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"Saving Light" Chapter One By S.C. Lang

"Saving Light" Chapter One By S.C. Lang

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Published by Scott Lang

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Published by: Scott Lang on Nov 29, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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01/15/2013

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“Come to me . . .”The voice echoed in my head like a dream I couldn’t awaken from. I knew it was callingout to me, and I knew I would obey its commands, regardless of what they were. Following thatvoice had brought me to the Great Mountain, even though everyone knew traveling it alone wasa foolish and perilous business.My horse, Daisy, neighed in loud protest as she made her way carefully along the rockytrail. With each minute that passed, the path grew steeper and more hazardous. Thick greenweeds grew through the cracks in the dirt and vines snaked their way across the the trail makingit hard to distinguish.Dusk comes early this time of year, and with the darkening skies comes a brisk coldthat is relentless in its attack upon my exposed fingers. The dropping temperature, along withmy tiring mare and gathering darkness, should have been enough for me to find shelter for thenight. Yet, the calling of the voice was too insistent. Stopping was not an option.A thickening fog begins to swirl down from the summit of the mountain, and I wrap mywoolen cloak tightly around my slender frame. It’s a legend among my people that the fog is abringer of Death, and whoever sees it, shall also see the end of their life before the sunrise. Iaccept the arrival of the fog with an inner cold that rivals the plummeting temperature. I haveno desire to die, but will gladly offer up my like if the voice inside my head commands me to.Though I have faith that such a macabre command will not be forthcoming.I cannot escape the feeling that the voice belongs to Father, the keeper of everything,and I refuse to believe that one as benevolent and kind as Him would call out to me just todeliver me to my demise. Something in my heart tells me He does not work in such a callousor cruel way. Yet, this mountain is dark and dangerous, and the fog is pooling around Daisy’shooves.“Come to me . . .”Daisy neighs and nods her head as if she is listening to the voice as well. I pull thereigns bringing her to a stop as I scan my surroundings. Between the blanket of darkness andthe thickening fog, visibility is very poor. I pat Daisy on the neck in a reassuring manner, thoughit is my nerves I am trying to steel. “It is okay, girl. I trust you to find our way.”I am frightened now.Hearing the voice of Father, if indeed it is Father, is new for me. The people of myvillage had thought me strange and different since birth because of my visions, now I washearing voices in my head. My visions invaded my thoughts every day. In my mind, I could seein crystal clear detail the fates of those around me. I never asked for the visions, and Iconsidered them a curse, though my mother insisted they were a blessing from Father.My
blessing 
made me an outcast.Isolation might be welcomed for an adult who was different, however, for a child whonever understood what was happening or why the damnable visions chose her, the isolationtested my sanity. A sad smile spreads across my frozen lips as memories of childhoodtorments flood into my mind. There is nothing as cruel as the words of children, and I hadcarried the weight of their harsh name-calling all my life. That burden has now grown heavy, andI tire of owning it.
 
Physically, I was considered beautiful, though I felt ugly and disgusting on the inside.My raven-colored hair, long and silky, fluttered across my porcelain skin. My eyes, gleamingorbs of amethyst framed by thick dark lashes, constantly scan my surroundings for any sign of danger. My high cheekbones accept the bashing of the wind, and my nose is slender and longover full lips. My mother said I possessed an old soul, I never knew what she meant by thatremark. Sitting upon Daisy upon this dark mountain listening to the call of Father, I understoodit now. I was destined for greatness. And it was Father’s destiny that was singing to my soul.“Come to me . . .”“Yes, Father. I am yours to command.”His voice is much stronger now. It thunders in my head and pulls me in a direction that’soff the path. I shift slightly in my leather saddle and turn my gaze to my right. I lower the hood of my cloak knowing the moment of my destiny is almost upon me.I dismount and studly an opening in a group of sinister looking trees. I cannot explain it,but I know my destiny lies on the other side of that opening. Daisy neighs loudly and nudges mewith her nose in warning. She senses danger. Yet, all I feel is an overwhelming sense of peaceand tranquility. My entire existence has been about this very moment. I scratch Daisy behind her ears, something she has always loved, as I contemplate what awaits for me.“Come to me . . .”I know now what must be done. I, Abigail Hillsong, must meet my destiny. A cry of triumph and release screams from my lips as I charge boldly through the opening in the trees,and find myself falling over a cliff’s edge and tumbling to my death. . . .Warmth.Light.Peace.If this is death, it is very welcomed. I’m laying face-down in a sea of lush greengrass. There is no pain, no fear, no remorse. The air is calm and the intoxicating fragrance of honeysuckle and wildflowers fill my lungs. The gurgling laughter of a small stream dances in myears. I smile and push myself up to my feet. The scene around me is nothing short of paradise.Groves of perfectly trimmed lawns painted with colorful flowers and large sycamore trees greetmy gaze. Bumblebees bob and weave among the flowers, and a warm breeze caresses myflesh.“I’m home,” I say out loud.“Come to me . . .”“Father,” I call out. “Where are you?”“Look within yourself, daughter. Look where fear used to live and you shall discover theanswers you seek. You know where I am.”There is a soft swish of wind and a brilliant flash of golden light, and suddenly, a figurestands before me. It’s a man of advanced age with deep-set eyes and a long beard of purewhite. Long wisps of white hair billow out from a sand-colored hooded cloak. He’s dressed ina simple clean brown robe with a cord wrapped around His waist as a belt. His feet are bareand He offers me a soft smile. “Look upon, me, Abigail, and see the One that you serve. Your mortal life is over, this is true. However, your incredible journey to your true destiny has justbegun.” 
 
