I Hope Taxes are Treating You Well Readers,
When I sit down to write something, unfortunately my head gets caught up in a cool scene I want to crank out instead of saying, "Hey, it might be a good idea to get a plot down first." Most of my fiction starts this way, where I have no idea where the story is going until it dawns on me at some point (maybe this is why I'm not all that confident in most of my books so far). Sooner rather than later would be preferable for that revelation, and I'm happy to say this one DOES have a plot; the bad news is there's only one chapter so far. The other bad news is this is not my main project right now, and who knows when the rest of the story will follow. The usual pitch for commenting on and sharing the post applies here, ready go! Without further ado, the first half of chapter one of The Academy (its really long first of all, and secondly I would be really sad if anyone wanted to steal this and make it their own):
The sky was piercing blue in the wake of the setting August
sun as sixteen year old Jeremy Eldonea climbed a small ladder in his attic room
leading to the house roof. He unlatched the small window and pushed it up and
aside on its hinges, the world around him suddenly exploding on his senses as
he took his usual spot on the thatched willows. The golden light danced through
his crimson hair and clear green eyes as he scanned the city. The dying sun
sparkled on the Yithaenian Sea as he reached for the small brass telescope at
his side to get a better look at the merchant ship coming into port.
The
name of the ship was sharp and clear in the looking glass as Jeremy said the
name aloud to himself; the Trade and
Commerce. He trained the telescope on the swarm of sailors bustling about
the ship, some going below deck to haul up supplies, others drawing in and
securing the sails as they flapped limply in the breeze. His view wandered
lazily until he happened upon who he assumed was the captain at the ships helm,
talking with a Yithaenian customs officer.
Seeing
all there was to see at port, he spotted the landing area across the city of
Vivacahn from where he now sat, and focused his attention there. Even as Jeremy
did, the sound of rushing wind filled his ears; a Quadrapeller flew close by,
on its way to the landing area. The strange- looking flying machines had only
recently been invented. It looked somewhat like a long, narrow wooden boat
attached to four mechanical arms, two on each side. On each arm there was
mounted something like a large umbrella, which spun rapidly, keeping the
contraption airborne. The umbrella- like propellers could be angled in any
direction by the pilot, giving it extreme agility in the air.
As if
to illustrate the machine’s maneuverability to any who might be watching, the
Quadrapeller pilot angled opposing arms in different directions, making it spin
gracefully as it slowly descended. Upon reaching the landing area, the pilot
pulled out of the spin and returned the arms to an upright position, making the
Quadrapeller hover calmly for a few seconds before six landing feet popped out
of its hull, and lightly landed.
Jeremy
saw the pilot exit the Quadrapeller first, exhilaration clearly visible on his
face even from Jeremy’s perspective. Several frazzled looking passengers
followed; one even started yelling at the pilot about the reckless maneuvers.
Jeremy chuckled to himself as he witnessed the angry passenger beating the
pilot with a cane before some policing forces restrained her.
The sound of footsteps on the ladder in his
room reached his ears, and he turned to see Ila Woodthorn, his best friend and
neighbor since childhood, climb out of his room and plop down on the roof
beside him.
“I’m
sorry you had to see my room, “Jeremy said sheepishly, “It’s atrociously
messy.”
“I
know; your father actually told me to tell you to clean it up!” they shared a
laugh for some minutes, and then both began idly searching the skies for
anything of interest.
A sleek
black freighter zeppelin, the Intrepid
as Jeremy read in the telescope, floated over the Jawbone Mountains behind the
two, and slowly made its way to a docking tower. Jeremy could smell the cargo
of spices it contained from the southern desert provinces of Ryashka and
Merdono. The sun had nearly completed its sinking out of sight, and twilight
began to take dominance. Jeremy and Ila sat in quiet contemplation for some
time until, on impulse, Jeremy asked, “Have you ever wanted to get away, Ila?”
“What’s
that supposed to mean?” she replied, genuinely interested.
“I mean
to really get away, away from everything you've known all your life, and
experience something else.”
“I
don’t think so; I love Vivacahn.”
“Are
you serious?” he asked with incredulity.
“Of course
I am; have I ever not been?”
“No,
but sometimes life here is too tedious, too much… sitting. I want to DO
something, Ila. All we do every day is listen to some teacher at the College
babble about life and how he thinks we should live it; its tiring. You’ve never
wanted to challenge the system?”
“Isn't
the system there to be followed?” Ila asked, now beginning to find this debate
engaging; she always enjoyed debates with Jeremy; she usually won.
“Sure,
but that’s not always a good thing; the system has a way of beating any
attempts people make at doing things their own way.”
“but
it’s a guideline!” she fired back, “some people don’t know how to make it their
own way, and so they need the system there to help them!”
“Touché!”
“Ha,
then I won!”
“No you
didn't.”
“Oh yes
I did! Whenever you say touché it means you can’t come up with anything else to
add.”
“Well,
I… why are you always right?” Jeremy whined.
“Because
I’m better at this game than you are.”
“Thanks
miss high and mighty.” The two held a straight face for a total of five
seconds, a new record, before bursting into hysterical laughter. Night had
nearly completely fallen, the moon taking tentative glances over the high peaks
of the Jawbone range.
