Fall of The Hamurai – Part 2 – The Empress

Silence pervaded the hidden chamber of the sacred city of pearls. Vole servants paced silently back and forth, their anxiety was written plainly on their silent faces. It was not permitted to pass a word within the chamber without the empress present and although they traditionally adopted a system of signals to communicate, the atmosphere that hung over this place reduced the impulse to gossip to a few furtive glances.

The servants started as they heard a door slam beyond the chamber they were in, more glances were exchanged and their souls tensed. The empress was angry, which could easily lead to one of their heads being served on a plate. Before long, the regular striking step of her majesty could be heard approaching them, so the production went into frantic effect.

They worked silently and automatically; taking from many small cabinets a selection of cordials, perfumes and dainties that they knew the empress expected to be on hand, all the while keeping a portion of their attention to the raised voices that were coming closer to them with every second. After a minute or two, they had furnished the small tables that lined the receiving chamber with a plethora of beautiful and exquisitely crafted platters and bottles, arranged in traditional ways as to please her majesty.

Not a moment sooner than the last servant had placed the last marinated slug roll upon a pyramid of its contemporaries, did the beautifully worked lacquered door of the chamber burst open as if kicked, and a short, rotund female Vole marched into the center of the room: She was Empress Kinato, leader of the dawn empire; an archipelago of one hundred islands that stretched over a thousand miles in the shining sea. She ruled over many peoples: from the giant Tanuki that tended to the high mountain passes to the diminutive field mice that tended to vast swaths of rice and wheat all over the empire.

The Empress stood expectantly, dressed in a voluminous plum coloured kimono. Its silks were of the finest weave and the print; the dawn sun rising over little fishing boats, was painstakingly detailed in gold and red thread. Trailing behind her was a gaggle of functionaries and politicians whose never ending stream of consciousness filled the chamber. The servants looked on as they placed treats into the Empress’s oustretched hand, her bored expression quickly turned to anger as she listened to Lord Hakana; A vole of the most aristocratic class, talk of a subject about which he was most passionate:

“I talked to you last time, my empress, of a small commune situated in the slate valley, now the blossom valley, upon the hill of Tanagara which I am sure you know was the most holy of places under the old religion. I have since sent diplomats to treat with their noble and well respected elder, Lord Gutoa; a hamster of some military renown.”

Hakana said this as he always did, speculatively, in the hope that others would ask him questions and so he would be at liberty to talk at great length about himself. Rather than this however, the empress rounded on him, the fur on her cheeks standing on end, her mouth still full of slug, she chewed slowly. She stared at the tall vole for a solid minute while everyone else, who had previously been chattering away about one petty matter of state or another, quickly passed into silence; some even took a step away from Hakana, for they anticipated fit of the Empress’s rage. Eventually she spoke in a tone of vicious certainty.

“Yes, lord Hakana, you did indeed speak to me of these brigands you now seem so deferent to. A ‘commune’ you call a rebel lord establishing an independent territory upon my very doorstep. A hamster no less; vile creatures not native to our archipelago and who, instead of instructing them in the appropriate way to conduct themselves as rightful subjects of their divine empress, you condescended to send diplomats, as if this Gutoa were emperor in his own right. Have I appraised your report correctly, lord?”

Hakana’s ears lay flat against his head, nose twitching and eyes darting back and forth between his colleagues; nobody offered even a shade of sympathy and all assembled would not even meet his gaze, but Hakana, being a prideful old Vole, saw this as not a rebuke, but an opportunity to convince his most beloved majesty.

“Now, be fair majesty, the slate valley has long been under the sway of true brigands like the notorious Kai Lang, who have terrorized the common populace for many years. Your father tried and failed for to tame that part of the mainland and it seems that this Gutoa, through his organisational prowess or military might has brought that part of our country into civilisation. my point was not only that we should gently bring him into the fold for the good of the empire, but that he may be a valuable asset to use in the future.”

Hakana puffed out his chest and refused to wither under the glare of the empress who squinted as she chewed, her hackles still raised. Slowly she retorted after stuffing another dainty into her mouth.

