When it comes to sharing my creative writing with people, I don’t like to do it. Sure, I have the same problem with posting news articles and editorials because I always seem to hesitate hitting the “Publish” button when it’s ready. But my creative writing? For the longest time I could never bring myself to do it. Mostly because I know it isn’t good enough for someone to read. Who am I kidding? I’ll probably never think my work is good enough for people to read. But, if I want to become a published author, then I have to share my work. So I present to you the rough draft of the first chapter of “Forget Me Not, Father.”
So here is my one-sentence pitch for this current work-in-progress and, if you’d like to learn more about it, check out episode 7 of the Knight Writer Podcast where I talk about how I came up with my one-sentence pitch.
Laura’s father is a war hero who has been cursed by a dark wizard to forget everything and now she finds herself in a race against to time to find the cure before the goblin kingdom launches an all-out invasion against her home.
Enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think about it!
Rough Draft: Forget Me Not, Father
Chapter 1
Laura stood in front of the wooden doors that led into the worn-down cathedral. It was the only place of worship in the fishing village of Barbate, located on the northeast coastline of the continent of Fistfall in the Kingdom of Murcia. However, a goblin raid 22 years ago had resulted in most of the surviving population abandoning the village and moving further up the coast to the coastal town of Olvera. The church itself was one of the remaining structures left standing in the village, repeating its history as, centuries ago, the castle that once stood on that same land had fallen, leaving the intact church as the sole survivor. Over time, the village of Barbate grew and incorporated the old castle ruins.
“You were two years old when the goblin raid happened,” her father, Davian Forsythe said as he walked up the worn, gravelled pathway. She watched him stride purposefully up to her with a determined look on his face. The morning light glinted off of his plate armor as he adjusted the pavise shield on his left arm while wielding a longsword in his right hand. He wore no helmet, his excuse being that he preferred to feel the wind in his brown hair and be able to see all around him with his brown eyes. His normally light-skinned complexion was slightly tanned since the two of them had travelled over 100 miles to reach the town. Word had reached them, while out on a training exercise with the Murcian Army, that a few of the remaining villagers had seen a cloaked person around the old cathedral.
“It was here, during the raid, where the Dark Wizard killed your mother,” Davian continued, his teeth clenched and eyes showing the pain he still felt after all this time. He finally reached the spot where Laura stood by the door and, as always, her father’s size made her feel small considering he stood an even six feet tall compared to her five-foot-six inch frame. Where he was broad and muscular, Laura’s body was lithe and toned: physical traits she had received from her mother. However, the color of her skin was a lighter caramel tone rather than her mother’s dark walnut color, along with jet black hair that she kept short, a small nose, and lips. But her brown, doe-eyes came from her father.
Size wasn’t the only intimidating thing about him. His plate mail armor, pavise shield, longsword, and red cape certainly made him stand out like a beacon. In contrast, her attire was more subdued as she wore boiled leather armor and a bronze muscled cuirass, while wielding a heat shield and gladius, both made of bronze. Normally a black hooded cloak finished the ensemble, but she had left it back with the horses because she didn’t want it to get in the way should they have to fight. Laura preferred to have speed and mobility, which explained her choice in armor and weapons and, unlike her father, she preferred to wear a Sparthenian helm, again made of bronze, which covered her entire head with slits for the eyes and mouth.
Laura pushed the helm back from her face until it rested on the top of her forehead, revealing her countenance. She began to unconsciously stroke a two-inch scar located on her right cheekbone as she stared at a bed of giant purple forget-me-nots. The flowerbed ran along the front of the cathedral, but, over time, the flowers had escaped their confinement to spread all over the area. It was the beginning of autumn and it was rare to see these flowers blooming so late in the year. Forget-me-nots had been her mother’s favorite flower and they were hers as well.
“She planted those shortly after you were blessed here,” Davian said.
