Millennium Myths

Acrabha Stone: Blessing and Curse: By J. Elias Epp Chapter 3 The blue morning sky slowly warmed as Rylen exercised on the third floor of his father’s Inn. He moved slowly but surely, keeping his footing wide as he’d been taught, striking, and then following with a kick. He felt the chill air bite as he practiced, as if it were upset he was moving this early in the morning. He had removed the wall panels on three sides of the room so he could watch the rising sun. The air had chilled him at first, but his body had heated quickly and the cool air became a welcome feeling. The burn of his muscle and the chill of the breeze on his skin woke his sleepy senses. The morning was just bright enough to see the vague shape of things. The towers of the wealthy stood black against the morning sky, yet were dwarfed by the dark mountains on both sides of the valley. The snowy peaks were barely visible. Kick, strike, strike, knee, elbow, elbow. He let his body move into what felt most natural and smooth. He carried the momentum of his attacks, pressing forward across the floor until he reached the cool balcony railing. Then, he would turn and strike back towards the stone center of the Inn. The chimney warmed him as he neared it. Rylen stopped his strikes and started drilling with a wood replica of his father’s sword. It felt heavy after his exercises but its balance tamed his fatigue. The sword made a quiet swishing sound as he swung it through the air. He switched hands, from his right to his left, and drilled with that arm too. He wasn’t quite as deft with his left, but the repetition of the drills was smoothing out the awkwardness. The light grew in the sky. The blue of morning was soon replaced with the purples and oranges of the rising sun. The Inn was situated on the western side of a gently sloping hill. At the top of the hill was a small temple for the King. Even with the sun not fully risen, its gilded roof reflected the dark sky. The gardens surrounding the temple extended all along the ridge of the hill, from almost one side of the valley to the other. The Inn was just high enough that Rylen could see the tops of some of the buildings on the east side of the hill. The gold leaf upon those rooftops stood out from among the shadows of morning. Beyond these buildings, a few hundred yards beyond the foot of the hill, the valley ended abruptly in a cliff. From the third story where Rylen was at, he could see the first rays of sun outlining the horizon and blazing the clouds with color. Rylen could remember when he could look out from the Inn and see the dawn-lit horizon unbroken. Now, the tower of a wealthy merchant shadowed half of the Inn from the light. Any building not over three stories high was usually steeped in shadow on the hill’s west side until an hour after dawn. Other towers had been built near the summit as if competing with each other for height and sunlight. Rylen struck, slashed and jabbed with his sword back and forth across the floor. He felt the movements that needed improvement and moved slower until he got them right before speeding up again. He repeated each drill at least ten times before moving to the next. The first drills were easy. He could perform them the quickest, but he had to pay attention to their forms the most. Back and forth from the railing to chimney he went. Upon reaching the railing for the hundredth time, he saw the first ray of sun strike the top of Night’s Eye, the massive watchtower that stood upon the easternmost mountain. This would be the only time its dull grey stone would be colored so brightly the whole day. The tower was so tall that some nights Rylen swore he’d be able to touch the moon if he stood atop that tower. That, or he’d be skewered on it. Compared to the broad mountain it was perched on, the tower looked skinny and frail. The sun striking Night’s Eye was Rylen’s signal to cease for the morning. As if on cue, there was the click and a clack as Pahanna unlocked the Inn’s side door to begin prepping food for breakfast. Rylen let out a controlled breath and relaxed himself. He quickly put the wall panels back up and the chill in the room soon vanished. Once he had finished, he made his way downstairs. The stone center of the Inn had the chimney leading up one side of it but also housed the stairs from one floor to another. Rylen took the stairs quietly and paused for just a moment by the second floor door where the Inn’s sleeping quarters were. It was still quiet there. He smiled to himself. I didn’t wake anyone this time while doing my exercises. Usually, if he did, he would pass it off as part of preparing the Inn for the morning. He stepped down to the first floor just as Pahanna started chopping vegetables. “Hey Rylie!” Pahanna said cheerfully as Rylen entered the room. Pahanna was standing on a chair near the counter, throwing what he cut into a pot set over the fire. Rylen went over to the wash basin and splashed his face with water, then he quickly tied back his black hair with a string. “How are you this morning?” He asked the younger boy. He peeked into the pot of stew Pahanna was making on his way past and smelled its aroma. Pahanna smiled at Rylen. “I got an extra potato from Canta today.” Rylen stopped and backtracked. He narrowed his eyes and pinched Pahanna’s check. “You didn’t steal it this time, did you? I don’t want to feed customers stolen loot like last time.” Pahanna smiled a loopy smile with Rylen pulling at his cheek. “Sthat was a pirate stew sthat time.” Rylen raised an eyebrow. “And what is our stew today?” Pahanna laughed and pulled away from Rylen’s grasp. Rylen let him go and Pahanna turned back to the pot and started stirring it. “I haven’t decided yet.” Rylen tousled Pahanna’s ash-brown hair. “No bugs this time.” He turned to go. “Rylie.” “Yes?” “Your daddy wrote today’s notes in Temaman again and I can’t read it.” “Oh, so that’s why you’re making your special stew today. And that’s Telamian, not Temaman.” Pahanna smiled. “Qasee and Jak like my special stews.” Rylen shook his head and went over to where Pahanna had taken out the notes. “I’d like to see the food Qasee and Jak would turn down.” His father’s notes had been quickly scribbled down in the Telamian language. For breakfast on Falday the notes had actually called for fresh bread, tea and cream. Of course, if customers requested beer, they could have that too. Preparing the cream and bread would have taken some time to prepare, much more so than a simple stew. Rylen could still make the bread and cream, but this could give Rylen some time to do some final work on their stores instead. Besides, Leyla should be in this morning. He reached up and pulled another book off the shelf above the kitchen counter. He flipped to the back and looked over the list of stores. He checked off those items he had already made room for in the cupboards, pantry and cellar. A rapid clopping of hooves grew in loudness then quickly passed. That would be the morning messenger from Night’s Eye. Honestly, Rylen didn’t know why they were always in a hurry. If they needed to get to the capital by a certain time, they should leave earlier instead of scaring and waking the townspeople. However, he would be curious to know what kind of things they had to report. Rylen double-checked the list, then set about opening cupboards and rearranging the spices to make more room for the new ones that would be coming back with his father. He descended into the cellar that had been hewn out of the rock the Inn was built on. When his father had built the Inn, he laid its foundation on the only rock showing itself above the topsoil of the hill. He’d had the liberty of such a choice because the Inn had been the first building built in the valley after the last town had been devastated by Ara-Era’s attempt to invade. The Inn was the only building of its kind in the town of Edge. Most of the buildings surrounding it were one-story and made of large logs. The Inn’s base and inner core was made of stone. Its walls and roof had been fashioned with cut and shaped timber. The Inn’s first floor was larger than the second, and the second was larger than the third. Each floor had a balcony around its edge and a roof to cover it. The first floor had solid walls that made up its rooms, but the second and third’s walls were made of lightweight removable panels. The layout of the top two floors could be changed with just a little work. Rylen grunted as he moved a bag of flour, then turned around in the small space of the cellar to move the jars of honey into a line. A trilling whistle caught Rylen’s ear and he stopped what he was doing. Its sound was as light and clear as the song of birds yet carried the softness of flutes. Rylen grinned and jumped back up the cellar steps. He still had to reorganize the grain, corn, onions, dried meats, beans, squash, dried tomato, and peppers. He didn’t like messing with the dried peppers, they always stung his nose with their scent when he moved them. The trilling song rounded the corner of the Inn and stopped at the back door. The rapity-tapity-tap-tap upon the door punctuated the song’s final notes. Rylen set the ledger down and threw the latch. “Gooooood morning!” Leyla said, her smile as bright as midday. She hugged Rylen lightly but warmly then quickly stepped inside. “I’ve come to help again today. I have till after breakfast before I have to get back to the temple, you’ll be on your own after that.” She untied her copper blonde hair and put an apron over her yellow priestess robes. Rylen picked the ledger up again. “Did your mom get the stain out from yesterday?” “I told you not to worry about that. Its fine, it’ll be fine.” She smiled and waved a hand dismissively at him. She started stirring the coals in the stone oven and added wood, then quickly started to make dough. “I can’t believe you Pan, were you really planning on only serving them stew?!” “They like my stew!” “And bread makes it better! Especially with butter!” Pahanna stuck his tongue out at her. Rylen turned and quietly tried to sneak down the steps. “Ohoho! Don’t think you can sneak away. You’re just as responsible.” Rylen turned halfway down the steps and put a hand to his chest. “Who? Me?” He rapped the ledger with his knuckles and took on a haughty air to his voice as he turned up his nose. “I have to insure the wares you two so carelessly use don’t run out. I’m off to conduct business in the cellar. Be sure not to make a mess.” He turned and stiffly descended the stairs. Leyla smiled, “Hah! That man! Pan, we shan’t let him bully us! We can walk out and leave him! He’s nothing without us! You, you…” she shook her finger ineffectively in Rylen’s direction. Pahanna just grinned. He was enjoying the banter, but didn’t know how to play along. “You’ll be no better than rats without a cellar if you leave me,” Rylen called up the stairs, “you’ll come crawling back for crumbs!” He checked the ledger and moved the bags of beans to one side. He heard a distinct whisper from Leyla, and both she and Pahanna laughed. “Get back to work, cretins!” He yelled. More whispering, this time Pahanna, and they broke into laughter again. Rylen shook his head and set himself to arranging the cellar. He moved all of the ale barrels forward except for two of them. Those two his father was letting age as they were from batches that had tasted exceptionally good. However, Rylen didn’t know why he kept the oldest one. The one that was nearly as old as Rylen was. That crop, the first to be grown since Ara-Era’s invasion into the valley of Edge, was known as “blood grain”. Bodies left from the battles there had to be cleared away before any plowing could be done. Rylen didn’t know of any person who would willingly partake in such ale. It felt like they were hiding something illegal in the cellar. “So, what are you doing exactly?” Rylen jumped and spun around as he stepped backward. However, he stepped right back into the barrel of wine he had been moving and fell over it against the shelving. He winced. Leyla held her hand to her mouth, trying to suppress laughter. “Are, are you ok? I’m sorry. I really do feel bad.” She offered out her hand to Rylen. Rylen felt the back of his throbbing head and took her hand. She had to squat down and use her body weight to pull him up. “Are you really going to be alright?” She patted his arm. “Leyla, you really have to say something when coming up behind someone.” “I know, I know, it’s a bad habit of mine. Um, but I did say something.” “You waited until you were directly behind me.” Leyla clasped her hands. “I really feel bad. You’re going to be alright?” Rylen rolled his head and winced. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He turned and pushed the wine barrel into place by shoving it with his foot. Leyla had a bad habit of smiling. Even now, she was smiling as she said she felt bad. It was the same if she was annoyed or angry. She just couldn’t stop smiling. He patted her shoulder with the hand that wasn’t holding his head. “I’m alright, I was almost done anyway.” Together they stepped up the stairs into the kitchen and finished preparing for breakfast. Rylen helped prepare the bread into smaller loaves so it would cook faster, then had to go open the doors. A few farmers were already waiting outside the back door, so he opened that one first. They took their seats as he opened the front door. The Inn’s seating areas were unofficially separated by class. Farmers and general laborers generally entered by the back door and sat in the back of the Inn. In the middle of the Inn was the kitchen and storerooms. There was minimal seating at the sides of the kitchen, then there was the seating at the front of the Inn. This is where travelers, merchants and other “fine folk” would enter the Inn. In all, the Inn could seat about sixty patrons comfortably. “Leyla, could you serve the front of the Inn today?” “Are you sure it isn’t because you don’t want to?” Rylen smiled. “I feel like you deal with those kind of people better.” Leyla smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I deal with all kinds of people better than you. Besides, I always serve the front. I want to serve the fun people today.” Rylen pursed his lip. She wasn’t making it easy today. Sensing her victory, she promptly skipped out of the kitchen to take the farmer’s orders before Rylen could come up with a retort. Pahanna just smiled and stirred his big pot of stew. Rylen glowered at him. “What are you smiling at?” Pahanna glanced at him and shrugged his little shoulders. “Aha!” Cried one of the farmers. “We get Leyla today boys! Rylen stopped hiding her from us with his ugly mug!” “Who said that?!” Rylen yelled. He poked his head out of the kitchen door. “Kaden!” The man in question ducked his head. The others laughed. Rylen couldn’t help smiling. The morning went quickly after that. The guests that were still sleeping upstairs soon woke and came down the stairs through the kitchen. Rylen worked around them as best he could. The rear of the Inn soon grew loud and noisy as all the regular laborers met up for the morning. The front of the Inn was more subdued. Travelers who didn’t know anyone kept to themselves. A few merchants who came every now and then were gathered around a table in the corner. Rylen didn’t know why some of the upper crust of society came at all. The Inn was well known, yes. It had been the first building, served as the first town hall, an infirmary and many other things in the past. Among other buildings it looked unique. They didn’t serve interesting food either. Rylen’s only guess was that the Inn had a certain, “broken in” feeling to it most of the other Inns and bars didn’t have as they were much newer. Most of the town’s growth had only happened in the last ten years. For some reason, it became the next place for the nobles and wealthy to show off their money and power. It also became a place of pilgrimage for those wanting to worship the King. Edge was the only place within the Gwyanian mountains where a person could see the sun rise over the horizon without climbing to a mountaintop. The Inn used to serve the occasional traveler, but now there seemed to be someone new every day. Rylen was walking amongst the tables collecting dishes for Pahanna to wash when a traveler’s story caught his ear. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. A flying city of the Jain. Saw it ten years ago, in fact. Another one is supposed to come real soon if they’re running on time. Rumor is it’s supposed to be one the grandest of them all, like the capital of a country they say. Its beams are gilded with gold leaf and it’ll bring the most treasure for trading that Acrabha has seen in a century!” “What?” Another traveler piped up next to him. “Acrabha sees the treasures of all the nations along the Arnaw. How is one flying ship, even a city of the Jain, going to match that?” “They come through the Blue from beyond the Great Mountains. We hardly see those kind of people, much less their wares. That makes them that much more valuable if you ask me.” “You said one is supposed to be coming soon?” Rylen cut in. The first traveler looked up at Rylen. He was a man who looked like he belonged behind a desk and not on the back of a horse. His clothes were bordered with gold thread. He gave Rylen a guarded look, but answered anyway. “Well, yes. They usually come every ten years or so, which you should know, but Acrabha just received one of their heralds. They shouldn’t be much farther out than a few months. Ever seen one?” Rylen shook his head. “No, but I really hope to someday.” The man smiled and held out his empty mug. “I’m sure you’ll see it one day.” Rylen took the mug and his already full arms of plates and cups to where Pahanna was cleaning them. The way the man had said, “I’m sure you’ll see it one day” was like he was consoling a child with a lie. *** Kali smacked Sada’s arm, making him jump. “What?!” “Quit looking at the woman and not her wares. Besides, we need to be finding Miss Wida.” The woman behind the stand blushed. Sada walked away in a huff and Kali followed. When Kali had caught up, Sada turned to him. “You’re always ruining my fun. I think she was taking a liking to me too.” “More like I saved your sorry arse. You obviously were too busy ogling at her to notice her husband.” “I coulda taken him on.” “He was carrying an anvil in each hand.” Sada rubbed his belly. “He woulda bounced off. Miss Wida’s this way, right?” “We better have something to report to the general. I don’t think he liked us.” Sada patted a sword at his side. “At least we get to carry these.” They arrived at Miss Wida’s Inn and she immediately waved them over to the bar. “Well, how are you honeys?! I don’t get to see you two often enough!” She gave both of them a hug. “Here, have something to drink. You two look famished! Walking all the way from the gate! You two shouldn’t work so hard. Here, have some bread and honey too.” Kali wiped the sweat from his brow. He was big-boned and not as chubby as Sada, but he didn’t see any more exercise than his wider friend. He accepted his drink with a nod and took the sizable piece of bread. “We’ve been working so hard they’ve given us a special task. We have to find the ole’ bumble-dum drunkard. Seems he’s caused a bit of trouble and hurt some folk.” Miss Wida gasped. “No! You don’t say! That sweet thing!” Miss Wida wasn’t much thinner than either of the guards herself. However, she moved about quickly with decades of experience serving every type of ruffian. Sada burped. “Yeah, general seemed quite earnest to find the guy. He –” Kali punched him in the belly, making the flabs jiggle. Sada didn’t even flinch and looked up at Kali questioningly. Realization dawned on him and he clasped his hand over his mouth. Miss Wida deftly sliced another piece of bread and spread a healthy portion of honey on it. “Oh? The general you say? How curious.” She winked at them. “Don’t worry boys, I won’t tell a soul. If you’re looking for ole’ bumble-dum, he ain’t here.” “Well, we coulda guessed that.” Sada said. He eyed the honeyed bread as she took a bite of it. “He doesn’t stick around.” “I’ve heard he’s been seen as far as the outskirts of town,” Miss Wida continued, “on the road up to the northern valleys. All I know is he walks back down the main thoroughfare once he wakes up. You might try asking some more merchants along the way if they know more about him. He doesn’t seem like he’s from the city though.” Sada made a confused face and looked at Kali. “He lives in another town? But, no, he lives in the country? And he comes into town to get drunk?” “No, he leaves town to come back into it so he can go out to come back in.” Kali smacked the back of Sada’s head. Sada blinked as he tried to figure out what Kali had just said. “You know anything else?” Kali asked. Miss Wida shook her head and shrugged. “He talks and mumbles in his sleep. Things about shadows, home, curses…” She shrugged. “So, you were saying something about the general?” Sada opened his mouth. “If that’s all ya know Miss Wida we’ll be going.” Kali cut in. Miss Wida gave them a broad grin. “Come back anytime boys.” Kali turned and sauntered out of the Inn. Sada lingered and reached out a hand to take another slice of honeyed bread. Miss Wida smacked his hand. “Get on you.” Sada held his hand looking hurt and walked out the door with Kali and on down the thoroughfare.

