Thursday, January 8, 2009

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.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Knave

Weird and black in the light,
Hidden without shadow, bright black
Glowing, humming, and razor-sharp,
Heavy-beaked, keen-eyed and impudent,
Half-maker watches the unguarded roads

As the day is born, the day-star rising
Transforming darkness to virginal white,
Street-born refugee, smudge-faced and beautiful
Crosses in her eyes, singing the light
The devil vanishing in transformation to love

The Knave, strange and awake,
Asks his way in a land where he knows no one,
Their minds opaque, murky and dark
Bright black, weird in the light
The Half-maker's folk, shadows in the vapor

Still he seeks that other country,
Where Knave becomes Knight, all his wounds in front
Clad in violet, conversing with the dark
Pleading in the hope of a shift
When such a man Awakens to the Cup!

Friday, December 12, 2008

Christmas, 2008

Icons speak fire through gold.
Awake! Awake! Be not taken in by the world!
The King came and went, and still you sleep,
leaden and unknowing.

The Divine Spark sputters,
but does not go out, tended by unseen hands,
the luminous Yes, just beyond reach.
Alas! the devil is no more,

But He who tests his own,
still He breathes beneath all things,
ancient and terrible, dazzling,
But His light is only a candle,

Next to the light the icons whisper.
Our blind eyes cannot see,
And must be burnt away.
Awake! Awake! The King has come and gone.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

The Eternal City, Part 1

This is the beginning of a long story I will be serializing here. I hope to update it once per week, but we'll see how that goes. It is in the nature of a rough draft, as I am writing it essentially as it appears here. I hope you enjoy it.


“Where are you, Hero? I wasn’t gone that long.”

It was the edge of the forest. Kira knew Hero didn’t like to be so close to the settlements. But, she knew he understood the necessity. She’d been waiting for him for an hour after her return from the farm-hold. It was within view of the trees, and Hero’s sight was considerably better than hers, so she knew he would have been able to see her the whole time.

When she had spoken, it had been quietly, the calm of her voice belying the irritation she felt inside. She understood his trepidation. The farmers and other settlers didn’t care for his kind, and they generally drove them off on the exceedingly rare occasions the two parties had the opportunity to interact.

Part of her irritation stemmed from the fact that he wasn’t there to protect her. She had been at the edges of the farm-stead stealing, and had she been spotted there would have been a chase. The only way the chase would have been broken off would have been the appearance of Hero.

The plan, as it had been for years, was that Kira would sneak into the fields under the eye of Hero. If she was spotted and chased, Hero would emerge from the trees, shocking the farmers into stopping. He would then scoop Kira up and they would flee at a speed the farmers could not match.

But, he was nowhere to be found this time. Neither could she track him. He was by far the superior woodsman, and had been born with the natural habit of concealing his movements from others. It was how his kind had survived for longer than anyone could remember.

She waited for a few more minutes, intending to set out looking for him if he didn’t show. Soon, however, she heard a familiar rustle in the gathering dusk. A moment later, Hero emerged from the shadows.

He was taller than any man, almost by half. His bulk was also much greater, and his reach and musculature matched. Green skin was hidden only atop his head and on his chin by darker green hair. Small round ears sat astride a great round head. His eyes were big and piercing with light gray irises. A sharp intellect shown in them, but one that was deeply estranged from the minds of humans. Even Kira, who had been travelling with Hero for years, often didn’t understand the things he did. His mouth was wide and thin-lipped, and sat beneath a broad nose with wide nostrils.

Men called Hero’s people the Firbolg. They were ancient beyond the ken of most of the other peoples, and were widely feared. Legend tied them mysteriously to the ancient ruins scattered about the countryside.

We are followed. Hero used the sign-language of his people. They had vocal ability, but used it only rarely. He knew Kira’s language, but they used Hero’s most often. The sign he used for “followed” also meant “hunted”, but Hero’s demeanor led Kira to interpret it in the less threatening way.

Who?
She asked. Hero shrugged, a mannerism adopted from his companion. The gesture was far grander when performed by someone of his size, and therefore seemed much more emphatic than the off-hand way Kira used it.

We should travel on, he said. Clearly, Hero didn’t feel threatened by the follower, but the fact they were being tracked was, in itself, a reason to keep moving. Especially for a Firbolg. They had no craving for contact with other peoples, Hero’s relationship with Kira notwithstanding.

To make themselves harder to track, Kira climbed on to the Firbolg’s shoulders. They had travelled this way often over the years, and Hero was practiced at avoiding branches low enough to knock Kira down.

While they travelled, they at some of the fruit and vegetables Kira had taken. Hero had a couple of rabbits in his pouch, and Kira promised to cook them up when he deemed it safe to camp.

They moved deeper into the trees, familiar with this part of the forest. The Firbolg were forest creatures, and Hero, so far as Kira knew, had never been outside of the cover of the trees. Save, of course, for the few times he had come to her rescue at the farms. So, they both knew the forest pretty well.

Hero finally stopped moving late into the night. The sky beyond the trees was clear, and the moon shown bright in a little clearing by a low rock out-cropping. Kira laid out her bed beneath the rock, and prepared a small fire. Years before, when she still lived among her own kind, her mother had taught her a few small tricks that she was told to keep to herself. One was the trick of making a smokeless fire. A small gesture with the fingers of her left hand, a muttered phrase in a language she didn’t understand, and she had a merry little fire to cook by; and there would be no column of smoke to give away their location, no matter how damp the wood.

Hero, as was his habit, sat with his back to the fire while he ate. Kira knew, he preferred to feel the heat on his back, rather than his face. Also, it helped to keep his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was always watchful and suspicious, but especially now, when they were being tracked.

Kira extinguished the fire before she settled in to her bed. Getting rest was rarely a problem for her, since her companion had no need of sleep. He kept watch all night, most nights. Some nights, he slipped away for a few hours.

Kira suspected he went off to visit with others of his kind, though she had never seen another Firbolg. She sometimes asked him where he went, but he refused to say. Actually, it was more like he ignored her, simply not answering.

This night, however, he remained nearby, watchful.

Monday, December 1, 2008

Something New, Soon

I'm working on something new, and will post the first bit of it soon. Hang on!