tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77174521658689858072024-03-06T00:33:19.965-08:00A Girl Named SonDecided that this was a better working title for the book. scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-91595751030479709722019-04-06T09:27:00.003-07:002019-04-06T09:27:42.144-07:0041 Epilogue: Book 2
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Father Philippe heard the great doors creak open from his office and went to see who would come to visit the church on a Tuesday morning.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A small crowd stood in the Narthex, blinking in the relative darkness after the brilliant bright day outside.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were well dressed and similarly but yet struck Father Philippe as an odd mix.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was a massive, striped, regal looking fellow with a tiny woman who reminded him of a nun, and a child gazing in wonder at the cathedral like it was the first time she had ever been in one; who was tenderly leading a terribly scarred, blind man.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Grace and Peace,” he greeted them, “I am Father Philippe, rector here, how may I be of service to you?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Did I hear one of you say something about tomes and books?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“A tomb with books is what my companion said,” the great big fellow indicted the blind man with a wry smile.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Oh, well, we have many fine examples of both here, what were you hoping to find?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“A description of the smell,” the blind man said.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Ah, not a fan of churches, I’d wager.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Wouldn’t have taken you for a gambling man, Padre.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“A sure thing isn’t gambling though, is it?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Oh, I like him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He’s quick. My name is Ch’Byartha,” The man stuck out a gnarled paw that was short a few fingers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Philippe shook it warmly with both hands.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“I’m going to assume that’s not the name your parents gave you, Son of Failure?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“It is the name they would have given had they been more honest with themselves.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“I see, and who is your lovely assistant?”<br />
</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“This,” the man said with some relish, like a father with great pride and affection for his only child, though clearly she was not his by birth, “is Akondro.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She timidly gave her hand and Philippe asked, “Did he name you?” leaning his head to indicate Ch’Byartha.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She nodded.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“I thought as much.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Welcome child.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I hope you come to love the church and your time in them more than your warden here.”<br />
</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Who is the warden and who is the ward when one must needs be led by the hand like a child by a child?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Yahweh has done much to humble me these last few years; i assure you Father, my feelings for the community of God are much more malleable than in my youth.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The large one cleared his throat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“So.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The furry wall there is Amisbhake,” Ch’Byartha continued the introductions, “Lord High Counselor to Chofa the Mysteriously Hard to Locate These Days,” Philippe shook his paw, which enveloped his own, “Charmed,” the great man rumbled.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“And her dispassionateness is none other than Ch’loi, Ambassador of the Kingdom of the Dawn.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Ah, so… OH!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It is you!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You’ve come!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Well, you did send for us.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Please forgive me for not knowing you straight away, I had no idea what to expect!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Thank you ever so much for coming!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Please, follow me.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He led them outside and to the adjacent building next door.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“I am so thankful you have come.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They just started showing up here soon after the Union nuked Aedlin.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I didn’t know what to do!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I know what society would have me do.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I know what our neighbors would tell me to do but i could not bring myself to do it, you see.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They are living, thinking beings no matter their appearance or… diet”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They went through a door and began descending some old steps cut directly into the stone.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“They obviously wanted help and chose me, they came to me directly you see.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Not to cause harm or mischief but just an insistent but wordless plea for help.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“How do you know that?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Father Philippe laughed, “Because I am not dead!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If they were behaving in the way we have come to expect from them, I would be a raisin and the Union would be nuking Zanzibar!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Jael came first.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Just stood in the doorway one night when the church was empty.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had no way of communicating with her you understand but my compassion was touched by them all the same.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I found something for her to eat and she left.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The next night she came again.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The following night, she brought Hagar with her.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The next night Ruth and so on.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They are in such obvious need!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had to help them, I am compelled by grace to help them!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So I have hid them here and fed them but this can not go on indefinitely!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have to send them on or they will be discovered.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned, “Now, they are a little…disconcerting, I feel I would be remiss if I did not try to warn you about their appearance and what it’s like being so near them….”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Ch’Byartha put a hand on his shoulder.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Trust us, Father, we know.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“I do not know how that could be.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have worked with starving communities, communities ravaged by war and plague and nothing, rien, has ever prepared me for this!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Preaching to the choir.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">He looked at each of them, shrugged, “Alright, if you’re sure?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“We are.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Alright,” he unlocked the door, “that’s not to keep them in, you understand, I doubt I could even if I wanted to.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It is to keep others from accidentally stumbling upon them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It is for their protection.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He pushed it open and called into the darkness, “Rahab, Ruth, Jael, Hagar… visitors to see you.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He took a lamp from the wall and lit it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Spindly shadows like giant spiders lowered themselves from the ceiling, raised up from the corners and came forward in a shy huddle of rags and clicking eye shutters.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“You named them?” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“I could not very well ask them their own names, so yes.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“They’re all women’s names.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Something about them struck me as feminine, yes.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“You celibate, Father?” Ch’Byartha asked.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Oui.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Figured.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Philippe was going to ask what he meant but Jael, always first, came forward but not to Philippe.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She went straight to and stood before Ch’loi, her posture erect but not defiant.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As if she were presenting herself before a superior.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She did some sort of pantomime and Ch’loi made a hand gesture in return.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“You understand her?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Yes.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“You..know her?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One has met before, yes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What does the Reverend call this one?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Jael.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“The wife of Heber, who drove the stake through Sisera.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Yes, but I was not thinking of that specifically, more searching Scripture for names of women associated with the people of God but not actually of them.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“It is appropriate.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Father Philippe did not know what she meant by that and she did not offer to explain.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What he asked instead is what was truly on his heart, “Can you.. will you help them?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Ch’loi looked at him, her face was unreadable, stoic as stone, dour, the rigid mask of a woman who had known much heartbreak and little to no joy in her life.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But her eyes now were fierce and bright as if something inside was waking up and though her voice was small, quiet, meek, Philippe would have said it spoke with iron, “It is One’s Purpose.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-76657435894546468392019-04-01T08:42:00.001-07:002019-04-01T08:42:24.555-07:0040: The Reunion Begins
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Conscious thought was a novel new country.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Ch’Byartha had existed, barely, for some time now—part of the nature of which was not knowing how time passed within its borders—in a semi-dreamlike state, drifting in and out of bizarre worlds of pain and fear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He knew not which parts were real, which were complete fantasy and which were a terrible bleeding together of both.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fever dreams filled with monsters and misery and a pressing need to tell people dreadfully important things he could not remember.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It frustrated him to desperation<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This aching need to communicate vital things, life changing things, life saving things his mind was convinced it knew yet never found opportunity to express, or indeed, even remember exactly what they were.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>All it could remember was the terrible pressing urge to convey them. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">And now he was awake, aware of reality, such as it was, and the feeling bled away like the shadows of night before a sunny Spring morning in the Western Savannah.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Or was it only wearing a mask now?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Had it disguised itself as a half-forgotten dream?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Was he forgetting something?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Did he care?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The sun was warm on his face, he could hear countless birds.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The oxcart he rode in was not terribly bumpy as the highways here were smooth and well made.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His pain was moderate but familiar.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The child had lived, they had escaped Aedlin as he promised.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The fact that it was by no feat of his did not distress him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He had never truly known how they were going to get out.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The world was as pleasant as it could be, and he was quite inclined to enjoy its hospitality. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“And din Ch’loi busted you outta box and din she busted up the Army guy and din we hid inna bottom of a wagon dat hadda secret closet!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And din we hid inna house with dese nice people only dey wasn’t so nice afta dere baby died and dey left us to rot inna city!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The child was filling in some of his blanks, in her way.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Seems I missed a great deal of adventure and derring do,” Ch’Byartha lamented.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“You was dere,” she told him.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“In body, yes, love, my mind and spirit however were off wandering and wondering where my body had gotten to.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Ch’loi carried you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“She did, didn’t she.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One wonders why she would go through so much trouble for a simple guide she had found so easy to leave behind before.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He deliberately baited these conversational hooks every hour or so, so far, no bites.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The child didn’t seem to mind them but for all of the response he got from Ch’loi, she might as well not be on the wagon with them.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The driver, a man named Mowosa, said, “Over that rise then, mistress.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>T’would expect to meet a sentry of a sort before we reach it.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Sure enough, not long after a distant voice hailed them, “That’s far enough then!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>To Ch’Byartha’s ears, it echoed not just off the surrounding hills but off a nagging, horribly mangled memory.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mowosa brought his team up, “Ho there, Bezzie.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Ho there Blue,” and the cart stopped.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Noises settled similarly to dust, Ch’Byartha thought.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It took them a moment to clear but eventually there was a silence of sorts.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Since going blind, Ch’Byartha never ceased to be amazed at how many sounds he had never even noticed when sighted.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The silence stretched out.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then, “Who goes there?” a new voice, “State your intent.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“That you, Glynn?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It’s Mowosa Beka!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Bringing wares and provisions and passengers from the capital.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Hey Mo!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What kind of passengers?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Those seeking an audience with the Saree.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Someone is sneaking up behind us,” Ch’Byartha told them.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Your ears have grown sharp, Mr. Din Allorowro.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Or your steps have grown clumsy with age and fatness.