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2732 lines
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DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
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D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 12
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-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 2
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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\
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========================================================================
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DargonZine Distributed: 2/28/1999
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Volume 12, Number 2 Circulation: 686
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========================================================================
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Contents
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Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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Fate of a Child 2 Rena Deutsch Janis 985
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Talisman Zero 2 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Mid-fall, 2216 ID
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The Beast Mike Adams 7-8 Firil 1015
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========================================================================
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DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
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collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
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We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
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Please address all correspondance to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
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on the World Wide Web at http://www.dargonzine.org/. Back issues
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are available from ftp.shore.net in members/dargon/. Issues and
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public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
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DargonZine 12-2, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright February, 1999 by
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the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>,
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Assistant Editor: Jon Evans <godling@mnsinc.com>. All rights reserved.
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All rights are reassigned to the individual contributors. Stories
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and artwork appearing herein may not be reproduced or redistributed
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without the explicit permission of their creators, except in the case
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of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
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Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
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========================================================================
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Editorial
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by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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<ornoth@shore.net>
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One of the most important lessons I've learned from 16 years on the
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Internet is the importance of reaching out to new members of whatever
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community you belong to.
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This was best illustrated for me back when I was one of "the
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regulars" on a particular Usenet newsgroup. Back then, I knew a woman
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who had been around for years and was very popular with others who had
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been around a long time. However, her attitude toward new members was
|
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usually arrogant and condescending. Meanwhile, another woman I knew, who
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had only been around for a short time, was more outgoing and welcoming
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to new people.
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Now, newsgroups are like most online communities in that there is a
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constant flow of new people checking them out and old members leaving or
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losing access. Over time, the arrogant woman's friends gradually moved
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on to other things until there was no one left who remembered her, and
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she spent all her time online grousing about how vital she was to the
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popularity of the group and how no one seemed to appreciate that
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anymore. Meanwhile, the newer, more outgoing woman had become the center
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of a large circle of new members that made up the bulk of the community.
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Understanding this -- that in a dynamic community, in order to
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remain popular you need to actively welcome new members, and that the
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price of arrogance and condescension toward "newbies" is obscurity --
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was a major revelation for me. And it remains one of the most important
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lessons that I try to infuse in DargonZine.
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Every month, approximately five percent of our readership leaves,
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and is replaced by new readers. Think about what that means for a
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magazine where we're building on fifteen years of stories, and where any
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given story may well rely on an understanding of names and places and
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events depicted months earlier, or where any issue could contain "part
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four" of a storyline. It means we need to do a superlative job at
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reaching out and immediately engaging our new readers, and getting them
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up to speed on what they need to know in order to understand and enjoy
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our writing, and do that constantly.
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That's an enormous struggle, but one where we've made some progress
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in recent years. The Web site now includes a whole section called "About
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Dargon" that includes such features as maps of the area, a special "New
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Readers' Introduction" page, and our Online Glossary, which contains
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encyclopedic definitions of every person, place, and thing we write
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about. And each time something in our Glossary appears in a story on our
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Web site, it is hyperlinked to its description in the Online Glossary.
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And when we print "part four" of a storyline, we write that chapter so
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that it can stand alone, and include pointers to the previous chapters.
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Another way to establish familiarity with the milieu is to ensure
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that there's some overlap between stories, so that readers become
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comfortable with the people, places, and things that are most important.
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Here, I must admit that we've done a mediocre job, which I'll talk a
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little more about in a moment. But to address this problem we have
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recently revived our practice of using contests and organized writing
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exercises that incorporate communal events or themes, such as our 1997
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Night of Souls stories, and our more recent comet stories. Look for more
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of these in the future!
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We realize that making it easy for new readers to get up to speed
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is our biggest hurdle to overcome if we are to survive and grow. While
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we've made some progress, I'm sure there's more we could do. If you have
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specific ideas on this topic, we'd love to hear them, because it will
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allow us to better serve you, and the readers whom we hope will follow.
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Of course, new readers aren't the only people we need to reach out
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to. Similarly, we need to integrate new writers and both make them feel
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welcome and give them sufficient understanding of what we do and how we
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do it so that they can immediately start producing printable fiction.
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This is usually where the "commonality" I mentioned above breaks
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down. Usually, new writers are uncomfortable writing stories that take
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place within the unfamiliar confines of Dargon proper, so they strike
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off on their own, writing a storyline that takes place on the outskirts
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of known territory. By doing so, they avoid having to do much research
|
|
into what's already been written, and their stories are less
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constrained. On the other hand, their works may never integrate into or
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even overlap with the mainstream of Dargon work, and if this happens
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often the project may become nothing more than a shell surrounding a
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number of independent, unrelated storylines.
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We've tried to address this in a number of ways, including rules
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that require new writers to write their first story in Dargon proper,
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the contests and communal events I spoke of above, and our new mentoring
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system, which so far is showing great promise but limited capacity. So
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far, we're doing a good job making writers feel welcome and productive,
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but we still need to work on developing more commonality between
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storylines.
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But through all these struggles, the unwavering goal is to make it
|
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easier for people, both readers and writers, to enjoy DargonZine, so
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that it can grow and continue to contribute to the value of the
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Internet, as it has done since 1984.
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========================================================================
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Fate of a Child
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Part 2
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by Rena Deutsch
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<Rena3@hotmail.com>
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Janis 985
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Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 11-10
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"Tobias, Tobias! Look what I got!" Anna ran down the snow-covered
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hill, holding the result of this morning's hunt in her hands. She could
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see Tobias Held, her guardian, blowing in his hands to warm them while
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he was waiting for her to come down the hill. Anna stumbled, fell, and
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slid several feet downward. Quickly, she got to her feet and walked the
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rest of the way. Her face beamed with pride.
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"Look Tobias! I caught a rabbit! All by myself!" She held the
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rabbit up high and laughed. During the last years Tobias had taught her
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to hunt with a bow and arrow, but she was much better with a sling and
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stones. The rabbit she'd brought back proved it.
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"Look at you!" Tobias laughed and brushed the snow off Anna's cape.
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"Good hunting Anna!" he told her with a smile on his face. "Now go
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inside and warm up, I'll skin the rabbit and we'll cook it for supper."
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"Thanks Tobias," she replied and stepped inside the cabin. Anna
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still hated to skin an animal, though she had learned how to do it. She
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took the outer layer of her clothing off and hung it near the fire to
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dry. Tobias had brought the clothing back from Dargon last Ober. It was
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a bit big, but that way it would last her hopefully through this winter
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and maybe next.
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Anna stood near the fire and warmed her hands. The heat felt good
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after having spent the morning outside. Anna's thoughts drifted. She was
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hoping that this year Tobias would take her along to Dargon. Each year
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he had gone to Dargon to sell fur and furniture for the spring festival,
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Melrin, a five-day celebration. Each year she had been left behind to
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tend the goats and look after the cabin.
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"This year I'm going, too! I don't want to stay behind again." Anna
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straightened herself unconsciously as the thoughts whirled through her
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head. She wondered why Tobias wouldn't take her with him to Dargon. Her
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fair skin, green eyes, and red hair were quite a contrast to Tobias'
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dark skin and black hair. It would raise more than one question if she
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were to travel with him, but Anna didn't care. She never accompanied him
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when he went to one of the villages, afraid what might happen if someone
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recognized her. The memory of her mother's death still haunted her
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dreams. Up here on the hill she felt safe; no one bothered them.
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"I will ask him again to take me to Dargon for the spring festival.
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He just has to let me go!" Anna told herself, took the kettle, filled it
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with water, and hung it on the hook over the fireplace. She threw in
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some of the dried herbs they had gathered last year and added cut
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vegetables. Together with the meat, it would make a fine stew.
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It was Anna's sixth winter in Tobias' cabin. After her mother's
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death she had been wandering aimlessly in the forest. Only by chance,
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had she found the cabin and Tobias had let her stay. He had added a room
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for her, made shelves for the wall, and a box in which she could keep
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her few belongings. Each year he had brought her something from his
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trip: a piece of candy, a string with beads to put around her neck, a
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new dress, or a doll. Last year, he had brought her a cape. Anna
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treasured the gifts, but they also reminded her of Tobias' yearly
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absence. A cycle was a long time to be alone, the days passed quickly,
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but Anna hated to be left behind. She was dreaming of ships and big
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places and the market he had told her about. She wanted to see all that,
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too, and was determined to accompany Tobias when he left for Dargon the
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next time.
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"Did a good job with that rabbit," remarked Tobias as he walked
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into the cabin with a bowl full of cut up rabbit.
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"Thank you!" Anna smiled and her eyes sparkled. Deciding not to
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wait until after dinner with her question, she gathered all her courage.
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"Tobias?"
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"Hmmm?"
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"Will you take me with you when you go to Dargon this year?" Anna
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saw the surprise on Tobias' face.
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After a few moments of silence, he took a deep breath and responded
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as he had many times before. "Anna, we've been through this before. The
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long journey and the dangers of the road. Maybe next year."
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"But I want to see the market, the ships, and all ..." Anna's voice
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was filled with a deep longing. She clenched her fists.
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"And who'll take care of the goats and the cabin while we're gone?"
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"We could take the goats with us. You always took the goats
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before." She looked at him, wishing he'd give in.
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"That I did, but I only had two goats then, not six like we do
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now."
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"But I can help! I'm older now; I can do many of the things you
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do." Anna looked at her guardian and watched him prepare the meal
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quietly. The silence was unsettling. Pacing back and forth in the small
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room, Anna couldn't take the silence any longer. "Tobias, I --"
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"We'll see," he interrupted and Anna knew he wouldn't say anything
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more about it. She let out a sigh, and set the table. She wanted to go
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to Dargon and would not give up until she'd gotten her way.
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Anna ate her dinner, hardly noticing what was in her bowl, then
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finished her chores automatically. After her evening ablutions she went
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to her room and stretched out on the hay.
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"Please, Stevene," she prayed silently, like so many nights before,
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"let me go to Dargon with Tobias this year."
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Tobias remained sitting at the table, pulling his traps out from
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underneath the table and fixing them, long after Anna had gone to her
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room. He had seen the longing in Anna's eyes and heard the unspoken want
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for change and adventure. It reminded him of his own longing for
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adventure in his youth. The girl had brought so much joy to his life. If
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he took her with him, it would make her happy, but would also put her
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life in danger. Roadside bandits were one of his concerns, the length of
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the journey another. It would be more stressful to travel with Anna, and
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if they took the goats it was almost an invitation for raiders. And then
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there was the matter of being recognized on the way by the villagers who
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orphaned her. Anna hadn't told him what happened, but she had been
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plagued by nightmares for cycles after she had arrived in his cabin and
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had cried for her mother in her sleep. The year after her arrival, he
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had learned about Anna's mother and the circumstances of her death. His
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journey had led him through Cobbleswell and careful questioning of some
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of the village youngsters had revealed that Anna's mother had been
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accused of worshipping Arom-Nok and conspiring with the god to bring
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harm to the villagers.
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Tobias remembered the youngster's words as clearly as if he'd told
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him the day before: "... The men chased her all night and brought her
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back and tied her up real good, but they couldn't find Anna. The girl
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was just as evil as her mother was. The next morning some of the rope
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was cut and we all got scared, thought the woman was gonna just
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disappear. Then we all threw stones at her till she stopped breathing.
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She was evil you know and did bad things to us. And then the men burnt
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her shack. After that all was quiet and nothing bad has happened since."
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Tobias shuddered when he thought just how proud the boy had been about
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the killing. He had avoided Cobbleswell ever since, just in case. Every
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now and then, he heard that the villagers were still afraid the child
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would reappear and continue what her mother supposedly had done.
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Over the years, Tobias had seen nothing in Anna that would warrant
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the accusations of the villagers. His knowledge of the All-Creator was
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limited. He had read the Manifest Pantheon a long time ago and forgotten
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most of it. After learning about Anna's mother, he had filled in the
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gaps in his memory. Part of the Manifest was an explanation how
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everything came to be, and the All-Creator's intention for his creation.
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When the All-Creator realized that man needed guidance, he created eight
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gods. Arom-Nok was one of the gods, but despised the All-Creator's work
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and spread plagues and suffering among the people.
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Tobias believed in the teachings of Cephas Stevene, who had spread
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the word of one god, and had taught Anna in that manner. She was
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certainly not the child of an evil god. But who would believe him? Many
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fellow travelers avoided him because his skin was so dark. He had heard
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the word 'demon' applied to him more than once. Only in Dargon people
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were used to all different kinds of skin colors, though he wasn't so
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sure if Anna's red hair would not draw extra attention, or prompt
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someone's memory. During Melrin people from all over the duchy would
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visit Dargon. If he were to take her, he'd have to come up with a plan.
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Maybe his friends Zarit and Jerel would be willing to help him --
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traveling with six goats was not something he looked forward to. With
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this in mind he went to bed.
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Spring finally arrived, melting the last ice, turning the hills
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green, and the meadows into a symphony of colors. The birds in the
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forest were chirping and building their nests. Anna was down at the
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creek washing her clothes and laying them in the sun to dry. She could
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hear Tobias hammering behind the house. He was fixing the fence and the
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small hand-wagon. He'd been at it all morning. Anna knew he was getting
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ready to travel. The spring festival was only three sennights away. Her
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yearning to go to Dargon with Tobias was stronger than ever and made it
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difficult to concentrate on her chores. He hadn't said anything since
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she had asked him last. Twice after her successful hunt in the winter
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she had tried to talk to Tobias about taking her to Dargon. Each time he
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had cut her off with a brief remark. A deep sigh escaped her. Anna knew
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better than to push the issue again, but she wanted to go so much that
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all her thinking circled around a way that would convince Tobias to take
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her with him.
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Anna rinsed her shirt, wrung it as well as she could, and spread it
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out to dry. The sun was high in the sky now and shining warmly on her. A
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quick bath in mind, she took her shirt off and stepped carefully into
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the creek. The water felt cold around her ankles. She knelt down and let
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the water splash onto her legs and stomach. It was icy! Anna finished
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quickly. By the time she was done her feet looked blue. Shivering, she
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put her shirt back on and ran up and down alongside the creek to warm
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up. A little out of breath, but finally warm, she let herself fall
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backward on the grass, and watched white and grey clouds move slowly
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over the sky.
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Tobias looked up from his work and stretched. He had finished the
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hand-wagon and packed all he needed for his trip. The fence was in a
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decent state. He listened for Anna. She was noisy when she did her
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chores, and he usually had no trouble locating her. But it was quiet and
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the silence was unsettling. "What is she up to?" he wondered and walked
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around to the front of the house. All over the grass, laundry was spread
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out to dry and right in the middle was Anna, asleep. He woke her up.
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"Anna," he began, "There's just enough time for me to walk the path
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and check the traps one last time. I'll be back by sundown." He saw the
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unspoken question in her eyes and added, "We're leaving tomorrow."
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Anna's face took on an expression of surprise and amazement.
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"I get to go? I get to go!" excitement was in her voice, then
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doubt. "I really get to go?"
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Tobias saw the worried look and nodded. Anna's reaction made him
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smile. She ran around, jumping and twirling, laughing and crying at the
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same time. In between her jumps she yelled: "I get to go! I get to go!"
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Watching her in all her excitement and joy, he felt comfortable with his
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decision for the first time. Yet, Tobias wondered if he'd done the right
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thing; he still wasn't sure whether his plan to disguise her would work.
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When Anna was out of breath, she ran back to Tobias and hugged him.
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"Thank you, Tobias!" Her eyes beamed with joy. "Thank you!"
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"Make sure you have everything ready for the journey, so I can add
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it on when I get back. Pack only what you need." Anna nodded; for once
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she was speechless.
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Tobias smiled at her. "I'll be back at sundown." He turned and made
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his way into the forest. Soon he disappeared from sight.
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Anna picked up the clean clothes and turned them over so they would
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dry faster. She ran in and out of the cabin, put the things she wanted
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to take in a bundle, and closed it up, only to open it up again and add
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one thing or take another out. The sun was beginning its downward path
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when Anna closed the bundle up for the last time and took it out to the
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wagon. She took a deep breath. "I get to go," she thought, "I really get
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to go." Overjoyed, she quickly picked up the now dry clothes, jumping
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excitedly from shirt to shirt, took them inside, and folded them. In her
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excitement she didn't notice the three men who stood at the edge of the
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forest on the other side of the creek.
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The men watched as the girl ran in and out of the cabin, the long
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red hair following her every movement like a tail. For a long time the
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men seemed frozen in position, then, without a word one turned and
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walked into the forest -- the other two followed.
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"It is Arom-Nok's child!" one of the men whispered in shock,
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breaking the silence. "I was right! I did see her two sennights ago when
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I took a wrong path! And you wouldn't believe me."
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"No! It can't be her! The wolves ate her years ago!" the other
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remarked. "No child can survive in the woods by itself."
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"No real child, but Arom-Nok's child can!" the first man stated.
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"Arom-Nok even provided her with a place to live! Nobody lives up here!
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Don't you remember that he's responsible for plagues and sufferin'? Told
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you this place's evil! We shouldn't have come here in the first place!"
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"No, you're wrong," the second man said thoughtfully. "It was the
|
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All-Creator himself who led us here. So we can take care of the evil in
|
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these woods once and for all."
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|
"What do you intend to do?" the third man inquired. The men looked
|
|
at each other. Neither of them was sure how to proceed. The first man
|
|
broke the silence.
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"I say we burn the place down and then take her to the village
|
|
where she'll join the fate of her mother." It only took a brief moment
|
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for the others to agree.
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"I'll go and get the girl," the first man said, "You two wait until
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I have her and then we'll set fire to the place." The other two nodded
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silently and watched as their companion approached the cabin.
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Anna packed her clothes in a separate bundle. She'd take them with
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her in the morning. When she heard a knock, she turned around in
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surprise.
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"Hello, anybody here?" a voice inquired. Anna held her breath and
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for a moment she didn't move. "Who would come up here?" she wondered.
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|
When the same voice spoke up again and repeated the question, Anna left
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her small room and stepped into the main room of the cabin. A burly man
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dressed in grey was standing in the doorway.
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|
"Hello," she said shyly, barely looking at the stranger.
|
|
"I got lost in the woods; do you know which way's to the nearest
|
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village?" he wanted to know. "Can you show me?"
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|
"Just follow the creek downstream," Anna said softly. She didn't
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move.
