Chapter 1
DISCLAMER:
#1 - The following text is a work in progress. The narrative and character decisions are prone to change, and there are many errors, things I plan to remove, things I plan to add. This is not a completed works. This is a very very rough first draft.
#2 - The characters within and narrative are entirely fictional, and are not representative of any one living or deceased in reality.
#3 - I try to explore my fantasy world, but also explore different philosophical ideas or world views through my text. These are not representative of beliefs I myself hold. These are just ideas that I think are interesting to explore.
#4 - Constructive feedback is welcome, but not editorial feedback. Again, this is a rough draft, and an attempt to get my story going. Proof reading will occur at a later date.
#5 - With all that out of the way, sit back, grab your favorite beverage, and enjoy exploring the bones of my story.
#1 - The following text is a work in progress. The narrative and character decisions are prone to change, and there are many errors, things I plan to remove, things I plan to add. This is not a completed works. This is a very very rough first draft.
#2 - The characters within and narrative are entirely fictional, and are not representative of any one living or deceased in reality.
#3 - I try to explore my fantasy world, but also explore different philosophical ideas or world views through my text. These are not representative of beliefs I myself hold. These are just ideas that I think are interesting to explore.
#4 - Constructive feedback is welcome, but not editorial feedback. Again, this is a rough draft, and an attempt to get my story going. Proof reading will occur at a later date.
#5 - With all that out of the way, sit back, grab your favorite beverage, and enjoy exploring the bones of my story.
The Sunlight pulsed brighter as it crested the Peak, traveling to it's zenith with haste. Arrongar gazed out over his farmlands, seeing a few hands relaxing for their first of three breaks and chatting amiably amongst themselves. Usually, he would have joined them in their chatter. Today however, something felt different. He felt good, full of energy and purpose. It felt good to work the fields again now that harvest was upon them. Not that there was any lack for work on the farms but trying to get his sons ready to run things on their own, he'd been taking a back seat on a lot of things, and it felt good to be swinging his back breaking scythe in steady rhythmic motions once again. Well, no sense in dallying any longer. They'd be at this for weeks if they didn't get back to work. Though, he supposed, that they'd be at this for weeks regardless. He tamped out the last of his pipe and stood up from the pile of hay he was using as a seat, and grabbed the working gong.
"Breaks up! Back to work!" he cried as he struck the gong loudly rotating in place and shouting it over the fields several more times. Across the farms in the hay and all around, heads popped up like moles hills as Farmhands stood up from their break, picking up their tools and their sacks they got back to milling about the place. The swish of the scythes against hay over here, the sharp 'shick' of a shovel cutting into dirt and the popping of tearing roots as potatoes are being dug out of the ground over there. Packs being lifted, livestock being driven, carts being pulled, the farm was crawling with activity again. Arrongar grabbed his scythe and found his spot on the edge of the hay. Tying on a headband to catch his sweat he took a fresh breath of air, scanning his fields on last time before setting into the rhythm of the harvest. It was then, that he spotted his son. Zechariah was just lying there, back up against a tree by the well, hat drooped over his face. This was the third time this port. When will that boy get out of his own head? Arrongar dropped his scythe and began to march over. Everyone who passed Zechariah was giving him looks, turning their heads away ashamedly when they saw Arrongar approaching. At best they thought he was lazy, at worst...well...at worst it tarnished the Feldman name. He was going to have to have another serious talk with Zechariah about all this sleeping on the job.
Her gorgeous red hair fell around her shoulders as she crawled towards him coming from out of the granary. She was the most stunningly beautiful and alien creature he had ever laid eyes upon. From the first moment he beheld her, he knew there would be none other to challenge her beauty, for she was both real, and from a dream. Though petite in stature, there was a power in her gate, like that of a feline, a tiger. Every time she came to him, his heart stopped in both fear and awe. She terrified him.
