My Fantasy Fiction (WIP)

[Tysyacha]

Dear Everyone,

 

If you read this, please post your responses and ideas! No title yet.

 

UNTITLED FANTASY WORK IN PROGRESS

 

How does someone become the “Chosen One”?

 

I don’t know, but there was one thing that I did know:

I, the lucky girl, wasn’t it!

 

The Chosen One had already been made known to us,

and as luck (or fate) would have it, she lived in our own

hometown! Our humble village had unwittingly raised a

hero. Her name was Lucia Goldenblade, and she was a

knight who could heal people.

 

Before you ask how I knew Lucia was the Chosen One

instead of me, I’ll tell you. There were four prophecies

written long ago, about what the Chosen One would do:

 

“The Chosen One will be mighty in battle.”

 

I wasn’t, but Lucia was, very much!

 

“The Chosen One will use two swords blazing with glory.”

 

I was only right-handed.

 

“The Chosen One will have the purest heart of anyone known.”

 

Not me!

 

Last but not least: “The Chosen One will save our land from

an unspeakable evil.”

 

Lucia hadn’t exactly done that yet, but she was getting

ready to. How did she know that she was the Chosen One?

we all wondered. Did Lucia suddenly decide that she was “it”

after years of sparring with her classmates in the Hall of Knights?

No! Our town elders were the first ones to notice Lucia could

heal people while none of her comrades could.

 

“The sign of a truly pure heart,” they said. “This means Lucia

is the Chosen One!”

 

I didn’t know for sure, but our elders’ guess was as good as any.

Lucia had always been very kind to the people in our town. Even

when some of them tried to give her rewards for helping them,

Lucia turned the rewards down. She said that helping her fellow

human beings was enough. I know that sounds preachy, but

Lucia Goldenblade was sincere. She once told me I’d do great

things, even though my combat skills were as sloppy as a pile

of dragon dung! She believed in me, and made me believe in myself.

 

My name is Tysyacha, after the number “1,000” in our language.

You can call me Tysy for short, or Syscha. My mother was a

poor farm girl, and she said I was the one-thousandth good

thing that had ever happened to her! That’s how I got my name.

When I was born, I was small and weak. That’s still true right now,

or halfway true. I may be weak and stumble over rocks and tree

roots, but I’m not so small anymore!

 

Speaking of things that aren’t small, I wanted to go on a long,

hard journey.

 

I wouldn’t go unless Lucia picked me, though. The trip was

only for three people.

 

Everyone in our town gathered in a huge line to tell Lucia

why they were worthy.

[Tysyacha]

When I got in line, there were five people left. Lucia hadn’t picked anyone yet.

 

“I’m Jove Sneakytoes,” said a spry, gray-haired Halfling. “I can backstab

any foe, and I can pick pockets, too. You’d do well to have a rogue with

ye to act as a scout.”

 

“Your point is well taken,” Lucia said. “I’m glad to meet you, Mister

Sneakytoes.”

 

“Please, call me Jove!” he laughed. “I don’t go for that high-falutin’

Mister stuff.”

 

“Very well. I need one more person to go with me, and there

are four more left.”

 

One of them, built like a fort, was an Ogre. “My name Bashgud. Me fight for you.”

 

Behind the Ogre, a man smirked proudly and said, “I’m Simon. I collect taxes.”

 

“Ah, a publican, then?” asked Lucia. “That’s a fine occupation, sir. Next!”

 

Next in line was me. I was so glad I wasn’t last! “My name is Tysyacha, or Tysy.”

 

“Tysy…Your name sounds oddly familiar. What will you do for us on this journey?”

 

“I’ll tell you great tales, and do a maid’s duties. Polishing armor, doing laundry.”

 

“I’m glad you’re willing to do that sort of work. Last in line—sir, who are you?”

 

“I’m Marcus Miller, and I think you’re the haughtiest knight in our whole city!”

 

My mouth fell open. Obviously Marcus, our town miller, hadn’t jumped

on the “Lucia is the Chosen One” bandwagon yet. My muscles tensed.