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Amis!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I embarrass and shame my vocabulary and wit with my inability to express to you how painfully delightful it is to hear your voice again!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why aren’t you dead?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Or are we dead?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Was this cart more than just metaphor for the passage into the bosom of the Almighty?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mowosa, you scoundrel!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Are you Charon?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why didn’t you tell us you were the ferryman of Styx?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Ch’Byartha held his weak hands in the air, where massive, powerful ones gripped them with honest affection. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“You are not dead, O garrulous one,” the deep rumble of Amisbhake’s voice chuckled, “and that surprises me as much as my presence does you, rumors and gossip are all I’ve had of you since we parted and they alone curl my tail and lay my ears flat.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Seems then there are tales to tell but that is thirsty work and best done over a hearty meal and something warm to drink!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What are we standing around in the road for like a rafter of turkeys gobbling and gabbling?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Take us to Chofa!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Let’s the reunion begin in earnest!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Peace, Kurga, or is it Ch’Byartha now?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There is much to speak of, true, but there is also much to do and I’m afraid the reunion will have to wait.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One very much desires to see the Primary,” Ch’loi finally spoke.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“And he very much desires to see you as well, your highness, but he is not here.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As I said, there is much work to be done and he is off about it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As we shall soon be.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But come, there is time for food.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Thank Yah for that!” Ch’Byartha exclaimed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Oh, Amis, this is Ch’loi, Ch’loi, this is Amisbhake, he’s the loyal servant and bodyguard you traded for a worthless, zombie people-sucker and then left to die, you might remember.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Silence.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Amis broke it just before Ch’Byartha exploded in real anger, “And who is this rare desert flower?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Ch’Byartha, so intent upon his rage and hurt, mentally stumbled over Amis’ question.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then he finally remember the child.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Oh!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Oh, my gram would have my knuckles for my rudeness!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dear child, please forgive me,” he couldn’t yet help emphasizing every word, <i>please, forgive, me!</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As if he could teach them to Ch’loi.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“This is the High Counselor of the Court of Chofa the Wise and Benevolent, former master of the Western Pastures, Amisbhake the Muscularity!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Amis, while waiting many a moon on the meager streets of the doomed city of Aedlin for one unworthy friend, Yah gave me a far more charitable one.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We found each other’s company more agreeable than our loneliness and it took much of the bitter edge off of my sojourn there.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But alas and alack, what her dear, departed mother named her none can say, for she has survived by her wit and the grace of Yahweh since weaned.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“You have no name, child?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Nossir.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“What do people call you?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Lotta dings.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“What do the people who care about you call you?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Who dey?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Ch’Byartha had faced Monotooth, nearly died of fever, lived as a beggar on the streets for months, been tortured and in a coma for he knew not how long and nothing of that cut his soul deeper than this one honest question from the child.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He let go of Amis and reached out and found the young orphan.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Once again he said, “Child, please forgive me!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">This time he meant it.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uVRG0QhM2UFfnxQrKqds6gK357hDtcjHQb2Sku6GVVPJe1uMt4-eonut1H95eVXIlONN7HZM1WaSPAHKkviA8FVqCOZQ89FDHUbKZoviiO7_EjA5-jradmLCPJrShZB67YZCZGIXdvfb/s1600/Untitled_Artwork+30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uVRG0QhM2UFfnxQrKqds6gK357hDtcjHQb2Sku6GVVPJe1uMt4-eonut1H95eVXIlONN7HZM1WaSPAHKkviA8FVqCOZQ89FDHUbKZoviiO7_EjA5-jradmLCPJrShZB67YZCZGIXdvfb/s400/Untitled_Artwork+30.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-30055841939036585832019-03-28T18:51:00.001-07:002019-03-29T03:01:08.572-07:0039: Of Sorts<style type="text/css">
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Brumbow strode his way through the flow of foot traffic at the busy city gate and entered the Servatori gatehouse off to the side.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The buzz and stomp was instantly muffled by the heavy iron door.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Part holding cell, part lounge for the guard, the inside was homey but sparse.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Most of the detachment for this gate seemed to be inside.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Those sitting stood when he entered.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Watchcaptain,” the Sergeant-at-arms greeted him.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Alain.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What seems to be the hullabaloo?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Alain bobbed his head towards a corner of the room and Brumbow noticed the little woman and child sitting next to what appeared to be a very sick panthera.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Oh.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The woman looked up at him, “OH!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Brumbow looked back at Alain.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Alain nodded.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“OH!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Okay.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Um, yeah, it’s good to see you again…your majesty!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-o0emjU7jXzqFdRK_nLLRodEjU9ICrvy8M9ZhkrDwwkJocnaJkjeRwpIO4d2kT6yraSfDvZbEPUMhX4Z_PnzIJOxkugVSW5W0_Tk3A3jvkVPr_LF-XBzxdknEwk_OLafmo1Hd8u6IQqEq/s1600/39%253A_Of_Sorts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-o0emjU7jXzqFdRK_nLLRodEjU9ICrvy8M9ZhkrDwwkJocnaJkjeRwpIO4d2kT6yraSfDvZbEPUMhX4Z_PnzIJOxkugVSW5W0_Tk3A3jvkVPr_LF-XBzxdknEwk_OLafmo1Hd8u6IQqEq/s640/39%253A_Of_Sorts.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One is very glad to be..home," Ch'loi said, as if tripping over the last word.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Ah good, you know.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This could have been very awkward otherwise.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Hella awkward as it is,” one of his brother Servatori said. Brumbow believed his name was D'farah.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Understatement of the year,” Alain agreed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“What do we do?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“We get her the hell out of here is what we do!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>How many know she’s here?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Brumbow asked.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“All of us, Macklin, Boboli and Hiro outside, and about fifty to a hundred people who were in the gate when she was processed.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Who are now scattered about the entire city," D'farah added.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“We couldn’t have detained them all.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As soon as we recognized her we just tried to casually direct her in here without drawing any attention,” Alain reported.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“You did good, best thing you could have done.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Did anyone seem to recognize her?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Not in any obvious way but who knows?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Best to assume they did and by now the palace knows.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Couldn’t have happened on a Sunday when everyone would still have been in bed?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Right?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Or the middle of the night.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Damn.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Alright, we’re just going to have to commandeer an outgoing cart of some sort, hope the driver is a loyalist and sneak them back out that way.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Get them down to Kiriath Arba where maybe they can find a guide.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“We could escort them,” Alain suggested.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Too obvious.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We don’t exactly blend in.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>An apple cart with a Servatori escort?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Reckon not.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Ch’loi finally spoke.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“One’s guide is in need of medical assistance.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Well, at least you’re bringing us the bodies alive this time,” Brumbow said.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Sorry, that’s in poor taste.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We’ll do what we can, your majesty but time is of the essence and we cannot wait.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One does not understand.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It would seem the Servatori are trying to remove one from the city?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“That’s exactly what we’re trying to do, your majesty.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One wishes to see the Primary.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“That would not be a good idea.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The sick man stirred and moaned something.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One objects.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One is very concerned for the health of one’s guide and has brought it here to receive medical treatment.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One feels the Primary would be pleased to see one and do this thing.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Yeah, well, one would think so but that’s probably not the case.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So we’re gonna try and smuggle you back out of the city and contact someone who can help.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One wishes to see the Primary.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“I can’t stop you if insist, but I won’t help you either.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One wishes to see the Primary.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One wishes to see one’s kin.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One wishes to see Chofa.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Brumbow looked at Alain.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Uh..?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Alain said, “She doesn’t know,” and to Ch’loi, “Your majesty..um..”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">At that moment the sick man put out a hand and gripped Ch’loi’s arm, “Been…been…meaning to tell..you, Chofa… isn’t… he isn’t Viceroy anymore.” Ch'loi stiffened but otherwise did not react.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Brumbow sighed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Your majesty, there’s been a coup.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Of sorts.”</span></span></div>
<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-57201047887700398282019-03-27T13:31:00.002-07:002019-04-11T05:24:31.121-07:0038: And Hades Followed After...<style type="text/css">
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">They rode in roaring darkness.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There were no windows, no lights in the cargo hold of the Legion machine.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was only noise and the violent shaking of flight punctuated by sickening drops which left one’s insides feeling more shook than one’s outsides.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was impossible to know how long.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was impossible to speak to the child and be heard.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Though the harvester now known as Ch’loi was uncomfortable with touch, one held the child to calm its fears.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It slept now in one’s lap.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Legion had taken the guide to a different container where they assured one the guide would receive medical attention.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The pitch in the noise changed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The sickening drop feeling persisted.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The container tipped over.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The child awoke and clutched one.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One gripped the nearest secure point, a pile of crates chained to the floor with one hand and secured the child with the other.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The pitching increased, the noise became a whine, then a shriek and at last, as one thought of prayers to commit one’s spirit to Yahweh, the container leveled again and with one last plunge, slammed down upon something solid.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The noise decreased and finally, blessedly, thankfully stopped.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One welcomed the silence as oppressive as the dark.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Small sounds returned.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pings.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Clunks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Metal contracted, settled.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Somewhere outside a weight thumped and thumped and thumped again. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The motors ground and the rear doors pulled apart and the container opened its maw as light, yellow and white, forced its way around them to burn one’s eyes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Gradually other colors formed shapes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The light diminished and a smell reached one’s senses: GRASS!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Moist earth!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Green, a color one had not seen since leaving … the word, ‘home,’ leapt into one’s mind and one’s breathing stopped.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One had involuntarily thought of the Western Paschimi as home.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A place of belonging.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One belonged.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One suddenly longed to return in a way one had not been conscious of before.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The thought was as painful and beautiful as the first ones the Firemaker had placed in one’s head so long ago at the beginning.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One took the child’s hand and led it to the door.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Outside.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fields.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hills.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Green.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Legionnaire known as Major Nakba stood with its hands behind its back.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At its feet, the guide, fresh blankets and an intravenous stand, lay upon a stretcher.