The Apostasy

[Gwaimir Windgem]

As I suspected, my other stuff is evidently too uninteresting for the average person, so here's some narrative. I love descriptive writing style, and just finished re-writing this piece. I'm going to be taking it to a writer's group next month, and would greatly appreciate all constructive criticism of any sort.

The walls of the room were made from alabaster of glittering white, like fresh snow under the sun. Pillars shaped from silver, marble, and gold stood tall, holding the weight of the engraven roof. Candles scattered throughout the room kept vigilance, flooding the room with their golden light. A row of carvings, images of divine beings, saints, and holy symbols graced the walls of the elegant chamber.

In the center of the room was a table. Shaped from the finest gold, it was embellished with lifelike carvings of angelic warriors as they soared through the heavens, their wings spread and their fiery swords aloft. The golden carvings were engraved with such detail that the celestial beings seemed ready to take to the air and ride the winds on their righteous campaign against the forces of evil. On the consecrated table was set a small, square chest, shaped from fine mahogany, the edges covered with ornamented bands of gold. A soft, white light emanated from the chest.

As the golden candlelight danced about the chamber, the far-off sound of a low chanting could be heard from beyond a silver door. At the same time, the sound of a chorus broke forth, singing a hymn of worship. The sound of the chanting grew nearer, pausing as the source came to the door. The chanting continued in front of the door while the song of the heavenly choir came to a climax, reaching the pinnacles of the mortal voice.

The song and the chant both began to grow quieter, dropping to a whisper as the door opened without a sound, revealing a brown-haired man of middling years, dressed in a robe of pure white. The hems of the robe were decorated with holy symbols and runes of silver and gold. The edges of a black under-robe contrasted with the beautiful white of his sleeves. On his forehead was a golden circlet, set with a gem of white. A kamelavkion of the same snowy-white as his robe crowned his head, holy praise scribed onto the veil. Around his neck was a silver chain that ended in a medallion of angel-wings, set with a great sapphire. A prayer shawl covered his shoulders and upper chest.

As the hymn grew greater in volume, he began chanting again, his long robe sweeping the floor as he ceremoniously approached the chest. When at last he stood in front of the box, both chant and song ceased suddenly.

Placing his hands on the sacred chest, he murmured a benediction in an ancient tongue, and then slowly, reverently lifted the chest into the air, the chorus breaking out again in the background.

The man turned, walking out of the chamber with the same formal stride as when he had entered, the chest held before him. He walked out of the door into a second chamber, much larger than the first, reaching a hundred feet in length, width, and height. The domed roof that towered above was made of gold, supported by twelve pillars of marble, formed with the greatest of skill, and adorned with the fairest of gems. In the center of the room was a great, golden altar.

Gathered around three sides of that altar was a gathering of priests, their hands folded and their heads bowed in reverence. They were the chief priests of many different lands and nations, gathered in unity for a sole purpose. They had come to hear the Holy Law of Eltarn; Eltarn, the Elder God; Eltarn, the Creator of Lisman; Eltarn, the Supreme Power of Good.

The brown-haired man took his place at the head of the altar, holding the ancient chest up high. He lowered it slowly, finally letting it rest on the purified altar. Chanting in an ancient tongue, he reverently lifted the lid of the chest. White light flowed from the opened chest, flooding every corner of the room. Inside the chest were several scrolls, the source from which the fair radiance emanated. The priest, for priest he was, reached his hand reverently into the chest, and pulled out the first of the scrolls.

The light emitted by the ancient parchment was so powerful that none but the ordained priests could make out the words, and they could only with difficulty. One sole man could read them with ease, as if they were black letters on white parchment, and that man was he who now held one of them in his hand; Fallos the High Priest of Eltarn.

Reverently he unrolled the scroll; raising his eyes to the priests gathered around him, he spoke, reciting the ritual words, his voice low. “Do ye come to hear the Law of Eltarn?”

The priests responded as one. “Yea, High Priest. We come to hear the Holy Law.”

Fallos spoke again, his voice ringing clear throughout the sanctum now. “As ye have come, now listen; for the Lawgiving is begun.”