Wednesday, September 1, 2004

part 6
It had not occurred to Elizabeth just how dark it could be on the road leaving Kiecombe on a cloudy night. Synthia led the way holding Elizabeth’s hand while walking along the side of the road. The blanket from Synthia’s bed tied up in a makeshift rucksack bounced against Elizabeth’s back as she had to practically jog to keep pace with Synthia’s long quick strides. She felt tired and very cold, but could only wonder how Synthia kept going minute after minute, wearing less clothes the she was, and how she was able to stay next to the road without being able to see at all.
“I’m scared Synthia. I can’t see anything,” Elizabeth said.
Synthia stopped and said, “I’m scared to. But I’m excited. I feel so good right now, good to be away from that place, and I am never going back. I should have left a long time ago. I hope you aren’t mad at me for making you a part of this. You can go back if you want to, but I have a plan, something I’ve always dreamed about. Tonight has become the first night of the rest of my life, and I have you to thank for that. I couldn’t stand being treated like her property, but I always imagined I would find a way to leave it some day. Seeing her hurt you like that made me so mad. I think something changed inside of me when I hit her on the head. I don’t feel afraid of anything anymore, and I don’t feel like crying, or sleeping or any of the other things I would do to forget how much I wanted things to be different. Things are different, so different now. I feel different, and new and happy.”
“I’m cold,” was all Elizabeth could say.
“Me to, isn’t it great. I’ve never been this cold. Always warm, sometimes to warm. I hated it when I had to sleep with some of those big sweaty lummoxes from the Guard. How I hated that, she would tell me, ‘you can’t get out of the bed until he does. It will offend them,” Synthia mocked Camilla’s voice perfectly. “And they smelled so bad, but I’ll tell you a secret. I didn’t give myself to any of them, ever. They never had me willingly. I made them fight for it. Sure maybe they thought I was playing, and it got out of hand once or twice, but never willingly, NEVER.”
As Synthia was talking Elizabeth thought she saw a pale green fire glow in the backs of her eyes. Elizabeth had learned to be comfortable with Synthia’s eyes. Synthia was the first Eysturlun Elizabeth had ever met. The eyes had no white showing, much like an animals eyes, and they shined of gold and brown in the sun, but she had never seen them in the darkness. Synthia seemed hysterical. Elizabeth hugged Synthia tightly around the waist and said, “I know Syn. I overheard sometimes. It’s okay now. You never have to do that again. I’m not mad, but I can’t go back. I couldn’t do it. I would not be able to find my way in the dark.”
Synthia calmed downed and asked, “What do you mean? Just follow the road back to town if you want to.”
“How can I follow the road? I can’t even see the road. It’s to dark,” she said.
“The road is right there. I can see it just fine. Is there something wrong with your eyes?” Synthia asked.
“You can see in the dark?” Elizabeth asked peering into Synthia’s eyes.
“Well, of course, and I can tell you if you squint like that all the time you will ruin your own eyesight. Are you telling me you can’t see with out light?” Synthia asked.
“Well, of course,” Elizabeth mocked.
“That is so funny. I always thought you had normal eyes. I didn’t know you were handicapped. It must have been hard on you,” Synthia said, and Elizabeth began to notice a trembling in Synthia’s hands.
“I have normal eyes. Eshians don’t see in the dark. Anthandrans don’t either. I don’t know about elves or dwarves. I’ve never thought to ask. Did you think everyone could see in the dark? Did Camilla tell you we all see in the dark like you? I wonder what other lies she told you,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh my HELL!” Synthia shouted. “I sometimes wondered about that. I thought some people where just acting silly, playing games with me, or something like that. No Camilla never told me the truth, but she never lied about it I guess. She never mentioned it at all.”
“Maybe she didn’t know,” Elizabeth said. “Synthia are you okay? You seemed to be shaking pretty bad.”
“I thought it was you.” Synthia said. The two of them let go of the tight grip they had on each other and Elizabeth realized she to was shaking noticeably. The temperature was dropping, and she was sure she felt a snowflake against her cheek.
“I think it is starting to snow,” Elizabeth said.
“It is. I can see it coming from the north. We could be in serious trouble. I don’t think we should go back, and Meadow Bay is at least four miles further. I know of a place where we could be safe for the night, but you have to swear to me you won’t tell anyone I took you there.”
“Sure I wont tell anyone, I swear. How far is it?” Elizabeth asked, and Synthia took her hand and started running across the road to the north.
“It is less than a mile, I think. I should be able to see the spire if we get on some higher ground. It is a temple. An old Eysturlun temple dedicated to the rising sun. It is called Iekah Samarsa. It was abandoned years ago, but I remember my mother taking me there when I was little, before my father …well a long time ago. It is on the hill side east of Crystal Lake monastery,” Synthia said.
Elizabeth stopped and pulled back on Synthia’s arm. “Iekah Samarsa is cursed. We can’t go there,’ she said.
Synthia pulled back on Elizabeth’s arm and said laughing, “No it isn’t. We told people that to keep them away. We just don’t want anybody ruining the place,” and she started running again.
Elizabeth was struggling to keep up with Synthia. “I can’t run as fast as you Syn,” she called out in between breaths.
“I’m sorry Raven,” she said and slowed to a fast walk.
“Maybe if you carry the stuff?” Elizabeth held the blanket out to Synthia. “Then I could go faster. It’s hard to keep my balance with that on my shoulder.”
“Alright, but you will have to hold on to my slip. I need one hand free myself if we are going to run, and I think we better. I'm pretty sure I can see the spire there,” she said and pointed to the northwest, not realizing Elizabeth could not see her outstretched arm at all, “We can make it in just a few minutes I’m sure.”
The air was cold, and the snow was light, but falling steadily. Synthia adjusted the pack over her shoulder, and Elizabeth tried to get a grip on Synthia’s slip, but the material was to flimsy for her to hold tightly. Synthia could see her struggling with the light fabric, and dropped the pack. With a quick motion Synthia tore her slip just below the waist, exposing her legs. She spun the material between her out stretched hands making a short length of rope. She tied the remnant around her slender waist leaving one end longer than the other. Elizabeth was startled when Synthia grabbed her wrist and tied the lose end of the fabric around her hand. “Make a fist on the knot,” Synthia said.
“Good. That feels strong. Go ahead I will keep up I promise,” Elizabeth said.
Synthia began running, swinging both arms with abandon. There was no way Elizabeth could have known she had left the blanket lying on the ground.

