The Flame of Youth

[Nate Hunter]

This is an old yet new story. I just went through these opening sections, and will share more of the story, though not all of it, on here. This is a completely original fiction based upon a fantasy world of my design. I hope you will understand that I can't insert story-breaking descriptions of some of the words in here, but if you are curious, I will be glad to share decriptions if asked.

I would like feedback on every aspect of this story. It is a fantasy adventure story, set in a military-style training camp. The particulars of this story are somewhat inspired by experiences I had, or dreamed of, at summer camp when I was younger. Anyway... please enjoy, and don't hesistate to ask questions or provide constructive feedback. The story has a long way to go, but it's one of my ultimate expressions of my ideas on paper, far more so than any fan-fiction will ever be.

[quote]

At the end of a dusty road, in the middle of a desert, there lies an oasis. This oasis has allowed for a self-sustaining military camp to be built, for it is actually a series of oases -- more than a dozen of them -- so well spaced that a thriving forest exists within the Desert of Yorugin on the continent of Atrusia. This forest is home to the most famous military-style camp on the world, Camp Black, where parents of all races send their children to learn.

"You behave yourself here Jason," said the man standing next to a cart. "I need you to promise that you'll keep Nethan out of trouble."
"All right, Dar," said the youth, his once blond hair turning brown as he grew up. "Still, I can't see why'd he'd want to get in trouble here. Or how."
"He has his ways, and a tendency to get caught," Dar laughed. "But make sure you don't get in serious trouble either, all right?"
"No trouble, Dar. After all, I have a friend here with me, right Tomodak?"
"That's right," said the orc, his otherwise clean skin gleaming with an oily secretion. The green was almost hideous, especially with the seilb, but Jason knew it was only a phase. Within a month, his friend would essentially have a natural armor, much like an insect. "I just wish that this stuff would harden faster," Tomodak said. "It may not look it, but it itches like I have a swarm of bludbugs biting me." He scratched at his left arm, dropping his heavy bag on the older man's foot. "Sorry Jason's father," he said as he watched the expression of pain. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It is no trouble, Tomodak," Dar said, lifting the bag. "But one would think you've a gelshrin in there."
The orc scowled at the mention of the sacred weapon. He took the bag, then laughed off the scowl, not wanting to reveal too much. "I just tried to get as much in there as I could." He'd made it look that way, leaving barely anything in his more manageable pack, so no one would get too suspicious.
As the group split ways, the next cart came up. A young woman stepped out, dressed in brown leather. Her auburn hair was bound back and a bow was slung over her shoulder. Her clothing was cut in a foreign style which Jason barely recognized. As she pulled out a trunk, he whispered to his friend.
"Tomodak! That's a Hellwood Elf! I thought the only people who came here were locals, not mainlanders."
"Ignorance, it must be bliss my friend," Tomodak said, shaking his head in mock disgust. With his two bags, he headed off to find their cabin. "Yew Number 2," he said, reciting the number from the card. Jason followed him, while Nethan, in a higher class, had gone on ahead for his cabin.

"That boy," Ferein whispered, holding her trunk on her shoulder. "I did not realize he would be here, else I would have come in another season." She shuddered, then looked once more at the card, reading it softly to herself. "Bunking is not based upon gender or age, but experience in the camp. Ferein Moonstar, you have been assigned to Cabin Yew 2. Your bunkmate will be Lurleya Kelwiin, a forest elf raised by Adin foster parents, who found her."
A young blond elf was approaching her, female by the looks, although dressed in a fashionably Julinian Adin style. She wore a single piece dress, and carried four bags, rather than a trunk or pack. Her hair was bound back, but in the braids of a farmer, not those of a huntress or a warrior, or even the style of a mage. Her eyes were hidden by the layers of shadow, but they weren't important to Ferein.
"Are you Ferein Moonstar," the girl said, a crack in her voice, and a glint in her eye.
[By the gods! This girl could seduce any of the men here!] Ferein refrained from her instinctive reaction, and instead held her right hand, which wasn't supporting the trunk, up to her chin. For a moment more she studied the girl, then simply raised her head, sticking the chin out slightly. "Who asks after her?"
"Her," the girl choked on the words, not knowing what to say. With a start, she gasped in some air, then gave a name. "Kelwiin. Lurleya Kelwiin."
"Am I to understand that you are Lurleya Kelwin?"
"It's Kelwiin," the girl said, emphasizing the long sounds. "Not Kelwin. And yes, I am."
"Yes, I am indeed Ferein. Shall we go to our cabin?"
Just a moment passed, but to both it seemed like an eternity. Lurleya picked up her bags, slung them over her shoulder, then headed off. Ferein, not to be outdone, followed just after the girl. "Swlm," she muttered, noting how Lurleya reacted to the men around her. [No wonder at her name. Why must I be caged with this seducer and that boy, with his strange friend? I cannot know, but I am certain the gods have a purpose to this, and I will find it.]
Neither spoke as they headed to the cabin, but both wondered who their drills master would be, and who else might be in their cabin.

