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Balls – Part 3 of 8

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< Return to Balls Part 2

Must we pick up with our spoony bard? We must. More balls!

Writer’s Confession – often when I didn’t know how to start a section I’ll just begin with describing the setting and see where things go from there. This can lead the narrative into bizarre directions but I just try and roll with it.

—————Break —————

 The city of Etreria was a city of crossroads. It sat near the border, fed by the famous Eleven Worldly Trails and the magnificent Spine of the World. These twelve trade routes insured an endless supply of travellers and merchants that caused the city to swell with gold and supplies. To say that Etreria was a wealthy city was to say the Infinite Sea merely a puddle.
In its earlier days, the city was little more than a modest hill fort, protecting a small lay-over camp for the traders on the Spice Road. It served little strategic value, it held little desirability for farming and was so far from any serviceable rivers to hardly be considered worthy of any further development.
 And yet, miraculously, the damn place kept growing. The traders from the far east began to set up small trading posts beneath the bored eyes of the presiding knight captain and his men. This provided greater incentive for the distant men to carry more and more goods west, garnering the attention of the thrones to the north and south. However, armed conflict over the miserable spit of rock was far more trouble than the kings wanted, so they commissioned the creation of roads connecting their lands to that outpost.
 With the sudden interest of foreign regents, the ruling family decided that there must be some value in the oft ignored post where military commanders went to be forgotten. Thus, better infrastructure was funded and suddenly three interests were competing to create the most enticing avenue to funnel the confused foreigners.
 The kings entered a fierce trade conflict, each maneuvering to obtain more goods from their foreign visitors than their rivals. What they bought didn’t matter; vases, silks, spices, pets, herbs, goats, grains, berries, alcohol, beads, strange rocks and hats were sold for more than any of the traders would value their worth. With a sudden demand for everything exotic, more and more traders were sent and the roads connecting to Etreria from all angles were paid so much attention that they became renown throughout the kingdoms.
This unexpected boon in trade grabbed the attention of other kingdoms both near and far and suddenly a whole host of new players were throwing their hands in over the fort. But no one dared send a military force to claim the city through force for each ruler feared provoking a collation from the others to permanently oust them from the valuable markets.
And so, the rocky, infertile lands surrounding Etreria were covered in the snaking paths stretching to the far corners of the known lands. Each route vied to be the most enticing to the ever growing number of merchants, seeking to cover their routes with stretches of guard posts, comfortable inns, tax credits and even pleasing banners.
 Unfortunately, given so much choice, the foreign merchants became paralyzed by the decision of who to trade with. Instead, they squatted right down at the foot of the old Etreria fort, building their own storehouses and shop fronts to sell to each investor right at the end of the Spine. It wasn’t long before merchants outnumbered the soldiers and competition sprouted amongst the traders for who could sell the most to their eager customers. They did everything to undermine the fellow sellers: marriages were arranged, courts were created to tie opponents in a mountain of bewildering bureaucracy, assassins were hired to quietly eliminate the more troublesome and adept individuals and some even went so far as to cut their prices.
 With the merchants so entrenched, it wasn’t long before the kingdoms followed suit. And then, Etreria became a jumbled city of peoples, customs, litigation and general market driven mischief. This hotbed of cultures and ambition could not have been a more perfect place for the College of Bards to settle. And so the minstrels and wastrels arrived, adding ever more colour and confabulation to the City of Roads.
 It was a city Derrek had only been to once before but one he had vowed to return. He hadn’t planned on it being as soon as it was, however, but now that he was here he couldn’t help but feel that it was the ever gentle prodding of fate. His journey with his companions had brought him far and wide but to bring their weary feet to Etreria, right near the Challenge, seemed far too fortuitous for it to be anything else.
It was his time to be named Seeker, he knew it. All his experiences, all his adventures, were in preparation for this moment and this time. He just had to pen them down and find the right recourse to express them.
And so he sat beneath the candlelight facing a dozen empty parchments and a full bottle of untouched ink.
His head rested in his palm and mead rested in his spare hand. He stared unblinking at the blank faces of the paper – his mind a complete desert of ideas.
He didn’t know what to write.
He took another swig from his emptying cup, glaring furiously at the papers as if he could will his thoughts upon their surface.
 It was a maddening state to be faced with the greatest opportunity but to have nothing to put towards it. He had been here once more, this exact city and this exact place.
And it hadn’t ended well then.
 “Hopeless.”
He raised a wavering hand over the table, swiping the parchments dramatically from the desk to flutter freely in the air. He watched the last sheaf drift on lazy currents to the floorboard before stooping over and picking them all up again.
 That was the fourth time he’d attempted that method but still no ideas sprouted. Even playing the part of a troubled playwright wasn’t producing results. Perhaps he needed more conviction in his delivery.
“A pox of a thousand and one fleas to infest your armpits!” he screamed. He threw one sheet at a time from his writing table. He then stared at them expectantly upon the floor.
Still nothing.
This was going to be harder than he planned.
A welcomed knock came upon his door and he jumped to his feet, hurrying over for the expected
refreshments.
To his disappointment, it was not the serving wench from downstairs upon his step. Instead, it was the flamboyantly dressed Mikael.
“Friend! What a pleasant surprise it is to see you again!”
 Mikael burst through the door in a flutter of fantastic cloth and waving hands.
“How long has it been? Three, maybe four years? What have you been doing with yourself? You look absolutely fabulous, I must say. Is that a new jerkin? It looks absolutely smashing on you, really brings out your figure. And what a fabulous colour as well! Did you pick it up from here? I don’t recognize the design.”
 The man plopped down upon Derrek’s chair, lifting to inspect his cup carefully. He tipped the drink to his nose, his small nostrils tentatively testing the scent of the beverage. Immediately, a look of disgust painted his face as he sprung to his feet.
 “You know, we should really catch up. Last I heard you were bounding off to study at some school or some such. There must be so much to cover!”
He walked over to the window, pulling against the warped wood until enough space had been cleared for him to pitch the mead out.
 “I know this terrific tavern… though it’s not really much of a tavern. It’s more like a feast hall. Though there’s less feast in the ‘traditional sense,’” he accentuated those words with his two fingers, “but it is nevertheless a very entertaining place. What say you, old friend, shall we paint this town for old times sake?”
 Enough time lapsed between the young man’s words for Derrek to blink. Clearly an indication for him to take a turn to speak.
“What are you doing here?”
 It was perhaps a more forward route than Derrek had planned to ask. However, the words had been sprung to life from the tip of his tongue before any reigns could be harnessed about them. Freed now there wasn’t anything that could be done save wait the response.
 “Derrek! Confidante! Word on the street was that you were back in Etreria and I thought to myself, ‘Mikael, it has been ages since you’ve spoken with your good friend. Proper decorum would necessitate that I make an appearance upon his stoop, would it not?’”
 “I’m sorry,” Derrek said, walking over to his desk and straightening his papers with an air of trained professionalism, “but I am a little busy. Not much time to party and all that.”
“Nonsense,” Mikael said, waving his hand. He strolled over, placing the cup upon the writing desk with finality before clasping Derrek’s arm. “If there is one thing I know, there is always time to party. You’ll have plenty of time to work on your manuscript or ballad or whatever it is you do.”
 There was no point in arguing. It was all Derek could do to grab his jacket before being ushered out his cramped room and down the rickety stairs of the inn.
“How did you know I was back?” Derrek asked.
 “Oh, words have feet and such,” Mikael smiled. “When they finally reached me I knew I just had to drop what I was doing and come see you right away. And, might I add, you are looking mighty handsome after this time. Been eating well?”
 “The stomach doesn’t cramp anymore,” Derrek said. “I spoke to an apothecary and they suggested it was too much meat in my diet. So it’s been nothing but vegetables and fruits.”
 “Oh, I hear you,” Mikael laughed. “I could not agree more! Not one bit. Course, it goes without saying that our four-legged brethren are our most trusted companions and we do them a bad turn by throwing them on our dinner plate.”
Derrek shrugged.
“They just make my stomach upset.”
Mikael led him into the busy street still bustling with the shuffling bodies of merchants and visitors attempting to push their way from the stalls and into the numerous taverns and theatres that dotted the street sides.
Great paper lanterns were strung overhead, their soft red light illuminating the roads beneath. Long banners were hung down store fronts with elaborate designs to both convey the owner as well as advertise the weaver’s great artistic flair.
A woman of deep ebony skin emerged from her crate, stopping Derrek and Mikael as she held up her slender arms. Bells were fastened to leather straps that ran down the length of her arms and body until wrapping tightly about her ankles. She clicked her fingers, the chime of small cymbals ringing cleanly in the air.
The performer looked seductively at both the men before beginning to writhe and twist her body in tantalizing form. Each bell bedecking her smooth skin gave off the sweetest of chimes as her almost silken gown billowed elegantly about her body.
Immediately, both men reached for their coin purses.
Derrek felt the retreat of dastardly fingertips retreat into the pressing crowds as Mikael pushed his way forcefully past.
“My apologies, milady, but we’re not interest!”
Once cleared, he turned to inspect Derrek’s belt and smiled.
“I see you still haven’t lost your reflexes.”
“Tired distractions lacking originality. This city is better than that.”
“I knew it would come back to you!” Mikael laughed, pulling him ever further through the streets.
The sights and smells washed over them while they forged their way along twisting boulevards. Due to its nature, Etreria loved roads and lay them where they could causing the most peculiar shaped alleyways and streets. Paths would hook in on themselves with no reason and budding buildings would create zigzagging passages beneath their overhanging balconies. It was the sort of city one could easily get lost in; swallowed by the turning paths, shuffling mass and drowning colours.
At last Mikael and Derrek emerged before a massive hall with a grand façade. It was almost entirely wood, with grand carvings covering the entire front. Intricate interwoven ribbons were etched about great sculptures of primitive men with bulging muscles wrestling various flora and fauna in their wild nakedness. The doors to the structure had been thrown wide open, the heat and laughter from inside spilling out in reckless revelry.
“Welcome to the Hall of Bears!” Mikael announced.
“Official name?”
“Affectionate.”
Derrek was dragged up its steps and pushed inside.
It was clear the architect was shooting for some northern motive. Once passed the entryway, an enormous fire pit ran straight down the middle of the massive front room. Metal spits held a large collection of foods slowly turning over the flickering flames. Bordering either side of the pit was a pair of large tables with a thin bar splitting their lengths. Beside this area, the tables lined the walls leaving a large space separating the middle seating and the rest. Where a head table would have been was an open stage with large red curtains running along its back.
“Boys!” Mikael called as he entered. “I’m back!”
A raucous cheer rose from the gathered men as goblets and glasses were raised. The heady scent of fine wine and spirits dominated what otherwise should have been a space filled with the mouth watering scent of roasting meat.
However, there was no scent of stuck boar to fill the air below the vaulted timber roof. Only vegetables, roots and fruits were rotating upon the spits. Derrek couldn’t help but also notice a distinct lack of serving wenches.
“Not my typical scene,” Derrek said.
“Come now, my troupe has prepared a special show just for you.”
“An unexpected honour.”
“A celebration for the reigniting of old friendships. Come, we have a seat prepared.”
Derrek was brought to the front of the middle spit. A large man with a penchant for the furs of a wild barbarian moved aside while patting the space invitingly. Derrek slowly buttoned upon the top of his shirt as he smiled and sat down.
“What can I get you?” a bare-chested youth asked walking up to him.
“He’ll have an Ascandian Spirit,” Mikael said, patting Derrek’s shoulders. The young man nodded before departing.
Derrek cleared his throat, running a hand through his luscious blonde hair. The crowd appeared a mixture of rugged aged workers and younger, preened youths. It was the sort of place that Derrek, with his almost feminine features and shape, easily stood out amongst the crowd.
Derrek smiled politely as his server returned with his drink. Once the servers back was turned, he carefully tested the contents to make sure they were genuine.
“Fantastic!” Mikael smiled. “Now give me some time to get ready and we’ll get the show started.”
The man hurried towards the stage, scampering up its side steps and disappearing behind the curtain. Derrek looked around, noticing with some trepidation that all eyes were on him. There were almost twenty patrons, the only two women occupying a far corner beneath the shadows of a large, detailed pillar of a man and buck butting heads.
A soft rumble caused Derrek to turn towards the exit as he watched two of the working youths pull the massive doors closed.
“Shouldn’t we keep those open. Perhaps for fresh air?”
The bear of a man sitting beside Derrek merely folded his arms.
“Don’t want no one interrupting the show.”
A soft drumming echoed from behind the curtains hushing the remainder of idle conversation. The drumming grew louder, joined quickly by the rhythmic stamping of feet. As if rehearsed, many of the patrons began to thump their hands against the tabletops in chorus.
Derrek turned quickly to his wine.
Suddenly, a man burst from the curtains. It took Derrek a second to recognize Mikael Lors beneath the great ironed helm with enormous deer antlers protruding from its studded sides. He had a single red cloth wrapped about his near bare body which he clutched to his chest with his left hand. Derrek hadn’t seen Mikael for a long time and during their absence the boy had obviously misplaced quite a bit of weight. There were still the faint reminders of his rounder days, noticeably in the soft padding of his neck. His skin also seemed slicked, as if he had just been dipped in oil.
Mikael strode boldly to the front of the stage, addressing the gathered crowd with a great, ringing voice.
“Behold my fellow travellers! We stand upon the brink of a great journey, nay, a transformation! For before you stands the great Baldr of the Northern Wilds, a legendary god-man who stood before the might of oppression and tyranny. Behold! For you are about to witness the thrilling tale of liberation and salvation! It is a tale of forbidden love and treacherous betrayal! A tale of personal expression!”
Mikael raised his hands to the hair, the cloth falling from his shoulders to catch about his waist. Beneath the cloth ran a deep red line, clearly paint but fashioned in such a way to appear as a terrific wound that ran all the way down to his navel.
Derrek, of course, had heard the tale of Baldr and the supposed fate that had ended with the legendary man cleaved in two. It seemed a most fitting play given their locale but there was something in Mikael’s delivery that made him sit on edge. Derrek couldn’t pinpoint it, but some mischievous gleam in the young man’s blue eyes tickled the primitive sense of self preservation.
A loud gong rang behind Mikael and the curtains were immediately whisked open, revealing the rest of the cast. Derrek was surprised to note two girls amongst the troupe since he had been convinced he knew the direction this production was heading.
All the men wore fur or tattered breeches with their bare-chests gleaming as if slicked with sweat. The women wore longer costumes of tanned leather. Derrek supposed they were going to portray the wild wolf packs but they looked more armoured mercenary than furry animal.
Another ring of the gong sent the three males rushing to Mikael’s side as they all crouched behind him, reaching around and pressing their fingers against the lead’s wound. A final ring and, in unison, they all pulled their hands back, streaking the red paint as if the blood were exploding from his chest.
One of the women produced a flute, beginning a rapid melody to represent the frantic rise of tension as Mikael squirmed beneath the clawing hands figuratively ripping him apart. The drumming began and many of the patrons joined in, building the feverish tempo.
“Come with me, fellow travellers!” Mikael cried. “Come with me to the end!”
He burst from the grasping arms, leaping from the stage to land upon the middle table. Derrek now realized why space had been cleared and quickly snatched his drink back as Mikael stumbled past, his loincloth now mostly dragging behind him as the cloth fell through the revealed metal rings bound about his hips.
As he descended down the centre of the room, courageous patrons reached up to grasp at the cloth still dangling from his hips, tearing at the fabric with their fingers. The drumming and fluting quickened in beat as the other men of the troupe crawled along the stage like beasts upon their stomachs. They followed the clearly symbolic trail of entrails in their master’s wake.
It was all quite post modern but a little heavy handed.
“Please, how long do you plan to drag this out?”
The voice cut through the revelry like a loosed arrow, killing the musical accompaniment with one, shocked note. The other actors ceased their writhing and Mikael slowed his flight.
The patrons turned towards the shadowed table and the interrupting question. Once again, some prickling warning ran down Derrek’s spine as his ears echoed the words from a familiar voice.
“We… we were at least going to finish the act,” Mikael whispered.
“I’m not paying you for this mindless drivel. Do it now!”
Without further warning, the women drew wicked daggers, leaping from the stage towards Derrek. More surprising, the men stood, producing weapons themselves somehow concealed beneath their meagre clothing.
And it was clear they were coming after Derrek.
He sprung to his feet, hurrying and looking about him trying to size the situation up. However, all the large, burly men in the audience seemed to shrink away from the actors flying off the stage and taking refuge at the furthest edges of the room. Some patrons fled to the front doors, banging uselessly against the barred massive wood.
Reflexively, Derrek reached behind him for his lute but then realized immediately that he had been pulled from his room so quickly he’d forgotten to bring it with him.
The first woman was upon him, striking out with her blades. Derrek didn’t even bother standing for a fair fight. He immediately doused her with the remainder of his drink, before throwing the cup towards the other and scampering for cover.
He cast about for some escape, noting the holes near the roof to vent out the rising smoke from the fire pit. Derrek looked at the pillar he knelt behind, noticing that the intricate carving had plenty of foot and hand holds.
He began his ascent.
There were shouts below him, and he noticed the troupe not even pause as they came tumbling forward. There was no hesitation as they leaped upon the carved bear and muscular man, scampering over them as if it were no more than shimming up a rope. In seconds they were just below him, one reaching up and pulling rudely on Derrek’s boot.
Derrek lost his balance. He landed upon a table and rolled off, laying upon the floor in pain. He turned his head and watched with fascination as Mikael detached the two hoops at his side, holding the items before him with their curious flame styled blades.
They looked remarkably like wind-and-fire wheels.
“Sorry old friend,” Mikael said, bending over in little more than the remaining thin strap of red cloth covering  his decency. He pushed one of the blades to Derrek’s throat, the metal uncomfortably warm.
Derrek then heard a sharp clapping.
“Now, that is a performance I can enjoy. A bewildered, cornered animal with just the right touch of betrayal.”
Walking from the shadowed pillar was a face that he could now identify. Her wavy brown hair tied severely back in a tight knot that appeared to pinch her features and add even more severity to her face. Her freckled features were lined and worn by endless scheming and double-dealing.
“Mairen. I didn’t know you enjoyed this kind of show. If you really wanted a date, you could have just asked. You know, like a normal woman.”
“Save the witty banter, I can barely stand it from Keirn,” Mairen said.
“So Mikael is part of your network now too.”
“It shouldn’t be surprising anymore what one can buy with money. Now, you know what I’ve come for, bard.”
“I’m not done my play.”
Mairen leaned down, the heavy smell of her perfume filled with the scent of desperation and ruined lives.
“I’ve come for your balls,” she said.
“Which ones?”
Mairen drew a long, crooked dagger.

