Wind and Rain
Polished 13.1 and 13.2 — 34m51s — 2020/08/18
Rewrote 13.3, 13.4, 13.5, and 13.6 — 2h34m17s — 2020/08/20
…and that is the histories of the paradise world built by the Stod LaPeuvian people before the Red Moon arrived and destroyed them utterly.
Though some say this paradise was lost with the coming of the Red Moon, others say the story is impossible since the world has never been a paradise, and never will be. Whether or not the story is technically true, there is much humor and wisdom to be gleaned. As for the varying state of the world, I am one of those that believe this earth has always been a paradise and always will be—but only if one allows. Of course, even paradise demands its sacrifices, as this story illustrates with the destruction of the righteous LaPeuvians.
— Wybrow the Wanderer
~!@#$%^&*()_+ 13.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~
With camp set, fires lit, and the prisoners attended, Baet collected a handful of silversage in the fading light. He set a small kettle on the edge of the fire and began to break the aged bits of the herb into the pot.
Toar approached from out of the growing dark and sat next to the guard. "All that again," he said. “Do you still suffer?”
Baet shook his head as he continued his work. "Nah, the taste is growing on me, and I want for something to do,” he admitted.
“Since the brothers no longer play games with you?” Toar asked.
Baet snorted and didn’t bother to answer. “Nice knives,” he pointed to the knives around Toar’s leg. “Where’d you get those?”
“I traded for them in Tedter’s,” Toar pointed in the general direction of the village.
“You thrown any of ‘em yet?” Baet asked, feeling a touch betrayed that Toar might be practicing to fight without him.
Toar nodded, “a bit.” He admitted. he didn’t want to say he’d skipped Carringten’s to practice so he could throw at trees.
Baet stirred his tea, and allowed the crackle of the fire to cover silence. "Where's Celesi?" he asked, hoping he didn’t sound judgmental.
"She is unlikely far," Toar noted, a touch sour. "Shall I go find her?”
"You mock," Baet huffed. "I do not know why the priestess has turned her against me."
"She is not turned against you," Toar shook his head.
“You sure?” Baet asked. “You sure she ain’t turning you against me?”
“I ain’t against you,” Toar answered. “I let her hang on me because It feels good to be a hero. Just because she is near me doesn’t mean I endorse her attitudes,” he noted.
"Oh?"
"She is quite alone and in need of a friend,” Toar shrugged. “She has not had an easy time of it. Meriona meant to sell her. She was surrounded by enemies, including a great number of uncouth men.”
“Uncouth?!” Baet turned and brandished a branch of silversage at the Trohl. “You call me uncouth?!”
Toar held up an appeasing hand, “Her term, not mine. She knows why foreigners drink the silversage.”
“Well, she’s sure enraptured witby you,” Baet replied. “i bet she wouldn’t count your advances uncouth.” With another snort, he turned back to the silversage. “Uncouth,” he huffed. “Don’t know why the priestess has turned her against me. She was nice for a day....”
“I do not think it is a term the priestess would use as an insult,” Toar replied, rather cold and analytical, as he ignored Baet’s pain. Instead, he fired off against Wenifas. “I imagine the priestess has known too many hands for such a delicate insult."
Still liking the look of Wenifas—and also just wanting to disagree—Baet glared at his friend. "Don't speak of her like that!"
Toar shook his head. “I do not say it to be mean,” he began. "Regardless, I did not come here to fight you. I shall leave you alone," he stood, turned, and began to walk away.
"No, stay," Baet said. "Lately, I want for friends."
"What do you mean?” Toar asked. “You have many friends."
"Do I?" Baet replied. "The priestess hates me, as does Celesi. The brothers Homoth and Komotz hate me, and the other Jindleyak avoid me on their account." He ignored the fact that Saleos and Duboha were more than happy to talk to him. Even Scurra talked to him whenever she felt like it, and seemed willing to talk—though Baet was strangely intimidated by the woman. As for the two mutes, he could never think of anything to say to them, because they couldn’t possibly say anything back.
"You have me,” Toar noted. “You have Carringten and the duke.”