As Nethan looked around, memories of his first year came back. [Yep, good ol' Yew 2. Guess there's no escaping it, after all. But, I'm a drills master now. Fourth years do get some nice privileges though, I never could've gotten away with no bunkmate the past three years.] The cabin was just as he remembered it - rickety double leveled beds, pillows filled with hay and stuffing materials.
Stashing his trunk and bag under the frontmost bunk, he looked around at how clean it was. "By the end of the month this cabin will be a mess. Let's see what kids I have under me though." He pulled out a list from the front box, and looked over it. "Great, the squirt and his friend are in here. Why do these things always happen to me? Hmm, Lurleya Kelwiin, a Wood elf raised by Adin parents from Julin

Reply

[Nate Hunter]

Begging pardon, but does nobody have any comments to share about this story? I know it has been read, and wonder why it may be that none of you are commenting. I'm sure that it cannot simply be so good that there is nothing for me to improve, and at the same time I feel it must raise some qestions within your minds. If you have any queestions or comments, please share them so that I can attempt to answer them.

[Guest]

Honestly, this isn

[Nate Hunter]

Great, an anonymous reviewer. I realize there are terms that are awkward, but I also know that sometimes a fantasy author has to jump into the story and damn the fantasy words. Context can give the meanings away, and I didn't introduce these without indicating their meaning.

Seilb, as indicated in the sentence prior, is an oily secretion, and as told in the sentence post is a toughening agent that gives the orks of Atrusius a natural armor. The wording on it is awkward in retrospect, but the term must stay. It is part of what defines my world to have these words belonging to the residents that are not of english.

The gelshrin, indicated prior is very heavy. Indicated post, it is a sacred weapon to the orks.

Bludbugs are the weakest word in this part of the story, as it's a clear combination of the terms "blood" and "bug", while context indicates they are a swarming creature which bites people and causes an itch.

Swlm is muttered in a bit of disgust and anger, and that context ought to show the association with the word by the speaker, if not the literal meaning. Most literally, it means "cursed to a position", or "cursed to be in a position".

Also, you comment on my rewriting a clich

[Nate Hunter]

The Flame of Youth - Prologue

The following is a prologue to The Flame of Youth as seen above. This summarizes the 8 years Jason has lived with Darmi and Nethan, and also introduces Jason and Tomodak. This particilar part is not exactly a chapter, but a prologue. I could if I desired turn it into several chapters, but I feel this is what's necessary to understand the core of the story.

[quote]"This is a desert," Darmi told himself as he strode through the harsh sands. The dunes and wind were strong this week, but his hobby and his intuition guided him. His hobby was cartography, and though his maps were never greatly reliable, at least they could give him enough guidance. His intuition was to follow the strange energy he had seen and felt three nights prior, out in the desert.
The energy had felt very powerful, but at the same time very faded. And the sight had been a brilliant azure blaze. The same color as many powerful magics and bright flames. He had left his son and wife at home, telling them he was going to investigate. And so, he had set forth with a pack of water, loose robes well suited to desert travel by day or night, and a week's worth of victuals.
He was now nearing the point where the energy had originated from. He could feel it in his bones, the traces of powerful magic still dissipating from the area. But it felt off, as if it were magic from another world. There was no way to quantify exactly how it felt off, simply that it was not the type of magic he had learned in his youth.