When she reached his reclined form, she lent in to kiss him, her eyes a bright green, her pupils thinly vertical. He hated this kiss, it always heralded something bad. As she broke away from the kiss, the sky began to roll back and was filled with swirling thunder and unrestrained life. There was something there, living in the sky, behind the stars, beyond the light of the sun. It was a bright darkness. The land around him began to boil, dirt and rocks popping as though liquid, and it began to be drawn into a central point. The sky began to pour out it's blood, and where the heavens and the earth met, a swirling heart of blue lightning infused blood beat out a strange pattern and the whole earth shook with the power of it's pulse. The red haired woman began to drift towards it, beckoning him to follow. He tried to stand to follow, but was suddenly shook off balance. After bracing himself against the tree, he looked down and saw a beast under the molten earth racing towards him. He cried out in terror of the hideously horned and winged thing that plummeted up to him from beneath the earth. He tried to run after the red haired woman but only took a couple of steps before the beast ripped into his leg, tearing it clean off and tossing it across the field. He screamed in agony and...
"Woah Zech, calm down." A voice said from above. Quickly pushing back his hat from a sweat covered brow he looked up with fear into his brother's eyes. Amir stood there awkwardly pulling his foot back from a light kick to Zechariah's leg. Looking past his brother he saw several farm hands who had stopped in their tracks looking at him with confusion, pity and weariness. "You alright?" Amir asked extending his left hand. Zechariah took it with his right, tucking his burnt left hand away in unconscious shame, and hefted himself shakily to his feat.
"Ya. I'm fine." Zechariah answered.
"You sure? You haven't woken up that violently in years."
"I'm fine Amir. It was just a dream, like always."
"Well, it's not me you're going to have to convince." Amir said stepping to the side and nodding to their father who strode towards them with determination. Zechariah gave a heavy sigh.
"Why does he never understand."
"I don't know Zech." Amir said as he bent to pick up Zechariah's pack. "Though, I wouldn't say anyone really understands it."
"You at least don't look at me like I'm insane." Zech said turning his back and letting Amir strap the pack onto him.
"Not in front of you at least." Amir said with a straight face. Zecharaih paused looking over his shoulder at Amir as he tightened the last of the straps, before seeing a small gleam of mockery in his eyes.
"Gorgoth take you." Zechariah said chuckling a bit before having his smile fade as he turned to his approaching father.
"Are you quite done embarrassing everyone Zech?" Arrongar hissed as he approached his two sons.
"Father, that's not fair. You know..." Amir began to interject.
"Quiet Amir." Arrongar interrupted. "It's not a matter of fairness. It's a matter of reputation."
"I don't care about my reputation Father. I'm already an outcast." Zechariah said.
"You don't care about reputation? It's not just your reputation Zech. Do you know how difficult it will be to get trade deals and business agreements on your own if you have a reputation of instability? I've already had several conversations with merchants who have heard rumors that we 'deal with demons' because of your dreams." Arrongar explained.
"It has nothing to do with demons." Zechariah began to protest.
"That's not the point Zech. Demons or no, it's the reputation that matters."
"Okay father, I get that. But I have no control over what I do or don't dream about."
"Perhaps not, but you do have control over when you sleep. From now on, no more dozing off during breaks."
"It's not like I intend to doze off, it just happens."
"Then no more lounging."
"Father!" Zechariah began to protest but Arrongar just gave him his look that said, 'Do you really want to disagree on this point?' "Fine." Zechariah said giving up.
"Good. Now, lets get back to work. There's a lot to do." Arrongar said. He began to turn away to return to the hay, but paused for a moment, giving Zechariah a pat on the shoulder before heading off. Amir and Zech stood there for a moment, watching their father retrieve his scythe and fall into a furious rhythm swinging it in wide arcs working hard to catch up to the other workers. He might own the farms, but he works as though he were trying to win the King's favor.
"Oloric's Rest tonight?" Amir said as he began to jog backwards towards his sector. "First drinks on me."
"Only if you don't leave me sitting in a corner by myself." Zechariah said.
"If Caldna's there, I can't promise anything!" Amir said and turned away. Zechariah shook his head, hiked his pack and began to trudge off into the potato fields.
