So I was digging through some of my old files, and I stumbled across this ugly rock of memorabilia. :) I found the very, very first completed novel manuscript I ever wrote, a 160,000-word fantasy called The Wings of Heaven. (In thinking back, I don't know why I named it The Wings of Heaven, since the story had absolutely nothing to do with wings from Heaven.) I wrote it when I was 14-15 years old, and I am so amused by it that I thought I'd post the very first chapter of it here. Could I have used any more adjectives to describe a man's eyes? No, I don't think so. See, folks? Nothing cures horrendous writing like practice .... or in my case, the end of my teenage years.
The Wings of Heaven
Chapter One
Winter seemed timid in comparison to his iridescent eyes.
The city of Mendu was obviously conquered, and yet even this could not bring the young Emperor to laugh at the sight of his victory. He waited motionlessly beside one of his colonels in the saddle of his black warhorse, whose hide gleamed with sweat beneath a blood-red drape despite the chill in the air. Around him the ruined, ash-grey streets of the city acquiesced to the multitude of soldiers that searched them for the last of the prisoners, who filed past in an ominous procession chained wretchedly together with ropes and wooden poles. Beneath the cold sunlight his eyes seemed to glint a moist teal.
"The troops have the palace sealed, Sir,” the colonel replied with a bow of his head. "If we're lucky, their king will still be alive by the time we meet him."
The young Emperor nodded in response as he shifted his gaze back to the prison lines. Somehow, the sight of them only proved to lighten his mood, and the edges of his lips tightened with the slightest hint of a smile. Strange, the way events had of turning around. He laughed quietly to himself and remembered the past.
The thought was pleasant in its bittersweet irony.
It took a great deal of effort for him not to sneer at the procession that trudged past his vision. Their tattered clothing heightened his black delight; despite the fact that most of them were monotonously drenched in mud and snow, he had begun to notice the faded silks and soiled collar-shirts of the prisoners. Careful to maintain his indifferent posture, he glanced at the colonel once more.
"Where are these from?" he asked, in the quiet voice his subordinates had grown to fear.
"The estates, your Majesty." The colonel had apparently caught the slight edge on the young king’s tongue and now glanced questioningly at him.
Satisfied with the confirmation, the Emperor gestured once toward the soldiers that marched on either side of the prisoner lines. One of them saluted and yelled a command down the convoy; immediately they all came to a clanking halt.
"My Lord?" the colonel asked respectfully.
"I wish to inspect the captives," the king responded before snapping his horse's reins and moving closer to examine the line. After a moment's hesitation, the colonel joined his side as well, motioning for the soldiers to clear aside at their approach.
Several of the prisoners caught the Emperor's attention as he stopped in front of them. One was a shivering woman, clad in torn finery and oblivious to the dried flakes of blood that marred her body. Her knuckles were unnaturally white as she clutched the hand of the little daughter who stood beside her, and her face looked up to the king’s with a tortuous mixture of fright and irrational hope, not comprehending that it was he who ordered the purge in the first place.
The young Emperor dismounted from his warhorse to question her. "What is your surname, madam?"
Her lips shuddered as she replied. "Nandesin, great Sir." The words cracked with fear in the wintry coldness and stumbled past her hesitant tongue.
The aristocrats. A flicker of recognition appeared in his stare before fading again. He nodded once and looked to her side, where an elderly man stood hunched in numb defeat. The young Emperor turned back to the woman.
"Your husband?" he asked quietly.
She could not nod in her terrified stupor, but the answer was evident in her face.
The king glanced down the line of prisoners, taking in their dress and positions. "How many of the upper class are here?" he asked the colonel, who had dismounted as well.
"Almost all, I'd say," he shrugged. "The troops rounded out large groups of people living in the same area. This would be the majority."
"I see." The young Emperor shifted his gaze across the procession before returning to look at the Nandesin aristocrat's small daughter. She stared emptily up at him, long past the stage of tears as manacles dangled heavily from her small wrists, making her appear more fragile than she really was. Her figure disturbed the king as he observed her sandy-yellow hair, now limp from her own exhaustion and fear, and her eyes, rimmed with darkness, which pulsed a dull olive. His gaze softened for an instant, then tightened with suppressed agony.
You hid for your life. I couldn't save her. You hid for your life.
His mouth constricted at the memory and he did not speak for a long moment. The prisoners, gradually noticing his hesitation, began to murmur in hopeful voices to one another. Perhaps they would be freed. Perhaps their king had surrendered. The Emperor would spare them, they whispered as the light returned to their expressions. He would spare them.
And then his eyes hardened into frozen jewels. He looked once more at the child before him, but her appearance failed to register his inner torment any longer. His face smoothed with a dangerous calm as he turned away, ignoring the confused expression of the Nandesin woman as he hoisted himself back into his saddle. The young king let his eyes sweep the line of captives before he straightened fluidly. With a nonchalant twist of his hand he pulled on the reins and began to lead his stallion away.
"Kill them."
The prisoners froze. Even the colonel blinked once as he looked quickly to his Emperor. "Your Majesty?" he asked, his face a picture of shock at the directness of his order.
The young king glanced back at him. "You heard me." He smiled thinly and continued to move away. "When you've finished, I want all of the citizens rounded up and the kingdom burned. There are to be no prisoners here." He paused, and emitted a single, humorless laugh. "Kill all of them, and the aristocrats with a dull blade. I want to be able to hear them miles from this city."
Shrieks rose from the prisoners as the soldiers hurried to carry out the request. The colonel turned also, his eyes pained as he listened to the screams from the women as their children were wrenched free of their grasps. He mounted his horse and cantered up to the Emperor.
"Your Majesty?" he asked, searching the calm face. "Are you going to condemn the entire population to such a fate? The women and children? They could be put to work, Sir. There are alternatives in this path that I urge you to consider."
The young Emperor looked at him with a hint of a sigh, and for an instant his features trembled. The winter sun made his eyes reflect an unrecognizable color under the light. "In any other city, Colonel." He shook his head. "Not this one."
They rode on, backs turned to the massacre they left behind.
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