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Tuesday, August 17, 2004

part 5
Part 5
Sitting next to the fire, Leto told Yarrine everything that had happened to him since he had found her at the foot of the cliff, including the embarrassing slip and fall he had while fighting the goblins. That part made her smile and giggle just slightly. As he told her the little details of how he fashioned the travois and moved her to this cave he was feeling a nervousness he had never felt before. She listened quietly, and her eyes never left his. By the dim light of the fire he could see that her eyes were the color of bluebells, large and almond shaped. She was obviously feeling better. The color was returning to her cheeks, and her lips began to grow darker. He could not take his eyes off of her. He thought her face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. After he finished telling her about the long sleepless night he had watching her and checking her breathing regularly, she seemed to blush, and smile.
“I don’t think, in fact I know you won’t be able to walk for at least a week, maybe two,” he said. “I could try to take you to Canicton, but we would have to go back to Licombe to get back to the Ridgeline road, or go past Landenshire to the Heerspiad River and follow it to the north, either way it is a long journey. Do you think your uncle is looking for you?”
“I really don’t know,” she answered. “Nothing like this has ever happened to us. I can’t remember any time where something like this happened to him at all. He always told me stories about his trips abroad, and there were times when he had to fight bandits, or monsters, and sometimes people we knew died, but he never told me anything about anyone ever getting lost, or separated. With the snow falling, and it being dark he may even think I died falling over the cliff. He always said the caravans were dangerous, but nothing to be afraid of. I can only guess that he would keep going toward Canicton, but I can’t ask you to take me all the way there on a litter. If you could take me as far as Landenshire I will be all right there. I can send a message to Canicton and my uncle should be able to meet me there on the return trip. He can pay for any lodging I need, and I will ask him to reward you for your kindness, and good will.”
Leto was thrilled that she asked for his help in taking her to Landenshire, but he had to refuse any reward. This would be difficult, because he knew how Eshians could be about debts, and services. His experiences at the monastery trading with Eshian merchants had taught him to be very careful about insulting an Eshians sense of fairness. He lowered his head and for the first time while talking with her found it difficult to choose the right words. “I mean no disrespect, Yarrine, but the vows I live by will not allow me to accept a reward. I will, that is I can try, maybe to negotiate, yes that would be best, negotiate a fair fee for my services to you, even though I am on my way to Landenshire myself. I will have to go westward and south to find Middlepin Creek. There is a trail there I can follow to Landenshire. It will be easier on both of us to go that way than try to continue across country along the base of the mountain.”
“You are a priest, I guess.” Yarrine’s expression was difficult to read, and Leto tried not to imagine she was uncomfortable with the idea of him being a holy man, but it seemed only fair to tell her the truth now.
“I am not a priest, I have no position within the order where I come from. It probably would seem strange to you, but I choose to live by the vows of a monk even though I was forbidden from taking those vows.” He had told her, and he realized that he had never spoken to anyone outside of the monastery about this. He wanted to share everything with her, wanted to tell her the whole long explanation, but his heart raced with fear that she would not understand, and judge him a fool.
It was not unusual for a sister or brother from the monastery to fall in love, and leave the order. Former adherents were always welcomed back for festivals and special occasions. The order looked kindly on the union of loving couples, and blessed many marriages. He was not unaccustomed to feeling attracted to a woman, but this woman was different, more different than he could put into words. And why, he wondered. He was no fool, and yet he felt compelled to be at her side. Wanted to help her in every way he could. Wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, and wished there was some way he could know if she wanted anything from him that she was not telling him. She could have been a ruthless murderer for all he really knew about her, but right now he did not care. And that thought more than any other troubled him the most.
“Is there something wrong?” She asked, and he realized he had stopped talking and in his thinking he had been staring at her. “I don’t know why I am telling you this,” she began to say and lowered her head, and he noticed she had begun to finger the thick braid of hair she pulled from behind her head, “but I think you are very sweet to take care of me this way. I haven’t met any one like you, like a monk or anything like that. I am probably lucky to be alive after that fall, but even luckier that it was someone like you who found me. I will never forget what you have done, are doing, for me.” She suddenly stopped and tried to lean toward him with her arms outstretched. He could see she would not be able to get to him with out pain, and so he quickly shifted from a sitting position to his knees, and this allowed her to hug him around his waist. He was sure she would feel his heart pounding in his chest. Her small head pressed against him and her arms pulled at him tightly. “Thank you, Leto,” she whispered and held him for a few moments.
When she moved back away from him he immediately regretted not holding her with his own arms, but thought better of himself for not being to forward. “You are feeling better?” He asked as he repositioned himself so he was sitting comfortably.
“Yes. A lot better, I think I can travel if you want to leave soon. I am hungry though. You didn’t find my backpack did you? I had fresh cheese curds, and muffins in it,” she said.
“No,” he answered. “But we can go back to where I found you when we set out.”
“I guess it could be anywhere up the mountain side. We don’t need to waste time looking for it,” she said.
Outside of the cave the skies were heavily overcast. Leto excused himself and suggested Yarrine rest as much as she could. He told her how traveling on the travois would be stressful for her because he would have to tie her down again. He went to the opening of the cave and wondered if the weather would change soon. It was pointless to considered traveling when the threat of more rain or snow hung over the valley. He had enough food and water for both of them for at least two days, but if they were stranded in the cave any longer than that he would have to forage for edible plants and fresh water. He decided that he would be well off collecting some of the snow from the ground and saving it in the pan he carried in his pack, as a small supply of water for now. When he finished packing the pan with snow, he set it on a pile of rocks near the fire. He saw that Yarrine had already drifted into a sound sleep. He decided it would be a good time to collect more wood.
For the remainder of the day the weather did not improve. Yarrine woke every few hours and only complained slightly of the pain in her ankle. While she slept Leto applied a thin salve to the stitches on her cheek, and when the clouds finally cleared the sun was setting on the horizon. Leto helped Yarrine sit upright while she drank a cup of water from the melted snow, and they both shared slices of dried fish, and half of an apple from Leto’s pack. He told her that if the morning skies were clear of clouds he would set out as soon as the sun rose. He would try not to wake her if she were sleeping, and would be careful to tie her so that she would be as comfortable as possible.
“I never felt the ropes the first time,” she said with a smile.
“You have a thick layer of clothes, it was easy to tie you down without pinching your flesh.” As the word flesh left his lips, Yarrine’s eyebrows raised with a sly smile. Leto blushed from the top of his head to his neck, and this made Yarrine laugh out loud. He turned away from her and practically ran out of the cave, saying loudly, “we need more fire wood it might get cold tonight.”

