Chronicles of Galadria I - The Other World
Page 1
Chronicles of Galadria I - The Other World
David Gay-Perret
Translated by Amy Lynn Trahearn
“Chronicles of Galadria I - The Other World”
Written By David Gay-Perret
Copyright © 2017 David Gay-Perret
All rights reserved
Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.
www.babelcube.com
Translated by Amy Lynn Trahearn
Cover Design © 2017 Joshua Wright
“Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.
The complete Chronicles of Galadria are made up of 6 volumes, which can be found in multiple languages in an e-book format (for a complete and up-to-date listing of translations and distributors, follow this link or look on the website www.gayperret.com, under the Chronicles of Galadria tab):
Chronicles of Galadria I - The Other World
Chronicles of Galadria II - Encounters
Chronicles of Galadria III - Lessons
Chronicles of Galadria IV - Tranquility
Chronicles of Galadria V - A New Beginning
Chronicles of Galadria VI - Hope
Please note, some volumes of the series may not have been translated into the language you are currently reading yet. To verify which books are available and in which languages, or to see translation progress, follow the link above.
Table of Contents
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Map
Foreword
Before you launch yourself into the saga that awaits you, let me just mention that I would like to have this book available in as many different languages as possible, so if you’ve mastered a couple and you’re tempted by the adventure, visit Babelcube to get in contact with me! The original language is French (but I will entertain offers based on a previously translated language), but the target languages depend only on you – although some have already been covered.
It is important to understand that the “coming of age” aspect of the Chronicles is the result of a patchwork of themes and ideas that I added in as they came to me, in a spontaneous way, without really thinking about their effects on the overall stream of the story—a bit like an intimate diary or journal. However, the completion of the writing process also marked a moment of comprehension and a new perspective on my life and the world; I now thought of elements that I ardently wanted to share, though the story was sadly already finished. As I reread the story in the light of this new realization, I discovered that all that I now wanted to say was already there, though perhaps poorly expressed (as I hadn’t constructed the story with those ideas in mind).
So, I would also like to mention my latest project concerning this series: I am planning on creating an animated series, divided into episodes. For connoisseurs, it would be somewhat in the style of Japanese anime. Ideally, I would like to work in collaboration with an animation studio (perhaps seeking a scenario?) so that the story can benefit from the knowledge, advice, and resources of professionals, all while maintaining my point of view, my ideas for direction, and my music. Most important for me are assurances to respect the atmosphere and the story. The creation of an animated series would permit me to begin the creative process again, but with those key themes and message in mind, so that I could transmit them throughout the story, but in a clear, structured, and logical manner.
So, if you know individuals who work in the field of animation who might be interested, or if you yourself are in such a position, don’t hesitate to contact me!
And here we go. It is more than time for you to discover the adventure that is to follow. Enjoy reading, and enjoy the journey...
To all who still know how to dream...
Prologue
A bolt of lightning seemed to tear the sky apart, then another ork fell. Glaide bounded forward, landing behind his adversary, who he decapitated with a stroke of his blade. Sheathing his sword, he shot a glance around himself, and detected no other sources of danger.
“Good, perhaps now I can look for a place to spend the night. I have no interest in sleeping even a single night more under the stars, or in a humid cave,” sighed the young man with a somber air.
He found himself on a small hill. To the right, he could see the path he had been on, made of gravel, the earth laid bare by the innumerable boots that had trampled the path over the years. It twisted and turned with the goal of never unnecessarily tiring its travelers by forcing them to climb. Glaide, however, had wanted to catch a view from above, and he had indeed found one: he had discovered a band of orks, ready to swoop down upon a small cottage. To his left, there was a mountain range covered with evergreens and other trees whose leaves, in this season, had taken on nuances of crimson and gold.
He looked at his enemies one last time. “They won’t bother anyone there,” he thought, throwing a look of disdain in the direction of the lifeless corpses. Then, he tranquilly began moving towards the bottom of the hill, in the direction of the abode, where the occupants, without even knowing it, had just escaped death.
As he arrived, the sun, which was already setting, began to disappear behind the mountains, and the stream that poured down from the mountains reflected vermillion and silver glints. The rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, enrobing the trees in green light.
The house was in that particular style that was so dear to this world: the door, as in most houses here, was of a somber and simple wood, and the home had a varnished, wooden façade; it was a subtle mixture of the orient and the western world. The walls shone with the light of a million fires under the setting sun.
Glaide knocked. When the old man opened the door he froze in place, looking momentarily astonished to see before him, in the fading light of the evening, a young man wearing a long cape that covered most of his chin.
“Good evening,” Glaide said to him.
The man seemed to come to his senses, and returned Glaide’s greeting. Then his face lit up as he said, “But... but... I... I know you... I’ve seen you before. You.... you’re the Destroyer!”