“Well, I believe that is really up to you now, isn’t it?”

Continue to Balls Part 4 >

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Balls – Part 2 of 8

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< Return to Balls Part 1

When last we met our fearless heroes they were balanced on an impractically placed ship. They were also letting some mysterious pirate captain get the better of them. However, one name seemed curiously absent from this encounter.

Our eponymous bard appears to have sat this little adventure out. I wonder what he could be getting himself involved in…

—————Break —————

“I just don’t know where I see this going.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be here. They’re only two days late.”
“I don’t mean that,” Aliessa sighed. “Have you not been listening to me at all?”
“Weren’t you saying how annoyed you were that the others weren’t here and how you couldn’t wait anymore?” Derrek asked.
He looked past the irritated woman, eyeing the man climbing upon the stage with suspicion. Aliesse leaned back into his vision, expectation written all over her face.
Derrek regarded her politely.
“Yes?”
“Do you even remember what day this is?”
“The Seventh of Wintermarch according to the Aretessian Calendar, also known as Trolfynnan Day in honour of the Corindian god of flutes, whistles and general drunken revelry. It is the day that many bard colleges decide to hold a festival in his honour and to test the mettle of all registered minstrels through challenges of skill, knowledge and trivial uselessness.”
“… and our anniversary?”
“Yeah… that too.”
Aliessa sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her exaggerated attempt at agitation caused her nestled newt to scamper from his perch upon her wrist and seek refuge beneath the slip of her shoulder strap.
The young woman of elongated delicateness wore a shimmering dress of shifting emerald and turquoise scales that appeared almost as if it were fashioned from the skin of some exotic beast. Her hair had been gathered amongst several colourful wooden pegs in which her pet snake had wound herself amongst like a long streak of cardinal highlight in her chestnut hair festooned with soft pink petals.
She had even worn delicate shoes that appeared as if they had been fashioned from the very element of ice and exposed carefully painted toes that seemed to refract into a rainbow of colour within her footwear. Not that Derrek could see this as her cat had curled upon her feet to nap as the evening progressed.
All in all, the girl was woefully overdressed for the establishment she currently occupied. Upon her arrival, all the patrons had turned to ogle in their muddied and tattered leathers and cottons. It was perhaps the long, curious staff that kept them mostly at bay. The curving fingers of the top seeming to trap an ever shifting eye within that maintained a wary, unblinking stare at anyone that showed too much interest.
The woman sighed, reaching for her drink. From beneath the table sprung a small ferret that bounced across and pushed her cup to her outstretched fingers.
But Derrek didn’t care. It was the man that was standing upon the stage, shouting at one of the audience before him and gesticulating wildly towards that chair that drew his attention.
“You know,” Aliessa said, setting down her cup, “when your friends had set off on their quest, I thought this would have given us the perfect opportunity to spend some time alone. It seems I’ve hardly seen you since you’ve been tromping off across the countryside for what seems like years now.”
“Mhmm.”
“And when you said that this weekend was going to be special I thought you had taken the time to arrange something pleasant for the occasion.”
“Yeah.”
“And instead you dragged me to the Copper Laurel and haven’t even said a word to me since entering the door.”
“Sure.”
“By the blistering winds of Arcadia! WILL YOU PAY ATTENTION!”
Aliessa slammed her hand upon the table, causing the cups to jump and spill their contents across the stained top. A small dish of nuts spun, tipping the food upon the dirty floor before immediately being beset by the ferret.
All the present eyes turned to the couple, save one pair. Derrek still looked warily upon the man at the stage, wrestling the stool from the distracted patron.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” the man called, his voice high and screeching like someone scrapping their fingernails over Derrek’s eardrums, “but I’m trying to put a show on here!”
“I’m sorry,” Derrek said, finally blinking. “Was there something you said?”
Aliessa stood, a small gerbil tumbling from the folds of her dress.
“I’m going to use the chute.”
She stomped away, pursued quickly by her mini-menagerie.
Derrek merely motioned for more mead and kept a cold stare towards the fat man now fixing himself upon the stool.
“Right. Let’s get this start. So an ugly orc walks into a bar, right? And he’s got this parrot on his shoulder. Well, the bartender takes one look at that parrot and his eyes get real big. Then he’s all like ‘that’s pretty neat, where did you get it?’
“’In a cave!’”
The man gave a terrific squawk and fluttered his arms in mimicry of the colourful animal. The great rolls of his arms, squeezed out of the pressed but stained white shirt, flopped wildly about as he gestured. But only dead silence greeted his performance. Derrek merely shook his head.
“Guess I’ll have to explain it later,” the man called. He shrugged, picking up his lute and plucking at the strings a couple of times. Derrek could already tell the instrument was out of tune, but the man made no effort to fix it. Instead, he broke immediately into the Ballad of Baronug Crossing, his straining voice belting out the lyrics raucously over his hamstrung cords.
It was a painful experience, made even more intense by the slowly built clapping from the crowd. By the final stanza, they were cheering and singing along with the tune, mindless of the creatively void performance. At last, the song came to an end to mediocre applause and a few celebratory coins before the bard stood, kicking the stool to the ground and boldly striding down the steps.
He took enough time to smile and chat with a few passing patrons before making a beeline towards Derrek.
“Ah, friend, long time no see! How long has it been since the mighty Derrek Gungrik graced this fair city? I hardly recognized you earlier.”
“Alec Carver, still training in the practice of the lute I see?”
“Haha! I am a graduated master!” the fat man laughed, slapping Derrek upon the back. “I do hope that my performance hasn’t dissuaded you from joining in with the festivities.”
“I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to overshadow you once again. I mean, there’s only so long people can put up with your music once they actually hear talent.”
“Aha! Indeed! I’m so glad to hear that your lengthy exile hasn’t softened that wit of yours. I suppose you couldn’t enter the competition seeing that you are not a registered minstrel. Pity.”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to reveal you for the fraud that you are.”
“Ha, you wish, dunderic. But I see your date has decided to come back for some reason.”
Aliessa returned slowly to the table, eyeing Alec carefully.
“My lady! Still treating with second rate, two bit musicians after all these years.”
“Good to see you too Carver,” Aliessa smiled.
“I suppose that university of yours never found a cure for your unfortunate condition then?”
Aliessa merely crossed her arms.
“There is nothing wrong with me.”
“The lady doth still protest,” Alec smiled. “A pity too, you would be quite beautiful if you ever got that seen to.”
“Careful Carver. Don’t forget, should I desire, I could always turn you into the toad that you are.”
“But you couldn’t transform yourself into a maiden? Hoho, you pair are a real laugh. Good luck with the challenge, Drek, it’ll take more than miss fancy fingers to get you past the preliminaries.”
Alec turned, giving a carefree wave as he walked out. Aliessa turned to Derrek, her cross expression never changing.
“The Challenge? You had no intention of celebrating our anniversary, did you?”
“You know how much this means,” Derrek said. “The winner of the Challenge receives the title of Seeker of the Cord!”
“I don’t care about your silly titles.”
“Title! Seeker is more than just a title. If I received it, they would be clamouring for my plays from her to the Boiling Sea! Derrek Gungrik would be a household name. People would start appreciating my unique melodies.”
“Fine!” Aliessa cried, reaching for her bag. “You do what you think is most important and seek this stupid title.”
“Where are you going?”
Aliessa shook her head as she stomped away, her cat and ferret bouncing after her.
“Aren’t you going to wait for the others to return!” Derrek called.
“They can find me at the Academy!” Aliessa shouted, slamming the door as she left. Derrek leaned back in his chair, looking at the half finished mead.

