Chapter Two: Neath
Black Wind unconsciously drops his jaw upon suddenly hearing this mysterious old man, George Winston, speak in his language. “George Winston, you know Middle Tongue?” Black Wind is too flustered, so all he manages to get out is this.
“Mr. Black Wind, please just call me Sage George. Here we only go by one name.” Sage George laughs and then answers Black Wind’s question. “I assume Middle Tongue is what your language is. Listen carefully, you should hear that what we are speaking right now is quite a bit different.” Continue reading “Black Wind Chapter 2 – Neath”
Chapter One: Black Wind
Waking from a deep slumber, Black Wind opens his eyes. Looking around he notices that he is in a forest and has a layer of dirt and leaves partially covering him, as though he had been in this spot for a long time. Puzzled, Black Wind closes his eyes. How did he get here? Where is this? Why? Any time he thought too deeply about any of these questions, a dull headache gnawed at his consciousness. Deciding that was a futile endeavour, Black Wind stands up, brushing the dirt and leaves off of himself.
Next to where he lay is a thin black sword. Picking it up, a memory returns to him. This is why he was called Black Wind, because of his skill with the sword that was as swift as the wind. He came from a small village in the Middle Mountains, son of the village chief but long since feared throughout the whole continent as one of the youngest genius experts in the last thousand years. Continue reading “Black Wind Chapter 1 – Black Wind”
Hello everyone, this is Varler here. I’d like to say, thank you for visiting my blog. I’ll be posting mostly my fiction here for now, although who knows what’ll happen in the future. My first work is called Black Wind.
Please share my work if you think it’s worth sharing. Comment if you think it deserves your comment. And enjoy!
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