Sun Prophet Chapter 5-9

Here ya go. Chapter 9....or most of it anyway....

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Ravin felt like a different man as he strode confidently across to the doors of the Citadel, the castle that stood on the highest hill of Norforda. It had been over ten years since h had list glimpsed the place this close, and he was reminiscing as he approached it’s entrance, two very tall, thick, wooden, doors. Upon the centre was embellished a strange coat of arms, consisting of a lion, hiding in fear of a crowd of snakes. It was all in shining gold. The last descendants of the Royal Family of Norfor.

Several guards unceremoniously stood talking, taking no heed to the arrival of Ravin, and his guard, which consisted of two young recruits. Ravin was sure he’d be given some poor performers from the army, but was in no position to jostle for anything better.

“Excuse me,” Ravin said, aiming it at the group of guards. They took little notice, but one gave him a dark look and then continued their conversation.

Ravin, greatly annoyed, growled, “Are you going to lounge around all day avoiding your duty?”

One of men, a particularly butch one, stopped in mid-conversation and walked over, slowly, before sizing up Ravin, “What are you going to do about it?” and gave Ravin a hefty push.

Ravin was quick to act, and dodged to the side of the man, before delivering a harsh kick to the side of the man’s left knee, which gave a resonant crack. The man winced, but Ravin then followed up with a hefty kick behind the man’s knee and the guard dropped to the ground.

“A nobleman with balls. Very rare,” the man said, whilst on his knees, “Who is it by the way?”

“I’m the Earl’s son, Ravin,” Ravin replied with pride, “Are you going to let me in, now?”

They all gave shocked glances, especially the man who had pushed him, but they immediately stood to attention, “Sorry, sir. Didn’t know it was you.” They rushed about and called to the gatehouse to unlock the gate, and before long the screeching of the doors opening reached Ravin’s ears and he strode forward, to the familiar sight of the courtyard, with it’s fountains and cobbles.

I’m home at last…but to what reception?

The sun blinded his eyes as he took his first steps back into his childhood. It was reflecting off the many windows positioned amongst the stonewalls, and the bubbling water contained in the central fountain. Ravin had played there many a time, and smiled as he walked past, aiming for the reception door at the far side of the courtyard. He knocked loudly and clearly on the twin doors, which showed off the fine image of the castle with exquisite golden embellishing. The sound echoed across the empty courtyard.

There was a shuffling noise as a part of the door was removed and a pair of dark eyes confronted Ravin.

“My master is not taking visitors today. I dunno how you got through the gate, but I hope you’ll be smart enough to get off my master’s property quick before I get the rest of the guards to teach you a lesson,” said the owner of the eerie eyes, in a grumpy tone.

“Lost none of your humour, I see, Shamer. I assume your next joke will involve a sharp object of some kind protruding from my ribs as I refuse your request to leave,” Ravin replied, his insides dying to laugh. The old portly butler was as cantankerous as ever. His best memories of Shamer usually involved beatings of some kind. In all fairness he wasn’t a bad man, because Ravin also reflected on the times he had comforted Ravin form his father’s bad temper.

“How in Shas’er’s ‘oly name did you know I was called Shamer? Where I know you from?” said Shamer.

“My dear old Shamer, have you forgotten me after all these years? And I used to think your memory was impeccable, when you used to tell me those stories accurately every night,” said Ravin with a smile and a shake of his head.

“No…no it can’t be. You died a long time ago,” replied Shamer, sounding, if possible, even more ill tempered.

“Well I can assure you, I feel quite alive,” said Ravin.

“Alright, then, prove it’s you.”

“And how would you expect me to do that?”

“I dunno. Think of something,” said Shamer, his voice regaining some amusement.

“Just let me in, Shamer or I’ll smash this door down,” said Ravin, sarcastically.

“Alright, alright, calm down. Was only playing, young master, I’ll let you in,” and with that he slowly unlocked the several bolts and swung back the door.