“If I knew she didn’t want to wait, I could have spent my time registering,” he grumbled. He turned to watch the next performer to take the stage. At the very least he could continue to scope the competition until his drinks were done.

Continue to Balls Part 3 >

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Yakushima Adventures (Christmas Boo Hoos)

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It occurs to me that posting one day of my travel journal might be a little cruel since I tend to get in adventures that last more than one day. It also occurred to me that posting these might be a bad idea since I’ve never even spell checked them.

Let alone looked them over for anything embarrassing.

But despite these issues, I’ve decided to throw up day two of my adventures at Yakushima.

Day 2 – The Fun Never Stops
I woke up early (7:30) and was out of the hostel by 8:00. I decided to take a casual stroll down to the pier since I wouldn’t have any real time to spend in Kagoshima. Along the main road, the city had erected innumerous statues and plaques commemorating the important historical events that happened in the city. Most of it centered around the Meiji Restoration. For those of you not fluent in Japanese history, this was about the 1800s, when the Japanese Shogunate abruptly came to an end and a new monarchial parliament was put into place.
When I arrived at the pier I took a few pictures of Sakurajima – the volcanic island that never stops smoking. Once I gave up on trying to get something decent I strolled into the ferry office to discover it had left at 8:30.
Frantic, I confirmed that my ticket was still valid for tomorrow then meandered back to the inhospitable hostel trying to figure out what I would do in the city I had completely written off. I also worried about my hostel bookings in Yakushima and how well I would be able to change them.
Course, I stepped into the hostel and was abruptly asked for my reservation. I tried to explain my situation but the owner didn’t care, telling me that the hostel was completely full. I thought this was odd, since my booking last night had been last minute and when I was there only two other people were in my dorm.
It also struck me as odd that a hostel would be full on Christmas day when, presumably, most people would be visiting their families.
God damn it.
I pulled out my Lonely Planet and went searching for the next cheapest hotel. Wandered around the block about three times before giving up (having no desire in repeating the previous night). During my walk I pieced together all the disparate information I had gathered about my travel.
I was caught off-guard by there only being one ferry because there was no listed time on my ticket. I had read in my travel book that the ferries had a tendency to cancel at the first sign of a dark cloud in the sky and that catching the next ferry was usually a simple task unless you traveled during Golden Week or the summer. I also found out that the ferry ride was 13 hours!
I then realized that I had been confusing the JetFoil and ferry as one and the same. I had assumed the difference in my ticket prices was because Mary found me a holiday deal and not that I was taking two different types of boats. When I was planning my holiday, I still needed to prepare for my climb on the day I arrived in Yakushima and I wouldn’t be able to do this if I took the ferry.
So, I decided to just swallow the $40 ferry ticket and purchase and Jet Foil ticket. I sat in the Jet Foil lobby, waiting for my boat to arrive (there was an amusing mix-up between the two companies and my ticket and instead of trying to sort it out I just decided to take a later boat with the same company as my return ticket).
There is one other white couple in the lobby but otherwise I’m surrounded by a bunch of old Japanese. I’m also beginning to suspect that Yakushima won’t be as green as these videos are suggesting.
…
Nope, Yakushima is green. And a little rainy.
I had a brief run in with the couple from the ferry when I rushed outside to take pictures of Sakurajima exploding. However, I haven’t seen them since landing. Finding my hostel was easy enough. I just had to walk down the street and turn left. It’s a small, unremarkable building pressed up against some sea rusted factory. The proprietor is miles friendlier than the Kagoshima dirty one-sixth dozen and he communicates to me mostly in Japanese. Whether this is out of consideration or necessity I’m not entirely sure.
I stocked up on supplies before hunkering down in the hostel for the rest of the day. My first human contact was with a small group of Australians who weren’t very outgoing. I focused on packing my food, showering one last time and not reminding myself how alone I was. Also, I had to avoid the proprietor who is trying to tell me my path is snowed in. Obviously, if he can’t discuss the situation with me, the snow won’t be there when I arrive tomorrow.
That’s how things work right?
My roommates began to arrive later in the evening. The first was a very friendly Japanese man from Saitama with acceptable English. His sunny disposition lifted my spirits and his forthright attitude helped break the ice with my other roommate.
Though likely just starved for company, I chatted up the young Australian for quite awhile. He, too, is an ALT working with Interac. He’s placed somewhere near Kagoshima in two junior high schools. This is his second year teaching and he hopes to continue for several more. We share a similar taste in fiction though his taste in movies and music leaves something to be desired.
Translation: he likes noise.
Though, I have a small confession to make. While traveling in Japan I don’t like to admit that I am an ALT working here. I don’t know why, perhaps I feel it makes for a good excuse why my Japanese is so terrible. Also, it avoids the awkward “marry my daughter” moments with Japanese parents. Why I tell other ALTs that I’m just traveling is likely just to maintain appearances. Also, it spares having to do the same song and dance about my company, work and the other tired conversations that often come up between co-workers.
Dammit, I’m on vacation! I refuse to discuss Interac for the rest of the week!

Balls – Part 1 of 8

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So here’s a little introduction since my counterpart just threw my writing willy-nilly into the Interwebs.

I’ve written a few scraps, collections and short stories tentatively branded as D&D (because I are so clever) and basically running under the premise of what life would be like if my friends and I lived in a fantasy world… of dungeons and dragons. Since they are all silly projects, I haven’t actually given them any editing time.

Turns out, there’s a lot less dungeons and dragons and a lot more bickering and squabbling. Most of the ideas for the stories come from big or little life events of the people around me. This one in particular was inspired by – you know what, I don’t want to ruin the surprise. It has the rather impressive title of Balls and is the first real short to feature Derrek as the main character.

Since they are all silly projects, I haven’t actually given them any editing time. So mind the spelling errors, grammar mistakes and logical inconsistencies. It’s the least I could do for my friends. So, enjoy!

—————————————————————————————

“If you know what is good for you, you will hand me the talisman.”

“Don’t do it!” Keirn called.
The wind whipped ferociously about them, mangling his words so that even Jeremiah had difficulty hearing them. He wasn’t sure if his friend was actually trying to persuade him or just giving the expected protestations of a man in his position.
Not that Jeremiah was in any shape to follow his advice. They were had by the balls.
The woman known as Scarlet Heather turned her hand crossbow, releasing a cackling bolt into the air that sizzled past Jeremiah’s left ear.
“Must this be protracted any further? Don’t make me ask politely.”
Her other hand held aloft the soft glowing balls clutched tightly in her fingers. They clinked as the woman swayed upon her feet. A great palpitation of light emitted from the twin artefacts, the flash curiously striated with red and blue. Jeremiah could almost hear them crackle like ice slowly breaking apart.
Jeremiah took one step forward. But the deck pitched beneath his feet, causing all those aboard to grab madly for support. Only the pirate captain herself seemed to keep her footing upon the pitching vessel, her tired expression never loosening.
“We need to hurry!” Vera cried. The squat girl had her arms wrapped tightly about some dangling netting, her feet barely skipping the rotting wood of the ship. “This ship won’t stand forever.”
“The least you could do is bargain our freedom first!” Kait shouted.
“Honestly, I could just shoot you know and take the talisman from your body,” Scarlet Heather said, aiming her weapon squarely at Jeremiah’s chest.
He felt his heart skip at the threat. He looked at her pleadingly, staring straight at that soft face framed by the long, whipping strands of shimmering russet hair. Only her hardened gaze stared back.
“Please!” he shouted. “Why… why are you doing this!”
The deck shifted once more, causing Jeremiah to slip and fall heavily against the wood. Pain shot up his banged elbow but his hand still managed to grasp the rail, keeping him from tumbling to his doom. Once he regained his footing, he saw his adversary’s weapon had dropped slightly.
“It’s nothing personal, dear,” she whispered, the words barely escaping her ruby lips. “Trust me, I had no intention of things ending like this. But I have a contract that I must finish. Please don’t think this is has any bearing on my opinion of your character.”
“But the bounty on us has been dropped!” Jeremiah said. “Our lives aren’t worth anything.”
“Speak for yourself!” Keirn shouted.
“Like I said, this is nothing personal. I just need the talisman, you can have your globes and we can all go our merry way.”
“You can’t give them those!” Vera shouted as her feet, fully airborne now, kicked helplessly while the ship leaned even further upon its side. “Our instructions were very precise!”
“Yours perhaps. I was hired solely to retrieve the talisman.”
“I don’t think that was the intention of your contract,” Vera said.
“I don’t deal with intentions, only with gold. Now, shall we continue this standoff or shall we wait for this miserable wreck to completely dislodge itself and plummet to our collective grave?”
The tattered sails overhead snapped warningly in the wind, each gust threatening to pull the vessel further from the craggy perch. The ship groaned beneath its own rotting bulk as if it were conscious of its eagerly anticipated demise.
“You can’t give her Messchernizzer’s Talisman of Shattered Dimensions!” Kait warned. “We don’t know the ramifications of activating it without the protection of Glory Aessalia! This could doom us all!”
A sudden gust careened against the hull, pitching all the members forcefully to the ground. A terrific explosion of splintering wood filled the air as the ancient ship screeched down the cliff side. Vera screamed as the ropes she clung to unravelled dropping her down the length of the deck as it ground itself to a sheer wall disintegrating against the stones.
Jeremiah suddenly felt his full girth supported by the lone hand grasping the rail, and his fingers burned with the strain of keeping him anchored to the collapsing vessel. With a shout, his strength gave way and he felt the sickening sense of airlessness as he tumbled. He caught sight of the hired thugs falling like screaming planks of wood to the yawning chasm beneath them. Jeremiah was about to join them as the old contents of the ship’s cargo burst through the hall, leaving enough broken wood and debris for him to land roughly upon the broken skeletal frame of the elderly craft.
He groaned, shifting to his side. But the wood splintered beneath his shifting mass, causing for him to throw his arms roughly about the thick shattered planks forming the sheer deck.
“We’re going to diiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Vera shrieked. She clung hysterically to the dangling rope, her body swinging with momentum to smack her against the deck over and over again as the wind rushed up from beneath them.
Suddenly, the ship came to a sudden stop with a tremendous crash. More wood burst from its degraded bonds, raining in splinters into the air. Jeremiah looked between his legs to see what had stopped their fall. The ship had managed to drive itself between a great rocky spire pinning them, temporarily, in the air at a great ninety degree angle.
He then quickly looked towards his friends. Though now guardless, as the last thug fell screaming past with his arms flailing, the siblings remained tied securely to the ship’s mast.
But what of the globes?!
Jeremiah looked back where Scarlet Heather had stood. The space was now completely empty of both woman and artefacts. Had she dropped? He looked down the length of the ship frantically searching for the rogue.
Miraculously, she stood upon the shattered rail, her hands unimpressively resting upon her hips. Beneath her, a great spider web of coils had appeared, likely launched by the curious contraption upon her wrist. Her hands still even glowed with the faint light of the orbs.
“Well, now that my men have fallen to their untimely demise, can we finally finish this exchange?”
Jeremiah turned to the two dissenting opinions. But Kait merely looked on the verge of tears and Keirn dangled curiously with his eyes closed as if he had drifted off into a boredom induced slumber.
Jeremiah scrambled to find some footing, the wood groaning beneath him. At last, he found enough purchase to turn and hold the talisman out, looking down at the remarkable woman.
“Very well. The talisman for the orb and my friend’s freedom.”
“If you think I’m coming up there to release your companions, you have another thing coming,” Heather called. “But drop the talisman and I will send up your globes.”
“No,” Jeremiah said. “How do I know I can trust you? The globes first.”
“Seriously? It would almost be easier to just wait for this damn ship to crash and search through its wreckage.”
“Just make the trade!” Kait called, her voice quivering.
Jeremiah took a resolute breath, reaching his hand out into the growling air as far as he could, then he released his grip.
The talisman tumbled from his fingers, turning about and about as it fell. Its long silver chain whipped about like a wild comet’s tail.
Heather raised her wrist launcher, shutting one eye as she steadied her aim. With unerring accuracy, a single bolt was loosed, snatching the twisting chain and plugging the object into the hall just within arm’s reach of her position.
She then grabbed a single piece of leather, looping it upon itself and nestling the globes beneath. She fastened it to her launcher, took careful aim once more, and fired the orbs towards Jeremiah. It struck the side of the deck just by his head, the tinkling of the orbs within giving off another rainbow pulsation.
“Until next time!” Heather called, raising her fingers to her lips and blowing Jeremiah a kiss. He felt his heart skip quickly once more.
“What about my friends?” Jeremiah called.
“I suggest you get them quickly,” Heather cried. “I don’t think this ship will remain for long.”
She balanced along her makeshift platform until she reached the rocky spire, taking the time to inspect it before finding a suitable ledge to begin her descent.
“And what of meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?!” Vera cried.
“I shall see you back at the port!”
And with that, the pirate captain departed, leaving Jeremiah with the sobbing redhead and his still bound companions. With tears still running down her cheeks, Vera began to slowly inch her way up the dangling rope but Jeremiah had no idea of how he was going to get to Keirn and Kait.
Had he been a religious man, he would have prayed.