Later that evening, Arrongar left the fields early to organize the Farmhand's pay. There were no moons or stars these last few days, which meant it was impossible to work the fields during the night. There were always several eager workers who wanted to work through the nights as well, and get paid a fair bit extra, but sometimes I'athos just wouldn't allow it. As the final Fall faded and darkness enveloped the farms, Zechariah stopped and uncorked a small flask he always carried on his person. Turning to look at the Sunpeak, he nodded his thanks to the sun for it's light, and took a long swig, before heading home. The workers made their way to the front courtyard of the Feldman home where Arrongar had set up a table with a few overseers and soldiers from King Erol Ata's treasury, who were handing out the days wages. Arrongar did not own the six square miles of land which he farmed, he was technically a serf. However, over the years, Arrongar had proven himself to not only be a fantastic hard working farmer, but also a well respected leader, and so he had eventually been given the responsibility of managing the largest farming estates in the small hamlet of Hyran. However, no king would allow the distribution of his finances without trusted guards. Two silver and four copper drops (2s●,4c●) per Farmhand. Individually, it wasn't an incredible sum, but when paid to just under a hundred men? Well...it adds up. The men lined up and took their pay thanking Arrongar for the work, before heading to their homes. A few of them would stop by Oloric's Rest for a drink before returning to their families, but being in the middle of Harvest, not many would stay out late. The days were long and the work was hard.
Zechariah passed the line with Amir and entered the house. Zechariah passed by paintings that hung on the wall of family ancestors, or so his mother had claimed. He didn't really see the resemblance. He had to push a few new hanging curtains out of the hallway up the stairs, and passed tables of pottery crowding him, elaborate embroidery at the edge of each eye and thick rugs and furs which grasped at his feet. Finally, he got to his room and shut the door behind him. Empty. In stark contrast to the rest of the house, he kept his room almost entirely empty of...stuff. Why does someone need all the junk anyway? It just gets in the way, clogs the halls and assaults the senses. People have said that his rooms are unnerving and weird. He liked them. A bed for sleeping on, a desk for whittling at and a wardrobe to keep his clothes in. No need to bog oneself down with unnecessary hoarding. His footsteps echoed on the wall opposite his room as he crossed over to the desk and grabbed his sponge and washing bowl. Disrobing, he sponged himself down standing on a towel, and scrubbed away at his hands before washing his face and his armpits. Not really a bath, but baths were long and complicated. He was just going for a few drinks after all. Finishing up, he tossed his wet stone into the water to let it soak for a few minutes, as he grabbed his small box of tools and a chunk of wood. Amir would be a several minutes. He always fussed so much about looking good when going out. It's ridiculous. No one in Hyran cares. Everyone is filthy here. All the time. It's just the nature of living on farmland on the edge of a dessert. It's not like there is a lord or lady present, and the only visitors they get are hunters coming back from the mountains. He pulled his whetstone out and began sharpening his tools. Amir's lovesick. That's the only reason. He's hoping Caldna will be at the tavern and that he'll get to spend some time with her. Even if he doesn't leave to go chat with her, it'll be awkward if she is there. Not that she isn't cute, Amir certainly couldn't do better, but sitting in at a table with two lovebirds is one of the most agonizing experiences possible.
November 2nd
November 2nd
That said however, it'd be good to get a drink or two in him. It'd been quite a while since he had a good drink, and after the humiliation today, he could do with a few. There was no point in hiding from it. Everyone already knew he was 'troubled' so there was no need to hide away. He couldn't really make anything worse in people's eyes as far as he was concerned.
After he was finished sharpening his tools, he cleaned his whet stone and pocketed his chunk of wood. Grabbing a thin light cloak, to keep the chill of the night air at bay, he headed out to the tavern letting Amir know that he would save a table for them. He passed by a small table near the entrance with two drop pouches on it, his and Amir's pay for the day. Same as everyone else. Grabbing it, he lit a lantern and began walking down the road that led to the heart of Hyran. Though the Hamlet itself was rather small, being a farming community most of the homesteads were quite widely separated, with the heart of Hyran being on the banks of the Artery, where Oloric's Rest resided. The road was several miles long and though some might complain about the journey required to simply visit the tavern, Zechariah found that loved walking. It gave him this strong, undeniable sense of journey which he adored. His feet itched. They needed to be walked in, and he gave them what they wanted. His gait was long his stride was strong and he made good time devouring the road as he went. The light from the lantern glowed dimly in front of him, creating a small pocket of warmth in an otherwise cold and dark evening. With no stars or moon in the sky tonight, it was completely black, entirely impossible to navigate without a source of light. The small pocket of light walled in densely by the darkness made it all the more ominous as the darkness was like a wall that desired to close in on him at all occasions. It was somewhat unnerving, but also fantastically exciting at the same time. All too soon, he arrived at his destination. Wishing there was more road in front of him, he entered Oloric's Rest and found that it was quite busy. Packed in fact. It was usually rather well populated, being the only tavern within a days journey of Hyran, but this was unusual for an autumn's eve.
