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The Kingdom Volume 1
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Part 1: Raid of the Conquerors Chapter 1:
Derk was a Sharpeye. A very good one at that.
He was currently standing on the Traveller’s nest, a circular piece of wood thirty feet in the air with barely enough room for a blanket and a pillow surrounded by a short fence that reached up to Derk’s knees. Derek hadn't been able to sleep with his back straight for… how many days had it been now?
He looked at the wooden pole jutting out from the circle’s centre. He had carved a white line into it for every day he had woken up. It took him a few minutes to count the marks.
There were now a hundred and forty four.
A houndred and forty four lines… that made, what, three months and… six, seven weeks? No, that meant four months and… no, five months…
Derk massaged the space between his eyebrows. He had never been very good at math.
However many months it had been, Derek was sure that it had nearly been half a year since he had proudly climbed up the ladder.
Nearly half a year since he had left home.
Nearly half a year since he had made any human contact.
They had warned him about accepting the post… But he had watched for some of the toughest crews out there. The Wanderers, the Explorers, the Sailors… He had even spent a year’s worth of watching with the Searchers… But they were nothing compared to the Conquerors.
Captain Redfox… He could barely remember the man’s face. But he was sure that he would recognise that flowing scarlet beard anywere…
Captain Redfox had sent him up the ladder with a copy of his contract, bound with a thin, scarlet thread, and twenty percent down payment, which consisted of fifty golden schacks.
Just that twenty percent was more than any amount he had ever earned on a previous post.
Of course he had accepted the Conquerors’ ridiculous conditions, which stated that he read the contract after accepting the job.
After a two minute climb, Derk had reached the nest. There, he had found a white, fluffy pillow and a thick, red blanket.
First, he had immediately sat down on the pillow.
Second, he had felt the blanket’s texture.
Third, he had held the contract out in front of him, pulled off the red piece of string, and unfurled the yellowish, ancient looking text.
It read:
“This contract states that you have accepted the terms and conditions for being the Conquerers’ official Sharpeye.
The terms and conditions are as follows:
-Once you have stepped foot in the nest, you may not go down until land is sighted. Doing so will result in your death.
-Once you see land, shout “land” at the top of your lungs. Doing o before actually seeing land will result in your death.
-Breakfast, lunch and dinner shall be brought up to you every day. The price of food shall not be deducted from you wages.
-Five litres of water shall be brought up to you every day. The price of water shall not be deducted from your wages.
-You have no right to jump off the nest. Doing so will result in a painful death.
-You have no right to commit suicide. Doing so will result in a painful death.
-The total amount of wages that you shall receive is two hundred and fifty gold schacks. You shall receive twenty percent down payment upon arrival on the Traveller.”
That was it. No signature. Not even a mention of his name.
Derk had had an uneasy feeling that every Sharpeye received this contract.
It was then that he had sighed, pulled the small switchblade out of his boot strap, and carved a mark onto the mast.
That was a hundred and forty three days ago.
Since then, he was sure that he looked more rugged. When he brought a hand to his face, he could feel a thick beard where he should have felt smooth skin.
His hair had grown longer as well. It had already crept into his line of vision, and he could feel it tickling his ears.
His nails hadn't been a problem, though. Sure, they were uneven, but his teeth had kept them short.
His waste, fortunately, wasn't kept in a bucket. Sure, he empties it out in one, but there was a hole where he could pour it down on the side of the nest opposite of his bed. He guessed that it went down the inside of the mast and ended up wherever the ship’s waste went.
His smell, though, was a problem.
On some days, when fortune disfavoured him, the sun would stare down on him, angry and blazing hot. His clothes would absorb all the sweat that it caused him to make.
He had been tempted to strip off the garments, but had only went as far as taking his shirt off. He had an eery feeling that somebody was watching him.
Which they probably were…
Somebody was messing with Derk’s mind.
When he stuck his head out over the fence and looked down, he would see nothing but sea. When he looked to the left and to the right, nothing but water and sky would fill his sight. He could see no sails, no deck, no ship. He couldn't hear the everyday bustle which should have existed below him. The only thing he ever heard were his sounds and those of the sea.
It was as if nothing existed except him, his nest, and the sea…
No, that wasn't true. There was the food as well.
He wasn't sure how the food got there, but he guessed that it was a Teleporter’s work.
Whenever he woke up, there would be food beside him.
During what he guessed was noon, while he was staring out at the deep, blue sea, food would appear beside his bed. He wouldn't see it appear, but when he turned around, it would be there.
During nighttime, while he was a watching out for land, food would again appear.