“Why can’t these things ever be easy,” he muttered.

Continue to Balls Part 2 >

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Yakushima Adventures (Oh God, It’s Friday)

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Whelp, almost forgot to post today. Since most of my stuff is on my external (which is all the way downstairs and ain’t no body got time for stairs) I rooted about my computer until I could find some words to post. It’s also far too late for me to actually come up with something original so I present an entry from my exotic Christmas travels in the mysterious and verdant Yakushima Island.

Side Note – is it redundant to call it Yakushima Island?

Day 1 – Christmas Eve

To say that the start of my journey was a little haphazard might be a bit of an understatement. Let it be known, at the very least, I have interesting adventures. For some reason, I had the wrong dates in my mind for when I began and it was only a last minute confirmation that revealed I was leaving a full day earlier than expected. Apparently, I had been reading my ferry ticket instead of my airplane ticket for the last month.
So, my day started at 6:45 with a last minute check of Steam’s Christmas Sale. There are some priorities that just can’t be ignored. Sadly, there was nothing of interesting so I grabbed my pack and was on my bike by 8:30. The plan was to take the direct bus right to Haneda airport which, assuming nothing unexpected happened, would leave me with a two hour wait at the airport. I figured it was better to be early than late in these situations.
The plan also included stopping by the post office to get some extra cash. However, it seems, ATMs have more benefits than most workers as they were closed until after the yuubinkyoku opened at 9:00. So I had to stop at the central post office. At least that was on the way to the hotel.
I parked my bike in the notoriously dangerous Belinda/George neighbourhood, hoping that the sad state of repair my bike was in would deter any would-be thieves. I then hurried to the hotel and quickly purchased two tickets for the Haneda airport. Curious when my bus would arrive, I popped outside to check the timetable.
I had missed the only one that would get me there on time – at 8:00. The next one wasn’t until 11:35. Oh shit.
With few options, I hopped on the bus to Tokyo station, fishing my Lonely Planet out and plotting a route through Tokyo’s underground to Haneda airport. Thankfully, getting there by train was incredibly easy. According to my research, I had three stops and a twenty minute tram. It was good that I allotted two hours in case of emergency.
Alas, it turned out, that two hours wasn’t enough. Who would have guessed that the roads would be incredibly congested on Christmas Eve. Well… this probably surprises nobody but me. It took over 3 hours to get into Tokyo and though I got from the station to the airport without any difficulties, I still managed to arrive just as my plane was leaving.
Thankfully, the Japanese pride themselves on customer service and an incredibly helpful worker got me a new ticket for a plane in a hour and ushered me through security before I even knew what was going on. It seemed that, while everyone was going somewhere, they weren’t going by plane.
I also learned that my backpack counts as carry-on. Furthermore, I learned that tripods can’t be brought on as carry-on. Good things to know for when I return.
Now, I don’t know if it is customary or if the attendants saw me board, but they gave an English version of every announcement. I was more impressed that I could understand them more than anything else. Not that this was anything but a nice observation since I promptly spent the entire two hour flight unconscious save for a brief moment when they offered me a complimentary drink. Too groggy to want to deal with it, I told them I was fine in Japanese. To which, the attendants immediately began talking about how I spoke Japanese… or something. I can’t really remember too well since I just rolled over and went back to sleep.
I have notes here on turbulence during the flight but that’s pretty boring. Let’s see if there was anything else of interest that happened this day. Airport staff got me safely on a bus for Kagoshima. Couldn’t find my hostel for an hour since the Lonely Planet’s map is incredibly useless. Hostel service was pretty unimpressive but the place was cheap.
Oh, to celebrate the festive season I made some wonderful purchases for you – the reader. First was a new pair of earbuds that are both rain and sweat resistant! They’ll be perfect for my runs on Monday which, invariably, is the same day Kamisu decides to rain on every week. I also bought a tripod, one of those Gorilla things that can wrap around posts. I’ve been meaning to get a tripod in order to improve my photos for awhile now and Yakushima seemed the perfect time to try and get better photos.
I passed a Kentucky Fried Chicken and can confirm that the Japanese eat chicken on Christmas. There was no seating in the restaurant as that whole area was packed with piles of take-out buckets. I wish I was exaggerating. Had I my camera with me, I would have photographic proof. Sadly, you’ll just have to take my work for it.
My dinner was less exciting. I stopped by a conveni for a typical bento and a piece of “Christmas” cake and eat it in my bunk at the hostel.
Merry Christmas…
Sigh. Forever Alone.

The Sliver – Part 6 of 6

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< Return to The Sliver Part 5

Kait paused, her mind still struggling to understand what was happening. She stepped towards her brother, but Calos called out pointing towards the floor.