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"Speak up child," the man said, "I can't understand you. I'm a
|
|
little hard of hearin'." Anna repeated what she'd said.
|
|
"I can't hear you child, just point me in the right direction. My
|
|
hearin's really bad." He moved back into the sunlight. Anna stepped
|
|
outside and walked towards the creek. The man followed her swiftly, then
|
|
grabbed her, pulled her hands behind her back, and covered her mouth
|
|
before she could let out a scream. She struggled as hard as she could,
|
|
but the man held her tight.
|
|
"Stop struggling or I'll kill you right here," the man yelled at
|
|
her. Anna stopped in horror; she sensed he meant what he said. She
|
|
watched, terrified, as two men appeared from across the creek and walked
|
|
into the cabin. Menes later, the cabin burned. Tears ran down Anna's
|
|
cheek as she remembered her first home burning. "Not again!" she cried
|
|
inwardly, almost choking on the lump she felt in her throat, "Not
|
|
again!"
|
|
"Did you get some rope?" asked the man who was holding her.
|
|
"Sure did, and some cloth to keep her quiet," answered the man
|
|
grinning, binding Anna's hands behind her back, and tying the cloth so
|
|
she couldn't make a sound. "Don't need her screamin' all the way."
|
|
"Let's go!" the man grabbed her arm and dragged her along. She tried to
|
|
resist, but got a blow to her head instead.
|
|
"You walk, or you'll get more of those," the man threatened and
|
|
raised his hand again. Anna's head hurt. She let herself be led away,
|
|
weeping as she stumbled down the path.
|
|
"Tobias, help me!" she thought, "Please! Tobias! Help me!"
|
|
|
|
It was a long way up the hill to check the traps and disable them.
|
|
Not much game was in the traps these days. "Damn wolves" he swore out
|
|
loud when he found another trap with only a head in it. He'd have to
|
|
come up with something better than the current traps when he returned
|
|
from Dargon. Angry, Tobias walked on. "Three traps in one day emptied by
|
|
those damn beasts! I can't believe it!" he muttered to himself. "It
|
|
would have been nice to have some extra meat to take along to Dargon.
|
|
What am I going to tell Anna, when I get home empty-handed? The wolves
|
|
ate her dinner?" Tobias picked up a stick, slammed it against the
|
|
nearest tree, breaking it in half. "I better make my way home, no sense
|
|
in cleaning out more traps."
|
|
Frustrated, Tobias chose another path back. When he saw smoke
|
|
rising, he hurried down the hill. "Oh, Stevene! Please, don't let this
|
|
be true!" Tobias called out, hoping it was not his cabin going up in
|
|
flames. His hopes were crushed when he finally saw the clearing in which
|
|
his cabin was located. Where his cabin stood, the flames were rising
|
|
high into the sky.
|
|
"Anna!" he shouted, "Anna, where are you?" Only the sound of flames
|
|
consuming his cabin answered him. There was nothing he could do to stop
|
|
the fire; in a few bells his cabin would be only ash. The goats were
|
|
trying to get as far from the burning cabin as possible and galloped
|
|
into the forest the minute Tobias released them.
|
|
Tobias worked hard to stop the spread of the fire. Countless times
|
|
he ran back and forth, making sure none of the falling debris would set
|
|
the forest on fire. He had lost track of time and stopped to catch his
|
|
breath. He was sure the fire wouldn't spread now, but his cabin was
|
|
lost. He had moved his hand-wagon to safety earlier, and felt fortunate
|
|
that he still had it. Everything he had packed was still on there and
|
|
safe. He glanced to the spot where he'd left it. A small bundle on the
|
|
side caught his eye and he walked over to the wagon and opened it:
|
|
Anna's belongings.
|
|
"Anna!" Tobias called her until his voice was sore, but no answer.
|
|
His heart ached. The uncertainty of what had happened to her made him
|
|
worry so much he had trouble breathing. He could only hope that she
|
|
hadn't been trapped inside the cabin when the fire had broken out.
|
|
Tobias watched as the cabin collapsed and sent more debris flying,
|
|
keeping him busy preventing the spreading of the fire. Finally he had it
|
|
under control and he paused, feeling tired and miserable. Not knowing
|
|
what had happened to Anna was more than he could take. He searched the
|
|
area around the cabin until sunset without finding her. In his sorrow,
|
|
he forgot completely to search the other side of the creek.
|
|
|
|
The men walked fast alongside the creek, stopping only briefly
|
|
whenever Anna tripped and fell. By the time they sought shelter for the
|
|
night, Anna's knees were bloody, her arms bruised, and her head hurt.
|
|
She had fallen countless time, being unable to balance herself.
|
|
Breathing was difficult with the cloth covering, and partly filling, her
|
|
mouth. She was scared and winced in pain when one of them tied her to
|
|
the tree.
|
|
"Tobias, where are you? I need your help!" Only the cloth in her
|
|
mouth kept her from yelling at the top of her lungs.
|
|
For the first time, Anna got a good look at the men and memories of
|
|
events long forgotten surfaced again. "They look like the men who took
|
|
Mama away from me!" The realization was like a blow to the stomach and a
|
|
wave of nausea swept over her. "They were among the people who burnt my
|
|
house!" Anna swallowed hard. She watched as the men built a fire and sat
|
|
down to eat. "What are they going to do to me?" she asked herself, yet
|
|
was afraid to find out.
|
|
"We should get her some water; don't want to drag a corpse to the
|
|
village."
|
|
"You give it to her then," was the swift reply.
|
|
"Fine." One of the men got up and stood in front of Anna. "If you
|
|
make one sound, you won't get a drop of water. Understood?" Anna nodded
|
|
and he untied the gag. She took in a deep breath of fresh air and
|
|
quickly drank the water he offered her.
|
|
"That's enough." He took the cup and forced the gag back into her
|
|
mouth. Anna winced in pain. The man ignored her and settled back down
|
|
near the fire.
|
|
"Tell me," he inquired as he reached for the bread, "What makes you
|
|
think she is Arom-Nok's child? To me, she looks like any ordinary
|
|
child." The other men looked at him as if he was a youngster who needed
|
|
a lesson about the All-Creator.
|
|
"I'll tell you, but only 'cause you're new around here."
|
|
"Just tell him, and don't leave anything out," the other man
|
|
interjected.
|
|
"Well then, 'bout half score ago, this woman with her brat shows up
|
|
in our village, says her husband had died and she was looking for his
|
|
sister. 'Course the sister wasn't living anymore either, so the woman
|
|
moved into the empty shack. At first, all was fine, but then half the
|
|
people in the village got sick and died. The year after we lost most of
|
|
our goats to some sickness. First we didn't think the woman had anything
|
|
to do with it, but then we noticed that she disappeared into the woods
|
|
and didn't show up until days later. Said she was collecting herbs, but
|
|
we found out she was conspiring with Arom-Nok, plotting how to do us
|
|
more harm. She never joined in our circles, said she was praying alone.
|
|
One year we caught her in the woods, but whoever was with her then, just
|
|
vanished without a trace.
|
|
"And then that kid of hers. Just take a look! Have you ever seen
|
|
anyone with hair that red or such green eyes? No one who ever lived in
|
|
our village looked like that, and the mother didn't look like that
|
|
either. The year we caught the mother in the woods near the fairy
|
|
circle, all the children but one got sick, many died. You can guess
|
|
whose child didn't get sick! So we took action!"
|
|
"What did you do?"
|
|
"We made sure she couldn't do us any more harm, and then burnt her
|
|
place. We just didn't know what had happened to the brat. Thought the
|
|
wolves had gotten to her. Now we know, and we'll take care of her once
|
|
we're back in the village."
|
|
"And nothing bad happened in the village since you disposed of the
|
|
mother?"
|
|
"Nothing!"
|
|
"Then why do you want to harm the child?"
|
|
"Don't you understand? Her mother conspired with an evil god and
|
|
had this child!" The man pointed with his finger in Anna's direction.
|
|
"If we don't take care of the child for good, the evil will come back."
|
|
The man spoken to nodded. Quietly, the three men finished their meal.
|
|
"One of us should stand watch. Just in case."
|
|
"Don't you think she's secure enough?"
|
|
"Doesn't hurt to stand watch! Never know what happens in these
|
|
woods. And there are wolves around here."
|
|
"All right, I'll take first watch."
|
|
"Fine, wake me when it's time for the second watch," the one
|
|
sitting furthest away from Anna said. "And I wake you when it's your
|
|
turn," he added and pointed to the remaining one. The man nodded and
|
|
settled down beside the fire. Soon the two were asleep and started to
|
|
snore. The other man sat down beside them and stirred the fire.
|
|
|
|
Anna was cold and uncomfortable. She'd been trying to shift into a
|
|
better position, but the ties made that almost impossible. The man on
|
|
watch, the same one who'd given her water earlier, approached Anna and
|
|
gestured her to be silent. Then he took the gag out of her mouth. Anna
|
|
took a deep breath and licked her dry lips. Silently he put a cup to her
|
|
mouth and let her drink some of the water.
|
|
"Name's Drew," he whispered, "Don't make a sound. Don't want to
|
|
have to put the gag back in. Understand?" Anna nodded. Drew took a sharp
|
|
stone, went behind the tree, and started to tear the rope with it. Soon
|
|
the rope gave and Anna quickly brushed the remains of the rope off her
|
|
wrists. She rubbed her badly hurting wrists. Drew stepped in front of
|
|
her and whispered: "Listen closely and remember! Name's Drew. I'm a
|
|
merchant from Dargon, selling cloth. I have a stand in the marketplace
|
|
there. I've been searching for you for a long time. Knew your mother.
|
|
There are some things you need to know, but I can't tell you here. See
|
|
that you make it to Dargon for the spring festival. You need to follow
|
|
the water downstream for several days. Walk on the stones or in the
|
|
water for the first days so the men can't track you. Pass the villages
|
|
by night; don't let anyone see you if possible. Understand?" Anna nodded
|
|
again.
|
|
"Here, eat slowly." He handed her a piece of bread and watched her
|
|
eat it. When she was done he gave her another.
|
|
"Save that for later! And now go!" He pointed towards the creek and
|
|
watched her disappear.
|
|
|
|
Anna made her way to the creek, careful not to step on twigs or
|
|
make a sound that could rouse the men. She felt dazed and confused, but
|
|
she was free again and would go and find Tobias. It was dark, but
|
|
Nochturon's light aided her in finding her way. When she finally reached
|
|
the creek, Anna was exhausted and hungry. Her body ached from the
|
|
exertion of the day. She sat down to eat the rest of the bread, then
|
|
quenched her thirst with the water from the creek.
|
|
Taking a deep breath she forced herself to go on, to get as much
|
|
distance as she could between the men and herself before the other two
|
|
discovered her escape.
|
|
"I have to get home, find Tobias, and then go to Dargon," Anna
|
|
muttered to herself. "I hope he is still by the cabin." And then she
|
|
remembered, "The cabin! They burnt it down!" Gathering all her strength
|
|
she pushed forward.
|
|
The water in the creek was ice-cold. Anna stepped reluctantly in,
|
|
but Drew was right. They wouldn't be able to trace her if she walked on
|
|
the stones or in the water. Whenever possible Anna stepped onto the
|
|
stones in the creek, briefly resting. It became increasingly difficult
|
|
for her to see. Clouds covered the moon, and then the rain began to
|
|
fall, lightly at first, but soon the rain came pouring down. Within a
|
|
mene Anna was drenched. She climbed out of the creek and continued her
|
|
journey upstream on solid ground. The rain would obliterate all traces
|
|
of her footsteps. "I need to get home! I need to get home!" was all she
|
|
could think about. Wet, cold, and tired as she was, she stumbled on,
|
|
each step becoming more and more difficult.
|
|
Dawn came slowly. Anna had no idea how much farther she had to go.
|
|
The rain subsided. She tried to call Tobias, but her voice failed her.
|
|
She leaned against a tree, shivering in her wet garments. "I. Have. To
|
|
get. Home!" She dragged herself forward, but her strength was gone and
|
|
the events from the night before caught up with her. The world turned
|
|
black before her eyes and she collapsed.
|
|
|
|
Heavy rain woke Tobias the next morning. The fire was out; only the
|
|
fireplace remained of his cabin, the rest was ash. He took a long stick
|
|
and moved towards the remains to find out if Anna had been in there.
|
|
Slowly he probed the ashes with his stick, salvaging the few things the
|
|
fire hadn't consumed. He found his knife blades and pocketed them.
|
|
Tobias was both relieved and worried at the same time when he found out
|
|
that Anna hadn't been in the cabin.
|
|
Looking pensive, Tobias stood in front of the remains. The rain
|
|
from the morning had obliterated all signs of whoever might have been
|
|
there to set his place on fire. At this point it really didn't matter
|
|
anymore; there was nothing he could do to change it. All he wanted was
|
|
to find Anna, to make sure she was safe again. He wasn't sure where he
|
|
should begin searching. The past six years had been some of the happiest
|
|
in his life. To him, Anna had been a blessing. Sent from Stevene.
|
|
Tobias finally moved toward his hand-wagon, looking for some dry
|
|
clothes, and then remembered; he'd left them in the cabin. He sighed
|
|
deeply. He would have to stay in his wet clothes, not something he
|
|
looked forward to. He hoped that the sun would come out soon and dry
|
|
him. His eyes scanned the edge of the forest, hoping to spot Anna, but
|
|
to no avail.
|
|
Tobias packed his findings into his hand-wagon. "The sooner I
|
|
leave, the better!" he thought and started pulling. The soggy ground
|
|
made it difficult to move the wagon. After a few steps he stopped. "If I
|
|
leave and Anna shows up, she won't be able to find me." Tobias was torn
|
|
inside. He paced back and forth between his wagon and the site of the
|
|
fire, uncertain what to do. "Must have been those villagers who did
|
|
this! First they set my place on fire and then they take Anna." He
|
|
stopped momentarily to kick a stone out of the way, then continued his
|
|
pacing. "I need to go and find her!" Determined, he went back to his
|
|
wagon and started pulling.
|
|
Tobias made slow progress. He traveled alongside the creek,
|
|
stopping frequently, calling for Anna. The farther away from the cabin
|
|
he got, the less hope he had of finding her.
|
|
"Anna!" he shouted as loud as his voice would allow. "Anna!" but no
|
|
one answered his call. Around mid-afternoon, Tobias was tired and looked
|
|
for a place for the night. His eyes were searching both sides of the
|
|
creek, when he noticed a movement on the other side on the ground. He
|
|
left the wagon and hurried across to investigate.
|
|
"By Stevene! Anna!" Tobias cried out. His eyes took it in all at
|
|
once: the girl on the ground, covered with dirt, injured, and wet.
|
|
Carefully, he picked her up. She felt cold and was very pale, but
|
|
breathing. Tobias carried her to his wagon. He had to get her out of the
|
|
wet clothing. Quickly, he unloaded the wagon, opened a bundle of fur,
|
|
and spread half of it over the wagon. Then he peeled the wet clothing
|
|
off the girl, laid her on the fur and covered her with the contents of a
|
|
second bundle of fur. It would have to do until they reached shelter.
|
|
Tobias thought for a while which direction he should go. He didn't
|
|
dare speculate as to what had happened to Anna to get her in such a
|
|
state. He'd seen the bruises and scrapes on her body. He wasn't sure
|
|
going to Dargon was such a good idea after all. He would have to think
|
|
about it. He checked on Anna. She was still very pale, but breathed more
|
|
easily. The fur helped warming her up. He would have to find a place
|
|
where she could recover. The small settlement near the Coldwell river,
|
|
where his friends Zarit and Jerel lived, came to his mind. They would
|
|
surely help.
|
|
Tobias took a deep breath and began to pull the wagon. He moved
|
|
away from the creek, taking the path into the forest. It would mean a
|
|
detour of half a day, but he felt safer that way. He was glad to have
|
|
Anna back and while he was pulling the wagon, he made plans to build a
|
|
new cabin.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Talisman Zero
|
|
Part 2
|
|
by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
|
|
<John.White@Drexel.Edu>
|
|
Mid-fall, 2216 ID
|
|
|
|
Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 12-1
|
|
|
|
Kendil lay alone on Captain Eldinan's large bed, and stared
|
|
listlessly around her sparsely furnished cabin. It was about half the
|
|
size of the alkaehran hold, and contained only the bed, a table against
|
|
one wall, a sea chest under the table, and a private bathroom behind a
|
|
door in one corner. The only decoration in the main room was a
|
|
glass-chip mosaic on the opposite wall, showing a scene of water
|
|
crashing onto rocks. It has been made, he understood, by Eldinan
|
|
herself.
|
|
Aside from that one piece of art, there was nothing else fancy in
|
|
the room. No extravagant trappings, no gold or jewels strewn around,
|
|
only simple furnishings in a simple room for the fascinating Captain
|
|
Eldinan.
|
|
The captain was on deck at the moment, overseeing the crew. The
|
|
_Typhoon Dancer_ had enjoyed a week of good weather since that last
|
|
storm, but the captain treated every day the same, and preferred to keep
|
|
her eye on things in calm, steady breeze, or storm.
|
|
Kendil wished she were here, though. Then he would have other
|
|
things to do than think. He smiled as his thoughts turned to those other
|
|
things, but the smile faded as the object he fondled recalled to him the
|
|
reason for his distress.
|
|
He looked down at the wooden chain he had been carving that day a
|
|
week ago that the captain had decided to invite him into her bed.
|
|
Thoughts of good fortune and misfortune chased each other through his
|
|
brain, and he wondered whether he was mad to be feeling even the least
|
|
bit unhappy at the present moment.
|
|
Perhaps not unhappy, for what was there to be unhappy about? He
|
|
wasn't sleeping in those confining hammocks any more. He wasn't sleeping
|
|
alone, either, and the captain was quite talented when it came to bed
|
|
games. They talked, too, and sometimes their conversation was as
|
|
fulfilling to him as their more carnal intercourse. She was being slowly
|
|
revealed to him as his perfect woman, or as perfect as he was likely to
|
|
meet, given that the gods no longer walked among mortals. He felt that
|
|
he might even be falling in love with her.
|
|
And yet, he still found himself discontented.
|
|
He ran his fingers over the smooth, carved wooden links he had
|
|
made, and worried at that discontent. The wooden chain had been started
|
|
as an exercise; his father had taught him the trick, and he was just
|
|
keeping in practice. But then Nikkeus had mentioned in rapid-passing
|
|
that he had noticed him carving, and at that moment the chain had been
|
|
destined to belong to the musician.
|
|
And then, Eldinan had turned her attentions on him. There hadn't
|
|
been time for a choosing between the two; he had been flattered by her
|
|
interest, then had accepted her invitation, and then it had been done.
|
|
He hadn't expected the captain to maintain her interest in him. He had
|
|
continued and finished his carving, thinking to be back in the alkaehran
|
|
hold in days, and then asking one of the crew if there were someplace
|
|
private he could take his music maker.
|
|
But that hadn't happened. The sun crossed the yardarm again and
|
|
again, he and the captain began to grow close, the chain was completed,
|
|
and he found himself thinking about Nikkeus almost as often as he
|
|
thought about Eldinan.
|
|
He wrapped the chain around one fist and closed his eyes. He
|
|
conjured up an image of both of them behind his eyelids, and tried to
|
|
compare them. Tall Nikkeus next to shorter Eldinan. Chestnut haired
|
|
Eldinan next to blond Nikkeus. Both fair, but Eldinan had the features
|
|
of a pure Fretheodan, while Nikkeus had that Nirmalel nose. Eldinan's
|
|
grey eyes were mysterious, while Nikkeus' light green eyes were lively,
|
|
happy, open. There was nothing to choose between them -- Kendil found
|
|
himself drawn to both images before him.
|
|
He imagined that he reached out and touched both, caressed the
|
|
cheeks of both, kissed the lips of both. He ran his imagined hands
|
|
across both chests -- Eldinan's curved, full, soft; Nikkeus' flat and
|
|
hard, each with different nipples, both kinds interesting, both kinds
|
|
exciting.
|
|
His phantom hands roved further, touching arms, hips, thighs,
|
|
stomachs, groins. He remembered the night of the storm, lying with
|
|
Nikkeus. He remembered the next night in this bed with the captain.
|
|
Which had been more fulfilling? Which had been better? Which, which,
|
|
which?
|
|
Why did he feel the need to compare, the need to choose? Wasn't the
|
|
decision made? He couldn't turn away from the captain for a young
|
|
teraehra, he just couldn't; and anyway, he didn't know Nikkeus as well
|
|
as he knew Eldinan. What if the musician had taken nothing but a
|
|
moment's pleasure from that stormy night? What if his discontent were
|
|
just some kind of false fear of worth? If only there were a priest of
|
|
Reesera on board -- he needed to talk this out with someone, and an
|
|
acolyte of the God of Love was the perfect person for the task. Maybe he
|
|
would have to wait until landfall at Wudamund. That should only be
|
|
another two weeks, after all.