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Monday, August 9, 2004

part 4
The small group of people gathered outside of the door to Synthia’s room began to whisper to each other as their concern about the three women inside grew. Certainly none of them was strong enough to force the door, as it was obvious the bolt had been drawn. The all talked about the shouting, and the crashing, and then the silence, wondering if someone was seriously hurt. Ralfden had sent Walter Bradsmore, another one of the regular patrons, for Corby the cook who he hoped might know of a way inside. All together there were nine people crowded at the top of the stairs waiting and wondering just what was going on.
Corby and Walter pushed past the crowd and met Ralfden at the door. Corby was not a big man but he was strong, if a bit out of shape in the middle, and he carried a long knife, and a worried look. He stroked his thinning hair with his free hand nervously while he asked, “what the devil’s going on, Ralf?”
“It sounded like there was a fight going, a lot of shouting then some crashing around. I think someone might be hurt, I heard crying definitely,” Ralfden answered.
“Well out of the way then.” Corby’s hands were hard and large, and with more force than Ralfden was capable he pounded several times on the door shouting, “Camilla, Miss ‘Dez’. Is all you all right in there? Hello?” He stopped pounding and placed his ear against the wood. “Wait,” he said, “I hear someone coming.”
A sudden silence fell over the group as the bolt was slid back, and the door slowly pulled open.
Ralfden rushed immediately to put an arm around Camilla’s waist as the woman appeared to him to be almost dead. She was pale and there was blood on her clothes. She held her hand on the top of her head, and he noticed a red soaked rag between her fingers there. He moved her back into the room and made her sit down on the bed. “Goodness, Camilla what happened,” he said.
More of the patrons crowded in the room, even though Corby was trying to hold them back, his efforts hampered by his own curiosity. Camilla leaned heavily on Ralfden, and he was hard pressed to hold her upright on the bed. She tried to talk. It was obvious the effort caused her pain. Her voice came out in a broken whisper, “that bitch hit me with something.”
“Synthia hit you?” Ralfden asked in surprise.
There were a few gasps in the crowd, enough to cause Camilla to raise her head. Corby saw that her left eye was red, filled with blood. He had seen that before in patrons after a brawl. She turned her head, and Ralfden could tell she was thinking about something very intently. She lowered her head and said, “yes. No, no it was the other one. It was Raven. I was talking to Synthia, and Raven started shouting at me, I,” and then she paused and her voice took on a renewed strength. “I tried to get Raven to leave us, leave Synthia alone. She was making the poor girl cry. I turned around to comfort Synthia, and then something broke over my head. I heard it, but only felt it a little, my body seemed to stiffen up. I couldn’t move, then I blacked out. She must have hit me once or maybe twice more. I think she kidnapped Synthia.”
It all seemed incredible to Ralfden, but before he could ask for more details Corby was speaking up to the crowd. “I never liked that girl, Bascondes,” and he spit on the floor, “nothing but trouble.”
“We should be able to catch her. She could not have gotten very far,” said Walter.
Ralfden made Camilla lie down, and then asked some of the patrons to clean up the room, and get some water to clean her wound. He spoke slowly, without force, and a few of the onlookers in the back moved away. He leaned into Walters’s side and took his arm forcefully. He whispered, “do you really thing Raven could have done this?”
Walter turned to look straight into Ralfden’s eyes. The smell of wine was heavy on Walter’s breath as he said without restraint. “You heard Corby. Bascondes. Is there any doubt? Probably been planning this for months the little gypsy.”
“But she said Synthia at first,” Ralfden told him, but Walter pulled away.
Ralfden had thought Raven was a secretive young woman but he could not bring himself to believe she was capable of this kind of violence. The room was emptying as an older man was sweeping up pieces of the shattered jug, and a woman he didn’t recognize was cleaning the top of Camilla’s head with a large wet rag. Looking at Camilla lying in the bed reinforced his feelings. Raven was not tall enough to hit Camilla on the top oh her head. Raven was not four and one half feet tall if she was a foot, and Camilla was taller than most men, probably six feet if maybe a little under. He decided to ask Camilla again what happened.
He stood beside the woman cleaning Camilla’s hair of dried blood. He noticed something peculiar about the woman. She was very fair, and her arms were strong with knotted muscles more likely to be seen on a man. She wore red bracelets, thick leather boots, expensive looking wool pants and a shirt that was of shimmering water-like material embroidered with black lines in the pattern of dead trees. Her hair was red-gold and cut short at her shoulders, and she wore clips to pull her bangs away from her face. The peculiar thing however, was a mark on the back of each hand. He didn’t think it was a tattoo, he had heard of those. It looked like thick paint and the shape was of large letter ‘Z’ with a sword, or stick through the middle. The woman gave him an uncomfortable feeling.
“Camilla, can you tell me again how this happened?” He asked stroking Camilla’s cheek with the back of his hand, and noticing how soft her cheek was.
“She can’t hear you now,” the strange woman said. Her accent was strange to him.
He began to choke up, but the stranger smiled at him and said, “don’t worry, she is fine. I gave her a liquid that eases pain and makes you sleep for only a few hours.”
“Why did you do that?” He asked unable to hide the nervousness in his voice.
“She needed it. I had some with me. I get terrible headaches sometimes. A doctor in Vologna gave me a recipe to make the liquid myself. It is harmless, if a little addictive.” She spoke quickly and it was hard for him to catch everything she said.
“You look troubled. Let me introduce myself. I am Henrietta Andestropov, Second Sergeant of the Sovereign Sisterhood, keeper of the lords law, and defender of the wronged.”
As she introduced herself she stood and bowed, folding her arms across her stomach. Absolutely nothing she said made any sense to him. She was taller than he was, not Eshian obviously. He had heard many things at the bank, many names of people and places, and yet nothing she said was familiar. “It is a pleasure to met you Mrs. err Miss? Andestropov.”
“It is Miss, or better Sergeant Andestropov. I can tell you have some reservations about me. Don’t be alarmed. I know the title is unfamiliar to people in this area. I am an agent of the Church at Ses-Theth. You have heard of that I hope?”
“Yes, yes I have, the largest religious presence in Anthandra, across the sea. I didn’t know they had a military arm. Oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean to imply you were a soldier, that was rude of me to assume.” He noticed a twinge in her check that made him feel as if he had just committed a great sin against her faith.
“I am a soldier, but…well it is very complex right know. I will explain if you like, but it would take a long time, and if you are not a follower of Xetas Lord of the Waters it may take a very long time,” she said with a smile.
“My orders, currently, are to travel to the town of Bellwater and train a local citizen of good standing to become the Shier-reef for Lord Torpin. Lord Torpin has a special relationship with my order, and with the church. We are honored to be asked to support him in the development of his township here in this country. As a Second Sergeant of the order I cannot willingly relinquish my task in order to investigate this crime against this woman. Only a First Sergeant may make that determination on her own, but should a witness request an investigation than I would be legally bound by the tenets of my order to bring the person responsible for this crime to justice.”
As she spoke she looked around the room. It didn’t offend him that she appeared to treat him below her station. He was used to that kind of treatment from rich merchants. Something about the way she was looking so intently at every detail of the room reassured him that she was a professional of the highest order. “I was downstairs when the argument started. I followed them up the stairs when I heard a thump on the floor after the door closed. I heard a lot of screaming and the crash that must have been Camilla getting hit on the head, but I didn’t actually see anything. I don’t know that that would make me a witness,” he said trying to be helpful.
“Of course it does. You have a responsibility to report this to your local Shier-reef. And you can request an investigation if you wish,” she now looked at him with intensity.
“We don’t have a Sheriff, if that’s what you mean. The town relies on soldiers from Fort Millwillow to keep the peace,” he sensed right away her discomfort at hearing this news, “but I guess it would be a good thing to ask you to investigate, for Camilla’s sake. We all want to know how things got this bad between the three of them.”
“It is my privilege to be of service to you sir,” she said with another bow, “I will complete this investigation promptly and inform the authorities at Millwillow of my dispensation.” She walked briskly out of the room, and Ralfden was left feeling uneasy about the whole thing.
Ralfden sat by Camilla’s side for the rest of the night. It was the first time he had been alone with her, even after sixteen years of being a customer of her inn. He had never though he was falling for her, romantically, but he always respected her business sense and success. She was probably his age, and he remembered how years ago she was even heavier than she was now. She had matured, as had he. She was certainly nothing to look at, not comparable in the least to Synthia in face or form. But women like Synthia always seemed empty headed anyway. Now, Raven, he liked her so much. She was pretty, and smart, and a little wild to. He came here as much to be around her, as he did to be around Camilla. The stranger, Henrietta, was honest about the drug she had given to Camilla, and Camilla wakened in only a few hours as she had promised.
Camilla’s eye looked bad to him but she smiled when she was able to see Ralfden with the other eye. “Ralf, what’s going on? How long have I been sleeping?” She asked.
“Only a few hours, Camilla. Do you feel better? The sergeant gave you a drug, she said it would make you feel better.”
“Sergeant!” She said in a startle. “What sergeant?”
“A church woman. Her name was Henrietta Ander-something. She was very helpful,” he said while helping Camilla to sit up.
“You said sergeant?” Camilla asked again. “What kind of sergeant? She was Anthandran? Tell me?” Camilla seemed agitated, and Ralfden wondered if the drug was causing the reaction. Then he remembered that Camilla had said she to was from Anthandra, or Trith one of those places across the sea.
“She said she was an official of the church, that church from Anthandra. Said she was a Second Sergeant, what ever that means,” he said.
Camilla rose to her feet in a burst saying repeatedly, “oh lord, oh lord, oh lord. What did you tell her? I didn’t see her in the inn. Was she there when it happened? Did you ask her to do anything? Tell me she didn’t offer to help?”
“Slow down Camilla.” Ralfden followed her around the room as she paced and wrung her hands. “That’s a lot of questions. I don’t see what you’re upset about. She seemed a real honest and good woman, said she would investigate this thing that happened. I think it is a good thing to. I would hate it if that Walter got the crowd all fired up into some kind of lynch mob. That woman will take good care of things.”
Camilla dropped onto the bed her eyes glazing over. When she finally spoke her voice sounded like it was coming from the grave. “There wont be a need for a lynch mob. The Sisterhood only knows one kind of justice. You just sentenced Raven to death.”