End

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Acrabha Stone: Blessing and Curse: By J. Elias Epp Chapter 2 Prince Bardulla Daum took a sip from his steaming drink and looked over the gardens in the twilight. It was Mocday, the end of the beginning of another week. Nobles with their retinues were making their way back to their homes. Their far-off laughter echoed off the stone palace tower behind him. Crystal lamps dotted the paths and their light sparkled off the clothes of the noblemen. Some areas were left in darkness though. One such area was where Bardulla was standing. In fact, most of the gardens surrounding the Tower of Daum were dark. He could still remember the days when the centuries-old trees were lit by lamps from beneath. The Gardens of Daum had merit as gardens then. They were beautiful to behold in both the day and the night. But now, though they still retained their beauty in the day, one could only walk beneath their limbs in darkness. At night, the old trees took on sinister forms and no one ventured into them unless it was mid-day. Bardulla took another sip from his drink. He liked the darkness and how it surrounded him. He was in a spot on the hill leading up to his palace tower. Here he could look out over the brightly lit King’s Gardens and no one was the wiser. The dark trees were all around him and their branches reached out over his head. A critter stirred in the underbrush and Bardulla’s head whipped around at the noise. He stood still. The critter started moving again. It was just a mouse. Bardulla let out a breath and nursed his drink. An owl hooted above and flew over the moon. Bardulla let his gaze look there for a moment, then followed the lines of the steep mountains sides of the valley. A cloud was spilling over the top of one of them like a waterfall. “Prince.” Bardulla jerked away from the voice and spilled some of the drink on his sleeve. “Black crowns! Harbiya, it creeps me out how you sneak up on me all the time. You need to stop. Really. Especially when it’s dark out.” He set his drink down on a mossy stone wall next to him and brushed the drink off him. “Eh heh heh. Honestly, I don’t do it on purpose.” A man stepped out of the deep shadow of a tree and into moonlight. His clothing glittered with inset gems. “It’s probably from all my days as a pauper on the street, y’know?” “That’s ‘you know.’ If you’re going to be a lord, you need to act and speak like one. I wouldn’t have put that at the end of my sentence in the first place.” “Eh heh, heh. I suppose.” He scratched the back of his head. “I likely won’t be a lord much longer. Kacium and Fehued want to put Telun in my place. They’re still having trouble with Ellin though.” Bardulla glanced at what was left in his cup and took a drink. “Mmmhmm.” Harbiya sniffed, “Is that…what is that?” “Fatif with a touch of red wine.” “Oh, that bitter and sour drink.” “With a touch of sweetness and its combination of aromatic seasonings, this drink is made for nights like this. There is still the warmth of summer in the air, but the breeze carries the smell and chill of winter from the mountains.” “Yeah, uh, I’ll just stick with my raloni smilers.” “Tsk, a commoner’s drink.” “Yet, even the King’s storerooms don’t have anything like it.” “You’re right, they have drinks of far better quality.” Harbiya shook his head. “So, why am I here again?” Bardulla coughed. “What? Pardon, I was told you had something to tell me.” “Yes, but do you have something to offer me in return?” Harbiya shrugged. “I came to tell you I’d like to negotiate a deal.” Bardulla took another sip and glared at Harbiya over the rim. He set it down on the mossy wall. “Uncouth you are, but a fool you’re not. Tell me what you have to offer first before I decide to give you anything for it.” “A way to find the King’s desire.” Bardulla looked hard at Habiya’s face, trying to find any trace of a joke. The harsh shadows the moon cast on his features made it hard to read him. A patch of flowers nearby had closed up with the night. As the moon moved across the sky the flowers bloomed again in its shadow. During the day they were every kind of color, but at night its inner bulb bloomed white. ‘Night Blades’ were their name. What had caught Bardulla’s attention was one of them had bloomed red. A rarity. He reached for it. “Sire, I wouldn’t play that game if I were you.” Bardulla plucked the flower. “I don’t believe in such superstitions. Even if most commoners do.” He plucked one of the slim red petals. “I’m dead.” He plucked another one. “Dead I’m not.” Harbiya fidgeted. “It ain’t right.” “Do you know how long I’ve been searching for that?” “The flower?” “You know what I mean.” Harbiya opened his mouth. “My fiancé won’t even hold my hand anymore.” Harbiya closed his mouth and silently sighed. “I’ve been working in those cursed mines of the King’s, as a prince no less! I have callouses! The other princes too! I’ve gone into that…that…” Bardulla shuddered, “that black hell.” Harbiya glanced at the movement of the moon and nodded. “His only son from the queen dies and what does he do? He wages war against Ara-Era in his grief. We push them to their doorstep! We could have taken their capital!” He plucked at the flower in agitation. Harbiya didn’t mention that Bardulla had only been a little babe when that war started and ended. He sniffed in disdain and instantly regretted it. The bitter smell of Bardulla’s fatif mixed with the smells of moss and wet stone around them. He watched and counted the petals that Bardulla picked. Dead. Dead he’s not. Dead. Dead he’s not. Dead. Bardulla continued. “What does he do? He withdraws as they simper for peace. We didn’t even take carts of treasure back with us as payment! We got nothing! He gets back and nothing happens! He just sits on his great throne and ignores his children. We’re his children! Just because our mothers are concubines doesn’t make us any less!” He waved the flower in Harbiya’s face. “Then what happens? When all of us princes are practically begging him to announce a new favored son? He declares that if we are to find favor with him, we’re to go and find a stone like the one on his crown in the very place that became his son’s tomb!” Bardulla paced and motioned with his arms. “So what do we do?! We work like common laborers and get nothing for it! Absolutely nothing! Lowas went crazy because of it. Apertan died, though I can’t say I miss him, and what do we get? Nothing! He just sits impatiently waiting! I saw it for what it was! A hoax! That’s why I stopped. The others are fools to keep looking for such a stone.” “So what are you going to do?” Harbiya cut in. “Keep complaining?” Bardulla looked sharply at him. Muffled voices reached them from the gardens. Two figures meandered their way through the paths. Dead he’s not. Dead. “Eh heh heh. Forgive my rudeness, prince. I just have something to help your position. If you won’t accept my aid, I’ll go to another prince who will.” “Hmph. What do you want for offering your aid?” The cold moonlight glinted in Harbiya’s eyes. “I’d like the hand of your sister in marriage, and, should you come into the position of King, a place by your side.” Bardulla stared at Harbiya incredulously, then, realizing that Harbiya was being serious, he picked his drink up and took a swig of it. He cleared his throat. “Harbiya, I know I’m the head of my family now, but…your request is…” “Too much? Too much for the Daum family’s line a chance to become the royal one? Hmph, you value your family very highly. I guess choosing you wasn’t right after all.” He turned to go. “I’m sorry to –” “Wait!” Harbiya stopped. Bardulla’s face betrayed his conflicting emotions. “I just…I’ll have to speak with my elders. Using family as political bartering chips is…touchy business. A person has a tendency to make one powerful ally and a crowd of enemies no matter which way you go about it.” Dead he’s not – Dead – Dead he’s not Harbiya’s smile glowed in the moonlight. A flash of annoyance crossed Bardulla’s face before he concealed it. He had recovered control after the initial surprise. His face was calm, disinterested, and haughty. “So, what kind of enlightening information do you have to reveal what the King’s true desire is? He’s been mooning about like a lovesick child for the past ten years. The queen knows less than anyone else…” He raised an eyebrow. Harbiya tapped the side of his nose. “Those who stop looking will never find what is lost. A platoon of royal guardsmen have been training in secret for years now. Do you know what for? Convoy protection. The captain reports directly to the King.” “Oh?” Bardulla plucked at the flower. Dead. Dead I’m not. “So the King is paranoid. What of it?” Harbiya shook his head. “It could be that, true, but I have a feeling it is something else. Something was gained from the King’s talks with the Ara-Erians. He isn’t the kind of man to back off before he gets what he wants.” Bardulla stopped plucking. “Then why isn’t he satisfied? Why does he have the princes of all things working in mines?!” Harbiya shrugged. “To make fools out of the lot of you?” He cleared his throat. “My pardons, prince. I think it is because he has hidden whatever he gained somewhere. Remember…oh, that’s right, you were just a babe then. There was…” He waved his hand abstractly, “…political unrest after the King returned from the war. I’m sure he wanted to see who he could trust before bringing out his prize.” Bardulla shook his head. “It still doesn’t warrant me giving my sister to a street cretin like you who won the title of ‘Lord’ by inheritance.” Harbiya shrugged. “The platoon is making ready to leave.” He searched Bardulla’s face. “It would be interesting to see where it goes.” Bardulla smiled. “So, if this turns out, you get to marry into royal bloodline and improve your station. What’s in it for me?” Dead. Dead I’m not. Dead. “You get the King’s Desire, and, well, your sad state of finances might receive a healthy sum from my coffers as well.” Harbiya raised an eyebrow. “The King doesn’t have a direct son or daughter. Of all the sons, you are chief among them. I’m surprised the Daums allowed you to return to the family, especially as the head. Your mothe –” “Don’t speak of her.” Harbiya shrugged and nodded. “Guess they didn’t have a choice.” Bardulla stopped picking at the flower and tapped his fingers on the stone wall in thought. “I have to go to Edge on business this week. Will the platoon leave before then?” “No. Not for some time I think. Will it be your first viewing?” Bardulla rolled his eyes. “I’ve looked over that dusty cliff too many times. It’s my coming-of-age ceremony. My grandfather worships his traditions nearly as much as he does the King. More importantly, I have to meet with the governor there.” “Ah, I see. Night’s Eye.” Harbiya looked at Bardulla. “So, do we have an agreement?” Bardulla squinted at Harbiya and thought for a few moments. “Harbiya, how do we know the King’s Desire is a thing that must be protected? He could simply be –” he looked around himself, as if searching the shadows would reveal an eavesdropper. He lowered his voice, “he could be playing at political games.” “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Bardulla, to accuse the King of such a thing. It just isn’t done.” Bardulla scowled. “Neither is making princes work like laborers.” The two were silent for a moment. A frog croaked somewhere near a pond. Bugs glowed, flying through the air. They slowly lost their light and disappeared only to show up again as their light rekindled. “Hmm,” Harbiya mumbled, “he could legitimately be looking for another stone like the one on his crown.” “What?” Harbiya waved Bardulla’s question away. “Never mind, there are only two like them and the prince has the other.” “Oh. Good luck finding the prince. You’ll just as soon find whatever killed him too.” Bardulla downed the rest of his drink. “Whether it be demons, monsters or the incarnation of evil itself,” he mumbled. He savored the last drops then looked into his empty cup. There were only a couple more glasses worth of the drink left in his family’s storerooms. The others had been sold. “If this thing turns out to be the King’s Desire…then you have a deal. I feel if we find out what this thing is, we’ll find the way to win ourselves the crown.” Harbiya’s teeth glowed in the moonlight. “Then it’s a deal.” He turned, and without another word, walked away. Bardulla’s eyes bored into Harbiya’s back as he was lost in the inky blackness beneath the ancient forest. He waited a couple of minutes, then held his hand up. Immediately, the form of a man clad in dark clothing stepped from the shadows and bowed. “Keep a watch upon him.” Bardulla said. “He’ll double-cross me in the moment I’m most vulnerable and has gained what he needs.” The man bowed low and stole quietly into the forest. Bardulla finished plucking at the flower. *** The man in dark stole through the forest, silent, no more than a glimpse of a shadow, like the flight of a black owl. The few gaps of light that could be seen through the trunks blinked with Harbiya’s passing. The man caught up with him and crept slowly. Harbiya stopped in the shadow of a tree. “Halah.” The dark form spoke. “Yes?” “Tell me, what petal did Bardulla end on?” “Dead.” There was silence in the darkness. An owl silently flew by them, unknowing of their presence. “And they wonder why I believe in superstitions.” *** Two guardsmen sat uneasily across from their Captain as he read a report with an impassive countenance. A single crystal lit the room and cast a shadow upon the Captain’s smooth face. A light brown beard followed his stern jaw and ended at his chin. One of the guardsmen rubbed two silver coins together with his fingers. The other sat still and twiddled his thumbs. “Sada.” “Yes, sir!” The Captain pointed without looking up from the report. “If you don’t stop that now, I’ll have you give me those coins as payment for grating my ears.” “Yes...sir.” Sada put the two coins in his pocket. After a moment, he started tapping his foot on the stone floor. The Captain gave a small sigh and finished reading the report. He set the paper down and looked at his two guardsmen. “So, what you’re telling me is you let our prime suspect get away.” “Aw, Cap, we didn’t know he was going to be a suspect!” “Kali, call me sir.” Kali raised an eyebrow. “Now, I’ll tell auntie ya said that.” The Captain rolled his eyes and shuffled his papers together. “I have a bunch of grievously wounded muggers and a general who wants to know who did it. We’ve searched the city for the last two days and haven’t found a clue except that you two have seen him on occasion. This happened the night of Mocday. It is the morning of Falday now. The general is growing impatient for a report.” “Oooh, who had to wake the general?” Sada said grimacing. The Captain looked at him. Sada stared blankly, then quickly straightened his back. “Sir! Who had to wake the general, Sir!” The Captain looked at his papers. “You say the man was near-dead?” “Well, he always comes like that, sir.” “Near-dead?” “Not near-dead, Cap,” Kali said, “more like he hasn’t had a wink of sleep in the past week.” He nudged Sada. “Just like us at the end of shift.” “How often does he come?” “Oh, about every, oh, month.” Kali shrugged. “Sir, he don’t know nothing. I win most of the bets. It’s more like every other month, sir.” Sada grinned proudly. The Captain rubbed his chin and looked out the window, thinking. “A drunkard walks through town and no one knows who he is. Then one day he beats down a whole gang of muggers and disappears.” “Usually, he just gets beat up…sir.” The Captain rubbed his eyes and sighed. “This whole time you’ve never helped him out?” “Of course we helped him out.” Kali said indignantly. “We help him get to Miss Wida’s when he doesn’t walk back himself.” “So, he just comes to the gates and then walks away again?” Kali shrugged. The Captain shifted through a few more papers, then looked back up at the two. “It’s still both of your faults for letting the man get away.” “Aw, Cap!” “Sir, ya can’t just, we didn’t know, sir.” “You both are well acquainted with this man, therefore, you two will be taking this investigation over until the man is found.” “But…Cap, that’s almost a demotion! Auntie-” “You two have been pampered as guards of the Tarawa pass for too long. I’m sure if I set you two side-by-side you could guard the gate with your paunches alone.” He looked at Kali and smirked. “Besides, this is more like a promotion, you’ll be reporting to the general directly for this assignment. Tell that to my mother.” “B-b-b-b-but sir,” Sada stammered. “Dismissed.” The two guards walked from the room complaining as the Captain took out paper, ink and quill. He didn’t like how the general was taking a personal interest in this. There was something about that man, or the men who had been injured that had caught the general’s notice. He himself hadn’t woken the general. He had thought the matter didn’t require it. Someone else had though. He began writing the letter of recommendation for Kali and Sada to the general. Esteemed General Jibri, I am sending to you two guardsmen who are well acquainted and knowledgeable with the man whom you seek. They know his face and looks and know the places the man haunts in Tayyra. As such, I have given them full discretion in this investigation concerning… When he was done, the Captain called for a messenger and sent the letter to the general.

