Chatterbox: Inkwell

Falling Acorns...

I've begun writing a story, and have decided that the only way I'm ever going to finish it is if I have some motivation, like you lizards encouraging me! Here's the prologue:

Five gnarled, twisted oak trees stood around the clearing in a circle, looking like sentinels, guarding the inhabitants of the sacred-looking place from harm. A faeru, his moss-like hair hanging in many small braids down his bark-like back, was speaking. “There was a vision in my Grove,” he began. “In my Herd, too,” interrupted a stag, his dark ivory-like antlers sagging close to the ground as he shook his head in sadness and, it seemed, slight disbelief. “I think the vision has been wide-spread,” a shadowed figure said, swinging down gracefully from one of the sentinel-trees. “H’raevar!” the faeru bowed his head in deference. “Welcome back, H’raevar,” the stag nodded. H’raevar, with his mottled and striped dark skin and his glowing, sparkling purple eyes, was rather inconspicuous, and the old woman sitting cross-legged in the center of the clearing, didn’t see him at all until the stag and the faeru identified him. “Hello, H’rae,” she smiled teasingly. “Hello, Lilliom,” H’raevar nodded to her. Then, he placed his hand parallel to the ground. A throne made of roots, branches, and dirt rose from the earth with a soft rumble, and H’raevar sat slowly. “I have come back,” he said in his low, warm, commanding voice, “to discuss this new vision. Is it a prophecy-vision?” The faeru nodded. “My seer, Vohm, had the prophecy-but he lost it. Indina bless.” He bowed his head again, then stepped back and sat down. “Thank you, Tellop,” H’raevar said. “Reeaq?” The stag, with his shining chestnut-colored antlers, stepped forward on graceful hooves. “You may already know this,” he smiled sadly, “but our seer died not a week ago. Our apprentice seer had to take up the mantle and the rope, but she is not yet very experienced. “I had not heard,” H’raevar said quietly. “My condolences, Reeaq.” The stag nodded. “So,” he concluded, “our new seer received the prophecy but could only remember the fact that she had it, nothing else.” H’raevar smiled sadly, then turned to the old woman, Lilliom. “Did you see anything?” he asked. “I thought you’d never ask,” she grinned. “I saw a tall Zlali, with light-than-normal skin, and empty white eyes. She was standing in the Zlali camp, but it was ruined and all the homes were broken.” Lilliom’s face grew stiff and sad, just remembering it. “The Zlali woman spoke, and I think it was the prophecy, but I’ve lost it, too.” H’raevar shook his head. “Do any of you know of a loner-seer who has the prophecy?” They all shook their heads, too. Before anyone could speak, however, a young man burst through the trees. “Lilliom, Tellop, Reeaq,” he gasped, “H’raevar. I bring news.” “What is it, Norrin?” H’raevar turned to the man. “A seer has been found, one who knows the prophecy. She lives in the Evver Mountains.” Everyone in the dark clearing sat up straighter, and H’raevar stood from his throne. “Where is she?” he asked quickly. “I brought her with me, sir,” Norrin bowed. He beckoned toward the trees, and a slim woman with milky-brown skin and dark brown hair stepped out, holding the end of a rope. At the other end of the rope was a tree-dog, stoic and calm. The woman’s eyes were whiter than the stars above, and swirling with silver mist. “Hello, your honors,” she bowed. “I can hear you, but I cannot see you. I apologize.” H’raevar’s face grew soft and kind. “Are you blind?” he asked. The woman nodded. “This is Jayllu,” Norrin said. “So, you have the prophecy?” H’raevar sat down again. Jayllu nodded. “Then, pray tell, do say it,” Lilliom sighed. Jayllu nodded again, obligingly. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, they glowed with the light of a winter sky. Her feet floated off the ground, and even the tree-dog seemed wiser and older. Lilliom gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Reeaq glanced in her direction, but then Jayllu began speaking, in an echoey, deep voice:

Darkness spreads,

Swift as dread.

Beware the one

Who will bring

This darkness to a head.

Then, look, for

The savior of our land

Will arrive through the

Eastern hole.

Brave of heart,

With royal birth,

Plant an oak

And rise

From the shaking earth.

There was silence for a long-lasting moment, until Lilliom got ahold of herself. “Jayllu is the Zlali woman I saw in my vision,” she breathed. H’raevar looked over at her. “I suspected as much,” he sighed. “Now, we must find this person the prophecy speaks of. I gather from the second verse that they will come through the Eastern portal. Let us decide what to do, my friends.”