“Now you speak of my father’s apparent failings and this Hamster’s superiority over the divine and everlasting emperor’s memory in such a distasteful way! This Gutoa has surely poisoned your mind with his revolutionary thinking. The bandits of the south, while wholly disregarding our laws, atleast paid tribute and deference. No, my dear Lord Hakana, this cannot stand. As remedy, I will send you with my most beautiful army to take down these usurpers to my name. Go now and dismantle this cult. That is my final word on the matter.”

With that, the empress turned away. Lord Hakana paled and shrank as he realised the gravity of what had just taken place.

“No, please my empress.”

She carried on without regarding his words.

“Lady Nitato, come and look over the sunset with me, I wish to feel nostalgic.”

A tall and beautiful weasel strode forwards, her eyes fluttering with a patronising look as she passed the old vole, whose world had closed in on him. General Akahashi clapped him upon the shoulder.

“Come now my lord, I shall instruct you on the proper use of my soldiers.”

                                 **********

In the valley of blossoms, Kusai, having wiped away the tears she had momentarily shed, looked out to the mouth of the valley where the winding river Bokke turned, she saw a flash of glittering steel and a shadow pass over the land. A column of soldiers was emerging. She sheathed her sword and bounded up the steps to the temple; her sadness turning into grim determination with every step.