End

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Rough Draft 2

The peaks threw their shadows upon the clouds in the setting sun. Hyrestl drug his feet through the town of Tayyra. The rattle of carts and voices of people came to his ears in a muffled mumble.

Someone called out to him. He looked that way by habit, but didn’t see anyone he knew in the crystal lights. He slouched and looked down at his sluggishly plodding feet.

All around him was the bustle of Tayyra’s main marketplace.  Horses and donkeys drawing carts passed him, the smell of horse dung mixed with the sharp scent of spiced meats and the softer smell of baking pastries. Someone bumped into his shoulder and he winced from the ache it sent through his whole body.

“Hey honey! Come on over here! You look like you need a bed to sleep on!”

Hyrestl wearily looked up at the voice. It was a woman. She smiled warmly as she took his arm.

“Dearie, you’re always so tired when you walk by here! Come in and rest! Look at you! Bangs under your eyes, lips bloody and chapped, you’re not young enough to be doing this to yourself!” She started pulling him towards her Inn.

“No,” he resisted, “I…I can’t. I have to get back.”

“Get back where? You can’t make it through Tarawa pass at this late of hour. Dearie please, come with me. You won’t have to pay anything.”[JE1] 

Hyrestl pulled his arm away. “No,” he stumbled backwards, “I have to get back.”

She called after him but he quickly shuffled away into the crowd. He passed under a large stone arch. Leaning against it was a giant, twice as tall as the people around him.

Hyrestl blinked. The giant was gone.

He shook his head and rubbed his tired eyes. He glanced behind him. People were all around him. They were only a hand span taller than he was and with lighter complexions. Giants didn’t walk these lands. Not like home.

An owl swooped silently over the crowd before flying up into the darkness again.

The hairs of his neck stood on end. He slowed in his step and scanned the crowd. Performers danced and sang to the delight of passerby, shoppers with baskets on their arms looked at every kind of ware from the far corners of the world. Crystal lamps shone brightly, warding off every shadow.

His attention was caught by a woman and child, smiling, making their way home. They came towards him. The child was a little girl, she caught sight of Hyrestl and waved.

Hyrestl smiled, his weariness faded from his limbs.

The town around him faded into darkness and sharp mountains covered in green rose to take the town’s place. The morning sun shone brightly. Terraces ran up the side of one of the mountains. On top of the mountain was a small village made of stone and thatch.

A little girl laughed and rushed towards him, arms outstretched. Hyrestl caught her and swung her up above his head before settling her in the crook of his arm. She hugged his neck and whispered in his ear, “I love you daddy.”

He kissed her cheek, “I love you too sweetie.”

A woman laughed and she pecked a kiss on his cheek “I made lemon cakes this morning,” she said. She hefted a young boy up onto her hip before he could run away.

Hyrestl kissed her back and followed her up the steps of the terrace and into the village. The smell of morning baking was carried to them by a humid morning breeze.

They passed into the village and into their home. They all sat down at the table, said their prayers and ate. The little girl bounced up and down as she ate her lemon cake. Suddenly, she dropped it and it fell to the floor. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Hyrestl stopped eating. “Yasi, I’ve told you to stop bouncing while you eat, now pick it up.”

“But, but...” Yasi sobbed.

Hyrestl set down his cake and put her in his lap. He gave her his half-eaten cake and she looked up at him with red teary eyes.

“Its okay, eat it.”

Yasi took a bite and smiled up at him.

Hyrestl brushed away her tears as she bounced on his leg.

He smiled across the table at his wife as she began talking about what needed to be done that day. Her soft voice mixed gently with the calls of birds outside.

After breakfast, he took his little boy out to the terraced fields. They walked together, the little boy holding onto his thumb and he holding the boy’s soft little hand.

“Outa my way!”

Hyrestl snapped his head up. The warm green mountains disappeared and were replaced by the bustling town of Tayyra again.

A man shoved past him and Hyrestl stumbled to regain his balance. His eyelids and limbs felt heavy.

He shuffled over to a horse’s trough and splashed his face. “I have to get back,” he mumbled. The cold water revived him a little and he tried jogging to get his blood pumping.

“Hey! Drunkard! Why do you keep coming back here?” Someone yelled from the crowd. “Ya coming to see your mistress?”

The crowd laughed.

Hyrestl only glanced at them and continued on.

The weariness pressed down on him. His jogging slowed. Soon, he couldn’t move much faster than a slow shuffle. He remembered something then and reached into his pocket and pulled out a pin. He pricked himself with it and felt the weariness recede a little. He picked up his pace to a quick walk. His body ached with each step.

He could see the entrance of Tarawa pass now. Its tunnel entrance towered above the town. Angular designs were etched into the smoothed stone around the great doorway.

He scratched at his unshaven face as he looked at it. Someone bumped into him.

“Watch where you’re going!” Hyrestl snapped.

The person pushed him away.

Hyrestl passed by a side street, then stopped. He backtracked and looked into it. The street meandered up the hill straight to the Tarawa entrance. A shortcut.

Hyrestl hurried up its dark cobblestone steps. This street didn’t have merry dancers or singers. The shops were cast in dark torchlight. A sickly sweet smell affronted his senses.

The shrill warbling of a Kaso passed above on the rooftops. Hyrestl glanced up, but it had already flown away.

The dark street intercepted the busy thoroughfare again and Hyrestl had to fight across the current of the crowd.

“Return,” a voice whispered.

Hyrestl’s breath caught. He looked wildly around.

There, standing still amongst the crowd was a cloaked form as black as the darkest shadow. Silvery threads wove across the shadow like spun moonlight. The threads came from all ends of the cloak to gather at the back of the hood where they twisted together with the shadow to create a long slender braid. It coiled at the form’s waist like a whip.

No one paid the dark figure any heed. It was a half-handspan shorter than most men in the crowd and they walked through it as if it were made of mist.

The form reached out a smooth slender hand towards Hyrestl. “Come.”

Hyrestl gave a cry and bolted through the crowd, pushing people out of his way. He ran into the side street again. He ran until he was out of breath and exhausted. He slumped with his shoulder against a wall in the street’s shadow panting heavily.

Dark figures detached themselves from shadows close by.

“Ibrah, you take the right. Eis, left, everyone else block the street.”

Hyrestl blinked as they approached him.

“Heh, heh, looks like he’s drunk or something.” The man kicked Hyrestl in the belly. Hyrestl crumpled to the ground.

One of the muggers chuckled. “This is too easy.” He reached into Hyrestl’s pocket.

Hyrestl stabbed him with the pin he’d been carrying.

The man jerked his hand away and cursed.

“Hey!” The other man kicked Hyrestl in the ribs.

Hyrestl gasped.

Soon they were all around him, kicking him. He covered his head and scrunched into a ball.

The light from the torches winked in and out as they jostled around him.

Hyrestl yelled.

The men and town around him faded again. This time they were replaced with rain and a forest at night. Lightning forked among the branches and men screamed. His pulse throbbed in his head as he swung his sword.

He gave out commands to his squad mates to flee. Metal struck metal in the inky blackness.

Hyrestl felt his neck prickle even before the lightning struck. He leapt away and lightning flashed where he had been standing.

He stood and tasted iron. He was bleeding.

An enemy rushed at him from out of the darkness. He cut the man down and turned, looking around himself. Lightning flashed again and revealed a form’s shadow standing amongst the tree trunks. The lightning was reflected in silvery threads across the shadow’s form.

A stab of fear lanced through Hyrestl’s heart.

“Jain!” a man screamed, “It’s a Jain! Retrea–” lightning forked through the trees and the man’s voice was suddenly cut off.

There was silence.

A war cry sounded from behind him. Hyrestl spun. There was only the darkness of night and the pattering of rain. Water dripped from his hair to his face.

Lightning flashed. A Jain stood fully clad in armor, Hyrestl’s men scattered about him upon the ground.

The darkness descended again and Hyrestl trembled.

The lightning flashed, showing the pale faces of his comrades and their blades. They stood shakily and turned toward him, their weapons leveled at him. Amongst them stood the Jain in his gleaming armor, his arm upraised as if he had pulled Hyrestl’s men from the ground himself.

The lightning receded and they were immersed darkness.

Hyrestl screamed and flung himself at them. He ducked by instinct. Lightning forked from the Jain’s hand, and the storm flashed lightning all around them.

Hyrestl moved by lightning strikes. The forms of his comrades were lit for only a moment in the flashes. He timed his blows so they would strike in the moments of darkness.

Hyrestl battled in a world of confusion. His sword struck iron, flesh, bone and heart. The world moved in jittery still images when lightning struck.

Hyrestl’s heart was torn with each stroke of his sword as he battled his comrades.

A blow struck his sword from his hands. He let his arms droop to his sides. Rain dripped from his fingertips in the darkness.

A mighty roar greater than thunder shook the ground. A gout of orange fire consumed the sky and trees. Hyrestl’s skin blistered from the heat as the flames evaporated the rain in an instant. The smell of ash and hot iron was immediate.

Something large struck him and picked him up into the air. Claws circled his torso like bands of iron.

He passed a treetop in his flight. Upon it stood the form darker than shadow. Reddish-orange was reflected by threads in the shadow upon one side, and the other side reflected the cold blue of lightning.

Hyrestl screamed and flung his arms. His hand struck a wall. He blinked.

The town was around him again. At his feet lay six bloodied men. In his hand he held a bloodied knife.

He looked around. Shopkeepers watched with mouths agape in horror. A crowd had gathered at the street’s entrance. Among them stood the shadowy form.

He ran. He ran towards the Tarawa pass with everything he had. When he reached the top of the hill his strength gave way and he slowed again to a shuffling walk. He could see the gate in front of him, open wide and inviting.

The two guards watching the door pointed at him and advanced towards him. They were saying something, but he couldn’t make it out. They had spears, but they had them hefted over their shoulders like they weren’t worried.

He stopped walking. His feet felt like they were rooted to the ground. His eyes slowly blinked. He stood still, swaying a little. All of his strength held his eyelids from drooping.

He could see his wife and children coming towards him from the tunnel. Yasi pointed excitedly and started running. His wife smiled and waved.

“I…I have to get back home…” he mumbled. He took one more step.

Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision. A tear streaked down his cheek.

The guards reached him and one crouched down and looked at Hyrestl’s down-turned face. “He fell asleep with his eyes open again, poor drunkard.”

The other shrugged. “Ole’ Bumble-dum here was overdue to show up again sometime. Hey, you owe me. I bet he’d turn up on the twenty-second and here he is on the twenty-third.”

The other guard got up out of his crouch. “Fine, here’s your two rani.”

“Two rani?! You bet me three you lyin cheater!”

The other guard shrugged, “Worth a try…hey,” he pointed to Hyrestl’s cuff, “that blood?”

The other guard leaned forward. “Sure nuff, hey, look at poor Bumble-dum’s face, looks like he took a beating.”

“Eh, isn’t the first time. His wounds don’t look too serious. Now, I’m going to bet he doesn’t start sleepwalking this time. I’ll go get Miss Wida –”

“Now hold on! You gotta give him a chance! Here, your three rani I just won I’ll bet he does start walkin in the next five minutes.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

They leaned on their spears and waited.

It was nearly five minutes when a tremble went through Hyrestl’s limbs.

“Oho! You owe me six rani now!”

“Ah, shucks.” The guard dug in his pocket and fished out the silver coins and handed them over.

“Come on, let’s get back to our posts before the captain yells at us.”

The two returned to the gate as with one heavy step after another, Hyrestl turned around and starting walking in a deep slouch and hanging head.

Hyrestl’s breaths came slow and shallow. His face was relaxed and his eyes stared at nothing. He dreamt only one thing. He walked down a cobble road with a shadow leading him at his side. Darkness was all around and his home was behind him.

By: J. Elias Epp

(A writing exercise)

           Skah cackled and held his stomach.

           “What?! Where did you see him?” Safira asked urgently.

           “Heehee! He flew over the wall!”

           “Guards. Search out the gardens and raise the alarm! Do not let Zaim escape!”

           The guards rushed away with three remaining to protect the princess.

           ***            Yuko landed in a splash. For a few moments, he flailed about, trying to find which way was up. His head was spinning from his fall. He gulped in water and he grew frantic. He saw light sparkling through the water and he swam towards it. His head broke the surface of the water and he spat up water and gasped for air.

           He shook the water from his head and looked around. He was in a small pool. He had been fortunate that he hadn’t landed on his head.

           He coughed again and wearily swam to the edge and grabbed hold of it. For a moment, there was only the sound of the breeze in the palms, the soft lapping of water, and the quiet song of a bird.

           There was a shout from further in the garden.

           Did they see me? He thought. His stomach churned and he winced.

           Another shout, this time from up by the palace.

           He sank his head lower in the water and blew bubbles.

           Did they really see me?

           “Don’t let him escape!”

           Yep, they did. He tried getting out of the pool but his vision swam. He hadn’t recovered from his fumble yet. He took a breath and let himself sink into the depths.

           He could hear the muffled shouts grow louder. They neared and he saw shadows cross the light.

           His lungs begged for air.

           A shadow blocked out all the light above him. Its head looked this one way, then another, then it looked down.

           The shadow cried out and jumped away.

           Ah, that’s right, he thought, the water is clear.

           Yuko twirled in the water, planting his feet on the bottom of the pool in a crouch. He whisked his knife from his sheath. He heaved with all his strength and sliced the water in front of him with his knife.

           He burst out of the pool and sliced the man’s wrist in one motion. He felt his feet land on the pool’s edge and he struck with his other palm into the man’s chest. The soldier tumbled backwards, dropping his sword.

           Yuko ran as other soldiers cried out to their fellows and raced after him.