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Wednesday, July 21, 2004

Part Three-
She opened her eyes. She was in some kind of cave. There was fire, a small fire, just a few inches from her. It was warm. There was a large man sitting cross-legged on the other side of the fire. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, though she thought that was a strange position to be in if you wanted to sleep. She tried to roll over, off of her left side, and found she couldn’t. Something was holding her in place, and there was pain. She wasn’t sure what part of her hurt the most. There was a stinging on the right side of her face, her shoulders and back were just a little less sore than that, but yes definitely her right ankle hurt the most. The man sitting across from her must have not been sleeping after all, because he was shifting in place and smiling at her. When he finally spoke his voice was very different than she had imagined it would be. She had been expecting a powerful and maybe deep voice to come from such a large man, but instead his voice was soft and he spoke very slowly as if he was not sure of himself.
“Can I get you something, are you comfortable?” He said.
“Who are you, and why can’t I move?” She said, and felt dry and stiff in her throat.
“I am Leto Fallowel. You cannot move because I was concerned about the injury to your back. I tied you to a travois in order to move you safely, out of the storms. If you think you can move with out pain I can remove the bindings. I hope you will tell me if there is any discomfort. I have a thorough education in the healing arts, and I shall try to do everything I can to ease your pain, and speed your recovery.”
“Yeah, well, yes that would be nice. Please untie me, I think I can sit up on my own.” She was unsure of why she felt so at ease around this strange man. His chest was huge, his face broad, but smooth and very handsome. He had no hair, but did not appear to be very old. His voice was so calm and pleasant that she was instantly at ease and yet something about him, something she couldn’t pick out, troubled her. He rose from his sitting position with a gracefulness that surprised her, and when he was standing erect she was even more troubled by his size. “You’re very tall. You’re from Anthandra?” she asked as he moved around behind her and began untying the ropes that held her to the litter.
“No, I am not. I am from the Chawillik Glade monastery. It is south east of Crystal Lake in the Chawillik forest. I am told that I am tall for my age, but not abnormally so. I am six feet two inches tall. You are Eshian?”
“ I am part Eshian. My mother is Drasbian. My Father is Eshian. My name is Yarrine Gulhame. Thank you for taking care of me.” She noticed he had stopped moving his hands and wondered if she had said something wrong. She couldn’t see him, and could barely hear his breathing. “I still can’t move. You all right back there?”
“Yarrine is a beautiful name. It means ‘wild flowers’ in the old language of the islanders. Yes, I’m sorry this knot is a little tight. I have never met a Drasbian before, are they much like the Eshians?”
She felt the sudden freedom of movement of her body even though she never felt exactly where the rope was holding her down. “No, well actually Drasbians are very much like Eysturluns only their skin is not green and they are more gregarious.”
He moved around in front of her as he helped her to sit up. He had a puzzled look on his face. He said, “I do not know what it means, gregarious. I have met some Eysturluns. We trade with a village of Eysturluns that live north of us, at the monastery. They are a very pleasant people. What is it like to not be gregarious?”
“I’m sorry, it means friendly.” She said trying to smile, but found that moving her cheek caused a pulling and a strange sensation on her face.
He still wore a puzzled look, and said, “Friendly? The Eysturluns are very friendly. I would not say they are unfriendly.”
“I mean around strangers, or in groups outside of there own kind. That kind of friendliness.”
“Oh, yes I see what you are getting at. The Eysturluns are friendly once you get them to accept you. That is very true. You can feel the stitches in you cheek. I can tell by the pain in your eyes when you smiled. I had to close a wound, a cut, very long near your ear and down onto your cheek. It bled some but I think it will heal very well. How did this happen to you?” He looked at her with a warm and honest compassion in his eyes, and she felt very much relived to be in his company in this strange land.