            She looked down, her eyes following a soft splattering sound. Her breath caught in her throat.
            The sliver was not just a piece of a thorn. Somehow, the thing had grown and thin tendrils whipped at the air and ground, slapping against the stones and blood. It bounced as if the flesh and blood had given it unreal life.
            “That… that… was in… me…” Keirn whispered.
            The demonic seed slapped some more, bouncing like a fish out of water. It eventually strayed close to the firewood where the thin tendrils stopped striking stone and hit bark instead. Filled with an unnatural purpose the tendrils wrapped around the wood digging into the surface. The thorny seed sucked against the bark, imbedding itself within the fibrous remains. There, it appeared to take root, new tendrils cracking from the seed’s surface and wrapping around the wood.
            Kait watched in horror as the firewood was quickly enveloped within a green mass. The wood shook from the ordeal splintering beneath the strength of the plants crushing grip.
            Calos immediately sprang forward, rapidly snapping his palm against the piece of wood. As if sensing his approach, some of the tendrils unfolded attempting to wrap around his wrist with their thorny grip. However, the strike came so quickly that they snapped only the empty air as the chunk of wood became airborne. It struck against the floor once before skidding into the dying embers of the fire.
            There was a popping and crackling as the flames leapt upon the new fuel. The fire burst into life as a sickening squeal arose. The sound persisted for a few seconds as the three watched the flames burst along the green plant, running all along its length and turning it into charcoal. The squealing then ceased.
            Kait hurried to her brother, who had already begun tying his blood soaked cloth around his open wound.
            “Are you alright?” she cried.
            He looked up at her. Gone was the wildness that had greeted her earlier, replaced by weariness and a hint of relief.
            “I got it,” he smiled before his head fell back and his eyes closed.
            Kait and Calos picked him up and lay him close to the fire. Calos padded up his bedroll as Kait tied a clean bandage around his hand. She used a damp cloth to clean his arm and face as best she could.
            “I’ll stay up and watch over him,” she told Calos. But he shook his head and refused to go to sleep. The two of them stayed up watching over him until sleep snatched Kait from her persistent vigil.
            When Kait opened her eyes, she was greeted with the bright morning sun. She slowly raised her head, half wondering if the events swimming foggily in her mind of the previous night had just been a bad dream. However, her heart began to beat furiously as she rose from her slumber.
            She was lying alone in that empty inn.
            Neither Calos nor Keirn were anywhere in sight. Keirn’s bedroll was still unrolled on the ground, rumpled and carelessly laid aside. Kait reached around for her bow, affirming its proximity, before she quickly tossed on her over coat. She was just clasping her cloak when Calos strolled casually into the inn, a few large branches tucked under his arm.
            He gave her a quizzical look as he walked to the fire, threw a few fresh pieces of wood on, stoked the flames and stirred the softly boiling pot.
            “Ummm… where’s Keirn?” Kait asked.
            Calos pointed out the door. Bow and quiver in hand, Kait walked to the empty entranceway.
            The town was still deserted, small whirlwinds of dust kicking along the dried streets. Kait looked up and down the main throughway then ducked back inside the inn.
            “Where exactly is he?” she asked.
            Calos sighed and waved his hand at the door. Kait frowned.
            “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just told me?!”
            Calos chewed his lip, and then smiled. He produced a pool, scooped some of the cooked wheat into it and offered it politely to her. Reluctantly, Kait dropped the subject and turned to eating the meagre gruel that was breakfast.
            She was almost done her bowl when Keirn strolled in.
            “Finally. I thought we would have to toss a whole day’s travels because you weren’t going to wake up.”
            “Where have you been?!”
            “I see Calos made breakfast. Great, I’m starving.”
            Keirn walked over and took the offered bowl. He ignored his sister’s queries until he had finished of the gruel and washed its bland taste away with a healthy mouthful of water.
            “You had me worried sick, where did you wander off?”
            “Well, by my estimation,” Keirn said, leaning back against his crumbled bedroll, “I suspect that the source of all our troubles is not too far from here.”
            “What are you talking about?”
            “That plant… thing that had unceremoniously been incubating in my hand,” Keirn said, his voice biting with bitterness. “I’m fairly certain I’ve located its root system.”
            “I’m sorry… what?”
            “Last night, after you had fallen asleep, I was given the chance to think over everything that had occurred. I’m fairly certain that I had been infected with some bizarre parasitic plant life that imbeds itself into other organic flesh to obtain nutrients and grow. What I had was just a feeler of the damn thing. But, since it is a plant, it must have a root system in order to obtain water. If we destroy the roots, the plant should shrivel and die. Just like plucking a weed.”
            “Wait, so that thing that… you had… there’s more of it?”
            “Yes, and I believe it’s in the farmstead to the south of us.”
            “What makes you say that?”
            “Well, it certainly couldn’t be living in this desolate waste and I contracted the sliver between the farmstead and this village. As we had already encountered animal life in the woods, it had to be the farmstead. Course, I went this morning once dawn broke to check it out.”
            “All by yourself?!”
            “Well, Calos had to tend the fire and you were sleeping.”
            “What if… you got seeded again?!”
            “Psh,” Keirn said dismissively. “Now that I know what I have to keep an eye out for, I’m not worried. Come, finish your breakfast. I hope you liked it; it’s the last of our food stores.”
            Keirn then stood, grabbing his sword and walked out of the inn. Calos shrugged and poured the ashes of the previous fire to douse the current flame before following. Kait ate the remainder of her breakfast and joined Calos outside, stomach still growling.
            Keirn picked up a torch he had left on the stone well and checked to insure it was still burning strong.
            “You aren’t planning on going there, are you?” Kait asked.
            “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”
            “Well, there are the obvious dangers for one.”
            “Come now, I would think you would jump at the chance to help your fellow man.”
            “But you wouldn’t.”
            “I’m wounded!” Keirn mockingly exclaimed, clutching his breast. “Now, if you’ve got your stuff, let’s go. If we’re quick, we can even get a half day’s travel before we have to make camp.”
            He then turned, strolling boldly from the town. Calos hurried after and Kait was left with no choice but to join them.
            They crossed the waste and reached the hill, Keirn never slowing his pace. Kait jogged to keep up with him.
            “Do you even have a plan for killing this thing? You don’t even know what it is?”
            “It’s a plant, what more is there to know? Destroy the roots, kill the organism.”
            “I’m not sure how I feel about going to its center when a simple thorn nearly drove you insane.”
            Keirn stopped and rounded on his sister.
            “I wasn’t insane. I was just concerned about infection. That is all.”
            He resumed his course.
            “Can’t we just continue on our way? This thing is behind us.”
            “Technically, it’s ahead of us,” Keirn replied, waving his torch in the direction of the hill.
            “You know, your pigheadedness is really tiring some days!”
            “You’re welcome to go home!” he called back.
            They continued on, Kait spending most of her time shooting hateful looks towards her sibling. However, anger turned to worry once they climbed the hill and began the treacherous descent down its steep slope. She had forgotten how difficult the thing had been to climb and stumbled multiple times even without the added weight of her pack slowing her down.
            Keirn made a show of wrapping thick cloth around his hands before climbing and the others followed as best they could in the path that he blazed. A couple of times he unsheathed his sword and stabbed furiously at the earth. Those moments, Calos and Kait made sure to give the spot he attacked a wide berth.
            After the treacherous climb, they faced the fence. However, this time around, there was a section that had been collapsed beneath a rather large broken branch.
            “I’m assuming that was you?” Kait asked.
            “I had to cross it again.”
            They climbed over the fence and skirted around the cornfield, sticking to the long grass that separated the field from the woods.
            As they drew closer to the farmstead, Kait noticed that the roof seemed to sway in a manner untouched by the wind. There was still the thin wisp of smoke escaping from the chimney, but it was much smaller now. The green colouration also became defined as they drew close and Kait felt her feet falter.
            The entire building was wrapped with green tubules that poured from every hole and space in the stone. The windows were completely wrapped by the plant and the straw in the roof was mostly gone, replaced by the writhing green tendrils.
            This was a much more mature plant then the one removed from Keirn’s hand. All along the walls, what could have been mistaken as individual climbing ivy was instead great leaves sprouting from the sinewy stalks.
            “I wonder how it seeds,” Kait whispered to herself, half forgetting the dangers that had preoccupied her mind before. Thus, as they circled the farmstead, gauging the best entry point, Kait spent her time looking for buds or cones that the plant could use for reproduction.
            “Here we go,” Keirn muttered. There was a storm cellar entrance that was framed in iron. Tendrils broke through the wood but most of it was gone and the plant seemed reluctant to wrap around the iron frame.
            “Everyone ready for this?” Keirn asked. He frowned slightly. “Kait, if you want, you can stay out here.”
            “No,” Kait said quickly, her curiosity peaked. “I want to go inside.”
            “Very well. I suggest we keep our weapons ready. If the seed’s vigour is any judge, we may have to defend ourselves.”
            With that, Keirn kicked in the remainder of the cellar door. The tendrils snapped back as he pushed his way in, the torch held out in front of him like a ward, his sword held back ready to strike anything that came near.
            They stepped down into the cellar. There was an incredibly earthly and sickly sweet smell. Kait couldn’t identify it, but assumed it was coming from the masses of green vines that stretched along the ground. Most of them ran up the stairs into the main household but a large portion was wrapped about a hump in one corner of the room. Keirn approached cautiously, the torch constantly flicking from side to side as if he expected tendrils to shoot from the shadows at any moment.
            The tendrils forming the hump seemed the most active, slowly wrapping and squeezing together. The sickly smell seemed to rise from that area of the cellar. Slowly Keirn held his sword over the mass. The plant didn’t seem to react, though how it would Kait didn’t know. After a moment’s deliberation, Keirn plunged his weapon into the heap.
            Several vines severed at the thrust. Those cut but still intact recoiled from the blow, snapping into the darkness and retreating through a collapsed portion in the cellar’s wall to the safety of the shadows beyond.
            A peculiar liquid oozed up from the darkened heap, pooling over the remaining vines. The tendrils that hadn’t recoiled continued their steady strangulation. Keirn lifted his sword to the light, the dark ooze revealed to be a sickly red.
            “Blood,” Keirn muttered. He bent down and cut away at more of the vines. Several snapped away while Keirn removed a portion of the plant. He stepped back once he had cut off enough to see beneath the tendrils, a look of revulsion on his face.
            “What is it?” Kait asked. She moved closer but Keirn pulled the torch away so she couldn’t see clearly.
            “Let’s keep going,” he muttered. He stepped carefully towards the hole.
            Kait lingered a little, trying to see through the dark at the heap. But she couldn’t make out anything distinct with the torch’s light vanishing. Also, there was a stomach turning squelching as the vines continued their binding. She took a deep breath and followed the other two.
            The room they entered appeared to be the wine cellar. Most of the casks lay broken and covered in the vines, which continued into rough hewn rock beyond. The trio didn’t linger long sensing that what they sought lay in the unshaped earth.
            The vines didn’t cover this tunnel as much as they did the farmstead. They formed a thick, slowly moving cord in the centre. Keirn stuck close to the dry earthen walls. Calos and Kait followed carefully in his footsteps. The tunnel began to gently slope downwards.
            “Do you think it dug this?” Kait asked.
            “No, I think this was part of the farm,” Keirn muttered.
            The tunnel bent sharply then opened up into a spacious cavern. Water, from an underground river, trickled out of a small mouth in the western wall, forming a short waterfall that splattered ominously.
            The vines coalesced near the center of the room, wrapping about themselves until they formed a large pillar crowned with a single broad white petal flower. A peculiar luminescence emanated from the petals, casting off a ghostly glimmer that lit the cavern on its own. Three enormous stamens emerged from the center, casting off soft golden flakes into the air.
            Unlike the tunnel, the vines spread out to ledges carved into the walls. Water trickled down these smoothed outcroppings that appeared to have been hand carved. Leafy protrusions grew from these elevated pools, each slightly different than the rest displaying a remarkable variability in leaf size, colour and texture.
            “I think that’s it,” Calos whispered.
            A loud scratching echoed behind them and the three all turned around. The long trail of vines was rapidly slithering down the tunnel, a large bulk transported within their grasp. The trio jumped aside as the large mass was yanked into the cavern, pulled towards the flowered pillar in the center. Once it retracted within the folds, the plant began to quiver and shake. The stamens released even more pollen as the pillar’s base expanded until the lump was dragged into the dead center of the plant.
            The vines then constricted into themselves, a ghastly crunch ensuing. The red sanguine poured from the numerous spaces between the vines, rushing down the stalks and painting them deep scarlet. The plant convulsed a few more times before the petals drooped; satiated.
“This is it,” Keirn said, stepping boldly forward, brandishing the torch in his hands.
“No wait!” Kait called.
Her brother paused.
“What?”
“You can’t just kill this creature.”
Confusion painted Keirn’s face.
“What?”
“It’s not evil, don’t you see? It’s just another organism, struggling to survive against the harsh trials of its days?”
“Kait… it kills people.”
“That may be, but there are many plants that abstract required nutrients from insects and the like. Are you to say that we must hunt them and kill them because that is the only way for them to survive.”
Keirn shook his head.
“Are you saying we should let this… thing live from some misguided sense of morality?”
“What makes us different from animals if not the realization that all life is precious and needs protection? This plant could very well be unique, the first amongst its kind. You can’t just set it on fire because of the ways it needs to eat.”
“Yes, I can, just watch.”
“But why?!” Kait cried.
“Because,” Keirn said, with steely determination, “it gave me a sliver.”
And before she could react, he pitched the torch with all his might. The flame flickered as it soared through the air, landing squarely in the stalky center of the creature. Immediately, the green vegetation caught alight. That same, eerie shrill filled the air as the flames engulfed the plant. Tendrils snapped violently in the air as the flames ran up and devoured the plant and its enormous flower.

Keirn watched long enough to feel satisfied the thing was toasted before he turned and beckoned the others to follow. Kait whispered a silent apology before turning and leaving the plant to its fiery funeral.

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The Sliver – Part 5 of 6

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< Return to The Sliver Part 4