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One looked about. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Just you and me, Ch’loi.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Soon to be just you,” Major Nakba walked a wide circle around one and the child.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwB9JnCGPb7qkO5qJmxT-F2YRrgI6CzYX6gDtbk7ZrgaafwhGWtXN3n2r0T6p6f4o5lHgkUzdHWYk4KOAmlne9pgBe9riRnq6kPas-64DiisA_3nns4lBbn_kG8FfsRx7Ack9gu-NhJHaD/s1600/38_and_Hades_followed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwB9JnCGPb7qkO5qJmxT-F2YRrgI6CzYX6gDtbk7ZrgaafwhGWtXN3n2r0T6p6f4o5lHgkUzdHWYk4KOAmlne9pgBe9riRnq6kPas-64DiisA_3nns4lBbn_kG8FfsRx7Ack9gu-NhJHaD/s320/38_and_Hades_followed.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One is not detaining one further?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“No, Ch’loi, I’m not.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Frankly, I don’t want to waste another minute on you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“What will the Legion do about the impending swarm?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“That matter has been addressed.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“In what manner has the Legion addressed the swarm?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">He stopped mid way up the ramp of the Legion vehicle one had just exited.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“In an ultimate and final way.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You know Ch’loi, i’m glad to be rid of you but i’ll be nervous and looking over my shoulder for some time.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One does not understand.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The engines of the machine roared to life again, the Major yelled above them, “The Westvale.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Caravanserai.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Aedlin.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Everywhere you go, death and slaughter follow.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You are the ultimate kiss of bad luck!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You are the harbinger of Armageddon, Ch’loi!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You are plague!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And I bid you, Good Day!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He chopped the air with his hand, a angry wave of sorts, a dismissal, but it reminded one of a harvester’s hand signal.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Legion container leapt up, tilted and flew away like a fat insect, the rear doors still in the process of closing, the one known as Major Nakba still staring at one until it was too small to see.</span></span></div>
<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-17278925084393141772019-03-23T13:05:00.001-07:002019-04-11T05:20:37.846-07:0037: The Worthy Protectors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuXLVOIjRywy9Y0H66KbMDJpGJ-0gJFooSawpQ2M7U5Yjko3nnnX7PobIsgXWIxgalpQe0NZAmzAyHQiJRkbI8tjbkhSZugQm2o_G7lo2c7B84iyd7iP_ICfQpjsZFNKQVKg3GKyY_1p7/s1600/Untitled_Artwork+29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuXLVOIjRywy9Y0H66KbMDJpGJ-0gJFooSawpQ2M7U5Yjko3nnnX7PobIsgXWIxgalpQe0NZAmzAyHQiJRkbI8tjbkhSZugQm2o_G7lo2c7B84iyd7iP_ICfQpjsZFNKQVKg3GKyY_1p7/s320/Untitled_Artwork+29.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“His Imperial Majesty, the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings, the Master of all he surveys, and all his servants survey, the bringer of Life, Joy, Hope and Peace to all who kneel before his name, Savoy the Ascendant,” the herald proclaimed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>None of the soldiers knelt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Has sent his royal consort and chief steward to examine what business concerns the realm and bring report to his majesty.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The herald stepped back and Rizzlethop sloughed forward and addressed the Legionnaire commander.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Well met, protector of the realm.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Rizzlethop knew people’s faces well enough to recognize one biting off the first and maybe the second thing it wanted to say before settling on, “Well met, sir.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What can we do for you today?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“The Empire and the Emperor himself are always delighted to host their worthy guardians and allies from the far lands beyond the horizon.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When they invited you to stay here, they offered you the choicest lands from among the fertile, abundant holdings of all Aedlin, blessed by the gods.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The commander’s eyebrow went up at, ‘invited’.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“His majesty gave you and your men your every desire up to half his kingdom.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His majesty put every resource at your disposal.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His majesty made known to you every mystery.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His majesty withheld nothing from his worthy protectors but freely gave as you had need.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Rizzlethop collected himself.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He stood a few inches less than the Union commander even drawn up to his full height.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He held his tail firmly in check to not give away his agitation.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Yet, His Majesty finds himself grossly uninformed as to the mystery of this night and day’s activity.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Is there a question in there, sir?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The impudence!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“What is the meaning of this?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“This?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Rizzlethop waved his hands taking in the soldiers, the walking machines which lumbered all over the city, the massive trucks which cracked the paving stones, the electric birds, electric bugs, electric horses and mules and dogs which seemed to be everywhere like a plague of locusts and frogs together.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“This!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>All of this!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The commander, Nakba, Rizzlethop reminded himself, looked around as if seeing all of ‘this’ for the first time.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Maneuvers.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Maneuvers.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Yes,” the commander said, “maneuvers.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“This is all some,” Rizzlethop struggled to find the right military jargon, “training…thing?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Sure.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Sure.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Look, your excellency, I’m a busy guy, gotta empire to protect.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If we’re just going to stand here in the street and repeat what each other say…”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“What have you done to our children!?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Your..I’m sorry, what?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“What is happening to our children?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Rizzlethop rephrased the question and lowered his voice.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There wasn’t much chance of them being overheard by passerby with the soldiers keeping everyone at a distance with their raucous machinery but even royal guards have ears, and families, and those families have mouths which reach other ears…</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“I’m afraid I don’t know what your asking.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Please tell me what has happened.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Rizzlethop stepped back next to the palanquin and listened.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He nodded, stepped forward to prominence again, “Some of our children have taken ill.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“I fail to see how that’s any doing of ours.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“It is…an unusual illness.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“And?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Rizzlethop was called back to the palanquin.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The commander stepped toward them and he jumped back in the way to head the barbarian off.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Mummified, commandant protector!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They have been mummified in a single night.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Wrapped up?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What are we talking about here?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">A voice, shrill and angry, burst from behind Rizzlethop, he bowed his head and moved to the side.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Desiccated, O Worthy Protector!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Desiccated in a single night!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Savoy the Eminent.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I’m sorry, Ascendant.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I did not realize you had come yourself.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What are you telling me?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>How many children?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Does it matter?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One is too many!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Especially when that one is the heir!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Your heir, was..?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Sucked.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dry.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Nakba stood very still.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Or at least his feet did not move, which were all Rizzlethop could see of them from his obeisant position.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The silence between them held.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Rizzlethop stole a peek, the commander’s face was grim, dire grim.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The face of one who has seen the first muddy water pulled from the well and knows that the next one or the next after that will pull no water at all, but only sand and cobwebs.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">When the commander sprung to life it was jarring and instant like a restarted machine at full throttle.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“I’m deeply sorry, Your Imperial Majesty!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You have my deepest condolences and the condolences of my masters, your servants!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We shall do everything within our power to end this as quickly as possible and will remove our threatening presence from your blessed valley this instant!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He did something to his helmet, “Ops, give me full command override, now.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Now!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>All units, the Sea is Red.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Repeat, the Sea is Red.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Over.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Ops: repeat that command until you have confirmation from everyone…. everyone.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He took two steps back, bowed, “Your excellency, please know this is being taken care of.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You have nothing to fear.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He turned on his heel, did not wait for his retinue to fall in with him and boarded one of the now roaring trucks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They, the walking machines, the electric locusts and the electric frogs all leapt up and flew away in a cloud of dust and engine smog.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Savoy looked around him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Blinked in the dusty and deafened aftermath.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Looked at Rizzlethop, “Well, what the very hell is going on, Steward?”</span></span></div>
<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-19020316259176068002019-03-02T10:38:00.001-08:002019-03-02T10:46:33.111-08:0036: Sparrows Before Bulls<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The command vehicle stopped.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Major,” his driver said. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Yes?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Got a sitch up here.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Nakba looked up at his wall of screens, his eyes climbing to the driver’s and gunner’s viewcams.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There in the early morning light, blocking the armored column like sparrows before bulls, stood a blurry but familiar trio.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He tried to focus the image some but it didn’t get any better. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVmXGxGx-atOjaPxyFw1GMomZXe8GNJbm_ncfNM9BVLBSL4L7SGw8ttSg23BdBFvj3obtIQBV1m2AqQfns4tn00r4n4MQAcCy9LllStEs8B0rNUldcY-YqxqDTgNOszKmyWQ4nVsj_snW9/s1600/IMG_0555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVmXGxGx-atOjaPxyFw1GMomZXe8GNJbm_ncfNM9BVLBSL4L7SGw8ttSg23BdBFvj3obtIQBV1m2AqQfns4tn00r4n4MQAcCy9LllStEs8B0rNUldcY-YqxqDTgNOszKmyWQ4nVsj_snW9/s400/IMG_0555.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Looks like our girl has decided to come home on her own,” said a radio operator, Nakba couldn’t remember her name.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He fumbled some painkillers out of his vest pouch and washed them down with cold coffee.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Do we call off the search, Major?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Not yet,” he croaked.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His voice lower due to lack of sleep.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Loss of consciousness didn’t count as sleep.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Let them keep looking.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“For what?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“For whatever they find,” he keyed up the column command frequency, “D and D; cordon the area but do not engage and do not pressure the subjects.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Just keep everybody else out and them in…” he toggled off, “..hopefully.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He watched them watch the soldiers disembark and disperse a moment.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He tried and failed to gauge the threat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The woman betrayed as much as the sand above a buried scorpion.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The child looked nervous, shifting feet and hiding behind Ch’loi.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The former camp cook was probably another pint away from being a corpse.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” he muttered.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Sir?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">He pulled his helmet on and even cinched it down tight.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He tested the com, “Fourth quarter, game’s on the line.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The operators gave him a thumb’s up and so he punched the hatch and picked up his bodyguard waiting for him outside.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He added to their numbers as they walked down the line to the lead vehicle, gathering nearly a full platoon before they walked through the forest of legs of the walking-tanks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Overhead a flock of drones kept long range watch.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In between their orbit and the ground, a swarm of gnat-drones flew in and out in seeming random patterns.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was all a ridiculously impressive response for one tiny female, a street urchin and dying blind guy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The platoon fanned out.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Nakba stepped into the ring.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He locked eyes with Ch’loi.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“What?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">She cocked her head, “One has not spoken yet?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“What-do you want?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>i’m busy so make it quick.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One desires safe passage for One’s companions and self.