“Oh,
I do have something to add, something that will win the debate for me,” Jeremy
said with mock contempt. Leaving Ila there on the roof, he
climbed back down into his room and returned quickly, carrying a heavy, red
leather-bound book and a lit lantern. He sat again and thrust the book in front
of Ila with gusto. The title,
Yithaenia
and the Surrounding Provinces of the Elder Empire, written in a faded gold
ink, could be made out in the flickering light of the lantern.
”Where’d
you get this?” she asked.
“The
library in the College. It has all the information on the Empire you could ever
want to know, all the provinces, their individual histories, everything!” he
finished with excitement. He grabbed the book back from her before she could
say anything more, and began flipping the pages furiously until he reached the
section on Ryashka. Slapping the open book back on her lap, he started briefing
her on everything of interest about the arid province.
“Did
you now Ryashka is the biggest silver exporter of all the provinces and it
deals with the highest crime rate and it contains the largest known desert in
the world?!” he sputtered out all at once.
Ila
would have answered, but she found herself feeling something about Jeremy she
never had before. She had known him and befriended him ever since they were
five, yet right at that moment, she wanted to know him, to really be with him.
She was continually lost when he glanced up from his description of Ryashka to
ensure she was listening, though she really wasn't. When he wasn't looking, her
eyes wandered over his fiery hair and slender face, and a faint smile danced
around her lips.
“Ila?”
Jeremy asked, “Did you hear me?”
“Oh,
sorry, I wasn't paying attention,” she said as she furiously chided herself,
“but whatever you were saying about Ryashka won’t really sway me; I still
prefer not to change.”
“Still
insisting you won?” Jeremy asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes,
technically you haven’t provided anything that could trounce my last
statement.”
The roof crackled as Jeremy leaned back on his
elbows, staring up into the void of black punctuated with stars and the huge
moon, searching for some good counterpoint. His gaze soon left the sky and
began scanning Vivacahn, now glowing from the light of hundreds of lampposts
and open windows. His sight continued past the city and over the Yithaenian
Sea, until he stopped, an idea beginning to form in his mind.
“What
if I could show you what I mean when I say ‘get away’?”
Her
face hardened, trying to keep up a stubborn attitude, “That would at least begin
to provide me with some tangible proof.”
“Then
you best keep up!” Jeremy exclaimed, running to the far edge of his roof,
throwing the book and extinguished lantern back into his room as he did. He had
already jumped from the roof and onto the wooden fence below before Ila could
protest. Jeremy silently ran the length of the fence and dropped into the alley
at its end, Ila on his heels. The alley opened directly onto a street. Jeremy
poked his head out slowly; the police usually didn't look kindly on anyone
breaking nightly curfew, but the street was empty. Only a lonely cat occupied
its cobble- stoned surface.
Jeremy again took off, turning down the left
side of the street while staying as short a time as possible in the islands of
light the streetlamps produced. Ila could only follow as closely and quietly as
she could; Jeremy would never stop long enough for her to catch up and ask
where they were going. He reached the end of the street, peered down an
adjacent road, and immediately grabbed Ila as she panted up behind him,
throwing himself and her into the shadows of a conveniently placed alley.
Ila was
about to ask him why in the world he had just flung them to the ground when she
saw a mounted Policeman emerge around the corner, and swallowed her question.
He was dressed all in black; even his horse was of the same color. A black
policemen’s cap sat atop his head. A long, thick trench coat covered him from
his neck to below his knee, where it met a pair of heavy leather boots. A shiny
black nightstick swung from a strap on his waist. He whistled a merry little
tune as he guided his mount back the way the two had came and turned the corner
at the other end of the street, but Jeremy dared not move until he could no
longer hear the officer’s whistling. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief and
looked around for Ila, only to find her there underneath him.
“Oh,”
Jeremy sputtered, “well this isn't awkward at all, is it?”
“Get
off me!” Ila half hissed, half giggled, giving him a playful shove. Once they
ensured no other officers were around, Jeremy continued leading the way,
wondering all the while why he had enjoyed having Ila so close to him in the
alley, why he wanted to hold her closer when her breath quickened with fear at
being discovered. This emotion was alien to Jeremy, all the more when he
realized he actually liked it, and thus it captivated him through the remainder
of the journey; fortunately, Ila never asked a question or tried to say
anything; Jeremy wouldn't have been able to give her a logical reply if she had
anyway.
After a time of winding through the streets, ever wary for
more policemen, Jeremy reached the city’s edge, scaling the sturdy stone wall
around Vivacahn and taking an old and worn trail through the thick evergreen
forest surrounding it. The trail he followed soon sloped downwards, and before
long Jeremy and Ila reached the coast of the Yithaenian Sea, and directly in
front of them, some 300 feet away from shore, was an island not much larger
than Jeremy’s house. Tethered to a tree leaning out over the water was a
makeshift raft, lashed together with thin strips of bark.
Breaking
the silence of their secret trip, Ila asked quietly, “Did you make this?”
“Every
piece. I come here to be alone sometimes; no one else knows about it.
”So you
use the raft to-“
“Get to the island?” Jeremy finished, “Of course. Get on.”
After some halfhearted resistance, Ila agreed, scaled the old tree, and lightly
leapt onto the raft. Though its structure looked flimsy, Ila was surprised to
find it didn't give under her weight, nor Jeremy’s when he jumped onto it as
well. He retrieved a long pole used to propel the raft through the shallow
water, and shoved off from the shore.
