Tag Archives: fantasy

The Librarian’s Code, Part 2

06 Friday Nov 2015

Posted by in NaNoWriMo, The Librarian's Code

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“Mark, it can’t be the fae,” I argued, despite myself. “We’d have seen more. It would have been obvious earlier.”

Mark just shrugged. “Rach, half the bookshelf is missing and there aren’t that many creatures that are that sneaky.”

“Not that sneaky?” I asked, “Have you read Witchcraft and Brooms? Hobgoblins and Gnomes? Creatures of Smoke?”

“Gnomes and Hobgoblins are still fae, Rachael. In fact, every book on the fae is missing.”

I sighed. If he was right, then we were in trouble. The fae were tricky things and their goals were rarely obvious. If he was wrong… Then the book was probably missing off the shelf already, and I’d forgotten what it contained.

“Where is Amber now?” I demanded. Mark pointed out of the room.

“She was hiding in the bathroom last I checked. She may have been persuaded to come out by now, but you scared her pretty badly.”

“I am not evil,” I grumbled, “Come on, we need to go talk to her.”

“And ask what? ‘Hey Amber, are you under a glamour?’”

“Well, we need to ask her something!” I said, striding between the rows. “We need to get those books back and it’s not happening staring around at the empty shelves.”

“Maybe we should get Kelcie then,” Mark said. He was struggling to keep up with my long legs, but I didn’t bother to slow down for him. “She is the expert on glamours.”

“Kelcie has been out all month with a broken arm,” I said. Not that I couldn’t still call her in. If Mark was right about all this I’d probably need to. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that though.

Mark bit his lip. “Could that be relevant? Maybe the fae specifically went out to disable our glamour specialist before they-”

“She was walking the dog,” I cut in. “Come on, we can’t afford to go assuming every coincidence is a plot.”

“If we’re dealing with the fae,” Mark said, “we can’t afford not to.”

I gave him a dirty look before pushing open the bathroom door.

Amber jumped to her feet as soon as I walked in, wiping at her face with a scrap of kleenex. “Hi Rachael, Mark,” she stammered.

“Amber, I need to ask you some quick questions,” I said, a little too forcefully. Mark punched me lightly in the arm but Amber just nodded.

“Question one. What is this book?”

I held up the red leather book that I hadn’t even bothered to reshelve. Amber licked her lips nervously as she looked at it.

“It’s one of the books in the section 11. It’s on loan from the Falconer family and should not be lent out,” she recited. I recognized my own words from earlier in the day. Had I really scared her that much?

“Well, good,” I muttered. “Question two. What did you think it was when you lent it out?”

Amber mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?” I asked. Amber didn’t speak up any louder the second time. I sighed loudly only to get punched even harder by Mark. “What?” I snapped.

“No wonder everyone is claiming you’re salty these days,” Mark said. I glowered at him but leaned back into the wall.

“Fine, your turn then.” He put out his hand for the book and I passed it over, crossing my arms.

“Amber, we aren’t angry with you,” Mark began. Amber gave me a hesitant glance out of the corner of her eye and Mark sighed in frustration. “Rachael isn’t mad-”

“Yes she is,” I interjected, netting myself a dirty look from Mark.

“-Rachael isn’t mad, she’s just worried,” he continued, still meeting my eyes. “And taking it out on you, I might add.”

I frowned, breaking the gaze first.

Mark continued on. “She just needs to hear what you thought this books was when you lent it out.”

Amber’s lower lip quivered slightly as she spoke, making her words wobble in the middle. “I thought it was a book of fairy tales.”

“But why would you think that?” I blurted out. “We just went through the training! How did they even get the book out of the restricted section?”

Amber burst out into tears again as Mark glowered at me. I looked away, trying to burn a hole in the corner of the bathroom.

“She does raise some valid points though, Amber,” Mark said diplomatically. “Your initiation training was two days before you checked this out. Did you not recognize the book? How did you even check it out?”

Amber’s voice wavered. “I don’t know. I remember someone asking me for one of the books in the back and he pointed through the gate and described it. And I remember thinking how odd it was that we had childrens’ books back there. So I went back and grabbed it.”

“How did you check it out?” Mark pushed. Amber shook her head.

“I don’t remember.”