           Yuko’s head whirled a little and he narrowly avoided running into the trunk of a tree. If his hunch was right, they would have put the sword into the armory.

           His wet feet slapped against stone as he ran up a path along the edge of the pillars of the palace.

           Two guards came rushing at him from the front. He brandished his knife in a backhand hold.

           The first one swung at him, he sidestepped and diverted the sword with his blade. Then he jumped up and kicked the guard behind the first with both feet. As they fell together, he caught the neck of the first guard in the crook of his elbow.

           The rear guard fell to his back and Yuko rolled as the first guard fell on top of the rear one.

           He gained his feet again and ran. He turned into the pillars suddenly and into the palace. He took a roundabout way as he caught glimpses of running guards through the gaps in the pillars.

           He rounded the last corner that would take him to the armory and was met with two lines of soldiers blocking his way to the door with swords drawn.

           He hesitated in his run for an instant. Behind the guards, the wall had frost all over it and the door. Even a hundred feet away, Yuko could feel the biting cold. The door, he knew, was made of solid wood.

It was a gamble, but he picked up his pace into a dead on sprint. He swerved to the side and grabbed a spear from its rack. With it held in front of him he charged the soldiers. In their haste, they only had swords, one of them would be impaled before they could land a hit on him and the captain in charger knew it. And Yuko knew the captain knew.

At the last moment, the captain yelled out an order and the guards parted in front of Yuko. The guards on the ends retreated and cut off escape from either side.

Yuko charged through the gap, raising the spear like a staff and deflecting the sword swipes at him from the side. Then, he was through their ranks. He quickly lowered the spear and struck the metal lock as hard as he could with it.

The frozen lock shattered and Yuko barreled into the armory room.

           The guards shouted at him, but he didn’t pay attention to them. Something was covering a tarp in the middle of the room.

           Yuko’s quick breathing came out in a fog. He hurriedly approached the tarp and struck it with the butt of his spear. The tarp fell away like ice and revealed the blade of Yuko’s sword and a man holding it.

           Yuko shattered the man’s hands in its death grip and snatched up the sword before it fell.

           He tossed the spear aside and strode out of the armory.

           The guards backed away.

           Yuko smiled. “What? No one is willing to challenge me?”

           The guards watched warily from a safe distance, but didn’t seem afraid.

           A numbness started to creep into Yuko’s toes and fingers. The sweat and water on his hand had frozen to the sword’s handle already.

           He quickly sheathed the sword, but couldn’t pull his hand from the handle.

           The guards watched him.

           He took a step forward, towards the line of soldiers. They didn’t budge. He took another step. They brandished their swords.

           Yuko gulped.

           Three of them rushed him.

           Yuko waited until the last moment, then lunged forward and slashed, drawing Adhiam and sheathing it just as quickly.

           The guards tried to turn, but their stomachs were already frozen stiff. They toppled over and light cracking and crinkling could be heard when they struck the floor. Their flesh giving away like ice before a hammer.

           Yuko felt the hand clutching Adhiam’s handle grow stiffer. His wet skin frosted.

           A couple more soldiers edged closer while some of them fetched spears.

           Yuko took a deep breath and the frost on his skin fell away like snow. With a glance he took in the faces of the soldiers surrounding him. There was a couple of them close together that kept their position, but kept glancing at what Yuko had done to the first three.

           Yuko turned suddenly and charged them before the others could return with the spears.

           The guards blanched, but their training kicked in and they blocked the first few of Yuko’s blows with their swords.

           Yuko felt twinges of pain in his hand with each blow. The sword felt clumsy in his grip and he had to bring both hands to support his frenzied strikes.

           The two guards backed up from Yuko’s onslaught. Their swords sustained many blows before, with a great heave, Yuko struck them and shattered the now-frozen blades.

           Before they could react, Yuko slashed through their stomachs and pushed past them.

           In the few seconds that he had fought them, the other guards had closed in behind him and had swung at him in the very moment he pushed past the two guards.

           He quickly sheathed Adhiam. Now both of his forearms were feeling stiff. It had been too easy for him to forget how much he had relied on his thick clothing to stay warm, especially when the blade was uncovered.

           He ran past pillars with guardsmen closing in from every side. Some were running at him from the front, he turned to the side and met some coming from that direction. He stopped and planted his back against a pillar as guards from all over the palace surrounded him.

           He feinted in one direction and they backed away, widening the circle. The circle didn’t weaken though. More soldiers from the back filled in the gaps.

           Yuko’s breathing came heavily. He was trapped and running out of time. His teeth chattered. It was now or never. He would risk breaking the sword like so many before it, but he had to test its level of strength sometime.

He charged at the line again and swung Adhiam in an arc. Instead of shattering, like he had expected, Adhiam’s blade held as it cut halfway through the blade of a soldier’s sword.

Yuko gave a sharp yank and the soldier’s sword shattered. Others came from the side and Yuko blocked their strikes. He felt his arms grow stiffer with each passing second.

Yuko’s clumsy strikes could be parried by the soldiers now. They felt the advantage and pressed their attack. Yuko shattered sword after sword but had to give ground as he was pressed back to a pillar again. Soldiers with spears took the places of those whose swords had broken.

Yuko cleaved the heads off the spears as they were jabbed at him. The chill spread through his limbs slower as the exercise warmed him.

Then, suddenly, the spearmen parted for soldiers bearing…buckets of water?

Too late, Yuko realized their plan. He dodged to the side as the first one threw their load at him. He cut the spears blocking his way as another spray of water landed on his back and instantly started to freeze.

The spearmen backed away as Yuko struggled to detach his bare feet from the water frozen on the ground.

His breath came quicker as he panicked. It fogged and drifted slowly away.

Another splash of water soaked him and froze solid, as effective as irons around his legs and arms.

More water was splashed on him. He struggled with all his might against it. The ice cracked and shards fell off him. The ice was immediately replaced by another splash of water.

His vision was icing over now. He stared as the guards parted for Safira and she leveled a cold gaze upon him as if she were freezing the ice herself.

By: J. Elias Epp

A writing exercise

            Yuko tied the taut rope to the stump. The palm tree it was attached to was bent far to the ground.

           Yuko wiped the sweat from his brow and huffed from the exertion. He glanced from the rope to the nearby wall, then back to the rope. It looked like it would work.

           He had spent most of the night making his way along the bottom of the wall, trying to find a weak point. The best one he’d found was this one. A makeshift catapult.

           He’d had the idea before he had drifted off to sleep. In the morning he’d perfected the idea. He tied another rope to the tree at a specific length so it would stop the tree at an angle. The tree would suddenly stop and he’d go flying into the city.

           He checked around himself again. There was grass under his feet and more palm trees around him. By his estimation, he would land somewhere in the palace gardens. From there he could find out where his sword was being kept. No doubt by now, there was quite the stir in the city with the arrival of Skah and the swords. The royalty would be involved too.

           Yuko pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on. He took and breath and slapped his face with his hands. “Don’t give up yet! I’m almost there, I’m almost there, just do, don’t think, do.”

           He climbed onto the top of the palm tree and rooted his feet onto the sturdy trunk.

           Deep breaths, deep breaths, let the tension drain from the body, go with the flow, feel it, relax, you’ve flown a glider before, this is just like that, I know how to land, like a cat, like a cat, don’t worry, cats don’t die from falls, I won’t die from falls.

           He stretched his neck and pulled his knife from its sheath. He twirled it around a few times, the familiarity of the movement calming to him.

           Then, he reached back and cut at the cord until it started unraveling itself.

           He briskly sheath the knife, shifted his feet, crouched tensed his legs and looked to the sky. The moment the cord broke, he would jump to increase the height.

           The cord snapped, and he felt the tree trunk heave him skywards. His legs took a little of the shock, bending, but he had been prepared. His legs started rebounding into a jump as the angle of the tree shifted, as it did so, he shifted the angle of his jump directly upwards.

           He heard the air whooshing past him build to a frightening roar. The palm branches above him were suddenly next to his face. His legs powered off the tree like a giant springboard.

           His jump finished just before the tree’s whiplash was stopped short by the other cord. He felt his feet leave the trunk of the tree. He could see over the trees like a bird, there were soldiers patrolling the wall, but none near him as he’d timed it.

           A thought struck through his mind. Am I stupid?

***

           Skah walked beside Safira in the gardens. He marveled at their beauty and of all the flowers gathered together. Even in his wanderings he hadn’t see anything like it. Fountains burbled and there were plenty of trees to give shade from the sun. He also marveled how twelve guardsmen could move so easily behind them when the path was so small. Obviously, they suspected he might try something.

           Safira looped her arm through his and smiled up at him. “Is that really all you know about Zaim? You fought him, didn’t you? You scar certainly proves that.” She poked at it and Skah grimaced, but also blushed a deep red at the same time.

           “Heehee.” She drew closer to him. “Come now, what is his weakness? How did you defeat him? You have to tell me that much.”

           “Ah, um…”  What is she doing? She was acting so cold before, now she’s holding onto me with her soft arm. I can smell her perfume this close too. “Well, he almost got me, ya’know.”

           She poked him in the side teasingly and laughed when he winced away.

           Skah didn’t know if she was being flirtatious or enjoyed seeing him in pain.

           “I disarmed him with my sword, okay? Its hot enough that it likely burned his hand a little through his glove. You know, even with it in its sheath I still get pretty hot just carrying it around.”

           Safira poked his side again. “I think you’re pretty warm even without it.”

           Skah was all too aware of the sweat that was building where their arms met. He made to pull his arm away but she resisted his movement.

           “Um, er, I’m pretty thirsty, can we stop by one of these fountains for a drink?”

           She glanced up at him. “I guess.” She led him to a fountain that was in the shadow of a grove of palm trees.

           Skah felt the air grow cooler instantly when they entered the shade. Safira let his arm go and he picked up a golden bowl from the edge of the fountain. He studied its intricate etchings before dipping it into the water and slurping from it.

           He turned his back to the fountain as he drank and gazed over the green lawns of the gardens. They were near the wall at this fountain. Vines crept up its sides and some of them sported flowers.

           The guard that had been to Skah’s right in the throne room stood about three steps away and glowered at Skah. The other guards had fanned themselves around him and the princess in a half-circle.

           As such, all of their backs were to the garden.

           As Skah gazed at the scene he saw a person fly through the air, tumbling end over end sideways in an aerial cartwheel.

           Skah splurted all of the water in his mouth into the face of the guard in front of him and dropped the bowl.

           “Hahahahahaha! Hahahaha! Ow! Hahaha!” He clutched his stomach in pain as he doubled over in laughter.

           The guard face that was now dripping wet in front of him was beet red in anger. Safira looked at him confusedly, then out at the garden, but the person had already landed by then and was out of sight.

           The other guards looked about too and placed their hands on their hilts.

           “What?” Safira snapped. “What is it that is so funny?!”

           Skah took deep breaths. “That…has to be one of the funniest things I’ve seen. Hah hah!”

           Safira took a handful of Skah’s hair and turned his tear-streaked face up so she could look at it. “What is so funny?”

           Still suppressing his laughter, Skah pointed a finger in the direction he’d seen Yuko land. “If, if you’re looking for Zaim, heeheehee! He’s over that way! Hahahaha!”

 Author’s Note: Sometimes, as an author, it is good to give in to ridiculous inclinations. There are those out there who will relentlessly repeal and attack you because something isn’t “realistic” in your story. Obviously, launching from a tree is fairly ludicrous, but you know what? It was fun to write. I’ve decided to only write what I enjoy writing. Of course, I’ll keep things…somewhat believable, but that won’t stop me from having some fun too. If I ever write something I don’t want to just because I think others will want it, I’ve lost what made me want to be a writer in the first place. That’s why I chaff at the idea of traditional publishing. “Stick to the rules so you can get published, then you can break the rules once you are established enough.” I’m sorry, but going with someone else’s “rules” for what is a good story kills my creativity. Many publishers have their own ideas about what sells the best. Many times they’re right. But I don’t want to fit to their mold. I’ll write the kind of stories that I would want to read.

Written By: J. Elias Epp

 Kian reached through the bars and clasped his mother’s hand. The coliseum rumbled with the cheers of the people.

“Rew la thar! Rew la thar!”

Kian breathed in and his eyes unfocused.

A hand squeezed his. He turned his head towards the person and heard a voice.

Footsteps from down the hall.

“Rew la thar! Rew la thar! Rew – ” The crowd gives a tremendous roar.

The iron grates were before Kian, an empty cell behind him. One person in the hall clasping his hand, ones unseen approaching. The rumble and roar of the earth and air. Whisper of breath and thud of heart. Screams trembling in his chest.

The crowd quieted to a low murmur.

Footsteps smacked against the stone suddenly close.

Kian’s knees trembled and he shuddered. He clenched his teeth.

Four guards with a captain leading appeared.

Kian’s breath caught.

They walked straight.

Please go by.

The captain suddenly turned on his heel sharply in front of Kian’s cell door.

Kian felt his soul surge within him, he felt it explode and a mighty roar well up in his throat. His soul crashed against the inside of his body and he grasped an iron bar with one hand and pulled.

The four guards stood ready on either side of the door as the captain unlocked it.

Kian strained with all his might. His whole body tensed and his mouth gaped in a silent yell. His soul roared like an inferno within him.

The bar didn’t budge.

The door clacked open and the four guards stepped in.

Kian’s mother wept bitterly and wrung Kian’s hand in hers.

The mighty ocean of Kian’s soul crashed upon the shore of Kian’s weak body. It could not be released.

One guard wrested his hand out his mother’s. Then, with the help of the other three guards they pulled his grasp off the bars.

They tied his hands with rope and bound his ankles together.

Then, the ocean in Kian leaked out. His eyes unfocused and tears streamed down his face.

Two guards drug him by the shoulders down the hall.

One guard stayed by his mother. A wail echoed against the walls. A guard walked ahead of Kian. The captain led the way. The hiss of his feet over stone. Empty stares from full cells.

The guards drag him to an armory. They fit a leather vest over him, then a metal chest plate. Holes are punctured in both. Each breath tightens the vest around him. He lifts his tied hands and pulls on the chest plate at the neck.

His teeth clench and his neck muscles tighten.

The guards curse under their breaths and peel his hands off.

Kian breathes in and out, in and out. He clenches his hands into tight fists and curls his toes.

The shout of an announcer echoes faintly.

The guards hold him at the captain’s command and one of them cuts his bonds.

The guards back off and level spears at him. The captain motions to a shield and sword on a table before Kian.

“Pick them up.”

Kian looks in that direction. There’s a table. Things are on the table. Guards on either side. Stone walls. Racks of weapons. Shelves of gear. Heavy wood door. Coliseum above, below, around him. City around the coliseum. Woods around the city. Land under the woods. Ocean around the land. Air above the ocean. Air around him right now. He breathes it in.

A butt of a spear smacks his back. He stumbles forward. He catches himself on the table. Two objects are on it.

He picks one up, its round. He slides it on his arm. It’s heavy.

He picks the other up. Heavy and unbalanced. Sharp.

Another butt from a spear behind him makes him stumble forward.

The crowd suddenly cheers and begins chanting.

“Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam!”

Kian steps forward. His arms hang loose at his sides. The sword sways.

Steps echo against the tight hallway. Steps behind him. The passage sways around him.

The passage widens into a room. Guards lounge near the walls. Eyes watch Kian. A large grate portcullis is opposite Kian with sun shining through it.

The butt of a spear makes him stumble towards it.

“Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam!”

Wood, iron and light in front of him. Whisper of breath. Tightening vest. Sweat on leather handle. Cool stone. Drafts of hot-sandy air.

The portcullis clangs and is drawn upward.

Drums.

“Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam!”