A Mysterious Egg – Part Two

THUD! Thud! Rafie started, vision swirling around her as she struggled to wake up. Thud! There was a pounding on her door, that’s what woke her up. She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled over the egg that had seemingly rolled off its nest, momentarily confused, the urgency of the knocking pulled her back to the present. She scooped up the egg and opened the door.
“Please, Rafie, please, come with us, Jesel is missing, he’s gone!” A hunch backed woman, who she recognised as Anni, the local village’s resident mother hen, grabbed fearfully at Rafie’s sleeve.
“Anni, slow down. I need to get my things; What happened?” She turned back into the cottage.
“No we have no time, he’s been gone all night.” Tears streamed down her face, her whole body was shaking.
“I’ll only be a second.” Rafie placed the egg back in the nest, then grabbed her gloves and walking stick.
“Lead the way.” Said Rafie, pulling on her gloves. Anni started off, leaning heavily on her own walking stick and on the arm of her grandson, Nen, a stout farmer whose expression was of honest concern.
“A horse went missing, it ran we think, Jesel went to go find it himself last night.” Anni choked on the words and Nen took over.
“We didn’t realise that he was gone until this morning.” Nen patted his ailing grandmother’s back.
“They went into the forest? The horse and Jesel?” Rafie’s senses were sharpening now in the cool morning air.
“Yes, the horse tracks lead away from the farm and to the edge of the wood, we tried to follow but I knew I would have no hope.” He gave a harsh shrug, his face going red behind his black beard.
“Not many people would.” Rafie said reassuringly. It was true, the forest was notoriously tricky and hostile to many. Rafie’s nature and her linage made her one of only a few who could traverse the mystical place alone.
They hadn’t gone far from Rafie’s cottage; Anni could only move slowly despite pushing herself.
“Head back to the farmhouse. Get what bandages and healing herbs you can ready. Jesel may simply be lost or he may be hurt. I will bring him to you as soon as I find him.”
Anni and her grandson nodded, Anni gripped his arm tighter, they had a job to do now, which would keep their mind occupied for a little while.
There were dark clouds looming off in the distance, it wouldn’t be long before rain came.
Rafie nodded in turn and lengthened her stride, making for the edge of the forest. She drew in a breath and slowly let it out, centering herself, opening her mind to nature. Once she broke into the line of trees, she stripped off her gloves and skimmed her hand over tree trunks and plants as she wound her way through the dense vegetation.
As with Lady Time, communication was not straight forward, there were images in her mind, snippets of life in the forest but she couldn’t ask about Jesel directly, but she could prod. She purposefully walked towards the farmhouse, where Jesel had come from. It was a good walk from her cottage to there, made shorter by cutting through the woods. Anni and Nen would have had to skirt all the way around the treeline, one mile atleast. Rafie hoped the trees would remember Jesel nearer there, or maybe the horse.
The forest stirred around her, confused at her questioning mind. She saw small glinting eyes in the shadows between trees. Animals would be a better source of information, but more difficult to seek for. She slowed her pace and crouched, then using her walking stick for balance, she opened her mind further. Her sense of self blurred, over many years she knew her limits but it always felt a little like looking at yourself in a crowd, and it did not come without risks.
There was a fox nearby, skittish and sleepy from a night spent hunting, but she saw it’s life essence as clear as a candle in the dark. However, there was also a darker presence, something lumbering, huge and poisonous. A twinge of pain caused Rafie to recoil. The presence was far away, somewhere deeper in the forest. Rafie took a moment to breathe, she was almost unmoored.
Gently she focused on the fox, prodding softly and asking about a man and a horse. The fox cowered back at the mention of the horse, she had seen the lumbering beast and ran away from it, afraid of the large hooves.
“Could you take me to where you saw the horse? Was a man following after it?” She showed her concern for Jesel.
The fox was scared but turned and slowly walk away, looking back over her shoulder.
Rafie stood, glad for the stick as her vision swam, but she was able to pull herself back. Once she was following, the fox picked up its pace. Now that they were connected, Rafie was able to settle back into herself and the million voices of plant and animal in the wood shrank away, leaving only the fox’s skittish presence in her mind.
They were heading quite deep into the forest. Rafie wondered what had caused the poor horse to flee this far.
Up ahead the fox leapt up on a fallen log, and sat down, tail twitching. Rafie walked up to the log and heard hooves pawing at the ground, she saw some movement further past the trees.
“Thank you.” She said and the fox leapt away, running back through the trees to its home, to rest.
Rafie climbed over the log and slowly approached the sound. In a small clearing with more fallen trees was a horse. Very large and dark, with furry white feet coated in mud. She was pawing at something near a freshly fallen log. Rafie did not want to approach it from behind, she had no desire to be kicked by a spooked horse. She circled slowly around until she was facing the side of the horse.
“Rafie-” A strained and weak voice rose up from the brush. Between the log and the horse lay a muddied man.
“Jesel-” She took a step forwards and stopped, the horse lifted its massive head and looked at Rafie. She looked wild.
“I’m here to help.” Rafie dropped her walking stick and held out both hands. The horse stamped down whinnying, the impact scattered more mud and leaves over Jesel.
“Acker, please, it’s okay.” The old man’s voice was weak, but the horse heard his reassuring voice and swung her head down, touching Jesel’s forehead.