Zechariah made his way around the tavern, careful not to bump into anyone by accident, until he arrived at the bar. Having to wait several minutes while Delden worked hard to keep everyone's mugs filled, he finally had a moment to address Zechariah.
"Ah! Master Feldman. What can I get for you today? Ale or mead? Or something with a bit more kick perhaps?"
"Ale, thank-you. Delden, what's the crowd about?"
"Threll just came back from hunting with a party. Brought in quite a haul actually. Apparently, he's got quite the important bit of news to share, but refuses to do so till he's had his fill of food and drink. I'm not going to complain, a bit of mystery brings in the business you know." he said as he cleaned a mug and poured Zehcariah's drink.
"He didn't say what it was about at all?" Zechariah inquired.
"Not a peep I'm afraid. Attention loving bastard." he said with a crooked smile handing the ale to Zechariah who set a single copper drop on the bar as payment.
"I'd hoped for a quiet night." Zechariah said disparagingly holding the ale for a moment before taking a swig. "Never liked the bustle of a crowd."
"Table 12 over in the corner's free. Most folks are doubling up and sitting in each other's laps desperately awaiting the 'big news'. The slimy shadow probably just saw a rabbit with wings or some other nonsense that he's whipping up into a frenzy. Wouldn't surprise me, after all this commotion, if he gets a few bruises later."
"Probably deserves it. Thanks for the table."
"Is Amir coming tonight?" Delden asked. Zechariah looked at him quizzically until he followed his gaze and found Caldna sitting with her family and some friends.
"Ya. He's coming" Zechariah confirmed with some reluctance. Delden raised an eyebrow at his tone.
"Not a fan of her?" he prodded.
"It's not that. It's just...Well, he's the only one who doesn't look at me like I'm crazy, but when she's around, it's like I don't exist." Zechariah explained. Delden just hummed wisely, calmly eyeing the crowd and cleaning his mugs. Zechariah looked at him critically, but Delden just continued to clean.
"That's all you've got? A hmm?" Zechariah said, eyes challenging Delden.
"'Hmm' is a very meaningful sound Master Feldman, and someone who can't understand the appropriate meaning of a 'hmm' in a specific situation, perhaps does not deserve to glean it's secrets?"
"Jump the Edge." Zechariah said pushing himself off the bar and making his way to the table in the back. He could hear Delden chuckling to himself as served another customer. Zechariah sat down at the table, took out his block of wood, and began nursing his ale as he whittled away thoughtfully. His solace was interrupted however, when Caldna approached his table. He sighed inwardly as she seated himself.
"Good evening Zech." She began in greeting.
Zechariah cut off further small talk or frivolities by interjecting, "Amir is on his way." as he continued to whittle away at his block without so much as looking at her.
"I'm glad to hear it." She responded and consequently sat silently for a few awkward moments before continuing. "However, I can see that Amir is not here yet, and if I only wanted to speak to him I would have awaited his arrival." She paused expectantly, but Zechariah continued to ignore her. She added, "Thus, I have approached you in order to talk with you."
Feeling foolish for his pettiness, he put his block of wood down and looked at Caldna. "Why?" He asked. "What do you have to talk with me about."
"Many things. How you are doing, how the harvest is going, what carvings you are working on." She paused for a moment and then added, "Why you dislike me and strive to keep Amir and I apart."
Zechariah studied her for a moment, before returning to his work. "I don't dislike you in particular Caldna. I don't particularly dislike anyone."
"Then why do you give me such a cold shoulder all the time? Why do you refuse to engage in conversation?"
