Sorrow Song

By Kati Su S

Book One: Legend of the Lost

Chapter Two: The Meeting

Authors Notes: Uhm… yay! I made it to the actual story! XD BTW, its rated PG13 for a reason… you have been warned. ^_^;; (I get a bit graphic with the violence, and they're one of my characters that might make a few inappropriate comments, but I guess we'll just wait and see how thickly PG-13 I end up making it. LOL, OMG, I'm practically writing a paragraph inside these pareses! XD)

Another Thing – You'll here 'Soloruran accent' mentioned in this chapter. They're pretty close to French accents – I suppose, but don't go Dracula on me and start adding 'V' every which way. Image the accent but without all that. That's basically what a Soloruran accent is. ^_^ They are most prominent among Solorurans from southern Soloris.

And yes, I am aware that "The Great War" is also another name for World War I. However, just because that's what the war in this was called does not mean that this is a metaphor for World War I or anything, LOL! Its kinda funny actually…

Souldestroyer8763: Word. You sound like my friends... Anison and Sangoku the most. XD Thank you for your compliments and encouragement. I'm glad I haven't scared you off… yet. Aw! I wanna read your story BAD now! ;_; *snarls at possible suspects for the deletage of your story*

Zeriae: Oh… pretty name! Yay, thanks for reading and I'm glad it caught your attention! And good prediction. I'm not going to comment on that further, so you'll just have to wait and see… bwhaha. *is evil*

Wai! Two whole comments! *pats herself on the back* … . . *pats the commenters on the back and gives them cookies* God bless!

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Widdle ran quickly through the forest. Though it was night, you could hardly tell because the lush trees blocked out the dark blue sky from view. The 13-year-old Soloruran fit in with the night. He was wearing all black, a black tank top and baggy black pants, as well as having the blackest shade of black hair a person could have.

He was proud of that, having such a dark black for hair color. No one else he had ever known had believed him that there were multiple shades of black hair, and that most were not quite black. He'd even seen a reddish black color once.

He gritted his teeth, remembering that had made him remember home – his sisters and his mom and dad. He began to breath heavy and reached for his sword. The earth around him all seemed to be whispering, "They're dead, they're, dead." Widdle put his hand on his head and began to back against a tree. However, just as he stepped backwards, someone jumped behind him and put a knife to his neck.

"Just where do you think you're going, soloruran?" inquired a bitter female voice.

"Get off me you hag!" growled Widdle, not the least bit scared. He did not fear death. If he feared it he would never have enough sense about him to fight against when the time came. Besides, dying wouldn't be that bad since the rest of his family had already gone before him.

"Foolish soloruran – wait… WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!" Widdle could feel the knife shaking again his neck as the woman got angrier. "YOU STUPID SOLORURANS KILLED MY SON AND NOW IT'S MY TURN TO GET MY REVENGE, GOT IT, SOLORURAN?!"

Widdle sighed. "Losing our temper a bit, are we? Look, lady I didn't kill your son and I'm only a teenager. Don't you find this all a bit stupid? Blaming me for the death of some HUMAN, which was mostly his fault since he had to go to war and fight against an unarmed race…"

"HE DID NOT DIE IN BATTLE!" the woman shrieked. "HE WAS AN INNOCENT VICTIM!"

Widdle shrugged, although he wasn't sure she could tell. He decided to give her a few seconds to calm down. She did.

Breathing heavily in Widdle's ear, the woman's voice returned, shaky as if she might cry. "How did you know I was a human?"

"You stereotyped me. Humans are only group of people I've ever known to only refer to me as a soloruran, or a soloruran with some curse word in front of it."

"Well from what you just said it sounds like you're stereotyping me!" she said bitterly.

Widdle looked up at the treetops. "Maybe it is… BUT THAT'S NO MORE THEN YOU BLOODY HUMANS DESERVE! YOU KILLED MY WHOLE FAMILY!"

"OH-HO-HO NOW WHO'S TALKING?!" the woman's voice rose as well. "STOP USING THAT HORRID TONGUE OF YOURS OR YOU SHALL LOSE IT!"

"SAME TO YOU, WITCH!"

"YOU'RE THE ONE WITH THE KNIFE TO HIS NECK!"

"Then why haven't you killed me yet?" he whispered.

A tense silence filled the air. Somewhere far off and owl could be heard. The crickets continued to chirp incessantly.

"Such an awkward ending to a foolish spat." a smug male voice from somewhere in front of Widdle cooed.

"Who's there?!" growled the woman, taking her knife away from Widdle and pushing him aside. She stepped slowly forward, as if sneaking up on someone, although the one who got the award for sneaking up was obviously the male, whoever he was. Widdle hoped it would be some strong, wise soloruran who would get rid of this annoying human woman. He closed his eyes and could just picture the Soloruran coming up to them, coming to help him fight off this weird girl. It was only then did Widdle realize that now was the perfect time for him to pull out his father's sword and attack the girl just as she had him.