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Oh, we’re running a taxi service now?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She said nothing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Why would we take you anywhere?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One has information the Major requires.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Nope, nope.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Nope.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Don’t care anymore.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He turned to walk away, only a little unsteady.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One has come to warn the Major.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">He was glad to have a reason to stop.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His body came to a halt but the world swayed a little.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Warn away.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“A Swarm is imminent.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“A swarm?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He took a deep breath to settle his stomach.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“A-“ but whatever she was about to say was drowned out at that moment by a fanfare of trumpets and a radio operator in Nakba’s headset saying, “Major, there’s a local delegation moving our way from the South.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Picket is asking for orders and rules of engagement.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Ah joy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Tell them to let them through, and then shut the door behind them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fire only if fired upon.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He suppressed a sigh and a desire to lean against something, he was nauseated and his head ached, even with the painkillers but indecision and weakness were nothing to show the enemy or for that matter, his own men.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What to do with Our Lady of Oneness and her mission of mercy?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Couldn’t have them talking to the Grand Poo-bah, Mucky-muck, vizier, whatever these desert vermin called their chief.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Corrupt, is what they should call them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Whatever he wanted, he didn’t need his attention split between them or the Mucky-muck finding a new ally.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“You wanna lift?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She cocked her head.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“A ride.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You want us to take you back to the mainland?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One would be grateful.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Swell.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sargent!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Sir.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Load her Gratefulness and her luggage on carrier three and have your squad keep them company there.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The man nodded and turned to go, “Oh, Sarge!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Sir?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“They are our guests, you understand?” he held the Sargent’s gaze, Sergeants didn’t become NCO’s by being dumb and oblivious to nuance.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At least he hoped this one hadn’t.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Sir.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“That’ll be all then,"<span class="Apple-converted-space"> a</span>s they were safely dealt with Nakba caught his first glimpse of what appeared to be a royal procession, bloody palanquin and gold plated honor guard and all.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Alright, what does this moron want?”</span></span></div>
<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-40438719578368833092019-02-28T17:46:00.002-08:002019-02-28T17:46:45.926-08:0035: The Last Boat Out<style type="text/css">
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<div class="p1">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38GbHitNfBW9kuRDDq-Xtr_1MDdLFIC21kyPUziNNA7cik29hUv0mzPElidepD27Tf60-z9LFLXYGo062ySqBXAjKSuleW0EV7RRYM6AoTh4xPtlrR4v6U5iovvKyStvkuMHYd_SUKykm/s1600/B0D5AE98-C490-41F8-B6BE-95EC2B35DE3A.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38GbHitNfBW9kuRDDq-Xtr_1MDdLFIC21kyPUziNNA7cik29hUv0mzPElidepD27Tf60-z9LFLXYGo062ySqBXAjKSuleW0EV7RRYM6AoTh4xPtlrR4v6U5iovvKyStvkuMHYd_SUKykm/s320/B0D5AE98-C490-41F8-B6BE-95EC2B35DE3A.jpeg" width="239" /></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>A blur of feathers and shadow startled the child.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It swooped over their heads and onto a unlit lamp post. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In fact, no light shone anywhere in this grubby part of the city.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The weird lady made them walk down the middle of the street.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And though it was dark, the child felt horribly exposed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As though the jackal buzzard were not the only predator sizing them up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And as soon as she thought this shadows came out of the buildings and stood around them, shadows in the shape of men.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“Is it you?” one of them asked.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“Were it someone else,” the man with them answered.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“We were beginning to doubt you would make it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Come, the Captain is anxious to be on the move well before dawn.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“A minute,” the man’s wife stopped her husband and handed him their dead child.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then she grabbed the weapon from one of the shadow men and pointed it at the lady.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“Laperte!” the husband yelled.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>All of the other shadowmen pointed their guns now but no one quite knew where to point them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The man stood between his wife and the lady.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The lady did not move.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She did not put down Ch’Byartha.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Laperte!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Don’ do this!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“Move.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“Laperte, mon cher’, this is not our way!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This is not what we do!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It will not bring her back!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He stayed between the gun and the lady, still cradling his baby.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“Her people killed my child!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She said so herself!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I will do this, a life for a life!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“You of all people!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You are trained to save life, not take it!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It solves nothing!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They are under our care!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The laws..”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“What laws?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What laws?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Laws didn’t save my daughter!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What laws!” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Their voices echoed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The shadowmen shifted their feet.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Someone whispered to the man.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The child wanted to run but felt tied to Ch’Byartha.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Would they shoot her?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She knew names now, had seen faces.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She had run the streets long enough to know the underworld killed to protect secrets.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“Laperte, lower your voice.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Lower the gun.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We must go.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We must not do this now.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We must not draw the attention.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We must leave.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Now.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The gun did not waver.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The voice did lower, to a menacing whisper, “She does not go.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“Laperte..”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“She does not go!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The shoulders slumped, “she does not go, oui.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The gun lowered, the woman, Laperte, took back the baby.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He turned to the lady, “I am very sorry.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“One understands.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“The child and the wounded one stay as well,” Laperte said over her shoulder.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“Bon Dieu!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Laperte, what?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“They came together.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They brought l’Vampire.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They stay!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>One of the shadowmen said, “Les Consummateurs?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The shadowmen moved away.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their weapons focused on the lady, Ch’Byartha and the herself now.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The man sighed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Again.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am sorry.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They began disappearing back into the shadows.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their weapons the last things to be seen.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After a while, even the jackal buzzard lifted off and flew away.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They stood alone in the dark until a small sound drew the child to the end of the street.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were on outer wall of the city, she hadn’t realized till just now.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Between the iron pickets she could just make out a mule team pulling a sandboat away.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She could see nothing more but she knew it was the smugglers’ boat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The man and the woman and her dead baby escaped on it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The last boat out.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The last chance to go West.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Before her lay the Sand Sea which could drink a body dry in a week, behind the things that drank babies dry in a night.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>She screamed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She threw punches at the woman.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Y’coulda stopped dem!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Ya lettem go!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The woman said nothing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After a while, the child collapsed against Ch’Byartha’s shrouded body.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He groaned something which almost sounded like words.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“He gunna die.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We gunna die.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The lady said nothing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She pulled one of the iron pickets loose and hurled it at the night sky.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A Legion machine fell nearby, skewered like a kabob.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The lady went over and looked at it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Those who carry illicit cargos are not the only ones with the means to leave the city.”</span></span></div>
<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-45967378887254668782018-08-13T12:59:00.001-07:002018-08-13T12:59:41.825-07:0034 One
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The strange, little woman appeared as if from nowhere in the alley where they were hiding.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She and Hova spoke.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Something was decided.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Laperte did not care.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She held her child, her precious baby girl, so light, so wrong, so dead in her arms and wept.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She could not stop.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She could not see where she was going.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The little waif that came with the woman led her by the sleeve.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They would go, they would stop, they would wait, they would run, they would skulk.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>All the while, Laperte carried her baby and wept to herself.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If only her tears could swell the child’s husk back to life.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If only she could give her own blood to revive her heart’s treasure.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At last they stopped.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They told her to sit.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She sat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She cradled her child’s body and sang a lullaby.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hova came to her then.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Cherie,” he worked his mouth.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It had nothing to say.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“What did this?” she asked.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“We will wait here, a friend of mine is preparing passage for us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We must leave the city.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“What did this?” she asked again.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Cherie, it is no use.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Perhaps we should..”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Do not!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Do not try and manage me!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Do not shush me!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What did this?” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">He hung his head, “Les Consommateurs.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Les Vampires?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They are myths!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Myths do not suck children dry!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She stood up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She glared about and found the strange little woman.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“You!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You know!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What did this?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What .. ate my child?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The woman met her gaze, “The answer is complex.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Simplify it!”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“There is a greater evil imminent.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It chose to deny its master the youngling.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It thought this a kindness.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“It.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Thought.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Laperte stood over the little woman.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She loomed over her.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She thrust her dead baby at her and held it inches from her face.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“This!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This is a kindness??”</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ZIT7LdS4eYLtX8yLk4rPIzv6RlMwR_0Gnv3NqucAPnYC8EkubpIfbVWkk8bUqzExOquEW5P1S296y0OKiXNApM67Rtu9aYMnlw3OspBS4dInac-QF2tXeIlza9mpzrO9wphLZ0SBN5U6/s1600/IMG_3464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ZIT7LdS4eYLtX8yLk4rPIzv6RlMwR_0Gnv3NqucAPnYC8EkubpIfbVWkk8bUqzExOquEW5P1S296y0OKiXNApM67Rtu9aYMnlw3OspBS4dInac-QF2tXeIlza9mpzrO9wphLZ0SBN5U6/s320/IMG_3464.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“It is what it thought.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The woman did not blink.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Did not shrink back.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Did not show any emotion that Laperte could see.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“What did this?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Laperte,” Hova tried to step in, “this is peu serviable.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Please.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Please.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“She knows.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Of course she knows.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Now please, sit down.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Not until she tells me what she knows.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Laperte..”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“Not until she tells me!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Laperte stepped around Hova and faced off again with the alien woman whose face beheld her dead baby without tears, without anguish, without care!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“What did this?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One’s kin.”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">“One’s?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Whose?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Whose kin?”</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">The woman finally blinked.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She slowly raised one hand which still wore a broken manacle.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She touched her own breastbone.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“One.”</span></span></div>