|
|
Surely that wasn't too long. Surely he could survive fourteen days
|
|
of doubts and dreams, strange discontent in the midst of perfect
|
|
contentment. Two weeks of thoughts of warm, firm flesh pressing against
|
|
him, pressing against yielding flesh, grey eyes staring into his,
|
|
staring into green eyes, staring down past his chest to a face with a
|
|
Nirmalel nose, staring up along a flat stomach past beautiful breasts to
|
|
a Fretheodan face, thinking about choices, why choose, choose, choose
|
|
... choose ...
|
|
|
|
Captain Eldinan found herself whistling absently as she stood on
|
|
the quarterdeck and surveyed the _Typhoon Dancer_. Knowing she was a
|
|
lousy whistler, she stopped -- the crew didn't deserve the punishment --
|
|
but continued to smile. She certainly should be happy enough to whistle.
|
|
Kendil was an amazing young man, full of skills, full of energy, full of
|
|
stories, full of wonder. That chain he had carved -- simple,
|
|
utilitarian, almost mundane, and yet so intricate when examined, so
|
|
beautiful. She had seen works of art made out of wood, but that chain --
|
|
it was just amazing, just like Kendil.
|
|
She had picked the alkaehra for an afternoon's diversion, but she
|
|
had found far more. She had certainly found her match in bed, but his
|
|
talents extended beyond carnal pleasures as well. Those magic hands were
|
|
matched by an inventive mind, and a well of energy. And if sometimes he
|
|
needed a little help directing his ideas, a hint of a push to get him
|
|
going, well she certainly had practice in that sort of thing and she
|
|
wasn't one of those who hated taking her livelihood into her off duty
|
|
hours.
|
|
And then she was whistling again, with a grin on her face that
|
|
almost made it ache.
|
|
Mooribek, who was working on some lines nearby, looked up and
|
|
grinned in turn. "A happy cap'n means a happy ship, I've always heard
|
|
said." she quipped. "But we've already got a musician a'playin', Cap'n,
|
|
for all his notes are sadder'n a multiple funeral. So mayhap you could
|
|
leave off your 'competition'?"
|
|
"Second!" Eldinan called out. "Five lashes for this swab, for
|
|
insulting the captain!" The smile on her face and her hearty laugh
|
|
ensured that everyone knew the joke. Mooribek smiled and saluted, and
|
|
went back to the ropes. Out of curiosity, Eldinan turned her attention
|
|
to the musician that her crew member had talked about. And she made sure
|
|
to concentrate on not whistling.
|
|
Now that she was listening, she heard the melancholy notes coming
|
|
from the bow. She made her way forward, and found the musician sitting
|
|
atop one of the storage casks lashed into place just short of the bow.
|
|
He was bent over his instrument, which was placed across his knees,
|
|
intently working on the strings with the fingers of one hand, and
|
|
turning a crank set into the side with the other. The music that was
|
|
produced was not quite like anything she had ever heard, and she just
|
|
listened for a bit to the haunting melody. As Mooribek had said, there
|
|
was sadness in every note, sadness in the way his fingers moved, sadness
|
|
in the droop of his shoulders and neck. If the music hadn't been so
|
|
exquisite, she would have ordered him to stop immediately. Instead, she
|
|
wondered at the source of the sadness, and listened, rapt.
|
|
When there was a pause in the music, Eldinan shook herself a bit
|
|
and said, "You play magnificently. What kind of instrument is that? I've
|
|
never seen or heard its like before."
|
|
The musician looked up, startled, and Eldinan found herself staring
|
|
into his almost grass-green eyes. He had a handsome face, quite
|
|
prominently branded as a northerner with that enormous Nirmalel nose and
|
|
such light blond hair. And those eyes were just amazing!
|
|
She caught a couple of different emotions crossing his face before
|
|
he looked back down at his instrument. What had they been ... annoyance?
|
|
For being disturbed maybe. Envy? Well, who wouldn't envy the captain.
|
|
Anger? At what?
|
|
"The instrument is my own, Captain," he said softly.
|
|
Eldinan found herself impressed. There had to be a lot of talent in
|
|
the man before her, if he could play as well as that *and* make
|
|
instruments as well. She asked, "So, what may I call you, besides a most
|
|
excellent musician?"
|
|
Another pause, and the young man began, "I am Terant Nikkeus,
|
|
Captain. The instrument is just a combination of a viol and some drone
|
|
strings that are bowed mechanically by the action of this crank here.
|
|
The pitch of the drones can be varied slightly with these keys here. I
|
|
call it a vibrolin, but that's just what I call it but since I made it I
|
|
guess I can do that --"
|
|
He stopped abruptly and blushed, dropping his head again as if
|
|
ashamed.
|
|
Eldinan leaned against the rail and contemplated the young man.
|
|
There was something about him that aroused her maternal instincts, or
|
|
was it her captainly instincts, the ones that made her want to do her
|
|
best for her crew? He wasn't part of her crew -- he was one of the
|
|
teraehran bound for Wudamund -- but she still wanted to do something to
|
|
help him. He was just *so* sad -- surely she could do something about
|
|
that.
|
|
"So, Nikkeus, you are a player as well as a maker of instruments.
|
|
And you are a right handsome lad, as well. So why do you sit in my bow
|
|
playing music to make the fishes weep?"
|
|
Nikkeus looked up at her with an open expression, and said, "You."
|
|
She waited for more, but nothing more came. "Me?" she asked.
|
|
Nikkeus looked down again, paused, and said eventually, "Kendil."
|
|
Again, nothing more came. Kendil and her?
|
|
"I respect your privacy, but you make me curious. You say that I am
|
|
part of the cause of your sadness, but I have never met you before
|
|
today. I would appreciate some explanation of that."
|
|
Nikkeus was silent for a long time, and Eldinan was about to shrug
|
|
and turn away, when his voice started up. "The storm. That night, I was
|
|
in the galley. It's a steady place, and I couldn't sleep ..."
|
|
She listened to the tale of what two of the soldiers aboard her
|
|
ship had got up to that storm-tossed night. As interesting as the tale
|
|
was, of Kendil and Nikkeus happening on each other and ending up in each
|
|
others' arms, she found herself almost captivated by the face of the
|
|
young man speaking. His mouth was amazingly mobile, shaping each word
|
|
perfectly. His lips danced, and she was nearly hypnotized by them.
|
|
She found herself drawn to the musician, and those captainly
|
|
instincts he aroused in her started to become a different sort of
|
|
arousal. Handsome, talented, and full of such sadness, who could fail to
|
|
be moved? But she already had a lover who fulfilled her. She didn't need
|
|
another. But if only ...
|
|
The tale continued to the next day, when Kendil had left the
|
|
musician and later, she had come along and taken Kendil away to her
|
|
cabin, where he had been ever since. Only figuratively, of course -- the
|
|
alkaehra had participated in drills every day, and had free run of the
|
|
ship as normal.
|
|
Nikkeus finished, "... and so that's why I'm playing such sad
|
|
music, because I've been left once again and I suppose I should have
|
|
expected it. After all, it's the captain this time isn't it? I'm no
|
|
competition for you. So I'm sorry if my playing is upsetting anyone.
|
|
I'll stop if you want."
|
|
Eldinan blinked a few times in the silence, marshaling her thoughts
|
|
and getting her emotions under control. Finally she said, "That is quite
|
|
a story, Nikkeus. I'm sorry that it seems that I've taken your man, but
|
|
... well, he said nothing to me of other ... commitments. Please,
|
|
continue to play. Good music is good music, no matter what its
|
|
motivation."
|
|
She paused again, still flustered by the soul-baring story, and not
|
|
yet certain of her reaction to it. She found herself briefly angry with
|
|
Kendil for some reason, even though she knew perfectly well that no
|
|
promises had been made between the two men. And yet, Nikkeus had
|
|
seemingly invested their time together with more meaning than Kendil
|
|
had. Or was that true? Had Kendil really felt nothing more than lust for
|
|
the musician, or had he simply not had the time to express any deeper
|
|
feelings? Her own part in Nikkeus' story, that she thought had been
|
|
peripheral, might have been more important than she had realized.
|
|
Uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts were taking her, she
|
|
said, "Ah ... I'll take my leave, now. I'm sorry for any hurt that's
|
|
been done you, but thank you for giving me your tale. Good day."
|
|
She turned away from the dejected musician, who hadn't looked up
|
|
from his head-down position. But before she had taken three steps, the
|
|
music began again, just as melancholy as before. She sighed and
|
|
continued across the deck, through the door under the quarterdeck, down
|
|
the short corridor, and through the door at its end into her cabin.
|
|
Kendil was lying on the bed, worrying his wooden chain like
|
|
Tendilask prayer beads. If he had been playing an instrument, Eldinan
|
|
thought he might be able to accompany Nikkeus, so mournful was his
|
|
expression.
|
|
Recalling the story she had just heard, and the fact that the
|
|
person on the bed in front of her had featured prominently in it, she
|
|
wondered whether the source of both sadnesses might be the same. She
|
|
walked across the cabin and sat down next to Kendil. She placed her hand
|
|
on his thigh, and said, "And what's got you frowning so, lover?"
|
|
Kendil looked at her and smiled tentatively. He put a hand over
|
|
hers on his thigh, sighed deeply, and said, "Nothing. Nothing at all."
|
|
Eldinan shook her head and frowned. "I don't believe that." She
|
|
moved her hand to the bed on the far side of him, and leaned over him.
|
|
"Don't hide things from me, Kendil. Please."
|
|
Kendil looked upset at that. He said, "B-but ..." and turned away
|
|
from her piercing gaze.
|
|
Eldinan lifted a hand to turn his head back to face her. She looked
|
|
deeply into his brown eyes, and said, "Tell me." He blinked and stared
|
|
back, but didn't say anything. "I could make it an order. You may serve
|
|
under Jenkil, but you're still a part of my crew." She softened her
|
|
expression lightened her tone, so that he would know it was a joke --
|
|
she would never bring her rank into her bed. But maybe the joke would
|
|
loosen his tongue.
|
|
He smiled in response, shut his eyes for a moment, and then opened
|
|
them again. "I was just thinking about ... Nikkeus."
|
|
"What about Nikkeus?" Eldinan asked, pretty sure of the answer.
|
|
After hesitating for another moment, Kendil said, "He ... he and I
|
|
spent the night of the storm together. In the galley. And it was a very
|
|
-- intense -- experience. We never really got to talk about it, though,
|
|
and then you came along, and ... well, I find myself wondering.
|
|
Wondering about that night, and him, and what might have been."
|
|
Eldinan sat up then, but maintained eye contact. She thought about
|
|
these two young men, each pining for the other in their own way. She
|
|
asked seriously, "Do you regret accepting my request of a week ago?"
|
|
Kendil's answer was immediate. "Oh, no! I don't know if I've ever
|
|
been happier than I have this past week. Well, except maybe the night of
|
|
the storm. That's the difficult part of it -- I think that I could find
|
|
happiness with either you or Nikkeus. I don't think I could choose
|
|
between you. But, of course, I already have, I guess."
|
|
Eldinan found herself surprised by the things she was thinking just
|
|
then. She should have been outraged that her current lover was also
|
|
equally attracted to a barbarian musical teraehra. She was a ship's
|
|
captain, not to mention a Child of Aelther, a pure-blood Fretheodan,
|
|
after all!
|
|
But Eldinan knew that was just her upbringing talking. She knew
|
|
that feelings didn't follow economic or political station, and the heart
|
|
didn't care about what part of the empire one's parents came from. She
|
|
knew that Nikkeus had just as much of a hold on Kendil's heart as she
|
|
did.
|
|
The question was, what was she going to do about it? There were
|
|
only two choices ... or were there more?
|
|
She found herself contemplating that last thought, wondering where
|
|
it had sprung from. She mulled it over for a moment, and then decided,
|
|
"Why not?"
|
|
"I've got a proposal for you, Kendil, and it goes like this ..."
|
|
|
|
Nikkeus felt better for having explained his feelings to the
|
|
captain. He didn't think that her knowing would make any difference in
|
|
the way things were, but at least someone knew about it all. Now at
|
|
least someone would understand the suicide note he was contemplating
|
|
writing at the end of his term of service.
|
|
He continued sitting on deck playing his mournful melodies because
|
|
almost anything was better than listening to his squad mates sitting
|
|
around in their cabin and joking about conquests past, present, and
|
|
future, both amorous and martial. His vibrolin was his second favorite
|
|
instrument, and it often brought strangers up to ask him about its
|
|
distinctive and unique sound. And some conversation to take his mind off
|
|
of his troubles would be nice.
|
|
The sun was nearing the horizon when a shadow fell over him. He
|
|
didn't need to see his instrument to play it, but the shadow meant
|
|
someone was near, so he looked up.
|
|
Nikkeus saw Corrik standing there, looking at the instrument on his
|
|
lap. He knew that Corrik was the third in command of the vessel, even
|
|
though Nikkeus probably had four or five years on the man. Briefly
|
|
wondering what circumstances had led to Corrik's rank, he said, "Yes?"
|
|
"Your pardon, Terant Nikkeus. I was entranced by the lovely sound
|
|
of your instrument. Ah, the captain asked me to request your presence in
|
|
her cabin at once."
|
|
"Why?" asked Nikkeus.
|
|
"She didn't say. My apologies. I've got to get back to my duties.
|
|
Fair sailing under Aelther's aegis."
|
|
Corrik sketched a courtesy salute, and walked away. Nikkeus
|
|
stretched his legs and slowly stood up. He was used to sitting cross
|
|
legged for long periods, but even so it took him some time to get them
|
|
used to moving again. He stood, slipped the picks off his fingertips,
|
|
gathered up his vibrolin, and started walking aft, wondering the while
|
|
what the captain could want. Did this have anything to do with their
|
|
talk earlier? If so, what? Was this trouble? What else could it be?
|
|
He reached the door that led under the quarterdeck, and walked down
|
|
the short passage. He stopped before the door at the far end and
|
|
knocked. He waited for a moment, and when no one answered, he opened it
|
|
and stepped in.
|
|
The room he entered was medium-sized for a room aboard a ship, but
|
|
it was far less ornamented than he would have expected. A simple bed,
|
|
table, and chest, and for decoration, only a mosaic on one wall. Nothing
|
|
fancy or flashy. Not what he would have expected of a captain's cabin.
|
|
And he certainly wasn't expecting what awaited him on the bed
|
|
itself. Because what he saw was Kendil, arms spread wide and tied to the
|
|
posts of the simple headboard, wearing only a smile and a sheet covering
|
|
him from the waist down.
|
|
"Ah ... what?" was all that Nikkeus could manage. Kendil opened his
|
|
mouth to reply, but at that moment, the captain herself emerged from the
|
|
other door in the room and stopped, startled by Nikkeus' presence.
|
|
"By Aelther, this wasn't supposed to happen," Eldinan said. "I told
|
|
Corrik to wait before asking you here, Nikkeus, to give me time to get
|
|
clear. I've got to teach that man to listen to *all* of an order!"
|
|
She frowned and paced for a moment, then seemed to come to a
|
|
decision. She said, "Well, this should have been Kendil's speech. He's
|
|
tied to the bed in such a way that he couldn't have done it himself, so
|
|
that you would believe that he was telling the truth about my gift, but
|
|
maybe you will give it more credence to hear it directly from me. The
|
|
long and short of it, Nikkeus, is I am going to give you a chance with
|
|
Kendil here."
|
|
She didn't pause for Nikkeus' surprised "What?" but continued,
|
|
"After hearing your story on deck, I came back here to find Kendil
|
|
moping as well, for similar reasons, and that got me thinking. Being
|
|
with him makes me happy, but I can't be with him every moment. Being
|
|
with him makes you happy, and he tells me that being with the each of us
|
|
makes him happy. So, during those times that I must be with the crew, I
|
|
am willing to allow you and he to be together.
|
|
"If anyone becomes uncomfortable with the arrangement, we will have
|
|
to work out another solution at that time. But for now, this is it. He's
|
|
my gift to you, all tied and ready. Have fun!"
|
|
Nikkeus was thinking furiously as Eldinan walked toward the door.
|
|
The captain had certainly surprised him with this situation, which was
|
|
very generous, and the product of an open mind. But there was another
|
|
opportunity waiting, one that she just might be open to. Even though he
|
|
felt he might be straining her generosity, he decided to act anyway.
|
|
So before the captain reached the door, he turned and said, "Stay."
|
|
Eldinan stopped, faced him, and asked, "What?"
|
|
"Stay, Captain. I thought that if there might be an attraction
|
|
between you and I, then perhaps instead of two twos, why not one three?
|
|
We could at least try. That way there won't be any jealousy. And maybe
|
|
all three of us could be happy all of the time, instead of switching off
|
|
between you and me."
|
|
Eldinan said slowly, "I hadn't thought of that. I don't know,
|
|
though ... I mean, ..."
|
|
Kendil spoke up eagerly. "Nikkeus has a point, Elin. Why not give
|
|
it a try? You were willing to share me after all. Why not share me in
|
|
person? And I have a feeling that you are no more resistant to that
|
|
Nirmalel face than I am."
|
|
Nikkeus nodded, and said, "Try. Please?"
|
|
After an almost interminable pause, Eldinan finally shook her head,
|
|
laughed ruefully, and said, "Why not? I'm already beginning to think I'm
|
|
crazy to imagine letting you two carry on together behind my back. Why
|
|
not participate?"
|
|
She smiled at the two of them and walked over to the bed. Nikkeus
|
|
automatically walked over to the other side. Eldinan reached for the
|
|
ropes at Kendil's wrists, and said, "I guess these have served their
|
|
purpose. One of Kendil's best assets are his hands: it would be a shame
|
|
to keep them restrained."
|
|
Nikkeus smiled at the recollection that Eldinan's comment elicited.
|
|
His attention was fixed on the movement of Eldinan's hands, and he was
|
|
wondering how much of an asset her hands were when Kendil interrupted
|
|
his thoughts with, "So, Nikk, why don't you unwrap the rest of your
|
|
package now?"
|
|
Nikkeus looked down into Kendil's grinning face. The alkaehra was
|
|
doing his best to indicate, without the use of his hands, the sheet that
|
|
was covering him. Nikkeus reached for the edge of the sheet and pulled
|
|
it away to reveal that Kendil *was* in fact wearing nothing but his
|
|
smile.
|
|
Eldinan had freed both of Kendil's wrists by that time, and said,
|
|
"It looks like the rest of us need to lose some clothes. Why don't you
|
|
put those hands to use, Kendil, and help us out?"
|
|
As Kendil reached for him, ending up doing more teasing than
|
|
undressing, Nikkeus felt better than he had since boarding the _Typhoon
|
|
Dancer_. He watched eagerly as the captain began to unbutton her vest,
|
|
and thought that maybe he wouldn't be writing that suicide note after
|
|
all.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
The Beast
|
|
by Mike Adams
|
|
<meadams@sunherald.infi.net>
|
|
7-8 Firil 1015
|
|
|
|
"Jaaaron! Guardsman Jaron!" Sergeant Guralnik's shout echoed
|
|
through the corridors of the cells below Dargon Keep. Jaron had the
|
|
night duty this sennight, and Sgt. Guralnik had already caught him
|
|
sleeping once, two mornings ago. The jailer had little time for
|
|
layabouts, but the strange star in the sky had stretched the duke's men
|
|
thinly. In the end, the veteran guardsman felt relieved to have someone
|
|
with which to split the duty.
|
|
"I'm down here, sergeant," came Jaron's thin, reedy voice, "At the
|
|
small cell."
|
|
Guralnik strolled down the wide corridor which separated the cells,
|
|
four large ones on the right side, five smaller ones on the left. Jaron
|
|
was standing in front of the small cell at the end of the corridor,
|
|
lighting the last of the torches that relieved only a small part of the
|
|
darkness that pervaded the dungeon of Dargon Keep.