“What happened here?” Kait gasped.
            Keirn walked over to the skeleton and picked up the key. He then turned and walked down the stairs, the others following behind. The key fit easily into the lock on the iron door but it took their combined might to push the rusted hinges open. With a hellish screech the door gave way, revealing the host of skeletal bodies within. They were all clearly human, laying atop metallic odds and ends.
            Keirn cautiously entered, taking care to step around the bones as best he could. There were too many though, and the sickening crunch of cartilage filled the room. Kait reluctantly followed, but Calos refused to enter, standing and watching with horror filled eyes.
            Kait noticed that numerous coins littered the ground, along with simple pieces of jewellery.
            “I think many of these were women,” she said, aghast.
            Keirn rummaged around the nightmarish scene for a bit, but abandoned the bodies and instead focussed on the walls. Ledges ran the length of the walls, and after running his hand across them he found they were covered in soot and charcoal. The stone walls were covered in black flakes as if they had been burnt.
            “I think this is some sort of oven,” Keirn muttered.
            “Then… these people were burned alive?!” Kait cried.
            “I don’t think so. The bones aren’t blackened. I think they were just locked in here.”
            “But why?”
            Keirn didn’t answer. Instead, he cocked his head to the side, then pushed the piles of coal and bones aside. He manoeuvred his way to the corner, quizzically looking at some recess in the wall. He held his hand before the opening, feeling the wind blow gently against it. Puzzled, he crouched, peering up the hole.
            “There’s something up here,” he muttered, reaching carelessly inside. His face screwed up in concentration before a look of triumph appeared. With a great heave he yanked his arm free. With a rush of soot a small skeleton tumbled out; the bones cracking against the cold stone.
            Kait shrieked, jumping back.
            Keirn crouched down again and looked up the hole.
            “It seems this one was trying to crawl out,” Keirn muttered. “I think I see an opening. Barred, of course.”
            “This is so disgusting,” Kait whispered. “Can we go?”
            “Yeah, in just a second. We should collect the coins.”
            “Ugh, are you serious?”
            “They aren’t going to use them, but I suppose you could ask permission if you’d like.”
            “You can get them,” Kait whispered. “I think I’m going to wait outside.”
            She turned and quickly left the room, Calos following behind her. The two of them waited quietly for Keirn to finish his scavenging. Kait closed her eyes but, try as she might, she couldn’t forget that scene. Keirn emerged shortly after.
            “We should keep looking for something flammable to build a fire,” Keirn muttered.
            “I don’t know, what if there are more buildings like this,” Kait whispered.
            “I doubt that,” Keirn muttered. “I don’t think the town’s big enough to fill up another.”
            It took a few more hours before they turned up anything useful. The three of them searched together and Keirn usually inspected the buildings first to insure there weren’t any more “surprises” lying around. It wasn’t until the sun began to set that they finally found what they had been searching for. Nestled in the back of a large fireplace, Kait discovered that one of the stones was loose and pried it open to reveal a secret stash within. Though they discovered a small collection of silver jewellery, it was the wooden box and satin lining that were of greater interest to the party. Between the box and the hidden cask of wine they found in a stone cellar, they had enough wood to get a decent fire started.
            It was in the inn that the three of them agreed to spend the night. Kait felt it was far enough away from ‘that place’ that she would be able to sleep soundly. Furthermore, there was a stone fireplace where they could build the fire. There was also a sense of propriety that Kait felt; it just seemed appropriate that they stay in the inn.
            After much fussing with the tinder, Kait was able to get a gentle blaze going. The three of them gathered around the crackling fire. The sun had already begun to set, and with it its departure came the arrival of the cold night air. After a few minutes searching, Kait produced a small pot, some water and enough spices to make a broth for them to eat.
            “I’m going to be really glad when we find a real village so we can get a decent meal,” Keirn grumbled.
            “Yes, well, we’ve tried the fruits and meats but those don’t travel well, if you remember.”
            “It’s good,” Calos said eagerly, digging into the broth.
            “You know,” Kait said cheerfully, “that’s the most I’ve heard you ever say.”
            “What do you mean, he’s said two words before,” Keirn corrected.
            “No, he said ‘It is good.’”
            “Technically, he said ‘it’s good.’ It’s is a contraction.”
            “Well, yes,” Kait said frowning. “But he was communicating three words.”
            “No. He communicated two.”
            “He said three.”
            “He said two.”
            “Look, he meant to say ‘It is good.’ Why do you have to ruin this? It’s a cause for celebration, he’s speaking more.”
            Keirn shook his head.
            “Are you trying to suggest that contractions are three words? What about possession. If I say ‘Keirn’s spoon’ am I communicating three words or two?”
            “Well… two I suppose,” Kait said.
            “So why is the contraction different from the possession?”
            “Well, the contraction is expression three ideas. It’s expressing that the soup is good.”
            “That doesn’t follow at all,” Keirn said.
            “How not?”
            “Well, the possession expresses three ideas. It communicates: the subject, myself; the item, spoon; and the ownership, mine. I’m not saying the spoon is your’s or Calos’ or anybodies. I’m saying this spoon is mine.”
            “Look, the important thing is he’s saying more. I don’t see why you have to ruin this.”
            “Because he’s not saying more,” Keirn sighed. “He’s saying as much as he was before. When he says ‘It is good,’ I may feel the need to celebrate.”
            “Fine then! Calos, can you please say ‘It is good.’”
            Calos only shrugged.
            “Sorry.”
            Keirn laughed.
            “Boys,” Kait grumbled.
            She wiped off her spoon and bowl, having learned before that washing dishes was often a waste of water. She packed her things away, then wrapped herself up with her blanket as she nestled down by the fire again.
            “Is it still bothering you?” Kait asked.
            Keirn looked up from his hand.
            “I hadn’t even noticed I was rubbing it,” he replied. A look of concern crossed his face.
            “Look, it’s probably not going to become infected. Just a few more days and I’m sure we’ll find someone who can remove it. I mean, it is just a sliver after all.”
            “I know. It’s just that…”
            “Yes?”
            “It’s nothing,” he said, retying the cloth around it. “I suppose we should figure out who’s going to take what watch before we all nod off.”
            “What do you mean?”
            Keirn nodded his head towards Calos. The young man, having just finished his broth, had curled up on the cold stone and fallen asleep with neither a pillow nor a blanket.
            “Oh, dear. We need to get that poor boy a bedroll,” Kait said.
            “I think he may like it better that way.”
            “Miser.”
            “I’m serious. There’s something… peaceful about him when he sleeps. I don’t think he minds too much.”
            “How can anyone enjoy falling asleep on hard stone or rough ground?”
            “You could always ask him,” Keirn grinned.
            “Thanks. Want me to take second?”
            “No,” Keirn sighed. “I know how much you hate it. Besides, I can fall asleep easier than you can.”
            “You sure?”
            “Yes.”
            “Alright,” Kait smiled. “Try not to sleep too well.”
            It wasn’t that she was worried, there wasn’t anything out there that they really had to keep watch for. Mostly, they would have to insure the fire remained lit. Kait was just reluctant to fall asleep while her mind was still thinking about that room. All through her watch she kept glancing up at the door, half expecting a skeletal host to be standing there with eyes full of anger because the three of them had done nothing to save them.
            Through the night she kept her bow and arrows by her side. But there was nothing in that small village. There was no howling of distant wolves, buzzing of insects or neighing of nearby horses. It was strange to spend a night in an inn and have nothing but the soft snores of her companions to listen to. She entertained herself by watching the hypnotic flickering of the fires, though while they danced before her she could feel sleep slowly sweeping over her.
            It’s a terrible thing, trying to keep oneself awake when the body attempts every trick to make it rest. She recognized the first warning signs, the steady drop in her breathing and the drooping of the eyes. The cold seemed to penetrate her blanket, though it was really just her body beginning to shut down. She fought as best she could; snapping her head back every dip it took. She tried counting the number of times her chin touched her chest: 1… 2… 3…
            It was the light tapping on her shoulder that brought her crashing back to consciousness. Keirn wordlessly pointed towards his discarded bedroll and she complacently complied. It was so much easier letting the night swallow her up once she was lying down, her head resting on a thin layer of crushed feathers.
            She didn’t know what brought her out of that conscious less abyss. Her eyes seemed to be open long before she, herself, awoke. The first thing she noticed was that the fire had burned down to a dying smoulder, casting deep red shadows as the last few flames burned beneath vanishing embers. She immediately noticed the pile of firewood laying untouched near the untended flames and a part of her recognized the immediate signs of trouble.
            She sat upright, looking around for her brother. She didn’t see anything at first, but she heard something. It was a ragged, almost ravished breathing that pulled her eyes to the dark corners of the common room. There, light by the hellish reflections off the stone walls was a dark form feverishly working with some nightmarish fervour.
            “Keirn?” she whispered, but the form didn’t respond. She pulled the sheets slowly back, her mind shaking the shackles of sleep as best they could. Her eyes seemed driven by another consciousness as they pulled themselves from the form in the half-darkness to the puddles on the floor.
            She gasped.
            Blood gathered in tiny pools leading from the fire side to the corner. She reached for her weapon, her mind conjuring terrible images of carnage and cannibalism. Still heady with the draught of sleep, she shrilly called at the monster in the corner.
            “What do you want?!”
            Its face looked at her; a face framed in crimson frenzy.
            “I have to get it out,” it grunted.
            She noticed then, the sharp knife in its hands. Blood ran in small rivulets down its arm, staining the sleeve and dripping onto the floor. Back to its work it turned, hair matted by sweat and dirt hiding it from her.
            “Keirn?” she whispered.
            Something stirred near her and she took her eyes from the form just long enough to see Calos stirring. He wiped tired eyes with clenched fists before looking at the terror unfolding. Confusion gripped him as he lay motionless witnessing the scene unfold. Kait turned back to the individual, slowly peeling her blanket completely off and getting to her feet.
            “Keirn… please stop,” she pleaded. The form continued its crazed cutting, a fresh squirt of blood shooting out and striking the cold wall. Kait felt her stomach flop.
            She slowly approached, making sure to step around the small puddles on the floor, fearful of touching the scarlet drops. She didn’t want to startle him, fearful of what he may do and unsure of what she should do.
            “Keirn…”
            She reached out, finger tentatively pressing through the air. He continued to ignore her, continued his cutting and slicing. Shaking, she laid her hand on his wet shoulder; damp from perspiration. He stopped, turning to face her again. Her hand recoiled and they both froze, eyes locked between fear and madness.
            He bolted, skirting along the walls away from her.
            “Stop, please!” she called.
            He made for the door, blood splattering against the floor.
            Calos was on his feet, barring the exit and he swerved, ending near the fire. No one moved, all eyes watching each other. Minutes passed with the soft popping of the embers.
            Seemingly satisfied that no one was moving, he returned to his hand.

            Kait cried, running forward as he held the knife aloft, bringing it down with crazed certainty against the offending digit. He howled with pain as the blade cut through flesh and released a new spurt of blood against the floor. Amongst the dark drops clattered something more chitinous. With the foreign object removed, the weapon fell from his shaking hand, the iron clattering against the stone. He slumped against the stone wall with breaths coming in heavy bursts.

Continue to The Sliver Part 6 >

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The Sliver – Part 4 of 6

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< Return to The Sliver Part 3

“What happened here?” Kait gasped.