 
500 Years Later  
.“Come to me . . .”I glance skyward with a knowing grin as I mount my trusted warhorse to go meet mydestiny. On my finger of my gloved hand was
The Ring of Life
, a simple gold orb with anemerald green stone setting that glowed with magic. The ring was the power source for themagic-kissed sword that hung at my side. Together, they infused whomever wielded them withgreat fighting power. I had stolen them off the dead and rotting corpse of their rightful owner during a battle my liege, King Collin of Elyria, had summoned two summers ago. Now, the ringand the sword were mine. Perhaps that’s why the voice summoned me.“Come to me . . .”The midnight sky promises storms, but I care nothing about that. I am on a holy missionand I will not be deterred by anything, especially a little wind and rain. With a final check thatmy belongings are still securely attached to the back of my saddle, I spur my mighty warhorseforward with a quick, “Hup.”The voice of whom I can only assume is God echos inside my head like the hammeringof hooves upon a wooden bridge. At first, I couldn’t believe the Lord would ever wish to speak tosuch a cur as me; I’m a mighty fighting man for a ruthless King who loves his dice games, hismead and especially his tavern wenches too much to have a soul worth saving. My idea of solving a dispute is with a sword, and far too many people have felt the bite of my magic bladefor merely uttering the wrong words, or offering me the wrong look at the wrong time. I’m abastard, I’m supposed to kill in the name of my liege. I never worried about my soul, no man of war does. We all just assume the fires of Hades are our well-won reward for services rendered,and we all boast of how we plan on swimming in the flames with great delight when we finallyget there. Then God started calling to me; telling me to come to him. Me, Tragger Drake, thescourge of all Elyria, was being hailed by the Lord. The pull of His insistent calling overpoweredmy feelings of shame and unworthiness and I am forced to obey, though I have no idea whereI’m going. The Lord has something amazing planned for me and I will not disappoint Him again.I will follow His voice, trust in it to guide me to my destiny.“Come to me . . .”An hour later, lightning rips across the low clouds as the inky sky finally lets loose with acold, angry rain. The downpour devours me completely, chilling me to the bone in a matter of seconds. I tighten my wool cloak around my solidly-built frame and my steel-grey eyes scan myimmediate surroundings. The pelting rain, along with the lateness of the hour, make it difficult tosee very much. If danger is out here, it could be within feet of me and still be well-hidden. I drawmy sword and tighten my other hand on the reigns of my mount. He's a mighty beast, but hedoesn't care for the storm any more than I do. With my heels I spur him forward. The conditionsare going to shit in a hurry; soon the thin roads won't be passable. I feel the presence of Deathclosing in around me. I steal a quick glance to the
Ring of Life
on my hand, it's glowing a bluishwarning to me. I'm not sure if the danger I sense wants the ring or my magic-kissed sword, buteither will only be won by my death. My Lord has great plans for me, I don’t plan on meetingdeath tonight.

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Lou Riddell added this note
I'm looking forward to reading more. One of the most enthralling tales I have read in a very long time, my friend :))

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