“Are you injured?” Rafie asked as she approached, feeling more certain that Acker wouldn’t make a sudden move, but keeping one eye on the large animal.
“My leg is trapped, Acker is trying to free me but she can’t get underneath it. I hurts like anything.”
Jesel was on his back, right leg deep in the soft mud and under the fallen tree. Huge gouges marked where Acker had attepmted to help by getting her nose underneath.
“We should be able to do this together, eh girl?” She placed her hand softly on to the side of the horse’s muscular neck, attempting to calm the distressed creature. Images flickered, a stable, hay, a shadow, blue eyes and terror. Acker had seen the same creature Rafie felt earlier and fled. Rafie soothed over the memories, they would not help the poor horse now. Silently she conveyed her plan.
Her reins were still attached, so Rafie led Acker over to a branch sticking out from the log and tied her to it.
“Pull, Acker!” Rafie shouted before she rushed back over to Jesel and guided the log as best she could, forcing the trunk away without causing more damage.
Jesel was in immense pain, he gritted his teeth and balled his fists.
“Stop now girl, that’s enough!” And Acker halted, head shaking to try and get back to Jesel, the log moved. “Wait there, girl, I’ve got to move your dad now!” Rafie bent down to Jesel, wrapped her hands under his armpits and heaved.
Jesel’s colour was poor, and he groaned as Rafie pulled him free. She glanced down, his leg was a mess of blood and mud. Acker began to panic again, so Rafie rushed over to the horse, quickly undoing the bridle from the log, at which point it slammed down heavily into the mud. Acker immediately trotted over, nosing Jesel’s pained face. Rafie hopped over the log and knelt down before the poor farmer. He wasn’t bleeding anymore, but his leg looked broken.
“I can’t help here, we need to get you home. Think with my help you could get on Acker?”
Jesel couldn’t speak from pain but nodded and shifted gingerly.
“Acker,” Rafie gestured and the horse, with silent understanding, knelt and stayed still while Rafie gently manhandled the panting man onto her back. Jesel slumped over Acker’s neck as the horse stood.
“Can you stay on?” Again a nod. Rafie retrieved her stick. “Right let’s go.”
Rafie took the reins and led the group out of the forest. It took longer than Rafie would have liked, Jesel seemed to have lost all strength. When they emerged, Nen was standing with his hat in hand, worry had all but destroyed the felt cap from twisting it in his strong hands. The farmhouse stood a little way beyond him.
“Thank Meval!” He almost jumped with relief as he saw the group, Rafie could tell he’d been standing there, staring into the woods ever since he’d returned with his grandmother.
“We have to get him home. The leg’s broken. He’ll need a wash and some treatment, but especially water and food to get his strength back. He was trapped under a log all night.”
Nen nodded unquestioningly under Rafie’s authority and they started for the big house. when they got close, Nen lifted his grandfather as gently as he could. Jesel hadn’t said a word since he’d been placed atop Acker, Rafie guessed the blood returning to his leg had brought nothing but pain with it. Rafie turned and spotted a young man looking on worriedly in the garden.
“Young Harben, come and take Acker, she needs to be fed, watered and brushed. There’s a good lad.” Harben nodded, wide eyed, and took the reigns. Rrain began to fall, cold drops. “Hurry.” Rafie shot him a quick smile and followed Nen into the farmhouse, which was full of people.
“I’ll get the water.” A young woman with pale hair and a short dress sprung up and rushed out of the room.
“Place him here, Nen, we’ve made up a bed near the fire.” Said Anni. Made up on the hearth rug was a fluffy mattress, with lots of blankets at the ready.
“Let’s get these filthy clothes off first.” Rafie said. The girl had returned and placed the water over the fire.
His tunic was removed and rafie painstakingly cut his pants off with her knife, then Nen lowered him onto the bed. The wounds weren’t too bad and didn’t need to be stitched. With painful prodding and probing Rafie saw with relief that the break, though it would take a few weeks to heal, didn’t need to be set. Rafie worked her healing wordlessly while people bustled behind her, giving her space at Anni’s frantic insistance. Jesel drank water greedily after she was done. Finally, after Jesel was settled into the bed, with his leg bandaged and raised, some colour had returned to his face.
“I’m fine,” he said weakly, trying to push people away. Nobody paid any attention and they fussed over him incessantly, telling him how stupid he was for going into the forest alone, and how glad they were that he escaped with just a broken leg. It seemed the whole village had been roused when Anni had sent out the word that Jesel might be hurt. Jesel and Anni were pillars of the community and had a large family. Nobody knew more about farming within a hundred miles. Relatives and concerned villagers bustled, wanting to show their concern and to ask if they could help. They clapped Rafie on the back, saying how glad they were that their village had someone like her to keep them safe.
Rafie made sure that both Jesel and Acker were getting what they needed then slipped out of the back door. But Anni, who hadn’t left Jesel’s side since Rafie had finished treating him, touched her arm, appearing next to her.
“Thank you.” She was crying again, but with joy this time, a big smile on her face. “Thank you, Rafie.” She gave her a big hug and went back inside.
Rafie teared up, grateful she could bring such happiness and save someone again.
The rain was heavier now, a cold wind was ushering in the evening, as she cut through the forest she was protected from the worst of it.
She walked up the path to her cottage and remembered the egg. She raced inside.
The fire had died long ago, carefully she rebuilt it. Eventually she had enough light to see. The egg still sat in the nest, it was cracked, a green shoot sticking up through a small gap.
“Huh.”