Laura noticed that his gaze was focused on the door in an attempt not to look at the flowerbed. Her father never really talked about the time he spent with her mother. Sure, he would talk about her in general terms, but nothing substantial about his past. All her life, Laura had listened to him talk about how the Dark Wizard had killed his wife. He had become obsessed with hunting down the murderer and, over the years, had spent time tracking down any evil magic user hoping to find the one responsible for his wife’s death.
The large, wooden cathedral doors groaned as Davian pushed them open, letting the rays of the sun in, supplementing the shafts of light that were shining through the windows that used to have painted glass in the frames. Inside, the place wasn’t a big mess as one might have surmised considering what happened to the village. Most of the pews were still in place, though a few were broken or out of place, one of the few examples of evidence that a fight broke out here. The pulpit bore the scars of multiple hits from a weapon, as if someone had used it as a barrier between themselves and an attacker. There was some debris and clutter littering the floor, mostly stuff that would have blown through the smashed windows over the years. But overall, the place was intact, though the small amount of goblin skeletons laying around gave further evidence that a small fight had taken place here in this sacred place.
It wasn’t surprising that the skeletons of the goblins were still here. While survivors would have taken the time to bury their dead, before abandoning the village, no one would have bothered to bury the filthy Gobs.
Even so, no one had stripped the diminutive creatures of their armor and weapons, and it looked as if they had been left where they had fallen. The goblin raiding party had been outfitted with bronze armor and weapons. Not surprising, since the Goblin King would not have wanted to waste the iron and steel outfitting a raiding party that would eventually be killed, allowing their gear to end up in the hands of the enemy.
Would have been nice if there had been some iron or steel that could have been scavenged Lara thought to herself.
“Not going to find any,” her father said with a small smile on his face. He was well aware of her desire to get her hands on enough iron or steel for a slender smallsword. The only reason she didn’t have one made of bronze was that the metal was too brittle and a gladius would last longer. While his fighting with the goblin army would have provided him ample opportunity to collect the precious metal, Murcian law said that all iron and steel recovered was the property of the king. It was too rare to be wasted on anything frivolous and was reserved for the most seasoned fighters in the army and other war efforts. And Davian would never disobey the law. Not even for his daughter.
Despite what had transpired here happening years ago, she noticed that there were footprints going through the dust and debris and heading straight towards the back of the building. While she had little experience when it came to hunting and tracking, even she knew that these tracks had been made recently.
“I count six Gobs sir,” Laura reported as she continued to survey the room. Years of military training superseded her desire to address Davian as “father” and instead it was ‘Yes sir’ or ‘No sir.’ It was also a boon that it irked him when she would stay formal, even though they were on vacation. “And there are recently-made tracks heading towards the back. From what little you have told me, it was just the two of them who were in the chapel during the raid, correct sir?”
The subtle rebuke from his daughter was not lost on Davian who replied, “There was an eyewitness who saw the Dark Wizard and your mother run into this place with a large group of goblins chasing them.”
Her father moved to the back of the cathedral as Laura said, “But six goblins is not a large group. Where are the rest of them?”
At the back of the cathedral, hidden from view by a wall partition, was an open door frame where she got her answer. Unlike the front of the building, there was obvious evidence of a struggle here. More goblin skeletons littered the small hallway leading up to where the door used to be. The door had been obliterated, with some wooden fragments hanging off the hinges. Sunlight through the only window on the eastern side of the room gave enough light to see beyond the door, showing what used to be a small library that had been completely ransacked and destroyed. It appeared that the goblins had been looking for something once they had broken into the room with books torn open and thrown to the ground while the shelves had been completely destroyed. There were some tables off to the side of the doorway, most likely used to block the door to buy the occupants more time.
But for what?
Once again, though, there were tracks not belonging to them in the dust on the floor.
Purposefully, without even looking down at the tracks, Davian moved to one end of the room where a small brass sign was affixed to the stone wall, exactly where the footprints led to. Engraved on the sign were the words “NAM ET IPSA SCIENTIA POTESTAS EST.” Laura wasn’t familiar with the old language but her father didn’t bother to say anything. He simply went up to the sign and touched all the letters in the word “potestas.” As he touched each word, they lit up with a blue light and when the entire word was glowing, a section of the wall opened up with a gust of cold wind blowing into the room as it opened.
