Broken Arrow *Fantasy*

[A*Viola*Named*Steve]

This is a fiction story that I'm writing, and that I actually want to get published eventually. It's the first book I've been really serious about, so I've decided to post it on here, while I'm writing and typing the manuscript. There'll be a chapter or two up every week, maybe twice a week. Since I'm finished writing it, I'll post a chapter whenever I can. I really don't think this is too violent of a book, so I'm not going to make few, if any, alterations. If there is a thing that there can be complications with, please let me know through PM.

The setting of the story, Balkeii, is a fictional city-state, and so are two of the other ones near it (I'm too lazy right now to search through the manuscript for the S name.), though use common sense. If I mention someplace that is obviously real, don't PM me about it, asking if it is. Please, just don't.

This is a made up language that I'm using, so I will put a pronunciation guide as I go along.

Feedback, through either comments or PM, is much appreciated.

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Pronunciation Guide:
Balkeii (BAHL-key)

[A*Viola*Named*Steve]

Long ago, before you and I were born, there were four friends-Aaron, Thoran, Elwyn, and Lena. They lived in a stretch of land bordered on both sides by two mountain ranges and a river. They, and their families, lived in harmony for many years, interacting peacefully with the Stones, a magical race. Then, suddenly, everything changed.
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“Aaron!” Elwyn called. “Wait up!” It was a clear night, but cool, and Elwyn had to hold up the skirt of her white nightgown to keep the hem from getting wet from dew. Aaron looks back, the moonlight turning his black hair grey. “I told you not to follow me,” he says, a little crossly. He was dressed up; definitely going somewhere. Elwyn, not at all winded form her bare footed run from her hut on the other side of the village, pushes her brown hair out of her eyes. “Where’ve you been going?" she asks, crossing her arms.
“Somewhere,” he says, turning back to start walking again. “Aaron,” Elwyn says, so sternly that Aaron stops. “You’ve been sneaking off of for two weeks now. What’s been going on?”
“Nothing.” Aaron starts walking again, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t give me that,” Elwyn says. “Something’s been going on, I can tell. And don’t you lie to me,” she adds. “You’ve been acting very strangely.” Aaron sighs and shakes his head. “I can’t tell. I’m sorry, but I can’t.” He gently takes Elywn’s hand off of his shoulder and walks away, disappearing into a grove of oak trees. After watching the copse for a moment, Elwyn turns and walks back.

[A*Viola*Named*Steve]

“At first light, Elwyn ran back to the grove of oak trees and found Aaron, and arrow in his heart. A month later, Elwyn died of an unknown disease. It was later suspected that both deaths were caused by the Hunters.” Mrs. Raleigh finishes speaking, and the room erupts into applause, more enthusiastic in the younger grades than the higher. Lena and Thoran, the oldest elders in the town, get up from their chairs on the stage to speak. They both look a little pained, especially Thoran, who was closest to the both of them.

“Now, as you know, we were both very good friends with Elwyn and Aaron,” Thoran starts half-heartedly. I hear, It’s cruel to have Thoran talk about this, and it takes me a moment to realize that it was all in my head. I think back, Yeah, every year. Lena wasn’t as close, but she could still talk about it a year or two. Give Thoran a break.

My friend and I rant about it for a while, like we do every year at this assembly. It stops, though, as soon as one of the telepathic teachers looks at us. In a second, I see small changes in Thoran’s posture; shoulders back a bit more, back a little straighter. Vito’s offered encouragement, I know it. I give him a small thumbs-up. He notices it. We sit in silence for the rest of the time.
Yep. This is how it goes every time, in case you were wondering.

Before I go on, I guess I should talk about some things. First of all-I’m Kyra. Nice to meetcha. Second, I bet you’re wondering about the Stones that were mentioned in the prologue. Well, they’re magical. They look like humans, except their skin is really pale and their hair and skin are the same color. There are five colors-red, yellow, green, blue, and the rare purple. Reds are uber aggressive and have heightened fighting skills. And did I mention they’re aggressive?

Anyway, the Greenies are the tree-huggers, so to speak. They can control anything in nature, talk to animals, etc. (That includes humans, by the way.) They can make any natural thing wither or blossom, so you do not want to cross a rouge Greenie. Trust me, not fun.