Kian takes one step over the threshold and stands still. There’s sandy ground. Chiseled stone walls. Faces watching all the way to the sky. Roof open to the heavens. Banners of blue and black.

Bare-chested man with black helm. Waiting on sand. Leather skirt armor.

A rod strikes his back and he stumbles forward into the light.

The crowd falls silent.

A breath of wind shifts the sand.

The helmed man stands motionless.

“Yag Segen Ha!” A man yells.

The cry is picked up by others and it grows to a chant.

“Yag Segen Ha! Yag Segen Ha! Yag Segen Ha!”

The black-helmed man looks up and to the side. He’s hairy. His muscles bulge against his skin. He nods and bows. He turns towards Kian and rolls his shoulders.

The portcullis slams shut behind Kian. He takes a step back.

“Yag Segen Ha! Yag Segen Ha!” The crowd yells angrily.

Kian steps back again to the gate. A rod jabs him away. He steps to the side along the stone wall.

The black helm slowly follows him. A dust devil kicks up behind the man.

Kian moves against the wall.

The man’s body turns and walks forward.

Kian freezes.

The man picks up his pace into a charge.

Sand kicks up under the man’s feet. Sweat is slicked on his skin. Dust powders his legs.

The sword.

Kian jabs it at the man’s chest. The man twists to the side of the blade, then brings his palm around and slams it into Kian’s chest.

The blow knocks the sword from Kian’s grasp. His body folds under the blow, then strikes the wall. His head flops back and hits the wall.

Blackness frames Kian’s vision. Stars swim where they should be staying still. His heart beats in the back of his head. His chest is empty of air. The air is over the ocean.

A fist clenches his arm and starts dragging him into the middle of the sand.

Kian’s mouth gapes. He drools as he tries to suck in air.

The grip on him shifts. A hand grabs a fist of his hair.

Kian takes in the smallest breath. Sand scrapes against his dented chest plate.

The man pulls Kian’s head up. Kian gasps in air.

From the black helm echoes a loud voice.

A memory flashes across Kian’s mind. Sun-dappled grass. Golden wheat field under cloud-speckled bright blue sky. Cool shade. Green forest. House. Sweat, shovel and spade. Cool, clear stream. Wind in dancing sister’s hair. Proud brother relaxing near. Parents walking up the path.

A quiet upon all the hills around.

Kian’s eyes focus. A cloud-speckled bright blue sky is above him.

***

 Author’s Note: This writing tries to capture an abstract idea I had through present-tense narrative. Its style is more immediate than the usual past-tense narrative I’m used to writing. I think it is a little like the Gravedigger story I’ve written in that sense. Well, looking back through it I realize it is a little weird because I’m mixing present and past tense.  :P   Don’t do that. It is fairly easily fixed by modifying sentence structure though. I’m sorry that it leaves off in critical moment, but I wasn’t sure how to effectively write a turning point for my sorely overmatched main character.

Hot Guy Cold Guy: Chapter 6

By: J. Elias Epp

A writing exercise

Two soldiers drug a shackled Skah through the glimmering halls of the Ashmet palace by his arms.

Skah didn’t mind, he simply stared slack-jawed at the enormity of the pillars, the majesty of the art, the beauty of the cloths, and the prolific amounts of gold lining white marble.

“You know,” Skah said as he stared at the height of the ceilings, “I could’ve used more than just a bath and new clothes. Heck, with a palace like this you could have afforded me a better bed than that wooden bench.”

The guard on the right shook his arm. “Quiet you, you’re lucky to get a wood bench. I personally requested them so you prisoners would quit yapping about cold stone. Now you complain about hard wood. Never should have done it.”

“Oh,” Skah tried to shrug but only achieved a head bob, “That changes things. I didn’t say I didn’t like the bench, just that it looks like you guys could afford something better. I’ve been sleeping on sticks and stones recently, the bench was actually rather nice compared to that.”

“Oh, you hear that?” The guard nodded his head at Skah to the other guard. “This prisoner has a modicum of respect, I’ll actually be sorry to see him stoned.”

Skah snapped his gaze away from the tall ceiling. “Wait, what? Stoning? I don’t want to get stoned, stoning is bad, very bad.” He wriggled in their grip and tried to look up at them.

“Shh, shh,” The guard shook his head, “I should say that there is a possibility.”

“That’s still bad, you can take me back to the prison now.”

The guard shook his head. “Too late, we’re here.”

They rounded a corner and three great rectangular arches stood before them. The largest was flanked by two smaller ones to each side. Large gilded reliefs of men standing with staffs stood on the sides of the doorways. The stone was painted with brilliant blues and greens and bright white cloths were draped across openings in the ceiling that allowed shafts of light into the grand hall of pillars before them.

At the end of the rows of pillars was a golden throne with the iridescent blue-green tail feathers of the Oasha bird overshadowing it.

No one was sitting in the throne. Instead, the guards drug Skah to the arch to the left. They passed through the arch and Skah could see that it was still a part of the main throne room, the only thing that separated the two were the rows of large columns. Scenes were painted upon the columns and walls depicting scenes of workers in fields, soldiers at battle and rulers sitting upon thrones.

Attendants were gathered at the other end of the hall where a woman with light yellow hair sat in a brilliant white sheath dress.

Skah thought her hair was oddly shaped on her head, but the guard’s comment about stoning reminded him it would be better not to say anything about it.

“You know,” Skah said out of the corner of his mouth, “this long hall makes it kinda awkward when we’re walking towards them. They’re just staring at us.”

The guard squeezed his arm. “Shhh.”

Despite his feeling of awkwardness, Skah survived being dragged the length of the long hallway. Someone had been kind enough to lay out a long rug to save Skah’s sore feet.

About a stone’s throw away from the throne, the guards lay Skah upon his face and kneeled in reverence themselves.

“Princess, the one who came to the city in possession of Adhiam and the flaming sword is the one lying before you. Do with him as you deem just.”

The rug tickled Skah’s nose. He tried to stifle the sneeze, but he couldn’t help it.

“Achoo!”

The guard on the right grabbed a handful of Skah’s hair. “You dare sneeze in front of her majesty?!”

Skah suppressed a chuckle. It came out as a snort instead.

“Guardsman.”

The man bowed low. “Yes my majesty?”

“Let the man stand.”

Skah was hauled to his feet. Since his face wasn’t buried in the rug, he could see the princess more properly. In a word, she was more vibrant and beautiful than he had imagined, despite how her hair was fashioned to look like a basket plopped on her head.

“You’re very baskety, I mean, beautiful miss.” He blushed a deep red.

She arched an eyebrow.

The guard jabbed Skah in the ribs with his elbow. “She didn’t say you could speak, cur.”

“Oh, right, sorry, sorry.” Skah bowed at the waist while holding his side.

Safira eyed Skah with a level gaze. “Warrior, how did you come by the sword of Adhiam?”

“The cold sword? I fought a guy for it. He said his name was Yucko or something.”

“Describe him to me.”

“Well, he’s sunburnt, has black hair, on the small side, about this high…and he has a temper.”

Safira nodded. “What else?”

“Oh! He has beady eyes like he wants to stab you with them.”

Safira leaned her head towards one of the attendants standing by her.

“Majesty, that lines up with what we know so far.”

She nodded and turned back to Skah. “What was he wearing?”

“Um, he had his face and head covered like this,” Skah put his hands over his face so only his eyes showed, “and the rest of him is covered too. But then he took it all off after I took his sword from him.”

“Oh? And what does his face look like?”

Skah thought for a moment. “Well, his face is kinda…” he stroked his chin, “Its kinda…like…young-looking.”

Safira thought for a moment, then asked, “Why did you come to this city?”

The corner of Skah’s mouth twitched upward. “I didn’t want to walk the rest of the way into your city so I hired your guards to drag me the rest of the way.”

Safira blinked.

“That isn’t the case your majesty!” The guard to Skah’s right protested. “He lies and makes a mockery of you!” He grabbed ahold of Skah.

“Wait.”

The guard stopped.

“I’m sure it was all in jest.” She looked at Skah, expecting an answer.

Skah grinned. “Ya got me. I’ll tell you why, because it was on my way to the Star of the West. But you guys don’t allow swords here, so I was just going to go around.”

Safira contemplated this. If what he is saying is true, she thought, we may have invited destruction upon ourselves.

The prophecy of the Swords of the Heavens wasn’t a well known one. In fact, it was only the mention of a man coming with a sword of fire and a sword of ice that jogged her memory of it. The painted scenes were just barely visible where she had seen them last night. They were in a shadow on the ceiling between two pillars.

She regarded the man before her. The guardsmen had dressed him in a simple white linen skirt. There were wraps around his torso where he had been injured in his battle, but she could still see the musculature like that of one of her soldiers. A man familiar with the rigors of battle and fighting.

Skah fidgeted under her gaze and at the silence. Why am I even here? He thought. What could that annoying idiot have done where the simple sight of his sword gets me brought before the rulers?!

Safira stood and walked over to the place beneath where the prophecy was recorded.

Skah turned his head to follow her movement but met the eyes of the guard next to him.

The man’s eyes said, “Don’t look at her, you cur.”

Skah batted his eyes at the guard but kept his eyes forward.

Safira read the prophecy again and the scenes around it but didn’t find anything new. The prophecy did not say anything about if the man brought the destruction or if the swords did. But perhaps it is implied the man brings the destruction. She thought.

What should she do? Keep the man in prison? Send him away from the city? Kill him? He seemed nice, how could this man bring about disaster upon the city? This man could be an enemy or a possible strong ally. She needed to know more.

She walked back to Skah and patted him on the arm. “Come, let’s talk more in the gardens.”

Skah looked into her crystal blue eyes and blushed.

She smiled, “Where did you last see the man you fought? We call him Zaim, and he brought both a blessing and a curse upon our city.”

  Author’s Note: I am writing this organically. As such, I am simply putting ideas down on paper as it comes to me. For me, this involves a lot of “putting things together” step by step. Sometimes, I find that I have to engage characters in undramatized scenes in order to figure out how things will go between two characters in a situation. In this one, I have a princess who wants revenge for her brother’s death, but cannot ignore a possible threat she knows little about. Then there is Skah who has never been in a palace before, much less knows how to interact with royalty and has no idea what he’s stepped into.

By: J. Elias Epp

A writing exercise

 Three figures trudged through an expanse of rubble from crumbled buildings and roads. The sun set to their back, coloring the landscape orange where it touched, and black in the shadows.

The tallest of the three stopped and took his gaze off the ground. His tired old eyes searched the shadows of the sun.

The other two stopped as well. One was a young boy, the other a girl in her upper teens. Strands of her brown hair waved lazily in the breeze. She didn’t raise her eyes to look about.

There was a deep quiet that could be felt all the way to the horizon. The tarps of empty makeshift shelters flapped in the breeze. A building softly groaned as it settled. A pebble clattered as it fell, then echoed into silence as it disappeared into the jagged maze of rubble.

The sun sank, its last rays disappearing from the top of the hill of fallen buildings they faced towards. The sky continued to darken and the shadows deepened to an inky blackness.

Suddenly, a blue flickering light, like the light from a welding torch, lit up a hill next to the one they faced. It cast the shadow of a ruined building in sharp relief against the hill’s side.

They couldn’t see the source. The hill they faced was in the way. It flickered weakly, then stuttered brightly, casting the whole hill in front of it in a sharp silhouette. Then there was darkness.

“Eohin’s Gate.” The tone of the old man’s voice was matter-of-fact. He looked back down, he couldn’t walk in the rubble with the shadows so deep.

So, he didn’t walk. He sat down.

The other two did the same, looking at their feet.

The concrete they sat on had rebar sticking out of it. The slabs were angled in every direction like boulders.

The boy absently scraped his foot against them.

“Tomorrow,” the old man said. He rose and looked carefully in the faded light for the deepest shadow among the ruins.

“Come.”

The two young ones rose and followed the man, who slowly felt his way down the slope.

He reached the shadow and peered into it. Then carefully, very carefully and slowly while bracing himself, he lowered one leg into the darkness. His shoe scraped against concrete.

“Come.” He lowered himself more into the hole in the ruins, reaching out to find where the walls were.

The girl followed next, then the boy. In the darkness they found spots where they could set their backs against to sleep the night.

The sound of their rustling soon quieted to the occasional scuff.

The breeze whispered quietly outside. It gusted weakly, sighing softly.

Their eyes blinked slowly.

The faint blue of the moon glowed softly against the white concrete.

The old man went to sleep first. His quiet snoring became a soothing and reassuring lullaby.

The eyes of the girl and boy grew heavy. Their breathing slowed. Within moments their weariness pulled them into sleep.

Hours passed, the wind died down, all was quiet. A cloud passed over the moon, casting the land in its shadow.

The wind picked up and moaned softly.

The man’s snoring stopped and his sleeping face creased in a frown.

The wind moaned louder, closer.

His eyes slowly opened.

The wind softly moaned its low note and died away. Nothing could be seen in the darkness.

The man felt his pulse beat faster.

The wind picked up again, hissing against the bones of buildings. Its low moan started again, held, then the wind died and the moan separated itself from a far-off howl.

A shoe scuffed against rubble in the dark. The young ones were awake.

For a moment they all sat quietly. The howling came again, it didn’t sound closer or further away.

In the shadow, the girl stirred and pulled something from her small pack. A blue light suddenly lit her face in the dark.

“Elthia, is there anyone?” The old man asked. He hoped the howling would go by them like it had so many times before.

Elthia tapped buttons on the device and the light against her face changed color and brightness a few times. She shook her head.

Another howl from far off was carried on the wind.

They all stilled, waiting.

The howl died and there was silence again. For long moments they waited.

The moon came out from behind the cloud. A shaft of light shone into their little cave.

Elthia broke the silence. “You said it connects to someone in the past. Weren’t there more people then? Where are they?”

“There were more, not many were dying in those days.”

“It’ll save me if I die.”

“Yes,” The old man nodded reassuringly, “yes.” She had asked him this many times, as if it would suddenly change one day.

“Only if there is another connected to me.”

“Yes, yes.”

She shook the device.

“Elthia.”

She stared at the device. Her information was displayed on its screen. Name, birth date, height, weight, blood pressure, blood type, ethnicity, medical history, onset of lethal illness date…

“If no one from the past can help you, Eohin’s Gate will bring you to them.”

The howl came, closer, more distinct. Deep it started, with the faint reverberations of rapid clicking, then it rose slightly in pitch and the clicking changed into a high-pitched creaking.

They sat there in shock.

The wind whispered. There was no sound. No sound by which to know a location. Something was in the darkness.

Elthia slowly put the device away. Then sat stock-still.

The whites of the boy’s wide eyes reflected the glow of the moon.

The old man’s eyes gazed at the floor with an almost disinterested look. Within his chest his heart beat hard against his ribs.

Again, the howl filled the silence, closer.

Elthia tried to keep her breathing normal.

The boy’s jaw clenched and his fist grasped the end of a piece of rebar with white knuckles.

The howl came again. It sounded like it was atop the very hill of rubble they were in. The clicking and the creaking beneath the howl echoed within the rubble. It sounded like the very animal itself was scurrying about within the crevices of the concrete and all around their little cave.

Something clattered down the slope. A piece of rubble.

Elthia clutched her bag tightly to her chest. Her eyes were fixed on the opening of the cave.

More rubble clattered. Something could be heard shuffling up above them. It clambered over the ruins. Something sharp scraped against stone.

Tears dripped down the boy’s face.

The thing was joined by others and together they meandered down the slope.

Closer they came, bodies brushing on concrete. They panted, the sound growing louder towards the way they faced.

A howl. So loud it sounded like one of them had jumped right into the cave with them.

Scraping claws and thumps right outside the cave as the beast jumped from one slab to the next. The panting sound turned away, becoming quiet, then suddenly louder and closer.