“How did you know that,” she asked, astonished.
“It took me hours to figure it out years ago when I shortly arrived back after the goblin raid,” he answered. “None of the survivors recalled seeing your mother after the goblins left after I found you alive, hidden in your grandparents’ house.”
Davian started towards the opening which was emitting a soft, yellow glow and quietly said, “It should have been more easy for me to solve, since it would be just like him to make such a mechanism.”
“What was that sir,” Laura asked, not sure she had heard him correctly. But her father didn’t bother to answer her question as he went through the opening. Quickly drawing her gladius, she followed after him, her thoughts buzzing at what her father had just revealed. She was finally learning more about what happened here and possibly what happened to her mother. Yet what she had just heard seemed to imply that he had known the Dark Wizard before the raid and the death of her mother.
What had happened here?
Through the opening was a spiral stone staircase that led into the bowels of the earth. A yellowish glow was emanating from two yellow stripes on both sides of the wall that followed the entire length of the stone steps. But before she had gone down a dozen steps, the opening closed behind them.
Down into the earth they went, descending down the staircase until it exited into a large room. Upon entering, Laura felt a shiver run up her spine and the hair on her arms rise. The sense of magic permeated the room. Up until now, she had rarely run into a wizard or witnessed one casting magic, but she recalled the feeling whenever she had felt it. And if this sensation running through her didn’t prove that there was magic in this place, she didn’t know what would.
The room itself, though large, wasn’t furnished with much. It looked like this was more of a guardroom. There were a couple of wooden tables and chairs, an assortment of now-empty weapons racks, a couple of bunk beds, and several doors leading off in different directions.
Davian moved through the center doorway without any hesitation. He knew where he was going.
“Sir,” Laura said. “You need to tell me what you know. I don’t like going into a dangerous situation blind.”
“For knowledge itself is power,” the words were uttered softly, though they echoed in the empty room so that she could hear what he had said. “Your mother and the dark Wizard came here when the goblins attacked. Though how he convinced her to come here instead of your mother going back to her parents’ house to get you, I can only guess,” he said more loudly though there was a tinge of bitterness in his voice.
“But both mother and you knew him,” Laura asked, fishing for more information as they left the room into a long hallway. A red carpet ran down the middle of the hall with paintings along either side. There were depictions of what appeared to be long-forgotten wizards, monarchs, and castles that she did not recognize. Though, she considered, one of the paintings could be of the castle that once stood where Barbate was located.
“Yes.”
The affirmation was grudgingly given and she knew, from his posture and response, that he didn’t want to go into any further details. So she changed her line of questioning, “What is this place?”
“According to him, this was a hidden location where a group of wizards and witches could study. They were led by a powerful wizard who created many of the rare and powerful artifacts in the world. At least those that have been discovered. This base is fairly large and contains sleeping quarters, libraries, and storage rooms among other areas I never explored. We are going to a room past the main library.”
Before she could ask any further questions, they had entered another hallway. On the left side were dozens of doors while on the right were just four doors. There were more paintings and the hallway was similar in looks to the one they had left. Halfway down the hall on the left, a door was open and a man dressed in brown leather armor was standing in the doorway, his back to them, with a bronze longsword at his hip. The faint sound of a weapon being sharpened echoed from the room.
“How much longer do we have to stay down here,” the man groaned. His query seemed to be directed to someone in the room. But as the question was asked, Davian was already running down the hall towards him. Despite his armor and weapons, there was no sound coming from her father. No sound of footsteps or clanging of armor. He was silent as a ghost. An impossible thing to do unless his armor was enchanted.
Which it was.
Davian had paid for the services of wizards and witches to enchant the weapons and armor. At least, that is what he told people. But that was not the real story. One that he had never shared with anyone, not even Laura. There was a spell of silence on his armor that negated any sound it would make while a spell made his armor and weapons lighter than they should be. This allowed him to wear his normally-heavy plate armor and weapons for longer periods of time and to move quickly as if he was wearing nothing more than regular clothing.