“I must have fallen from my horse,” she began to tell him and as she did she shifted her legs to try and get closer to the fire when there was an overwhelming feeling of pain in her right foot. She yelled out, and grabbed her ankle protectively.
Leto pushed her gently back onto her back and then placing one hand under her calf elevated the leg and tried to pry her own hands away with his other hand. “Let go,” he was saying softly, “I will try to take off your boot. You may have a broken bone.”
She trusted him. She didn’t know why, but then she thought he was kind of like her uncle. He had that same knowing determination about him. The kind of self-confidence that isn’t hindered by arrogance, but shows in a real craftsman, or mercenary. “It’s hurts so bad,” she said through tears she couldn’t hold back, “but I don’t think it’s broken. I can wiggle my toes and it doesn’t hurt any more, or less. My Uncle, I was with him when this happened, he taught me that broken bones make the limbs hurt more when you try to move them. Oh no,” and she suddenly remembered, “I didn’t fall. Something jumped at us. Jumped out of the trees.” Leto was working to loosen the buckles on her boot. She felt some relief, as each of the small clasps was un-clipped. She wanted to go on telling him what she remembered before the pain got any worse, but as he loosed the last clasp he slid his hand down into the back of the boot and worked it off of her foot in a quick pushing motion. The sudden release of all pressure on her ankle made her gasp for breath, pulling in deep gulps of air as a powerful throbbing began in her ankle and spread down to her toes. In the light of the small fire she could see her right ankle and most of her foot had turned a deep purple and was swollen to two times its normal size.
Leto was moving his hands all over her ankle and the top of her toes. She could barely make out the intense look on his face as he bent close to the injured area with his eyes seemingly focused on each nuance in the discoloration. Her foot, even though she could tell was massively swollen looked tiny in his hands. He turned his head and smiled at her. “Not broken, only sprained,” he said.
“Sprained?” She asked. “You mean strained.”
“No, worse than a strain, it has been pulled out of position. I suspect there is serious damage to the ligaments that connect your foot to the calf. I can’t be sure, I am trained, but I’ll be completely honest with you, I only have very little practical experience with serious injuries. I want you to stay on your back just for a little while, and keep the foot elevated. Use your hands, if you have to, but hold your leg at the calf muscle. Try not to touch, or move your ankle. I need to get something out of my pack.”
She wasn’t sure about everything he was saying, but she believed him, and held her leg up high while he moved across the cave to a large leather backpack sitting in the shadows. She wondered what had happened to her pack, and that thought made even more of the events that caused her to fall come back to her. As Leto was carefully taking things out of his backpack she started telling him what had happened. “It was early on, wait let me think, Thursday, and there was snow falling. My uncle was at the lead, and I was at the rear. There were four wagons, and three of us on horses.”
“Horses, really? Riding horses?” Leto’s sudden reaction startled her.
“Yes, ridding horses, but the wagons were pulled by oxen. My uncle, my cousin and I were hired in Drasbia to protect a shipment of cloth from Redrock to Canicton. Well not really hired. The cloth belongs to my grandfather. My Uncle is a veteran soldier from the war of independence. He works as guard now for many Drasbian merchants, but this time it was for family. We left Nulaundum on Saturday.” She was feeling better now talking, and holding her ankle up. Leto came back to her with what looked like a small bolt of cloth in his hands. He knelt down at her feet, facing her this time.
“Go on.” He said. “I am going to wrap this cloth around your ankle. It will hold your foot in place and put the right amount of pressure on it. I think I should put some snow on it as well, but I can do that latter. I want to hear the rest of your story.”
“We camped Wednesday night north east of Licombe. It was cloudy and Harry, my uncle, thought we should get an early start the next day. We had a guide with us, even though my uncle and I have been on this road twice before. It was very dark, still, when we set out and our guide, her name was Lori, stayed at the back of the wagons just ahead of me. I have only been riding with my uncle on these jobs for a few months, but I am good on a horse, and I can usually get around in tight places better than he can. Lori had been telling me how she thought the oxen where catching a bad smell from somewhere, because we were having a lot of trouble keeping them moving. I thought it was just because of the steepness of the road.”
“You were up on the mountain then?” Leto asked and gestured toward the north with his eyes. “The Ridgeline road, that’s almost a quarter mile up from here.”
“What?” She asked. “Did you say a quarter mile?”
“Yes. It is the best road out of Licombe going east. I would have taken it myself, but that I had to stop in Sadderham village, and so when I left yesterday morning I decided to walk cross country instead to Landenshire. Did you fall?”
“Like I was saying, I thought the oxen were having trouble with the steep road, and then it started to snow. The sun was not up yet, but the temperature must have come up a little. I remember taking my hat off because I was starting to sweat. I guess I overdressed. I had stopped my pony so I could tie my hat to the back of the saddle. I didn’t dismount, but I was turned. I heard Lori yell out for me to move, but it was too late. This thing, it had to be a large bear. I couldn’t tell. I never got a good look at it. It jumped onto the pony and me from the left. It must have come out of the trees. We were knocked down for just a moment but I got the pony back on its feet right away. Lori was yelling for my uncle to come to the rear with the lantern. I couldn’t control Corky, my pony. He kept rearing up and trying to back up when he must have gotten to close to the edge of the road. I felt his backside fall away from me and we tumbled down to the right. I can remember hitting the ground hard on my right side. I think Corky fell on top of me. That was the last thing I remember. I must have fallen down the entire cliff.”
“There is still a lot of snow in the shadows and around the trees. You could have slid most of the way. You were very fortunate not to hit your head on a rock or tree, and only suffered some cuts and bruises.” Leto finished wrapping her ankle, and it did fell better, what ever he had done. “Still it is a long way to fall. You said it was dark when you fell?” He asked.
“Yes, at least two hours before sun up. My uncle has a pocket watch. It was gift from his battalion commander in the war, imported from Forttrugen. He does every thing according to that watch. I am sure he said it was four o’clock when we left, and this all happened when we had been on the road only a few minutes. Why?”
“I left Sadderham after I celebrated a morning prayer with the Huargud village elder. He is very interested in the way of my order. I had been walking for more than an hour, probably two or more, I can’t keep track of time very well. I would really enjoy seeing you uncles’ watch. I have only seen one other. We have three very nice clocks at the monastery, but when I found you it was very late in the morning, and you had snow covering you. I don’t think you had moved from that spot for some time, and it was Thursday morning. I only found you by accident, and at the time I did, it appeared as though some goblins had found you as well.”