<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-80229122074122030172018-01-29T04:11:00.000-08:002018-01-29T04:11:01.533-08:00sorry for the delayi know, i know,<br />
<br />
it's still not a new chapter... though i've been trying to get back to it. <br />
<br />
Here's another crappy monotooth illustration instead, sorry.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZkTv8q-EERQuzkpfm9GUjpoVi5fPF-Kg5Q0X1Rx1SKRGu20qAk1Jrvv5xt1vUGZTTPFVOuizNX1Yb5DGhM_-hMYhIK-42191QX9ZUks_HpnlxpZJEnEqV7QWqFIBlBUYH32a6Am8d5Ifr/s1600/IMG_0025.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZkTv8q-EERQuzkpfm9GUjpoVi5fPF-Kg5Q0X1Rx1SKRGu20qAk1Jrvv5xt1vUGZTTPFVOuizNX1Yb5DGhM_-hMYhIK-42191QX9ZUks_HpnlxpZJEnEqV7QWqFIBlBUYH32a6Am8d5Ifr/s320/IMG_0025.PNG" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-65713509308236772922018-01-09T03:17:00.000-08:002018-01-09T03:17:09.714-08:00If wishes were time to write and draw...Nothing new to post but intentions and hopes...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OWvPksaR7_8iIAQleiOR3f27TpRgwUUFOTbxHzUBfwC4XEwRqVCZHAlf8DEL9NqbgaqHKAv1mPTPgC1soIn68wlulsM1jvNyo3m21kj85QlqS9OB-BonnfRHzzTp06d6cgZmNh5X-j6i/s1600/IMG_0010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1406" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OWvPksaR7_8iIAQleiOR3f27TpRgwUUFOTbxHzUBfwC4XEwRqVCZHAlf8DEL9NqbgaqHKAv1mPTPgC1soIn68wlulsM1jvNyo3m21kj85QlqS9OB-BonnfRHzzTp06d6cgZmNh5X-j6i/s320/IMG_0010.jpg" width="281" /></a></div>
And this hideous digital painting of Ch'loi without her headcovering.scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-77859414186504015832017-09-28T17:49:00.001-07:002017-09-28T17:49:47.779-07:0033: Sisters<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Overwhelmed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Too much was happening too fast.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The one known as Ch’loi did not know how to react.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One’s primary purpose had been to preserve the life of one’s guide.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One had taken the secondary purpose of preserving the life of the child.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>These mysterious benefactors had provided security and aid to one, the guide and the child.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One owed them a debt of thanks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One added them to one’s circle of preservation and purpose.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“The circle must go,” Ch’loi told the man and the woman.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“What?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Only the man could answer and but weakly.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The woman was distraught over it’s infant’s husk.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“Bring one’s kin, there is much danger here.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hurry.”</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“What are you talking about?” the man asked.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“Those which drank the infant are… imminent.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The man made no move.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One would have to compel the circle to move.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Hey!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Let go of-“ Ch’loi grabbed the man and the woman together, nearly throwing them out the door, “Child, come!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The child thankfully, responded.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Take the man and woman outside, keep in the open, keep in the light.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Wait for One there.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“Whutta Ch’Byartha?”</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrQN5e7hzPVxyYSBmm7DMaiXh5yshCjIEIc4vMpgiOfKOXa8zVHd-i9NTzbK8Tzr0tQzRBdpnxt7duSiIyJCGNYESYJKzX6FpO3dULWviaGI_EgfS_BoCfE95dDpllP1IInVFJ8Lzrh6J7/s1600/37333665996_66c86d3fac_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1590" data-original-width="1600" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrQN5e7hzPVxyYSBmm7DMaiXh5yshCjIEIc4vMpgiOfKOXa8zVHd-i9NTzbK8Tzr0tQzRBdpnxt7duSiIyJCGNYESYJKzX6FpO3dULWviaGI_EgfS_BoCfE95dDpllP1IInVFJ8Lzrh6J7/s320/37333665996_66c86d3fac_o.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="s1">“One will bring the guide when one comes, if one is able.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Go.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The child took the man and woman by the clothes and pulled them down the stairs.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The one known as Ch’loi shut the door, drew the long knife one had taken from the kitchen on the way upstairs and looked up into the darkness overhead.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“One is aware of the Harvester’s presence.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>To remain hidden is irrelevant.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It unfolded itself from its hiding place, a thin, spidery shadow among shadows and dropped to the floor in a crouch but it did not attack.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It simply waited, anxious and maybe a bit afraid.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“One drank the infant?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The harvester chopped once in the harvester sign language for yes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Is one a scout?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Again the chop.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Yet one has the reek of kinslayer.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was a slight bowing of the head.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Shame.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Has one betrayed one’s kin?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>An aggressive slash!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>No!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Has one.. betrayed one’s Factor?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Chop-yes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So this harvester had rebelled against the hive order but felt as if it had not betrayed its kin.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Its… sisters.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The word came suddenly to Ch’loi.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It caught her by surprise.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It rushed into her mind like those first words of the Firemaker so long ago!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It caught in Ch’loi’s mind with barbed meaning and sharp memories.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It stuck.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It tore.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It hurt.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“Did you…” she wanted to ask, why?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why have you become kinslayer-betrayer?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But how to put that into a binary series of questions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Are one’s kin with one?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Slash-no.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Imminent?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Yes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Is one’s… Factor imminent?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Chop, chop, chop!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Yes, yes, yes!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Ch’loi felt the cold prickling of an old familiar fear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“How many?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Kinslayer knocked it’s footbone against the floor.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Thud,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>thud,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>thud,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>thud,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>thud,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>thud,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>thud.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Seven.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Yahweh have mercy!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Seven Factors imminent!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A swarm!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Given a large enough food source it would become a new hive! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">And it was here in Aedlin.</span></div>
scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-66778296979617565022017-09-06T18:35:00.003-07:002017-09-06T18:40:00.892-07:0032: Breaking loose<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzWkQX2RIoEotNWwdA3j0MpkChekupPUaTiFW36eLbjQFSLWfyKvZM6RM139D_TkBUjJTFnQSJnfO9umFfLSnv0NlfsqQW2Ym-VJMI1VhbeM7WeETxmWnpy4X9UEpqaQaqSSQMoy54DDD/s1600/32+anguish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1030" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzWkQX2RIoEotNWwdA3j0MpkChekupPUaTiFW36eLbjQFSLWfyKvZM6RM139D_TkBUjJTFnQSJnfO9umFfLSnv0NlfsqQW2Ym-VJMI1VhbeM7WeETxmWnpy4X9UEpqaQaqSSQMoy54DDD/s320/32+anguish.jpg" width="206" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Discovery.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The meat animals entered the room where the Kinslayer hid.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A mature and a youngling, the mature went straight to the former youngling, the one the Kinslayer had drank. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">It shrieked.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Its wail tore something loose in the Kinslayer.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Something buried deep.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A memory.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A memory of a night, long ago.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Of a kin, no, not kin, not kin… a … person. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">More meat animals rushed into the room.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was here!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The One-who-traded-corpses-for-food and another came in.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This was it!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Kinslayer’s purpose!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One had succeeded in finding the One-who-traded-corpses!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fear!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Panic!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Need!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One needed to act.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One was afraid.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One was unsure.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The meat animals were alarmed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Unpredictable.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Likelly to attack as a clutch.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Success required control.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One preferred to wait.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>To get the One-who-traded-corpses alone.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One remained in one’s hiding place. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Then the Kinslayer heard it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was too late.</span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">They had come.</span></span></div>
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scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-53683770199993319642017-08-31T04:16:00.001-07:002017-08-31T04:16:50.714-07:0031: Contrebande<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Bha’ar brought the wagon into the barn. She dismounted in a controlled fall, Hova noticed. She limped out into the lamp lit evening crowd of the dusty dockside street. Once they would have been porters and mariners and debardeurs and compatables and masters and merchants engaged in the loading and unloading of the boats and skiffs that plied back and forth from the capitol to the rest of the empire. The beating heart of trade which went on day and night, now beat but listlessly, and that only in the daylight. Now there were just putains of one variety or another, parasites all feeding off one another. Some submitting willingly, some not so much. Hova watched them now, grading them, measuring them, looking for the one which might be showing any interest in the comings and goings of a peddler and her wagon. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Most nights Bha’ar would start a conversation with some passerby which she would then take to the inn. It established alibis. It made her a fixture in the community. Above suspicion. This night with everyone in nervous spirits over the activity at the Post de légion, the conversation started itself when someone commented on her limp. Hova watched her pantomime the incident from his balcony across the street, making a great show of it, drawing a bit of a crowd. Someone suggested she needed a drink to calm her nerves and nearly every layabout and gossip followed them up to the inn. Well done. Less eyes around the barn. Less ears to overhear. Hova sipped his expresso and watched them all go up the hill and out of sight. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He went inside, downstairs he found Laperte in the kitchen and dropped off his cup. “We will be having guests tonight.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“How many?”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Three long term, but I assume there will be a soirée,” he opened the door to the basement.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Three? Man? Woman? Both?”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He shrugged, “The bird was not specific.” Meaning the note brought by Bha’ar’s jackal-buzzard before she arrived. Laperte made a noise of disgust for him to hear and then quite a few more just for herself, like she always did. They had been married long enough now that he no longer tried to assuage her irritation. Better to let it burn itself out. He descended the steps making no light. Opened the crate, moved the rugs and opened the secret door which dropped into the tunnel. Hova walked the length of the tunnel, listened at its ceiling for a long moment to determine if anyone was in the barn. Hearing nothing, he removed the bars and opened the overhead doors and there was the bottom of Bha’ar’s wagon. He unlocked the smuggling hatch and backed out of the way. There was a pause and then a slim, small shadow dropped down into the tunnel. He could not be sure in the darkness, but still he thought the shadow looked right at him, sizing him up. That would be paranoid. No one could see in this darkness without the equipment which the Legion kept for itself. The shadow reached back up into the wagon and carefully lowered a bag of some sort. Finally an even smaller shadow dropped lightly down. Hova waited. No one else came out. He maneuvered around them and looked inside the wagon. It was empty. He closed the hatch and then the tunnel door, replacing the bars.