Laura had no such enchantments on her own lackluster weapons and armor. Her father would joke about it building character and that she needed to become used to the weight and feel of her outfit. Truth is, such spells were expensive and there were hardly any witches or wizards who were able to offer such enchantments. Even so, she had learned that the wizarding community had offered her father a fortune for the armor in the hopes of learning the secrets of its creation. But her father had said no and the magical community had not been happy.
Davian was only a few steps away from his target when the man turned around, his eyes going wide at the sight of the large, shining warrior bearing down on him.
“Intrud…”the man’s cry of alarm was interrupted as Davian’s sword sliced through his throat. But his cry was enough to alert the other person in the room. Echoing his now-dead compatriot’s cry, the man who had been sharpening a bronze scimitar, jumped to his feet, flinging the round table to the side, and launched an attack on Davian.
Laura reached the door shortly after her father had killed the second man with a thrust to his heart. “Sir, this is not a good place to fight if there are more of them,” she said just before some of the doors in the hallway started opening with armed men and women spilling out into the hall.
The hall was 10 feet wide, which meant that Laura and her father would be quickly surrounded and attacked from all sides. The group coming at them from both ends of the hallway were mercenaries judging from their looks. There was no uniform, just a collection of various hide and bronze amor and armed with bronze longswords, a few shortswords, and there were two men with bows. Though there wasn’t a single shield among them. Overall, she counted a dozen armed assailants bearing down on them.
There wasn’t much choice, they would have to fall back into the room and force their attackers to come at them one at a time. To stay in the hallway would make it easier to be overwhelmed by the enemy’s numbers or risk getting shot by an arrow.
But as Laura started towards the open door, Davian muttered, “We don’t have time for this” and charged towards the larger group from the side of the hall that Laura and her father had come from.
“Sir,” she exclaimed. But he wasn’t listening to her.
“Stubborn old Gob,” Laura said as she turned towards the opposite end of the hallway where only two swordsmen and an archer were charging her. But before the swordsmen could get any closer, she felt a blast of hot air from behind her. Her attackers had stopped and were now looking in wide-eyed astonishment past her. She risked a glance behind as she moved back to take shelter within the doorframe and saw all nine of the attackers on the ground, several of them on fire who been in front of the rest. She had heard the stories that her father, over the past ten years, had magic and it was only last year when she had witnessed what he could do with her own eyes.
Suddenly, he was within the mercenaries’ midst, stabbing downwards at those who were still on the ground. A few managed to get back up and launch an attack, but they couldn’t get close to him. They were suddenly thrown back as if an invisible force had pushed against them, knocking them off balance and allowing Davian to quickly dispatch them.
Turning back towards her own group of attackers, Laura quickly crouched down behind her heat shield, giving herself as much cover as possible, as an arrow was fired from the one remaining archer. The two swordsmen were just recovering from the shock of seeing Davian quickly kill their nine fellow mercenaries when, all of a sudden, a couple of soft “CRACKs” were heard and her father was suddenly behind the two mercenaries who had been preparing to charge her. Before the lone archer could shout a warning, Davian had stabbed them both from behind and turned his attention on the archer.
Firing a shot that bounced harmlessly off of Davian’s large shield, the archer then ran towards the door at the end of the hall. Before he had taken a couple of steps, there was another soft “Crack” and her father was now in front of the archer, quickly bashing him in the face with his shield.
“Where is the wizard,” Davian asked the now-stunned archer. Blood was spurting from the man’s nose, his face having taken the brunt of the bash.
The man’s eyes were wide with terror as he answered, “in the Grand Library.”
“Are there any more of you,” Laura asked.
Turning towards her, he said, “No.” He never saw the deathblow as it came immediately after his answer.
“Well sir, do you think your magic might have been detected by the Dark Wizard,” Laura said to her father, sheathing her gladius and pushing her helm back up until it was leaning against the top of her forehead.
