A Few Short Items

Incomplete thoughts, perhaps. Based partly on a dream I had, and partly Burroughs-style cut-up writing.

Well imagined gossip,
like campfire chatter,
skipping the nearby,
shouting of the distance,
wailing in the evening drear
without audience or reason

looking up in the moment,
novices turn in fright,
soon they speak of the vivid virus
low-hanging, lewd and dangerous
ignorant, Living Ignorance
King in the violet nothing,
robed in black, empty distance

night converses with night
ignoring the luminous light, just beneath the hill
somewhere, someone will be the hero
travelling, concealed in that brightness
vaporous, despised, unknown and blank

Fire within fire,
bright, safe, warm
nurturing and soft,
lulling the unwary to sleep
the Eternal City of dreams
hunter and trap, ever watchful
nameless and sightless,
but sharp-eyed and carved in mind

---

the ruler of that which is made,
king in the western sky
high atop the pyramid of thrones,
far beyond the aeons
the known unknown,
that which is beyond Eleusis
Jerusalem, Rome
That which is beyond the compass of mind

temple-born empire
indwelling light
governance of will
temple of light
indwelling empire
governed by will
willed by light
temple governed
in the empire of light

---

Late revenge, kissed by defeat
left to the ancient dynasty
of little-known gods, driven
through the flat places of
blank dream canvas, falling off
of the page, dripping with the
blood of the slain past, and
empty as a bottle or a pocket

---

defeat, dealt in the ancient streets
obliterated tongues old when the Sea Peoples came,
the people, wailing in their houses, singing the dirge,
failing the slain, and dying among the rats
left and the city welcomed the sand
and went to sleep

in time, men came again, and wondered
who could they have been, who reared such a place?
they looked upon the carved walls, the broken floors
and guessed, imagined and calculated,
and did not know.

---

Who walks the length of time knows that the beginning is the end.
it turns and turns and turns,
and only ends in that final, distant light,
Oneness with the Eternal Dream.

The Eternal City, Part 5

Nessa woke to the smell of cooking meat. For a moment, she imagined herself back at the fortress outside of Windhold Haven, where she had taken her training, waiting for the evening meal, gossiping with the other novices.

Soon, however, she recovered herself, and remembered. Another vision. This one more vivid than the last, in plainer language. She sat up and looked around.

A small campfire burned nearby, and the girl sat on the other side of it. Her back was to the fire, gazing southwest. Over the fire, a rabbit hung on a spit.

Nessa yawned. “Will you share your rabbit with me?” Nessa asked.

“My name is Kira,” girl said. “If we are to travel together, you might as well know my name.”

“I am glad to know it,” Nessa said, slightly embarrassed that she had skipped introductions. “I am Nessa. Thank you.”

“The rabbit is for you,” Kira said. “I’ve had mine.”

“Might we not speak face to face?” Nessa asked.

“The Firbolg sit with their backs to the fire,” Kira said. “They depend upon their night vision.”

“The Firbolg also have no need of sleep,” Nessa replied. “Not so, with us. Have you slept?”

Kira did not reply.

Nessa sat quietly for a moment, and then began to eat the rabbit. Between bites, she asked, “Would you like to tell me about Hero? The farmers at the edge of the forest tell me he is fearsome.”

“He is gentle and quiet!” Kira snapped. “They know nothing.”

“Where is he now?” Nessa asked.

“Gone,” Kira said.

“There was more blood in that battle down there than a Troll has in its body,” Nessa said. “Was Hero injured?”

Kira shifted slightly, but didn’t answer.

“It is said that the Firbolg have special places where they meet,” Nessa said. “They go there when they are wounded, also. I will help you find him when we are done.”

Finished with the rabbit, Nessa settled back down, and went to sleep. When she awoke, the sun was just poking its head over the distant mountains. Kira was asleep on the other side of the smoldering campfire.

The Eternal City, Part 4

Nessa came upon the site of the battle in the early afternoon. The Troll’s carcass had been left to rot, to feed the soil, and the forest creatures. It looked like some of the forest’s bolder inhabitants had already had their share.