Time and time again, he had tried to catch the food appearing.
He had yet to succeed.
Being alone for half a year did things to a man’s mind… for instance, he had started seeing apparitions and having conversations with friends that shouldn't have been there.
Or maybe that was just the work of the same person that had taken the Traveller away from his senses.
However it was happening wasn't important… the fact that it was happening was. Without those hallucinations, he would probably have gone mad long ago.
Or maybe they meant that he had already gone mad.
The thought bothered him. He didn't want to be locked up in an asylum when he got back home.
Derk wasn't sure why, but he sighed. Then, he continued watching.
As a Sharpeye, Derk could see further and clearer than any normal human being should be able to. He made a good watchman, but his power couldn't really help him in a fight. Though, it was pretty good at getting him far away from one.
As a child, powerless, jealous kids would beat him up. Or, at least, they would try to. Derk could see them coming from a mile away. Literally.
His power had helped him survive. It had made him money, let him see danger before it arrived, and also meant that he would forever be immune from glasses.
Today, it helped him get off the nest.
At first, he thought that the speck of land was just one of those nasty little eye floaters. He blinked, but it was still there. He blinked again, but it still hadn't moved.
He rubbed his eyes. Was this just another hallucination?
Derk kept blinking and rubbing for a couple more moments.
Then, it hit him.
He was seeing land.
His eyes opened wide.
His mouth did the same.
And, before he realised what he was doing, he shouted, “LAND!” at the top of his lungs.
And just like that, he could see the sails and hear the hustle and bustle of the crew once more.
Captain Redfox sat in his scarlet chair. In his left hand, he held a slip of paper. In his right, he had a revolver.
The revolver was aimed at nothing in particular right now, but it would soon be gesturing towards the crying man kneeling in front of him.
“P-Please sir,” the man whimpered, hands behind his head, tears streaming down his face. “Make it quick.”
This was how it worked with the Conquerors. If you were called in the captain’s office for treason, there was no asking for forgiveness. The only chance you had was to beg for a painless death.
“Quick, eh?” muttered Redfox, reading the name on the green slip yet again. “Kerple, your name has been written down on a green slip of paper, meaning that you have committed an act of third-degree treason. Mind telling me what you did?”
“I-I’m sorry, s-s-sir. It was just lying around, and I c-couldn’t help po-po-pocketing it, sir.”
“Ah, I see,” replied the captain, nodding knowingly as he spoke. Kerple was a thief at heart. Redfox had been waiting for this sort of thing to happen. It was a shame, he liked the lad.
“P-Please sir.”
Redfox sat, contemplating the man’s plea. Sure, he had liked the boy, but, that alone wasn't enough to give him a quick death.
Had the boy done any memorable deeds?
Redfox thought back to the day when he had first seen the boy on his ship. He had given up his share of food for a hungry companion.
Yes. That was why he had taken a liking to the lad in the first.
The tired, old captain gave a sigh.
He got up, and started to walk towards the door. Kerple stiffened as Redfox passed him.
Once Redfox had reached the door, his back to Kerple, he said, “I like you, Kerple.”
A spark of hope appeared in the lad’s heart. “Sir, does that mean tha—“
BANG.
The bullet went straight through the space between Kerple’s eyes, entering through the back of his head and exiting with a spurt of blood through the front. The boy’s hands fell from behind his head, at the same time that his chest started to fall towards the ground.
Red droplets decorated the green wooden floor.
Some saw giving false hope to those who were about to die as a cruel, heartless thing. Redfox, however, saw it as a sort of mercy.
It was a twisted ideology, fitting for a twisted man.
Kerple was the fifth of his crew that he had killed for treason during this voyage. How many more until they reached their destination?
That was when he had heard the Sharpeye’s cry.
Thx! I will, just need to get it done first...
FIRST CONTINUATION HAS BEEN POSTED IN THE FIRST COMMENT
SECOND CONTINUATION OF CHAPTER 1 HAD BEEN POSTED. THERE WASNT ENUGH SPACE IN THE FIRST COMMENTBeing a Guard was tiring. Not because the work was hard, but because it was boring.
Really, really boring.
Serl wished that someone had warned him before he had signed up for the task. He had been imagining days spent defending the Seaedge from pirates, slashing his mighty broadsword, shouting out orders, and manning a cannon, not sitting on a rock and sweating under a suit of rusty armour.
It wouldn't have been so bad if he had had someone to talk to, but there was only one guard on duty on a time.
Sure, one lone person in worn out steel wouldn't really do much against an attack, but the Seaedge hadn't seen any action for almost three centuries now. Which was why Serl had spent the entire day thinking about why he had assumed that Guarding was fun.