|
|
Guardsman Jaron was a short, slight, man whose tabard hung limply
|
|
from his narrow shoulders, an unconscious parody of a typical hulking
|
|
soldier. His eyes were what everyone remembered; they flitted from sight
|
|
to sight, never seeming to rest. People seldom trusted him because of
|
|
this tendency, since he rarely looked anyone in the eye for long.
|
|
Guralnik was aware that Jaron had obtained his position through the
|
|
good offices of an uncle who was owed a favor by someone in the Duke's
|
|
court. He wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Liriss made a
|
|
regular, though small, contribution to Jaron's pay packet, although the
|
|
young man had done nothing, as yet, to earn the crime boss' coin.
|
|
Guralnik might have been surprised at the number of payments made to
|
|
persons working in the Keep, but being an honest man, he had never been
|
|
approached.
|
|
As he went by the cells the sergeant's eyes quickly swept the
|
|
enclosures, noting new arrivals and determining whether anyone had
|
|
escaped their due punishment by dying in the night. When he got to the
|
|
end cell, he had to look twice.
|
|
"By Ol's balls, what's a woman doing in my cells?" he shouted.
|
|
"Jaron, are you mad?" He turned to Jaron, who stood grinning, looking
|
|
into the cell.
|
|
"Captain Koren's order, sergeant," said Jaron. "She killed her pa
|
|
last night, and someone else a few years back. The city guard's full up
|
|
they said, with all those troublemakers from the market square preaching
|
|
against the new star, so they brought her here." He pointed into the
|
|
cell, at the two men cowering in the corner farthest from the girl.
|
|
"Those two won't go near her."
|
|
After having heard their story, Guralnik had to agree. The two men,
|
|
servants in the castle, had gotten drunk three nights ago and decided to
|
|
steal the jewelry of a visiting noblewoman. The lady had woken during
|
|
the commission of the crime and had immediately attacked the pair, who
|
|
quickly soiled themselves and had been led to the dungeon by a pair of
|
|
chuckling guards.
|
|
The sergeant turned his attention to the other occupant of the
|
|
cell. A young girl, he could tell: about fourteen years old. She sat
|
|
cross-legged near the door, a vacant stare on her face. She wore a loose
|
|
shift, so it was difficult to see much of her body.
|
|
"She's a looker, sergeant, isn't she?" said Jaron, who had
|
|
apparently seen more of the girl when she had been brought to the cells.
|
|
"And she tells stories, good stories. I think I've seen her in the
|
|
market square, telling tales for a Scrod. I listened to her most of the
|
|
night. That sure enough made my shift go by fast."
|
|
Guralnik shooed the bemused Jaron out of the dungeon and settled
|
|
down for a quiet day. He kept an ear out for the girl, but she made no
|
|
sounds while he was there. And although Sergeant Guralnik was unaware of
|
|
it, the beast had awakened.
|
|
|
|
"Beware the four-lipped beast, my son." The girl was telling a new
|
|
story, and Jaron, who had arrived early for his shift for the first time
|
|
in his life, listened eagerly. He was seated on a stool outside the
|
|
small cell, staring intently at the girl.
|
|
"Those were the last words my father spoke to me. After that, he
|
|
was too busy trying to breathe to say any more." A slow smile spread
|
|
across her lips as she remembered, but it didn't reach her pale blue
|
|
eyes, which were seeing events far beyond the cell walls.
|
|
"My father, so my mother told me, hated women. Why he kept her is a
|
|
mystery to me, but he did, until she revealed she was with child.
|
|
Believing he had been cursed to die without progeny, my father assumed
|
|
she had been unfaithful. He flew into a rage, beat my mother, and then
|
|
used her to pay off a debt he had incurred while rolling the bones with
|
|
Tulik, a stevedore.
|
|
"Tulik was a big man, with simple tastes. He would either beat my
|
|
mother, or brutally use her. After a month, my mother went to my
|
|
father's home, and begged him to take her back. He laughed at her, and
|
|
shut the door.
|
|
"That was my mother's life, and my coming changed very little for
|
|
her. She said that I made her happier, and that it was easier to endure
|
|
Tulik than before, but that may have just been a matter of perspective.
|
|
I cannot remember a day in which my mother was not being beaten with
|
|
tongue or fist.
|
|
"I could not have been more than seven years old when Tulik started
|
|
to take an interest in me. It was another year before he began touching
|
|
me, and not long after that, he visited me in the night. I know now what
|
|
happened then, but at the time it was more than my mind could bear. I am
|
|
sure I went mad, at least for a while, and I remember little of that
|
|
period in my life.
|
|
"Repetition, however, will render even the most horrific act
|
|
mundane, and I regained my senses over time. Tulik's house settled into
|
|
a routine in which abuse and terror were so commonplace as not to be
|
|
noticed. At times my mother or I would rebel in some small way, only to
|
|
be beaten down, literally, by Tulik.
|
|
"The disruption of the routine came one evening late in my twelfth
|
|
year. Maybe a late ship put Tulik in such a foul mood, or the fact that
|
|
my mother burned the bread, but suddenly Tulik lashed out and struck my
|
|
mother with the back of his hand. Normally, that would have satisfied
|
|
him, but my mother allowed a flash of defiance to appear on her face,
|
|
and Tulik went berserk. I huddled in a corner, unable to help, while he
|
|
punched and kicked my mother ceaselessly, screaming senseless noises all
|
|
the while.
|
|
"Slowly he wound down and finally stood still, breathing heavily,
|
|
staring at my mother's motionless body. Without looking around, he
|
|
walked out of the house, no doubt headed to the nearest tavern.
|
|
"I crawled from my corner to my mother and cradled her bloody head
|
|
in my lap. I sobbed as I rocked her back and forth as she had done with
|
|
me when I was only a baby. Eventually she roused, and moaned softly. I
|
|
cleaned off the worst of the blood with the skirt of my dress while my
|
|
mother spoke to me again of my father. How she knew I would need a place
|
|
to live, I don't know, but she told me what I would have to do.
|
|
"When she died only menes later I laid her in my own bed. It took
|
|
some time, for even though she was a small woman, I was still only a
|
|
child. Then I took the sharpest knife from the kitchen, crouched in a
|
|
dark corner, and waited.
|
|
"I must have dozed off, for I didn't hear Tulik until he started
|
|
yelling for my mother. Maybe the drink had driven the earlier events of
|
|
the evening out of his head, but apparently he assumed my mother would
|
|
be in his bed as always. After a moment he fell upon the bed and started
|
|
snoring almost immediately.
|
|
"I had imagined this moment many times, seeing the blood spurt,
|
|
hearing him beg for his life, but now that it had come I just quickly
|
|
drew the blade across Tulik's neck, as deeply as I could, jumping away
|
|
in case he roused. In the end, he lay there, burbling blood through his
|
|
throat, too drunk to even realize what was happening to him. When the
|
|
sound of his liquid breathing ceased I returned to my own bed, and
|
|
crawling in beside my dead mother, I slept more peacefully than I had
|
|
for many long years.
|
|
"The next morning I left that charnel house and went to the market
|
|
square where my real father told stories to earn his meager living. In
|
|
my turn I told him the tale my mother had spun; that I was his son,
|
|
named Kyl, born of the woman he had thrown in the street. I had dressed
|
|
in a loose tunic, and trousers. Being young and skinny, only a close
|
|
examination would have betrayed me. Tulik's path had crossed my father's
|
|
only seldom, and according to my mother they were not friendly, so I had
|
|
no reason to believe I would be caught out. When he took my hand, looked
|
|
in my eyes, and called me son, I knew I was safe, at least for a time.
|
|
"From that time I lived in my father's house, and went with him
|
|
each day to the market, where he would tell his stories. I sat beside
|
|
him, listening to the way he would speak, the way he would make his
|
|
voice rise and fall with the tale, and how he would stop at the most
|
|
exciting part and wait for a coin to ring on the stone before he
|
|
finished the story. Soon I knew most of the stories he told, and he
|
|
would let me tell one, when the crowds were sparse.
|
|
"One dreary winter day, after too much drink the night before, he
|
|
told me to go to the market on my own. I returned that evening with
|
|
almost a Round's worth of smaller coins. My father was amazed, but since
|
|
I didn't spend half the day in the tavern drinking the day's earnings
|
|
away it wasn't difficult.
|
|
"My father rarely ventured to the market after that. He devoted
|
|
himself to spending our increased earnings in his favorite alehouse;
|
|
rising from his bed only in time to take most of my money as soon as I
|
|
had returned from my pitch. Many times he stayed away the entire night,
|
|
his bed still empty when I ventured out at the suns' false rising.
|
|
"It was some time before I learned the reason for my father's long
|
|
nights, and though it was a shock, it explained much. Not long before my
|
|
body began to truly blossom, my father returned from the tavern, the
|
|
worse for drink, and morose to the point of tears. He sat on his bed
|
|
calling softly for someone named Lestir, which sounded strange. As far
|
|
as I knew, my father had no one close enough to him to weep over.
|
|
"Then my father paused in his weeping and gave me a look which, at
|
|
first, I did not understand. It was when he called me a pretty young
|
|
lad, and mumbled something about moving closer that comprehension
|
|
flashed into my mind. My father was a boy-lover! It explained so many
|
|
things, from his hatred of my mother and other women, to his frequent,
|
|
secretive nights away from home. I recovered my wits in time to elude my
|
|
father's fumbling grasp, and ran out into the night.
|
|
"It was several bells before I returned to our home to find my
|
|
father asleep, and when he woke the next morning, it was if nothing had
|
|
happened. He made no reference to the events of the previous night, and
|
|
when I returned from the market, he took his usual cut of my takings and
|
|
left for the tavern without a word.
|
|
"From that day I lived in terror that my father would come to me in
|
|
the night and try to satisfy his lust. What he would do when he found I
|
|
was not his son, but his daughter, was something I tried not to think
|
|
about. I slept fitfully, and both my appearance and talent suffered. I
|
|
started to see movements in the shadows, and hear noises in the dark
|
|
silence of the night.
|
|
"It was about that time that the moving star appeared in the
|
|
twilight sky over Dargon. There were many who met in the market square
|
|
to talk about the star and say what they thought it portended. One
|
|
priestly looking man said it was the birth of a god, but another said it
|
|
was a sign of a god's death. Yet another said it signaled the end of the
|
|
world, for we had displeased the gods, and they were sending a ball of
|
|
fire to consume us.
|
|
"It seemed that over the next few days more people came to believe
|
|
that the world was going to end, and the Guard was very busy trying to
|
|
keep order. During this time of increasing chaos, I could feel the
|
|
shadows creeping closer to me. It was about then that I decided to give
|
|
my father a special meal, for if the end of days had come surely the
|
|
gods would not mind me taking some of their justice into my own hands.
|
|
Their hands would be full with the rest of the world.
|
|
"I went to the fishmonger's and bought a fresh popperfish, being
|
|
sure to get one that had not been gutted. This wasn't unusual, as many
|
|
wives preferred to fillet the fish themselves to be sure the delicately
|
|
flavored flesh was not tainted by a small, but highly poisonous, gland
|
|
deep in the fish.
|
|
"My father, fool that he was, took my elaborate meal preparations
|
|
as a sign that I finally regretted my action in rejecting him so
|
|
abruptly, and he decided to forego his usual trip to the tavern, no
|
|
doubt hoping to commit some lewd act upon me instead. I didn't disabuse
|
|
him of the notion, even going so far as to smile at him several times.
|
|
"Not long after my father had finished his meal, not noticing that
|
|
I hadn't touched my portion of fish, he rose and approached me, a slight
|
|
smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He opened his mouth to speak,
|
|
but just then a strong shudder tore through his body, nearly toppling
|
|
him. My father looked at me, a puzzled expression on his face, but he
|
|
couldn't force any words from his mouth, which was now locked tight by
|
|
the next spasms.
|
|
"I smiled at him, and repeated his words to me on the day we met.
|
|
'I am your daughter Kylana. Beware the four-lipped beast, my father.'
|
|
And the last thing my father saw was his daughter, nude and laughing,
|
|
dancing as his life ended."
|
|
Suiting action to word, the girl rose, stripped, and danced wildly
|
|
about the cell, laughing madly. The two ducal servants cringed in a
|
|
corner, but Jaron stared intently, lust strong in his eyes, which for
|
|
once never wavered from their focus. The beast had arrived.
|
|
|
|
"Jaaaron! Guardsman Jaron!" Sergeant Guralnik's shout echoed
|
|
through the corridors of the cells below Dargon Keep.
|
|
"By Ol's balls, if you are sleeping again, guardsman, Ol's temple
|
|
will have yours on the offering plate this very day!"
|
|
Guralnik strode down the corridor between the cells, not even
|
|
seeing the pale faces peering from the larger cells. As he approached
|
|
the small cell he almost slipped in a puddle. The jailer held his lamp
|
|
up low and peered at the liquid. It looked very much like blood, but
|
|
even during one of the occasional fights that occurred in the cells
|
|
there was not this much. His right hand quickly found the hilt of his
|
|
sword.
|
|
With a sense of dread about what he might see, Guralnik raised the
|
|
lamp and looked into the cell. One glimpse at the part of the scene lit
|
|
by the lamp was enough to cause the sergeant to turn away and vomit his
|
|
breakfast into the cell next to him. He then ignored his
|
|
still-protesting stomach, wiped off his mouth, and turned back to the
|
|
grisly scene before him.
|
|
The two castle servants, hands and feet bound, lay in the far
|
|
corner of the cell. Their clothing was drenched in blood, but after a
|
|
moment the guard could see their chests rise and fall in the slow rhythm
|
|
of sleep.
|
|
Near the cell door lay the body of Guardsman Jaron. The large pool
|
|
of blood seemed to come from him, and when Guralnik saw that the guard's
|
|
manhood had been removed, he knew what the blood had come from.
|
|
Guralnik never knew the real sequence of events that night. The
|
|
servants knew little, having been tied up and knocked unconscious before
|
|
any blood had been shed. When questioned by the guard captain, he held
|
|
almost nothing back; even his guess at what had actually happened that
|
|
bloody night. In his mind Guardsman Jaron had gotten his due. The girl
|
|
had escaped, but how long could a young girl survive on her own?
|
|
One thing he never spoke of, even to his wife, occurred as he was
|
|
leaving the cells to get assistance. A voice seemed to whisper in the
|
|
jailer's ear, and then trailed off into laughter. What the voice said
|
|
shook the sergeant to his core.
|
|
"Beware, beware the beast. It is never far away."
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
From dargon@SHORE.NET Fri Feb 18 19:45:19 2000
|
|
Received: from listserv.brown.edu (canis.services.brown.edu [128.148.19.203])
|
|
by locust.etext.org (8.9.3/8.9.3) with ESMTP id TAA42588
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for <rita@LOCUST.ETEXT.ORG>; Fri, 18 Feb 2000 19:45:18 -0500 (EST)
|
|
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for <rita@LOCUST.ETEXT.ORG>; Fri, 18 Feb 2000 19:45:11 -0500 (EST)
|
|
Message-Id: <200002190045.TAA16836@listserv.brown.edu>
|
|
From: DargonZine Staff <dargon@SHORE.NET>
|
|
Subject: DargonZine Volume 13, Number 2 (long)
|
|
Organization: the Dargon Project
|
|
Date: Fri, 18 Feb 2000 19:30:00 -0500
|
|
To: archive site <rita@LOCUST.ETEXT.ORG>
|
|
Status: RO
|
|
|
|
DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
|
|
D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
|
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 13
|
|
-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
|
|
D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 2
|
|
DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
|
|
\\
|
|
\
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
DargonZine Distributed: 2/18/2000
|
|
Volume 13, Number 2 Circulation: 711
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Contents
|
|
|
|
Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
|
|
A Matter of Honour 1 Nicholas Wansbutter Sy, 1003
|
|
Vows Victor M. Cardoso 15 Naia, 1016
|
|
Talisman Three 2 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Fall, 748 FE
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
|
|
collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
|
|
We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
|
|
Please address all correspondence to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
|
|
on the World Wide Web at http://www.dargonzine.org/. Back issues
|
|
are available from ftp.shore.net in members/dargon/. Issues and
|
|
public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
|
|
|
|
DargonZine 13-2, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright February, 2000 by
|
|
the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>,
|
|
Assistant Editor: Jon Evans <godling@mnsinc.com>. All rights reserved.
|
|
All rights are reassigned to the individual contributors. Stories
|
|
and artwork appearing herein may not be reproduced or redistributed
|
|
without the explicit permission of their creators, except in the case
|
|
of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
|
|
Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Editorial
|
|
by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
|
|
<ornoth@shore.net>
|
|
|
|
DargonZine's purpose since day one has been to help amateur writers
|
|
improve. Back when the magazine began, I didn't really know what I was
|
|
looking for, but I knew that I wanted to be able to exchange ideas,
|
|
techniques, and works with other writers. I also knew that the Internet
|
|
was a tool with awesome potential for communication between people. What
|
|
I didn't know was that I was looking for the same things as other
|
|
aspiring writers: a community of like-minded writers and a place to
|
|
publish my works. Since there were no such things on the Internet at
|
|
that time, I started both a community and a publishing outlet, and
|
|
(fortunately) they flourished. But still I remember very clearly being a
|
|
solitary writer with no way to reach an audience and no one to turn to
|
|
for critiques, support, mentoring, or understanding.
|
|
Thanks to the Internet, DargonZine can provide those things to
|
|
writers who otherwise might not have a place to publish or other writers
|
|
to work with. That's why I always feel a lot of satisfaction and pride
|
|
when I can welcome new writers to the ranks of those who have had
|
|
stories published in DargonZine. Recruiting new writers not only helps
|
|
our magazine thrive and grow, but is an integral part of our mission to
|
|
support and encourage aspiring writers. Surprisingly, that's something
|
|
we lost sight of for a while. After a strong initial start, as
|
|
DargonZine matured we settled down with a core group of writers. As the
|
|
world of Dargon became more and more detailed and complex, we never made
|
|
much of an effort to find new writers or help those who joined get
|
|
ramped up on the environment. It took a long time for us to notice, but
|
|
we were floored when we finally looked back on the nine years from 1989
|
|
through 1997 and discovered that we had printed only thirteen new
|
|
writers -- barely one new writer per year!
|
|
We all knew that this was a serious problem. If we couldn't attract
|
|
and support new writers, the magazine would soon fold. After that
|
|
realization, the group made a huge effort to recruit, support, and
|
|
mentor new writers. We began asking for feedback about why new writers
|
|
left the project, and what would make things better for those who
|
|
stayed. We gave new writers more information about the milieu, better
|
|
reference tools, more story ideas to key off, better writing guidelines,
|
|
and mentors to support them. Everyone has helped, and those efforts have
|
|
paid off wonderfully. Since then we have printed thirteen new writers;
|
|
in just two years we've welcomed as many new writers as we'd printed in
|
|
the previous nine years combined!
|
|
And in this issue I am delighted to introduce you to two new
|
|
writers -- Nicholas Wansbutter and Victor Cardoso -- who joined us last
|
|
fall. Nick is a student in Winnipeg, and his debut is the first of a
|
|
three-part series that will run in the next couple issues. Victor is the
|
|
son of Portuguese expats and lives and works in Ann Arbor. Be sure to
|
|
congratulate them on getting their first stories through DargonZine's
|
|
lengthy peer-review process!
|
|
We're very pleased to welcome them, as well as all the other
|
|
writers who have joined our ranks in the past two years. The influx of
|
|
new blood has enlivened our discussions and rejuvenated the project, and
|
|
reinforced the importance of welcoming and supporting our new writers.
|
|
And that's something we should never lose sight of again.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
A Matter of Honour
|
|
Part 1
|
|
by Nicholas Wansbutter
|
|
<ice_czar@hotmail.com>
|
|
Sy, 1003
|
|
|
|
A mixture of excitement and fear filled Aleksandr as he stood
|
|
before the family manor, on what was to be one of the proudest days of
|
|
his life. Today, he began the long journey towards becoming a knight: a
|
|
defender of the crown and protector of the people. He would bring honour
|
|
to his family, just as his father, Harbid Heahun, had before him.