She continued on. She figured the Firbolg would have climbed the hill to get a look around. As she emerged from the trees, she found, standing at the top of the hill, a girl of about fifteen. She was thin-faced, slightly built, but wiry. Nessa couldn’t tell what color her eyes were, but her hair was brown, and her skin was pale. She stared down at Nessa, unsmiling. The girl’s smudged face showed clearly the signs of tears. Something tragic had happened here. Nessa could guess what it was.

Leaving her horse near the trees, Nessa removed her sword, as well. Then she began to slowly climb the hill, arms at her sides. About halfway there, about forty feet from the top of the hill, the girl spoke.

“You’ve been following us,” she said.

Nessa stopped walking and nodded. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been looking for you for months,” Nessa replied. “I was sent to you.”

“For what?” The girl’s accent was thick, and her voice thin from lack of use.

“I’ve been sent to escort you to the city of Pass-By,” Nessa said. “The Sword Goddess sent me to bring you to her chapel there.”

“Hero said I should go with you.”

There was a note of heartbreak in that, Nessa thought. What if the girl refused to be taken? Would it be right to force her?

“Will you?” Nessa asked.

“I’ve never been to a city,” the girl said. “I don’t think I even know what the word means.”

“It is a big place,” Nessa said. “With lots of people. But, I will protect you.”

“Are there Trolls in this city?”

“No,” Nessa replied. “You will be safe from Trolls in Pass-By.”

“I don’t want to be safe from them,” the girl said, darkly. “I want to kill them.”

As she said these words, Nessa saw light begin to emanate from a point just behind her. The girl’s face was soon obscured, and then the landscape all around. The light became so bright, Nessa wanted to look away, but couldn’t. All she could see was the bright golden light and the dark silhouette of the girl.

A voice, distant but distinct, spoke inside her head: “Train this one, and bring her to me.”

The Eternal City, Part 3

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Hero had insisted they wait for their pursuer, instead of continuing their flight. Kira had been against it. She didn’t understand how he could know what was chasing them, or even if he did. He wouldn’t tell her anything, just that they would wait.

Silently, Kira faced the southwest, where the trees were relatively thin. They were near the top of a hill, and they could see a great distance. Forest spread out all around them, but Kira could make out the barest light brown of the plains in the far distance. Down the hill, the trees lay thickly, keeping the forest floor cool and dark. She longed to be back under the canopy, striding along beside Hero, away from whatever was chasing them.

Hero stood a few feet to her right, also looking toward the forest in the southwest. Suddenly, she saw him tense from the corner of her eye. She looked to where his eyes were planted. A deeper shadow was emerging from the forest, accompanied by a sound of crashing. Under the noise of cracking branches, she heard the low growl of something coming for them.

Before the monster had emerged from the canopy, Hero was bolting down the hill toward it. The monster was taller than Hero, covered in thick, black fur. Its arms and legs were overlong, for its torso, and all four limbs ended in long, black talons. Its head was large and held a mouth full of flashing white teeth.

 When it saw Hero coming at it, the monster stopped and spread its arms, catching him in a four-limbed hug. The two tumbled back out of sight, under the trees.

Without warning, three more giant forms came over the hill, behind Kira. They flashed with impossible speed past her, but she immediately recognized them. Firbolgs! The first she had ever seen, aside from Hero. In seconds they were into the trees. The Troll could be heard snarling and snapping at its foes, roaring challenges. The Firbolgs, as far as Kira could discern, fought silently. In a few moments, the Troll fell mute.

It was some time before any Firbolg emerged from the trees. When they did, Kira let out a desperate cry. Two of the Firbolgs who had passed her on the hill were carrying Hero. He was bleeding badly from several wounds. They brought him to the top of the hill, and lay him down. One of them remained with him, while the other returned to where Kira stood silently, stunned.

The Firbolg regarded Kira for a moment, head tilted slightly to one side, and strode past her, back into the trees. Kira climbed the hill and came to kneel next to Hero.