What would she say?

[Tysyacha]

“Why do you say that, sir?” Lucia didn’t sound angry, only curious.

 

“You say you’re glad that this Tysy will do menial work? Why don’t you do it?”

 

Before Lucia could say anything, I turned and told Marcus, Zamalchitye! Proch’!”

 

This meant, “Shut up! Go away!” Marcus’ face turned red. He stormed off in a huff.

 

“What did you say that for?” asked Jove. “Not that I’m complainin’, but he’s mean!”

 

“I wanted to show Marcus who had the arrogance,” I told Jove, and he laughed.

 

“Let’s see—a knight who can fight and heal, a witty rogue, and a

loyal apprentice. That makes three, and I need three people to go

on our journey.” Lucia smiled at us.

 

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “Wait, Miss—did you say an apprentice?”

 

“I certainly did. Your willingness to serve, even in the least of ways, shows that

you have a good heart. I’d like to teach someone else, a student, to fight and heal.”

 

“You think I could do it?” I was stunned. Why was she picking me above

everyone else? A hundred people had stampeded into the Hall of Knights

like a bunch of cattle for a chance like this! “I mean, I’ll try my best, Miss,

but do you really think I’m worthy?”

 

“In my opinion, it doesn’t really matter if you’re worthy or not, but

if you’re willing.” Lucia looked at me with her deep brown eyes.

“Are you willing to be my apprentice?”

 

“Of course!” I cried, still not believing my incredible luck. “But

why me—why us?”

 

“Out of all the people who came and said they wanted to go

on this journey, only the two of you, Jove and Tysy, were honest

enough to tell me your skills without bragging. Everyone else tried

to impress me, and tried too hard. They talked about the great

deeds that they’d done, or supposedly done. The lives they had

saved, and the poor wretches they’d helped. I believed some of

them, and thought others were lying. Nevertheless, I was looking

for honest people. Candid, who’d tell me who they were without

trying to make themselves look better. Congratulations, and

welcome along!”

 

Lucia shook hands with the two of us, her own hand covered

by a gold-plated glove. A gauntlet, people called it, and it

shone like the sun. I had to squint to see it!

 

“Excuse me, my lady,” said Jove the Halfling, “but what is this journey about?”

 

“The Chosen One was foretold to stop an unspeakable evil. That’s

our mission.”

[Tysyacha]

“Pardon me, but you didn’t say that the Chosen One would have any companions.”

 

Lucia smiled. “Sometimes even saviors need help. Are you scared right now, Jove?”

 

The Halfling jerked his head towards us. “Skeered? Skeered? I ain’t

skeered!” he cried. Seeing we noticed his worried look, Jove said,

“Well, maybe a little. Unspeakable evil ain’t the easiest thing in the

world to stop, so I certainly would be afraid!”

 

I nodded and turned to Lucia. “What would this ‘unspeakable evil’ be, exactly?”

 

“I don’t know, but that’s what I have to find out. The four ancient prophecies

never said what the evil was—only that the Chosen One would defeat it. I’ve

tried asking all of my teachers in the Hall of Knights, but they’ve said that none

of them know either. Prophecies are usually vague, but maybe these four were

written that way on purpose.”

 

“Great. So we’re going after an evil we know nothing about, just the three of us?”

 

“It seems that way. However, I’ve heard that the Wyrms might have information.”

 

Jove was confused. “Worms? What would a bunch of slimy, crawling fish-baits

know about an unspeakable evil that threatens our entire land? They can’t

even talk!”

 

“Not worms,” I explained. “Wyrms, with a Y. Also known as dragons.” Uh-oh!

 

“Did you say ‘dragons’? I’m not going on any trip where I’ll get eaten by dragons!”

 

*******************

 

Tootles for now! What do you think?

[The Doctor]

Not that this isn't great, but stories here have to be in the SW universe.

[stingerhs]

^^^^

yep. if the story doesn't change so that its in the Star Wars universe, i'll have to close the thread. sorry.

[machievelli]

read