“Do you remember what the person looked like?” He asked. Amber just shook her head again. “Was he wearing anything distinctive? Interesting piece of jewelry, a funny t-shirt? A suit?”

Amber almost shook her head again, then paused. “He had a brooch in the shape of a stylized leaf.”

“Could you draw it?” Mark asked. When Amber nodded he grabbed a paper towel off the wall, passing it towards her with a pen. Amber quickly doodled the shape onto the towels. I leaned over to look at it as she drew. It was a oak leaf, I was pretty sure, despite her shaky hand. It wasn’t the most artistic leaf I had ever seen, but it was obvious enough. Over it she crossed it with a sketchily drawn feather. I didn’t recognize the symbol off hand, but I was sure it had been in one of the books. That book was now likely missing. Mark’s paranoia was already wearing off on me.

It’s only paranoia if he’s wrong. I reminded myself, seeing the image Amber had drawn. Mark’s lips pursed as he inspected the paper towel that she handed him.

“This is all you remember?” he asked. Amber nodded. Mark passed the paper towel to me and I folded it carefully. “Do you at least remember how you checked it out?”

“No,” she said, rubbing her eyes and nose with her cuff. “I didn’t even remember I’d done it until it came back in. And I didn’t remember why it was a big deal until Rachael yelled at me.”

“I didn’t yell,” I muttered, looking at the paper towel so I wouldn’t have to see Mark’s disapproval. I could still feel it in my peripheral vision though.

“And then what happened?” Mark asked, still glowering.

“I finally looked at the book and realized what it was,” Amber said. “I did listen in the training, Rachael.”

I hurrumphed at the girl, neither approving nor disapproving.

“Sort of like you were purposefully ignoring it before and it suddenly came into focus?” Mark asked.

“Yeah,” she replied.

Mark sighed. “We need to call in Kelcie, Rachael.”

I nodded in agreement.

“One last question, Amber,” I said. She looked at me expectantly. “Were there any other books missing when you grabbed this one.”

Amber’s hand flew to her mouth. “Yes… Plenty.”

I sighed, thrusting the paper towel into my pocket. “Stop looking at me like that, Mark. You know I hate when you’re right.”

The Grimoire of Mystery

29 Monday Sep 2014

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So, I’ve been distracted as far as blog-worthy writing goes for the past two weeks.  It’s not that I haven’t been writing, but instead, I’ve been working on a bit of a Choose your Own Adventure story on Reddit, in the /r/WritingPrompts community.  If you’re interested, the story starts here but for obvious reasons, I can’t really re-post it here easily.

It’s gotten pretty long so far, even though it’s not yet finished. I’m pretty proud of it so far.

Nightfall

22 Friday Aug 2014

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The monster would come at nightfall, they told her. At the moment when the sun just touched the ocean outside, and the horizon turned green. It wouldn’t be long now, Katrina knew. The sun filtered into the observatory at a harsh angle, barely a hand’s width away from the edge of the water and turning her hair as red as the dress they’d put her in. Not much longer now.

The flat stone floor was still wet from the morning’s high waves, but she ignored it, sinking to her knees as the cold seeped through the thin dress. Bowing her head, she started to pray.

Not to the old gods, they’d already failed. Praying to them had been the first thing her people had tried, and look where it had brought them. To the point of human sacrifices every new moon. No, they would get no more prayers from her, and no more tears.

To new gods then. To gods who would bring back the happiness and joy. To gods that would stop the drought, stop the fires and bring back the rains. To gods who would reassure her parents that her death wasn’t in vain, reassure her sisters that they wouldn’t be next. And maybe, just maybe, gods that would save her. She was so deep in prayer she barely noticed the sun slipping past the edge of the world, or the darkness that engulfed her.

The footsteps on the stone steps however, those broke her out of her trance. She whipped around to see a young man climbing the steps to the room, silhouetted against the dying light of the sunset.

“You aren’t a monster,” she blurted out before quickly covering her mouth with her hand. The man chuckled as he approached.

“Are you certain about that?” he asked as he reached the top step. It was then that she noticed his long, scaled tail as it flicked over the steps, wrapping around one of the pillars. She lowered her hand in horror.

“What are you?” She whispered. The man just laughed more as he crossed the floor towards her, holding out a hand towards her. She placed her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet.

“I suppose,” he said as he guided her towards the ocean, “You could say I’m a new god, looking to find a disciple.”