He was conscious, but barely.The other Firbolg worked silently to staunch wounds. For the first time in months, Hero spoke to her in her own language.

“I am sorry,” he said, haltingly, unused to any vocal language. “My wounds will heal. But, not for a long time. I must go in to care.”

“I go where you go,” Kira sobbed.

“No,” he said.

She didn’t understand. What could he mean? She had always been with him, almost as long as she could remember. He was her only family, and her only friend. She couldn’t even remember her parents’ faces. She couldn’t imagine being without him.

“I have to,” she said, almost hysterical now. “Please!”

“The Troll was not our tracker,” Hero said, his voice a deep rumble of a whisper. “She still approaches. She comes for you. She is a sword-maiden, and she is the key to your future. Go with her.”

“But, I don’t want to!” Kira wailed.

“You must stop this,” Hero said. “When I heal, I will find you, or you will find me. We will see each other again.” At this, Hero’s eyes closed and he passed from consciousness. The other Firbolg lifted him up, and began to run, north.

Kira, with no hope of keeping up, could only stand and watch them disappear into the forest.

The Eternal City, Part 2

Nessa figured she was less than a day behind the Firbolg. She was sure the girl would be with him, even though there were no signs of her in the meager evidence of her companion’s passage. He was probably carrying her; he would move faster, this way, and would leave less trace.

The tales the farmers told of the Firbolg were of a fearsome, lumbering monster. That was the usual impression given by human farmers regarding anything that came out of the forest to raid their crops, but she knew that this could be a very apt description of an enraged Firbolg. She also knew, however, that they were largely a peaceful, retiring race. They valued their isolation such that they had little to do with each other, much less anyone of another race.

This, of course, led Nessa to wonder, not for the first time, what this particular Firbolg was doing with a young human girl. Neither would be captive of the other; this made no sense. Some other bond must have formed, probably early in the girl’s life. Despite their gentle nature, Nessa found it difficult to believe that the Firbolg had adopted an orphan. Yet, what else?

She hoped to overtake the pair the next day. As she gazed up at the stars, she wondered what the encounter would be like. The Firbolg was no doubt already wondering who could track him so well. He might even have an idea of who she was. So, he would not be expecting a fight. This was good, as she didn’t want to fight, either.

In ancient times, the sword-maidens and the Firbolg had cooperated, thought few in this time were aware of the connection. It was millennia ago, and most people were concerned with this season, and the next. But, the Firbolg, like the sword-maidens, kept the memory. Nessa sincerely hoped her quarry recalled the spirit of those times.

Also, she could be fairly sure she had been spotted by other Firbolg. They had ways of relaying news, and her description would be part of this. So, she kept her armor stowed away on her horse, and carried only the shorter of her two swords. She was careful to leave as little trace of her passing as she could. The Firbolg would respect this, as they considered themselves, so the tales said, keepers of this forest.

She slept well, if lightly, under the bright splash of stars that showed through the canopy. Awaking before sunrise, she led her horse through the forest, not bothering to mount. Something told her she would meet her quarry today.

Two hours into her trek, another trail crossed the one she followed. This trail was far different from the Firbolg’s, and she recognized it as readily. A swath of broken dirt, snapped branches and flattened vegetation marked the passage of a Black Troll.

It was the only species of Troll to travel in the daylight, all other species being nocturnal, and preferring cave-systems. Black Trolls usually stuck to the open plain, and would not be at home, and certainly not welcome, in this forest. It was strange to find one crashing through here.

Nessa’s curiosity nearly got the better of her, but she stuck to her original plan. The Firbolg, if they were inclined to interfere, would take care of the Troll. She might even have felt bad for the beast, if she hadn’t had some experience fighting them.

She pushed on and, to her surprise, an hour later, the Troll’s swath of destruction had circled back around and crossed her path again. This time, the monster seemed to find the same trail she was following, completely obscuring the Firbolg’s passage. Cursing under her breath, she resigned herself to the possibility that she would be facing a Troll as well as a delay in her rendezvous.