Baet shrugged. He did not want to mention why the duke or Carringten should have reason to question him. Indeed, he had not thought on that in such a long time. For a moment he wondered if his betrayal was forgotten. Did Creigal ever knew? He shook his head to clear away these long forgotten suspicions. He certainly didn’t need to be stirring up any of that mess—especially if it was all but forgotten. “Okay,” Baet agreed. “And the boy has taken a shining to me. Did I tell you he tried to stab me—and now I’m teaching him how to fight.”
Toar’s eyes went wide. “Is that such a good idea?” he began. “He threatened Celesi and even took a swipe at me.”
Baet laughed at that. “Maybe if you trained with us, he wouldn’t be so hostile.”
“He’s tried to stab you twice!” Toar noted. “I saw it the first time!”
“Okay,” Baet held up a hand. “I’ll talk to him about threatening his friends. I’ll even make lessons contingent on it, Mostly because I think he’s likely to ambush somebody sooner or later.” He shook his head and looked off into the distance. “He’s sure got some bit of the devil in him.”
For a long second neither spoke. Staring across the camp, Toar gave a nod toward Homoth and Komotz. "What have you done to offend the brothers?" he asked.
Baet shook his head. "I won,” he began. “I won and I won, and I keep on winning. I thought it was a great blessing to best them in cards and have a few coins in my pocket—but they began to hold my luck against me."
Toar shrugged. "If winning is the problem, perhaps you should try losing."
Baet gave his friend a quizzical eye. "I’ve kinda been rubbing their faces in it,” he admitted.
“Oh right,” Toar realized it was true. “It might still work.”
Baet shrugged. “Might be the trick—except that they don’t let me play anymore."
Toar patted his friend on the back. "Don’t let it bother you. Now that hey have prisoners to drain their animosity, they'll forget a little coin."
“Maybe,” Baet shrugged. “Either way, thanks for trading me watches.”
~!@#$%^&*()_+ 13.3 +_)(*&^%$#@!~
(Claiten wakes. He gets up and leaves the tent in order to crow at the rising sun. As he crows, as Golifett comes out of the lake to take him, Scurra wakes and fires at the emerging naga.)
Claiten woke early, just as the sky was beginning to lighten before the sun was even up. With a huff, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but there was little rest for the boy. He squirmed and fidgeted and hoped his mother didn't notice his troubles. She had her own issues, which didn't surprise the boy. Indeed, she was so troubled that she had a hard time just keeping her food down. He listened in the darkness and tried to detect any uneasiness in her breathing. Was she awake? All he could hear was a slow rhythmic sound, contrasted by the quick shallow breath of Evereste, and the faint breathing of Celesi in another bed.
Where was Meu? Gingerly, Claiten felt about the bed for her familiar serpentine body and wondered if she’d got up early again. Despite all the time they’d spent together, she still managed to surprise the boy. He remembered the hotel in Ebertin and how she'd stay out for hours, only to return in her own time.
Despite a thin veil of clouds and the soft patter of rain, the light of the sun began to creep upon the world. An insatiable urge grew in the boy. He pushed aside his covers, dressed, and gathered the naga blade he'd carried since Beletrain. Slowly, quietly, Claiten stepped from the tent, went to the water's edge and turned his defiant face to the sun. It was a drab day, and the storm clouds only intensified toward the horizon—but there was a gap between the clouds and the mountains, and for a few moments at least, the sun peeked through. Claiten was electrified by the sight. He didn’t mind the soft pattering drizzle, even as it increased. Instead, he was mesmerized by the red light of early dawn as a thick layer of dark, ominous clouds brooded low over the mountains. The occasional flash of lightning ripped at the sky. Soon the sun would creep into the clouds and the day would take on a drab and lifeless quality—but for the moment the world was bathed in blood red light.
Anger gripped the boy. With the dagger in hand, Claiten crowed long and loud, "ERRR-AY-ERRR-AY-ERRRRRR!"