|
|
Aleksandr could already picture in his boy's mind riding a great
|
|
stallion into battle, laying King Haralan's enemies low with a flashing
|
|
blade, travelling the width and breadth of the land righting wrongs,
|
|
avenging injustices and perhaps even slaying a flanduil one day. Such
|
|
was every young noble's fantasy. But, even as all of these adventurous
|
|
thoughts filled him, doubt crept into the back of his mind.
|
|
A boy of seven, he was just a little over ten hands tall. He had
|
|
pale white skin beneath a head of bright red hair and ice-blue eyes. A
|
|
fit little boy, he was known for his athleticism and strength for his
|
|
age.
|
|
As he looked around at the familiar thatched houses, the small
|
|
stone church and the deeply rutted dirt roads, Aleksandr felt anxiety
|
|
tighten his chest. He was about to travel to what seemed the end of the
|
|
world. He was, after all, being sent to Fennell Keep, in the baronial
|
|
seat of power. Aleksandr realised it was a great honour to serve in the
|
|
household of Baron Dorja Fennell himself, and that his father had made a
|
|
great many sacrifices to make it happen, but Aleksandr still wished he
|
|
could stay at home. The outside world seemed like an incredibly large
|
|
and frightening place to him. The town was all that he knew.
|
|
Though small and relatively insignificant according to his
|
|
well-travelled brothers, Heahun was to Aleksandr as beautiful a place as
|
|
any he could imagine. Nestled away comfortably in the forests southwest
|
|
of Dargon, it fell within the jurisdiction of the Barony of Fennell. It
|
|
was a somewhat humble barony, subsisting on agriculture for the most
|
|
part. Just fewer than two hundred families lived in Heahun itself. It
|
|
wasn't an especially wealthy town, either. Most of the villagers made a
|
|
life for themselves tilling the croplands to the north and east of town,
|
|
or harvesting wood for Aleksandr's father in the dense forests to the
|
|
south and west. Like all folk in the Barony of Fennell, they were a
|
|
hardy lot, enduring the warm summers and frigid winters with a quiet
|
|
determination that could only be found in the simple, silent forest. The
|
|
town was ruled by Aleksandr's family, the Heahuns, and had been for
|
|
decades. Stalwart knights that served the duke unquestioningly,
|
|
Aleksandr thought the town suited them.
|
|
He heard the familiar footfalls of his father coming up behind him.
|
|
Aleksandr looked up as the powerful figure stopped beside him, taking in
|
|
the town as well. Harbid Heahun was an impressive man, even though he
|
|
was now nearing his fiftieth year. His fiery red hair that Aleksandr
|
|
shared was streaked with silver, as were his flowing beard and
|
|
moustaches. He was tall and his powerful frame still carried much
|
|
muscle. Aleksandr was immensely proud of him.
|
|
Harbid placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "Ah, my son.
|
|
Today you take the first step in the family tradition. Your brothers
|
|
have done well, and I expect no less from you." Indeed, his father had
|
|
said many a time that Aleksandr was the most promising of his five sons,
|
|
which was why Harbid had gone to great lengths to have him taken in as a
|
|
page at Fennell Keep.
|
|
"I'm going to become a great knight like Sir Jarek Kelbhen,
|
|
father!" Aleksandr stood a little taller at speaking the name of his
|
|
hero.
|
|
Aleksandr's father looked down at him, his grey eyes warning. "He
|
|
is a robber knight. Not a noble like us!" Aleksandr's shoulders sagged
|
|
with the remark, and he could feel the heat of tears welling up in his
|
|
eyes. He idolised the dashing foreign mercenary. Harbid knelt beside the
|
|
boy and took hold of his shoulders, looking intently into his face. "He
|
|
did serve the baron well during the Shadow Wars, but Baron Fennell was
|
|
not present at the battle on the Coldwell as I was. I was witness when
|
|
your Sir Jarek took the lives of a group of surrendered Northfield
|
|
troops. Hardly conduct becoming of a Baranurian knight, even if his
|
|
prisoners were traitors to the crown. And if he is a true knight why is
|
|
he fled from his lands all the way to Dargon? Think on that, my son."
|
|
Aleksandr continued to look at the ground, refusing to accept his
|
|
father's condemnation of Sir Jarek. Finally, Harbid sighed and patted
|
|
his son on the shoulder. "I am sure you will have his courage, though."
|
|
Aleksandr brightened, and looked up with a smile at his father once
|
|
again. "Maybe I'll even be his squire one day! Tschel told me he's the
|
|
captain of the guards at Fennell Keep, you know!"
|
|
Harbid couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle at his son's zeal.
|
|
He remembered the days long past when he had been the same. He hadn't
|
|
been as well informed about the goings-on outside of Heahun, though.
|
|
Aleksandr *was* an inquisitive one. He ate up everything that his older
|
|
brother Tschel told him from his travels throughout the duchy. Perhaps
|
|
the most ambitious of the Heahuns, Tschel had strayed from the family
|
|
tradition and was the local clerk in the Court of the King's Bench. As a
|
|
result of his vocation, Aleksandr saw him at least once a month, which
|
|
was more often than could be said for others of his siblings that served
|
|
as squires or knights far away.
|
|
"Ah!" Harbid exclaimed. "Speak the names of wicked men and they
|
|
shall emerge!"
|
|
As he spoke, a dapple-grey horse emerged from the stables to the
|
|
rear of the house. Atop the horse sat Tschel, rather casually, wrapped
|
|
in his red robes that signified his position. Beneath his white linen
|
|
cap, curly golden hair protruded, and his bright blue eyes shone with
|
|
mirth. He was more scholarly than any of Aleksandr's other brothers, and
|
|
was a little pudgy, but not too much. To Aleksandr, his face seemed
|
|
perennially formed into a smile.
|
|
"And how's my little brother?" Tschel approached the boy and his
|
|
father. "Ready to leave already? Where's your friend Lev?"
|
|
"He'll be along." Aleksandr absently turned his gaze to the town,
|
|
hoping to see his friend. Aleksandr's father liked to do things early,
|
|
so it was no surprise that Lev and his father hadn't arrived yet.
|
|
Lev Roise was a peasant boy who had been Aleksandr's playmate for
|
|
as long as he could remember. He was a couple of years older, but
|
|
Aleksandr had the size advantage. Lev's father, a woodcutter by trade,
|
|
was taking him with Aleksandr to Fennell to train as a monk in Heart's
|
|
Hope Monastery. There, Lev would be a novice among the Stevenic sect of
|
|
Cyruzhian monks. Aleksandr's father had only converted to Stevenism
|
|
thirteen years ago, but it had taken deep root in Heahun under his
|
|
patronage. He had been zealous in bringing the town into the faith with
|
|
him. The year before Aleksandr had been born, construction of a stone
|
|
church had been completed. Aleksandr was the first of his family to be
|
|
named in that church. In honour of this, his father had not given
|
|
Aleksandr a familial name, but rather, the name of one of Cephas
|
|
Stevene's pupils.
|
|
"Regardless of whether Roise and his son are here," Harbid said,
|
|
"you won't be ready to leave until you've said goodbye to your mother!
|
|
Why don't you go and fetch her, son?"
|
|
"Yes, father!" Aleksandr turned and vaulted into the house.
|
|
He found his mother in the chapel, kneeling before the shrine that
|
|
dominated the small room.
|
|
"Mother?"
|
|
She stood, and turned to look at Aleksandr. Her eyes were misty,
|
|
and her face bore a sadness Aleksandr hadn't seen since her last child
|
|
was stillborn. "Hello, Aleksandr. I was just saying a little prayer for
|
|
you."
|
|
Like most boys his age, Aleksandr thought his mother was the most
|
|
beautiful creature in the barony. She was tall, but just the right size
|
|
for a hug as Aleksandr's arms just fit around her waist. Her chestnut
|
|
coloured hair was hidden beneath an elaborate hood, but Aleksandr knew
|
|
it had a little bit of grey in it nowadays. Her eyes were the colour of
|
|
iron, and smooth skin the colour of milk. She was definitely the most
|
|
pious of the Heahuns, but also the most strict. She had raised Aleksandr
|
|
to be a disciplined boy. She went to the Stevenic church almost every
|
|
day, and Aleksandr had often heard her fight with his father about
|
|
drinking and swearing. She was attentive to the teachings of Stevene's
|
|
Light however, and with her at his side, Harbid and his family were much
|
|
loved by the people of Heahun. Her name was Madeline, and Aleksandr
|
|
thought her the perfect example of Baranur gentility.
|
|
"When will I see you again, mother?" Some of Madeline's melancholy
|
|
was starting to seep into Aleksandr.
|
|
"I don't know, my son." She wrapped the boy into a tender embrace.
|
|
"Not for a long time I think."
|
|
"What's wrong, mother?" He could hear the unsteadiness in her
|
|
voice.
|
|
"Nothing ... It's just that you're my youngest son, and now you're
|
|
leaving." She sniffled a little, and continued to hold onto her son.
|
|
"Don't worry," Aleksandr said, feeling tears of his own beginning
|
|
to form. "I'll come back."
|
|
"Yes." Madeline smiled, and held Aleksandr at arm's length. "Yes,
|
|
and you will be a great knight just like your father, and your
|
|
grandfather Harabin."
|
|
Thoughts of the great family patriarch Harabin brightened
|
|
Aleksandr's spirits. If Aleksandr saw his father as a hero, his
|
|
grandfather was a *legend*. Though a pagan (and the last of the Heahuns
|
|
that was so), he had been a man of great deeds. He had fought side by
|
|
side with Duke Cabot Dargon in battle, and had ruled Heahun with
|
|
justice. Aleksandr was sure that he had slain several flanduils on his
|
|
many quests.
|
|
Aleksandr's thoughts were cut short by the entrance of his father.
|
|
He picked Aleksandr up and ruffled his son's red hair. "Well, my boy.
|
|
Are you ready?"
|
|
"Yes!"
|
|
The three emerged from the house to see Tschel still waiting on his
|
|
horse. A short distance away from him, Bel Roise and his son, Lev, sat
|
|
on an oxen-pulled cart. When Aleksandr saw his best friend, he broke
|
|
away from his parents and rushed to the wagon. The other boy
|
|
methodically dismounted the vehicle, and waited for Aleksandr to arrive.
|
|
"Lev!" Aleksandr enclosed the older boy in a bear hug.
|
|
"Straight, straight!" Lev squirmed free of Aleksandr's grasp, and
|
|
levelled his gaze on his friend. "It's good to see you Aleksandr. I'm
|
|
glad you'll be with me in Fennell."
|
|
Aleksandr patted his arm. "Me too."
|
|
Of the two boys, Lev was always much quieter and much more serious.
|
|
Although stoic and sometimes cold even, he was the best friend anyone
|
|
could ask for. Aleksandr had come to appreciate his intelligence and
|
|
kindness to others, but especially his honesty. Though he was only nine
|
|
years old, he often seemed to Aleksandr a miniature adult. The peasant
|
|
boy was small, at that. He was less than twelve hands tall and very
|
|
skinny. He had big brown eyes, and a mop of thick brown hair. When the
|
|
two boys played together, Aleksandr was always the faster and stronger,
|
|
but Lev's wit sometimes won the games.
|
|
"Well, lads," Bel Roise said from his perch on the wagon,
|
|
"Fennell's not going to come to us."
|
|
"Last one on is a scrud sucker!" Aleksandr shouted, and sprang up
|
|
onto the cart beside Lev's father.
|
|
"Aleksandr!" Madeline scolded.
|
|
"Let the boy be!" Harbid said. "He's off to be a warrior! He'll not
|
|
be quoting Cephas while he lops off heads now will he?"
|
|
Harbid's retort was met by steely silence from Madeline. Lev made
|
|
it onto the cart a heartbeat after Aleksandr had. Everything they needed
|
|
for the journey had already been packed.
|
|
Bel inclined his head to Harbid, "Good day, Sir Harbid. And thank
|
|
you again for allowing me to travel to Fennell with your son."
|
|
"Think nothing of it." Harbid said. "The boy's horsemanship is not
|
|
yet good enough to make a whole day's travel on his own. It is you who
|
|
is to be thanked."
|
|
"You are too kind, sir." Bel bowed again.
|
|
"But enough of this." Harbid gestured toward the road leading out
|
|
of town. "If you are to make Fennell before sundown, you must be off.
|
|
May God be with you."
|
|
With that, the small party began to make its way out of town.
|
|
Aleksandr watched his parents as long as they were within view, his
|
|
mother enveloped by a compassionate arm from his father. It finally
|
|
began to be real to him that he was leaving home. He could feel tears
|
|
wanting to well up in him, but he couldn't allow them to emerge in front
|
|
of Lev. Remembering what his mother had always told him to do when he
|
|
was nervous or scared, he said a prayer to Stevene and to his namesake.
|
|
It made him feel much better.
|
|
Quite rapidly, the thatched houses of Heahun gave way to the
|
|
croplands to the north of town. Several fields lay fallow, while crops
|
|
of wheat and flax could be seen growing around them. At the edge of the
|
|
fields, about three leagues beyond, the forests stood, deep and dark.
|
|
They were at their most dense in the barony of Fennell, and wood was a
|
|
major product of the town. The numerous fir trees in the Fennell forest
|
|
were excellent for building, as they were very straight and easy to cut.
|
|
The small group travelled northeast for several bells, through the
|
|
farmlands and into the forest. When the sun was near the midpoint of the
|
|
sky, they turned due east. The forest was a very pleasant place,
|
|
Aleksandr thought. Birds could be heard chirping all around him, and the
|
|
occasional hare could be seen along the edges of the road. He even saw a
|
|
deer, which he pointed out to Lev. That the beauty of creation
|
|
surrounded them seemed fitting to him, in that both he and Lev were on a
|
|
pilgrimage of sorts.
|
|
|
|
They stopped for lunch a little after midday beside a stream that
|
|
ran near the road at one spot. After eating, Tschel and Bel Roise seemed
|
|
content to sit and rest a while. Aleksandr and Lev, restless from many
|
|
bells sitting on the cart, decided to do a little exploring.
|
|
"Alright." Tschel agreed. "But not too far. We'll be leaving soon,
|
|
and we'll go without you if you're not back!"
|
|
So they set off into the woods at a bound. They chased each other
|
|
around for a bit, examined some strange looking fungi growing on trees,
|
|
and were about to head back when Lev came across a group of tall, thin
|
|
stones, the height of a man, sticking straight up from the ground. There
|
|
were two of them, standing on either side of a flat, round boulder that
|
|
to Lev resembled an altar. The rocks were a pure white like snow. He
|
|
called to Aleksandr, and the other boy hurried over.
|
|
"What is it Lev?"
|
|
"Look at those rocks, Aleksandr!" He pointed to the grouping of
|
|
stones.
|
|
"What are they, Lev?" Aleksandr asked.
|
|
"I don't know." The stones were covered in moss, and the area
|
|
looked well deserted. Nevertheless, the clearing had a strange and
|
|
ancient feel to it. Everything was so quiet, the air so still, that he
|
|
could hear his own heart beating. For no particular reason that he could
|
|
think of, he felt very content and happy. Though the air was cool, he
|
|
felt very warm, as if a stone heated in a fire had been placed in his
|
|
chest. There was also a feel that he and Aleksandr were not alone. As
|
|
when someone is watching you and the hairs on your neck begin to stand
|
|
up. A feeling that, though unexplainable, wasn't frightening at all. It
|
|
was akin to the way Lev felt when he worshipped at the church in Heahun.
|
|
"I think this is a holy place."
|
|
"Then this is a good place."
|
|
"Good place for what?" Lev asked.
|
|
"To become brothers." Aleksandr turned away from the rocks to look
|
|
at Lev. "My brother Pter told me that knights give each other solemn
|
|
oaths and become brothers. It is a sacred pledge of friendship that only
|
|
the best knights can keep. We are best friends, Lev. I think we should
|
|
be brothers, too."
|
|
"How is it done?" Lev's immediate reaction was one of scepticism.
|
|
Warfare was something he was far removed from, and happily so. However,
|
|
he did know that knightly virtues were good and pure.
|
|
"Hold out your hand." Aleksandr pulled his dagger out of his belt
|
|
and grasped the hilt tightly. "Now, put your hand over mine, so that you
|
|
are holding the sword, too."
|
|
Lev obeyed. He was not so ignorant as to think a dagger a sword,
|
|
but he also knew swords to be significant to knights. With their
|
|
diminutive size, the dagger almost was a sword. He also was beginning to
|
|
understand the pledge they were about to take. "We must pray to God that
|
|
our hearts and our souls may be cleansed, that they are pure to take
|
|
this sacred pledge."
|
|
"Let it be so." Aleksandr said in the tradition of the Cyruzhians,
|
|
but faltered. "I don't remember all of the words Pter told me ..."
|
|
"What you remember will be enough." Lev assured him. God would know
|
|
the words that he missed.
|
|
"In the eyes of God and his most holy prophet Cephas Stevene, we
|
|
make this sacred pledge to be true to one another. Brothers, not through
|
|
blood, but through Stevene's Light. Eternal comrades, never to betray.
|
|
Let these be the final blows between us." Aleksandr smacked Lev in the
|
|
face.
|
|
"What was that?" Lev drew back a little.
|
|
"Hit me." Aleksandr said. "Let these be the final blows between
|
|
us."
|
|
Lev complied. "Let there never again be conflict between us."
|
|
"Brothers."
|
|
"Brothers. It is done." Lev agreed.
|
|
|
|
When the boys returned to the road, Lev's father and Aleksandr's
|
|
brother were ready to go. "Did you get lost?" Tschel asked. "I was
|
|
wondering if you were coming back."
|
|
"Of course we were coming back, Tschel," Aleksandr said. "I
|
|
wouldn't be late for Lord Fennell!"
|
|
They set out once again, and made good time the rest of the way to
|
|
Fennell. The sun was starting to hang low in the sky, casting a reddish
|
|
light, when the party came into view of the city. It was an impressive
|
|
place indeed.
|
|
"It's nothing compared to Magnus," Tschel noted, "but it has its
|
|
own unique power, I suppose."
|
|
Aleksandr and Lev were in thrall. Rising up from the forest like
|
|
some mythical giant, the city perched atop a steep hill. In the centre,
|
|
at the highest point of the hill, rested Fennell Keep, its stone
|
|
ramparts glowing like garnets in the late evening sun. Atop the towers
|
|
the baronial banners fluttered in the breeze, only the red and white
|
|
background of Baron Dorja Fennell visible from this distance. Beneath
|
|
it, they could see well-beaten dirt roads winding between a mixture of
|
|
wood and stone buildings. They were quite different from the simple
|
|
thatched huts in Heahun. Roofs made of wood shingles covered many of
|
|
them. Some were more than one storey high, while others were made of
|
|
several interlocking sections. And the sheer number of them -- Lev had
|
|
never seen so many buildings crowded together. The most prominent
|
|
buildings were churches and temples dedicated to various deities that
|
|
dotted the city. The simple, square buildings of grey rock were easy to
|
|
distinguish from the others, given their pointed spires at each corner
|
|
and in the centre. Another temple Lev recognised as one belonging to the
|
|
Olean pantheon, as it was very similar to the one in Heahun, its domed
|
|
copper roof shining brightly in the diminishing light. There were a
|
|
couple of other large buildings of styles he didn't recognise, among
|
|
them a white-washed arch supported by eight pillars and a cube made of
|
|
red brick. Heart's Hope Monastery sprouted from amidst the smaller
|
|
buildings not far from the keep. It was the second largest building
|
|
besides the keep, and its belltower was the tallest thing in view. It
|
|
was of similar construction to the other Stevenic houses of worship, but
|
|
was much larger and had several wings jutting out from the main
|
|
structure. At the base of the hill, croplands spread outwards until they
|
|
met with the forest.