A shadow moved over the mouth of the cave.

The man’s wide eyes bored into the floor of the cave.

Elthia’s heart beat so fast it hurt. She clenched her teeth like a cage for the scream in her throat.

The boy’s face whitened, his body rigid, then he slumped, unconscious from the fright.

The beast’s shadow blocked out the light of the moon. Seconds passed. Suddenly, there was moonlight again.

Claws scraped and grew more distant. The thumping of beasts running down the slope came and passed.

All was silent again.

Elthia didn’t remember how many minutes, or hours passed before the last howl could be heard. She fell into sleep.

Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow I’ll be healed at Eohin’s Gate and leave this world.

***

Aeson sat in the waiting room bouncing his foot. He crossed his arms over his chest, left over right. His mother was on his left reading a magazine, his father was on his right with a stare that looked past the wall across from him.

Aeson switched his arms, right over left. The room was quiet, save for the occasional telephone ring or the receptionist and her talking. Old men and women sat in chairs waiting for their own appointments.

Unlike many of the waiting rooms that Aeson was accustomed to, this one didn’t have any toys for children.

Not that he needed them. He was seventeen. It’s just, there were no children playing. Even sick children playing with toys made a lighthearted atmosphere. This place…well, it had a feeling of somber resignation.

He shifted in his seat and winced at the pain in his side. Despite it being mid-afternoon he felt like he needed to sleep.

“Honey.”

Aeson looked at his mother out of the corner of his eye.

“Let’s get something to eat after this, okay? Whatever you want.”

He gave a nod and followed his father’s gaze into the wall. She didn’t have to act like she already knew the results. Eating out was usually reserved for celebrations. Times like birthdays or graduations or even having friends over. He wasn’t likely to have many more of those celebrations. Eating out after doctor appointments were always meant to soften pain.

The door to the doctor’s office opened and Aeson held his breath.

A male nurse walked out and stopped just outside the door.

“Aeson Nash?”

Aeson let out a breath and stood.

His parents stood with him and his father squeezed his shoulder.

The nurse led them through the offices which always seemed like a maze to Aeson. Instead of going into one of the examination rooms, they were led to Doctor Winter’s office. Aeson had already spent enough time in those rooms and being scanned by machines.

As they walked down the hall, they passed by a man and woman about in their fifties. Aeson noticed they had red eyes and crestfallen faces.

The nurse opened the door and ushered them inside.

There was a desk and three chairs in front of it. The room was larger than their living room. A spry man stood from behind the desk and motioned them to the chairs.

“Please, sit.”

Doctor Winter had a light voice and just as light a frame. He was skinny beneath his white lab coat, though not unhealthy.

To Aeson, the man looked like a tree without leaves draped in snow. The man’s appearance seemed appropriate for his name.

Despite his light appearance, the man’s voice held a tremor of gravity that made Aeson’s heart sink. His mother had started tearing up. He knew she was holding out hope.

Together, they sat down in front of Winter’s desk.

Winter opened a thick file folder and started flipping through it. He glanced up. “Mr. and Mrs. Nash, how have you two been holding up this past week?”

Aeson’s father cleared his throat. “Um good, we’ve been holding up just fine.”

Dr. Winter nodded and glanced up at Aeson’s mother.

She forced a smile with watery eyes. “Felton, please, just tell us the results.”

Dr. Winter nodded solemnly. “I understand ma’am, I just need to refresh myself on the particulars.”

He found a few printouts and pictures and looked them over. He glanced up at Aeson. “And how about you? How are you doing?”

Aeson swallowed. “I, uh, I bumped my shoulder against the doorframe two days ago. It didn’t hurt but I have a large bruise now.”

Winter nodded with serious eyes focused on Aeson. “So, you’re bruising easily then.” His eyes glanced at Aeson’s parents. He flipped through a couple more papers. “Yes, I believe the scans have shown us what is going on definitively.” He finished reading a piece of paper and set it down. He looked up and cusped his left hand in his right.

“Aeson, I don’t mean to cause you any alarm by saying this, but you have cancer.”

His mother sucked in a breath and clasped a hand over her mouth as tears ran down her face.

His father put an arm around Aeson and squeezed Aeson’s shoulder.

Aeson just said, “oh.”

Winter let out a breath. “There are options, of course. There is radiation therapy, surgery…”

Cancer. Aeson thought. What can I do about this? How long do I have? What about college? Could I do treatments and college at the same time? Will I have time to become a car engineer? “How much time do I have?”

Winter stopped in the middle of answering a question about treatments his mom had asked. He cleared his throat. “At this time, the best guess is…two years.” He bowed his head as if a weight had been added to it.

“Of course, this can be lengthened with treatments.”

His father opened his mouth to ask a question.

Winter held up his hand. “I should also tell you that this cancer isn’t a slow progression like many others. It has only started occurring in younger individuals over the past decade, but it has a tendency to rapidly accelerate in the second stage. Sometimes, a person’s estimation is shortened from five years to a week.”

“Then, how…” his father stammered.

“There is something we can give him for that. It’s a medical device that will give him a second chance. It uses Syndmell technology, so we may have to try out a few before we get one to work on him.”

Aeson’s father seemed to gain energy from this. “That tech is unreliable anymore. How can we trust it? The quantum entanglement across the space-time geography –”

“I know you’ve programmed for the technology, Mr. Nash, but the way the quantum mechanics work with this device means it either works or it doesn’t. If it successfully activates, then it will continue to operate until it is destroyed. It doesn’t use Syndmell tech in the way the spaceplanes used to. There won’t be a repeat of Wandon. Regardless, it’ll give your son more time.” His severity quieted Aeson’s father. He turned to Aeson. “Now, let’s get you fitted with a S.Q.E.D. shall we?”

Dr. Winter walked over to a side door in his office. The door looked heavy and had a flat black panel to one side of it. The door itself had no handle.

Dr. Winter placed his hand on the black panel and there was a click. He pushed against the door with his shoulder and the door swung inward to a narrow and long closet space. Along one side were shelves, along the other were what looked like safe-deposit boxes.

He swiped his finger on one and it popped open. He took out a roundish device about the size of Aeson’s hand with outstretched fingers.

He waved Aeson over and Aeson obediently stood and walked over. He found his legs were a little weak, but he was able to walk.

Aeson stepped into the closet.

“Hold this one.”

Aeson held the device. A progress bar lit up the screen with a “connecting” message displayed on it. They waited for a couple more moments, then the screen displayed an error message.

Deftly, Dr. Winter took the device from Aeson and put it away, taking out another just as quickly.

Aeson held this one too.

“Aeson.”

Aeson took his eyes off the S.Q.E.D.’s progress bar and looked at Dr. Winter.

The doctor’s eyes were soft as they looked into Aeson’s eyes. “What are you planning to do with your life?”

Aeson felt his eyes grow hot, but he couldn’t stop a tear from escaping. He looked down at the device. “I was going to go to college.”

“What were you going to go for?” The doctor gently prodded.

“I was,” Aeson breathed in, “I was going to become a car engineer.”

“Aeson, look up.”

Aeson looked up. Dr. Winter took the device from his hand and handed him another.

“You can live your life in many ways from here on. Some despair, others party until they can’t anymore, others continue like they always have as if nothing has happened. Some want to live in a way that will create a positive memory in those they leave behind.”

Aeson held the device awkwardly and thought. He do I want to live the rest of my life? He thought. He mused over the weighty question. He sniffled. The device wasn’t connecting. He would die one day, with this device or not. He looked up.

“I want to design a car.”

The device in his hand chimed and the screen flashed green.

  Author’s Note:

This writing exercise is an exploration of an idea I had. Actually, it was primarily a dream I had. God blesses me with such vivid and interesting dreams! This one I was able to remember. In the morning after I had it, I tried to capture it in the same vivid way it was in my dream. Obviously, in dreams there are more abstract “feelings” of how things are than actual concrete details.

 The main premise is two worlds. One is a functional world before the time of a ruined world. A character in each is linked by a device. If one dies, they are kept alive by the other. This only happens once for each though. The second time they die cannot be prevented. (I really haven’t worked out how this works, but hey, it just needs to do its job right?)

In any case, that is the premise, the challenge then is to create a functional story out of a dream that “made sense” at the time. To those of you lucky enough to remember a dream once in a while, write down what you remember and make a story out of it! Have fun!

By: J. Elias Epp

A writing exercise

            Safira walked slowly behind the richly ornamented sarcophagus that sparkled in the sun. Her brother’s body was not in it. It would be prepared for the afterlife for another year in the care of the physicians.

           The sarcophagus was carried on the shoulders of royal servants dressed in fine gold ornaments and linens. In front of them walked two rows of thirty mourners. Their wails carried through the air.

           In front of them walked the royal prophets with their tall staffs. For once, their voices did not cry out to announce the coming of royalty.

           The procession walked through the green palace gardens full of fountains, trees, flowers and white marble and gold. The streams of water and polished gold leaf sparkled and shone.

           Servants shielded her face from the sun with large fans made of colorful feathers. It was only mid-morning and the sun was already hot against Safira’s skin where it touched at her heels. She wore her face uncovered so all may see the tears of her grieving. She didn’t feel like it, but it was expected of her.

           She wore a richly ornamented headdress, a broach necklace made of linked plates of silver, and a brilliantly white sheath dress. Her light golden hair had been glued stiff so it laid down to her shoulders in the shape of a bell.

           The procession was long and stretched all the way back to the palace behind her. Her mother and father walked at her sides. Many more relatives and officials of the city followed.

           The palace gates opened before them and immediately the people of the city began to wail. Guards were already posted along the road on either side. As they walked through the gate, guards fell in beside the royal family and officials.

           She let her tears go. They ran down her face and dripped to the ground. Just in case, tears were painted on her face in black to resemble tears she could no longer shed.

           The sounds of people wailing was a cacophony of noise around her.

           For an hour they walked through the city, then out past the walls and into the desert. Her brother’s throne for the afterlife was far from complete in the Halls of Ohuros. Someday, she would see him again.

           The procession walked along a white marble road to a building in the desert sands. Green trees were around it. White pillars capped with gold stood along the path with linen strung between them to give shade.

           This path led to a hall with a ceiling just as tall as the pillars outside. Wide steps led down into the bowels of the earth. Torches lit the darkness.

           The long rites of passage were completed in half-darkness. It was evening before the procession made its long walk back to the palace.

***

Safira changed, then proceeded to her throne room adjacent to her father’s. She would accept only the most pressing business if there was any.

Eight servants were waiting with bowed heads as she took her seat on her throne.

“Tell me, which of you has the most pressing news?”

One of the servants stepped forward and kneeled without looking up. “Princess, the sword Adhiam has been found.”

She sat forward. “How?

“A traveling swordsman had it in his possession, however, he did not have the sheath. He was found trying to enter the city yesterday evening. The sword has been secured, but not before a guardsman clutched it in his hands and its curse killed him. Even now it is still in his frozen hands.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “Do the people know?”

“We kept the sword and the body under a tarp, but the chill couldn’t be contained. The cart that took it to the armory passed by many commoners. I’m afraid rumors have already spread that the masked swordsman has been finally killed, and many others.”

“Where is the swordsman?”

“Waiting in the palace jails princess. He’s been there for most of the day. Shall I send for him?”

“No,” she felt her anger burn against the man, even if he wasn’t the swordsman who killed her brother. “He can wait. How did he not fall to the curse?”

“He is under an equally powerful curse. He carried a sword with him that burns like the sun. No one has attempted to draw its blade for fear of it. He also bears wounds like those the captains suffered before they died at the hands of Zaim.”

She sat back in her throne. This could mean that the swordsman proved greater than Zaim. He wielded a sword like the sun and bore wounds like the ones that had killed her city’s captains.

The words of prophecy painted on the stone on the pillars of the room caught her eye. With growing dread she read the painted scenes.

Nine stars crowning the head of Akhumet fall

From the east comes a man

He bears a sword like the sun

And a sword of stars

He comes to the city

In ten days it is ruined by flame from the night sky

 Author’s Note: The continuation of Hot Guy Cold Guy is back after some pickaxing at the ole writer’s block! Sincere apologies for those who were waiting for its continuation. As a part of writing I realized I couldn’t sit on a half-finished piece forever. I have to follow through. Many of the writing exercises I have posted will eventually be completed and brushed-up in the future. So look forward to that!

 One technique in getting over writer’s block is “skipping” over the hard part that you can’t get past. That is evidenced in this piece as I want to show some things to the reader but have a hard time tying it together fluidly. So, I show the one part, then narratively skip to the next piece I want to show the readers.

Iron Band Tombstone

Written By: J. Elias Epp

Illustration By: Talros

 The captain watched as the scouts departed from the hanger of the destroyer. Then his eyes looked searchingly at the towering landforms around the spaceship.

He turned to his tactics officer, "How long will this hide the fleet?" he asked in a low voice.

"At most? An hour," she said, "At least? Any moment."

He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Was I wrong to blow the fleet's cover and save that freighter? The whole fleet is in danger now."

"Saving lives is never wrong. Putting more in danger because of it?" She shrugged. “It’s our job to protect our citizens.”

“We can’t protect them if we’re wiped out.” The captain put his glasses back on and looked about the bridge. About half of the officers were busy. The other half sat waiting at their consoles.

They had all seen battle before, but he knew each of their telltale signs of nervousness. A slowly tapping finger, the occasional glance backwards at him and the usually quiet Munitions Officer Sovoy was rambling and spinning off jokes constantly to anyone who would listen.

“We need a plan,” he whispered to his tactics officer.

She responded in an equally low voice, “we’re a highly mobile fleet literally grounded upon a planet and hiding from a far superior force…we’re fish in a barrel as soon as they figure out which barrel we’re in.” She looked up at him from her console. Her eyes met his.

A hint of fear and worry were creeping through her expression, but most of all, he could see it in her eyes.

I’m sorry, he thought.

There’s nothing you could do about it, her eyes responded.

He glanced away but was drawn back to her eyes.

I love you, they said.

I love you too.

“Captain, we have an update on enemy movement from our scouts,” Information Officer Erik said.

He jerked back to his own console. “Go ahead and be quick.”

Sovoy instantly quieted.

A hologram popped up in the middle of the bridge showing the planet they were on in the middle. Triangles of bright blue were their ships clustered together upon the planet’s surface. Triangles of red showed the updated enemy positions. They were spread out amongst the solar system with small groups clustered at each planet, including the one they were on.

“One battlecruiser, two destroyers and a frigate in orbit on the other side, sir,” Erik continued, “estimated time until their scouts run across us is about ten minutes. This planet seems to be their favorite.”

“Geography report.”

The hologram zoomed in on the planet with the blue triangles. Land forms were highlighted.

Analyst Officer Udmun spoke up, “Thick and stiff crust, large landforms due to tectonic upheaval, additional mountains like the ones we’re hiding in are here, chasms of more than ten miles deep are here with caverns and caves splitting off, inland sea here, underground sea accessible via chasms. All ships are submersible.”

“Move the fleet into the chasm as quickly as possible, we need to buy more time. Keep our heads down and unseen.”

The landscape rotated around them as the pilot turned them about. Captain Cadriel caught sight of their light carrier passing by an opening in the landforms.

He rubbed his eyes, they had already been playing cat and mouse for fourteen hours now. He needed some concrete safety for his men and himself. Something that would allow everyone some rest.

The enemy had been making sweeps of the planet for hours. They were narrowing the search down to this spot. However, if he could only pull off completely hiding the fleet, their field of search would widen considerably again.

In the initial battle, saving the freighter had caused the loss of their light battleship at the decision of the Admiral. Also at the decision of the Admiral was for Cadriel to take over command of the fleet.