Jason shuddered in the early night chill. He only knew he had been lucky that his backpack had come through the transduction portal as well as he had. He also knew he was lucky to be near water, for his own supplies would not have lasted more than a day or two. In fact, had he use dthem, he knew somehow he would be out of them by now.
The child shook his head as he looked into the oasis. He knew the face there was his. He knew about the transduction portal. He remembered two names, Sara and Jed. But he remembered nothing else that he could assign importance to. As he looked across the face, he stared into his own cobalt eyes and sighed. He tried a smile. His teeth seemed a bit crooked, and two were wiggling about on the left side. "I'm Jason Knight," he said softly. It was all he remembered of himself that was intangible.
He was young too. How many years? Would it matter any longer? He thought about it for a moment before settling on a number that felt right. As he did, he looked up and saw an adult atop the nearest dune. He shouted greetings. Somehow he understood these were other languages, but not how he knew them. Finally he saw a flicker of recognition as he said "Salvete."
The man approached. He continued in the language he had gotten his response in: "Pax et bonum." Latin was understood here.
The man nodded. "Hima hort yi," he said.
Jason puzzled this. "Et tecum?"
The man paused. "Techi, et tecum. . . pueri."
Jason smiled. He didn't know that the language was thousands of years old, nor why to be shocked that this man would know it. The man pointed to himself now and said, "Chi ich dyn, kuchi menakh ich Darmi."
"Homines sum," the boy replied. "Dyn et homines generis sum?" His wording may have been awkward, but he spoke as he could. Somehow it felt off to him to use these words in this way, but it allowed him communication, even if it was only one way.
"Techi, homines ich dyn."
Jason smiled. "Chi ich dyn?" He paused and saw a slight nod from the man. 'Chi' meant 'I', 'ich' was 'am'. "Chi ich. . . Jason Knight."
"Salvete hi sayomin kolbu, Jason Naiyt." The man answered. They continued to discuss in stunted Latin small things.
"I am a human from the planet Gaea," Jason said. He didn't know much more. "I was sent here by a transduction portal. That is the word I know it by."
The man nodded. "I am of the Adin, my people once lived upon your world Gaea." He paused as Jason listened. When the boy felt satisfied, he indicated for the man to continue. "I will welcome you to my home, child, but there will be expectations upon you."
"I should accept," Jason said a bit weakly. He grabbed one of his bottles full of water, and took a great drink. Out of an unknown manner, he held it forth and asked, "Do you require water, sir?"
"Yes, but I have brought my own supply," the man said. "It is three days back to my home, child. Two if we make all haste."
"Thank you," Jason said politely. After the man had filled his water skins, he lifted the child and nodded. He carried the boy home, resting only as he absolutely needed it. Or so it seemed to the young Jason.

Within Darmi's home, the rules were not difficult. Jason was given access to a book on the tongue he had spoken as well as the one his host had used. He was given a simple instruction with this book. "Read and learn our words and speech," Darmi had said, his tone firm but soft. "My son Nethan will aid you when I cannot. My wife shall see to your clothing and housing, while I take charge of food while I am here. When you speak our tongue, you also will do chores here."
Jason had agreed to this first rule, and had studied day in and day out. Still forced to leave the house and run with Nethan, he learned to speak not only as the rules of latin applied to Adin, but as Nethan spoke it. Casual fluency crept over the rules until after four years, Nethan was a full member of the Hiro household, for he had learned that was their family name.
Within his first years, he met very few people, and only one had become impressed upon his mind. That one he considered a friend. He had asked to have him over on his anniversary celebration for the third year for they had become close friends over that year. Fluently he had reported at dinner:
"It has been three years since I arrived on this world. When I arrived I knew nothing of my past, and though I still know nothing before I came, I now have a life here. I have a family, and I have a dear friend, this ork Tomodak." Up to that date, all of his speech in front of his new father, Darmi, had been formal.
The boy was beginning to grow up now, but still had years before he was a man. Tomodak was near to his age, and seemed to be growing in the same ways. They talked and learned of differences between the cultures they lived in. Jason still used words unnatural to the ork and to his amily, but every day they grew fewer and furhter between them. All the more often he found that he simply replaced such words.
One day as he was practicing swordplay with Tomodak, each using wooden swords in the great yard, when he ran a mad dash at his friend in a desperation maneuver. "That is no way to fight," his friend said, grabbing him by the hair.
"That is the only way to fight, my friend. To fight but to survive is ignorance, and ignorance is bliss, my friend."
"Ignorance," Tomodak repeated softly. His shoulder length copper hair blew in the wind as he contemplated the words, and then he answered them. "You are too blunt, my friend. To be so ignorant of manners must be bliss, though, that you would risk such an offense."
From that day, Tomodak had adopted the phrase as he had said it. In spite of subtle corrections, he never changed how he said it. Always "Ignorance, it must be bliss" were his words, and it came to the point of a private joke between the two.