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">At last he uncovered his lantern, just a little, so they could all see each other. A woman and a child looked back at him. “I thought,” he said, “there was to be three.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The woman uncovered what Hova had mistaken as a bag. Hova cursed as loudly as he dared. The Question, ‘What the hell happened to him?’ nearly popped out of his mouth, but his cardinal rule was: Ask No Questions. The less he and Laperte knew, the less involved they could get. The less they involved they were, the safer. The woman spoke, “One’s guide needs medical attention.” </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Oui, oui, of course,” always best to promise anything to keep the contrebande calm and quiet. He covered the lantern again and led them back through the tunnel, up into his basement, replacing the rugs and lid of the crate. Then up the stairs and into the house’s little kitchen. “Femme,” they used no names in front of the contrebande, “heat water!” An extravagant request, water was only used for two things in Aedlin. Drinking and washing wounds. He cleared the table, “lay your injured here.” The woman brought the wounded man over and Hova was startled by how easily she carried him. There was more here than surfaces would suggest.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Laperte went to work, washing and exposing more and more wounds, muttering with each new discovery, first in the clinical way she learned as a nurse years ago, under the last emperor, then in shock at the extent, finally in anger as it became clear these were not accidental. When she had set whatever bones she felt confident to set, salved the burns, stitched the deep cuts, peered into every orifice for the hidden damage, bandaged the lot, had them move him to a couch by the fire, and smothered him in blankets she dropped into a chair exhausted. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Izzy gunna die?” the child asked. It was the first time either of them had spoke.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“He needs blood. He needs scans. He needs hospital,” Laperte told them. “Who -“ </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Hova cleared his throat and cut her off. “Perhaps you are hungry? I know I am.” Laperte made no move. Her eyes said much. “You have worked very hard, dear. Please sit, I will get it.” He brought out some left over pork, rice and vegetables with a half loaf of day old bread and a bit of milk. “You have seen food before, non?” He asked the child when he set a plate in front of her.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Izdis alla f’r me?” </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Oui. Just don’t eat my hand!” </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Will the child be necessary for your soirée?” Laperte asked him watching the girl eat.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Doubtful.” </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“When she is done eating, I will make her a pallet in the baby’s room.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“When she is done eating, I believe, will be when we are out of food in the house, unless she eats us!” He meant it as a joke. No one laughed.</span></div>
scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-45621923456180221522017-08-20T18:05:00.000-07:002017-08-20T18:05:10.438-07:0030: a Sensible Search<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="color: #93c47d;">Fear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One was a fool.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>How could one harvester search such a hive in just a few nights.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If all the Effective Clutch was with One, it together would not be able to search this sprawling, multi-level hive in a moon cycle!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The scents and signatures all blended together and disappeared into the desert, blown away by the wind.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Collective Hive was laid out in such a way as to aid a Harvester’s senses, the wind trapped, manipulated.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One could follow one’s sense of smell to the hatchery or to the Factors’ feeding chamber or to and entrance.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The scents weren’t jumbled, overlapped, confused as they were here.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One needed a plan.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One needed one’s clutchmates.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One needed information one did not have.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Knowledge of the meat animals’ hive and its workings.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One had no time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One had no aid.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One was one.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One was inadequate.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: #93c47d;">The Kinslayer had avoided the hornet’s hive-camp.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One feared.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Purpose required one alive, one must be successful.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Detection or injury by the hornets would doom the mission.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Harvesters stalked and drank hornet animals when necessary.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If the Need had been greater, more pressing, if prey wasn’t in such abundance, one would have overcome one’s fear. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: #93c47d;">Interesting, the Kinslayer thought, One thought a lot now, which had been last night’s interesting thought, One was more vulnerable to fear and self-preservation when one’s crop was full.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One was in danger of indulging One’s fears.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One’s safety was not more important than the Purpose.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One could suppress fear when One was in the thrall of the Need.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Kinslayer felt it had been remiss.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One would search the hornet animal’s camp!</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: #93c47d;">Tomorrow.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Tonight the hornet camp was alert and a wailing fear sound emanated from it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hornets and their machines were swarming out into the meat animal city.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Perhaps there would be time to search it the next day.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>No, but soon, the search would have to be stepped up, the Swarm could not be far off now.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One would have to search during the day as well.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Kinslayer added fear of searching during the day to its growing list of dreads. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: #93c47d;">Feed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Drink.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hunt, stalk, subdue.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Feeding soothed the Need.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It hushed the fear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Kinslayer crept from shadow to shadow, staying up out of eyesight.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The meat animals custom of building their chambers up and separate like small, stunted hive spires made staying above their sight line much easier.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Eaves and roofs hid the Kinslayer from view.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Meat animals seldom looked up, if one moved slowly; One had observed meat animal’s vision to be drawn to movement.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Kinslayer decided to search the part of the meat hive as far from the hornet camp as possible.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One was only being sensible. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: #93c47d;">One picked up a scent of a youngling and followed it to an open window.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It slept.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One could see its cool heat signature and hear its quiet breathing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It mewled once when the tooth pierced skin but after was silent.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>No alarm was cast.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The meat animals nearby were unaware.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Kinslayer went to leave but a familiar scent caught its attention. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: #93c47d;">It was not the One-who-traded-corpses but it was associated with it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was fresh!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It had been here this day.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Its scent was everywhere.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It slept here!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was very possible it would return here tonight!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Kinslayer thought hard.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It considered possibilities.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It found a hiding perch and settled in to wait.</span></span></div>
scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-60945165699406227332017-08-05T07:07:00.000-07:002017-08-05T07:07:45.120-07:0029: No way to do business<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">They stood directly in the road, the woman with her bundle and the child, and Bha’ar was not cruel enough to run them down, though she thought it the wiser course of action. She pulled up on the reins and the mule and the wagon ground to a halt. It became silent in the road. Quiet enough to hear the alarm klaxon of the soldier camp and the buzz of its drones.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">They came to the side of the wagon. She looked down at them. She saw the broken manacles and chains. She saw the bloody lump of rags the woman carried was a horribly mangled person..or used to be. She let out her breath in disgust and pulled a lever hid under her seat. “Get in.”</span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“One requires a physician,” said the woman.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“Shut up, give me your headscarf and get in,” she ordered. The woman hesitated but obeyed. They finally climbed under the wagon where the trapdoor gave them entrance to a lined smugglers’ hold. When they were inside, she closed the door and gave the reins a snap. The mule motored to life again and the wagon crunched and bucked down the gravel road away from the soldier camp and into the outer rim of the Citadel’s town. “Not a word,” Bha’ar told the jackal-buzzard beside her on the seat. The bird just eyed her suspiciously and said nothing. When it lifted off into the falling gloom of evening she knew there must be soldiers on the road ahead. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">One of their walking tanks, a machine similar to her mule yet three times the size, straddled the road around the next bend. It’s cannon snout stayed aimed at her during her entire approach. Men on the ground stopped her and ran sensors and sniffers over the wagon. One of them showed particular interest to the underside.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“Open it,” the officer in charge ordered. Bha’ar got down off the wagon and began her sales pitch, as she opened side doors on the wagon and all of the hard to get goods and baubles for significant others and verboten contraband soldiers lusted after on long deployments far from home popped and dangled and slid out. The soldiers tried to stay professional but a certain level of distraction had been achieved. When the one with the alerted sniffer focused on the floor of the wagon, Bha’ar opened a secret compartment and slipped the woman’s headscarf from her sleeve in among the jewelry, liquor and smut inside. The soldier found the headscarf and showed it to the officer. “Where’d you get this?”</span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“A woman and a child stopped me on the road. She traded this for food. It’s good quality silk, hard to find here in Aedlin. You like it? You have a wife? Girlfriend? She would like it, yes?”</span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“Where are they now?”</span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“Who? You’re wife and girlfriend? How would I know?”</span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“The woman and the child!”</span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“Oh!” She smacked her head and then looked back the way she came. “They were on foot, heading downhill. Probably in the cemetery by now,” she pointed to the stones and mausoleums still just barely visible in the fading light far, far from where she planned to go this night.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">The officer spoke into his headset, telling his superiors what Bha’ar had said. “Alright, get this thing out of here.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“The scarf,” Bha’ar stood her ground.</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“I’m keeping it.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“That’s fine. You pay for it, you keep it.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“Get moving.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“I will, when you give me something for the scarf.” </span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">The officer looked at one of his soldiers, “Mak, give her something for the scarf.” Without a word, Mak took the butt of his rifle and drove it into Bha’ar’s belly, knocking her down and punching the wind out of her. “There. We’re square,” the officer said. “Now get your worthless pile off of my road before I give you something for all of it.” Bha’ar picked herself up, not having to feign pathetic weakness and closed the wagon back up. It took a couple of attempts to get back up into the seat. No one helped her. They just stared until she righted herself and took the reins.</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“No way to do business,” she muttered as a parting shot and got the mule and wagon moving again. When the soldiers were out of sight, the bird returned and landed beside her. “Thanks for the help, partner.” The jackal-buzzard nudged the arm she held tightly to her stomach with its head. “Hurts. But I’ll live. Thanks for asking.” They passed no more checkpoints on their way to the wharves.</span><br />
