to make sure it would be easy to live on the food land. Thus, he sent several thousand warriors to take care of matters, and report back to him. Each warrior was armed with a sword, shield, and club. After dropping his warriors off on the West coast, he left.


Two weeks after setting out, Trevor and his party reached the mountains of Raltir, and began precision blasting on the rocks to get the necessary granite for the fortress. Two hundred of the men were then sent out to acquire the necessary magnetic metals, and three weeks after leaving Moosunia, Construction on the fortress began. Then, all eight hundred men were working on the fortress, and it was finished an additional three weeks after leaving. Six weeks had passed, and the fortress was ready to fire the swat. Also, Trunix had arrived in Moosunia.


“So, how was your last quest?” David asked Samuel. They were both guarding the West gate.
“It went okay, I almost got tagged out by someone… did you see that?” Samuel replied. David leaned over the wall to look. Samuel was loading his signal crossbow.
“OH MY-!” David was cut off in mid sentence. He clutched his stomach, and fell over the wall. Samuel fired his signal arrow, alerting all of Moosunia to the dangers. Moosunia was under attack… and this time it wasn’t any kind of wolves.
Fifteen Minutes later, Vanessa and her troops were atop the West wall, swons loaded. On the other side of the wall, no more than fifty feet away, was an army of barbarians clothed in rough animal hides.
“KILL THEM ALL!” A soldier shouted.
“Yeah! They aren’t human! Send ‘em strait to oblivion!” Another agreed. Vanessa thought about this. What would Trevor do in her place?
“Ready!” Vanessa cried. The front line of Raltinians lay prone, the second line crouched, and the third line stood up.
“Aim!” The Raltinians coordinated to make sure they were shooting different targets. Vanessa looked over her soldiers, making sure no one was wearing anything magnetic that would interfere with the swons.
“Fire at will!” Ten thousand balls of iron rushed at the enemy, and more than six thousand barbarians immediately died. It was then that the enemy’s secret weapon was revealed… ten giant crossbows stood ready to destroy the outer walls of Moosunia.
“Send a messenger to Trevor!” Vanessa said. “Tell him Moosunia is under attack!”

END CHAPTER EIGHT PART ONE

A hooded and cloaked figure sped out of the East gate faster than the wind. He was carrying an important message, and if he was, it would mean disaster for everyone.
He had a two week ride ahead, and no time to slow down. His name… was Alfred. HE had two weeks to fetch Trevor. Vanessa hoped the army could hold out for a month, and if Trevor was back by then, all would be saved. Vanessa was sure she could hold for one month, but any longer… was out of the question.
Vanessa looked down at the bodies below, and at the weapons that could mean the end of Moosunia. There appeared to be at least fifty thousand enemies, and each of them had crossbows, swords, shields, clubs, and other things not yet known to her. Furthermore, they may bring reinforcements in at any time, and their giant crossbows could grant them access to the city at any time. Still, her own troops were raining swon fire on the enemy, and that evened the odds considerably. So far, only one Raltinian, the sentry, David, had died.
On the fourth day of the siege, The barbarians built barricades to protect themselves from the Raltinians deadly swons. On the same day, Vanessa attempted to forge a six-barreled swon, and she succeeded. Over the next week, she forge more and more of the deadly weapons, and taught here soldiers how to make the objects. On the thirteenth day of the siege, every soldier in the Raltinian army had a six barreled swon. Vanessa picked a group of five hundred sharpshooters, and told them her plan.
“We will charge through the gates and kill every enemy in sight!” She told them. Something had to be done before the barbarians could find ammunition for the crossbows. It was likely that they were making a stockpile of ammunition, probably five hundred arrows, each one fifteen feet long. When this stock was complete, Moosunia would have no chance.
Vanessa and her crew charged through the gates. Vanessa immediately spotted four targets, their backs turned to her. She took aim, and knocked them down one by one. The first fell silently, the second grunted as he fell, and the third one turned around before having his eye shot out. He screamed before he died, and Vanessa cringed. The last barbarian fell from being shot five-hundred times… once from every Raltinian soldier. Luck was with Vanessa, because the barricades the barbarians were using only worked to protect the enemy from being attacked from above.
Mervon of Treveston was second in command of the attack force, and he was charged with the task of destroying the ammunition stockpile. 100 of the 500 came with him, and they quickly discovered the ammunition was unguarded. They spread makin over each and every arrow, and set up a trail of more makin (gunpowder) for a fuse. They lit the fuse, and… (guess!) They ran like CRAZY!
Meanwhile, Vanessa and her group were making a small, small dent in the barbarians numbers. There was another reason for the attack, though… Vanessa wanted to scare the enemy into hiding, cause them to fear her and her troops so much that they would stop attacking, if they didn’t retreat. So far, she was doing a good job. As the attack dragged on for ten, fifteen, then forty five minutes, The Raltinian attack force finally withdrew, leaving behind a huge blast crater where the giant arrows had been, and hundreds of huge, semi-human bodies in the enemy camp.




(To be continued!!!)

 

[mister-fett]

(New information on website, more of chapter eight coming soon)
www.freewebs.com/raltir

 

[mister-fett]

Chapter Eight updated once again!
By the way, if you do not know what on Earth is going on, follow
This link

The Tale of a Warrior is about a place called Raltir, and the adventures of its prince, Trevor. This is a mixed fantasy sci-fi venture, and I hope you enjoy it.

I think it does a good job of working God into parts of the story.

 

[mister-fett]

I have recently added a game to the raltir saga. Simple web-based thing, but I thought anyone who reads the story might like it.

It can be accessed from either:

http://raltir.co.nr

or http://fett.co.nr