Creative Writing A man under the sky

I never know if I'm awake...or I'm asleep. Both seem so real...yet so far. Who can I trust anymore? The will I'm given...or the sky above me? My role is but battle, and one that no other man sees but......who am I? A god of war, or someone that exists to surve it? I don't know my name, my home, my life...but one thing is certain....this is my story....of a man under the sky.

The morning air was cold upon my pale white face as I gazed out toward a field littered with ash. My amber hair rode the wind like a current of water as it lit up in the light of the sun. Fields of green as far as the eye could see, I saw. The light from fires men of war lit, I saw. I am a Valaern but that's all they say. I don't know what a Valaern is but I don't even know what anything else is either. Tents as far as the field broke the edge of sight. I only remember one day of my life...and today was the only one I remember.

I woke to this air with the white shirt over my head and brown pants over my feet. A cover was over me in the bed I lay in as one man came in. He said..."Valaern, Serra Taka wishes to see you." He opened the current of the tent as he said that and left before I could say a word. I looked around but there was nothing to see, just a bed on stands and the dirty walls of the tent that was lit by the sun. I got dressed and went outside. And here I am, with no idea of where I'm at. Or who I am. Who am I?

 

"Valaern!" called a voice in the background of my view. I turned to my right to face who ever called and it was the man from before in the tent. He motioned for me to come with a sign of his hand and turned his back toward me. He then began walking toward one tent that was larger than the others and he went inside. I minded the details of the tent. Four guards stood on either edge of the tent and two more were at the sides of the tent enterance itself. I choose then to just go along with it and follow him. I have nothing to lose anyway, this is my first day of even knowing anything.

I walked toward the tent, the blood stained grass brushing against the bottom of my feet as I walked. I came in front of the tent's enterance and looked up at the guards. They wore something called "samurai armor". How I knew the name, I don't know. It just poped into my head as did other thoughts about it. I suddenly remember different types of weapons and how to use them. I didn't know any of these but I felt like I've used them all my life. I swallowed my own feelings that were building up inside of me, walked forward and pushed the blinds of the tent aside to see through.

When I stepped completly through it, I was a bit surprised at what I saw. My first thought about this place would have been that something of improtance would be in here but all there was was a table with maps and a person in a chair being held up by stands at one end of the table. The man that leaded the way to this place for me was next to the other man. But before I could think of anything else, I somehow blanked out on my feet as I felt the world spin around me and my head was filled with pain.

 

"Valaern," said a voice on the edge of my hearing. After a pause of silence, it called again, "Valaern!" I opened my eyes slowly to see four men in samurai armor over me. "Well, at least he's alive," said one of the men and all of them laughed like it was a joke.

"Give him room," said a deep voice from behind the group. They moved out of the way for one man to go over to where I lay. He stopped and looked down on me. Unlike the brown armor everyone else wore, his was green and had a cape on the back of it. "Well, took quite a fall, you did," he said to me. He bent down and pulled me up by hand like I was nothing. I swayed on the spot for a moment before getting balance. I looked at the man's green eyes and they didn't seem very friendly. He turned toward a man to his right in armor and said, "Give him a seat."

"Yes sir," said the man and he motioned me to sit in a seat that was on the other end of the table. I breathed a few times before walking over and siting down in the chair. I looked across from me and the man with the green armor took the seat on the other end.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked me as he placed his hands on the table while others started taking seats along the table.

"No," I said simply, wondering where he was going to go with this.

He crossed his arms along his chest and leaned back in his chair. "Do you know what a Valaern is?" he asked. Again my answer was 'no'. "What's your name?" he asked a different question this time.

I didn't answer that for a long moment and the people around the table started to whissper among themselves. "I don't know my name," I answered simply to his question and the talk died down. The man with green armor just smiled at me.

 

The man reached over the table and pulled out a piece of paper that was blank, grabbed a quill that was nearby and started writing something on it. He stopped writing, put the quill down to the side and looked up at me from over the paper. "Do you know what I wrote?" he asked me. I was surprised by the sudden question and was puzzled.

"How could I know what you wrote unless you showed it to me?" I asked him, leaning forward a little bit.

"What did I write?" he asked again, now moving the paper from side to side. He had a frown on his face and didn't like something for some reason.

"I don't know," I told him. I didn't understand anything of what this was suppose to be and it just seemed to make me a little angry.

"What did I write?" he repeated to me, still moving the paper from side to side and still wearing the frown on his face.

I was getting angrier with him as he repeated the question again and that look on his face just made me even more angry. It was as if he thought I knew and I just wasn't wanting to tell or something. I really didn't know what he wrote. I breath a sigh and narrowed my eyes a little while staring at the paper moving in his hand. Then, a word just poped into my head, as if it came from someone else, or something else. The word I was thinking of was Valaern but I already knew that word, even though I didn't know what it meant. I decided to try something.

"Valaern," I said to them clearly and loudly to them. "You wrote Valaern." The man's frown turned into a large smile. He rolled the paper up and throw it toward me. I raised my left hand without thinking and caught it perfectly in my hand. I moved my right hand near the paper and unrolled it. In big black letters upon the paper was the word Valaern.

 

"My name is Serra Taka," said the man in green armor. I looked up from the paper, confused as to how I knew the word upon it. I looked at his face and he was smiling. "And you are a Valaern," he said to me as he leaned forward on his arms.

"But what is it?" I said, placing the paper ruffly aside. He was starting to make me even more angry with everything. "How did I know what you wrote? How do I know what you're wearing is called and...a lot of other things I've never seen?" I sighed as I leaned back in the chair, speaking my mind at last. I looked down at my hands, noticing something on my hands. It seemed like my hands were shaped in a certain way as a name or name for something popped into my head. Calluses. It seemed that my hand looked like it had used a sword or weapon before, many times.

"A Valaern.....is a soldier of war. A special kind of soldier......one you can't find or meet anywhere else," he said to me.

My mind was filling with questions that I wanted answers to. I looked up at him. "What kind of soldier?"