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Monday, July 12, 2004

Part two-

Synthia was crying again, and this time Elizabeth was going to do something about it. Nothing in Elizabeth’s life had ever had the effect on her that the sound of Synthia crying had. She had spent hours in the filthiest ships hold you could imagine, with smells so powerful her eyes burned. She had lived on the streets of Losvinshire, where there were men so cruel and heartless, that even the bravest of souls would be cautious. She had broken a man’s heart, left him in that cursed town, left a part of herself to escape the life draining misery of a slow meaningless death in that place. All that, a short span of time, a long nightmare of bad choices, and still it could not compare to the pain in Synthia’s tears.
The beauty of an Eysturlun is usually the thing of ballads, or bawdy tales. The few that do live in Eshia stay together in sheltered communities, trying to protect the last bits and pieces of a dying culture. Synthia Almaoria DesDuryisus was fairer, and gentler of spirit than any being that Elizabeth had ever known. The truth, Synthia claimed, was that she was not an Eysturlun. Synthia claimed to be a Drasbian, there were not many who could prove her wrong, and reveal her lie. There were darker secrets. Elizabeth would never know them all. Lying was not easy for Synthia, her green skin and golden eyes betrayed her. If she was not an Eysturlun as she claimed: then her blood was tainted by an ancestor who must have been, was the common belief.
Synthia’s beauty was legendary, at least as legendary as a beauty can be in a small backward farming village. Anywhere else she would be happy, Elizabeth knew, anywhere else. This town, this place called Kiecomb, was a hell for Synthia. When Elizabeth came to this village two years ago, she had hoped to settle down, forget the past. She renamed herself Raven Hessington. The farmers and merchants accepted the name, accepted her. She was put at ease that there were others like her here. Other Eshians that were not quiet acceptable to the general public, Bascondes, they were called by mainlanders, even though the only difference between those from the islands and those of the mainland might be a difference in hair color or texture, maybe the tint of the skin or eyes. The Basconds, oh yes there was a difference in the way it sounded when spoken, were different culturally. The City States of Bascond once ruled all the islands as well as the towns and frontier villages of the mainland. Then after years of oppression the folks of the mainland rose up in revolution. With the aid of a government far across the western sea, the Queen of Eshia defeated the armies of Bascond, and declared the whole of the mainland from the western coast, to the Black River in the east and all the way to the Emalia mountains, a free and sovereign nation. This confused a few in the beginning, hadn’t they all been Eshians after all. No, there had always been difficulties. The Basconds considered their ways superior, their tastes more expressive, their behavior more developed, where as the mainlanders felt those from the islands were extravagantly priggish, rude and loud and never to be trusted, for all true Eshians knew that the Bascondes were nothing more than gypsies and thugs. So it was that here in a small village where there wasn’t a majority of either, or any others for that matter that Raven Hessington wanted to call home. It was also here that another young girl with a troubled past became the property of a tavern keeper, and Synthia’s fear of the fat cruel woman that owned that tavern was the cause of her tears.
Camilla was the cause of Synthias pain, and her shame, and Elizabeth was determined that tonight would be the last night that Camilla sold Synthia’s beauty to a warless soldier, or bored farmer. Tonight Synthia would dance for the last time for the tavern or its owner. Elizabeth had run before, run for perhaps all the wrong reasons, but now she would run again, and take Synthia with her, this time would be different.
The evening began somewhat quieter than she expected. Elizabeth moved around the main room of the inn making small talk with the few regulars that had come in, serving them heavy wooden mugs of beer and wine. The inn served a popular stew on Thursdays, and Elizabeth wondered why so few had arrived. “And how is your evening Mr. Hartley?” She asked one of her favorite customers, who had taken his usual place near the fire pit in the center of the room.
“Oh very well, very well thank you, and yourself little Raven?” he answered.
“Best as ever.” She said with a big smile. She had always liked Ralfden Hartley. He was a slight man who made a good living managing money for the local Banker. He had a sharp wit and a pleasant disposition and was always helpful with advice on money matters. “Anything to help a young girl make a few Lar in the works down at the Bank?” She asked as she removed a pair of empty mugs from the table next to him.
He smiled and with a little gesture of his hand waved at her to move a little closer to him. She had not really been serious with her question, but did not want to pass up on any real news.
“Mr. Waxwood has been talking with a Volognan merchant about setting up a venture capital investment. Seems this fellow will be hiring a crew to sail around Midhaven heading for the shores of Juiland. I put 100 Lar of mine own into it, I highly recommend the same, but only to my good friends, and keep it hush-hush Mr. Waxwood, he’s kind of funny these days, a little cautious about strangers and their foreign money, but I am sure he’ll do you a good bit of return seeing as he likes Camilla’s place more and more these days.”
She tried to pay attention to what Hartley was telling her, but at that very moment Synthia was coming down the stairs at the back of the inn. Suddenly Elizabeth was filled with fear. It was easy for Elizabeth to talk tough in her own mind, but now there she was dressed up in layers of cotton and silk, her eyes and nails painted and the blank sadness of her expression partially covered by the long golden hair falling across her brow. Camilla must have found Synthia crying and forced her to put on the clothes and make-up. Thinking about how much larger Camilla was than both of them made Elizabeth’s heart race, what was she thinking after all. That woman was a monster, in more ways than one. How could she think of standing up to her? Let alone taking something she considered her property away from her. Elizabeth took a deep breath, smiled and said a warm, “good night to you Mr. Hartley” while clearing his table of plates, and walked quickly to where she could catch Synthia at the bottom of the stairs.
“I though you weren’t coming down tonight?” She asked, but to her surprise Synthia pushed past her with out looking at her at all. “Hey, is everything alright?” This time Elizabeth punctuated her question by taking hold of Synthia’s hand and squeezing tightly. Synthia stopped but did not turn to face Elizabeth.
Her voice came out broken and faint, “I don’t want her to hit me, she said she would beat me if I didn’t go downstairs tonight. She said I owed it to her. She said I was not grateful enough.”
“You don’t owe that bitch anything. You know it is a bad time to do this. It’s your time dam it! She has to let you rest for a few days at least. Just go back up stairs I mean it.”
“Raven!” Camilla’s voice called from the top of the stairs. “Take your hand off of Synthia this minute. Her nails are still wet.” The coldness in her voice made Elizabeth’s heart pound even faster.
Elizabeth had no idea she would be this frightened, but she forced herself to pull Synthia by the hand as she walked back up the stairs. “Synthia is going to go back to bed. She isn’t feeling well.”
The stairs groaned loudly under the weight of Camilla’s foot as the large woman took one step down and folded her arms across her chest. Elizabeth knew the few patrons in the inn had stopped everything they were doing and were watching the three women on the stairs. “I am not going to have you tell me what will or will not happen in my place. Get your things and get out, or shut up and do what I told you to do. Don’t think I wont throw you out if I have to,” Camilla said growling the words through clenched teeth.”
Camilla would not start brawling right in front of the locals. Elizabeth knew this. She had seen the big woman back down before when customers were upset. Elizabeth squeezed past Camilla pulling Synthia all the while, who was now openly sobbing but making no effort to resist. She walked down the short hall and into Synthia’s room saying nothing else, afraid to look back and see that Camilla was right behind her. When Elizabeth had pulled Synthia through the door she quickly tried to shut it, but was knocked back by Camilla forcing the door open. Camilla slammed the door shut behind her and backhanded Elizabeth so hard the small girl was lifted off her feet and thrown against the bed near the opposite wall of the room. Synthia fell to her knees and buried her head in her folded arms pressed hard against her ears. Elizabeth wasn’t moving, and Camilla’s rage exploded in a torrent of curses and accusations. The big woman took a small step toward Elizabeth just as she rolled onto her hands and knees, shaking violently and gasping for breath. With both hands Camilla grabbed at Elizabeth’s long black hair and yanked the girl from the floor. Holding her almost a foot off the floor Camilla shook Elizabeth violently, screaming obscenities. Elizabeth tried flailing at the big woman, but could tell the blows from her small fists fell hopelessly on the muscled arms of her tormenter. Then there was a loud cracking sound followed by another with shattering effects as Elizabeth was peppered with shards of pottery. Camilla’s face went to a deathlike slack. Her grip on Elizabeth did not release as she crumbled to the floor. Elizabeth struggled violently to free herself from Camilla’s hands. The room seemed very small, and the ringing in her ears began to be drowned out by hysterical crying coming from Synthia who stood holding the shattered remains of a water pitcher in her hands. For a few seconds Elizabeth looked up from the floor into Synthia’s eyes. Those eyes were burning with intensity. Through tears and redness the fire in those gold eyes comforted Elizabeth. She pulled herself up by grabbing at Synthia’s fancy gown, and the two held each other tightly until their shaking stopped.
The sound of cautious footsteps on the stairs reminded them that something terrible had just happened. Never saying a word to each other the two of them rummaged through the chest of drawers and closet of Synthia’s room stuffing everything they could grab into a pillowcase. Elizabeth bolted the door. She would have to leave all of her own things behind, she knew. They would go out the window, and around to the north side of the building, down the columns of the back porch and out of town. Synthia was standing unusually quite and still. She had a long knife in her left hand. Elizabeth had no idea where she had gotten it, but what she was about to do seemed obvious. With her right hand Synthia was pulling down on the front of the dress she wore as she moved the point of the blade close to her breast. Elizabeth throat tightened and she found she couldn’t scream out the “NO!” that filled her every being. With a purposeful downward slash Synthia cut the dress cleanly from her body, and tossed the remains on the floor near Camilla’s lifeless form. Elizabeth was in to great of surprise to register just what had happened, but Synthia wrapped the blanket from her bed around herself twice, and tied the ends together at her waist just as a soft knocking was heard on the door.
“Everything all right in there Miss?” came a strange voice from the other side of the door.
Elizabeth smiled at Synthia and reached for her hand as she had done at the bottom of the stairs. Synthia reached out strongly to meet her hand and held it tightly as the two climbed out into the night air.