The Paladin

30 Monday Jun 2014

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Art by Kim Sokol

A failure. That’s what she was, Arianna knew. Yesterday, everything had seemed so clear to her as she lined up with the other volunteers. It hadn’t seemed to matter that her armour was crude and her sword a hand-me-down from her father, their mission was clear and simple. Protect the town from the army that was coming across the land. But now that same army streamed past Arianna as she dragged her broken body into the safety of the church.

The first report had come in a few days ago, carried by the Mackenzie boys on a nearly dead horse. They talked about a great wave of black crashing over the countryside, leaving flames in their wake. The youngest boy even talked about goblins and demons in their midst. It sounded like bedtime stories to Arianna at the time, and she’d completely dismissed it as such. Her father had told stories of armies passing before, and the destruction they could cause while looking for food and supplies. Discourage them, he urged, but don’t give them cause to attack. The mayor had called for a volunteer army to defend the town, and come they had, armed with family heirlooms and farm equipment. They just need to look intimidating, and with much luck, the army would leave. Arianna regretted that she had ignored the boy now as she stared at the red glow filtering in through the broken church windows.

The reports had changed as more refugees came in, more talk of demons with small, twisted bodies. Some people had run, fearing the rumours, but the Captain of the guard was confident as he walked up and down the lines of his new army. He told them they were strong, and army was weak. They would soon leave to easier conquests, leaving the town intact. But now Arianna watched the town burn through the church window as she dragged her broken leg to a bench, blood streaming from her arm. A failure, through and through.

She could hear screams behind her as the the demons hauled another person into the streets. Was that Ms Grayson from the schoolhouse? She wasn’t sure any more, the screams were all starting to sound the same. She pulled her broken sword into her lap and stared up at the church’s ceiling.

“Well God, now what?” she asked plainly, watching bright spots swim past her eyes. The church air hung silently in response, at odds with the screams from outside.

“NOW WHAT?!” She yelled into the heavy air, clenching her fist around the hilt of her shattered sword, hastily shoved back in it’s scabbard. “You’re supposed to be good. You’re supposed to love us! Is this how you show love, with an army of demons?” Her cries echoed off the altar, bouncing back to her as twisted as the army.

“An army of demons,” the echo said mockingly. A scream from outside pierced the echo, and Arianna’s vision blurred beneath tears. Her head throbbed as she broke down, her anger fading to a whisper.

“They’re killing my family, and here I am. A failure to the end. I’m sorry.” She hung her head as the bright spots swam in her vision, growing wings as they danced through the dust motes. She watched the bright doves frolic through the empty church, struggling to make sense of them through a haze of pain. Their glow slowly faded as their message became clear, and the three doves flew out the church door just as the first goblin came in.

Arianna stood up to meet them. Gone was the pain of her leg, gone was the uncertainty. She walked forward to meet the demons proudly, drawing her whole and glowing sword from its scabbard. Now they would taste her fury.

Abandoned

24 Tuesday Jun 2014

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Jillian sat at the kitchen table, math homework in front of her, watching the bright green tractor riding up and down the fields. The dark ground behind the tractor stood out in sharp contrast against the winter grey soil of the field, slowly preparing the whole field for the new corn seeds. Half the field was already black as the tractor worked its way back and forth like a typewriter on the field. It wasn’t until the tractor momentarily vanished behind a dilapidated house in the middle of the field that Jillian broke out of her out of her trance. She turned to stare down at the math paper, only to be confronted by swimming numbers and symbols. She sighed deeply, turning her gaze back to the abandoned old house.

“Mom, why do we have that house in the middle of the field anyways?” She turned to the other woman in the kitchen, her hands covered in flour up to the elbows as she kneaded a loaf of bread. Her mother looked up at her startled, broken out of her own trance.

“What was that, Jilly? The old house?” She quickly glanced out the window herself.

“Yeah, why’s it there? None of the other farms have broken down old homes in the field.”

Her mother gave her a sharp glance. “Don’t you have homework to be doing?” she asked. Jillian covered the offensive numbers with her sleeve, hoping to look casual.

“I’m almost done.” she lied. “Come on, there has to be a story here.”