The first thing that hit Ravin was how nothing had changed. It was still the same old receiving chamber it had always been, complete with his favourite painting, Fight of the Gods, which displayed the two rivals Shas’er and Nurvu battling it out in the heavens. It stood above the grand doors, dominating the room. Ravin had used to stare into the impressionistic strokes and dream of being a God and forcing his father to do whatever he wanted. Turning to his right he noticed the maroon furniture still stood unused, slightly more decrepit than it was before, against the fireplace wall. On his left were the desks and bookcases and Shamer’s small room he had occupied for the last half a century. Ravin smiled. I feel like I’m ten years old all over again…

“You gonna stand there all day? Either go in or out, don’t stand in the middle. You’re creating a breeze, and I have plenty more work to do,” Shamer said, returning to his usual tone.

“I missed you too, Shamer,” Ravin said, and laughed out lot for the first time in many months.

* * * *

As they walked up the grand staircase, occasionally greeting old servants, and new, Ravin was hit by nervousness greater than he had felt before. How would his father react? After faking his death all those years ago he wasn’t sure whether the old man would be angry, sad, annoyed or just his usual bland self. Shamer was leading him through the castle, but only because he liked to show himself as being useful, as Ravin knew the layout of his childhood home still.

It seemed like a life age, but they finally made it to the highest point and looked down that all too memorable corridors that led to his father’s private chamber. Ravin felt his heart almost smash out of his cheat in apprehension. It was a far different emotion to the usual adrenaline he had grown to love, and he much preferred the latter. Shamer left without a word and Ravin felt his hands begin to shake uncontrollably.

Why am I being so weak? It’s just my father…

He grimaced defiantly and began a slow, steady walk towards the door, which seemed miles away. His footsteps sounded to Ravin very loud, and realised his father would probably shout at him for disturbing him as he always used to. Some people never change.

But, before long, he was standing in front of the door, and he raised his hand to knock. Before he did, he hesitated. What? Why don’t I just go in? Stop being stupid…

“Come in, and stop waiting outside my door,” said a croaky voice. Ravin sighed. His father was so predictable. He twisted the handle and pushed it open.

And saw his father looking nothing like he remembered.

He was lying, looking very frail on his bed, an odd expression on his face. The room looked unused, without the mess that Ravin had expected. Papers were tidied neatly and no books were left on the floor. Ravin concluded his father must have been in bed for a very long time. He looks so ill…

“Yes, what is it? I’m not hungry, I already told Shamer,” his father said, straining his eyes as he spoke.

He doesn’t know who I am…

“No, father. It’s me – Ravin,” said Ravin after a short silence, and watched as his father’s expression turned from confusion to shock, “I’m home.”

Alright, I finally caught up with this story. This part's pretty good

. (Heh, Cacophony is too lazy to comment on all the parts she missed, though she did read them and like them.)

Anyway, I thought Ravin's reaction to seeing his ailing father was well done, and I liked the conversation with with Shamer. I'm looking forward to next part.

I don't have any overall critiscims so onto the pedantic, nit-picky stuff...

been over ten years since h had list glimpsed the place this

two typos: since he had last

Ravin was quick to act, and dodged to the side of the man, before delivering a harsh kick to the side of the man’s left knee, which gave a resonant crack. The man winced, but Ravin then followed up with a hefty kick behind the man’s knee and the guard dropped to the ground.

Go Ravin!

They all gave shocked glances, especially the man who had pushed him, but they immediately stood to attention, “Sorry, sir. Didn’t know it was you.”

They seem very quick to believe him. After all these years of thinking Ravin's dead, I would have expected the guards to be more skeptical about anyone claiming to be him. Of course, the kick in the knee might have been convincing

Shamer was leading him through the castle, but only because he liked to show himself as being useful, as Ravin knew the layout of his childhood home still.

Hmm.."to show himself as being useful" seems a little wordy to me. I think it might be stronger if you said "because he liked to appear useful" or something similiar instead.

It was a far different emotion to the usual adrenaline he had grown to love, and he much preferred the latter.

I think the to should be than.

He looks so ill…

I think this should be looked instead of the looks. Unless it's supposed to be Ravin's thought, in which case this sentence should probably be in italics

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