Hmm, the fires sound miserable and I sympathise, especially when it ruins a planned camping trip and you get no relief even when the winds change direction. I hope you get some rain soon at least. Here in Malta the weather is cooling a little, but the heat is falling to levels that I can cope with much, much better, so I'm even happy if it gets stuck at this level again for a few weeks. I shall have to set a couple of hours aside to collect all the Lord Derby bits together for you, since you ask so nicely :)
Index The soldiers half-marched, half-staggered as they made their way through earth that seemed to have tried to shrug everything living off it. They didn't speak, it took too much energy. The snowdrops and heather were gone from sight now and there was a sense of pressure building, like a storm brewing on a distant horizon. Finally they circled a twenty-metre high protusion of mud and rock, boots squelching in what might be mud, but might still be a mix of blood and soil, and behind it found a stretch of flat earth. On it was a surprisingly precise circle of menhirs: tall standing stones that had been carved in some prehistoric time into shapes of men and women, though men and women with unnaturally long heads and arms and a hint of a third eye located in the middle of their forehead. They faced each other across the circle, and it was hard to shake the feeling that an audience were waiting for the show to start. A short distance away from the stone were three yellow-brown tents, small triangular things that had been there long enough for moss to start growing on them and discolouring them to spotty grey and black in place. There was a fire-pit outside one tent, and a pair of boots outside another, but otherwise nothing moved. The soldiers came to a halt and formed a short line some metres ahead of the tent, and their de facto leader, the man with the map, announced their arrival.
Two more Byakhee arrived, rustling in flight like trees annoyed by the wind. They landed on strong clawed feet, like chickens but eight times the size, and their heads, as big as a man's chest, swung from side to side as they considered everything around them from first one eye and then the next. Lord Derby was quietly impressed at how quickly they'd come, and privately annoyed with himself that he still hadn't worked out how Tomasz had managed to summon them, but he pushed that aside, produced his best smile, and offered his hand to the riders as they dismounted. "Sjarna," said a woman, pushing leather goggles away from her eyes and up onto her head. Lord Derby noticed as they shook hands that her index finger was missing, and her eyes followed his. "The price of passage." "I'm Rosalind," said the other woman. She was slightly older and smelled of something darkly spicy, something peppery. "The price of passage?" asked Lord Derby, shaking her hand also. "Mine was teeth," said Rosalind. "Wisdom teeth, extracted without painkillers." "Mine was a memory," said Tomasz. "I suppose it's a blessing that I can't remember what it was, but not knowing makes me sad sometimes. Right, Sjarna, you can take Ernest, and Rosalind, you get Samual. We need to get going." Both women looked at the sky, though Lord Derby could see nothing there, and nodded. Samual mounted first, trying to stop looking appalled that anyone could refer to Lord Derby as Ernest, and Lord Derby mounted next, hiding his smile.
Unknown Greg - if it only takes you a couple hours I will be impressed. Also: it's been in the mid-twenties with blue skies (and some clouds too I suppose) all week here. It's been amazing to be free of the smoke.
Gah, now you've basically got two stories continuing at once. And I am utterly hooked on both. Two hooks in, sir. Two hooks.
Morganna - hah, up to the challenge of an acrostic with an 'x' in it I see :) Nicely done.
3 comments:
Hmm, the fires sound miserable and I sympathise, especially when it ruins a planned camping trip and you get no relief even when the winds change direction. I hope you get some rain soon at least. Here in Malta the weather is cooling a little, but the heat is falling to levels that I can cope with much, much better, so I'm even happy if it gets stuck at this level again for a few weeks.
I shall have to set a couple of hours aside to collect all the Lord Derby bits together for you, since you ask so nicely :)
Index
The soldiers half-marched, half-staggered as they made their way through earth that seemed to have tried to shrug everything living off it. They didn't speak, it took too much energy. The snowdrops and heather were gone from sight now and there was a sense of pressure building, like a storm brewing on a distant horizon. Finally they circled a twenty-metre high protusion of mud and rock, boots squelching in what might be mud, but might still be a mix of blood and soil, and behind it found a stretch of flat earth. On it was a surprisingly precise circle of menhirs: tall standing stones that had been carved in some prehistoric time into shapes of men and women, though men and women with unnaturally long heads and arms and a hint of a third eye located in the middle of their forehead. They faced each other across the circle, and it was hard to shake the feeling that an audience were waiting for the show to start.
A short distance away from the stone were three yellow-brown tents, small triangular things that had been there long enough for moss to start growing on them and discolouring them to spotty grey and black in place. There was a fire-pit outside one tent, and a pair of boots outside another, but otherwise nothing moved.
The soldiers came to a halt and formed a short line some metres ahead of the tent, and their de facto leader, the man with the map, announced their arrival.
Two more Byakhee arrived, rustling in flight like trees annoyed by the wind. They landed on strong clawed feet, like chickens but eight times the size, and their heads, as big as a man's chest, swung from side to side as they considered everything around them from first one eye and then the next. Lord Derby was quietly impressed at how quickly they'd come, and privately annoyed with himself that he still hadn't worked out how Tomasz had managed to summon them, but he pushed that aside, produced his best smile, and offered his hand to the riders as they dismounted.
"Sjarna," said a woman, pushing leather goggles away from her eyes and up onto her head. Lord Derby noticed as they shook hands that her index finger was missing, and her eyes followed his. "The price of passage."
"I'm Rosalind," said the other woman. She was slightly older and smelled of something darkly spicy, something peppery.
"The price of passage?" asked Lord Derby, shaking her hand also.
"Mine was teeth," said Rosalind. "Wisdom teeth, extracted without painkillers."
"Mine was a memory," said Tomasz. "I suppose it's a blessing that I can't remember what it was, but not knowing makes me sad sometimes. Right, Sjarna, you can take Ernest, and Rosalind, you get Samual. We need to get going."
Both women looked at the sky, though Lord Derby could see nothing there, and nodded. Samual mounted first, trying to stop looking appalled that anyone could refer to Lord Derby as Ernest, and Lord Derby mounted next, hiding his smile.
It's in the book
Never to be found
Damn it, I
Expected to find
Xylophone's definition somewhere!
Unknown Greg - if it only takes you a couple hours I will be impressed. Also: it's been in the mid-twenties with blue skies (and some clouds too I suppose) all week here. It's been amazing to be free of the smoke.
Gah, now you've basically got two stories continuing at once. And I am utterly hooked on both. Two hooks in, sir. Two hooks.
Morganna - hah, up to the challenge of an acrostic with an 'x' in it I see :) Nicely done.
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