He looked over at her. Now that she was in clear view (If you could call anything in a thick forest 'clear view') Widdle could see what she looked like. She looked to be in her early 30's with long black hair – darker black, but not true black like his. Her outfit looked to be black and a mixture of other very dark colors.

"I am Wellenthon III of Rathain, but I prefer to go by Wellen," The voice continued. He stepped into view to reveal thick brown eagle wings of a Soralen, about ten years Widdle's senior. His shiny golden-brown hair was evident even in the darkness of the forest. "And what is name?"

"Soralen." Widdle hissed.

"Oh, really?" Wellen said in a mocking voice. "I've never heard that one before for a soloruran."

Widdle snarled. "I'm Widdle of Southern Soloris."

"I guessed from your accent," Wellen grinned. "Nice dog tail by the way, I assume one of my brothers gave it to you?"

The young Soloruran could not keep himself from casting an annoyed look back at his tail. The Soralens weren't the type that would come up to you in battle in stab you, oh, no. They preferred to give you a curse that word either kill you slowly and painfully, or make it so you would turn into an animal every time a certain thing happened. Like, say, getting pushed into hot water you might turn into an elephant. These curses were meant more for embarrassment and inconvenience then death and pain.

"So, what sets your curse off?" the Soralen asked excitedly. A little too excitedly.

"If I get cut, I turn into a dog." Widdle groaned, as if he had rehearsed it one too many times.

Wellen chuckled. "That's extremely intriguing."

"I'm sure it is." Widdle's voice was still bored and unimpressed.

The human woman now spoke up. "How does he turn back into a soloruran after being a dog?"

This time the Soloruran hissed. She was asking Wellen, not him. Wellen wasn't the one with the curse; he wasn't even the one who had given him the curse. A soralen named Rogerin had cursed his whole family the same way as him when he and a group of humans had raided their home in Southern Soloris during the Great War. His mother had told him to take his younger sister and escape. He failed. He had never forgiven himself for the death of his 7-year-old sister. Memories of her laying the ground with an arrow in her back still haunted him in his dreams. Her eyes half way open, staring forever forward… and he had just ran away.

"Human women are so rude!" gasped Wellen. "Speaking without being spoken too… worse, asking a question!"

"Say WHAT?!" the woman formed her hands into fists.

"Everyone in Rathain knows that women are only here for reproduction purposes." Wellen said matter-of-factly.

"OH, WELL WHAT IF I TOLD YOU THAT -"

"I turn back when the cut scabs," Widdle muttered. He didn't want to be here any longer. "Can I go now?"

"Where do you have to go?" asked Wellen.

"Kalandria," stated Widdle. "I want revenge on the humans."

"Now, now," Wellen chucked. "You're not seriously going to march into the richest city in Haven and start killing people are you?"

"Well, yeah, actually." Widdle shrugged.

"Are you out of your MIND?" the woman gasped. Even in the darkness you could see fear in her sparkling eyes.

"Hold your tongue!" cried Wellen.

"Why don't you?" retorted the woman. She walked in front of Widdle and bent down to look him straight in the eyes. "Are you crazy? You could get killed! You're too young to dwell on revenge like this."

"Oh, so I have to wait until I'm your age, old hag?" Widdle put his hands behind his head.

She clenched her fists, shaky with anger and annoyance. Still, she said perfectly calmly, "Yes."

"What's with people and revenge these days?" Wellen rolled his eyes.

"My 8-year-old son was killed by a Soloruran!" the human turned her head and glared at Wellen.

"That's too bad, but you know what? Taking out an entire race of people isn't going to bring your son back, or whoever you lost in the Great War, Widdle of Soloris Valley." Wellen sighed and crossed his arms.

"I don't care!" the woman cried. "This is… all I have left to count on."

"Silence!" Wellen yelped, flailing his arms. "I didn't ask you a question! And Widdle was the last person I was speaking to, not you!"

"Its amazing that you can remember all these rules about women in your culture, but you can't even remember to ask my name." the woman sighed and shook her head. "I am Starlight of Calandris."

"I didn't ask your name." Wellen glared at her.

"I know." Starlight glared back.

Wellen crossed his arms.

Starlight continued to glare.

"FINE!" Wellen obviously couldn't take it anymore. "I'll help you get your stupid revenge. But I think they're really only one person you can truly be mad at. Why waste your time and cause going around ruining more lives that are already much like your own? I think you should kill King Jarof."

"King Jarof?!" gasped Starlight.

"Its perfect!" cried Widdle. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"I know a friend in Cainjo the city of thieves," Wellen continued as if Widdle and Starlight had said nothing. "He could help get us some supplies and tips that could help with the assassination of the King of Haven!"

"Cainjo?! Assassination?!" Starlight put her hand over her mouth. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Are you sure randomly killing off a race of people is a good idea?" chuckled Wellen as he put his hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Light! I'll even let you ramble as much as you want without having to have a question from me!"

Starlight smirked. "I do that anyway."

Wellen grinned. "Yeah, that's what I like about you… to Cainjo!"