In terms of chess, their “queen,” the light battleship and the admiral, had been lost to allow for the rest of the fleet to escape. Their king was the light carrier. Also in terms of chess, he had to think how he could win without the queen. It could be done, it was just never as easy.

In comparison, the enemy’s ships were heavy, large, long-distance models designed for long campaigns and sieges. To take down one of their frigates would take two of Cadriel’s own frigates to take it down.

The ship had picked up speed now and the landscape whipped by. Cadriel had to grit his teeth. He was used to the emptiness of space. Flying so close to something was unnerving.

Suddenly, the ship slowed and dropped like a rock into the shadow of a massive chasm. The bridge’s red combat lights glowed in the darkness.

Looking up, Cadriel saw the other ships drop in as well. The hologram pulled up a scan of the chasm and the caves shooting off from it.

“Get all the ships deeper, quick, and not all in one place.”

 If they had time, they could set up an ambush, or make their firing arcs overlap each other. Right now, they needed time and they needed to seed doubt with the enemy.

“Captain,”

Cadriel turned to the Communications Officer.

“The rock of this planet blocks communications, Captain, if we split off, we’ll lose contact with the fleet.”

Cadriel sat back in his chair. A boon and a curse. He pointed to one of the larger cave openings. “Take the fleet into there, leave a stealthed scout probe at every opening and turn in the caves.”

The fleet entered the cave single-file.

Cadriel felt caged now more than ever. He breathed in, “the cave will open up into a cavern,” he told himself. It desperately needed to happen.

The minutes ticked by. The enemy scouts may have already flown over the area by now.

They flew deeper and deeper into the planet’s crust.

Cadriel found himself biting his nails. He forced himself to stop.

Finally, after a sharp turn the tunnel opened into a large cavern. Many tunnels led off from it in all directions.

“We split off here. The light carrier and a destroyer take the largest tunnel away, the two cruisers take the next largest, the other two destroyers split off, the four frigates stay in pairs.” Something caught his notice as more of the cave system’s map filled out from the scanners. “We’ll take this tunnel here, everyone go completely dark once you’ve found a hiding spot, we’ll communicate and update with scout probes in one hour.”

Cadriel pointed at the tunnel they would be hiding in and looked at the pilot. “Back us in.”

The pilot squinted and a few measurements popped up on the display at various points along the tunnel’s length. “Sir, we’ll barely fit.”

Tactics Officer Dawn spoke up. “Sir, that tunnel is, well, figuratively speaking, like hiding right next to an open doorway.”

Cadriel nodded. “Its risky for us, but also risky for the enemy. If anything comes through the door, shoot it. If it steps past the door,” he looked at the pilot, “ram it.”

 Author's Note: Writing a military scifi is something I haven't tried before, especially ship movement and combat. This is the beginning of an idea I have for that. The idea initially came from a weekly micro-story-prompt I do every week off of a random picture I post on Instagram. If you want to follow me there, I'm @jeliasepp on Instagram!

Ara-Era: Caskiri Part 3 (Writing Experiment By: J. Elias Epp Illustration By: (Best Guess) Lockheed Jun Mao (I don’t own any rights to the picture and am only using it for my hobby writing purposes)

He waved to some of the workers who all had their dragons close by helping them out, whether by carting loads of fruit or lumber or chopping through branches with their thick claws or delicately rooting out flowers and roots. “You ready buddy?” Kern asked Mostyn. Mostyn snorted an affirmative and powered himself out of the water and into the air. They lazily flew through the wide gaps between the trunks of trees and hanging vines. The Lariah didn’t have branches below the canopy so there were only wide open spaces between the canopy far above and the undergrowth below. Here and there, there would be a young Lariah trying desperately to grow upwards or a powerful torrent of water breaking through the trees. Under the torrents were often young Lariah that broke the torrent’s fall and scattered its waters. It wasn’t long before they came to a city walled in by tall wooden timbers and sprawling amongst the trunks of the Lariah trees. He landed at the center of the town and let Mostyn go to frolic and play with the other dragons that were there as he himself went towards an all-stone building. “Don’t wreck anything” Kern felt towards Mostyn. “Nor you!” Mostyn replied gleefully. Kern stepped into the building still dripping and was greeted by an older man at a desk. “Kern, what news do you bring from Caskiri?” the man said only glancing up before returning his eyes to the papers out in front of him. The desk was lit by a bonsai Lariah and there were other men and women working at desks and talking amongst each other. This was the place where most of the produce from the falls found itself. Caskiri was currently the capital of Ago-Vlora, the Kingdom of Thunder and also the first city to be created by the falls. “Well Kezun, I am afraid to report that Ara-Era is pushing its demand for more produce this year and they aren’t letting up like last year. They will have their share or things could possibly get ugly.” Kern said solemnly. “But they won’t pay as much as Tacamo, Gwyan or the other countries! We are already doing them a favor by selling them our goods at the prices we are!” Kezun exploded banging his desk. “Do they think we make all our produce out of thin air!” Kezun covered his face with his hands. “I can’t take another cut like this. The king is already demanding that he see some growth from last year. I won’t make it if we take the cut just so Ara-Era doesn’t torch us.” Kern fiddled awkwardly, “I could, uh, I could, um, ah,” he cleared his throat, “take a shipment through the Blue…” Kezun slid his hands off his face and looked at Kern with no hint of amusement on his face. Without responding he set himself back to his paperwork. After a few awkward moments Kern dropped his package of dispatches on the corner of Kezun’s desk and walked out. Everyone was afraid of Ara-Era. Course, they had a right to be. But his country couldn’t survive if Ara-Era continued to bully most of Ago-Vlora’s luxury resources for themselves. The only reason Ago-Vlora was able to survive was its secret deals to the side to other nearby countries. Ara-Era bought their wares at immensely low prices then sold them to other countries for much higher ones. Ago-Vlora had built an air-ship dock at Caskiri and many ships had come to trade at first but that was before the Ara-Erian’s caught wind and began exorbitant taxing of the ships as they passed by the top of the falls. Now only those ships willing to take the risk of trying to sneak past Ara-Era’s constant watch on the updraft came by to trade. Ago-Vlora had attempted sneaking shipments past at night using their own dragons but Ara-Era had torched all who had attempted escape. Shipments trying to travel down the Arnaw were overtaken by Ara-Erian dragon sentries and either forced to pay taxes or burnt to a crisp. It didn’t help that Ara-Era was still sore that Ago-Vlora had broken off from them and declared its independence. In the mind of Ara-Era’s king, Ago-Vlora was still a part of Ara-Era. Kern sighed, and continued his walk towards the marketplace. Mostyn would be hungry after the day’s travel and he had earned a snack for keeping Kern alive through The Boil once more. The other way to this city required at least an entire days journey through the caves that winded their way under the roots of the Lariah to the face of the cliff. His own stomach grumbled and he decided he had earned some steak for his own self. “Mostyn, smell the steak.” Kern said. He waited a few more moments before he felt Mostyn’s presence soar overhead then watched as Mostyn smelled the air, then beelined towards the marketplace and started circling over something. Kern smiled, Mostyn always knew how to find the best steak in the city. “Come quick!” Mostyn felt hungrily. Kern started jogging and soon had to dodge his way through the hustle and bustle of the marketplace before reaching the place Mostyn was circling over. Once he had arrived Mostyn landed on the roof to wait with the other dragons for his food to come up. Meanwhile he hung himself over the edge in his own particular way with his tail wagging watching as Kern walked in. Even then Mostyn hung upside down and looked in the window to watch him. “Sparky dragon you have there,” the butcher at the counter said raising an eyebrow. “He’s a lot of fun,” Kern admitted smiling. “I had better get him a big chunk of meat too or he’ll not be too much fun to deal with later!” That elicited a smile from the butcher and he ordered his apprentice to fetch some flying eel meat up to the roof. “So, what brings a man like you to our humble city?” Kern shrugged, “I’m just a speed courier for his majesty’s business.” The butcher nodded, “What would like for yourself? I hear rumors that Ara-Era might try a move to take us back under its wing.” “Just a steak please, I’ve heard of that rumor too, for years now. What’s come of it? Nothing. Its just nothing is all. People have been saying it just to scare each other.” The butcher nodded again and puckered out his bottom lip. “Yes, that is so. Even if it is all smoke our country can’t take our trade being ruled like this for much longer. We’ll collapse and Ara-Era will be right there to pick up all of the pieces. Oh, your total will be 132 pekas.”’ Kern laid down the money, then an idea came to him. “You know what will make Ara-Era stick their hand in their mouth where it belongs and keep it there?” The butcher smiled amusedly and leaned on his forearms. “And what sir would that golden plan be?” Kern looked the man in the eyes, “Why, a trade agreement with Deneloro of course!”

Author's Note: So ends this writing experiment. I hope you enjoyed it!

Ara-Era Caskiri: Part 2

By: J. Elias Epp

Illustration by: k04sk (on Deviantart)

(I don’t own any rights to the picture and am only using it for my hobby writing purposes)

 Mostyn vigorously shook his head and if a dragon could spit, which they can’t, Mostyn would have.  Instead Mostyn only succeeded in spitting his tongue out making Kern chuckle. 

Kern went to the small stream of water that constantly ran through his room and wetted his hands before going back over to Mostyn and rubbing them on Motyn’s chin and nose.  A slight oil rubbed off onto Kern’s hands making them smell like air and water.  “Now its your turn” Kern said and Mostyn rolled onto his belly as Kern got a rough cloth and quickly cleaned Mostyn’s claws.  Just as he was finishing the last one he surprised Mostyn by tickling him.  Mostyn bucked involuntarily but Kern held on as Mostyn rolled back and forth making what Kern took for a dragon’s laugh.

Kern jumped off and started finishing putting on his gloves and other gear.  Behind him Mostyn shook himself and went to lay down ready to be saddled.

After Kern had gathered his things and secured them tightly in the saddle bags he saddled Mostyn and they started off into the air once again. 

In front and behind Kern as he made his way towards the falls were the townspeople on their dragons flying in the same direction he was.  Its sound grew louder and louder and Kern put cotton in his ears and tied his ear muffed helmet on so the deafening roar wouldn’t hurt his ears.  He also cinched on his goggles for later when things would get really gritty.  The sounds of the wind and callings of the many birds swooping through the air in the early morning became muffled and distant but he could still feel the dull throb of the waterfall.

The waterfall was closer now and even though he was some ways out he was already getting pelted by the mists.  A few of the workers had already turned aside to the terraces but Kern and most of the others continued flying directly towards the waterfall.

As they flew closer and closer the mist turned into a sprinkle, which turned into rain and soon it was a downpour. 

“Well, here we go” Kern heard the feeling from Mostyn.  There, just barely seen through the downpour could be seen islands of green with churning white waters all around them.  The light of the sun was muted because of the mists but it was just enough for a few special plants to grow under the constant torrential rain.  The plants that grew on the cliffs to the sides of the waterfall were more delicate and were watered by the mists and light rains that came off the waterfall but these other plants were an entirely different matter.  Day and night from the moment of their birth they were subjected to a virtual flood and unending weight of water from the waterfall.  Their light was choked by the same waters that attempted to drown them yet still they thrived.

Kern landed on one of the islands barely able to stand the noise of falling water even with his ears plugged and covered.  He could feel the noise beat at his body and shake the bottom of his feet as he slid off of Mostyn’s back and onto the landing platform above the terraced island descending down in the direction of the sun.  Kern could only see a few meters and the first row of grasses on the terrace.  Despite the downpour the grass blades stood straight up and their iridescent leaves glimmered despite the low amount of light.

First thing Kern climbed down the back of the terrace’s stone wall and checked how the structure was doing.  The same iridescent grasses poked out of the cracks and gaps in the stone and when Kern got to the bottom he found the great stones parting the tumultuous waves still intact.  Those stones were vital.  They kept all of the dirt terracing from being washed away.  This island wasn’t like the others.  It was man-made and had to be built with massive stones to keep it from being swept away by the strong current.  It had been built long before Kern’s time and before the times of the oldest descendants they knew of.  The stones were made of Waterstone and were so large it was a wonder how they came to be moved.  All of the other islands had been hewed out of already existing islands of rock and so were well rooted.

Behind and above him he couldn’t see, but he could feel Mostyn intently leaning over the edge of the back of the terrace watching his every move.

After Kern had made sure there were no failures in the structure he returned to the crops and checked on them.  There were only skinny widths of stone to stand on so he had to be careful not to fall off.  The terraces were very steep so the grasses could get full amounts of sunlight without shading each other out.  Kern gently climbed himself back up the narrow stairs and rested beneath Mostyn’s wing.  The pounding waters and noise had already taken their toll on him and he was exhausted.  His days’ work was not over.

He grunted and lifted himself up onto Mostyn’s saddle as Mostyn jumped off the back side of the terrace into the water.  The current tugged at Kern’s legs but he held tight as Mostyn’s eel-like tail beat furiously and his webbed feet worked hard to overcome the current.  Mostyn bobbed up and down with the waves and Kern got sucked under with him a few times but they would always come out on top.  Each time Kern could feel Mostyn become a little worried and feel Mostyn’s shoulders hunch as if to protect Kern.  Kern would reassuringly pat Mostyn when they came back above the water and Mostyn would loosen up.  Soon it was too torrential for reassurances and all Kern could do was hope he had tied himself in the saddle well enough.  The waves kicked them around like a leaf on the wind and Kern had to use every ounce of will not to gulp in water when they were sucked under for longer than usual.  It seemed like forever and the weight of the falling water beat harder and harder each time they would come up for air until it felt like liquid stone was constantly falling on him when it suddenly all let up.

Kern felt Mostyn’s discomfort and he quickly released his death grip around Mostyn’s neck.  Mostyn chortled amusedly as Kern lay on Mostyn’s back exhausted and breathing deeply.  “I don’t have gills like you do buddy,” Kern said between taking gulps of breath.

Kern gathered himself and sat up.  They were drifting on what looked like a lake with a wall of water to their back.  Mostyn was almost playfully bobbing with the waves as he paddled to the shore close at hand making a high pitched gurgle in his throat at the top of each wave.

What shielded them from the waterfall were massive Lariah trees whose upper branches spread far out from their heavy trunks and supported large, thick leaves that created an impenetrable canopy.  In the areas where there were gaps in the canopy were powerful falls that fell through the gap and created rivers that flowed down the hillsides and through the massive roots of the trees.  The Lariah’s leaves softly glowed green since it was summer and gave light into what would otherwise be darkness.  The leaves of vines and undergrowth also glowed in varied colors but their fruits and flowers did not, preferring to hide behind the thick leaves of the bushes and vines.

As they drew closer to the shore, the deafening sound of the waterfall subsided until it was only a gentle throb in the air around them.  Kern thankfully took off his helmet and unplugged his ears.

Kern could see some of the workers harvesting in the undergrowth while others trimmed and harvested select branches from the Lariah for their wood, perhaps the hardest, heaviest wood in all the world.

Ara-Era Caskiri    

By: J. Elias Epp

Illustration: Owned by Producers of Final Fantasy

(I don’t own any rights to the picture and am only using it for my hobby writing purposes)

 The lights of the city of Caskiri glowed faintly in the early dawn through the cloudy mists of the Arnaw waterfall.  The houses of Caskiri were hewed from the very stone of the cliff and only their windows could be seen on the outside.  On the inside, the doors to the houses opened up into a large water-carved cave with a stream flowing down the middle of its elegantly long and curving passage through the mountain and exited some miles away in a waterfall of its own.  This waterfall did not reach the ground but dissipated into mist and clouds. 