“With the residual magic in the place, I doubt the small amount I used would have been noticed. We should keep moving.”
Before he could take one step, Laura said, “That might not be a good idea sir.” She saw the look of displeasure from her father at what she had uttered. She pushed her helm up and started to stroke her scar: her left arm crossed over her chest, right elbow resting on her left hand, her pointer finger stroking the scar as she thought out loud. “This feels like a trap. These mercenaries must have been here for a long time, because I only saw one set of fresh footprints in the cathedral. My guess is that, if we search these rooms, we’ll find plenty of food and other necessities as indications that these people have been here for a while.”
“It doesn’t matter. He is here and I will kill him.”
With a sigh, Laura pulled her helm back down and drew her sword as they continued on. Before they left, she looked back at the bodies. She hadn’t seen any iron weapons or armor on any of them, but she would have liked to have explored a bit just in case there was some laying around.
They traversed through two more large rooms when, at the end of the second one, they saw a large set of wooden doors. Up until now, the decor throughout the underground base had been functional with a collection of paintings, rich carpets, and even chandeliers which had the same glow as the strips of light along the walls. But the door before them was a dark mahogany with golden inscriptions and inlays. It was certainly more ostentatious than anything else the pair of warriors had seen so far.
Without breaking his stride, Davian opened one of the doors, revealing a large library. The inside was enormous with the ceiling about 50 feet into the air. Massive bookshelves crammed with books were 20 feet high on either of the two levels. There were a number of spiral metal staircases leading from the first floor to the second. Large, ornate tables were in the center and, from what Laura could see, there were smaller desks scattered about for those who might wish to study by themselves. It was a breathtaking sight for Laura who was an avid reader, though most of her reading dealt with military history and other books related to warfare.
Laura wanted to move slowly and cautiously, in case the mercenary had been lying to them and that there could be another ambush. But, once again, her father started walking straight up the middle of the library, not looking side-to-side incase there was a threat.
Following in his wake, but trying to keep an eye out for any ambush or traps, Laura observed her father as his entire body became tense, as if preparing himself for something. An attack or something else, she wasn’t sure.
As they approached the rear of the library, it opened up to a large area with an enormous round table that could seat a couple dozen people. Along the back wall was another door but the sight of more goblin skeletons caused Laura to stop in her tracks. The sight before her was shocking. There were some goblin skeletons that she could make out, but then there were other piles of debris. It was the best way to describe it. She could make out what looked like bones and armor yet it appeared as if the goblins had been thrown against a wall with such force that it had broken every bone in their body and smashed their bronze armor flat while their weapons, of which she could see shards scattered, would have completely shattered from such an impact.
But amidst all the piles of smashed skeletons, it looked as if there was an epicenter. It was a small area that was clean of any debris, dust, or bones. It was if a body had been laying there while everything else had been blasted back. And standing at the center was a blue-hooded figure.
Upon seeing him, Laura immediately adopted a fighter’s stance, her left leg forward, shield in front, body turned to the side, slight bending of the knees, and her right arm bent so that her sword was ready to stab at the enemy. But then she looked to her right and noticed that her father hadn’t changed his stance. He just stood there, staring at the person, a smoldering fire in his eyes and an uncontrollable rage appearing on what would normally be his calm, slightly amused face.
“Davi,” the figure said with a masculine-sounding voice. The tone of his voice held neither anger or surprise that someone had approached him. Puzzled for a brief second, Laura wondered who the man had addressed.
“Melanio,” her father answered.
“I see you found her body,” Melanio said as he turned towards them. His face was hidden by the hood and the rich blue robes hid the shape of his body. All that Laura could discern was that he was thin, a few inches taller than her, and he liked to dress well. At least, judging from the rich blue velvet robes that featured gold-colored linings and accents.
“I did,” Davian replied. “I also kept the knife that was left in her body. Your knife.”