            Keirn walked over to the skeleton and picked up the key. He then turned and walked down the stairs, the others following behind. The key fit easily into the lock on the iron door but it took their combined might to push the rusted hinges open. With a hellish screech the door gave way, revealing the host of skeletal bodies within. They were all clearly human, laying atop metallic odds and ends.
            Keirn cautiously entered, taking care to step around the bones as best he could. There were too many though, and the sickening crunch of cartilage filled the room. Kait reluctantly followed, but Calos refused to enter, standing and watching with horror filled eyes.
            Kait noticed that numerous coins littered the ground, along with simple pieces of jewellery.
            “I think many of these were women,” she said, aghast.
            Keirn rummaged around the nightmarish scene for a bit, but abandoned the bodies and instead focussed on the walls. Ledges ran the length of the walls, and after running his hand across them he found they were covered in soot and charcoal. The stone walls were covered in black flakes as if they had been burnt.
            “I think this is some sort of oven,” Keirn muttered.
            “Then… these people were burned alive?!” Kait cried.
            “I don’t think so. The bones aren’t blackened. I think they were just locked in here.”
            “But why?”
            Keirn didn’t answer. Instead, he cocked his head to the side, then pushed the piles of coal and bones aside. He manoeuvred his way to the corner, quizzically looking at some recess in the wall. He held his hand before the opening, feeling the wind blow gently against it. Puzzled, he crouched, peering up the hole.
            “There’s something up here,” he muttered, reaching carelessly inside. His face screwed up in concentration before a look of triumph appeared. With a great heave he yanked his arm free. With a rush of soot a small skeleton tumbled out; the bones cracking against the cold stone.
            Kait shrieked, jumping back.
            Keirn crouched down again and looked up the hole.
            “It seems this one was trying to crawl out,” Keirn muttered. “I think I see an opening. Barred, of course.”
            “This is so disgusting,” Kait whispered. “Can we go?”
            “Yeah, in just a second. We should collect the coins.”
            “Ugh, are you serious?”
            “They aren’t going to use them, but I suppose you could ask permission if you’d like.”
            “You can get them,” Kait whispered. “I think I’m going to wait outside.”
            She turned and quickly left the room, Calos following behind her. The two of them waited quietly for Keirn to finish his scavenging. Kait closed her eyes but, try as she might, she couldn’t forget that scene. Keirn emerged shortly after.
            “We should keep looking for something flammable to build a fire,” Keirn muttered.
            “I don’t know, what if there are more buildings like this,” Kait whispered.
            “I doubt that,” Keirn muttered. “I don’t think the town’s big enough to fill up another.”
            It took a few more hours before they turned up anything useful. The three of them searched together and Keirn usually inspected the buildings first to insure there weren’t any more “surprises” lying around. It wasn’t until the sun began to set that they finally found what they had been searching for. Nestled in the back of a large fireplace, Kait discovered that one of the stones was loose and pried it open to reveal a secret stash within. Though they discovered a small collection of silver jewellery, it was the wooden box and satin lining that were of greater interest to the party. Between the box and the hidden cask of wine they found in a stone cellar, they had enough wood to get a decent fire started.
            It was in the inn that the three of them agreed to spend the night. Kait felt it was far enough away from ‘that place’ that she would be able to sleep soundly. Furthermore, there was a stone fireplace where they could build the fire. There was also a sense of propriety that Kait felt; it just seemed appropriate that they stay in the inn.
            After much fussing with the tinder, Kait was able to get a gentle blaze going. The three of them gathered around the crackling fire. The sun had already begun to set, and with it its departure came the arrival of the cold night air. After a few minutes searching, Kait produced a small pot, some water and enough spices to make a broth for them to eat.
            “I’m going to be really glad when we find a real village so we can get a decent meal,” Keirn grumbled.
            “Yes, well, we’ve tried the fruits and meats but those don’t travel well, if you remember.”
            “It’s good,” Calos said eagerly, digging into the broth.
            “You know,” Kait said cheerfully, “that’s the most I’ve heard you ever say.”
            “What do you mean, he’s said two words before,” Keirn corrected.
            “No, he said ‘It is good.’”
            “Technically, he said ‘it’s good.’ It’s is a contraction.”
            “Well, yes,” Kait said frowning. “But he was communicating three words.”
            “No. He communicated two.”
            “He said three.”
            “He said two.”
            “Look, he meant to say ‘It is good.’ Why do you have to ruin this? It’s a cause for celebration, he’s speaking more.”
            Keirn shook his head.
            “Are you trying to suggest that contractions are three words? What about possession. If I say ‘Keirn’s spoon’ am I communicating three words or two?”
            “Well… two I suppose,” Kait said.
            “So why is the contraction different from the possession?”
            “Well, the contraction is expression three ideas. It’s expressing that the soup is good.”
            “That doesn’t follow at all,” Keirn said.
            “How not?”
            “Well, the possession expresses three ideas. It communicates: the subject, myself; the item, spoon; and the ownership, mine. I’m not saying the spoon is your’s or Calos’ or anybodies. I’m saying this spoon is mine.”
            “Look, the important thing is he’s saying more. I don’t see why you have to ruin this.”
            “Because he’s not saying more,” Keirn sighed. “He’s saying as much as he was before. When he says ‘It is good,’ I may feel the need to celebrate.”
            “Fine then! Calos, can you please say ‘It is good.’”
            Calos only shrugged.
            “Sorry.”
            Keirn laughed.
            “Boys,” Kait grumbled.
            She wiped off her spoon and bowl, having learned before that washing dishes was often a waste of water. She packed her things away, then wrapped herself up with her blanket as she nestled down by the fire again.
            “Is it still bothering you?” Kait asked.
            Keirn looked up from his hand.
            “I hadn’t even noticed I was rubbing it,” he replied. A look of concern crossed his face.
            “Look, it’s probably not going to become infected. Just a few more days and I’m sure we’ll find someone who can remove it. I mean, it is just a sliver after all.”
            “I know. It’s just that…”
            “Yes?”
            “It’s nothing,” he said, retying the cloth around it. “I suppose we should figure out who’s going to take what watch before we all nod off.”
            “What do you mean?”
            Keirn nodded his head towards Calos. The young man, having just finished his broth, had curled up on the cold stone and fallen asleep with neither a pillow nor a blanket.
            “Oh, dear. We need to get that poor boy a bedroll,” Kait said.
            “I think he may like it better that way.”
            “Miser.”
            “I’m serious. There’s something… peaceful about him when he sleeps. I don’t think he minds too much.”
            “How can anyone enjoy falling asleep on hard stone or rough ground?”
            “You could always ask him,” Keirn grinned.
            “Thanks. Want me to take second?”
            “No,” Keirn sighed. “I know how much you hate it. Besides, I can fall asleep easier than you can.”
            “You sure?”
            “Yes.”
            “Alright,” Kait smiled. “Try not to sleep too well.”
            It wasn’t that she was worried, there wasn’t anything out there that they really had to keep watch for. Mostly, they would have to insure the fire remained lit. Kait was just reluctant to fall asleep while her mind was still thinking about that room. All through her watch she kept glancing up at the door, half expecting a skeletal host to be standing there with eyes full of anger because the three of them had done nothing to save them.
            Through the night she kept her bow and arrows by her side. But there was nothing in that small village. There was no howling of distant wolves, buzzing of insects or neighing of nearby horses. It was strange to spend a night in an inn and have nothing but the soft snores of her companions to listen to. She entertained herself by watching the hypnotic flickering of the fires, though while they danced before her she could feel sleep slowly sweeping over her.
            It’s a terrible thing, trying to keep oneself awake when the body attempts every trick to make it rest. She recognized the first warning signs, the steady drop in her breathing and the drooping of the eyes. The cold seemed to penetrate her blanket, though it was really just her body beginning to shut down. She fought as best she could; snapping her head back every dip it took. She tried counting the number of times her chin touched her chest: 1… 2… 3…
            It was the light tapping on her shoulder that brought her crashing back to consciousness. Keirn wordlessly pointed towards his discarded bedroll and she complacently complied. It was so much easier letting the night swallow her up once she was lying down, her head resting on a thin layer of crushed feathers.
            She didn’t know what brought her out of that conscious less abyss. Her eyes seemed to be open long before she, herself, awoke. The first thing she noticed was that the fire had burned down to a dying smoulder, casting deep red shadows as the last few flames burned beneath vanishing embers. She immediately noticed the pile of firewood laying untouched near the untended flames and a part of her recognized the immediate signs of trouble.
            She sat upright, looking around for her brother. She didn’t see anything at first, but she heard something. It was a ragged, almost ravished breathing that pulled her eyes to the dark corners of the common room. There, light by the hellish reflections off the stone walls was a dark form feverishly working with some nightmarish fervour.
            “Keirn?” she whispered, but the form didn’t respond. She pulled the sheets slowly back, her mind shaking the shackles of sleep as best they could. Her eyes seemed driven by another consciousness as they pulled themselves from the form in the half-darkness to the puddles on the floor.
            She gasped.
            Blood gathered in tiny pools leading from the fire side to the corner. She reached for her weapon, her mind conjuring terrible images of carnage and cannibalism. Still heady with the draught of sleep, she shrilly called at the monster in the corner.
            “What do you want?!”
            Its face looked at her; a face framed in crimson frenzy.
            “I have to get it out,” it grunted.
            She noticed then, the sharp knife in its hands. Blood ran in small rivulets down its arm, staining the sleeve and dripping onto the floor. Back to its work it turned, hair matted by sweat and dirt hiding it from her.
            “Keirn?” she whispered.
            Something stirred near her and she took her eyes from the form just long enough to see Calos stirring. He wiped tired eyes with clenched fists before looking at the terror unfolding. Confusion gripped him as he lay motionless witnessing the scene unfold. Kait turned back to the individual, slowly peeling her blanket completely off and getting to her feet.
            “Keirn… please stop,” she pleaded. The form continued its crazed cutting, a fresh squirt of blood shooting out and striking the cold wall. Kait felt her stomach flop.
            She slowly approached, making sure to step around the small puddles on the floor, fearful of touching the scarlet drops. She didn’t want to startle him, fearful of what he may do and unsure of what she should do.
            “Keirn…”
            She reached out, finger tentatively pressing through the air. He continued to ignore her, continued his cutting and slicing. Shaking, she laid her hand on his wet shoulder; damp from perspiration. He stopped, turning to face her again. Her hand recoiled and they both froze, eyes locked between fear and madness.
            He bolted, skirting along the walls away from her.
            “Stop, please!” she called.
            He made for the door, blood splattering against the floor.
            Calos was on his feet, barring the exit and he swerved, ending near the fire. No one moved, all eyes watching each other. Minutes passed with the soft popping of the embers.
            Seemingly satisfied that no one was moving, he returned to his hand.

            Kait cried, running forward as he held the knife aloft, bringing it down with crazed certainty against the offending digit. He howled with pain as the blade cut through flesh and released a new spurt of blood against the floor. Amongst the dark drops clattered something more chitinous. With the foreign object removed, the weapon fell from his shaking hand, the iron clattering against the stone. He slumped against the stone wall with breaths coming in heavy bursts.

Continue to The Sliver Part 5 >

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The Sliver – Part 3 of 6

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< Return to The Sliver Part 2

Kait watched the ground as they walked. The cracks were somewhat interesting, reminding her of rock formations she had read about. She could tell that there had been a stream that ran through this area at an earlier time, before whatever draught had dried up the area.

            She paused at a moment, stooping over and poking the earth. The dirt gave before the soft pressure and as she lifted her finger, she noticed a white crystal mixed in with the dried earth. Curious, she tasted a small portion.
            “Are you done?” Keirn asked impatiently.
            “Yes, sorry,” Kait said, standing and hurrying to catch up to the others. It was weird, but she could have sworn the ground tasted salty.
            They continued into the desolate waste, judging their direction by the sun overhead. It seemed that northerly headed straight into the epicentre of the emptiness. Even the forest ended at the edge of the earthy waste. They could see grass swaying hypnotically in the distant, curving around in a great circle about them and vanishing out of sight.
            After an hour the three travelers crested a small ridge and saw below them what looked like a tiny little hamlet. It sat squarely in the middle of the waste, as if the dirt itself had come sweeping out of the tiny stone and brick houses.
            “Finally,” Keirn muttered, picking up his pace as he descended towards the small houses.
            “Wait, I thought we were trying to avoid villages,” Kait called.
            “Whatever, they probably have an apothecary or someone who can fix my hand,” Keirn grumbled.
            Kait cast a concerned look to Calos who only shrugged.
            “Fine, apparently some pitiful little scratch takes importance over our wellbeing,” Kait said, following dejectedly behind her brother. However, there was a growing sense of unease in Kait’s gut. That worry only worsened as they drew closer to the village.
            The houses stood quietly though there was still plenty of daylight remaining. While Kait hadn’t expected farmers to be out ploughing dirt, she had expected some sign of life. There was a distinct lack of smoke from cooking fires and chimneys. No shadows flitted from doorways at their approach. No forms huddled over the stone well. Only the houses stood, petrified sentinels keeping watch over what became increasingly clear was a ghost town. As the three got closer and closer to the buildings, Kait noticed Keirn’s realization slowly sinking in. Though he quickened his strides, his shoulders became more stooped and dejected with each step that brought him towards the empty hamlet.
            It was without welcome or fanfare that they strolled into the village. Instinctively they drew closer to each other, hands drifting down to their respective weapons. Calos said nothing, though he appeared far more alert with green eyes darting from empty windows to barren doorways. Kait reached around for the comfort of the fletched feathered arrows in her quiver as she tried to ignore the sound of the wind whispering through the empty shells of the town.
            Keirn just continued on, his right hand clutching his left as if he were concerned that it would fall off. He marched until he reached the very center where the old well stood. The wooden cross beam was gone, as was all the apparent wood in the village. No doors filled the entries, not a single shutter or window pane covered the empty eyes of the homes. It was all just cold stone. Keirn circled the well, perhaps looking for the bucket, and once he found that there was nothing, he just slumped against the stone.
            “Are… are you okay?” Kait asked.
            Keirn ignored her, closing his eyes and taking many ragged breaths. He clutched his hand tightly to his chest again, his face lined with half-suppressed pain.
            “Here, let me take another look at it,” Kait offered, holding out her hand.
            “I’m fine,” Keirn said.
            “You don’t look…”
            “I said I’m fine!”
            He stood, shoving his hand into his pocket and looking at the empty buildings. Calos emerged from one, shoulders shrugging indicating he had no idea what was going on.
            “I think we should probably look around for anything of value. Stuff we can trade or things we can use as fire wood. We may even stumble upon a few answers while we’re at it.”
            “Do you think we’ll be staying here for the night?” Kait asked.
            “Probably,” Keirn said, looking at the sky. “Safest place at the moment at any rate.”
            Keirn headed towards a nearby two story building. Calos headed off in another direction. Kait looked at the hollow windows lined with dry dirt, all cold and empty. She quickly hurried to her brother’s side.
            “Probably be faster if we split up,” Keirn said.
            “True, but if we aren’t going anywhere then we aren’t really pressed for time,” Kait replied, adjusting her pack so she could feel the straps tighten around her. Keirn shrugged and kept walking.
            They entered the structure. The first room they stepped into was quite spacious, taking up a large portion of the main floor. Judging from its location and the spacing of the rooms, Kait guessed this likely served as the village’s inn. There were no counters, tables or chairs though. Just the rough-hewn walls and the bare stone flagged floors. They poked around the main floor but aside from a thin layer of dust, found little of interest. They discovered a large hole in the ceiling that appeared to be the only access to the second floor, but there were no stairs or anything else that could be used to climb up.
            Likewise, the entrance to the cellar had no means of climbing down. There was just a large hole in the floor nestled near the back of the main room. From what little light that poured in from the empty holes in the walls, they could see that the cellars had been cleared completely out as well.
            An inspection of the kitchen proved different, however. Unlike the other rooms, this one was a complete mess. Stone slabs lay cracked and broken on the ground amid a pile of tin cups and plates. Broken glass was strewn everywhere, as if someone had come through and smashed all the glasses in the building against the floor. They found bent and twisted utensils too, but everything was either battered or broken. They sorted through the rubbish but were unable to find anything of value.
            Dejected, they left and searched the next building.
            This one was smaller, simpler one floor structure quite typical of a small country house. As with the inn, there were no windows, doors or even a roof but there was plenty of junk lying on the floor. They found twisted farming tools, clay pots and tin pans, an assortment of iron rods near the humble fire place and numerous unidentifiable objects made of simple metal or clay.
            Kait was sorting through a pile of twisted metal that may have once been a lantern when her brother began making weird sounds. She looked over towards him. He had been sorting through another pile of garbage but now stood hunched over, hands on his knees and breathing raggedly. A few coins were discarded around his feet.
            “What… what was that?” Keirn gasped. He looked over towards her, a piece of metal held loosely in her hand as she stared at him in concern. “What did you just say?”
            “I… didn’t say anything,” Kait whispered, dropping the metal. “Are you okay?”
            Keirn shook his head, raising his good hand to his forehead. She noticed it was beading with sweat again.
            “I thought… I heard… I think I need some air,” he said, turning and leaving quickly.
            Kait walked over cautiously to the pile he had been looking through. She sorted through the items with her boot but found nothing that looked remotely dangerous. She was surprised her brother just left the coins: it was very uncharacteristic of him. After she felt sure that there was nothing poisonous that could have accidentally been contacted, she left the small house.
            Keirn stood leaning against the stone wall. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing calmly again.
            “Are you sure you’re okay?” Kait asked.
            “I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s keep looking.”
            The rest of the houses yielded similar results. Not that Kait was searching as much as keeping an eye on her brother. She was getting worried over his odd behaviour and he seemed to be more preoccupied with his hand than before.
            After a few hours of fruitless searching, they returned to the well to find Calos standing there looking anxious.
            “What’s wrong?” Kait asked.
            Calos motioned for them to follow him. He led them to a large two story building made completely of brick and stone. Bars were built into the windows and the stairs were hewn bedrock. A metal door stood open, the handle having been bent and a large rock abandoned by the steps.
            Calos pointed at the rock, himself then the door before quietly leading them inside. This building was just as empty as the others, but appeared to have been built without any thought for decorations. A large iron door stood shut at the end of a short hall, but Calos lead the siblings up the narrow stairs to the second floor. There, the Fadens were greeted by a gruesome sight.
            A single skeleton lay upon the floor, a rusted and dinted sword lodged between the lower ribcage and protruding past the spine. A few other items lay within the remains, a few boot clasps, a large belt buckle, a thin metal hoop and a single heavy iron key. Calos then motioned to the rest of the room.