For a time, the boy stood and stared out at the sun. Slowly, ever so slowly, the sun drifted up toward the clouds, and began to merge with the billowing desolation overhead. “ERRR-AY-ERRR….” He began again—but stopped as his blood chilled. Instead, something terrifying occurred. The lake began to ripple and fins appeared in the water, heading directly toward the boy. Naga, he realized as he clenched his dagger and his teeth.
~!@#$%^&*()_+ 13.4 +_)(*&^%$#@!~
The crowing shattered the morning's silence and Creigal jerked awake. Called back into the world of the living, the duke settled against the cool thin frame of Meu as she too woke from the sound. Thoughts of the long and pleasing might they’d spent together faded as he wondered at the crowing. "I swear I've heard that same rooster ever since the Copper Kettle and Rooms," he shook his head. "I certainly heard it that first morning, when I saw you in your native form," he said as he remembered the strangeness of that day.
It is not a rooster at all, Meu told the duke. It is the boy. He has crowed ever since I rescued him from Beletrain, she noted.
“The boy?” Creigal frowned. “And why should the boy crow?”
Meu shrugged. The naga was quite obsessed with chickens.
“Was he obsessed with chickens?” Creigal asked, “Or was he trying to obsess the child with chickens?”
What do you mean? Meu asked.
“I know of a sorcerer,” Creigal began. “He used to get people to bark, like a dog. He didn’t have any purpose behind it. He just did it as a lark—because he could. But I always wondered what sort of practical application one could find for such training. Certainly, it’d make someone easy to find…”
The duke’s comment was cut off, as Claiten began to crow once more. “ERRR-AY-ERRR….” but that too was interrupted.
Meu's eyes went wide as she scampered from their bed. The boy! She cried with her eyes, then turned and ran from the tent.
"Wait!” Creigal yelled pulled on his pants, grabbed his sword and Traust’s shield, and ran after her. “You're naked!" He rushed from the tent as the slight rain seemed to increase into a steady downpour. The land sloped up to a slight rise before it angled back down toward the lake. Meu crested the rise as Creigal sprinted after her. "To arms!" he cried as he ran toward the red light of dawn. "To arms!"
~!@#$%^&*()_+ 13.5 +_)(*&^%$#@!~
Claiten stood halfway down the gentle slope, thirty feet from the edge of the lake. He lifted his blade before him, and glared as he prepared to fight. He stared at the rippling water and the hairs stood on end, starting at the nape of his neck, spreading up his spine, to the crown of his head, and down his back and arms. Adrenaline flushed though his veins, and he began to take long, controlled breaths. Muscles taut, he watched as Golifett slithered out of the water. The beast caught sight of the boy and grinned, then began advancing in a slow sure manner.
His anger was so bright and righteous, that for a second Claiten thought he should fight the beast. But several more naga slithered out of the lake behind the first, and the boy knew there was no way he could stand against them all. He turned and fled toward the crest of the hill.
“To arms! To arms!” a distant voice called, though Claiten could barely hear it over the sound of rushing blood in his ears. He glanced back and noticed the naga were rushing after him—and now there were at least seven of them! He let out a blood-curling scream. as he struggled up the soaking wet hill in the increasing downpour.
Something rustled in the tree before the boy. An arrow raced past him, several feet to the left. he heard a grunt and turned to see a naga impaled and curled over the arrow.
Claiten realized he wouldn’t make the crest of the hill before the naga caught him. He turned and noticed that only Golifett was after him. The others had turned the tree that spit arrows—as another arrow rushed forward and grazed one of the beasts.
Scurra let loose a war cry, and a barrage of arrows, as the naga rushed on. She glanced another and hit yet another’s center mass.
Claiten turned on Golifett. He stared the beast down, then rushed at him, despite his long arms, and long sword.
Golifett was surprised by the attack. His overconfidence turned to alarm as Claiten rushed in and took a swipe at the beast with his own dagger. The boy scored a superficial wound—though it stung the serpent nonetheless. Surprised not only to be attacked, but also wounded, Golifett grabbed the child by his clothes, and yanked him off.