Glaide stayed silent for a moment, and a flash of sadness briefly crossed his dark eyes. In that flash, one could see regret, memories, and a profound melancholy above all. He responded, “Yes, that is what they call me.”
“Oh, but if I had only known. But I beg you, come in, come in! Hey everyone, come see who has come for a visit,” exclaimed the man.
A whole troupe made up of men, women and children came down the stairs. “It’s just my luck, to land in the middle of a family reunion,” thought Glaide, lifting his eyes towards the sky.
The atmosphere of the room was warm, and though he asked if he should leave, they assured him that he was no bother. A few handshakes later, everyone took their places around the table. After a meal that was as copious as it was delicious, and after many questions about both everything and nothing, the adolescent - who really wasn’t one any longer - and his hosts moved into the lounge, where some beautiful, and very comfortable, armchai
rs awaited them. The home, though small, possessed a lounge sufficiently spacious to fit the whole group - about a dozen people.
The old man began to speak, “You see, young man, I had planned to go to Shinozuka soon, and now that you’re here I want to write your story, and take a copy with me to the Great Library. I understood that no one, apart from you, would be able to tell the whole story of the Destroyer, and consequently nothing recounts your advent in the chronicles and history of this world.” Then he added, laughing, “This will make an excellent bedtime story for children!”
The young man smiled politely, but in his heart, he did not smile at all. “No, I am not the only one who knows my story. But that doesn’t matter now,” he thought. Then, he commented, “but, it is.... it’s a very long story.”
“Will the night suffice?” asked a woman.
Glaide nodded his head slowly, then gazed out the window at the night gently enveloping the countryside. The moon was full, and everything seemed auspicious for one of the greatest secrets of Galadria to finally, and for the last time, be revealed...
“Am I ready?” thought the young man to himself. “I have pushed the past away throughout the many months, afraid of my own memories... Who am I now? What is left of the person I once was? People are celebrating someone who gave birth to this new age. They celebrate the Destroyer, even though they know the truth. Even though I am still happy to be here, I've renounced the name they have given me, along with the memories of the adventure that I had hoped for so long. But, could it be that my journey destined me to be here, this evening? Was I supposed to relive the memories, though I didn’t know if I regretted them or feared them? I had always dreaded living in the past, but perhaps today it was the past I had to draw on to create a future for myself. Yes, I want to live life anew...
“And little does it matter; I must concentrate and retell my story. Perhaps it will offer an aid to the future, who knows? You are right, master: all stories have an ending, and mine certainly seems to be finished.”
He turned to his listeners, and saw the old man lift his head from the piece of parchment that he held in his hands and stop writing on it. Then, out loud this time, Glaide began:
“And so...”
The man took up his plume again and placed the point just below what he had already written. Characters which, with a certain arrogance, read:
“Chronicles of Galadria: The Coming of the New Destroyer”.
Chapter 1
HOW long had it been since it all started? He couldn’t precisely say. The only thing he knew for certain was the way everything had started: first, it was simply vague contemplation, then a story had germinated in his mind, always set in another world. But all of this made him happy: yes, it was like a dream for him. When he considered that he could never explore this fabulous world, and that it would remain only in his mind, depression crept in. However, he had always boasted of having a will of iron, and so combatting this depression was a feat that he considered it his duty to accomplish. He read an abundance of books, and so, in a way, he was able to travel to many worlds.
The world in which he lived, at that time, wasn’t really his own. He wanted a world without technology; a world that remained in the Middle Ages, but with monsters, and magic. The authors called it “Heroic Fantasy”, but after all, what did the name matter? And even though others never stopped repeating that that world existed only in his imagination, and that the monsters that he dreamed of defeating – and that he had named orks – as in all good stories, were nothing but the invention of a man, he continued to enjoy dreaming, something which is rare in this day and age.
He had discussed this subject several times with a friend of his, and the two often asked themselves how such a world could exist. Maybe it was just childishness... An overflow of imagination, without a doubt. He was not one of those people who live in their dreams. On the contrary, he had always shown himself to be very lucid – maybe too lucid. His dreams never took over reality. They made time move forward, and that was their only role.
Nonetheless, he had asked himself on many occasions if it couldn’t be possible, one day, to discover a world like the one he dreamed of. In these moments, he lost himself in imagining the ways he would react, and what events he would be brought into... But sometimes events that are unforeseeable occur, and – something even more rare – sometimes dreams become reality.