The Guard gave a sigh, the warm breath hitting his helmet’s interior and coming back to his face.
What to do?
He had already cleaned his armour (or at least, tried to), polished his sword (which was, fortunately, new), and loaded ten of the eleven cannons spread out straight in front of him. He was always tempted to fire one, but doing so would set off a false alarm.
He had purposely left the cannon closest to him, the one he called Sixtus, unloaded, just in case he got bored. Which he had.
So, Serl got up, lifted the bucket of gunpowder that was set down beside his favourite spot (which was a big rock he had named Rocktus), and took two big steps forward. He was now directly behind Sixtus.
Next, he put the silver bucket down, and pushed SIxtus forward. He kept pushing and pushing until he was sweating even harder than he was before, until he realised that the cannon was still locked in place. He released Sixtus, turned around, took another two steps back to his favourite rock, and picked up his guardbag.
The guardbag looked rather like one of those rectangular suitcases that businessmen carry to work, though, this one was made of steel instead of leather. Directly underneath the handle’s curved arc was a latch, which had a tiny keyhole. The key which would unlock this latch was always kept with the Guard on duty. The Guard (Serl), would then insert the key into the lock and turn it, thus unlocking the latch. The guardbag would now open into two halves, each one falling to the ground (which is why you should always open a guardbag vertically, and not horizontally, about the distance of a normal step in front of you, so that one of the halves wouldn't crash down on your feet). The handle would also separate into two, each of its halves attached to the top of each of the bag’s halves. Serl figured that unlocking the latch also unlocked whatever was holding the handle together.
If you looked at the bag’s halves from above, they would look like two big, silver keyboards with black, circular keys that looked closer to buttons.
Each half carried twelve identical keys. Both halves were replicas of the other, made so that if a key in one half broke, there would be another one in the other.
The first row of keys were labeled from numbers 0-5; the second 6-12, both from left to right.
Keys 1-12 would each lock and unlock their corresponding cannon, while key 0 would sound the alarm.
To unlock Sixtus, Serl clicked the key labeled 6.
The cannon unlocked with a sort of metallic chinking, much like the sound of two chains grinding against one another. Serl then took two steps forward, and again pushed against Sixtus. This time, it moved forward before he broke another sweat. He kept pushing and pushing, even when the cannon had reached the cliff’s edge, which was not sharp and sudden, but curved and silver and smooth. Serl pushed the cannon forward, its magnetic bottom sliding on the curved metal, until the cannon, until the cannon was facing downwards, its underside anchored on the metal covered cliff wall.
Now, a normal guard would have to kneel down, put the upper half of his body out over the edge, twist the circular handle on the cannon’s butt, pull on it until the curved half-oval of metal it was attached to came off with it, pour in the gunpowder, then replace the handle and twist it back into place.
Serl, unfortunately was afraid of heights. He had gotten used to looking down, but the idea of sticking his torso out over a hundred feet of air terrified him. Fortunately, though, he wasn't a normal guard.
He first scanned his surroundings. Nobody ever came here, but he was always cautious before doing this…
He pulled the iron gauntlet off of his right arm, which took some time, since Guard armour gauntlets went up to directly below the shoulder pad. Then, he slightly bent his back and stretched his now naked limb down towards Sixtus. Serl closed his eyes, feeling the world around him, not with touch or smell or hearing or any of the other five senses, but with the sixth sense that only he had.
Every piece of metal around him took shape in his mind. The cannons, the guardbag, the metal pieces within those two things, the iron pail and the metal within it, the metals embedded within the mountain which he was on, the thin sheet of iron hidden under the floor he was standing on, his armour… He saw them all through closed eyes.
He also saw the cannon, as well as its iron handle. He focused on it, sort of telepathically feeling it. Next, eyes still closed, he moved his hand, grabbing onto the handle. Or, at least, he was doing so in his mind. If someone saw him now, they would just see a Guard grabbing onto thin air and probably think him mad.
Serl twisted his hand to the left, the metal handle twisting along with him.
Twist, twist, twist—
There. That should do it.
Serl, still “grabbing” onto the handle, lifted his arm up. The metal moved up with him. After taking a deep breath, he suddenly flexed the muscles in his right arm. The handle flew to his hand, fast.
Serl always had multiple thin, metal rings and bands on each of his fingers, toes, arms and legs,. It wasn't normal for a boy, or a girl, even, to wear that much jewellery, so Serl always wore gloves and long sleeved shirts with pants around others.