Blues are the mellows. They’re calm, practical, and, I have to say, know-it-alls who don’t know how to have fun. They control water.

Yellows are telepathic. Vito’s one, and so is Thoran. I don’t really have much to say about them, and now Vito’s trying to glare holes into the back of my head.

So, getting away from this (Vito’s facepalming), there are the Purples. Very rare, and before you ask, no, they are not born when a Red and a Blue have babies. It’s considered a birth defect. Why, I have no idea. Anyway, Purples are materializers, and seem to be the most kind and compassionate. I say “seem” because my mom’s one of the only ones I know.

Okay, so I mentioned Hunters and rouges. Well, I’ll give you a choice. Read on and possibly be stalked by them for the rest of your life, or close this book right now. Burn it, take it back to the library, bury it, scribble in it, whatever, and your life may be a little safer. Or just as dangerous as it might be right not. I don’t really know.


For those of you who decided to move on: you’re all very brave or very stupid. Or both. Either way, you just might have a death wish.

Hunters. They’re the mortal enemies of the Guardians (protectors of Stones. I’m Vito’s, and Thoran’s Guardian used to be Elwyn). They will stop at nothing to capture Stones and Guardians alike. Rouges are Stones working for the Hunters of their own free will. You have to remember that. Very important. Oddly, next to no Guardians have become Hunters. (Vito’s giving me an exasperated look now. What did I say?!)
And, third of all…there is no third of all.

*Now back to your regularly scheduled program*

[A*Viola*Named*Steve]

Vito and I were half way home when Ace ran up to us.
Ace is our best friend. Well, my best friend. Vito doesn't really have a best friend. Ace is the dream boy of most of the girls in our grade. Tall, black feathery hair that makes him look like a ragamuffin (I’ve threatened to cut his hair on more than one occasion), and strong. Though when you’ve grown up with him, and a lot of that time was spent wrestling…yeah. I don’t see all of that stuff. At least I don’t pay attention to it. Much.
“Where were you?” I ask, glancing at him. “We waited for you for ten minutes,” Vito adds. “We stayed until the teachers on duty made us leave.”
“I had to stay after,” Ace says, blowing a piece of hair away from his face. “Mrs. Blowfish thought I was messing with chemicals.” Yes, our chemistry teacher is named Mrs. Blowfish. “They’re starting again?” I ask incredulously. A few boys in our grade were framing Ace for things a few months back.
“Yep,” Ace says. Then he grins. “But hey, I can’t help it I’m so dang gorgeous.” He flips his hair comically and the three of us crack up, while a group of girls across the street start squealing.
“Anyway,” Vito says when we’ve all stopped laughing and have caught our breaths. “Kyra’s going to try to do something domestic. Want to come see?” Ace stifles another chuckle. “Kyra? Do something domestic? That’s definitely a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Yeah, I want to see!” I glare at the both of them. “It’s just baking cookies,” I say defensively. “How hard could it possibly be?”
Well, apparently, very hard. Luckily, they helped me, but by the time they were done, the three of us looked like a giant sack of flour threw up on us. Which it practically had. The last batch of cookies was cooling off when my older brother Elton decided to come in.
“I didn’t think that you would actually go through with it, Kyra,” he says, looking amused. “It looks like a flour bomb went off.” I scowl and chuck a cookie at him. He catches it and takes a bite. “Better than expected.” He leaves, but pokes his head back in a few minutes later. “Oh, and there’re some girls in the bushes out front. And I think they have t-shirts.”
Ace smacks is palm against his forehead, leaving a white handprint against his forehead, leaving a white handprint on his mostly clean face, and I stifle a snicker in my washcloth. Elton leaves, and a moment later Ace goes out to check. He comes back in very quickly, looking extremely irked.
“They’re the same people from last time, too,” he says crossly. “I think that they’re getting a little obsessive.”
“Nooo,” I say sarcastically, gathering up some cookies and putting them on a disposable platter. Then I scribble “Ace helped make these,” on a scrap of paper and put in on top of the pile. “Err…what’re you doing?” Vito asks hesitantly. “Getting rid of them,” I reply, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.
Spotting the girls, I open a window, hand the platter to the nearest girl, and slam the window shut again before they can try to come in. I lock it for good measure, before walking back into the kitchen. “That should take care of it,” I say. Then I grab a mop and hand it to Ace. “Now help clean up, Pretty Boy, before my mom gets home.”