|
|
As they emerged from the forest and neared the entrance to Fennell,
|
|
Aleksandr knew that the first step towards knighthood had been taken, as
|
|
had Lev's first step toward spiritual completeness.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Vows
|
|
by Victor M. Cardoso
|
|
<victorcardoso@earthlink.net>
|
|
15 Naia, 1016
|
|
|
|
A brass bell's clangs echoed slowly and loudly through the forest
|
|
of poplar and birch. In shaded hollow and knitted copse the sound
|
|
carried, drifting down gentle slopes covered in prickly-bush to where
|
|
the Coldwell ran. Snow-flecked and rising to meet the crystal sky, the
|
|
Darst mountains and their molehill cousins pondered the ringing in their
|
|
granite way, then replied with a stoic, muffled imitation.
|
|
The eighth bell, Rianna noted. She sat calmly on an uncomfortable
|
|
wooden bench within Coldwell Abbey's atrium. The sun had started its
|
|
descent to the horizon, not quite throwing the monastery's shadow over
|
|
her, but further etching the mortar lines in the surrounding buildings
|
|
and walls. They were simple structures made of stone around a central
|
|
yard, and a few straggling monks hurried in their leather sandals and
|
|
colored frocks towards the refectory on the side farthest from her.
|
|
Robes of blues and grays dominated the population, each hue representing
|
|
a different order.
|
|
For the priests and monks of this place, it was time for supper and
|
|
prayers. She, dressed in a simple, ivory robe, fasted and waited. Three
|
|
years of sporadic visits had taught her the abbey's routine.
|
|
Weather-wise, this middle-time between spring and summer was the most
|
|
enjoyable for her, when leaves hung fresh in the surrounding forest and
|
|
the Coldwell's waters tickled the wind with brisk fingers.
|
|
"M'lady."
|
|
Rianna broke from her thoughts to find the sea-priest, Breinert,
|
|
standing just behind her. The sun caught on the blue robe of his patron
|
|
god, Cirrangill, and played along its folds brightly. He bowed low in a
|
|
show of respect, causing her to smile.
|
|
"Priest," she greeted, being equally as formal.
|
|
Deep-set eyes twinkled at her, hazel beneath modest brows. Brown
|
|
hair, freshly combed, topped the priest's head, flowing back from a
|
|
square face. In silence he offered her his arm, which she accepted, and
|
|
led the way out of the atrium. A multitude of worn and rutted paths grew
|
|
at their feet, bordered by bright sprouts of hill grass.
|
|
"I am extremely sorry for not meeting you sooner," he apologized.
|
|
"One of the visiting Cyruzhian brothers had difficulty with a manuscript
|
|
and asked me to assist. How was the ride down?"
|
|
"Good, but long," she sighed. They passed between two low walls
|
|
fencing the brothers' fields and vineyards. To one side lay upturned
|
|
rows of dark soil, recently tilled, on the other a congregation of
|
|
twisted limbs and posts covered with clingy vines. Rianna admired the
|
|
view as they walked. "Clara, my usual handmaiden, is ill, so I debated
|
|
not coming at all. I scarcely feel now is the time for me to be dallying
|
|
about Kenna at little girl's parties."
|
|
Breinert tsked at her, his usual form of reprimand. "Ahh," he
|
|
replied, "but was it not another, similar event that brought you to the
|
|
monastery in the first place? I would like to think you've benefited
|
|
from my counsel."
|
|
Rianna blushed. "I have," she confessed quietly. She did not want
|
|
to admit that solace was the last thing she had expected to find at
|
|
Coldwell Abbey, especially from a sea-priest who had settled there
|
|
temporarily. The thought that Breinert's "temporary" sabbatical had
|
|
lasted three years pleased her on a selfish level. At least hers were
|
|
not the only plans that could be waylaid.
|
|
A constant wind frolicked along the hills of the Coldwell, at this
|
|
point stirring a row of daffodils thriving along the side of the path.
|
|
The white flowers bloomed enormously among rocks and shoots of grass.
|
|
Rianna marveled that a day's ride away, just beyond the shoulder of the
|
|
Darst, the same blossoms were few and wrinkled. On her land, the last
|
|
few seasons had been severely dry.
|
|
"Perhaps there are other things in store for you on this visit," he
|
|
continued, his thick hair stirring in the breeze. "Besides, m'lady,
|
|
you've shied away from these festivities for quite some time. You have
|
|
responsibilities, yes? What would the other nobles say to your continued
|
|
absence?"
|
|
She took a moment to conjure up images of her social peers,
|
|
unsettling as it was. "The same things they say now," she thought
|
|
bitterly. "My presence will only confirm their gossip."
|
|
But she didn't answer his question aloud. Instead, she moved her
|
|
gaze to the sky and noticed a line of voluminous clouds gathering in the
|
|
west, teasing her with the possibility of rain.
|
|
The priest noticed her evasion. "You do realize there's little to
|
|
worry about at this reception, don't you?" he pressed.
|
|
"And why would I worry about a girl's coming-of-age ball?"
|
|
"Because Tremmel may be there," he answered.
|
|
She winced inwardly at the name. True enough. Tremmel was the same
|
|
lord that had been trying to court her for the past year. On some level
|
|
she had expected to see him tonight. She was obliged to attend these
|
|
events as much as he and there was little doubt he'd intend on meeting
|
|
her there. But, all awkward flirting aside, it wasn't Tremmel who really
|
|
concerned her. In fact, she worried more about the other nobles -- the
|
|
ones who would recognize her dress from receptions past, who would ask
|
|
about the state of her drought-stricken lands.
|
|
Nervously, she rubbed the silver band on her ring finger until she
|
|
became conscious of it. Sighing, she stopped.
|
|
"If Lord Tremmel attends, it will be nice to see him again," she
|
|
lied. "Oh, is that a pig I see rutting in the underbrush, brother? I do
|
|
think the monastery should be more careful with its stores."
|
|
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Breinert's grin.
|
|
"Rianna," he chuckled, patting her arm, "No matter the reason, I
|
|
and the other monks are always pleased when you stay with us."
|
|
"And I am always pleased to come," she wanted to reply, but
|
|
refrained.
|
|
The river Coldwell coursed within shouting distance of the abbey's
|
|
door. Rianna caught a glimpse of it as they traveled alongside a bluff.
|
|
The waterway's deep bed provided sustenance as well as easy trade for
|
|
the brothers, and travelers going to and coming from the city of Dargon
|
|
appreciated the respite. With the nearby town of Kenna continuing to
|
|
grow, this area of the river saw increased traffic.
|
|
The bluff softened ahead of the couple and provided footing for a
|
|
forest, the trees growing along the steep slopes down to the water's
|
|
edge. Nestled among the primary rows of birch, a set of square,
|
|
roughly-hewn steps descended the hill. Breinert cautioned her as they
|
|
traversed it. A small clearing at the bottom lay not far from the
|
|
river's bank, a thicket of trunks dividing the two. Breinert had set up
|
|
several lines of rope in this area, strung among branches, each line
|
|
supporting a rough cloth. The overall effect was a somewhat private den
|
|
with a water-filled pool at its center. Rianna had seen dozens of
|
|
similar depressions in the rocky foothills leading up to the mountains;
|
|
this particular one had once been a washing yard, but was abandoned when
|
|
the order had tapped the Coldwell from a well on the highland. The abbey
|
|
had given leave to Breinert to use this area for his counsel with
|
|
visitors. After all, what was a water-priest without water?
|
|
Eight unlit candles of various heights sat in fissures along the
|
|
edges of the pool. As usual, by mixture or magic, the priest had laced
|
|
the inland air with a faint smell of the sea.
|
|
Breinert left her side to light the wicks. Rianna knew the ritual.
|
|
She undid her robe, revealing a long, white shift underneath.
|
|
She walked over to the pool's side and dipped her toes. The priest
|
|
had warmed it with the help of a kettle and a fire-pit not too far
|
|
removed. The tepid water felt comfortable and was amazingly clear. She
|
|
could see down to the bowl-like center, various underwater ledges and
|
|
outcroppings providing places to sit. She lowered herself to the closest
|
|
one, swishing her feet as her gown slowly billowed about her.
|
|
Breinert still busied himself with the candles.
|
|
"How do you feel?" he asked, eyes set on the wick before him.
|
|
She watched his calm, deliberate motions, the way his wiry arms
|
|
moved under the coarse blue robe. The sun was obscured by overhead
|
|
branches and surrounding hills, filling the den with a low, mossy light
|
|
which somewhat eased her anxiety.
|
|
Even so, worries lingered. "Anxious," she answered.
|
|
The priest nodded in seriousness. "You know what we're looking for
|
|
today?"
|
|
She nodded in turn, closing her eyes. She didn't have to state
|
|
their purpose aloud. She didn't want to. There had been enough
|
|
discussion of it on her last visit.
|
|
Breinert's sandals scraped the ground gently as he came to kneel
|
|
behind her. There was a sound of a small flask being uncorked, and then
|
|
liquid being poured near her. A stronger, sage-like scent mingled with
|
|
the salt. Warm, soft hands touched upon her temples. His fingers glided
|
|
along the nape of her neck, massaging her.
|
|
"Ease your breathing," his voice instructed. The scent of sage also
|
|
lay on his palms. Muscles hidden deep within her unclenched. She inhaled
|
|
greedily.
|
|
"Not too quickly," he warned, adding the habitual tsk. "Let your
|
|
mind clear. Think not about what lies ahead. Reflect on what has passed
|
|
and allow the water to calm you."
|
|
She directed her focus on the contents of the pool lapping about
|
|
her skin, the repeated warmth and coolness along her shoulders. The
|
|
priest's voice was low and deep -- comforting -- as it guided her
|
|
through the beginning exercises of the release ritual. As the
|
|
instructions became prayers, and the prayers murmurs, Rianna no longer
|
|
controlled her breath; her chest rose and fell of its own accord. She
|
|
vaguely felt the priest's hands as he slid her deeper into the water,
|
|
anchoring her by her shoulders.
|
|
"In the name of Cirrangill," he murmured, his voice distant, "we
|
|
ask that the ways of the mind are opened like the paths of the ocean. We
|
|
seek the shores of the pain, the shoals of the hurt. Allow the waters to
|
|
cleanse this woman as it cleanses all it touches."
|
|
He paused, and the wind rose in his silence.
|
|
"I will submerge you now. Just for a moment. When you rise, we will
|
|
begin to explore more of the pain which haunts you."
|
|
She felt his fingers leave her skin and allow her to float freely.
|
|
Out into the pool. The sound of the river brushing its banks vanished.
|
|
The wind in the trees disappeared. She heard only her breath: shallow,
|
|
even and barely existent. Breinert was still behind her; she felt his
|
|
presence. The priest's hand covered her forehead and pushed down
|
|
lightly. A cool tingle washed over her face and Cirrangill released her
|
|
...
|
|
|
|
White tapestries. White flagstones. Rianna squinted in the
|
|
brightness. It was as if the world had become a reflecting pool for the
|
|
sun. As the shards of light sharpened, images came into focus. A stone
|
|
archway stood at her side, just through it the blue of a cloudless sky.
|
|
She felt weightless.
|
|
"Rianna."
|
|
Breinert's voice whispered around her. It flitted left and right,
|
|
came from the solidifying walls and floor. From her skin.
|
|
"I hear you," she replied, disoriented. Her voice sounded feeble
|
|
and ghostlike in comparison.
|
|
The whisper grew in strength. "Where are you?"
|
|
"In my keep."
|
|
Her keep. She stood on the smooth, cool flagstones of her grand
|
|
hall, bathed in an unnaturally bright light. The ceiling vaulted above,
|
|
its normal shadows chased away in this netherland. She remembered the
|
|
landscape from other sessions with the priest. Even without him, in
|
|
dreams on cold nights, she walked in this place. Dozens of familiar
|
|
objects sat beside walls and on tables: goblets, portraits, heirlooms.
|
|
There were items she had not seen for years, things she had sold in
|
|
secret to ease the growing debt from her stricken lands. She stooped to
|
|
pick up the white rose she plucked ages ago, the one whose dry husk now
|
|
hung in her bedroom. The flower's petals were full and tender here; its
|
|
sweet bouquet filled her nose.
|
|
The whisper interrupted. "Do you see the altar?" it asked.
|
|
Rianna paused. Thoughts formed with difficulty here. Lifting her
|
|
gaze, she looked out beyond the images of memories and relics.
|
|
At the far end of the hall sat a gilded dais, behind it a great
|
|
wall adorned with family heraldry and a tapestry depicting a battle from
|
|
the Shadow Wars. Atop the platform, a shrouded altar stood.
|
|
Rianna nodded, a lump developing in her throat.
|
|
"Go to it," the whisper urged.
|
|
Her legs refused to move at once. Memories trickled into her
|
|
sluggish form. The altar. She remembered. This was what the priest
|
|
wanted her to find. She willed herself to move forward, dropping the
|
|
rose in her wake. The altar. The object that had always been there, in
|
|
all her visitations.
|
|
There had been a time when she believed it to be nothing more than
|
|
a table, off at the far end of the hall. But as she had explored the
|
|
chalices and chests in this place, some vanishing or moving as their
|
|
contents were revealed, the altar's unchanging stature gained more
|
|
prominence. Another voice, one deep inside her, told her to avoid it.
|
|
The altar intimidated her, caused her to want to shy away. Only recently
|
|
had she even mentioned the object to Breinert.
|
|
"This is what we want," he had told her after a previous session,
|
|
the beautiful, hazel eyes firm. He was trying to help her.
|
|
Trying to help. She clenched her fists and moved forward, the
|
|
stones growing noticeably cooler beneath her feet. The rectangular shape
|
|
grew as she approached. Her stomach shrank.
|
|
But there would be no more interruptions, no more avoidances on her
|
|
part. Breinert knew about the thing and was convinced that it was
|
|
important. In all her years visiting him, he had never gotten as excited
|
|
over any of her dream objects as this one. The time had come for her to
|
|
investigate.
|
|
It was several times her girth, with clawed feet anchoring a marble
|
|
hulk to several shallow steps. Fluted corners decorated the edges,
|
|
disappearing under a gauzy shroud. Several long, uneasy moments passed
|
|
as she stopped before it, continuing to stare.
|
|
Around her, she heard the whisper: "Fear withers us, courage
|
|
strengthens us."
|
|
She looked hard at the altar, unmoving. A light breeze stirred the
|
|
shroud's fringe.
|
|
"Fear withers us ..."
|
|
Hesitantly, she reached out and grabbed a corner of the cloth,
|
|
pulling it from its perch. The material felt rough and serrated,
|
|
something related to silk, but much stiffer.
|
|
A marble coverstone as thick as her wrist came into view. Delicate,
|
|
etched vines adorned the top, circling a plaque inscribed with letters.
|
|
She stepped closer to read them, her hands coming to rest on the
|
|
frigid surface of the tomb. Her fear retreated as she comprehended the
|
|
word. Gingerly, she reached out to trace the symbols with her fingers,
|
|
one by one.
|
|
"What does it say?" the whisper asked.
|
|
"Callid," she breathed.
|
|
Her husband.
|
|
Her eyes filled with blazing light. She was in the air, giggling,
|
|
looking down into her husband's face on a summer afternoon. They were
|
|
behind the keep, in a field unsuitable for farming. Her hair was loose
|
|
and about her shoulders, his firm grasp at her waist. It was before the
|
|
dry spell, when the field held hundreds of blooming flowers, their
|
|
yellow and white petals blinding in the sun. Callid looked up at her in
|
|
adoration and mirth, honey-brown eyes smiling as sure as his bearded
|
|
mouth.
|
|
And just as quickly as they came, the flowers withered. The field
|
|
vanished. She lay in bed. A crisp, cold touch of snow-filled air brushed
|
|
her cheek. The only light came from the darkening bed of coals in the
|
|
hearth. Beside her she felt the warm comfort of Callid's form sleeping
|
|
soundly. He was there, lying against her back, his gentle breathing
|
|
whispering through the room.
|
|
The chill thickened. Rain. She stood in the door to the stables.
|
|
The heavy, wet smell of animals and hay filled her nostrils. Callid
|
|
dismounted from his horse and approached her, cloak, tunic, and leggings
|
|
sodden with rainwater. He embraced her and she now smelled the scent of
|
|
his body beneath the clothes, pushing out everything else in the world.
|
|
It was something that lingered on bedclothes and his old cloaks,
|
|
something whose source she longed for dearly.
|
|
The sound of showers ebbed into silence, and she realized she was
|
|
back in the grand hall, on the dais. A man still stood in her grasp. She
|
|
looked up and saw Callid's kind face, with golden eyes somewhat sadder
|
|
now, peering deeply into her own. Gently, he released one of her hands
|
|
from his and lifted it.
|
|
The silver ring shone hotly on her finger. It burned in the white
|
|
surroundings of the hall, a cold, noiseless flame.
|
|
He stepped back, out of her arms.
|
|
"Callid," she started, tears forming. "Please. Just a little
|
|
longer?"
|
|
He took another step back, shaking his head. Rianna felt the warmth
|
|
of his embrace disappearing; cool air filled the space where she had
|
|
once held him. She became aware of a sound coming from the distance: a
|
|
heavy, rushing sigh that grew in volume. Around her, the walls
|
|
shimmered.
|
|
"Please," she pleaded, louder, taking a halting step towards him.
|
|
The hall crumbled.
|
|
|
|
"Callid!"
|
|
Rianna sat up violently in the small pool, screaming her dead
|
|
husband's name. Breinert was instantly by her, thigh-deep in the water.
|
|
"Rianna!" he shouted, trying to grab her flailing arms. "M'lady!
|
|
Awaken!" He crouched down beside her, concern etched on his face.
|
|
She almost didn't recognize him. She stumbled back from his grasp
|
|
like an animal cornered, hand clenched to her mouth. She looked
|
|
bewilderedly about her. The pool. The ritual. Her shift had slid down
|
|
off one shoulder. Self-consciously, she covered her breast and tried to
|
|
regain composure.
|
|
Breinert stood motionless, his sleeves and elbows dripping,
|
|
watching her.
|
|
"Please," she choked, then cleared her throat. "Please, priest, get
|
|
me my robe. I think we're finished for the day."
|
|
|
|
Rianna refused to speak with him about the vision afterwards. For
|
|
the first time in her memory, she didn't care to hear Breinert's advice
|
|
or counsel. There was no time for it. She had obligations. Despite his
|
|
protests, she changed at the abbey and immediately took her carriage to
|
|
Kenna, instructing her driver to take his time in arriving. There was
|
|
nothing else for her to do but attend this ball. There was nothing for
|
|
her to think about.
|
|
Evening had fallen by the time they reached the gates. All the
|
|
ramparts were alight with torches, the guards dressed in their finery.
|
|
Inside, she found the expected crowds of nobles and merchants of the
|
|
region, many of whom feigned delight at seeing her.
|
|
"It's been so long!"
|
|
"The lack of rain's been dreadful for you, hasn't it?"
|
|
"Have you still not remarried, my dear?"
|
|
Rianna made her rounds early, pretending to ignore the hushed
|
|
conversations that blossomed as she left each group. In less than a
|
|
bell, she retired to a quiet corner, away from much of the commotion.
|
|
Before her dark gaze, couples danced to the strings and lute, seemingly
|
|
oblivious and gay. She fidgeted with the ring on her finger, turning it
|
|
obsessively. The band weighed unusually heavy.
|
|
Her new handmaiden, silent on the ride and arrival, meekly stepped
|
|
forward. "Would my lady care for a drink?"