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<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-56732952242345466122017-08-01T18:41:00.002-07:002017-08-01T18:41:37.998-07:0028: Vault 6<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Subject of Inquiry #1:<br /><br /> Believes herself to be cooperative yet appears to have inability to understand line of questioning.<br /> It is not my belief that Subj #1 is impaired mentally. Emotionally is a possibility. <br /> Subj #1 displays tendencies consistent in language barrier yet appears to have perfect fluency.<br /> We know who Subj #1 is. We know where she comes from. We know where she’s been. We<br /> even know what she’s been doing: Searching for a lost relative. <br /><br /> Among the Monotooths!!<br /><br /> Why? Was this relative abducted? This line of questioning produces no leads. Subj #1 doesn’t <br /> seem to know. Or understand. Subject #1 had given up search when we picked her up. <br /> Mental state is broken, defeated, has given up. Not assets for inquisition. <br /> Transferred primary focus to…<br /><br />Subject of Inquiry #2:<br /> <br /> Found within our own compound. Trying to reach out to Subj #1. <br /> Former companion. Shipmate and only other known survivor of [omitted], lost with all hands at Sea last year to apparent Fever outbreak. Petty criminal and beggar now. <br /> Knows much more than he’s telling. Has no language barrier or emotional damage. <br /> So far, very resistant to succeeding stages of inquiry.<br /> Possible true believer symptoms. High level of emotional attachment to Subj #1. <br /> Perhaps if Subj #2 believed Subj #1 were threatened. <br /> Do not believe Subj# 1 to be emotionally attached in same way to #2.<br /><br />Major Nakba stood up and stretched. Enough paperwork. It was time to get personally involved again. This was taking too much time. Someone had deliberately poked the Monotooth nest. He needed to know why. <br /><br />“Dustin,” he called to his aide as he passed the lieutenant’s desk, “Have Subject One brought over from the box to Vault 6. It’s time to try something different here.” He himself went directly to Vault 6. It was a pod meant to be used as an ammo dump, designed to contain explosions if the worst happened and keep out the unauthorized so it made a very convenient prison cell when empty. Noises on the inside, stayed inside. People put inside, stayed inside. He rounded the corner of a barracks container and saw Vault 6.<br /><br />The guard wasn’t at the door. The door was open! He ran the rest of the way but as soon as he saw it, he skidded to a stop. The door wasn’t open. It was ripped off its track.<br /><br />The vault had been forced! The vault had been forced? What could do that? One of the heavy recovery vehicles? <br /><br />A person appeared at the doorway. A very small person carrying a bloody bundle of person nearly half again her size. She saw him.<br /><br />“Major. One requests medical treatment for One’s Guide.”<br /><br />How the hell?? Never mind! Focus! Promise her anything. Keep her talking until the cavalry showed up. Dustin will be sounding the alarm as soon as he gets to the box and sees she’s escaped. “Of course. Whatever you need.”<br /><br />“One thanks the Major.” She turned to go, a child came out of the vault behind her and they both started walking toward the gate.<br /><br />“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?”<br /><br />“One is going to seek medical attention for One’s Guide.”<br /><br />“The Medipod is this way.”<br /><br />“One does not trust medical attention administered by those who caused the damage.”<br /><br />“We’ll take good care of him. I promise.”<br /><br />“One believes the Major is insincere but thanks the Major for the offer. One will seek immediate attention in Aedlin.” She turned to go again.<br /><br />He moved to cut her off. “I can’t let you leave. You know that.”<br /><br />She stopped walking and looked him in the eye. “One regrets the Major’s decision and apologizes.”<br /><br />The last thing Major Nakba thought he heard was the child’s muffled laughter.scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-44933195295718486262017-07-29T18:50:00.001-07:002017-07-29T18:50:11.584-07:0027: kindness and the lack thereofThe child trudged right past the guards. They didn’t bother to search her anymore. Down the stone steps into the cool darkness she carried the tureen. The guard at the bottom of the steps noticed the change, alone with the prisoner he had more time on his hands and stopped her long enough to look in the pot before letting her pass. She set the pot on the table before the woman in chains and fished out a spoon from her clothes. The woman’s eyes got wide. She moved forward quickly rattling the chains in the echoing tomb and opened the lid to see the broth inside.<br /><br />“Soup.” The child jumped. The woman hardly ever talked. Or moved for that matter. The girl had just gotten the idea from watching her that she didn’t much care for the nuts and burnt crunchies Ch’Byartha usually gave her. So she’d brought some old broth with mushy veggies in it.<br /><br />“Yeah.”<br /><br />“The child does not have a straw, would it?” the woman asked. Her voice was whispery, hoarse.<br /><br />“No,” she answered, “Dinna know y’d want’n. Could bringya one next time ifya wanna?”<br /><br />“The child is kind.” The girl shrugged and turned to go as the woman picked up the spoon. This place gave her creepies. Whether the tomb or the woman or both, she didn’t care. “Will One’s Guide bring the food again?”<br /><br />“Who? Ya’mean the old blind guy?”<br /><br />“One does. The Blind One once served as a guide for One.”<br /><br />“Izzat why’re gonna kill’im? Izzat why’re torturing ‘im? ‘Cuzza you??” The woman recoiled. Sat back and looked even smaller than usual. She probably didn’t weigh any more than the girl herself.<br /><br />“The Guide is a prisoner?”<br /><br />“Yeah! Dey took’im! Dey beatin’ hell offa’im! Izzit cuzza you?”<br /><br />The woman stared at the floor while she thought. “One fears it is.”<br /><br />“Canyoo do sumpin?” The child’s eyes felt hot. “You gotta do sumpin! Izyerfault!” The woman looked at her with those eyes. The creepies got worse but she was mad and sick at the same time! She felt awful. Had felt awful since they had taken Ch’Byartha away. She would sneak close enough some nights to hear his screams. Here them crack things. She didn’t know what to do. But if this woman knew something that would get him let go… “Please! You gotta do sumpin! Dey killin’im. ‘E was gunna take me wiff’im.” She started to cry the first real tears she had cried in years, since learning to cry the fake ones which caused strangers to give her bread. <br /><br />The woman turned to the guard. “Is it true what the Child says. Is the Guide being tortured for information?”<br /><br />The big guy smirked. “Guess you should’a told the Major what he wanted to know.”<br /><br />“One told the Major everything. The Major was not satisfied. Will the Guard now take One to the Major so One might free One’s Guide?”<br /><br />“Aaaah, no. No, you can just sit here till the Major wants to see you.”<br /><br />“It is unknown when the Major will come again. One’s Guide is suffering now.”<br /><br />“Yeah, not my problem.”<br /><br />The woman put the cover back on the tureen and placed it carefully next to her chair. “Is this viewpoint likely to be shared by the Guard’s companions outside?”<br /><br />“Yeah, nobody letting you out of here.”<br /><br />“One regrets the Guard’s lack of compassion and One apologizes.”<br /><br />“For w-“ It was dark. The child’s vision was blurred with tears. Most of what happened next she could not see well but not for either of those reasons. It was over far too quickly.<br /><br />“Will the Child show One to the Injured Guide?”<br /><br />“Wha?” she rubbed her eyes. All three guards were laying in a heap on the floor. The woman was standing before her holding one of the legs of the table and offering her hand. The chains dangled broken from her bloody wrists and ankles. <br /><br />“Please, take One to the Guide.” As they left, the woman retrieved the tureen.<br />
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<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-87730023302723032242017-07-29T14:16:00.005-07:002017-07-29T14:16:51.095-07:0026: the KinslayerLong before the Kinslayer arrived where the slain kin had danced the hive of the meat animals lay, the heady, damp spoor of them caused the Need to whip up like a brewing storm. So many manys of scents! More than the stinger’s camp. More than the hive in the trading post. The senses of the Kinslayer were nearly overwhelmed. One had to stop and pant and concentrate upon the Purpose or it would slip away. Be buried like one grain of sand in a shifting dune. Sift. Sift the scents. Find the Necessary one.<br /><br />In the cooling night, the heat bloom of the hive of the meat animals became visible like moonrise as it crawled on. Staying low as the winds threatened to whip it away. Testing continually for the spoor which mattered. The Necessary one. <br /><br />The drone of a stinger’s machine bird caused one to bury deep and hold still until it passed, even stopping One’s internal organs. There were dangerous animals in this hive. Those-which-hunted-harvesters. One must truly focus. Choke down the Need. Quiet One’s internal turmoil of Need and Purpose for the most base purpose and need: survival. All went bl-<br /><br />…<br /><br />-ack and then all came back slowly, quietly, carefully as One’s processes came back to life. Senses stretching to detect threat. If there were the metal birds, there would be the undrinkable lizards, the metal ears, the long eyes, all the tricks of the Hunters-of-Harvesters including the Hunters themselves in their metal animals, armored, stinging, dangerous. Shepherding their flocks of Harvester-hunting-machines. One crawled low and slowly through the troughs between dunes. One went wide around when One encountered a machine or an animal-within-a-machine. One was careful. More careful than one could ever remember being. The Purpose had given the Kinslayer…a thought it had no cast, dance or sign for. Purpose. Mission. Primary Order. Need. All these and none of these and more than these.<br /><br />Just before sunrise, the hive of the meat animals became visible. A dying oasis. Muddy standing water and drying trees surrounded by the stone nests of the meat animals and a camp of the Stinging-hunters just outside. The Kinslayer ached to begin the search. To move into the hive and find the scent of the Necessary one. It rivaled the Need. It rivaled the Fear of having rebelled against the Collective. It rivaled the Fear of the Factor. One was Enemy-of-kin. One was Kinslayer and Harvester-no-longer and all because of the Purpose. The Need-to-find-the-Necessary-One. <br /><br />One needed to be patient. The Effective Clutch, broken now, would inform the Factor of the existence of the hive of the meat animals sometime in the next cycle. The Swarm would then assemble for an all out assault. It would take time. The Kinslayer had maybe two or three cycles to search before the Swarm came. All depended upon the Kinslayer. <br /><br />The sun broke the edge of the desert. The heat came like an angry Factor. The light meant no cover and dryness for One’s crop. One must conserve. One must be patient. One buried One’s self and calmed One’s processes. All went bl-<br />
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<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-30727972959349324202017-07-24T03:06:00.001-07:002017-07-24T03:06:20.953-07:0025 No one of consequenceThe new prisoner was trundled in and his manacles were locked to a heavy, weighted iron chair. Then the guards left. The Major affected not to notice for at least ten minutes. Then he hit record on his pad, set it upon his desk and rocked back in his chair. “Who are you?” Major Nakba asked the blind man.<br /><br />“I am Ch’Byartha, Major. I work in the mess tent.”<br /><br />“Yes, I know. You showed up on our doorstep about two weeks ago looking for work. Before that you were a scullion in the House Al-Ghafil near the citadel. Before that you were a vagrant beggar, suspected pickpocket and confidence man, and a street performer on the wharves. You bought passage here on a skiff owned by the Lightfoot Street Mercantile Collaborative in East Avalon, where you were also a vagrant beggar, suspected pickpocket and confidence man, and a street performer on the docks. It is who you were before you washed up among the flotsam and jetsam that collects in such places I am most curious about.”<br /><br />“No one of consequence, I can assure you.”<br /><br />“And the prisoner we have in the Mausoleum. Is she no one of consequence?”<br /><br />“To some I suppose.”<br /><br />“To you?”<br /><br />“Hardly even that.” The cook’s voice was even and smooth, he didn’t miss a beat. If he was lying, he was skilled. Exactly as one might suspect an actor or confidence man might be.<br /><br />“She seems to think you are someone. What was it she was apologizing for when you brought her meal yesterday?”<br /><br />“Damned if I know,” he shrugged. “Sounded as if she was dealing with some guilt issues. A heavy conscience is difficult to bear. Perhaps she sees what she wants to see, someone to confess to and unload her burden.”<br /><br />“A very pat and probable theory.”<br /><br />“A simple one, major. The simplest answer has the best chance of being the correct one, I find.” <br /><br />“Do you?” The Major sat silent for a bit to see what the blind man would do. Silences, long, awkward and the more uncomfortable the better, were some of his favorite interrogation tools. The human imagination, especially a guilty one, was his greatest ally. They could concoct greater horrors than he could if he just gave them time. Anticipated pain hurt more than the real thing. And apparently, guilty consciences felt a need to unload their burdens. This one however sat and smiled like a saint with a golden ticket to Elysium and the utmost confidence in the train schedule. <br /><br />Which meant he was guilty as sin. Even the innocent sweated in interrogation. Take the right tone with a dog and it still tucked its tail and bowed its head as if it has peed on the rug. This one was wagging his like he was deaf as well as blind.<br />“I’ve heard,” said the Major, breaking the silence first, as abruptly as he could to see if the man would jump. He did not. “that those who survive Fever, sometimes go blind as a result.”<br /><br />“I’ve heard that too.”<br /><br />“Did you?”<br /><br />“Go blind?”<br /><br />“Contract Fever,” the Major answered.<br /><br />“Not that I recall.”<br /><br />“Have you sailed the Sea before, Mr. Ch’Byartha?”<br /><br />“A time or two.”<br /><br />“Have you ever been to the Last Caravanserai?”<br /><br />“I don’t know, what does it sound like?”<br /><br />“Do you know any royalty?” <br />
<br />“I know some who act like they are.”<br /><br />“Did you sail on the catamaran sloop Advisor with the Viceroy’s daughter in the spring of last year?”<br /><br />“If she’s pregnant, then the answer is, ‘no.’”<br /><br />“Are you the Merchant Prince Kurga Din Allorowro Vela D’Pomani D’Moro?”<br /><br />“Lord, I hope not! I should never learn to write down a name that long.”<br /><br />“A pity, his family is looking for him.”<br /><br />“If I see him, I’ll be sure to tell him.”<br /><br />“You are a witty fellow.” The Major stood up, walked around the desk and sat on the arm of the interrogation chair. His bulk loomed over the prisoner. His face now only inches away. “A sense of humor can be of great use during torture. At least in the early stages. You will tell me what I want to know. Eventually. We can force you to admit the truth. Lies can be peeled off as easily as skin.” He ran one finger along the manacled arm. “Boiled away. Cut from a guilty conscience slice by slice.”<br /><br />“Oh I don’t doubt that. What I do doubt is your great concern over the identity of a vagrant beggar, suspected pickpocket and confidence man, and street performer who now moonlights as a scullion.”<br /><br />“I tire of your games Mr. Din Allorowro.”<br /><br />“Then perhaps you should ask me something you actually wish to know.”<br /><br />“Who is she?”<br /><br />“Oh dear.” The blind man looked genuinely disappointed. “Yesterday I would have told you that with relish.”<br /><br />“And today?”<br /><br />“I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time.”<br /><br />“I will have the answer. How devoted to her are you, merchant?”<br /><br />At last, the blind man betrayed a hint of fear. The patient hunter was the most successful. “I would guess we are both about to find out.”<br />
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[author's note: (which i cannot write without feeling pretentious and over-inflated)<br />
[Note from me: i feel the most satisfaction and joy from writing conversations. i like telling the story through conversations. i think i'm just naturally inclined toward being a playwright. Which is weird, cuz i don't go to plays at all. Though i like movies. <br />That's it. Nothing earth shattering. Back to your lives, citizens.]<br />
<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-13071060308853409692017-07-14T18:28:00.001-07:002017-07-14T18:28:21.088-07:0024: Blind guides“Where ya think you’re going?” The guard sounded big but not particularly bright.<br /><br />“Meal time for the prisoner,” Ch’Byartha said. <br /><br />“Where’s the runt they usually send?” Meaning Ch’Byartha’s child friend who got a job in the mess tent with him.<br /><br />“Sick day, apparently after children, the disabled are the most menial members of the community. I suppose if the blind guy were sick too, the elderly gentleman cleaning the officers’s toilets would be next in line.” <br /><br />“Check him.” Another guard patted Ch’Byartha down, presumably looking for weapons or tools the prisoner could use to escape, they needn’t have bothered. They poked around in the bowl of dry, crunchy bits he had personally chosen for her, knowing her fondness for soft foods. “One coming down,” he called down the mausoleum steps. Ch’Byartha felt the air cool as he descended. Reaching the bottom, he stopped to listen and get his bearings. A chain clinked and rattled.<br /><br />“It is…most pleasant for One to see One’s Guide again,” a hauntingly familiar voice echoed.<br /><br />“Eh miss? Must have me confused with someone else. I’m Ch’Byartha, at’cher service.”<br /><br />“One could smell the scent of the Guide on the child. One was surprised. Possibly happy.”<br /><br />“Well now, that’s a fine thing in unhappy circumstances, it tis. And I’m glad I can cheer ya up even by being mistaken for someone else. Reckon there’s not much more’n i could do for ya but to bring yer grub and letcha dream o’ some other fella. Where ya want it?” <br /><br />“Put it on the table,” said the guard behind him.<br /><br />“And where would that be?”<br /><br />“Two steps forward, Guide,” the guard said. Oh, Ch’Byartha thought, that isn't good. He should have let his little ragamuffin keep bringing the dish. Damn his pride! He just had to know for himself! He craved to hear her with his own ears and know she was suffering for what she had turned out to be. His revenge demanded she see his blindness. Let her see it! Let her know where her madness had led! What it had done to those who followed her. Those who… Cruel joke it would be if it only made him a person of interest to the Legion! ‘A fool and his folly,’ Ch’Voga scolded in his head. Did everyone’s conscience take on the voice of someone they knew? <br /><br />“Ha! A fine guide you would make, peepers!” Ch’Byartha let out the breath he had been holding. Thank Yah! The guard laughed and obviously thought it ridiculous that he could be anyone’s guide. <br /><br />“Yes,” he said, “the blind leading the blind. They shall both fall into a pit I believe. Well, there ya are lady, don’t choke.” He turned to go, retracing his steps. <br /><br />“One is … sorry.” He stopped. He didn’t want to stop. He needed to get out of here now. He knew he did. His rage needed to not hear this. But he stopped. “One does not have words. Pain. Compelling pain to rival the Need.” Her voice, was it breaking? Had he ever heard her string this many sentences together? “One failed. One failed all. One needed purpose. One sought to fill this new Need. One sought to recover .. one’s close kin. There is a word, one cannot think of it now. One made sacrifices one should not have made. One made all-who-followed-and-trusted-one sacrifice everything. If one could have saved one’s kins perhaps… perhaps it… may have been less hurtful. One suspects not. One would rather the Guide had eyes or the Lord Counselor had life. One is filled now, one’s crop is full of gall.”<br />