Her mother fixed her with a steely gaze as she shaped the dough into loaves, covering them with a dish towel. “I suppose you have been working hard. You see, that house used to belong to your great grandmother, Jilly, your dad’s Nona. His Poppa made the house for her when they were married, as a wedding gift, but he died when your dad was still young. He was in a terrible car accident, with his daughter and her husband in the back seat. It left Nona to take care of their children and farm herself. And she did it too, though the farm was much smaller back then. She used to pick the corn herself with your Dad strapped to her back, and Uncle Todd and Auntie Eda following behind her with wagons full of corn.”

Jillian looked out at the house with it’s dirty white siding in the field. “So why don’t we still live out there then?” she asked. Her mother shrugged.

“Well, when I married your father, your aunt surprised us both by buying this half of the farm and your uncle built us a home over here. That house was a little small for us all. Nona insisted on staying over there though, said she had no place in a new couple’s home. She stayed out there until one night, a fire started. It didn’t get a chance to do much damage, but Nona was old… She had that cough the rest of her life…”

Jilly’s mom trailed off to silence as she looked out the window. After a few seconds, she seemed to shake it off and continued her story. “Anyway, we talked about just tearing it down a few times, but it’s just hard. It still feels like her when you go inside. So we left it.” Her mother leaned over the counter, tapping the math papers with her finger. “Now back to work. Nona didn’t raise any slackers, and I don’t plan on it either.”

Jillian cut across the cornfields on her way home, backpack weighed down with heavily with books. The tiny corn plants were sprouting all through the field by now, but Jillian had eyes only for home as she trudged along. She passed by the ancient farmhouse, just in time to hear the old structure let out a loud creak. It sent a chill down her spine as she stopped in her tracks, turning to give the old building another look. It let out a second creak under her gaze, with the faint song of chimes in the wind.

A bush had sprouted up in the door well, but the doorknob turned easily as Jillian slipped into inside. Sunlight streamed in through the broken windows, illuminating the small wind chimes that hung from scorched frames. The chill ran back up her back and out her arms as she took in the blackened walls and dusty rugs. Jillian licked her lips nervously, before forcing a smile onto her face.

“Hello Nona,” she said into the empty space, pulling a notebook out of her backpack. “My dad said you used to be pretty good at math. I was wondering if you could help me out.”

A breeze blew through and sent the windchimes dancing again. Feeling a little foolish, Jillian sat down with her notebook on the floor. The numbers were still there, still teasing her with their silly notation. But she almost thought she could see a pattern forming. Maybe with a few tweaks and nudges…

As she worked through the math problems in her notebook, Jillian barely noticed the faint sound of a cough.

One Touch of Nature

13 Friday Jun 2014

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The circle was smaller this year, Marrissa noted. Previous years had seen dozens of people crammed into the clearing about the fire, jostling to hear the tales that the campfire brought, but this year only 20 people had come. Even her own tribe had sent only a few representatives, the rest of the survivors had been too scared to come. Not that she blamed them, the rumours were out that the Dark Ones had been seen again, for the first time in a decade, and no one wanted to risk a large gathering. But Marrissa felt the Fire Circle was too important to skip. Information was too preciously rare these days to skip passed on rumours and hearsay.

“Good evening, my Friends,” said the Speaker as the last of the sun vanished from the grove. The circle had formed, the fire already built to a crackling roar. “I see we have fewer guests this year than normal. I hope we will make up for that this year in our stories.” A warm murmer went up from the crowd as the Speaker gestured to the woman on his right. She stepped into the circle of light, the fire revealling a woman who Marrissa guessed to be forty years old. Her brown hair was pulled back to reveal a well-tanned face with creases worn deep around her eyes.

“Good evening,” she began. “I wish I came here with better stories to tell, but unfortunately my news is quite grave. You see, my tribe lives to the north, out past the river. And we fear that the Elements have awakened again.” A deep murmur went up from the crowd, yet no one spoke as the woman continued. “It started out slowly, the river was swelling. It was to be expected, after the winter we had. But then a few weeks later, three of the children went down to the river to do laundry… And only two returned. One was my own son, he says they were splashing each other when they saw a man in dark robes on the opposite shore. He says they all turned and ran, but Billy never made it back to camp. When we went back to look, there was nothing but a shoe caught in the river rocks.” The woman bite her lip nervously. “By the time I left to come here, the river was flooding over our bridge. I only hope it has not washed away entirely by now.” The woman fell back from the circle in nervous silence as the Speaker rubbed her back. The next person stepped forward, a rugged youth who looked barely sixteen.