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Thursday, July 8, 2004

While it was true he had lived a sheltered life, it was not his nature to be troubled by unusual things. Leto was contemplative and not easily startled. A girl, probably a soldier or bandit, lying unconscious on the ground in front of him, though unusual, was no cause for alarm. She looked to be around fifteen or maybe twenty years old. She was pretty, with dark hair matted against her forehead, as if she had been wearing a hat. There was a long cut, not deep, on her cheek close to her ear that had probably bled badly for a few moments. The blood had dried on her face. She was dressed warmly, as he was, but in a style he did not know. The light snow that had been falling since the early morning had stopped, and she was covered only here and there with a powdery blanket.
When he realized that he had been standing there looking at this girl for more time than he should have, and was surprised to find himself going over the lessons he had learned from Brother William on giving aid to the wounded in his mind, it was too late to approach her, the goblins had come.
The foul little creatures were armed with the long black spears that were said to be made from the strongest wood. There were three of them, and they came at Leto slowly from the right side, just down the hill from the fallen girl. Leto could not tell if they had seen the girl on the ground, or maybe, he wondered, she was there because of them. He put out of his mind the troubling questions and moved deliberately toward the girl. At her side, on a loop of strong hide, was a mace. It was a small one, but the head looked of good iron, and he needed to defend himself. For a large man he moved quickly, and the goblins were surprised. They rushed on towards him, perhaps thinking he was trying to run away. Leto threw himself to the ground and pulled the mace from her belt. He had half expected it to not yield easily, but it did, and he was on his feet swiftly. He turned as the first of the goblins was bearing down on him.
The goblin had to run just slightly uphill, and this was his undoing. The spear was held too high and missed Leto, going above his left shoulder. Leto had trained against the spear. He lowered his body and swung down hard aiming for the haft just in front of the goblins grip. The blow was supposed to force the opponent to lose his weapon, but instead the shaft splintered. The leading edge of the spear was sent flying off to land out of sight. Still clutching at the broken spear, the goblin stumbled into a head first fall. The sudden stumbling of the first goblin caused the others to stop their charge. From the look on their faces, a look of both fear and confusion, Leto could guess that they were thinking he had incapacitated the fallen goblin. Without giving time for the first one to recover, or the others to see their error, Leto lunged. Keeping his steps close together he swung the mace in a wide arc again aiming for the spears. What happened next could only be described as a pratfall. With wide eyes the goblins dropped their weapons and scrambled back down the hillside, giving no backward glance, running away as fast as they were able. The momentum of Leto’s swing carried him in a full circle. He slipped on the new fallen snow and landed flat on his back. It would not have been painful, but for his overstuffed pack and a pot handle that found its way to a most uncomfortable place.
Leto rolled over and cursed loudly. He raised himself onto his knees, still holding the mace, and tried with his free hand to loosen the pack straps. He caught a sudden movement out of his eye to his left, turned his head and watched the third goblin running down the hill quickly catching up to the others. He watched them grow smaller and smaller until they could no longer be seen among the small trees near the stream at the base of the hill.
He moved to the girl with more urgency now, shuffling along on his hands and knees. He brought his cheek close to her nose and could feel very slight warmth. Her breaths were long but weak. Being so close he could now see a dark purple bruise on her neck that looked to be very large. He pulled at the collar of the heavy coat she wore and saw the bruise was worse as it went down her right shoulder and down her back. He carefully brushed the powdery snow from her body and then using both hands felt along her right side for any swelling or bleeding. Her right hip was swollen, but there didn’t appear to be any broken bones.
Leto stood and brushed himself off, adjusted his pack, and took a look around. The broken spear lay close by, as well as the two other spears, and then it occurred to him. He removed his pack and outer coat, and using the two unbroken spears and some cord from his pack turned his coat into a travois. He braced the bottom with part of the broken spear, and moving slowly lifted the girl onto the litter. He tried to be careful as he used the little bits of cord he had left to secure her to the rig, and he placed a spare shirt from his own pack around her neck to support it, and hopefully cushion her head from the bumps and jars that this type of transport was sure to create. It was a day and a half back to the monastery and he knew that the Elder would be displeased to see him return. He could walk to Bellwater, there was a bridge south, but that would take him away from the direction he was told to go. For a few moments he stood holding the travois trying to decide what was the best course of action. His mind was made up by the oncoming snow.
The morning snowfall had been light, but now the sky was turning a dark gray and tinged with green. That meant hail, and possible heavy snow. It was unusual, this close to spring, for this kind of wintry weather, but more often than not it seemed to him the worst weather came at the worst times. A mile or so west, back the way he had come were some caves, really just some overhanging rock, along the hillside. With purpose, Leto turned around and started back toward those caves with long strong strides making the best time he could.
The ground was hard, and his path was down hill. He reached the rocky caves as wet snow was falling, and before the winds picked up. He moved the girl to the back of the cave; it was not deep, and immediately hurried back out to gather any wood he could find. To the south the trees were closer here than where he had found her, and many had low branches small enough for him to break. He was careful not to take too much from any one tree, although he knew that the Principles of Conservation were not so strict, it was good practice, he believed. When he got back to the cave the snow and wind were turning to driving sleet. The sound of heavy hail falling to the east grew louder. He closed his eyes and smiled, saying a prayer of thanks to the guardians of travelers.
Inside the cave he opened his pack. A linen cloth he used to wrap bread gave him the few fibers he needed for kindling. He had a hardwood box with twenty matches, that he had made himself, and a piece of roughened steel. There was a small fire in only minutes. The next thing he did was clean her face of dried blood using the cloth, and some water collected from the storm. To his surprise the wound began to bleed again. He applied pressure to the cut with one hand as he fished around in his pack for the sewing kit brother Randal had given him. The folded hide kit, had a strong needle, that was already threaded with a short length of string, it seemed funny to him now that he had not put the needle away properly after mending a shirt for Andrea. The art of stitching a wound was only shown him once, but he calmed his breath and set to the task with a steady hand. The hail was falling in rolling waves now. He let the rhythm of the storm guide his breathing, and focusing all his attention, closed the gash in her cheek with a line of stitches brother Randal would have been proud of.
The girl seemed to improve over the next few hours, but she did not wake up. Her color grew darker and her breaths stronger. The day was consumed with changes in rain, snow, sleet and hail. At dusk when the sky finally cleared and the moon was visible in the sky, a fog began to develop rising from the river to the south. Leto went out again for more wood. That night waking from fitful sleep, he watched the girls breathing. She was beautiful, he thought, which was a new thought for him. He had been around many women in his life, the nuns at Chawillik Glade, the traders that came from the villages and farms, and his mother, though she had left when he was eight. But this girl looked nothing like them. Even with her eyes closed he could tell those eyes were large, and her brows thick and dark. Her hair came to a point above her brows in the most peculiar fashion. Her face was small and shaped like a wedge. Looking at her he could tell she was small, like the Eshians, but strong. Over all she seemed odd in many ways, but he knew he loved her before he knew her name.

End of part one



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Saturday, June 5, 2004

With the glass front of the building now destroyed Theo could hear calls for help coming from inside. “Do you hear that?” He asked.
“Hear what?,” Ms. Greanwyloe asked through her tears.
“Some one is calling for help.”
“I don’t hear anything,” she said.
Theo didn’t know if she was going to say anything else. He didn’t wait to find out, instead he walked cautiously toward the broken entrance. Door, which he had thought had become trapped inside when it crashed through the foyer, moved to block any debris that might fall on him. He stopped and turned to see if Ms. Greanwyloe was following but saw that she was moving the opposite direction, toward the Media Center. It suddenly caught him as flattering that Door would protect him without being told. He called to Ms. Greanwyloe, “Ms. Greanwyloe I think there are people trapped in here.”
She turned and gave him a puzzled look. Raising her voice she called back, “I thought you meant over this way,” and gestured with her hand toward the Media center.
“No. I can here people calling for help in here.”
She jogged the short distance between them and threw up he hands in disgust. “What are you talking about? I can’t here anything,” and then her face showed that sudden expression of understanding, “you can here better now, that ‘s it,” she said.
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Tuesday, May 4, 2004