Glaide was traveling home on the bus. The 17-year-old, who had relatively long, chestnut colored hair, dark brown eyes, and a frank face, tried, more successfully than not, to keep his balance despite the jolting movements of the vehicle. He had a deep and serious expression on his face, a look that seemed to hint at great moral strength, and his mouth was twisted into a magnificent smile; however, he was generally a very discreet and private person, and his smile appeared like this only rarely. He generally spoke little, but thought much – without a doubt, too much sometimes, if that were even possible. Though he little desired to attract the attention of others and lead, he knew how to make decisions if he felt it was needed.
Today, he had Jeremy by his side: his constant comrade, whose hazelnut eyes and jovial appearance instantly won people over. With his friendly face and easy smile, one might almost label him as reckless, or even superficial. But judging by appearances alone can often lead to errors, and his loyalty was a perfect model for many: his actions had proven more than once that he deserved the trust of his friend. He had just celebrated his seventeenth birthday at the beginning of June.
The two boys had decided to go out together that Friday, as it was the eve of the first day of summer vacation. The cries of delight and the overflowing joy that resonated within the bus left little doubt that everyone in the vehicle was celebrating. The bus driver was the only one who didn’t seem to share in the joy that surrounded him – probably because of the loud cries that blasted his ears.
After getting off the bus, the two young men began discussing their plans for the coming days, all the while following the small cobblestone pathway leading towards Glaide’s home.
“So, Jeremey, are you going south, like you do every year?”
“Ah yes, a tragic inevitability,” sighed the young man. “And you?”
“We’ll definitely spend at least two or three weeks, just the family, enjoying the sun. But we’ll see.”
The day was bright, yet, even at the end of June, the sun never seemed to quite warm the world up as it should, and everyone still wrapped themselves up in sweaters, protecting themselves against a summer that promised to be cool.
While they walked, two young ladies the same age as Glaide followed in their footsteps. One of the girls had fine black hair, emerald eyes, and a beautiful smile that came readily to her face. Responding to the name Emily, the girl was one who spoke little, and then often only to say that she was thinking. Glaide admired her because, without being antisocial – something he was often accused of – she was also never extravagantly social.
Her companion had shoulder-length hair that sometimes took on a golden gleam when the sun hit it, a phenomenon that the young man had never quite been able to explain. She was called Gwenn, and she had a natural tendency towards gullibility that had often made her fall prey to jokes and pranks. She made up for this by having magnificent grey eyes, tinged with blue, that attracted innumerable remarks and suitors.
The two young women were good friends, and they appreciated Glaide, despite his somewhat cold and hard appearance.
Deep in their discussions, the four didn’t immediately notice the strange violet glow when it made its appearance. The glow was intriguing because it was not projected or reflected; it appeared, growing in plain sight, out of thin air.
The two boys were well ahead of the girls, but the cry was so piercing that it reached their ears. Instinctively, they spun around, and Glaide discovered before him a scene that he could never have anticipated in all his life – one he could never have hoped for: a monster was before him. Yes, a monster
; he had no other name for the creature, which was more than nine feet tall with sharp claws, and which was moving to attack Emily and Gwenn. Short fur covered its black skin, which looked as hard as steel.
However, this vision of horror, which had yet to do anything more than surprise Glaide, soon made Glaide feel something else entirely. The feeling of surprise was replaced with the feelings one experiences when something they’ve long awaited finally arrives: a joy mixed with surprise and incredulity, because after imagining one improbable situation after another, Glaide had finally discovered one in the real world. He was incapable of making a move or saying a word: his mind seemed to work at lightning speed, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible, all while crying out that the time had finally come.
Jeremy stood petrified by his side, ceaselessly repeating the same phrase, “it’s impossible, it’s impossible...”
Glaide gave him a shove to bring him back to his senses and said, “Hey, wake up! Quit repeating that nonsense; you can clearly see it’s possible!”
Sadly, the shove merely reminded him that he had legs, and he instantly made an about face in an attempt to escape – a reaction that was at least normal. Glaide, however, planted himself in front of Jeremy, forbidding his escape. Jeremy tried to push past him, but instead he received a blow to the stomach that knocked the wind out of him. He dropped to one knee, attempting to regain his breath, while his companion began to speak: “Look! Look at that monster there! It’s exactly as I told you before: it’s the Other World, here! It’s my dream Jeremy. Finally, I see before me exactly what I had hoped for! It’s now or never: the chance to realize my dearest wish, and believe me, I’m not going to let it escape from me.”
The adolescent, still breathing in short bursts, looked his friend in the eye. Was it the determination that he saw gleaming there that calmed him? Or perhaps it was the peculiar, almost delirious look he always noticed as Glaide spoke to him of this “Other World”? Or maybe it was once again that determination to follow after a friend? Whatever it was, he rose up. Though still unsteady, he declared in a calm voice, “It actually seems you were right: this “Other World” does exist, and it won’t be said that the best friend of Glaide abandoned him just as he finally realized his dream.”