[A*Viola*Named*Steve]

I’m trying to force Ace into a chair, scissors at the ready, when my mom walks in the door. “Did you make cookies today?” She asks. “Yep,” Vito says, ignoring the commotion behind him when Ace slips from my grasp and I chase him around the room. “Don’t touch the ones in the cupboard, though,” I add a little breathlessly as I wrestle Ace into a chair and get the scissors poised. “They’re for Thoran.”
An hour later, Ace’s hair is successfully cut and the hair is swept up. Ace is looking slightly cross as we go into the kitchen. “These are great!” my mom tells us. She sees Ace’s expression and laughs. “It’s not that bad, Ace. I think it looks better that way, anyhow.”
That’s my mom; always the optimist. She has pale skin and purple eyes. She died her hair, though, and it’s a dark brown at the moment, really pretty.
I catch Elton trying to sneak another cookie and I throw a floury washcloth at him, making a patch of brown hair turn a powdery white. “Save some for Dad,” I say, and he glares at me in mock anger.
Mom sighs and shakes her head. “Why don’t you three take the cookies to Thoran now while it’s still light out?” she suggests. I nod and reach down the plate. “All right. See you later.”
We walk, talking on the way. When we reach the door, Vito knocks. A couple of minutes later Thoran opens it and lets us in. We talk for a while, us telling him how we’ve been and him telling stories about when he was a kit.
After about an hour, we have to leave. “Go on ahead,” Vito says. “Tell Mom I’m staying a little longer.”
“’Kay,” I reply, and Ace and I leave.
We take a shortcut home, and at one point I’m leaning against the wall of an alley while Ace ties his shoes. He straightens up, turns around, and faces me, blushing a little. “C’mon,” I say. “It’s going to get dark soon.”
“Wait,” he says, coming closet and placing a hand on my cheek, tilting my face up slightly. Then his lips press against mine. My eyes widen a bit, then close. It seems to last hours, but probably only a few seconds.
I can hear Ace’s fangirls plodding away dejectedly as we pull apart. I cough, and he rubs the back of his neck. My face is hot, and probably as bright red as his. After a moment, I grab his hand. “Let’s go back.”

[A*Viola*Named*Steve]

When we walk through the door our hands fall to our sides, but not before Vito sees. He raises an eyebrow from his spot on the couch. What happened?
Later.
“What took you two so long?” he asks out loud. “Didn’t you leave before me?” Meanwhile, on the other side of the couch, Elton’s doubled over with laughter.
We’re spared the embarrassment of answering when my mom pokes her head into the living room. “Ace, it sounds like you’ll be staying here for the night.”
“How come?” in response, Mom gives him the phone, and he disappears into the kitchen.
When he comes back into the living room a few minutes later, he’s a little pale as he says, “There’re people watching the house. Mom wants me to stay here, even if it seems like they’re gone.” My eyebrow rises in disbelief. “Really?”
“Yup.” My dad walks in then, becoming a very welcome distraction. “There’re some dejected looking girls outside,” he says as he walks into the kitchen. I snort and Ace sighs, rubbing his temples.

[A*Viola*Named*Steve]

“It’s almost time.” The words flash on the screen. The man grins. “Ready the plan,” he types in reply, then leans back in his chair. History will repeat itself, he thinks. And two formidable future enemies will fall.

[A*Viola*Named*Steve]

It’s about 8 o’clock when I head to bed. Ace was crashing in the boy’s room, and I decided to hit the sack early. I put on my pajamas and get ready to sleep.

As I plop down on the red quilt, a piece of paper bounces on the mattress. I frown and pick it up. When I open it the words “Watch your friend closely. You never know when he might be lost” stare up at me in mismatched letters. My heart leaps to my throat as I move my thumb and a small picture of Ace appears. I immediately scan my room; there’s a window open, and I slam it shut. Then I check my closet and under my bed. It may have been childish, but you can never be too careful.
Once I deem everything safe, I climb into bed and under my covers. But I leave the light on, just in case.