"I'm conversing now aren't I?" Zechariah said immediately regretting it by the flat stare that Caldna was giving him. Sighing, he put his carving down and took another drink of ale. "Fine. You want to know why I give you a cold shoulder?" She nodded. "It's because I'm afraid of you." Zechariah said.
"Afraid of me?" Calnda said in disbelief, "That's preposterous!"
"I know."
"What in the shadows would you be afraid of me for?" Caldna insisted. Zechariah studied her for a moment, leaning back in his chair.
"It's stupid." he said taking another drink. "It doesn't matter anyway."
"I'm inclined to disagree." Caldna said, insisting yet again for an explanation.
Zechariah sighed wilting even further. Insufferable woman. "You're going to take Amir from me." He finally said.
"What? That makes no sense."
"I know." Zechariah stated.
"We're not even engaged yet."
"I know."
"Even if we do, and eventually get married, we'd still be living in Hyran."
"I know."
"Amir would even continue to work on the farm!" Caldna said in a final exclamation.
"I know." was all that Zechariah could respond with.
"Would you please say something else than 'I know'?"
"I told you it was stupid." Zechariah complied in mixing up his repsonses.
"You were right about that. If you know nothing will change then why are you so against it? Against me?"
"Because things will change. Just nothing of what you mentioned."
"Like what?" Cladna insisted.
Zechariah looked her in the eyes, and said flatly, "You'll be his priority. He'll protect you first. Though it won't happen immediately, I'll be forgotten, and the only person who actually cares for me here, beyond what I can provide, will be gone."
Caldna held his eyes for some time, before looking away either ashamed. She knew it was true. Zechariah took another drink, and resumed his whittling.
"We can try..." Caldna began, but Zechariah interrupted her.
"Good intentions fall to the way before practicality. People are always full of good intentions, but when it's time to act, they look out for themselves first. They always have, they always will and so will you and Amir."
Caldna sat in dark contemplation, knowing what Zechariah said to be true. The sounds of the tavern washed over them, and the smoke from the fire was a sweet acridity to the senses, and they sat in silence.
"True though all that may be, it doesn't excuse the way you've been treating me." Caldna finally said with indignation. Zechariah whittled away, struggling with his emotions. Damn her. Why does she have to right about these things? Why can't he just be left alone?
He paused in his whittling, a chip softly clattering to the table barely audible over the din of the tavern. He didn't want to be left alone. That was the problem. He knew it, somewhere inside, but he couldn't admit it to himself. It's easier to just stuff it away, to ignore it. Don't look at it, don't listen to it. Everyone thought he was crazy anyway. The burn on his left hand, the fevered walking dreams, the constant desire to be somewhere else. By Shimara his feet itched. He took off a boot and, propping it up on his other leg, began to scratch at the sole of his foot. Caldna reached out and laid her hand upon his burn. He flinched reflexively but willed himself to not withdraw his hand.
"It'll be okay. Yes, things will change, but that doesn't mean it will necessarily change for the worse." She was going to stop but seeing Zechariah's mouth open to protest she continued, "And yes, I know I can't guarantee that, but you'll see. It will be good. Things will work out." By all the fallen Gods he wanted to leave. It was almost painful. But he smiled, and though it made him sick, he took her hand in his destroyed mess of a claw, and thanked her for her kindness. She smiled, thinking she had done some good, but Zechariah's feet just itched all the more.
In a rather loud burst, the door to the tavern was flung open and Amir strode in, that air of bravado and comfortable confidence that he always carried with him, like the cloak upon his back, swept into the room and people stood up to greet him with warm smiles and friendly handshakes. A few of his friends followed him in and the Delden already had his drinks by the time he got to the bar. Caldna gave Zechariah a final smile, before standing up making her way over to him. When she reached his side he embraced her and began chatting. Zechariah watched them, from his corner where he was always sat. Even when there was no corner at all, he would somehow find one, or make one, and sit in it. It was comfortable there. No one could watch you without you knowing. Amir beckoned Zechariah to join him at the bar, but he just wave back pretending to have misinterpreted the gesture, and remained seated. He put his boot back on and began whittling again. This one was going to turn out good. He could tell, the wood was good and his knives were sharp.