|
|
"Wine," Rianna muttered, not shifting her gaze from the spectacle
|
|
on the floor.
|
|
Relieved at having some purpose, the girl fled.
|
|
"I would be glad to offer you something stronger, m'lady."
|
|
Rianna started at the voice. She found Tremmel standing beside her
|
|
proudly, decked in his family's livery of crimson and silver. The black
|
|
embroidery of a flanduil's head adorned the breast. The lord's dark
|
|
beard was neatly trimmed around a pointed jaw, and his pock-marked cheek
|
|
was less noticeable in the hall's dim light.
|
|
She sighed inwardly. "I don't think that would be a wise choice, my
|
|
lord." She mustered a smile and offered him a hand out of courtesy. He
|
|
accepted, brushing her fingers ever so lightly with his lips.
|
|
"Just as well," he replied, straightening. "I think they water the
|
|
stuff down."
|
|
He lifted an earthen mug to his mouth and took a long draught.
|
|
"There's speculation that it may rain this evening."
|
|
Rianna only hoped the storm would continue eastward, over the
|
|
mountains. She thought of the withered daffodils on the other side of
|
|
the Darst. "Then it's a good thing the feast is indoors," she said
|
|
dryly.
|
|
"Pah," he grumbled. "This is nothing but a parent's show of pride."
|
|
She didn't answer. She didn't have the heart. Rianna prayed that
|
|
this one time Tremmel could feel the awkwardness between them. To her
|
|
best effort, she offered him nothing in the way of outward affection. He
|
|
spoke and she replied aloofly, not meeting his gaze. He stepped closer
|
|
to her and she tensed, wishing to all the gods he would just get away
|
|
from her.
|
|
Conversation fell silent between them, the sounds of the reception
|
|
filling the void. Tremmel took another swig from his mug, draining the
|
|
contents.
|
|
"My lady, a dance?"
|
|
She prepared to decline gracefully, but Tremmel's hand was on hers,
|
|
pulling her onto the floor. The mug he carried must not have been his
|
|
first. Rianna gasped as the lord's left arm clamped about her waist,
|
|
bringing him uncomfortably close.
|
|
The music started. Tremmel had her circle the floor as the
|
|
musicians played festively. Couples wove intricate patterns around them;
|
|
gowns ballooned in response to twirls. In the blur of motion, she saw
|
|
the arms of gentlemen about their ladies, smiles on their countenances.
|
|
She politely resisted other attempts by Tremmel to pull her close,
|
|
pushing away in a side step if his arm grabbed her again.
|
|
Try as he might, the lord's movements were not part of the dance.
|
|
He broke the pattern regularly, drawing attention to them. Rianna
|
|
flushed hotly with each disjointed round. Tremmel managed to pull her
|
|
close one more time as she misstepped. Big teeth smiled from under his
|
|
wiry beard, the stink of ale rank upon his breath.
|
|
Rianna's feet faltered. Tremmel laughed and attempted to drag her
|
|
back into his own rhythm. Gentility fled from her; she pushed away from
|
|
him at last, fleeing to the outskirts of the floor, clutching her middle
|
|
as if out of breath.
|
|
The lord followed in haste. "I've pushed you too hard, my lady?"
|
|
"Yes," she replied, too fiercely. Faces turned in the crowd
|
|
surrounding them.
|
|
The music continued to play, couples danced, but Tremmel's face
|
|
hardened. "Perhaps we should take a walk in the garden to refresh
|
|
ourselves?"
|
|
Before she could reply, his thick fingers locked on to her and led
|
|
her through the groups of revelers.
|
|
A garden was situated just beyond the hall, set within the castle's
|
|
protective bailey. They brushed several nobles on their exit, some
|
|
glancing back as they walked by. The lord made no apologies or excuses.
|
|
Outside, the wind was up, tinged with moisture.
|
|
Tremmel released her once they were on the tailored path, but he
|
|
did not look at her directly. Instead, he marched stiffly ahead, hands
|
|
clasped behind his back.
|
|
"You are not your pleasant self tonight," he called back.
|
|
"Neither are you," she almost retorted, but Tremmel was never
|
|
exactly pleasant.
|
|
When he noticed she did not follow, the lord stopped. "Will you
|
|
deny me this walk as well?" he demanded.
|
|
There was little light out beyond the entrance. Torches placed
|
|
along the path burned foully, their heavy smoke filling the air.
|
|
Uneasily, she came forward, following him on around the edges of the
|
|
garden, pointed spires of shrubs their only eavesdroppers.
|
|
"The day has been difficult," she did say, not knowing how to
|
|
reply. There was ale in Tremmel's blood, and she began to worry.
|
|
"It has been a difficult year," he countered, halting. They stood
|
|
under the lanky branches of a weeping cherry, his face cast in shadow.
|
|
"It is no secret that I have affections for you, m'lady."
|
|
Rianna flushed at the confession. She felt embarrassed for him.
|
|
"Your lands haven't enough water, nor your people enough food," he
|
|
continued. "My wealth can help change that. Why do you resist?"
|
|
Her embarrassment flared to anger. "Your concern is appreciated but
|
|
unwarranted, sir. My lands are my own business!"
|
|
"Your lands are the kingdom's business," Tremmel growled, his hands
|
|
animatedly pointing to the land around them. "You, m'lady, have been
|
|
shown too much leniency in your refusal to remarry!"
|
|
A rustling emerged from along the path. There were others in the
|
|
garden.
|
|
"Rianna," Tremmel started again, lowering his voice. He looked away
|
|
for a moment and then back, as if gathering his thoughts. "I would
|
|
rather you gave yourself willingly than otherwise." He reached out and
|
|
caught her hand, his fingers closing on the ring.
|
|
She pulled back from his touch and slapped him.
|
|
The lord did not recoil from her blow. "That ring," he hissed,
|
|
raising his fist. "You still wear that infernal ring!"
|
|
Strong fingers dug into her arms and her dress, crushing her.
|
|
Fabric ripped. Rianna struggled with him, trying to push his bulk away.
|
|
>From the darkness, a shape emerged, calling out to the guards.
|
|
Tremmel released her, turning to face the intruder.
|
|
Breinert stood by a torch, unflinching against the other man's
|
|
wrath. Tremmel was upon him in an instant, grabbing the priest's collar
|
|
and hoisting him off the ground. But the lord stopped short of assault,
|
|
catching the sound of feet running quickly towards them. Throwing the
|
|
priest down, Tremmel snarled and fled.
|
|
When hands reached for her again, Rianna batted them away
|
|
frantically.
|
|
"Easy, Rianna, easy," Breinert whispered, his voice filled with
|
|
concern. The priest's arms embraced her, an awkwardness in their touch.
|
|
"You left the monastery so abruptly," he tried to explain. "I followed
|
|
... I felt it important to attend. And then I saw you and the brute
|
|
dancing ..."
|
|
She clung to him, realizing this was the first time she had ever
|
|
held him. The scent of sage filled her nostrils -- that curious scent
|
|
which always accompanied calm and serenity, floating freely. It was
|
|
Breinert's peace. Breinert's love.
|
|
Rianna tore away, shaking her head.
|
|
The priest looked confused. "M'lady?" he asked.
|
|
She stood up in her ruined dress and ran into the dark of the
|
|
garden, away from that pillar that touched off a wild craving in her
|
|
heart.
|
|
|
|
Rianna abandoned her handmaiden at the reception and had her
|
|
carriage take her back to the monastery. Refusing an escort, she fled
|
|
the abbey and stumbled her way down the paths to the sound of the river,
|
|
out on the bluff near the priest's pool. For how long she stood on the
|
|
rocky plateau, high above the Coldwell, she could not tell. Instead, she
|
|
focused on trying to discern the course of the river running invisibly
|
|
in the night beyond. There was no moon to illuminate the landscape.
|
|
Clouds blanketed the sky.
|
|
Rianna stood motionless in that darkness. She listened to the
|
|
rushing waters, feeling nothing inside or out, trying to push out the
|
|
arguments in her head.
|
|
How many suitors had courted her? How many had been too loud? Too
|
|
fat? How many of her subjects had gone hungry this winter?
|
|
She swallowed heavily and clasped her hands over her ears,
|
|
whispering over and over, "Please. Please stop."
|
|
But she couldn't stop the reprimands and accusations in her mind.
|
|
The questions. Tremmel's words. Breinert's voice.
|
|
"Have you still not remarried?"
|
|
"Your lands haven't enough water ..."
|
|
She saw Callid as he stood in the grand hall, eyes infinitely sad.
|
|
The wall inside of her, the one that struggled to portray a strong
|
|
noble, crumbled like so many battlements neglected over the ages. She
|
|
shook her head, sobbing, her lower lip trembling. Hot tears streaked
|
|
down her cheeks, and this time she let them fall.
|
|
Fiercely, she grasped the wedding band on her finger and jerked on
|
|
it. The metal clung tightly to her flesh, scraped against it. Rianna
|
|
grew more desperate as she yanked.
|
|
"My vow," she gritted, pulling the ring free and raising it.
|
|
Lightning flashed in the distance. "I honored you, Callid. I loved and
|
|
followed you. I supported and strengthened you. I was your wife!" she
|
|
cried to the river. "Why did you leave me? Why did the gods take you
|
|
from me?"
|
|
Her fingers closed into a fist about the ring, as if she could
|
|
crush or deform the band, break the circle. She cocked her arm to throw
|
|
its burden into the darkness, trembling with the effort.
|
|
But her arm refused to complete its motion. She remained that way
|
|
for moments: clenched and ready to finish the action. What was it that
|
|
stopped her? What prevented her from being rid of this agony?
|
|
"Callid," she breathed, shuddering.
|
|
Her knees buckled and she fell onto them, letting the ring drop
|
|
from her fingers. The band uttered its own high-pitched cry as it struck
|
|
the stone.
|
|
She dropped onto her back, lifting her hands to her face, weeping.
|
|
Rain began to fall swiftly about her, striking her arms with cold,
|
|
stinging drops. Rianna opened her eyes to the wet night, the water
|
|
mixing with her own salty tears.
|
|
Rolling over, she made out the ring just beyond her reach at the
|
|
edge of the drop.
|
|
"No," she whimpered. It was wrong, regardless of what the vision
|
|
told her. Callid was her husband. His memory was her life. His honor was
|
|
in her care. It was all that was left for her. She reached out for the
|
|
band, her fingers brushing it, nudging it closer to the fall.
|
|
From deep within, the whisper of her dreams spoke: "Fear withers
|
|
us. Courage strengthens us."
|
|
She paused, her fingers about to light upon the metal, to grasp it
|
|
or fling it from the cliff. In her mind a thousand thoughts sparked.
|
|
Fear or courage? Flowers blossomed. The unknown or the painfully
|
|
familiar? She smelled the sea.
|
|
Her fingers descended.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
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|
Talisman Three
|
|
Part 2
|
|
by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
|
|
<John.White@Drexel.Edu>
|
|
Fall, 748 FE
|
|
|
|
Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 13-1
|
|
|
|
Virrila, who had been Kersh's sponsor, stood in the doorway of the
|
|
large room where Kersh had been accepted as a student just a few days
|
|
before. She said, "He's here, Tchad."
|
|
Zarilt, the Tchad -- teacher -- of the students of his Way, was
|
|
alone in the room, standing in front of the stone table that bore the
|
|
five objects that made up the contents of the Treasury of Farevlin. He
|
|
sighed, paused, and then nodded and gestured.
|
|
Virrila stepped to the side, out of sight, and Fessim, a short,
|
|
swarthy man, took her place in the doorway and then started walking
|
|
across the empty floor. Fessim, who had been summoned alone into the
|
|
vault of the Treasury. Fessim, who had done the one thing that was
|
|
forbidden here.
|
|
When Zarilt had become Treasurer upon the death of his Uncle
|
|
Taddis, he'd had no regrets about leaving his former life behind. That
|
|
life had consisted of him being a cooper, and a good one too. His
|
|
barrels had been sought out by merchants and shop keepers who needed to
|
|
keep their wares, from water to flour, safe. He had taken pride in his
|
|
work, and had always striven to make the best barrels he possibly could.
|
|
Unfortunately, Zarilt's home had been in a large city in one of the
|
|
larger states of Farevlin, which had meant that he had not been the only
|
|
cooper plying his trade. And some of his competition had preferred to
|
|
make and sell their barrels shoddy and cheap, rather than of the highest
|
|
quality. When Zarilt had complained to the masters of his guild, they
|
|
had simply indicated that they had no interest in regulating the
|
|
materials their members used, or the prices they charged. When Zarilt
|
|
had pressed his complaint, he had been threatened with expulsion if he
|
|
didn't let the matter drop. He had returned home decidedly the worse for
|
|
his trip; he had been firmly in the bad graces of his guild masters.
|
|
It had become harder and harder to make a living at his chosen
|
|
craft. What with guild dues and state taxes and the increasingly
|
|
frequent city fund levies, Zarilt had been forced to lower his standards
|
|
and produce cheaper barrels, since he couldn't afford to sell his better
|
|
barrels at a loss.
|
|
And then there were the other trials of his former life, like
|
|
slackard apprentices who'd had no love, or even aptitude, for coopering.
|
|
They had only been apprenticing with him because they had been assigned
|
|
to him by the guild. Some of them had been friends with the apprentices
|
|
of other coopers who didn't work their students nearly as hard as Zarilt
|
|
did, which had earned him complaints and even more assiduously shirked
|
|
duties. Only the guild could release an apprentice, but because of his
|
|
reputation with the guild, Zarilt had been unable to get his
|
|
troublemaking apprentices released or traded to another master.
|
|
All of that trouble had vanished when he had become Treasurer of
|
|
Farevlin. Furthermore, since he had discovered his philosophy, his Way,
|
|
and decided to spread that philosophy to others, his shoulders had
|
|
stayed free of the weight of responsibility. Except for one thing, the
|
|
thing that brought Fessim to him today. For Fessim was going to be
|
|
expelled today, and he would gladly have gone back to his old life to
|
|
avoid that task, as necessary as it was to the health of his informal
|
|
philosophical school.
|
|
Fessim halted his walk across the floor several paces in front of
|
|
Zarilt, and at a gesture from him, knelt. Zarilt grabbed the chair next
|
|
to him and sat -- he wasn't young enough any more to kneel for any long
|
|
period of time, but he didn't want to tower over the other man.
|
|
He looked at Fessim for a short while. Of course, Fessim knew why
|
|
he was here. There were only a handful of reasons to be summoned alone
|
|
in front of the Tchad, and Fessim didn't qualify for any of them but
|
|
one. Fessim's brows were drawn together in a petulantly angry look, and
|
|
his mouth was compressed into a thin line.
|
|
"Fessim," Zarilt finally began, "you know why you are here. It is
|
|
my duty, my only duty beyond educating my students, to keep them safe.
|
|
To provide an environment here where they can contemplate my message,
|
|
and find their way to the Way. You have disrupted that environment,
|
|
disturbed the calm of the student body, interrupted the learning of my
|
|
students.
|
|
"Here at the Treasury, all are equal. Everyone takes turns doing
|
|
just enough to keep us all alive and healthy. Everyone takes turns
|
|
working in the fields, or shepherding the animals, cleaning the rooms,
|
|
cooking, making repairs as required, all the little things that must be
|
|
done on a daily basis. With so many hands, the work goes quickly, and
|
|
all of my students have plenty of free time, time to themselves, time to
|
|
study the words of my Way if that is what they wish.
|
|
"But not you. You wanted to change things, to make yourself more
|
|
than equal, which meant making others less than equal. You started by
|
|
trading food for not having to do your share of the work. Then you began
|
|
to make deals of favors between people, making yourself important to
|
|
people who wanted some things that are not normally available here. And
|
|
eventually, you ended up collecting favors instead of trading them,
|
|
making people beholden to you, willing to do things to keep you happy
|
|
with them.
|
|
"Which is exactly the kind of complication that my students come
|
|
here to get away from. Masters and servants, haves and have-nots, always
|
|
a situation where there is someone else to give you worth, to assign to
|
|
you a status. Of all the things that you could have done wrong here,
|
|
storing up power was the worst.
|
|
"You leave me no choice. You were warned several times early on,
|
|
but every time you started again. You do not yet belong here, Fessim.
|
|
You have not let go of the outside world enough to hear my words, to
|
|
understand the Way. You must go.
|
|
"You will be given an escort to Bluebell Rock if you wish. You will
|
|
leave here with only what you brought with you -- nothing you gained
|
|
here can be taken from here. It would be best if you were gone by
|
|
evening. If at some time in the future you decide that you wish to try
|
|
to learn my Way again, you will be welcomed back, but if you do return,
|
|
you will have to earn our trust instead of being granted it
|
|
automatically."
|
|
Zarilt paused, pondering Fessim's crime. He wasn't the first to
|
|
have fallen back into the ways of the outside world, of course. Zarilt
|
|
remembered one of his early students, a man named Adamik, who had done
|
|
much the same as Fessim. But, because Zarilt had just been learning what
|
|
he needed to do to keep his school functioning, Adamik had been able to
|
|
carry on longer, so that he formed a second tier of 'haves'; people who
|
|
were owed favors, but who in turn owed Adamik favors, further
|
|
perpetuating false and destructive hierarchies. Adamik had been
|
|
expelled, but that second tier had simply been chastised. And even
|
|
though each of them had eventually left, they had at least been granted
|
|
the chance to evaluate the Way without distractions once Adamik was
|
|
gone.
|
|
However, Zarilt still didn't understand what motivated these kinds
|
|
of people to rebuild the feudal system in whatever environment they
|
|
found themselves. Why had they left the real world in the first place,
|
|
if that was the kind of thing they wanted?
|
|
He knew that asking his final question was futile, but he decided
|
|
to do it anyway. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I have one last
|
|
question for you, Fessim. Why?"
|
|
Fessim had been looking at the floor in front of his knees for the
|
|
whole time Zarilt had been speaking, and he continued staring for quite
|
|
a long time after Zarilt's final question. So long, in fact, that Zarilt
|
|
was just opening his mouth to dismiss his former student when Fessim's
|
|
head jerked up, eyes burning, mouth now frowning.
|
|
"You want to know why, Zarilt?" asked Fessim in a harsh voice. "You
|
|
want to know why someone would try to usurp your position at the top of
|
|
this collection of spineless sheep? The answer is, because I could.
|
|
That's why."
|
|
Fessim rose quickly to his feet, and continued, "Your little
|
|
pacifist army is weak, Zarilt. Your philosophy is worthless, your
|
|
leadership is flawed, and your Way is an impossible dream. It is only a
|
|
matter of time, Zarilt, until someone comes in here and takes all of
|
|
your sheep-students away from you for slaves. You've collected the
|
|
worthless, the dregs of society, the malcontents here in one convenient
|
|
place for the slavers to come and take them. It will happen, Zarilt,
|
|
someone will come and end your demented dream, and I'm glad I won't be
|
|
here when it does!"
|
|
Fessim turned and stormed to the doors. Without a backward glance,
|
|
he slammed through them and vanished.
|
|
Zarilt looked after the former student for a while. He hadn't
|
|
expected that outburst, but it hadn't bothered him either. Fessim simply
|
|
hadn't grasped the meaning of the Way, or why his students had sought
|
|
him out. He hoped that Fessim would find whatever it was he was looking
|
|
for.
|
|
With a shake of his head and a sigh, Zarilt stood from his chair
|
|
and walked out of the room.
|
|
|
|
A sennight had passed since that first afternoon in the market
|
|
square of Tilting Falls, and Torenda's Troupe was on the move again, had
|
|
been for three days. Three wagons pulled by two horses each carried all
|
|
of their belongings, from the clothes of the players to the stage
|
|
itself, broken down into pieces for convenience of transport. Each wagon
|
|
could carry four people, but usually carried only two on the driver's
|
|
bench. The rest of the troupe walked, which was why they hadn't yet
|
|
reached Roebsach, their intended destination, normally only two days'
|
|
ride from Tilting Falls.