To Be Continued…

I had so much fun writing this part, the story keeps growing! Again we leave off and shall reconvene next Saturday. I hope to see you again.

Going Forward – Notes From J.A.Steadman

This will be my first slice of life post on the site, and it will serve simply as a way for you to get to know me a little bit better. Me and Emma started the site because for many years we have returned time and again to writing – we absolutely love to write and to read and to explore the endless possibilities of things like fantasy, mystery, horror and scifi (well that’s just me, Emma is a fantasy purist).

So throughout all of our adult life, we have been involved in many and varied hobbies; I love to play games, craft things, I have streamed on twitch in the past, I play DnD etc. Lots of interesting hobbies that I love doing, but they aren’t writing – that’s the curious thing about putting pen to paper, even metaphorically, it gets its claws into you to the point that it’s almost impossible to not do it eventually.

The difficulty comes when you have no direction and are so obscure as to render any attempt to get your writing “out there” impossible – that’s really where the site comes in; for a long time we have wanted to make a positive step in that direction, we really wanted to be able to push people to a place where our stuff is just sitting there, easily accessible and categorised so people could pick and choose easily the kinds of things they wanted to read from us.

Eventually we want to grow the site into a community – either writers or people who just enjoy our writing and I personally would like to experiment with making some of my writing collaborative; I did say that I had been on twitch in the past and writing streams would be really fun, especially if I could involve a fanbase.

Anyway, that’s enough for now right off the top of my head, so go and be merry and hopefully the stuff we’re posting here will be interesting enough to you that you follow or in some other way track what we’re doing, because we’ve got some plans and we’re very excited with how things will go in the future.

Thanks for reading!

John.

Change

Change comes slowly, but it does come, if you put in the hard work.
For many, many years I have struggled with my relationship with food. The fact that there’s a relationship at all is a problem, I wish we were just acquaintances. I have always been overweight, I’ve never been healthy. However because I wasn’t ever inconvenienced by being bigger, I could walk around and do various hobbies, I was never motivated to change. But after I turned thirty that changed, I have sore knees, sore back and I grew tired of my decreasing mobility. So finally at the beginning of 2018 John and I embarked on a quest to GET HEALTHY. Since then I have lost four stone (56 pounds) with five stone (70 pounds) more to go. It has not been easy, thirty plus years of bad habits are hard to break.
I’ve been taking pictures of myself to track progress and it seems that was the right move. As it turns out, your body adapts and is very quick to forget. I still feel massive at times, despite how my clothes hang off me. Seeing a recent picture compared to one earlier showed me the progress I’ve made and it reaffirmed my resolve (which had been wavering).
A routine is essential, for me, and that is the same way for writing. For the last week I’ve had a place to write, a time to do it and though I have been struggling with putting words on paper, it has been a great help to have the routine become a pleasant part of my day. My bad writing habits are: doubting my ideas, not carrying on past a few sentences before giving up, or allowing myself to just experiment. But it’s still early, I still slip with food, all habits take a long time to break and form.
If you are struggling with something, if you’ve slipped, don’t let it stop you. One bad day is only one, get back on the horse and record your progress. I promise that it’s worth it.

Thank you so much for reading this little peek into my life. There will be more slices, from both me and John, in the future. So if you enjoyed it (I hope you did) stick with us!

The Fall Of The Hamurai – Part 1 – Blossoms In The Wind

Kusai sat on the steps of the temple, leaning on the hilt of her sword. The cool spring breeze carried flurries of delicate cherry blossoms from high up in the temple orchard, swirling across the wide stairs and lazily down the hill, to where the farmers were tending the rice terraces and leading lines of Dusk Beetles to the pastures ready for the onset of summer. Kusai sighed and was content in that moment; behind her, up the hundred or so steps, sat the imposing Aghtai Pagoda. Her master, Gutoa, would be holding court and giving the attendants a hard time for the slightest error in their strict morning routine while quietly laughing to himself.

All these things made Kusai smile as her eyes roved over the valley that stretched away from the holy hill and out into a wide, glittering harbour. It was their home. Years of hard work had raised it up from barren land and swampy paddies on the sloping sides of a derelict mound of hard clay, to a green and pleasant land in which thousands of people lived comfortably; protected by the swords of the temple-dwellers. The hundred “Hamurai” as they were being called in the provinces, were formed by the wisdom of Gutoa, who had wandered the lands for over fifty years; both defending the weak and bringing justice to tyrants.

Kusai was his first student – Long ago, she followed a trail of destruction for three weeks as he systematically dismantled a fierce bandit ring that was terrorizing a group of villages. It’s leader was a Ferret named Kai-Lang; A legendary warrior whose very presence struck fear into even the twenty-foot tall Tanuki of the mountains. Gutoa fought with Lang for hours after easily dashing his elite bodyguard to the four winds. A silent village had greeted her and a trail of bodies led to a ransacked tavern, the battered door hanging off it’s iron hinges. Cold yellow light of many buckled lanterns spilled faintly out onto the blood-stained porch. Kusai entered and found her prospective master unconscious and barely breathing, his gnarled claws still wrapped around the handle of the bandit-king’s wickedly curved blade which protruded from the matted fur of the ferret’s belly.