Amir made his way over, leading Caldna by hand and his posse of three following behind. He sat down and placed several drinks on the table. "It may not be your first tonight, but at least it's one I'm buying." Amir said as he pushed one across the table to Zechariah. He took it with nod and downed the last of his first drink. "Busy tonight." Amir stated amiably as the others took seats around the table, Caldna at his side. They began talking amongst themselves, largely ignoring Zechariah as he kept his eyes on his bit of wood.
"Do you think we're going to get the harvest done in time? It's quite the haul this year."
"We'd better. It would dishonour Aleen if we didn't make full use of her blessings."
"I'd be more worried about King Ata's retribution of we don't get the full harvest."
"Nah, he's got more than enough produce coming from us already. Losing a bit to an early frost wouldn't bother him much. Besides, what with everything else going on in Umar, I think little Hyran is the least of his worries."
"You got it backwards. It's because of everything else going on that we need to make sure that we need do our best.
"Well, whatever the case, we'll need to get it done either way. The more we get done, the better off we are."
"Wish the sky's would work with us. I'd love to get some evening work done. I hate wasting all this time and extra pay."
"Aye, it's a right shame." They all agreed by taking a swig of ale. The conversation continued much along the same line, talking about meaningless nonsense that bored Zechariah, allowing him to make great progress on his newest carving. It was an amulet, circular in shape with a series of geometric shapes encompassed by small swirling circles. It wasn't the best thing he'd worked on, but he certainly wasn't disappointed with it. He hadn't really begun with a plan, which was the way he usually began his work, but turning it into an amulet would make it far more practical as a piece. He'd have to tarnish it and paint it as well if he wanted it to last. The desert heat would destroy it in short order if it wasn't properly cared for. Of all the the things he didn't treasure or care for his art is one thing that he found he could never rid himself of. It was the one thing that gave him peace, if only temporarily. A few season back, he'd even managed to sell several of his items to a travelling merchant, making a small sum. It felt good to have his work appreciated, and had driven him to work far more passionately on his other projects, hoping that one day he might make use out of his passion.
"Quiet. Quiet!" Someone shouted over the din of conversation at the tavern. Quickly a hush fell over the whole room as everyone eagerly anticipated Threll's tale. He stood up by the fireplace, and brushed some black hair back behind an ear as he struck a pose, ready to regale the tavern with his story.
"This hunt, began much like every other hunt I've been has." Threll began, placing one foot upon a stool.
"Waking up with the pigs?" someone called from the middle of the crowd.
"Shut up Geb!" Threll called. The tavern laughed. Recovering his posture he resumed. "We gathered our gear, and plotted our course and began our trek towards the foot of the mountains. The hunt started with out much incident, we'd caught a few small game here and there, to keep
Novemebr 3rd
us going without wasting our rations. We made good time, but were struggling to find any tracks of anything worthy of a good hunt. No deer, no bear, no boar. Nothing. So we journeyed further, and deeper into the Spine, desperately trying to find game of any sort. It seemed hopeless. As we were about to give up, and set some small game tracks, we were suddenly overrun by game of all sorts, fleeing from agin. We spent a couple days hunting the game and caught the biggest haul yet.It was a shame we couldn't carry more. Most of the others wanted to return, but I was curious see. Why were they all fleeing? What was causing all these critters to be running in terror and, more importantly, was it it something I could bag? Well, after a bunch of arguing, I went off on my own to investigate while the other's decided to wait for me at the foot of the Spine. So off I go, ready to at least gaze upon the horror that drove all these critters away." He paused in his story for affect, and Geb took the opportunity to try and shout something, but was promptly silenced by an elbow in the ribs. Though Threll noticed, he kept on his story.