Off-balance, Claiten spun away and fell to his hands and knees. He scrambled for his dagger, grabbed it, and turned on Golifett once more—just as Meu crested the hill in her wyrm form and slammed into the naga from the side. Tangled, the two serpents went down in a writhing heap.
~!@#$%^&*()_+ 13.6 +_)(*&^%$#@!~
The Jindleyak call it a leviathan. The Saots call it a cloud Kraken.
Andrus blinked against his grogginess. The night was miserable as clouds began to gather some hours after midnight, rumbled their disappointment with the land, then began to spit and drizzle a few hours later. Now it was a steady rain and only increasing as he huddled against the bracing chill.
Some nights the last watch was the easiest, when Andrus had plenty of sleep and wanted to be about the day. Today was not that sort of day. The day before, he’d spent several hours and a good amount of effort trying to figure out how Meu shifted into her serpentine shape. The work was exhausting—but he’d figured out how to summon the obscuring shadows. He thought if he could just see her make the transition again, he might decipher her secret.
But that was a concern for another time. For now, he was simply trying to stay awake. If Homoth and Komotz found him sleeping on watch, they’d pester him for weeks—and the others might never let him forget it, especially since they had prisoners. Still, the dark man seemed to be obsessed with the prisoners, so Andrus didn’t fear them doing anything. he just didn’t want to get mocked in front Celesi.
His head sagged and for half a second, he closed his eyes. then, as he realized he was beginning to drift away, he snapped back, and stared out at the storm. God, he was tired. He wondered if Saleos noticed as the older man fed their sheltered fire. Despite the storm, the sky was getting lighter, and Andrus hoped the rising sun would chase away his fatigue. It wouldn’t stay for but a moment, as it began to cross the jagged gap between mountain and clouds. The far stretch of lake glowed red.
A rooster crowed just over the slight rise that blocked the lake shore. Andrus thought it odd to hear the bird, since they were camped in the wilds, far from any settlement or farm—and also because it sounded like the same crow he’d heard several days running—which seemed quite odd. Still, he smiled to have something else distract him from his sleepiness.
“Wait!” Andrus heard the duke yell. “Your naked!” He turned to see Meu brush aside the heavy cloth of the tent, and sprinted toward the edge of the lake, sans clothes.
Andrus stood with a frown and wondered why the silent skin-walker was running for the water in all god's glory. Did she mean to bathe? That’s what he figured she was up to—though he really hoped he might see her do the trick again.
She hissed as she saw him—though she ran right past. A flush of energy washed over Andrus as he stood and loped after the naked woman.
“To arms! To arms!” the duke called, as he brushed past Andrus at a dead run; with only his pants, sword, and shield. Andrus rushed after them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Saleos stand and follow. Before him, Meu summoned the shadows and transform into the wyrm once more. Andrus grinned as he watched the magic—and also because he heard Saleos gape and curse to see the shadows rush in and shift her form. The boy screamed and Scurra let out a war cry—and Andrus wondered what the hell was happening!? Only steps behind the duke, he crested the small rise and paused to survey what was before him.
The land sloped down to the large lake below. Several naga moved about, mostly around Scurra’s tree. One tangled and wrestled with the winged form of Meu, as a couple others turned, and began to circle away from the duke. The rain seemed to get thicker. Andrus let out a yell, pulled his sword, and charged after the duke. His heart dipped as he raced forward. He hoped the others weren’t far behind.
Andrus passed the first beast with its bandaged eye. Meu seemed more than capable of handling her own, and the little boy circled with his blade, as he looked for an opening.
Sword in hand, the duke fell on the closest naga. Another of the beasts looked to flank the duke, but Andrus threw himself at this interloper. Andrus caught it with its guard too high and slashed it across the ribs. The naga recoiled and backed several paces, only to be blindsided by Saleos.
Andrus felt the blade more than he saw it or heard it. He dodged away and slipped in the soaked grass. Luckily, he fell away from his attacker—but he’d lost his sword. He managed to catch the beast with its arm raised high and pulled it off balance. Andrus fell on top of the creature, and the two rolled to the shallow edge of the lake. He sputtered and coughed as he wrestled with the thin-armed naga, then found himself on top of the beast. He stepped on the flat of the naga's dagger and struck the creature's face with his fist again and again.