When he activated his sixth sense, he could “see” and “feel” only metals and nothing else. He had heard somewhere that there was iron in blood, though he couldn't see it. The jewellery helped him tell where his limbs were.
He let his muscles go slack once the handle was mere inches away from the rings on his fingers. Then, while slowly uncurling his fingers from their grip, he simultaneously pushed them forward, keeping the metal afloat. He kept uncurling and pushing on his fingers until his hand made a backwards C shape, then, this time slowly, flexed the muscles in his right arm. The handle gently flew towards his open hand. Once it met his skin, he grabbed onto it, actually feeling it this time. After that, he opened his eyes and fell onto his knees, panting.
Using his sixth sense was tiring.
His face was wet with sweat. He hadn't even noticed until then.
After about a minute of heavy breathing, he got back up again, dropped the metal handle, and made his way towards the bucket of gunpowder.
He picked it up by the sides, using both hands, and poured its contents down into the cannon, standing the whole time. Quite a few specks missed their mark. He would probably be sable to pour them in if he crouched, but he felt steadier on two feet.
Serl then threw the bucket back behind him, closed his eyes, turned on his sixth sense, and did the opposite of what he did to pull the metal off the cannon. Within a few minutes, the cannon’s butt was twisted back in place, and Serl was yet again on his knees, panting and gasping for air.
Just a bit more to go.
He could either haul the cannon back up with the thick chain attached to its underside, or use his Power.
He chose to do the less tiring option, which involved him physically pulling.
Serl kept pulling on the cannon until he could pull on it no longer, meaning that it had come back into place. To finish up his task, he walked over to the guard bag and again pressed the key labeled 6. The cannon locked with a chinking of metal.
Discovering the way his Power worked was harder for Serl compared to other Powers.
Other Powers could go find mentors to teach them how to use their skills, and still live ordinary lives.
But Serl’s Power didn't fall into any of the three common groups. No, Serl was something much rarer…
He was an Abnormal, and he had heard what the government did to his kind.
So, he grew up hiding his Power, even from his parents. The only person he ever told was Klere.
Figuring out how to control the sixth sense had been tiring as well as painful. He would come home with plenty of unexplainable bruises after practicing when he still didn't wear rings or know how to control the lift speed.
However, through time, he had grasped the concept of his gift better and better. He was pretty good at controlling it now, though, he felt that there was still room for improvement.
Serl sat back down on Rocktus, waiting for the tired, breathless feeling to leave him. Once it had, he got up, pulled his gauntlet back on, and did a couple of stretches.
After that… he had nothing to do once again.
Well, he did have something to do.
Imagination was something a child used for entertainment… but, at seventeen years of age, Serl was still technically a child.
He drew his sword, pointed it to an imaginary pirate, and said, “Stand down, or feel the taste of my steel against your flesh.” The pirate said, “I’d rather rot in hell!”, and Serl had replied, “So be it.” He raised his sword and brought it down on his enemy’s head, so fast that the pirate could not parry. The sword sunk deep into his opponent’s skull, all the way down to his nose. Serl heard another pirate charging him from behind, so he pulled his blade out of the now split head, kicked the corpse back, twirled, and stabbed his attacker, piercing him in the gut. The pirate spit blood. Serl separated his head from his neck. It soundlessly tumbled to the ground.
The Guard then raised his sword and shouted “Man the cannons, men!”
Serl got behind Sixtus, and stared through its scope.
“Alright, men, get ready to—“
That was when he had seen it. He had not noticed with his bare eyes, but through the ship’s magnified glass, he now saw the ship.
It was big. Really big, and flew blood red flags.
“No way…”
Serl stood staring disbelievingly at the ship for a few moments more. Then, he ran over to the guard bag, and hit the 0 key.
The giant, rusty alarm bells started to toll, alerting every soldier in the Seaedge.
This book sounds great! Please post more! Stay insistent it will be epic once finished.
Keira (Cheeky Alpaca) wrote: "Wow...it's written so well! I'll get a copy when it's published!"Thank you!
If you like the story, please continue reading it in Goodreads' creative writing section. Don't forget to like, follow, and recommend the story to your friends!https://www.goodreads.com/story/show/...
Alright! I finally decide to pick up the pen (or, in this case, phone) up yet again!This one, though, isn't really the same thing, though. I'll be bringing back the characters, but things will be done differently... And hopefully better.
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
I'm working on an epic fantasy novel named "The Kingdom".
I haven't even finished the first chapter, but I'll be posting what I've written so far here.
Please honestly tell me what I could fix to spice the writing up *gets on knees and clasps hands together*