|
|
Thanj, the Troupe's illusionist, and Naka, the master musician and
|
|
one of the four leaders of the Troupe, rode in the front wagon, though
|
|
that wagon wasn't in the lead. That duty fell at that moment to Elin,
|
|
the Troupe's stage manager, and three of the other players who were
|
|
walking in front of the wagon. It was a pleasant day in early fall, and
|
|
the two on the driver's bench had been passing the time in companionable
|
|
silence, enjoying the trees and fields on either side of the trade road
|
|
that lead west and somewhat south through that portion of Farevlin.
|
|
Eventually, Thanj broke the silence by turning to Naka and asking,
|
|
"So, why are you still with the Troupe?"
|
|
Naka looked at Thanj with a surprised expression on her face, and
|
|
responded with an incredulous, "What?"
|
|
Thanj hastily explained himself. "I ... I mean, you could have
|
|
settled down by now, couldn't you? I remember last spring, how Duke
|
|
Gazinnel offered you the position of her court musician, after saying
|
|
how sorry she was that she couldn't afford to sponsor the whole troupe.
|
|
And I've heard that her offer wasn't the first. So, for true, why didn't
|
|
you take it?"
|
|
"The obvious answer is right here," Naka said, touching her hanging
|
|
blue-disk earring. "You know what these mean, and what's more," she
|
|
continued, touching her opposite hip, "what these mean."
|
|
Thanj got a faraway look in his eye momentarily, and nodded
|
|
thoughtfully.
|
|
"I couldn't leave the troupe, if it would mean leaving my
|
|
bond-mates. But ... but, they aren't the only reason."
|
|
Silence passed between them for a while, and Thanj, thinking he
|
|
wasn't going to get any further answer, was about to apologize for being
|
|
so tactless when Naka continued.
|
|
"It's ... for as long as I can remember, I've wanted to travel,
|
|
Thanj. Almost needed to travel. Once I passed my apprenticeship at
|
|
instrument making, the urge became almost unbearable. It wasn't the
|
|
romance of the road, the adventure of seeing new places and new people,
|
|
though. Nothing like that. It was like there was something ... some part
|
|
of me, perhaps ... out there, waiting for me to find it.
|
|
"When I found Torenda's Troupe, and met Orla, Elin, and Kend for
|
|
the first time, I thought I had found it, found that missing piece. And,
|
|
to some extent, I had. I fit into their relationship so easily that it
|
|
seemed a foregone conclusion -- it was like we were destined to be
|
|
together, we belonged together.
|
|
"But the wanderlust, the need to be on the move, to continue
|
|
searching, only abated, it didn't vanish. There is still something out
|
|
there waiting to be found, Thanj. Something that draws me onward. Even
|
|
if, by some horrible turn of bad luck, the bonding was broken ..." Naka
|
|
pinched her blue disk earring and muttered a word of propitiation to
|
|
ward off that very same bad luck, then continued, "I would still need to
|
|
be out traveling, looking for that something ..."
|
|
Silence stretched again, and eventually, Thanj said, in a soft
|
|
voice, "Oh."
|
|
In the middle of Naka's revelation, a few paces away at the front
|
|
of the caravan, Elin had come to a fork in the road. A sign-post stood
|
|
at the junction with an arrow pointing down each branch. Elin glanced at
|
|
it, just to confirm that the road to Roebsach continued on before them,
|
|
but she was surprised to find that the sign pointing to the southward
|
|
branch was the one that bore the lettering for Roebsach.
|
|
She glanced over her shoulder, and debated halting the caravan
|
|
while she made sure. She had thought that there weren't supposed to be
|
|
any turns off of the main trade road between Tilting Falls and Roebsach,
|
|
but she could have been mistaken. She looked at the signpost again, and
|
|
it was the lower sign, pointing south, that said Roebsach.
|
|
Shrugging, trusting the sign, she started out along the southward
|
|
branch. The players followed, trusting Elin to lead them properly. Naka
|
|
was still talking, and Thanj listening, when the lead wagon turned down
|
|
the south path, the horses following the people in front of them in the
|
|
absence of any instructions to the contrary.
|
|
The two players in the middle wagon looked at the signpost and
|
|
wondered why the caravan had turned south. It was clear to them that the
|
|
upper sign indicated Roebsach and pointed along the way they had been
|
|
going all along. They knew, however, that Elin was leading just then, so
|
|
she must have had a reason to deviate from the proper path.
|
|
Kend was driving the last wagon, with Orla sitting beside him. He
|
|
had one hand on the reigns and one hand on her thigh, and they had been
|
|
riding for a long time in companionable silence. But for most of that
|
|
time, Kend had been working up to something. Just about the time that
|
|
Elin steered the caravan south, Kend decided that the time had come.
|
|
"You recovered from your illness back in Tilting Falls quickly," he
|
|
said as evenly as he could.
|
|
Orla responded, after a beat, "Oh, it wasn't anything serious ...
|
|
just a, just ... nothing serious."
|
|
"I see," Kend said. He waited for a few moments, and then said, "I
|
|
was talking to Janile a few days ago. She was telling me about the rest
|
|
of that party in the inn's common room, about some of the jokes that
|
|
went around, about how Naka's playing was, as usual, very well received.
|
|
She even commented on how long after Elin and I went upstairs it was
|
|
before Naka gave up playing, and then how much longer it was before you
|
|
and she went upstairs ... arm in arm."
|
|
"I ... I," Orla stammered.
|
|
As Kend made to reply, the horses pulling the wagon took the turn
|
|
south, following the people walking in front of them. Kend paused,
|
|
looked over at the signpost, saw that the bottom, south-pointing sign
|
|
said Roebsach, shrugged, and turned back to Orla.
|
|
"I'm not angry, Orla. I have no reason to be. I am, however,
|
|
slightly disappointed. We're all bonded, Orla, one unit, but we're still
|
|
separate people. I take it that you just wanted Naka that night, even
|
|
though it was your turn in my bed, right?"
|
|
Orla nodded, and Kend continued, "Then all you had to do was ask.
|
|
Obviously, you talked to the others about it, since they already knew
|
|
what was going on. But you didn't talk to me, and that hurts me, Orla.
|
|
Why wasn't I informed about your desire to switch? Did you think that I
|
|
wouldn't understand?"
|
|
Orla was silent, thinking about what had happened. She said, "When
|
|
I was backstage that day, I mentioned to Elin that Naka had been
|
|
over-tired the night before, and that I was a little sorry that it would
|
|
be two days before she and I could be together again. Elin suggested a
|
|
solution -- that she and I switch turns. We discussed it with Naka, and
|
|
she agreed. We ... we didn't think to ask you, since all of the other
|
|
parties had agreed.
|
|
"That was rude of us, Kend, and I apologize. We simply weren't
|
|
thinking properly. What can we ... I ... do to make it up to you?"
|
|
"Don't worry about it, Orla. Just remember, next time, that I
|
|
wouldn't mind being part of your discussions about who gets to sleep
|
|
with me when. All right?"
|
|
"Absolutely, Kend. We'll never leave you out again. I'll make sure
|
|
the others know. Maybe tonight we can set up two of the tents together,
|
|
and all share the blankets together, eh?"
|
|
She took his smile for an assent, and slid closer to him on the
|
|
bench, placing a hand on his thigh as well.
|
|
The wagon continued on at the rear of the caravan, traveling along
|
|
a road that was getting narrower by the league. Trees closed in on both
|
|
sides of the road, and a grassy hump appeared in the middle, indicating
|
|
that the road wasn't a well traveled one.
|
|
Eventually, Kend roused from his contemplation of the comparative
|
|
ease with which problems in his current relationship got solved --
|
|
certainly not his experience in his previous few relationships -- and
|
|
thought to wonder why the only trade road between Tilting Falls and
|
|
Roebsach should be showing such signs of disuse.
|
|
He called a halt forward, and gradually the whole caravan slowed to
|
|
a stop. Giving the wagon to two players, he and Orla worked their way
|
|
forward along the very narrow road, picking up Naka and Thanj at the
|
|
first wagon and stopping at the front of the caravan.
|
|
"What's wrong?" asked Elin when the other three leaders arrived at
|
|
the front.
|
|
"Are you sure we are going the right way?" asked Kend.
|
|
"It doesn't make sense that the road to Roebsach should be this
|
|
overgrown," added Orla.
|
|
"Well," said Elin, "the sign said that we should go south to
|
|
Roebsach, and we did."
|
|
One of the players standing behind them said, "Your pardon,
|
|
Elianijit, but it did not. The top sign pointed the way we were going
|
|
before, and said Roebsach on it. We thought that you knew a short cut,
|
|
or had some other reason to take this branch."
|
|
The four leaders of the Troupe looked at each other. Kend confirmed
|
|
that he had seen the bottom sign pointing to Roebsach, but the other two
|
|
leaders hadn't seen the signpost, and of the players that had, all
|
|
indicated that the top sign had indicated their intended destination.
|
|
Orla finally said, "Something odd happened back there, and we may
|
|
never know what. But one thing is sure: we can't turn the wagons around
|
|
on this narrow road. We will just have to continue on until we find a
|
|
wider portion, or someone who can tell us where this pathway leads."
|
|
The caravan slowly started moving forward again, with the four
|
|
leaders plus Thanj walking in front. The path didn't get any worse, but
|
|
it didn't get any better either, and they came across no clearings until
|
|
the light was fading as the sun set at the end of the day.
|
|
The clearing they found was to the side of a way-cabin that was
|
|
designed to provide shelter for winter or storm-caught travelers. The
|
|
wooden shack was small and had a crude stone chimney that leaned as if
|
|
against a stiff wind. Since it was time to stop for the night anyway,
|
|
Orla gave the command for the wagons to be parked in the clearing, the
|
|
horses to be seen to, and camp to be set up. Meanwhile, the leading
|
|
group took a look in the way-cabin.
|
|
The cabin was typical of its kind. It had a fireplace covering one
|
|
wall, equipped for both heating and cooking, with a bread oven and all.
|
|
One wall had shelves containing provisions and a door leading to a
|
|
storeroom. Naka peeked into the storeroom to find more provisions and
|
|
good sized stack of firewood. The opposite wall had six bunks, three
|
|
over three, and one of them was occupied.
|
|
Kend went over to the occupied bunk, knelt, and found a dead body.
|
|
It had obviously been lying there for a while. No large animals had been
|
|
able to breach the cabin, but small animals, rodents and the like, had
|
|
been able to get at the body. It was not a pretty sight.
|
|
There wasn't anything identifiable about the corpse, including its
|
|
sex. Picked apart clothes and blankets, bones and desiccated flesh were
|
|
all that was left, except for a satchel hanging on a peg on the last
|
|
wall.
|
|
Thanj took the satchel down and spilled its contents onto a table
|
|
in one corner. Odds and ends were revealed: travel provisions, personal
|
|
gear, some small coins, and a soft-cloth bag embroidered all over with
|
|
silver and gold thread in a strange, blocky and angular script.
|
|
Elin opened the bag and pulled out a strange-looking piece of
|
|
stone. Everyone gathered around to stare at it. It was wedge-shaped,
|
|
about a foot from almost-point to arced base. It looked like it was an
|
|
eighth, or maybe a sixth, of something large and circular that was
|
|
thicker in the middle. One of the two large surfaces was perfectly
|
|
smooth, while the other bore a carving of a falcon and inlaid silver,
|
|
glass, and gold bands crisscrossing and interlacing in the area above
|
|
the carving. The design was incomplete, as the bands were broken across
|
|
the jagged wedge-edges. One band of glass seemed to originate from a
|
|
large mass of glass in the center of the falcon image.
|
|
Thanj looked at the stone, commented, "How pretty ... sort of," and
|
|
left to join the rest of the Troupe setting up the camp.
|
|
The remaining four just stared at the stone. All of them reached
|
|
for it at the same moment, but three just touched it delicately with
|
|
their fingers. Elin first touched the carved falcon, tracing its outline
|
|
for several moments. Then she grasped the stone, held it, and lifted it,
|
|
holding it up and staring at it. Kend, Orla and Naka gathered close
|
|
around her, looking at it with her. Orla said, "What is it?"
|
|
"Important," was the only answer that Elin could come up with, but
|
|
everyone knew that she was right. She picked up the bag and returned the
|
|
fragment to it. No one objected to her claiming the object -- that was
|
|
as right as the previous answer.
|
|
Elin slipped the bag onto her belt, and went to kneel by the side
|
|
of the occupied bunk. "Thank you, fellow traveler, for bringing this
|
|
object to us," she said.
|
|
Kend said, "We will need to bury this one, so that the animals
|
|
don't defile the remains any further. And then, this way-cabin needs to
|
|
be cleaned up somewhat. I wonder how long it has been since anyone has
|
|
been this way? And I still wonder how we happened to be passing this way
|
|
ourselves."
|
|
|
|
A few days after the dismissal of Fessim, the vault room was full
|
|
of students and silence. Zarilt sat by the stone altar and watched as
|
|
most of his student body meditated. Attendance was not mandatory, yet
|
|
all but a double handful of his students were here. Those who were not
|
|
were attending to duties that could not be put off.
|
|
Some of his students claimed that it was easier to meditate when
|
|
everyone else was doing it too. Zarilt thought that was probably true
|
|
for them, but he hoped that someday, if their meditation bore the fruit
|
|
it was intended to, they would find meditating alone just as rewarding
|
|
as that done during the common meditation time.
|
|
Zarilt, who was able to meditate in the middle of the most crowded
|
|
and noisy room, or even while holding a conversation with several
|
|
people, found it restful to meditate with his students. There was
|
|
something about the rhythm of the breathing of so many people, that
|
|
started out sounding like the rumbling of an animal but which slowly
|
|
changed to become a series of rises and falls as groups of people began
|
|
to breathe in rhythm. It had only happened a few times that the entire
|
|
room managed to get into synchronization, but those few times Zarilt had
|
|
been almost overwhelmed by the energy of that union, the oneness of
|
|
everyone being together. He never tried to direct his students into that
|
|
state, knowing that it was better if they found it naturally.
|
|
Suddenly, the silence full of rhythmic breathing was shattered by
|
|
the door of the vault slamming open. A student named Millip ran into the
|
|
room, shouting, "Tchad! Tchad! He's coming! He's coming!"
|
|
The formerly-meditating students sat or stood up and started
|
|
jabbering in confusion as Millip continued shouting his message as he
|
|
ran right up to Zarilt and stopped, panting, fear plain on his face.
|
|
Zarilt said, "Silence, everyone, please!" His students quieted
|
|
after a few repetitions of his command, and he continued, "Now tell me,
|
|
Millip, why have you interrupted our meditation? Take your time, tell it
|
|
slowly."
|
|
Millip nodded, and took a deep breath. Then, he said, "I ... I was
|
|
waiting for the delivery from 'Rock, and finally Lirkal shows up with
|
|
the wagon but more important, he's got news. He says a troubadour who
|
|
was traveling through 'Rock from the south gave it them direct. Bad
|
|
news, real bad.
|
|
"Lirkal says that there's an army growing in Drigalit, working to
|
|
unite Farevlin by conquest. They've had some success with some small
|
|
border states to the west, and now they're coming here. Their leader,
|
|
Warlord Adamik, wants something from here and intends to get it."
|
|
A chaos of noise erupted again as students started shouting
|
|
questions and comments, letting their fear out and calling on their
|
|
teacher to help them, save them.
|
|
When Zarilt finally quieted them again, he said, "Please, my
|
|
students, please control yourselves. You have nothing to fear. This
|
|
warlord has no reason to hurt any of us. It is not for you or I to
|
|
surrender the treasures stored here, and he knows that. No one need fear
|
|
a thing."
|
|
Noise erupted again, but Zarilt's raised hand quieted them quickly.
|
|
Instead of calling out, several students came to the front of the crowd
|
|
and stood with their hands clasped in front of them, looking to their
|
|
Tchad. Zarilt gestured to one, and that one bowed his head and spoke.
|
|
"Tchad, do you know this Warlord Adamik? Do you know what he seeks
|
|
here?"
|
|
"Adamik was once one of my students, like you. And like you, he
|
|
knows what is sheltered here in the Treasury. If his aim is, as Millip
|
|
has relayed to us, the unifying of Farevlin by conquest, then I surmise
|
|
that he wishes to take possession of Hekorivas, the Scepter of Unity."
|
|
The student nodded, a thoughtful look in his eye, and then faded
|
|
back into the crowd. Zarilt gestured to another of the front-standing
|
|
students. She inclined her head in a bow and lifted it again, then said,
|
|
"Should we not seek to prevent this warlord's entry to the Treasury? Is
|
|
that not your duty? There are many of us, and this place is, by accident
|
|
or design, like a fortress."
|
|
Zarilt shook his head sadly, and replied, "I do not doubt the
|
|
resolve, nor the possible prowess of you my students, nor do I lightly
|
|
refuse your help in the upholding of my duty. But, my students, combat
|
|
is not part of the simplicity of the Way. You cannot achieve serenity by
|
|
destroying others. The position of Treasurer is almost wholly
|
|
ceremonial, else why entrust the job to only one? The treasures are
|
|
protected, never fear."
|
|
Zarilt's calm, steady voice and confident demeanor served to
|
|
communicate the same to his students. Several of the front-standing
|
|
students melted back into the crowd without asking any questions,
|
|
relieved by what they had heard. Zarilt nodded to one who remained. That
|
|
one, Virrila, responded as had the other two, and spoke.
|
|
"Tchad, your pardon, but if the treasures are protected, would it
|
|
not be better to leave? To find refuge for a time in Bluebell Rock,
|
|
until Warlord Adamik has time to realize that his plans here are
|
|
futile?"
|
|
Zarilt was silent for a moment, pondering his reply. Finally, he
|
|
said, "Flight is also not of the Way. You cannot find serenity while
|
|
fleeing every possible danger, nor do you need to flee once you have
|
|
found that serenity.
|
|
"However, if any of you, my students, feel that Bluebell Rock would
|
|
be safer than the Treasury during the incursion of the Warlord Adamik,
|
|
you must act on that feeling. Go, if you wish, and return when you feel
|
|
the danger is past. I shall understand."
|
|
Virrila nodded, and retreated a few steps into the crowd. Zarilt
|
|
gestured for another student to speak, while Virrila faded farther and
|
|
farther back. She looked around as she moved, and saw that every single
|
|
one of the other students was staring raptly at the Tchad, caught up in
|
|
his confidence and serenity.
|
|
She reached the back of the crowd, and listened for a short while
|
|
longer as Tchad Zarilt soothed his students' fears and bolstered their
|
|
resolve. Virrila wasn't convinced. She remembered Adamik from his time
|
|
as a student. He knew the Treasury, and he knew the treasures were
|
|
protected. He had to have a plan, one that the Tchad's 'serenity' wasn't
|
|
going to stop. She knew that Tchad Zarilt needed help; they *all* needed
|
|
help. Since no one else thought so, she decided to be the one to fetch
|
|
it.
|
|
She noticed Millip near the back of the crowd, and sidled over to
|
|
him. "Millip, how long did Lirkal say it might be until the warlord
|
|
arrives?"
|
|
Millip took a moment to register Virrila's question, then turned
|
|
distractedly, tearing himself away from his former concentration on the
|
|
Tchad. "Ah ... what? Oh, yes ... The warlord was ... um, only a few days
|
|
away. Maybe half a sennight. Why?"
|
|
"No reason, no reason," Virrila said, but Millip didn't even hear
|
|
her. She shook her head, then turned and walked out of the vault. She
|
|
didn't know where she was going to get help from that fast, but she was
|
|
going to try.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
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|
|