Out of the corner of his eye, Andrus saw a blur of motion—but it was too late. Something struck his shoulder, and he crashed into the water with a terrible pain. He wondered if the bone was broken as he rolled to his back—his face just out of the water. Above him stood another naga with hate in its eyes as it raised a large mallet with a heavy square head. Andrus lifted his good arm, knowing the weapon would smash right through before it carried on and crushed his skull like an egg. At least it'd be over quickly, he thought, as the naga lifted its brutish weapon. I've lived a good life, he told himself, though there was so much he'd left unfinished.
But it didn’t end. Instead, the naga jerked back as blood exploded from its chest. A split second later, a massive boom sounded from the direction of camp. Andrus turned his head. He could just see Wenifas near the top of the rise, a short distance off. Smoke rose from the musket in her outstretched hand. The dead naga slumped to the side, and dropped its mallet. Unfortunately, the weapon dropped straight down and although it didn’t have the naga to propel it, the heavy mallet fell with the full force of gravity. Andrus felt several ribs crack as the air rushed from his lungs.
The fighting grew louder and more intense as it was joined en masse. Unable to breathe, Andrus choked as another boom shook the very air.
A woman screamed—Celesi!—he realized, and his heart went out to the girl as her scream devolved into sobs.
Oh Celesi!
He pitied that he should never see her again—even though she barely saw him. For whatever reason, she only had eyes for Toar, despite his obvious disinterest.
Andrus sucked air and tried to get off his back—but he still couldn't breathe from the smash of the hammer, as it’d knocked the air out of him. He managed to pull a The tiniest bit of air seeped into his lungs.
The rain was now coming down in sheets as the very sky seemed to press down on them.
A voice cut through the hostilities, clear as a bell. "Run!" Scurra screamed from her place in the tree. "Run, you fools! Death comes for us all!"
Andrus gasped and huffed as he propped himself up on his good elbow. He turned and knew that his cousin was right. At the far end of the lake, the dark clouds churned and boiled, as if it was somehow alive—and before it came an increasing army of dark specks, flying through the murk at incredible speed.
The winged beasts grew bigger and bigger as they shot across the lake, their wings beating furiously as the pressed themselves forward. At first, he thought they were crows—but no—they were much too large for that. Indeed, they were a good deal bigger than people! Andrus wondered that such dark angels should dance and shriek before the growing, roiling mass of darkness and hate like nothing he’d ever imagined. Whatever was in the storm moved much too fast as it came straight at them!
Finally, his breath began to settle, but Andrus didn’t bother moving from the water. Instead, he settled on his back and prayed the approaching dark vision would pass him by unnoticed. With coal black eyes, the winged figures flew directly overhead. He’d heard of the beasts on many occasions, and even believed he’d seen a few from far, far away—but had never been this close to dragons—and he’d only ever heard of such a number of the beasts in hushed, reverent whispers.
But the dragons were nothing compared to the creature that chased them. Several tentacles as long as lightning stretched out of the dark mass of cloud and whipped about the screaming dragons as they fled across the lake. The beasts—dozens and dozens—shot overhead, with their scaled bodies, clawed hands, and intelligent alien eyes.
Dragons! Andrus thought, then wondered, what chases dragons?
A long, thin line stretched from the roiling mess of cloud and slapped a dragon out of the sky. The dragon crashed into the waters of the lake, and the tentacle followed immediately. The tentacle dipped into the lake, went taut, then lifted the limp winged beast from the water by its back foot. The stunned and drenched dragon was pulled back, as the dark mass of cloud hissed and popped with electric fury. A terrible shrieking came from the beast within. Another tentacle wrapped about the stunned beast and the dragon was pulled apart as if it was an ant, then lifted the rent beast into the heart of storm.
The world was muffled for Andrus, as his ears were below the surface of the water—yet he could feel the beasts as they passed overhead—first the dragons as they raced in waves, and then the massive leviathan that gave chase. A deep calm came over the man, even as he realized this is how he would die.