Novemebr 3rd
us going without wasting our rations. We made good time, but were struggling to find any tracks of anything worthy of a good hunt. No deer, no bear, no boar. Nothing. So we journeyed further, and deeper into the Spine, desperately trying to find game of any sort. It seemed hopeless. As we were about to give up, and set some small game tracks, we were suddenly overrun by game of all sorts, fleeing from agin. We spent a couple days hunting the game and caught the biggest haul yet.It was a shame we couldn't carry more. Most of the others wanted to return, but I was curious see. Why were they all fleeing? What was causing all these critters to be running in terror and, more importantly, was it it something I could bag? Well, after a bunch of arguing, I went off on my own to investigate while the other's decided to wait for me at the foot of the Spine. So off I go, ready to at least gaze upon the horror that drove all these critters away." He paused in his story for affect, and Geb took the opportunity to try and shout something, but was promptly silenced by an elbow in the ribs. Though Threll noticed, he kept on his story.
"The tracks I followed lead me down the Spine toward the Artery, which was strange to me, but stranger still, was when I came across some human tracks. What was a human doing all the way out here? I began to follow the trail, and unwittingly, made may way to the edge of the forest, and there, looking out upon the Artery, I saw a fleet of ships and an army on this side of the Artery." This caused a fair bit of a stir in the room. "I was about ready to bolt, when I heard sounds behind me, and came face to face with Norgraithian soldiers. Scouts to be specific, and by Krulnac, they were keen on knowing why I was there, snooping about in the woods. They thought I was spy for sure! They had crossbows on me, and tied me up and marched me straight into their watch post. I thought that was going to be the end of me. Fortunately, I managed to convince them that was just a hunter, and they graciously agreed to let me go, Almaran bless them, and they gave me a meal before sending me on my way the next morn. So, I got to asking some of the soldiers around the fire that night, what was going on, and why they were marching. I tell you, it wasn't good." This pause was not well met by the crowed as they cried out to tell them what he learned. The bastard loved it. Feigning solemnity, for he never really cared about anything other than his tall tales, he continued, "The war's begun again." Cries of dismay filled the tavern. Some people talking excitedly, others simply leaning back and looking thoughtful. Everyone knew what that meant, and it meant nothing good. "The soldiers said that the Draconian Maharrani has resumed her invasion of Sil Do Moro...and taken the Citadel." Fear and disbelief fell across the room. People exclaiming that it couldn't be possible, that this can't be happening. For once, Threll actually looked like he wasn't enjoying the attention. "Sil Do Moro has been granted sanctuary by Umar, based on their former alliance, and High King Malik has formed a military agreement with the Blood Barbarians. We're going to have a lot of soldiers coming through Hyran, on their way to Uthar city. They hadn't begun marching yet, as the warlords were still meeting up at the border, but they'll likely start sending troops soon."
He finished his tale then, and people began shouting questions and demanding answers, none of which Threll could provide though he certainly was eager to share as many theories as people would listen to. Talk at the table was hard to come by. They theorized a bit about what it would mean, how this would change their lives or if they even would have lives in a few years. Amir did admirably well in diverting the conversation to lighter topics, and though it was somewhat strained, the table resumed it's good hearted nature and several laughs were enjoyed by all, even Zechariah. After a few more drinks, and some frantically written letters for more ale shipments by Delden, the tavern began to go quiet as the patrons made their way home. Caldna bid farewell to Amir a good night, and extended the sentiment to Zechariah as well, before making her way home with her family. After Amir's friends left, he and Zechariah began their own walk home.
At first, they began their walk in relative silence, their lamps lighting the long and oppressive dark. Just a few hours earlier, it had appeared somewhat welcoming, but now, any kindness that the darkness had once showed was gone, and it was veiled in animosity now. War never bode well. There would undoubtedly be recruitment, if not a full on draft, as there had been twenty Rotations ago. Umar didn't stand a chance. Almost the entire known world had been conquered in only thirty Rotations. Without Ashuriel and his Order of Archmagi to stop them, they'd have already won by now. They would need as many lives as possible if they wanted even a glimmer of hope. He wanted to leave Hyran, Zechariah thought, but not in the military. Not only did he have no experience with fighting, but he didn't want to be stuck in that kind of obligation. He wanted to travel, not be posted on some fortress awaiting his inevitable death. However, if he didn't join up, there may not be anywhere left to travel. Not that it was exactly his problem. It's not like one man can change the course of history...save for the exceptions that is, but he wasn't one of them. He was a nobody. He was sure of it. He had to be. Just another guy, that was going to waste away in a farming hamlet, with no prospects at all. "Damn it." He muttered under his breath.