“My story is also a bad news. There have been tremors in the west again. Our west most pastures fell into the abyss over the winter. Luckily, no one was injured, but the tremors are growing stronger each week…”

The night continued as the skies got darker, dark clouds rolling in to block out the star. With each passing story, Marrissa grew more and more worried. If the Dark Ones were waking the elements again, there would be nothing they could do again but to watch all their hardwork vanish again. And it did seem that way, with forests running rampant and more flooding. One particularly long traveller even spoke of storms and tornadoes rolling in from the east. She relished the good news as best she could, clinging to the news of new babies being born or couples being married, until it was her turn.

She stepped forward into the warmth as the light revealed her skinny arms sticking out of her too-short sweater, matchstick legs poking out beneath a thin skirt bleached white from the sun.

“Good Evening, Friends,” she said, holding her arms close to her body. “My tribe does not have much news this year, I’m sorry. I brought an offering though, for the feast.” She pulled off her backpack as she spoke, rummaging through it. “I came up from the south, through the fire-swept lands. The forest seems to be recovering still, the new trees are still growing. And it was there that I found this.” She pulled from her bag a large, pink egg, the size of an ostrich egg, and held it up to the circle. The crowd muttered in admiration as she held it high. She took a step towards the feast table, but her foot caught a root, sending her tumbling.

Instinctively, she curled about the egg, trying to shield it while avoiding the roaring fire beside her. It nearly worked too, she thought as she lay on the ground beside the fire with her knees and palms stinging, watching the intact egg beside her delicately roll into the firepit, just out of reach. She started to push herself to her feet when the fire pit exploded in a blaze of pure white. She dropped to the ground shielding her eyes as the heat washed over her, singing the hairs that stood straight up on her body. Through cracked eyes she watched as a bolt of lightning arced into the sky, splintering off in a thousand directions like a tree growing in fast forward.

It lasted only a moment, but Marrissa stared blindly at the sky for long after, the image still burned into eyes as the dark soil cooled her burned back. As her vision returned, she slowly sat up, taking in her surroundings. The people had all fled, leaving nothing but her and the charred fire pit. The ground about the firepit smoldered slightly, but her eyes were drawn to the form in the fire. There, though the fire still burned about it, stood a crimson bird, the size of a hawk. Blue patterns traced over it’s wings an long tail feathers as flames danced over it body. Marrissa gasped, pushing herself away from the fire as it advanced towards her, a curious tilt to its head. The fires lingered about it’s body, dying away slowly, until at last it stood before her as if it knew her. She raised her arm in front of her face as it flew at her, turning her face away from it’s powerful beak, but the pain she expected didn’t come.

When she opened her eyes, the bird sat on her arm like it belonged there, its plumed tailfeathers trailing to the ground. She stared at the bird in shock as she realized this time, the Awakening would be different.

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Across the River

10 Tuesday Jun 2014

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Inspired by this art by Iardacil on Deviantart

The Florende river defined the border between the human town and the elven lands. Near town, it looked almost peaceful as it wove its way through the pastures, but Matthew knew it was just a clever disguise for the cold, deep waters that raced their way to the ocean. The river had already claimed two of his sheep this year, dragging them into the crack so quickly their bodies had never been recovered. He was guiding the sheep away from the deceptively greedy maw of the river when he saw her.

She stood on the wrong side of the river, her back to the pine trees that lined the forest. Chestnut brown hair fell in a braid to her waist and and a rough leather vest covered her green blouse, but Matthew was drawn to her eyes. Sparkling blue; the colour of the sky on a crisp autumn day, or the ocean in summer, they called to him even across the meadow, like an invitation to come swimming. A smile crossed her chapped lips as their eyes met, and she opened her mouth as if to call out, but a shout rose from the town, and in a flash she was gone, leaving nothing but pine branches jostling in the wind.

As the summer heat grew, Matthew settled into a routine. Herd the sheep to the pasture, settle in on his rock to watch them. Once there, the spray of the Florende fought back the sun, and if the rock offered a perfect view of the pine grove, Matthew never mentioned it to the people in town. But the pines remained empty, a dark hole against the wall of trees.