She carried him out into the night after picking him bodily up and wresting the crimson knife from his grasp, replacing it with the shattered remains of his own sword which he reflexively clutched to his chest. Rain washed his enemy’s copious blood away but a worrying amount remained as many wounds ran thickly all over the old hamster’s bent frame. Kusai could hardly believe this little rodent, seemingly so frail, had carved such a swath of destruction in his diminutive wake. She looked around, counting twelve bodies in the village square and terrified eyes peering from every window and behind every door.

The people slowly came out; they were mice, hamsters, voles and shrews. All beetle herders, petty craftsmen or grain farmers. Yelling was heard as the apparent tavern keeper grabbed some local men and began hauling bodies out. It was then that the crowd came together. Kusai could hear them whispering: “Could it really be Gutoa the hero?”, while she stood holding this drooping warrior under his arm. Out of it all an old female vole rushed up dragging a litter: a triangular frame of wood meant to carry the injured. She laid the litter beside Gutoa and shouted around, scolding the onlookers for allowing their saviour to stand there, letting his life’s blood drain into the gutters.

Fifteen days passed without him regaining consciousness. The old vole, who was skilled in medicine and whose name was Juki, plied her healing trade as best she knew but the prognosis looked dire. Kusai never left his side, only pacing back and forth from the small straw bed to the door. It rained constantly upon the enormous pile of offerings that the villagers had presented to Gutoa and of which she picked modestly to sustain herself, refusing all the food Juki prepared, instead feeding the thin vegetable broth slowly and carefully to Gutoa, one laborious mouthful at a time.

On the sixteenth night, Kusai could only stare mournfully out into the stormy scene which reflected the tear stains trailing down the fur of her cheeks. A creaking caused her ears to pivot back and her head followed. Over the last two weeks, Gutoa had moved very little, only shifting convulsively from one ragged wound to another. This time however, her eyes widened as they locked onto his. Gutoa, inimitable master of the sword, who had looked so tiny and impossibly frail now held her in an iron grip with those dark eyes. Pain wracked his face, but he was back.

“I have become too old it seems…to go galavanting around the countryside…you followed me all this way, I know…and you became my student the minute I entered that tavern. I will never fight again, but you will.”

Kusai slowly padded across the straw mats and bent to his side, she grasped his outstretched paw, it trembled.

“Master Gutoa, I should not have doubted that you would return to us, but I did. I am sorry.”

The old hamster batted weakly at her paw.

“Fool girl, I am not some immortal spirit…Just good at what I do…it was you who saved my life. We shall rebuild this place…The infestation that plagues these lands shall be driven out by your sword…You will teach me how much good I can do when I trust in others…I have been a fool to wait this long to train an apprentice. Now, I shall sleep the sleep of the living and not the dead. Tomorrow we change the world.”

Kusai opened her eyes to the blossoms floating on the wind, fresh tears streaming down her face as she looked out once again into the valley. She took in the sweet smells of the place that would soon be shattered by what was coming. Ten years had passed, new dangers had arisen, and a shadow loomed over them all.

To be continued.