The end to the Arnaw waterfall could not be seen as it stretched away into the horizon and fell with a greater roar than thunder to the sea miles below.  Though Caskiri was a mile away from the falls the rumble of the water could still be felt in the stone and its dull throbbing sound burbled down the underground river cave.  The lowering line of dawn caught the first dark eyes of the village’s face and it began to wake.  Closer to the falls the dawn revealed steep terracing where the cliff’s sheer face gave way to sloping ground before sharply returning to its downward plunge.  The mists from the waterfall constantly poured down on this terracing and on the plants that grew there. Small trees grew on the terracing with large leaves that formed a thick canopy.  Beneath the shelter of the trees grew delicate blue grasses whose heads resembled fluffy clouds and the stocks resembled the green swathes of land below a blue sky.  In the gaps between the trees were nestled large-leaved bushes with lush blue gold fruits ensconced in leafy cradles soaking all the moisture they could from the constantly falling rain of water.  On some of the trees unharvested brilliant purple flowers could still be seen, their vibrant deep color in stark contrast with the leaves and grey mists around them.

Away from the terraces and waterfall something stirred in the opening of a cave by the village, caught by the first rays of the sun.  A youth strode into the light at the mouth of the cave and looked out upon the world still dark far below him.  He let the wind tease his hair and the sun warm his face.  Another grand day.  The whistle and blowing of the wind buffeted him and seemed to harmonize with the deep throbbing beneath his boots from the waterfall.  He was going to enjoy staying dry and warm before another day of soaking wet had to pass yet again.  The last of the Sorethyst flowers had to be harvested and processed before the week was out or they would lose their pristine value.  Well, it wouldn’t be too hard if they didn’t experience any setbacks.

Something rustled behind him and he smiled; time to give his dearest friend a shocking wake up call.  He hadn’t had one for a few weeks and another was in order.  Kern Veda smiled as he stepped off the ledge and fell.  Behind him he felt the sharp awakening and panic of his friend Mostyn and heard the first sounds of frantic clawings of talons on stone before the sound of the wind quickly grew to a deafening roar.  Even through the sound of the wind he could still feel the dull deep throb of the waterfall.

He quickly righted himself and plunged headfirst, guiding himself with his arms and legs to dodge what trees and fauna had found grip on the cliff.  He twirled left, then right, and left again.  The thrilling rush of falling and the cliff whipping by only feet away only heighted his feeling of being chased and being the chaser at the same time as he closed in on the dawn’s light as it slipped down the cliff’s face.  He could see the lights of another cliff-side village pass by his left and caught a glimpse of someone taking flight. 

The edge of light was in sight now, so close he felt he could reach out and touch it.  Suddenly, behind him he heard the sound of wind rushing over wings and talons.  He dodged and twirled to his left just as claws snatched where he had just been.  He splayed his arms and legs and watched as Mostyn whisked by with wings folded against his side and outstretched claws already being tucked back against his body.  Mostyn snapped his wings open and slowed trying to catch Kern on his back.  Kern could nearly reach the line of sun where the darkness still lingered.  Kern tried dodging and succeeded in avoiding a collision with Mostyn’s wing and thought he was home free when Mostyn deftly grabbed Kern by sharply turning on his side and snatching at him with his claws.  Kern reached out his hand and nearly broke the line of light on the rock with his own shadow.  Kern’s vision whirled then straightened as Mostyn slowed and started pumping his wings to fly into the Blue’s updraft that would take them back up so they could start their day’s work.

Mostyn whuffed smugly.  “You won’t be so smug when I finally beat you one day!” Kern said trying to shift in his uncomfortable position in Mostyn’s clutches.

Mostyn simply laughably warbled in his throat as Kern chuckled.  Mostyn was gripping him on the verge of being squeezed.  Kern grunted, “could you let up?  I can barely breathe!”  Mostyn responded by swinging Kern back and forth beneath him.  Kern laughed and was about to start playfully beating on Mostyn’s claws when he felt Mostyn’s heartbeat pulsing rapidly.  Mostyn was not only squeezing Kern with his claws but was also squeezing him against his leathery body and Kern could easily feel his pulse. 

Kern quieted down and looked up at his friend.  Was that a hint of worry that he felt under the playfulness?  Kern felt a slight itching pain on his side and he looked down at himself.  Mostyn’s talons had nicked him when he was grabbed.  Mostyn was always very careful whenever they wrestled or roughhoused and Kern didn’t remember a time that he had been nicked.  So, Mostyn hadn’t grabbed at him playfully?  But Kern hadn’t even come close to hitting the ground that was still thousands of feet away.  But it was no mistake, Mostyn had been truly worried for him.  The realization came to Kern and he slumped in Mostyn’s clutches ashamedly.

Both kept quiet as they ascended and finally came to a rest in the cave that served as Mostyn’s stable.  Kern dismounted and started mounting Mostyn’s saddle.  He cast a questioning look at the dragon and Mostyn responded with sensations of trees and darkness and pain from running into something in the dark.  Now Kern understood.  There were trees that grew out from the cliff.  It would be foolish to try a stunt that Kern did every now and then without the ability to see what was coming, especially when he was falling at the speeds he was.

He walked over and reassured the still quivering Mostyn by hugging him and telling him he was sorry.  After this Mostyn seemed to calm down and forgive him and Kern went right to work saddling him up and getting his own gear together.  Kern’s apparel were leather boots strapped tight, leather britches strapped tight over the tops of the boots, a jerkin strapped tight over the top of the britches, a leather jacket with a tight, high collar and tight sleeves, leather gauntlets tied tight over the sleeves of the jacket, and a leather helmet of sorts with earmuffs, a wide brim and a large back flap.   A shadow brushed over the cave opening, then shortly after another.  Everyone else was already heading off to finish the harvest.

Mostyn came over to Kern and nuzzled him.  Kern smiled and petted him then took both his hands and gently pried Mostyn’s mouth open and looked at his teeth.  Still healthy.  Mostyn pulled away and made sounds as if he were trying to hack something out of his throat. 

“Oh come on! My hands are clean!”

  Author’s Note:

This is part of an exploration writing I did for a place in my fantasy world as well as an idea I had for the interaction between a person and a dragon and how to write that in a story. The dragon-rider trope has been done so many times that it is difficult to think up one’s own spin and twist on it to make it something unique. However, it continues to be a popular trope in stories. A dragon is power for a character, like wielding a sword, however, that power is sometimes fickle as the dragon has some degree of free will. The basic premise of dragon riding is “relationship with weapon” or “your weapon has a personality.” Weapons with personality show up a lot in anime such as Bleach. Anyway, enough of my ranting. I’ve been thinking of starting a blog on my writing philosophy, knowledge and journey but still need to make time for the rest of my writing as well.

Yuko paced back and forth in a grove of dried-up trees near the city.

“What am I going to do?” he asked no one in particular. He paced for a bit longer then kicked a dried stick out of his way. “I just ran from this place! Now I’m back?!”

He sighed and sat down on a dry stump. “I must be cursed.”

The sun was setting, painting the sandstone sides of the city into an orange-red shade. Far off in the hazy distance near the horizon, rain clouds drifted lazily over the western side of the city. Near that area was a vibrant green stripe across the landscape where trees hugged a large river.

Yuko searched the length and breadth of the city’s walls and buildings. “I don’t think I can face you again Kalia.”

The sun slowly fell below the horizon, its light brushing the tops of the buildings for a few minutes before leaving the city in shadow.

Yuko stood and carefully approached the city. Dusk was the best time for sneaking.

It pained him, but he knew exactly where he was going. The city’s springs used to flow into a now-dry streambed not two weeks ago. Those springs were the only reason the city came this far out into the desert.

Yuko picked his way along the streambed. Drifts of sand obscured parts of it but he found his way. A cool night breeze picked up and rustled his hair.

He crouched and crawled along the ground out of sight of the wall. He never tried to peek out at it. A guard would surely see the movement.

Yuko made sure to keep his bearing, using the light of the Western Star to guide him through the many offshoots of the rambling streambed.

By the time the sky was fading from blue to purple and the second star could be seen in the night, Yuko crouched at the streambed’s turning point under the city wall.

He was lying down behind the streambed’s bank. The wall was only a sprint away at this point. It wasn’t a very tall wall. At this point in the city it was about five arm spans. Still too tall for Yuko to climb but that was beside the point. He was a horrible climber anyway.

The faint scrape of guard’s feet on stone reached his ear. Two of them. They spoke in low tones and then started walking again.

If only he could sneak through the stream’s iron grating in the wall, he could deal with anything else in the city. It was the way he had escaped the city, he should be able to make his way back through.

 Yuko allowed himself a single, quick peek. The guardsmen were walking in opposite directions. He waited until their footsteps grew distant, then crawled as quietly as he could over the sandy parts of the streambed.

He could almost feel their eyes. Any guard on the wall looking down would be able to see him right now.

He stopped and listened. His panting was too loud so he held his breath. He could hear the footsteps stopping just over the sound of his heart beating in his ears.

He frantically looked around. He should be in shadow, but he didn’t trust it. There, just a short ways away, only twenty paces from the wall was an overhang the bank of the stream created. He scrambled for it and slid under. As he did so, he accidentally kicked a stone and it clattered across the other rocks of the streambed.

Yuko pushed himself as far back under the overhang as possible, but too late he realized how shallow the overhang was. The shadows of dusk had played a trick on him.

           “Hey! I think I saw something!”

           Footsteps came towards Yuko.

           He stayed as still as possible. Movement now would only confirm the guard’s suspicions.

           “Yeah? You sure it wasn’t a rat-dragon like last time?”

           “It looked bigger, down there, in the dry streambed.”

           Silence.

           Out of the corner of his eye, Yuko could see the two guardsmen with their torches atop the wall.

           “Hmmm, I don’t see it. Where did you see it?”

           “Eh, hard to say. About thirty paces from the wall.”

           More silence.

           “Well, I’ll go get a torch to throw down there.”

           “Here, I’ll just use mine.”

           Yuko held his breath.

           The flaming torch was thrown from the wall. It sailed through the air and Yuko lost sight of it for a moment. He heard it land somewhere on the ground behind him.

           Yuko let out a tense breath. It hadn’t landed in the streambed.

           “You dolt! I oughta smack you.”

           “What?! I’d like to see you throw half as good!”

           “No, I’m going to go get us two more torches is what I’m going to do.”

           Footsteps leaving.

           Yuko risked moving his head. One guard with a torch was leaving, the other without a torch was walking after him.

           Yuko took the chance and quickly started crawling on his belly in the shadow of the streambed.

           “Come on! Just throw your torch down there!”

           Yuko scrambled to all fours, pacing himself in a low jog so as to not to make too much noise.

           “I’m not going to stub my toe like you do all the time! Stay and watch will you?”

           “Fine, fine.” Footsteps walking back.

           Yuko tip-toed the last few steps to the small grate. He resisted a sigh of relief.

           Not moments later, the other guard came back and landed a torch smack-dab into the streambed.

           Yuko shook his head and turned to squeeze his small frame through the grate. He was awarded with a bump on the head. He gritted his teeth against yelling an obscenity.

           He felt between the iron bars, confused, then realization dawned on him. The iron grate had been blocked up with rocks. There was no easy way into the city anymore.

 Note from the Author:

This last part was fun and challenging for me. Not only did I want to create tension with Yuko sneaking into the city, but I also wanted to reveal a little of his backstory. I had to answer the question of “Yuko came from this direction, wouldn’t he have been in this city? And why wouldn’t he want to go back?”

Grave Digger: Part 2: Part 2

By: J. Elias Epp

Illustration By: Bjarke Pedersen

(I don’t own any rights to the picture and am only using it for my hobby writing purposes)

            The shore is near. He grabs at the bouncing bundle on the donkey’s back frantically. He pulls free the pickaxe.

He did not face them with fire or sword

In the distance he saw his savior

           A wolf snarls just behind him. He nearly falls as it jumps on his back. His cloak keeps the wolf’s fangs from tearing out his throat. Sliding, he twists and flings the wolf to the ground.

In one motion he brings the pick down. The wolf yelps and breaths its last.

A wolf jumps at the donkey’s back. The donkey kicks both hind legs into its body. The wolf flies through the air and lands with a thump.

The remaining five wolves keep their distance, snarling and baring their fangs. He raises his pick.

Cracks spread in the ice below them. Their sound is piercing and deep. The ice is thinner by the shore.

He takes a careful step back. The donkey keeps close. The wolves keep pace in a crouch.

He hailed the last champion of his people

The last and greatest to survive

           A wolf leaps.

           He swings the pick and misses, embedding the point in the ice. Cracks burst out from the impact. The wolf bites his arm.

           He yells and lets go of the pick.

           Three wolves jump upon the donkey. It bucks and thrashes them off. Its hooves pound the ice.

           The last wolf runs at him and he kicks at it. He slips and falls. The wolf biting his arm lets go and scrambles out from under him.

           The ice breaks under the donkey. It keeps its front hooves upon the ice. A wolf falls into the widening pool and scratches its claws against the sides.

The enemies chased close behind him

The champion answered not

           The pack of gold upon the donkey’s back begins to slide off.

           He pulls the pick free and swings it in an arc around him. The wolves back off.

           Two of the wolves scramble out of the water and shake themselves off.

           He turns and takes a few steps towards the donkey. The sound of claws behind him betray the wolves’ intention.

           He spins and takes another in the side. It yelps over and over as it retreats into the forest.

           Loud cracking sounds beneath his feet. He quickly falls prone.

           The wolf attacks. He kicks it.

           More cracking beneath him.

           The wolves’ ears perk up. They back away from him.

He offered gold, jewels and many riches

The champion stood still and silent

           He scrambles on all fours and leaps for the donkey. The ice breaks beneath him. He falls into freezing waters.

           His hands and feet go numb. He resurfaces and sputters.

           He swims to the donkey. The donkey still clings to the side. The gold is pulling it down.

           With numb hands he opens a sack and pulls out gold. He flings it on top the ice.

           The donkey falls off the side and begins to sink.

           He goes with it. The dark waters close above their heads.

           With the light of the moon through the water, he finds the tie in the rope. He pulls on it hard. The rope comes free. The gold sacks fall into the depths.

He threw the riches to the ground

His first enemy overtook him

           He and the donkey swim to the surface.

He gasps when he reaches the surface.

           He hauls himself up onto the ice. He shivers uncontrollably.

           The donkey gains foothold and climbs back up. It shakes itself off and trembles.

           He forces himself to stand. He rubs himself and staggers towards the forest. He fumbles in his pocket for flint and steel.

           He stumbles up the bank to the first tree. The donkey follows after.

           The wolves begin to gather again.

           He strikes the tender to the dry pine needles beneath the tree.

           Growls behind him.

           He strikes again. The flint falls from his numb hands.

His enemies struck him where he stood

They held no mercy for him

           He picks up the flint again. Again he strikes the steel to the flint. Sparks light upon the needles.

           A wolf draws too near. The donkey kicks, slips and falls. The wolf limps away.

           The other wolves are hungry. They approach. He turns to face them.

           A tongue of flame lights the night. The fire gives the wolves pause.

           It grows larger. The wolves growl.

           The fire licks up a branch and sets it ablaze. The wolves back slowly away.

           He stands as near the fire as he can. His whole frame trembles. He can barely feel the heat.

           The wolves keep their distance as the fire grows larger and engulfs the tree.

           He regains feeling in his hands, a painful tingling. He pulls off his clothes and sets them aside to dry. The fire dries his skin.

  Author’s Note:

I’m finding that this second part of this short story is much longer than the first. Likely, it will be longer than the third too. However, I’m writing this semi-organically. I’ve done a rough sketch of where I want the story to lead, however, I’m keeping it as open as possible at the same time. Kind of like building a skyscraper. Before giving a building a visible form, its bones are built first.