“I did what had to be…”
“You always were jealous Melanio de la Vasquez,” her father interrupted the wizard. “After everything we went through, the friendship between us, the pact you and I made that we would be friends no matter who she chose. It all meant nothing to you.”
“Of course I was jealous,” Melanio said, clenching a fist tightly. “She chose you, the orphan, over me who could have given her anything she wanted. So why wouldn’t I be? We both loved her, but she married you.”
“So what happened 22 years ago? You used your Vasquez charm charm to get her to come with you down here for a little romp in the hay only to kill her?”
“I would…”
A primal growl came from her father as he suddenly disappeared with a quiet “Crack.”
“What,” Vasquez said, puzzled, before he quickly turned around to look behind him. As he turned, Laura’s father appeared, sword poised to strike at what should have been the wizard’s back. However, his target was facing towards him now, arms crossed in front. The sword struck an invisible barrier and, with a wave of a hand, the wizard flung her father to the back of a wall.
Laura started charging at Vasquez, who simply flicked his hand in her direction and she was suddenly stopped in her tracks, unable to move.
“I had heard rumors that you had learned magic Davi,” he said. “I expected you to come, but didn’t think you would bring a soldier with you.”
“Had to learn a few tricks in order to fight you Melanio,” her father said as he started to get up. “And that soldier is not any soldier.”
As he stood, his sword suddenly slashed forward and a crescent-shaped beam of light flew at the wizard. As the beam flew from his sword, Davian teleported behind Melanio and, as the beam hit the wizard’s invisible shield, he bashed the back of Vasquez’s head with his shield. Intent on the attack from the front, Melanio hadn’t raised a shield to fully protect him from all sides.
Upon impact, the wizard stumbled away, waving his hand behind him and a wall of fire immediately sprang up. Laura, still unable to move, watched as her father stomped his foot on the ground and a large gust of wind emanated from him, kicking up the dust and bones before slamming into the wall of fire, dispersing the flames. He quickly followed up the wind attack with two more crescent-beamed rays as the wall of fire died out.
“Enough,” Melanio shouted, as he blocked the beams. He reached inside his cloak, feeling around, only to wince in what might have been pain. Pulling his hand away, Laura saw a few specks of blood and noticed that the back of his cloak had a wet splotch on it. The wizard mumbled silently to himself and then made a grabbing motion with his left hand outstretched towards Davian whose eyes went wide with shock as the warrior suddenly realized he couldn’t move. Stepping up to his old friend, Melanio looked up into Davian’s eyes before extending his right hand up towards the struggling warrior’s head. What looked like a luminescent green fog emanated from the wizard’s hand and into her father’s forehead.
The fight had lasted only a minute and, during that time, Laura was straining to move with all of her strength. Finally, with a cry of rage, something in her felt like it had opened up and she felt the spell holding her had shattered. She knew it was suicide to attack the wizard. After all, if her father, who could use magic, couldn’t do it, then how could she? Instinctively she knew all that, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that the enemy was killing her father and she would rather die and try then do nothing and watch him die.
Melanio’s head snapped toward Laura as she started to charge. The green fog stopped as he waved his hand in her direction, flinging her into one of the large bookshelves. She felt her head crack against one of the shelves, partially removing her Sparthenian helmet, only to have a cascade of books rip her helmet the rest of the way off, her mind feeling foggy and blinded with pain.
“Holly,” the soft query came from the dark wizard.
She couldn’t focus, the pain and nausea was overwhelming but she could sense that there was a presence right next to her. The pain and nausea started to rescind as she was able to focus her thoughts. Right in front of her was the wizard, kneeling in front of her with his hands on either side of her head. Past him, she saw her father’s body completely limp, flat on the ground.
“Dad,” she cried out. Her gladius had fallen from her hands upon impact. However, her shield was still on her left arm and she quickly swung it at Vasquez who was kneeling in front of her. As she swung, she tried to locate her sword in order to grab it and follow up on the attack. But she couldn’t find it quickly enough.
Hastily, the wizard stepped back, but not fast enough, the shield grazing his right forearm and he grunted in pain.