"Well?" asked Amir expectantly.
"Well what?" replied Zechariah.
"Well, are you going to sign up?" Amir clarified.
"I don't know Amir." Zechariah sighed. "I've wanted to leave Hyran for years, and I may not get another opportunity, but by Korvic I didn't want to do it in the Military."
"You should go." Amir replied after a short pause. Zechariah looked at him somewhat incredulously. "I'm serious Zech. You've never been happy here and, though you may find peace with it one day, you'll never be truly happy here either."
"Happiness isn't the only valuable thing in the world Amir. In fact, it's pretty low on the list of priorities." Zechariah said with great melancholy.
"True. Duty, honesty and faithfulness are certainly more important, among other things. That said, you're not some hot headed child biting at the bit of responsibility." He paused in his tracks and stopped Zechariah as well. He looked at his younger brother, calculating his next words. "I know you think your dreams are more than just terrors of the mind."
"Amir, stop it. Father's had apothecaries look at me." He explained again for the hundredth time. "It's just a result of my accident." He said turning to go, but Amir stopped him.
"How could it be a result of your accident? It doesn't make sense." Amir said pushing forward. "Why would you dream of a beautiful woman? And the, the...how did you describe it? Conscious blood? How does crawling into a fire explain those kinds of dreams?"
"What about the world burning away and the portals of hell opening up and consuming all life? That's fairly in line with having your left hand destroyed by fire as a child." Zechariah reasoned.
"Sure," Amir agreed, "and I'm not saying that you wouldn't have any troubled dreams due to the accident, but that doesn't explain why you have trouble staying awake, and it doesn't explain your other dreams, and it doesn't explain how consistent they are. Zech, I know you believe they have some meaning behind them."
"Amir, stop it." Zech said turning back to the road before him, but Amir kept on.
"Why don't you talk about it anymore Zech? I know they still bother you, beyond just the dreams. Why don't you consider them?" Amir insisted as he walked after Zechariah.
"Because everyone already thinks I'm crazy Amir!" Zechariah said turning on his heels. "Everyone says I'm 'demon cursed' or a bad omen. People don't even want to look at me lest I accidentally bring them bad luck! Do you have any idea what that's like? It's a miracle they haven't tried to burn me alive yet!"
"Then don't let them. Hyran is too small, to isolated. They're a bunch of superstitious farmers. Why stick around when, by your own admission, they'd never accept you anyway?" Amir insisted.
"And what? Sign up into the army and then have one of my episodes in the middle of guard duty and then get court-martialed?" Zechariah said with exasperation. Amir quieted, having no immediate reply. "No Amir. The people of Hyran may not understand it, but no one else would either, and it'd just cause more problems out there than in here."
"So you're just going to resign yourself to misery?" Amir asked.
"It's better than resigning myself to death, isn't it?" Zechariah replied, and resumed his journey home.
As they began walking again, Amir added "Ask Father about your hand."
"What? What's that supposed to mean." Zechariah asked confused.
"When you ask, you'll find out." Amir explained cryptically.
"Amir!" Zechariah called, but he would have no more explanation. They continued and finished their journey in silence. When they arrived back at the house, Zechariah couldn't find rest. His mind was a whirlwind of chaotic thought. He paced to and fro in his room, struggling to calm his emotions and organize the turmoil of his thought, but found no peace. Eventually, after hours of pacing, he fell to his bed exhausted, and entered a fitful sleep.
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Is it ok to put some suggested edits here? Chapter 1 2nd P “On last time” - one ... “His solace was interrupted... she seated himself” Amur beckoned Zechariah... just wave back ... “waved” This hunt, began ... has. ,?
Hi @Overesashoosier! Thank you for some of these suggestions. I will try to implement them soon. Please feel free to point out edit suggestions wherever you find them, as they will certainly help when I come back through to edit. However, I'm not really editing my content at the moment, just trying to get the full muddle of story in my head down. Once I've finished that, I intend to go through several edits and proof readings. I hope you're enjoying my story thus far, as rough and unrefined as it is in this stage.