Caught up in a dream, he watched all summer long, as the cicadas cried and wildflowers bloomed thick across the river, tempting the sheep with their honey-like scent. But it was as the moon rose yellow and full on the first day of harvest that he next caught sight of the girl.

Wordlessly, she slipped through the branches, her dress of pure white standing stark against the dark green of the pines. With glance and a finger to her lips, she set off downriver without looking back. He followed the river without question, not daring to cross but not daring to lose sight of his ghost. She vanished over a rocky ledge, and he scrambled to keep up.

The sight at the bottom made him bite his cracked lips. The ground fell away to a clearing below, and the Florende river, barely 3 feet across at the top, sprayed out in a waterfall before widening below, a meandering strip of twilight cutting a path through the corn fields. A tree lay across the twin river banks, forming a bridge between the orderly rows and the unbroken meadow. And his lady in white stood on that log, a smile on her lips as she watched him descend.

Carefully he crossed the moss covered log until he stood before her, close enough to smell the pine sap in her hair. Close enough to touch her, yet he kept his hands at his sides. He licked his dry lips as he met her crystal blue gaze. He broke the silence first.

Drums of War – Part #8 – Aggressions

14 Wednesday May 2014

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Gwendolyn hustled out into the private garden of the Warden’s headquarters, her cloak hastily tossed over her shoulders. Turgis had a goofy smile plastered over his face as he waved in greeting to her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked fiercely, pulling him away from the window and down a well-forested path. Turgis laughed at her discomfort, gesturing behind him to where Keita hid in the woods. “I thought you were smarter than this, you know most of the Wardens here wouldn’t think twice about turning you into fertilizer for trespassing.” Turgis rolled his eyes.

“Aye, well, I wanted to see you again.” Gwen snorted.

“Right after I caught you with a new lady? You might be dumber than I thought.”

“Bah! I’m old enough to be Keita’s father. I was just trying to keep her out of trouble.” Gwen gave him a doubtful look.

“So why are you here now, with her?” She stopped walking away and turned to stare at him. She’d led them to a small grove beneath a huge willow tree, the leaves drooped dense and green around them. “The truth this time.”

Turgis gave her a mischievous smile. “Stirring up some trouble.”

“So let me get this straight. She needs to see the Oak of Ages for this quest of hers. That doesn’t really explain where you fit in.” Gwen said, one explanation later. Turgis shrugged.

“I’m helping. She seemed a little lost.”

“Hey!” Keita exclaimed beside him. “I just got here, I would have found my way eventually. I’m not that helpless.” Turgis sighed.

“Keita, look, are you going to do this whether I’m here or not?”

“Of course I am!” She said, hands set on her hips.

“And will this be significantly easier with my help?” The girl fell silent, glowering. “Then I suggest you start accepting my help and stop worrying about the why. I have my reasons.” He turned back to Gwendolyn, who had watched the interaction. “So, can you help us out?”

Gwen arched an eyebrow at Turgis, “Well, I can certainly help bring you to the Oak of Ages, come this way.”

Keita fell into step beside the druid as she led the way through the woods. Gwen smiled at her. “The Oak is actually open to all visitors, so your elder should already be there. The Oak is the center of the power in Cetrius, that all the Wardens draw from. Without it, all the plants across the neighbouring kingdoms would wilt and die.”

Keita listened to Gwen’s speech curiously. “So, what’s to prevent someone from trying to destroy it then?” Turgis snorted from behind her.

“She is.” He said, gesturing to Gwen. Keita sized up the young girl, taking in her flowing hair filled with flowers and short stature.

“She doesn’t look that tough.” She said dismissively, “I could probably take her.” Gwen raised an eyebrow as Turgis chuckled.

“You think so?” Gwen asked, glancing around at the surroundings. Keita puffed out her chest.

“Yes, any time, Warden.” She said condescendingly. Gwen sighed, shrugging at Turgis who was still laughing.

“Is this a good place to fight, Keita?” She asked, gesturing at the clearing. Keita took in the area, a sparsely wooded clearing about 20 feet across.

“Perfect.” She said, breaking into a wide grin. “Back off, old man, I don’t need you coming to my rescue this time.” Gwen gave Turgis’s back a hard stare as he retreated further down the path. Gwen backed off several steps from Keita as Turgis signalled the start of the fight.