A Mysterious Egg – Part One

“A-ha!” Swooping a gloved hand into the undergrowth Rafie pulled up a glorius specimen of a Hedgehog mushroom. She admired her treasure for a moment before placing the fungus gently into her basket.
Sunlight streamed through the canopy warming the air, making the afternoon pleasant. Rafie had already filled the small wicker basket, but, enjoying the atmosphere, she carried on around the narrow forest path. Birds chirrped from all around, insects buzzed, her boots crunched fallen twigs. The path snaked around trees, patches of wildflowers released their intoxicating scent into the air. A sleepy peace washed over Rafie.
Some time later Rafie reached the oldest tree in the forest, as large around as her own cottage and taller by many times. Squirrels darted up the tree at her approach, flowers and plants quivered as unseen creatures escaped to their hiding places. Five strides took her right up to the trunk, its deep brown bark was almost smooth, many branches stuck out far above her head, full of deep red leaves. She placed her basket by her feet, after straightening and removing a glove she rubbed her hand over the trunk, a common ritual, bringing comfort to both woman and tree.
For over twenty years Rafie had lived on the edge of the forest, drawn to the area by this tree. Her sensitivity and openess led to a quick friendship and over the years they had become family.
“Do you need anything today, Lady Time?” Rafie closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and listened.
Above Rafie’s head leaves rustled, a branch creaked and something fell with a thud behind the tree trunk into the soft ground.
Slowly Rafie opened her eyes, adjusting back to the light, removed her hand and moved to investigate. Raking her eyes over the ground she searched for the fallen object.
It took only one pass to spot the item, a yellow egg the size of her head. It shone amongst the dark undergrowth. Carefully, Rafie scooped up the egg, it was heavy, cold on her ungloved hand. It was slippery so she cradled it in the crook of her left arm and went back to talk to Lady Time.
“Do you want me to take this somewhere? Look after it?”
Leaves rustled but only those which faced the way back to her cottage.
“Home?” A question, but not really, she could feel the answer, she was to take the egg to her house and wait.
A gust of wind rushed away down the path swaying all the trees.
“I’ll do my best.”
Egg and basket in hand Rafie made her way home, the air cooling.
When Rafie emerged from the forest evening was turning to night, dark blue sky smeared with the reddish pink of the setting sun. Her cottage glimmered in the waning light, smooth white stone topped with dark brown thatch. Her garden expanded around her house, bordered by a low stone wall. Behind her dwelling sprawled a wildflower meadow and far on the horizon a village visible only as a silhouette against the sky.
With her hands full Rafie backed into her door and leaned an elbow down on the handle, the door swung open.
Despite there being no light and the counters being completely covered with plants, bottles, clay sculptures and scraps of cloth, Rafie unerringly placed the egg gingerly on top of a pile of fabric. Turning her back on the egg for the moment she walked over to the wide fireplace, placed the basket of mushrooms next to the pile of logs and set to building a fire.
The fire and candlelight filled the one room cottage with a flickering glow, light bounced off pots and pans, illuminating herbs handing from thick black beams in the ceiling. Dusting off her hands Rafie stood, a great huff of air escaped her as she gazed at the mysterious egg.
“What are you?” She walked around a chair and leaned on the table where the egg now sat.
Rafie wondered whether the egg might want warmth. She picked up the yellow egg, cloth bedding and all, transfered it to the rug in front of the hearth.
Rafie eased herself into a plush armchair, kicked off her boots and pondered the new addition to her home. How long would it be until it revealed itself? She gazed until her eyelids and head grew heavy, still in her walking clothes. In the chair in front of the fire Rafie nodded off, and the egg began to shake.

To Be Continued…

This story is set in a world of my own devising, one in which I plan to set many stories. This particular story was only meant to be a short practise piece, however, as I began writing I realised I wanted to expand it a little. So here we end and next Saturday I will post the next (last?) part. Follow along and see where this takes us!


Rock And A Hard Place – A SciFi Story – Writing Prompt Inspired.

Chief Science Officer Vlarg’s heavy steps resounded on the metal grating of the gangway as she marched hurriedly out onto the main viewing platform. Director Gulurk stood, tentacles held behind her back, looking out from the faint green force bubble which surrounded the criss-cross of scaffolding upon which the platform lay. The stars, which were also tinged green, reflected mystically in her large and beautiful eye. As Vlarg approached, she could see an imperceptible movement in the director’s stance; a flick of her eye downward and across towards her, a carefully hidden flinch that brought her back from whatever far-reaching thought she was previously absorbed in. Gulurk was known for remaining impassive to a fault. Vlarg had always wondered whether her taciturn nature was due to the fact that she was a carefully trained politician who had also served as part of the governmental special forces, or as Vlarg had always suspected: that she held deep and personal secrets hidden far beneath her icy surface.

Vlarg came to a halt a few metres from the director and a heavy silence drew down like a curtain between them. Doubtless the director knew that whenever the Chief Science Officer sought her out, the news was never good and the small data crystal burning a metaphorical hole in Vlarg’s coiled tentacle proved that instinct correct. After letting Vlarg fidget with respectful anxiety for a few minutes, Gulurk finally rounded, and looking through her with a bored expression, she spoke.

“Yes, Chief Science Officer Vlarg?” A tentacle absentmindedly probed into one of the many pockets of her dark long-coat and pulled from it a small silver box.