“There is something odd that happened this morning”, he said.
She was looking through the glass doors of the front of the building. The doors had large cracks in them now, but were still in place. It looked to him as though trying to open the doors might cause all that glass to come loose. It made him nervous. “Go on”, she said while taking his arm and leading him away from the building, “you were saying something about this morning.” He was about to tell her about the note from Parker when he noticed her make a little gesture with her thumb over her shoulder and a dark shadow flew over them with great speed. He closed his eyes and plugged his ears, as he knew that the living door that had been inconspicuously following them around was about to crash through the glass.
There was an enormous sound of shattering glass and a thump as Door hit the wall in the entry of the building. Ms. Greanwyloe seemed to not be startled by the noise and was waiting patiently for Theo to continue. “Well, you see there’s this old man that I know. I met him when I was a little boy. He was a friend of my fathers. I see him in the park some mornings because I go through the park to catch the bus to get to the campus. Anyway, most of the time he just likes to talk about the weather or the Doublers games, but this morning he seemed very odd. He gave me his phone number and e-mail address, and he said I would want to talk to him soon.”
“That does seem a bit odd. You say he has never said anything like this before?”
“No, never.”
“So you think maybe he knew this was going to happen.”
“It just seemed odd. But he was smiling when he said he knew I would want to talk with him, so I don’t know. Its not like he was warning me or anything.”
“Maybe you should call him.”
“He said he wouldn’t be back in town until Sunday, or maybe it was after Sunday I don’t remember for certain.”
“Do you still have his number?”
“Yes, it’s right here.” Without thinking Theo took the folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. She unfolded it and looked at it for several seconds.
“Are you sure this is the right paper”, she said as she scanned down the page. Before he could answer she blurted out, “Wait a tic. Look at this.” She turned the page around and poked the page with her finger. “This is a recipe for Gumbo. And not just any recipe, this is my mothers recipe.
“What, that can’t be right.” He was confused. He checked his pockets again, but of course he knew that it was the paper Parker had given him.
“Who gave you this?”
“Mr. Andersen.”
“Parker Andersen?” She shouted.
“Yes, Parker Andersen. You know him.”
“Well yes, I know him…knew him. Many years ago, almost twenty. We were engaged to be married. Why would he give you a recipe I gave him twenty years ago?”
“Maybe he’s just absent minded.” Theo said innocently.
The look on her face was painful. Theo could only guess it was a mixture of disgust and anger. “I would like to give you, and him, the benefit of the doubt, but unless he has had a huge change in character he did this for a reason. You said he was smiling. Was he smiling or grinning when he gave you this?”
“It was more like a grin than a smile.”
“Tell me exactly what he said when he gave it to you.”
“I don’t remember, something about seeing him again soon, and oh yes about not losing the paper.”
“Exactly Theo. I need to know exactly what he said.”
“Why is it important?” He was becoming annoyed by her behavior.
“Because twenty years ago Parker Andersen broke off our engagement and ran off with another woman. He wanted his freedom. I had hoped we would start a family together. I found out that he had several ‘fiancés’ and was lying constantly to everyone. I was young, hurt and very angry and I did something I am not proud to admit.” She looked away and did not look back. She finished telling him in a sad voice, “I put a curse on Parker Andersen. I don’t think he even knows about it.”
Theo would not have believed her, or believed in curses, where it not for the flying door. He was afraid to ask, “What kind of curse?”
“When ever he is lying, he will grin in a most telling way. It’s called the ‘curse of the false friend’ and it is difficult to be rid of. I wish I never made that curse. I paid dearly for making it.”

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Monday, April 19, 2004

Theo looked around for Mika, but didn’t see her. He wanted to hear more about the story Ms. Greanwyloe was telling him, but at the same time he felt a sudden urge to help find any others trapped in the building. “Ms. Greanwyloe, I’m not sure I understand all about this mythology you are telling me, but what does it have to do with what is happening now?”
“I know it may seem strange for me to say this, but a lot of people don’t believe these stories are just myths and legends. What I think is going on is simply this. I think the rules have changed. I think Daemons are entering our world. I think you play some part in this, because honestly there is no way you are a normal boy. You were running at a sprint and you were not winded. I saw you jump nearly 50 feet and the way you fought those monsters, I can’t explain. When, or if we have time I can tell you more, but for now I am going to keep a close eye on you.” The stern look on her face when she finished talking caught him off guard.
“I don’t have anything to do with this,” he said, and then he remembered the note that Parker had given him this morning. Maybe he was involved and he just didn’t know it. Parker, Mr. Andersen, had said that Theo was going to want to talk to him this weekend. There had to be some connection, he decided to let Ms. Greanwyloe know about what Mr. Andersen had said

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Friday, April 16, 2004

Trapped In the Machine
“We should go around to the front of the building,” Ms. Greanwyloe said.
“I hope everyone made it out alright,” said Theo, then he stopped walking and reached gently for her arm. His grip was firm but not threatening. He looked directly into her eyes and said, “Do you think you know what is going on?”
“Let’s keep walking and I will tell you what I think is happening,” she said, and patted his hand with hers. She smiled in that way she always would in class just before she started a new lecture topic. He wondered if she knew how disarming her smile could be.
She talked as she walked toward the university building, “If you take Miss. Hidaka’s Folklore and Mythology class next semester you will have a better going of it but I will try to tell you what I know. There is a popular story about a princess and the island in our lake.”
Theo interrupted with a sudden cheerfulness, “You mean the story of Princess Tevaria,” he exclaimed. He had always loved the story of the princess bridge.
“Yes, well the stories that they make into those books and movies are very different than the classical myths that they are taken from. In the oldest version of the tale nine Daemons fought for control of a place called Raddel, which means next to, or in the middle of in the Karnorg script. When the Nine Deamons came to the point where they had almost destroyed the entire universe one of the Elder Gods, Jasmynee called for a Derpagh, which was some kind of tribal gathering, and after the Elder Gods had concluded the Derpagh a list of rules was imposed on the universe that would reduce the power of the Daemons and limit there ability to travel from world to world.” She paused for a moment and Theo could tell she was collecting her thoughts.
“But where does the princess fit into all of that?” He asked. It was clear to Theo that Ms. Greanwyloe was a smart woman. She blinked only briefly, startled by the question he guessed, and then launched into another explanation.
“Princess Tevaria originally is one of the nine Deamons and not a princess at all. She is portrayed as a very temperamental and unpredictable being and is often associated with a Volcano that created this lake and the little island of Shaunnorra, who by the way is called the daughter of Tevaria. Anyway, this is where some of the more popular legends get skewed; you see one of the most important rules was that no Daemon could travel from one world to another without permission from another Daemon. This rule was supposed to prevent the Daemons from roaming about at will and wreaking havoc through out the universe. Tevaria believed that if she married another Daemon and could manipulate the wedding vows she would eternally have permission to roam where ever she wanted.”
“Sounds like she was a bad guy, or something. Which is weird, because the stories I always hear have her as a helpless victim in a marriage arranged by a terrible Daemon who wants to rule the world.” Theo said.
“Well, you see eventually she is the hero of the story, even though at first her motives are selfish. She enters into a bargain with Udothusaki, the Daemon of Hurd, but before she can complete the ceremony her handmaiden, Yasnithynee, informs her that Udothusaki is planning to imprison both Tevaria and her handmaid at the center of the world, and use her wedding vow to force the remaining Daemons to acknowledge him as their king. At this point the story is very convoluted, and basically is an elongated morality tale about honesty and promises. Tevaria allows herself to be poisoned by her handmaid to avoid making her vows. She promises that from the world beyond the living she will bring forth a daughter who will be a model wife, and it is from this part of the tale that almost all of the modern worlds wedding vows are taken.”
She had taken so long to explain the importance of the myth to Theo that he didn’t notice they had already circled the building, which they had just earlier escaped from, without finding any trace of any one else.

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