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<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-71706531671386182572017-07-10T17:18:00.001-07:002017-07-10T17:40:10.026-07:0023: Share<span style="color: #6aa84f;">The effective clutch spread out just below the rise of the dunes. Not silhouetted against the moonlit sky. Downwind so as not to give away its presence. Partially buried the clutch waited. </span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">A single animal came over the rim of the dune, bones and rags pushing against the relentless wind. It staggered forward on the downslope. It was not well. The clutch let it pass. It took some time to leave their sight again, the stars seemed to move faster in the sky. But it was determined, relentless. It crested the next shifting dune, only the wind keeping it from falling over. The dune passed over the buried clutch and it emerged again to discuss what to do.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Consensus formed, the effective clutch moved as one. It quickly overtook the staggering animal, this time surrounding it and then one revealed itself. Even so, the creature was so far gone it took some time before it registered one’s presence as surprise and cast FEAR at one. </span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">‘Stockmate,-where-find-thee-food?’ one danced as greeting to the long lost harvester. In this context, in the limited language options of harvesters, it was a more general question about history than food. </span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">HUNGRY! the long lost kin cast back. SHARE! It wanted to pierce one’s crop and feed first. The effective clutch did not have much to give having been sent as a foraging party for the collective swarm. The swarm had been initially very successful. First overrunning and draining the staggeringly rich meat animal hive in the walled trading post. So many animals. So few stings. The swarm had drained it of all resources in a few days and was on the move again. Not long after there had been more meat animals in troops and herds and even one boat the harvesters had been able to capture. It had been a fortuitous beginning to the swarm’s mission. But since the boat the desert had dried up. The occasional mindless animal, lizards, birds, rodents but no meat animals, no large prey. No herds. The effective clutch was wandering far afield from the chosen path of the swarm, which the effective clutch had first scouted, in search of ichor. </span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Instead the clutch had come across this lone harvester, counted as lost when the Factor had given it to the One-who-traded-corpses-for-words. The Factor had offered it the choice of its own clutchmate or the harvesterkin and the One-who-traded-corpses had taken the clutches’ stockmate and vanished into the desert. </span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">SHARE, one cast back in agreement and the lost kin was on one. Falling before one, tooth extended, the piercing, the pain. One rubbed the head of the kin to reassure it. A rare gesture to be sure but not unheard of. If the starving kin noticed it made no sign. It drank until there was nothing left and then reluctantly released. One knelt down before it.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">SHARE, it cast gently, share story. Not food. </span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">The story would take all the kin’s forms of communication, sign and dance and cast in turn to convey. It was too complex for any one. The harvester had been the prisoner of the One-who-traded-corpses. The One-who-traded-corpses had kept it weak and barely fed on camels, an animal the harvesters were very familiar with. It had cast in the manner of the meat animals much, it had signed and danced too but mostly cast. Always casting. Always inquiring. It had grown more and more desperate, more and more frustrated. It had made the Lost Harvester very nervous, then anxious, then terrified. It clearly wanted something but the lost harvester had no idea as to what. The kin had attempted to escape often, only to be thwarted or recaptured. It had even tried to drink the One-who-traded-corpses to kill it and be free or die in the attempt. And still its captor had neither released the kin nor finished it off but let it drink some and then subdued it. The One-who-traded-corpses had dragged it here, far from hive on a metal camel, to the outskirts of a meat-animal city. One last exchange of meat animal casting and sign and dance, one last desperate plea the lost harvester did not understand and then it released the lost harvester. Starving, no possibility of making it to the hive but free, the lost harvester had walked for days. Now though, it was safe. It danced a dance of joy to be found. To be part of the collective again and part of the stock again. It could show the swarm where the meat animal city was. There would be ichor enough for months! One’s mates in the effective clutch came near. The lost harvester doubled its dancing to see the other two. </span><br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;">And while its back was turned One struck it and killed it and retrieved its ichor.</span><br />
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scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-28385529949737294792017-07-07T05:11:00.002-07:002017-07-08T18:39:26.608-07:0022: The Union knows<style type="text/css">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9-2grcqhRg2MKpYzuXCfnIdWKkzIGm8kpMkGRchrpNHsz_LlOJvse6pODCndZzM_g2-SdAmsQDAx1_Vu8HPqDF8AURQhMX-wxhPzaEXewc2g1FUluPUaCzjTCzQAQcFtbDqbTJHgFvpm9/s1600/22+interview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="947" data-original-width="1600" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9-2grcqhRg2MKpYzuXCfnIdWKkzIGm8kpMkGRchrpNHsz_LlOJvse6pODCndZzM_g2-SdAmsQDAx1_Vu8HPqDF8AURQhMX-wxhPzaEXewc2g1FUluPUaCzjTCzQAQcFtbDqbTJHgFvpm9/s320/22+interview.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">In the middle of the Legion camp, stood a cut stone mausoleum.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Inside, on shelves built into the walls were piles of sand and of rags and bones and flesh becoming sand.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the center, upon a folding metal chair sat a tiny woman, completely eclipsed in Major Nakba’s shadow.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Major Nakba was asking the little woman, “You understand the predicament you find yourself in, don’t you?”</span></span></div>
<br />
“One understands one is a prisoner.”<br />
<br />
“One understands correctly,” he said, “But do you understand that this is as civilized as the interview process will ever be?” She said nothing in response so he continued, “From here we move to more primitive forms of coercion. Then we start doing permanent damage. I have men under my command who enjoy such work.”<br />
<br />
“One is familiar with cruelty. One had hoped Legionnaires more honorable.”<br />
<br />
“With those who live peaceably under its wings, it is very honorable. With those however who do it and its people harm, you will find it is most unforgiving.”<br />
<br />
“One wishes no harm upon the Legion.” <br />
<br />
“Yet you break its laws? You enter a controlled sector without authorization. You engage in unsanctioned commerce and slave trading. You make contact with enemies of the state. You expose the entire coastal region to dangerous pathogens. You have done nothing but harm since you left the Westvale, Ch’Loi. Yes, the Union knows who you are The Union knows what you’ve done. And now you are refusing to cooperate with its agents. What more are you hiding?”<br />
<br />
“One wishes no harm upon the Legion.”<br />
<br />
“Please forgive my skepticism.”<br />
<br />
“One does.”<br />
<br />
“Do not mock me, my patience is the only thing between you and your fragile little body being thrown to the wolves.”<br />
<br />
“One has broken laws. One is aware of this and freely admits it. There are penalties, protocols, forms, this is straight forward. Yet one is not being prosecuted by a court. One is being questioned by soldiers. Threatened with violence. One perceives one’s motives are in question. One can only reassure one’s captors that one means no damage to the Legion.”<br />
<br />
“You can tell me what you were really doing out here all this time and let me decide if you are a threat to the Union or not.”<br />
<br />
She had never really looked up. She kept her focus on the stones of the floor the entire time. It made it difficult to know whether she was thinking or resisting. He gave her time to find out. <br />
<br />
At last she said, “One came to retrieve something it had lost.”<br />
<br />
Cryptic but a start. Major Nakba decided to play along. “And did it?”<br />
<br />
“No. One failed. One lost much more instead.”scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-14082298616321424572017-06-07T17:56:00.000-07:002017-07-24T03:59:21.684-07:0021 Outta SeaThe child ran through bright desert sunlight and dusty streets, dodging traders, wagons, animals of the only busy quarter left in Aedlin. Past somnolent and distracted guards she scuttled into Merchant Street, a walled community of offices and homes of Aedlin’s privileged barons and the amusements still left to them. The waif skirted tree lines of imported ornamental plants with leaves browning and curling at the tips. She ducked into an alley in the shadow of the Palace itself, silent as the Mausoleums being buried in the dunes to the east outside the city wall. Giving a glance up and down the empty alley, she tossed a rock at some shutters in the wall above. She waited. Checked the alley again and threw a second rock. The shutters opened then and a rope of knotted cloths trailed down to her. Using it she scaled the wall and entered the window.<br />
<br />
It was utterly dark. “Arya inneer?”<br />
<br />
“Where else would I be?” <br />
“Aincha gotta light?”<br />
<br />
“It simply does not occur to me to light one. Yah must have took my sense when He took my sight.”<br />
<br />
“Oh, yeah, guessyadon need one, dooya?”<br />
<br />
“Not as much as I used to,” Ch’Byartha said as he lit the lamp for the child. “I find it saves me a small fortune in oil however. So there’s that.” He smiled in her general direction and then went back to scrubbing pots with sand and steel wool. She watched him for a bit as he finished one, set it perfectly onto a teetering tower of pots on his left and took a dirty silver plate from his right and began scrubbing. She went over to the stack on his left and examined one. It was spotless. <br />
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“Ifyer blind, owyoo tell winner clean?”<br />
<br />
“Easy,” he said and dragged his tongue up the length of the pot he was scrubbing. Tasted it theatrically, “Nope, still dirty.” He scrubbed vigorously for a second time, licked it again. “Ah, perfect!” He set that plate on his clean side and took another plate. <br />
<br />
“Mind me nevva eat here,” she giggled. He smiled again. <br />
<br />
“Are you hungry?”<br />
<br />
“Always.”<br />
<br />
He produced a fruit from his pocket. “The choicest morsel of my breakfast today. Not too many mushy spots on this one. Didn’t even lick it.” He tossed it right to her. <br />
She ate the whole thing, core, seeds and all.<br />
<br />
“Fraid that’s all there is till tomorrow. We’ll have to feast on the only food left to the poor, honest companionship. So liven an old beggar’s dark hours of dreary labor with tales of the sights and scenes of the world in the Sun. Let us dine on our gossip. What did you see today in your travels, young empress of the orphans of Aedlin?”<br />
<br />
“Enh, nah much. Nuffin shiny. Sum mo soljah.”<br />
<br />
“We’ve been getting a lot of Legion guests lately, haven’t we.”<br />
<br />
“De camp is swole. Guard gettin antsy. Dey tinkin dere moren ‘em dan Guard.”<br />
<br />
“Ever talk to any of the Legionnaires?”<br />
<br />
“Naw, but I hears’em. Dey don care bout Aedlin. Dey don care bout Guard. Dey all lookin’ East. Like dey speck sommin commin outta Sea.”<br />
<br />
“A Beast perhaps, with seven heads and ten horns.”<br />
<br />
“Whereyoo get dat idea?”<br />
<br />
“An old friend talked about it once.”<br />
<br />
“Whattit mean?”<br />
<br />
“It means that some day soon, I think, we’d best take a schooner heading West.”<br />
<br />
“Yoo take me wifoo?”<br />
<br />
“My conscience would nary let me do otherwise.”<br />
<br />
“Wuzza conshuns?” <br />
“Something I only recently developed. Nuisance thing, you don’t want one, trust me. What else did you see today?”<br />
<br />
“Enh, nuffin. Coupla boats. Sum lady wiffa buncha camels.” Ch’Byartha dropped a dish. “She hadda soljah mashine, like a donkey, only made a metal. She walk outta sea. No ship. No boat. Just walk, her anna camel. Weird huh?”<br />
<br />
“Very. Where is she now?”<br />
<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-84551264578696383252017-03-27T17:23:00.002-07:002017-03-27T17:23:53.957-07:00Poetic Interlude from my ancient past<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7717452165868985807.post-90760062818321589942017-02-05T15:37:00.000-08:002017-02-05T15:37:36.361-08:0020 Soon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLKqwDeL_4d94tDe2XpfCDwushR7zw_PLt1tNPuF8KRInOgmGoNmWTUcdKKGhnsMJEUWEgQEWYCqS5zIiKvgOjtZ5Wj7f2to7950dctRdZ2P0YYVmPXQBgGbnlx-NUXAYKJ4B7QxEZ3dk_/s1600/IMG_2456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLKqwDeL_4d94tDe2XpfCDwushR7zw_PLt1tNPuF8KRInOgmGoNmWTUcdKKGhnsMJEUWEgQEWYCqS5zIiKvgOjtZ5Wj7f2to7950dctRdZ2P0YYVmPXQBgGbnlx-NUXAYKJ4B7QxEZ3dk_/s320/IMG_2456.jpg" width="320" /></a>The feeding time came. The Harvesters came in, their crops bulging, or not, each according to the success of it and its kin’s foraging. Each went directly to its own Factor, and each Factor moved nary a tentacle to receive them until they were nearly touching. And, as is the way of Factors, moved only then as if uninterested but granting the trembling Harvester a favor. But make no mistake, each Factor there sized up the crops of one’s rivals. Which was successful? Which was not? Were any floundering? Could power moves be made? Which Factor could be a useful ally? Which a threat? Which could be overpowered and its stock subsumed? The Factor-with-the-Plan had long ago trained its stock on penalty of death to always, ALWAYS send a full Harvester to it in the Factorium even if it meant the rest need starve. This deliberate masquerade of strength or weakness was necessary and yet in the end, useless. All Factors did it. So the relative strength of a Factor’s Stock was still known. A Factor which was fed from a hungry Harvester was a Factor with nothing left to hide behind; it was a Factor marked.<br /><br />These moons no Harvester came in flush. Prey animals rarely ventured this far into the Sea anymore. Even the stinging meat animals were rarely seen since the last hive of them was overpowered in the most recent raid. The Stock had to range far and wide and use far too much of it’s own crop to return. Much of the casting and dancing around the Factorium of late dealt with the need for a new raid and where it should be focused. The mood was ripe. The Collective Factors of Factors would decide eventually. But an ambitious Factor, a daring Factor, a Factor with a Plan could find co-conspirators in the tense tangle of tentacles. <br /><br />It was therefore with barely restrained eagerness the Factor-with-the-Plan perceived the particular Harvester which brought its evening feeding. One which it had not perceived in much time. A weary and travelworn Harvester. Still, it could not appear eager. So it left the miserable creature to tremble a while. Then it slithered out a thick grasping limb and drew it close. A feeding tentacle pierced its crop and slowly it began to drink. The Factor was nearly trembling itself. It took particular care not to damage the Harvester overly much. It restrained itself. It drank with care, holding the vessel as something precious. Not for the life sustaining ichor within its very body but the knowledge it now held in something no tentacle could reach. How to extract this without being noticed by the other Factors?<br /><br />“Where?” it cast.<br />“Far-far.” it cast back.<br />“Success?” The Harvester raised one arm and let it fall as if involuntarily. There were many bodily responses to a Factor’s feeding, few of them premeditated.<br />“Success?” One asked again. One must be sure. Slowly, the same arm raised and was allowed to just drop as if the Harvester swooned. One nearly broke the Harvester in one’s joy but it cast fear to One and One relaxed it’s grip and ended the feeding, setting it back on its own feet. “Prepare kin,” it cast. Tell the others to get ready.<br />“When?” the Far-far Foraging Scout Harvester asked. When would the Plan be implemented? How much time did one have to prepare? The Factor scanned the Factorium. One had spent the interminable time of waiting observing One’s fellow Factors. One had formed a list of potentials. One now narrowed it further. Potentials could be neither too strong nor too weak. Potentials must be desperate and ambitious enough to undertake a risky venture but not so weak as to unable to be helpful. But again, for One’s purposes, Potentials must not be strong enough to be challengers. The Plan required control. One would need be careful in all choices. Even in giving One’s stock information too specific. <br />“Soon,” it cast. “Go.” “Prepare.”scruffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04127548900155916268noreply@blogger.com0