“I beg your pardon Director, your adjutant was extremely vocal about your wish for solitude – as she always is, but this really could not wait.” Vlarg then brought up the small reddish crystal, its inner glow mingled with the sickly shimmering light around them, dulling the colour of the stone so it appeared to Vlarg like a clot of worry. The director’s gaze flicked impatiently between it and the silver box but it took vlarg a long time to talk; the director was not a person you wanted to give bad news to.

Despite this the director patiently waited, slowly and carefully opening the silver box, then taking a small pinch of a dark substance from within it she touched the fine powder to her nose and instinctively inhaled, her eye never leaving the small crystal.

“You’re going to tell me that the Shudnok have been spotted on The Moon, correct?”

Vlarg’s mouth fell open. “How did you…?”

Without a trace of amusement, the director smiled and closed the little box with a sharp snik. “I have known for weeks. A fleet is on its way from home to deal with them.”

Vlarg was dumbfounded. “You never told me. Why? People have died, Gulurk, we think they have been sabotaging our research. We think they are preparing an invasion force!”

Gulurk laughed condescendingly. “It matters not. This endeavour, though officially sanctioned on paper as a scientific and fact-finding mission about the strange and primitive lifeforms on earth, has always had a much more important, or rather, political goal. The Council are aware of the unique nature of the human species – as you know, they are incredibly warlike, so much so that they rival even the Gahok.”

Vlarg shuddered inwardly at the mention of their species’ greatest enemy. The Dzarr had warred with the Gahok for many centuries and they were a source of almost genetic revulsion amongst their people. The director took note of the shudder and pressed on.

“Yes, indeed, even with the Shudnok on your back doorstep you still react to the great enemy; well so do the council. There are a great many empires among the advanced races in the galaxy. Some of them would work together to better understand the million mysteries recounted by the ancient archivists. Others, like the near-sighted Shudnok, would enact petty campagns of conquest in an attempt to further their immediate goals. Eventually though, all will be consumed by the unquenchable fire of the Gahok hatred for all non-Gahok life.”

Vlarg looked down in confusion and helplessness at the little crystal which, instead of epitomising all her worst fears as a scientist, now represented only another faceless line of data – fully accounted for by the council and their godlike artificial intelligences. She looked up at Gulurk, who was still smiling mirthlessly and anger flashed in her eye as she held out the crystal accusingly. “I have worked tirelessly for days to ensure that all of our data was intact, that the reports my teams have gathered were sound, that I wasn’t going to feed you incorrect information. All because I thought our departments were inseparable and that your time and attention was worth the effort. I thought we trusted each other, and what we were doing here was important; but yet again the political class shows its colours. We’re all just cogs in the machine to you, eh Gulurk?”

The director, who would by rights have been entirely justified in imprisoning the Chief Science Officer for the outburst, merely turned her back and sighed. Vlarg dropped the crystal and stamped on it; a flash of angry red light shone like a beacon for a second. “What has all this to do with the humans? You owe me that much atleast.”

Gulurk wheeled around, now it was her turn for anger. “I owe you nothing. The lives of everyone aboard this station are my responsibility – if you were unable to use your judgement to bring this to me immediately, despite your reservations about my temperament, then that is your affair. I should never have told you, but my affection for you and your hard work over the years tempers the typical demeanour of my office. Have more respect.”

Vlarg withered under the baleful gaze of this creature, who she now realised was entirely alien to her, even though they shared the same mother. “As for the humans; they are a candle in the dark. You can see even now they war amongst themselves – they have only just put flame to chemical powder, creating even the most primitive firearms and yet tens of thousands of them die yearly in pursuit of petty conquest. It never stops and it will never stop with them. Unless they are brought into the galactic community when they are ready.”

Vlarg, though cowed by her sister, could not suppress the rebel inside. “Sounds just like the council to use non-Dzarr lives as a tool to preserve Dzarr supremacy”

Gulurk turned away again. “You know nothing of these matters, they are greater than either of us. Content yourself with your studies sister, now leave me before the arrival of Supremacy Commander Harlorq. The fleet shall rendezvous here before they scour the surface and root out the Shudnok. You would do well to forget all you learned here.”

Director Gulurk said nothing more and did not turn towards her sister again. Vlarg had no other option than to return to the station; the weight of her own obscurity in the face of the Dzarr empire, her own people, would follow her to the end of her days. She would never truly understand the importance of her work on that small base on that small moon.

END

This story was inspired by a writing prompt found on reddit!