But today, on the fourth anniversary of his arrival, he was meeting privately with Tomodak. Today they remembered their first meeting. Darmi had taken Jason to the town market, and been teaching him how to select produce from the local farmers without showing bias to any one. He had taught him how to choose fine produce, favoring the farmers who cleaned their food before bringing it to market. He had shown him also how to choose a good cut of meat.
And then, as Darmi had gone to meet an old friend, he had left Jason with a group of young people in the school yard. Jason had not been eager to share his limited speech, but the green boy had approached him. He had spoken long about running and playing a game before he paused.
"You speak, do you not?" The green boy had seemed curious about the boy.
"I do not attend this school," Jason had said softly. He was nervous and the smells of the marketplace were making him feel a bit queasy. "Why do you speak to me?"
"Because we need another player for our cross match," the green one replied. His hair had been cropped short, clipped off at the top of his ears. "You know how to play cross, do you not?"
"No, I do not," Jason said, shaking his head. He only knew simple two person games from playing with Nethan. He could do catch or wrestle, he could even box a bit, and was better at it than Nethan. They didn't box much since that had come out clearly. He liked racing at the time.
"We can show you," the other boy said. "Oh, my name Tomodak. I'm sorry I didn't say that before."
"My name is Jason," Jason replied. He extended his palm, face out, and Tomodak returned the gesture of greeting. "I think that could be fun."
Tomodak had taken him over to the group, six other children of both genders. It turned out they weren't really playing cross, but a children's variation of the sport. They would run with the ball, passing it between players every dozen steps or less, and attempt to score. Each team assigned one player to protect the goal, and the other three per team played in the more active positions.
Jason ended up playing an active position on Tomodak's team. Tomodak took the center position, while a girl called Gelesti played Defense. The last offense position was a boy named Yasu was their other offense player. The only other name Jason caught was Rokita, the opposing team's offensive center player and team leader.
The game had been fun, and far rougher than even the hardest boxing matches he'd ever had with Nethan. The game had been called when Jason had to leave, and both teams offered a polite salute to the others efforts. Tomodak had headed to their house a few days later and askef for him by name.
Since then, they had grown to be close friends. And in that fourth year, they celebrated his fourth anniversary with a private boxing match in the rear of the house. It lasted about five minutes, with a pause halfway through, and ended with Tomodak drawing out of the match.
"You really are too good at that," Tomodak said. "I wish I were as good at throwing a punch. My eye will be bruised a good while from now." And it had been. It was bruised for three weeks, even with cold to keep the swelling from getting too bad.

Four more years passed. In that time, Jason began attending the local school as he could now speak fluently and understand the teachings. He picked the lessons up quickly, but his memories only came back in weak bits, usually connected to lessons. One day he remembered the faces attached to the only names he could remember. He had sketched them in his journal, but they seemed somehow wrong. He never was able to put his finger on the problem.
One day, early in the seventh year, Darmi had taken him back out to the oasis where they had met. Darmi explained that he could still feel the magical energies, and Jason had used a word he didn't even fully understand. He had then clarified it. "Machina. A tool using energy beyond magic. Do your people have such tools?"
"Machina?" Darmi had paused. "Yes, meghin