“Start!!” He declared from a safe distance. The barbarian lunged at the small druid fiercely, but tripped just short of reaching her, with a vine wrapped tightly about one leg. She went to rip it off, but no sooner had she torn free of that one that another had wrapped itself firmly about one arm. Soon she was buried beneath a squirming mass of vines that writhed around her. Turgis nudged her with his toe.

“Do you give up?” He asked, holding back his laughter. A low growl emerged from the greenery, and a hand quickly shot out towards his leg, jerking him off feet. He landed heavily beside the girl, a pair of grey eyes glowering out at him from beneath a thick vine crawling along her eyebrows.

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one who wanted to fight the Warden beside ‘Their source of power.'” He said, kicking a questing vine off his ankle as he stood up again. She growled at him, still struggling against the vines as he backed away.

“Should we keep walking?” Gwen asked from across the clearing. She held one hand tightly clenched at her side as the flowers in her hair glowed faintly, but otherwise seemed unconcerned with the blight of the barbarian girl.

“I suppose we may as well.” Turgis said, heading towards her and the path. As he reached the path, he heard Keita cry out.

“Enough!” She yelled, now having struggled her way onto her knees beneath the vines. Gwen relaxed her fist and the vines abruptly stop moving, though not retracting. As Keita tore the remaining vines off, Turgis reached out and lightly touched on of the flowers in Gwen’s hair. It broke off into his palm, the glow having faded away. He looked at Gwen curiously, but she shrugged it off.

“It’ll grow back.” She said, unconcerned. Keita came up, pulling weeds from her hair and set off down the path, with Gwen falling in step beside her. Turgis tucked the delicate blossom into his cloak as he followed after the two girls, now animately talking.

Under Sapphire Skies

10 Saturday May 2014

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As the early morning sun dyed the sands gold, Amelia Earhart paced the shores of Atlantis yet again, kicking over any mounds of sand that seemed too tall and inspecting the various bits of garbage the ocean had washed in.

“At it again?” Asked a tall, dark skinned man, walking up beside her, in a language that has long been forgotten. He was well muscled and wore nothing but a loin cloth and a string of beads about his neck. From the waist down his legs were covered in blue-green scales, that ended in large feet with long, webbed toes. He carried a slim fishing spear with him. Amelia replied in the same language he spoke.

“One day, Kay. One day soon I’ll find that last piece, and finally fix my plane.” She bent over to inspect a particularly promising mess in the sand, but found nothing but an unspooled cassette tape. She sighed in frustration, but shoved the mess into a basket woven from torn grocery bags. It wouldn’t get her plane moving, but it might be useful to trade in town. The Atlantians were mostly self sustained, but always found a creative use for the discard trash of the outside world. Magnetic ribbons were a popular decorative ornament.

“And then what?” Kazil said, the sun glinting iridescently off the scales embedded about his neck. “You’ll find this… gasoli you speak of, and fly off into the veil? Into that?” He gestured with his spear into the clouded mists that surrounded the island. It glittered like a rainbow, and empathized his gesture with a crackle of jade coloured lightning. Amelia turned to stare at the unbroken wall of mists, quietly. The silence dragged on as she stared into it, beginning to frown. Kazil drew his lip into a thin line, and walked behind her, slipping his arms about her and drawing her close to his bare chest. After a moment, Amelia looked up at him and smiled sadly.

“I can’t spend my whole life here, Kay. I’m a free spirit, I need to see the world. This feels like a cage I’ll never escape.”

“From what you’ve told me, you’ve already spent two lives here with me. Now come back to bed, you make me feel like I’m still in my first century of life.” He said, playfully nuzzling her neck.

Hours later, Kazil found her on the beach yet again, staring out at the veil as it danced and glittered.

“Still thinking of leaving me.” He said without malice, sitting beside her to watch the evening sun turn the mists red, orange and purple.

“Tell me about the veil again.” She said, “Truly, has no one ever lived to get past it?”

“None that we know of. People have tried, of course, but their bodies are normally found washed up on shores a few days later.”

“But not all of the bodies, right?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Kazil sighed.

“Not all, no, but the last person to go missing to the veil was centuries ago. Not since my grandfather’s times.”

“I wonder if they still speak English out there.” Amelia mused in her native tongue.