“Stop,” he said. “Your father is not dead. I do not wish to kill him just yet.”
She spotted the hilt of her sword under some books close to her hand and grabbed it. But before she could launch another attack, the wizard said, “I said stop, Laura.”
“How do you know my name,” she asked, shocked that he knew it, her arm held in midswing with the sword in her hand.
“Your mother would talk about you whenever we conversed. And you look like her.”
“So you’re not satisfied with murdering my mother, you killed my father as well.”
“I told you he is not dead,” was the terse reply. “Death is too good for him. I want him to suffer. I want him to know what it feels like to have his heart squeezed until he can no longer breathe and then feel like his heart was ripped out of his chest. That’s what I want old Davi to feel.”
“Why?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father’s limp form start to move.
“Because that is how I felt decades ago. But he can tell you all of that himself before he falls asleep again. If he ever wakes up, that is. You forced me to interrupt my spell. I was hoping he would be awake while he started to lose his memories, but knowing that when goes to sleep he will forget everything? I can live with that.”
Then the Dark Wizard Velasquez vanished in front of Laura.
“Dad,” Laura said, a look of concern on her face as she rushed over to where her father was trying to sit up.
“Oh now you call me dad,” Davian said, trying to smile while trying to get up. “Been trying to get you to drop the sir while we have been on our little journey but you are so gob-damned stubborn.
His smile turned to anger as she reached him, “ I had the chance.” He gave up trying to sit and slammed his hand into the ground. But it was nothing more than a weak slap, showing that he was tired. “He was there in front of me and I had the chance. All the years I’ve spent preparing for this and I failed. Now I’m going to forget everything?”
She could see that he was trying to stay awake. But she also saw something that she had seen only once in his eyes before: fear. He was afraid of succumbing to the forgetfulness that awaited him when he would close his eyes. The fear in his eyes angered her. Had dare Vasquez do this!
She grabbed her father’s head, forcing him to look her in the eyes and, just like he used to do to her when she first joined the military, barked out, “Remember who you are, you stubborn old gob! You are going to wake up and remember who you are. What is your name?”
He focused on her and said, “Davian Forsythe.”
“Who are you?”
“A husband and father. Captain of the Murcian army. Hero of the battle at Madrid Pass. The Goblin Slayer.”
Laura could see that with each question, the fear was receding from his eyes, but they were still starting to droop as he struggled to stay awake. Her fingers tightened in his hair, hoping that the pain would wake him up and get him on his feet, “Who is your family?”
“My wife and daughter.”
“Names!”
“Holly and Laura.”
“What is your duty?”
“To protect the kingdom from the Goblin Empire.”
Just as she was starting to ask him another question, he raised a hand to her face and gently wiped a tear away. She hadn’t realized that she was crying. But as he continued to gently stroke her cheek, he said in an ever-softening tone as sleep overtook him, “No matter what happens, avenge your mother and make sure my armor and weapons never fall into the Council’s hands. And remember that I love you little fry. No matter what happens to me, I will make sure that never changes. I….”
Before he could finish, her father gave a long sigh as he fell asleep in her arms. The tears flowed freely as she got up, a determined expression on her face. One way or another she was going to remove this curse, save her father, and kill that filthy gob of a wizard.
“Forget me not, father,” she said. “That is an order.” The line uttered was what her mother would say to Davian as he went off to fight. As a child, Laura had copied her mother and would say the exact same thing when her father had to go off to train new troops or hunt down goblin raiding parties.
But Laura was not saying goodbye this time. It was an order. A command to her father and a hope that the curse cast on him would not have the effect the Dark Wizard said it would.
She did not believe in fairy tales and so started to plan for the worst-case scenario should her father be overcome by the curse.
Author’s Note: So far the number one thing people are saying is that there is too much info dumping in the first chapter. Mainly too much time describing their equipment and, I think, that I spent too much time describing their physical attributes as well. Made some notes in the file to address this when it is time to come back and re-edit this.
Also not too happy with the ending scene and feel it is too cheesy.
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