            What this building had been made for was beyond Kait’s understanding but what its final function was all too clear. The floor of the second story was predominantly covered in iron grating. The grating was built over the locked room on the first level and through the grill Kait could see piles of bones beneath.

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The Sliver – Part 2 of 6

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            The trio descended into the long stalks, moving between thick coarse leaves so plentiful that they kept slapping their skin as they passed. The corn grew so tall that it blocked out the horizon. Only by penetrating a few rows into the field and keeping the forest on their left was Keirn able to insure they were heading in the right direction.
            The foreboding silence was even thicker now, punctuated by the group’s footsteps as they crunched on fallen, untended corn. More than once did they happen upon evidence that someone or something had burst quickly into the field only to leave shortly afterwards. Great swathes of the crop were trampled. Whatever had done this must have done it recently as no farmhand had come by to clean up the mess.
            Eventually, the corn field banked to the right, and long grass continued on. Keirn paused, discouragement colouring his face.
            “What’s wrong?” Kait inquired.
            “Fence,” Keirn grumbled. “Who in their right mind puts a fence here?”
            It was a rather primitive contraption; thin rotted pieces of wood dug into the uneven ground with rusted twists of metal looped around to discourage animals from entering. Course, the barrier stood only along the side facing the group. Curiously it ended before the forest began where one would expect it would be needed most.
            “Should be simple enough to climb,” Kait replied, pushing a few stalks aside and surveying the scene. “Looks like hilly terrain from here on out.”
            The three stared up the large slope just beyond the fence. The wind played over the thick grass that covered its entire surface, as if it were some horribly hairy beast kept at bay by the ramshackle fence.
            “I hate climbing fences,” Keirn muttered. “Last one I climbed ripped a huge gash right through a good pair of pants.”
            “Oh, don’t be such a baby.”
            “You want to buy me a new pair of pants?”
            “Look, it’s not even that high,” Kait said. “Just climb one of these posts and you’ll be fine.”
            “I think we should walk along, maybe there’s a break further up.”
            “Or we could go back into the forest, would you prefer that?”
            “I’d prefer looking for a break…”
            A piercing howl ended the two’s bickering. They turned behind them, but could only see the silent corn. They waited, casting concerned looks towards each other.
            “You don’t think…”
            “Guard dogs?”
            “I was thinking giant mosquitoes.”
            “Look,” Keirn grumbled, “you ran just as quickly as I…”
            The howl cut through the air again only much closer this time. As a second hush fell over them, the siblings noticed the corn seeming to part in the distance as the sound of something crashing through the field grew clearer.
            There wasn’t any need for further debate. The pair turned, practically leaping upon the twisted barrier. Keirn attempted following his sister’s advice, taking enough time that his haste would allow to insure he didn’t cut himself on the sharp wire as he tumbled head over ass into the dirt and grass on the other side.
            Kait followed but caught her cloak as she was passing. She gurgled as the cloth caught against her throat, knocking her to the ground and beating the air momentarily from her lungs. Keirn hurried to her side, pulling the cloak roughly as the fabric tore.
            While the siblings freed themselves, Calos took two steps back and breathed a few calming breaths. He closed his eyes in concentration, took a final deep breath, sprinted towards the barrier and leapt with such height that he was able to spin in a single perfect revolution with arms tucked tightly to his sides as he drifted over the fence and landed gently on both feet on the other side.
            The Faden’s stared in awe.
            The rustling had stopped but there was a pitiful sound emanating from the corn. The three looked at the slope standing before them. Somehow it appeared even more steep in the few feet they had covered.
            “Only way is up now,” Keirn muttered, taking the lead. The ground was uneven and dry. He hadn’t climbed very high before he was reduced to grasping great clumps of grass to keep his balance as the soil crumbled beneath his steps.
            Kait, muttering about ruining a fine cloak, followed in Keirn’s footsteps but proceeded much slower as the bulk of her packs weighed her down. Her feet slipped even more as the numerous trinkets and junk pushed upon her.
            Keirn scaled a particularly precipitous edge and turned, holding out his hands to help the others climb up. Kait took his outstretched arms, pulling with all her might. Keirn’s knees dug into the soft earth as he strained to lift her over the lip. Sweat beaded his brow as he gritted his teeth.
            “Couldn’t you get rid of a few pots?” he hissed.
            “Are you calling me fat?!” Kait shot.
            Hands reached down beside Keirn’s and he glanced over to notice Calos assisting. Keirn hadn’t even noticed him climb up and he wondered where the lithe little man learned his athletic skills. Between the two of them, they lifted Kait over the crumbling edge, pulling her close to the hill as all three caught their breaths.
            From their vantage point, they could see over the entire field and to the farmstead in the distance. It was hard to spot from this distance, its green walls and roof almost blending in with the corn. If it weren’t for the thin stream of smoke, they might not have noticed it at all. There was still no activity on its overgrown grounds and when the three scanned the field for whatever they heard earlier, they saw only the gentle sea of swaying corn.
            “Looks like we snuck by,” Kait gasped, slipping her pack off and searching through for her waterskin. Keirn licked his dry lips before standing.
            “I’m going to climb up, see how much higher we have to go and what’s on the other side of this ridiculous hill.”
            “I’ll come, once I catch my breath,” Kait muttered.
            Keirn returned to his scaling.
            As he drew higher, he noticed the grass became less abundant. It now grew in sickly clumps. Tall, spiny weeds grew in its stead with thorns the size of finger nails sticking out from thick stems. The earth was even more dry and crumbly as he climbed so that it took him much longer than he anticipated before he reached the top.
            The hill levelled off in such a manner that it appeared like it had been artificially constructed. It was wide enough that it could have supported a large estate or small fortress. From this height, Keirn had a good glance at the surrounding area. Behind him lay the fields and to the left, the forest seemed to thin out. Stretching out into the distance, however, was not lush grassland but a great plain of dried and cracked mud. No vegetation of any kind could be seen in the blasted landscape. The ground appeared like aged and withered skin. Great parched wounds  peeled back forming small fissures within the earth. It looked like the ground hadn’t seen any water for years.
            “That’s weird,” Keirn muttered. “Hey, Kait, come see this!”
            He waited, letting the dry wind from the mud flats dry the sweat on his skin. His sister arrived, panting and gasping for air.
            “What?”
            “Isn’t that weird? What could have done that?”
            Kait shielded her eyes, taking her first look at the wasteland. Before responding, she unscrewed the lid of her waterskin, took a long sip then turned to her brother and shrugged.
            “No idea.”
            “I thought you studied trees or something.”
            “I read some books on them,” Kait replied, “I didn’t do a scholarly thesis or anything. Ask Derrek when you see him; he would more likely have such random information. Do we have the cross that?”
            “If we want to keep going north,” Keirn replied. He checked to make sure that Calos was still with them, then began to walk down the hill. This side had gently sloped down towards the cracked wasteland and had very little vegetation growing on it.
            But, though it appeared there hadn’t been any rain, Keirn stopped just before a sheer drop created from rain and wind erosion right where the hill connected with the wasteland. It wasn’t a long drop, perhaps twelve feet or so, but more than Keirn was willing to jump.
            “I guess I’ll take point,” Keirn muttered. He grasped a thick clump of dried grass, swung his legs over the edge, landed on an outcropping that immediately gave out and began to fall.
            He gave off a small yelp as he tumbled, his arms splayed and flailed for some handhold. His left hand found purchase, and he stopped his free fall as his fingers wrapped around a thick, green lump. The mossy covering broke and Keirn felt a stabbing pain shoot through his finger. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the pain until he got his balance and skidded to the bottom of the drop, falling to his knees and landing heavily in the dried dirt.
            A small cloud of dust erupted from his landing as he curled up holding his hand.
            “Are you okay?” Kait called. She and Calos scampered down after him, taking more time to make sure they didn’t drop like he had. They hurried to his side, pulling his left hand from his chest to inspect it.
            “I… think I touched a dead bird,” Keirn muttered. Kait noticed a few tufts of downy feathers stuck to the sweat and blood covering his fingers. She took a cloth from her bag and wiped his hand clean. She immediately found the wound, a small gash on his index finger with a dark thorn protruding from it.
            “Hold still,” she instructed as she pulled him into a sitting position that allowed the sun to shine on the wound. She carefully grasped the thorn with her nails and ripped it from his flesh. He howled, as if she were resetting a bone or performing surgery.
            “Boys,” she muttered. She held the thorn up as Keirn ripped his hand back and began nursing it.
            The thing was rather large for a thorn and appeared to be just the tip of the original. If she had to guess, it would have almost been the size of a person’s thumb. However, it was snapped and, after wrestling his hand back, she noticed that there was still a piece that had broken off beneath his skin.
            “Can… can you get… it out?” Keirn muttered, clearly trying to hold back tears.
            “I can try,” Kait muttered. She looked at his sorrowful face. “It may hurt a little though. We could wait until we get to town and see a temple.”
            “No!… no, I’d rather we get it out now,” Keirn replied.
            “Why the concern? It’s just a sliver.”
            “… I hate the idea of it being left there,” Keirn sheepishly replied. “I don’t want it to get infected or anything.”
            “Alright.”
            Kait reached into her pack and produced a thin needle. She wasn’t sure how clean it was, but it was sharp enough that she could cut the top layers of skin back and try to fish the rest of the sliver out.
            Keirn put on a brave face, but the moment she pressed the needle head against his skin, he howled with pain. Kait sighed, realizing that this was going to be more work than she had anticipated.
            “Can you give him some water?” she asked Calos. He nodded, pulling out his waterskin and attempted to distract Keirn with a drink.
            Kait pushed the needle quickly through the skin, holding his hand tightly as he tried to reflexively pull it back. However, with Calos there, Keirn attempted to bite back the pain. More blood welled up, and Kait tied a piece of cloth around the finger in an attempt to stem the flow. She wasn’t an expert in treating wounds, but it appeared like this small finger wound was bleeding far more than it really should.
            She dug the needle in deeper into Keirn’s finger, his hand convulsing as his body attempted to pull back from the pain while his mind steeled itself in the hopes that the endeavour would be over soon. She managed to get beneath the sliver and tried lifting it, but her fingers weren’t steady enough to get a piece of the sliver to the surface. His hand shook even more violently and blood kept pooling around the wound making holding his hand a sticky and slightly nauseating experience.
            “I can’t get it… not with this,” Kait replied. “But I’ve managed to get it closer to the surface. If we could get to a town or somewhere, I’m sure I could find something that would make this easier.”
            “Town close?” Calos asked in his peculiar, untrained speech.
            “I… I don’t know,” Keirn replied through slow deep breathes. “May… maybe north… of here… for manor…”
            “Manor?” Kait muttered, looking around but not seeing any building. Keirn just shook his head, taking the cloth Kait had tied to the base of his finger and tying it around the wound to apply constant pressure to it.
            “Nevermind, let’s go.”

            He took more of Calos’ water to wash his hand, than picked up his bag and began walking across the mud flats. Kait and Calos followed. Now that Keirn wasn’t in the mood to talk, the group fell into a growing familiar silence.

Continue to The Sliver Part 3 >

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