“My grandfather knew him, you know. Soren, the last person to try to leave Atlantis. He said he was like you. Always curious. Always infected with, how do you say it, wanderlust?” He twisted his tongue about the foreign word as Amelia looked at him curiously.

“You never told me this story, Kay.” She said, gently accusing him.

“I did some asking about for you, my little caged seagull. My Grandfather likes you. He says Soren was obsessed with the veil, like you are. That he would claim the veil had moods, that could be tracked like one tracks the weather. He thought that the veil might be calmer at times, you see. My grandfather always laughed at his theories, but Soren was convinced he could make it through the veil. Soren would often sit out here and watch the veil, much like you do. One day, as they were sitting out here debating whether the veil was calmer at a full moon or dawn, a small blue bottle washed ashore. Soren claimed it was proof that some things could pass through unharmed. He promised my grandfather that when he made it through, he would send back a letter to my grandfather in that very bottle, to prove he made it.”

Amelia stared Kazil intently. “And then what?”

“My grandfather said that a few weeks later, on the night of the full moon, Soren went missing. No one was sure when he’d left, but my grandfather knew where he was heading. He combed the beach for years afterwards, but never did find the blue bottle again, or Soren. He says all he found was this.”

Kazil placed a curved piece of blue sea glass in Amelia’s hand, no bigger than a sand dollar, and worn smooth by the ocean currents. She turned it over several times.

“But what does it mean?” She asked.

“He wasn’t sure. But the veil sure is lovely tonight.”

Drums of War – Part #7 – Suggestion

06 Tuesday May 2014

Posted by in Stories

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Turgis prodded Keita’s still form where it lie on the bed.  The girl jumped up from a dead sleep, staring at the soldier as she scrambled to find a weapon.

“You’re a jumpy little thing in the mornings, aren’t ye?”  Turgis said with a laugh, standing beside the bed fully dressed.  “I wouldn’t have guessed a barbarian would sleep so late.”  Keita stared at him hatefully, her multi-coloured braid coming loose and fraying.

“The Ora wake with the sun every morning.  This is not morning.”  She said as she began to remember where she was.  Turgis nodded knowingly, as he opened the curtains over the window, letting the bright morning sun filter into the room.

“Whatever you say, darling.  I’m going to get some breakfast downstairs.”

Keita came down to the kitchen table a short time later.  Her hair was neatly braided as she stared through blurry eyes.  The only person at the big table was Turgis, though as she entered the room he pushed a plate of eggs and hash towards her.

“Not much of a morning person, I guess.”  Turgis sipped a dark tea, oblivious to Keita glaring dagger at him over the plate of food.  “I’ve been doing some thinking while you were getting your beauty sleep.  I seem to recall you mentioning some else you wanted to talk to here in Cetrius.  Seems like it might be a place to start.”  Keita swallowed a mouthful of potato.

“Don’t you have a job you’re supposed to do instead of helping me look for Elders?”  She asked suspiciously.  Turgis shrugged.

“That is my business, but I trust no one will notice my absence.”  Keita snorted.

“Really?  You’ll tell me that you think your King is insane but not that?”

“Everyone has the little truths they’d like to run away from.”  He replied casually.  Keita  lightly blushed behind her scars.

“Yes, well, it doesn’t matter much, I’m not sure where the Elder is.  This is my first time outside of the plains.  It was by luck that I found the city.”  Turgis laughed.

“Well then, perhaps it’s lucky that you found a patron as easily as you did.  So tell me, what did the Elder tell you?”  He asked.

“To find the Elder within the borders of Cetrius.  She mentioned it would be a place of great spirituality, near the Oak of Ages.”

“Hmm.”  Turgis stroked his stubbled chin.  “I’m as lost as you are.  But I know someone who would know.  Luckily, she sleeps in almost as late as you do.”

Gwendolyn  stumbled down the stairs to the common room of the Warden’s headquarters.  The small flowers in her hair had all closed their blossoms overnight, and were just beginning to reopen.  Suppressing a yawn, she grabbed a black kettle out of the hearth and poured the water over a cup of tea leaves.  She watched the tea seep out of half opened eyes quietly.  When it was cooled enough to drink, she raised it to her lips, her eyes drifting towards the window that looked out to the Warden’s Garden.

Outside the window, she saw Turgis’s smiling face, waving enthusiastically at her.

Gwen sputtered in shock, sending hot tea spraying all over the table before her.