And so he did.
I sat hunched over my beer as the Harper made his way to my table, and I didn’t look up as he stood there waiting expectantly.
“Well,” he drawled, “here I am. What can I do for you Vanya oune? I’m a busy man.” At that comment he turned and waved briefly to a comely girl sitting at his table who waved back enthusiastically.
I tried not to smile as I looked up over the rim of my glass and brushed the hair out of my face. There stood the Harper, a slight smile playing about his lips and a look of curiosity in his eyes.
“Not oune, but ouno. Oune is the feminine application of one, and Ouno is the masculine. And where did you learn to speak any words of the Ra’Laraen Ari Harper?”
“Not Harper, Strange One but Donnelly, Greyson Donnelly.” He sat down opposite me and leaned forward over the table, meeting my dark eyes with his pale blue ones. “The reason you are here must be pressing to get you to leave the Vanyamere.”
“I am exiled Donnelly, for there is a rage inside me that cannot be quenched by the laws of my people. I have left the Vanya never to return, and that choice was easy for me: for to stay would have been slow madness, and I have no desire to spend eternity locked in a cage.”
“And so what? You have sought me out to help quench this rage with what, my music? I admit to being a master of the craft so to speak, and there is some truth to the old addage about music soothing the soul of the savage beast, but what other purpose could there be in seeking me out?”
“You know things Harper. And you know this land and it’s people; in particular a man I am looking for. I need a guide and your knowledge. I also believe that it would be in your interest to accompany me.”
“How so” asked Donnelly, his voice taking on a wary tone. “You see how busy I am,” he added with that slight smile as he nodded towards his table.
“How is it you have not asked my name Harper? And you neatly avoided telling me how you know what you do. I am Char’drey Elohirim Kattarian, brother of Arestar Adyamani Kattarian who until recently was wedded to the earther Drogan Bennett, a man of some acquaintance to you.”
The Harper remained silent, but a tightening around his eyes told me I was right about him.
“Drogan left the Vanyamere twice after he wedded my sister, and I think it was to meet with you, Harper. He taught you some of our language and our ways, and I am sure you hold the answers to many of my questions.”
Donnelly sighed. “And why should I help you, lost one? The path you seek will be full of sorrow and non-fulfillment. There is no way to change the past or the choices some have made. Drogan has paid for his past, in more ways then you can ever know, and will trouble the Vanya no more. Why not leave it at that? Your rage will not bring your sister back. It will only consume you even if you get the revenge you seek. Why should I help you with that?”
“For two reasons Harper. I am not seeking revenge on Drogan Bennett, but the man who left him for dead and murdered my sister. And with what they know, they will seek you out as I have to tie up any loose ends, and you Greyson Donnelly are a loose end.”
“Be that as it may Char’drey Kattarian, I can take care of myself. I cannot help you with your problem.” He stood up. “Do not follow this path, elos ouno. Make your peace and return to your people.” With that he packed up his instruments and left the inn.
All Ears [Pt. 1]
“I’d like an ale,” I said.
The serving girl just stared unmoving like a block of ice. Everyone was staring, but I was used to it. I was big, hard-muscled and wore my dark hair unfettered. Then there were the ears. This girl was pretty for a change and looked young and clean. Very fetching. I lowered my voice and spoke softer.
“I’d like an ale, please.”
The girl unfroze, but only a little. She blinked. This could take awhile, but before I could speak again a loud voice from the other side of the room screamed,
“Sharina, move your ass!”
This got the girl moving and she curtseyed slightly and stammered out, “Right away sir.” She then hustled away breaking the moment, and the babble of conversation picked up volume.
The man I was looking for was not here. There was only the usual bunch of patrons you saw in most any inn: a table full of men playing cards, a group throwing darts, another dicing and a few scattered loners sitting at tables eating or cradling drinks. But it was early and even though the Harper was not in evidence there was a small stage and I knew he would arrive sometime soon. I had plenty of time to wait.
Sharina came back with the beer, and I handed her a silver coin and told her to keep them coming. Her eyes were still wide and her lips pouty, and her ample breasts rose and fell in a way that signified either fear or excitement. I would rather think that it was the latter. Not that I’m full of myself mind you, but after all there’s nothing wrong with a little ego. I took a swig of beer and it was a fair brew.
“Will that be all ... er,”
“Char.” I said softly. “Call me Char.” It was a shortened version of my full name, but I didn’t see much use in giving the whole thing to her.
“Will that be all, Mister Char?” she asked again.
“For the moment,” I answered, then added: “When does your Harper usually arrive?”
“Old Donnelly? Uh, it varies Mr. Char. Sometimes he gets here early and sometimes late. Or sometimes not at all, if he um, has a lady friend or drinks too much the night before.” She colored slightly and added, “I hope that was helpful, Mister Char.”
“Just Char,” I said absently as the girl scurried away to help a couple of the dart players who were clamoring for another round of ale.
I was on my fifth glass when Donnelly walked in. I knew it was the Harper by the cased instruments he carried about his person. Sharina’s description of him as old did not quite hit the mark, although his hair was white as bleached bone. His face was tanned and young looking, strikingly so in contrast to the white hair. As he passed my table I caught his pale blue eyes quickly taking me in, and it was so subtle that I wasn’t sure if he had even noticed me at all. I saw there were lines about the eyes that told of age, but his forehead was smooth and his chin firm with just a bit of jowls showing. But Drogan had made a couple of points about the man that were now drilled deep by that nonchalant glance that I was now sure he had given me. The Harper was more than he seemed, much more. With that in mind I settled in my chair and chuckled a bit. I couldn’t wait to hear the music.
Donnelly played three sets, and to my surprise the place filled up with people that came from the Guardians only knew where in a small village like this one. In between the sets he was practically doted upon by every pretty girl in the place. He did some magik tricks for them, juggled and threw daggers with a skill that made everyone sit up and take notice. With all those women hanging about him, I could see how he might miss a night or two of playing a week, and I chuckled to myself again. I liked him already.
I had moved to a dark corner of the common room so as to not distract the Harper’s audience, and Sharina kept the beers coming. The music was good and for a time I laid my troubles aside and listened to tales and drinking songs and love ballads from a master storyteller of this strange and frightening world.
When Donnelly finished the last set the coins fell thick upon the stage, and I flipped a gold piece onto the mounting pile. The gold piece got me a direct look and a nod, and I knew then I would not have to seek him out: he would come to me.
Azoth The Promise of:
DARK ELVIN: PROLOGUE
They came from far away and we welcomed them in peace. Through the void of space they piloted their ship until they found us. How it happened, I still don’t know. There were only seven of them, and I underestimated how much they could do with so few of their race. It is true that they recruited many of our people to help them, and we gladly gave our time and resources to build the gate. And then it was done, and they said their farewells and returned in their ship to sail back to their own world. They had told us one thing to do and that we did. We waited.
Many years passed before we saw the green crystal on the gate’s control panel begin to glow. All we had to do they said, was key in a sequence of numbers which they had left with us, and the gates would be open between worlds. It was all very simple, really. Many of my people were excited at the prospect of what the gate offered: a chance to see another world. I was not so sure. We did not really know these beings all that well; and though their machines were wondrus, they were so very alien to us.
And so a council was called and I voted to hold off for awhile, but I was only a small voice is a great sea of voices that were eager to see what was on the other side of that gate. I felt heavy in my heart, and prepared myself for the unknown. It was the first time I had ever experienced such unsurety, and for me it was end of everything I had ever been.
Against some of our protests they opened the gate between worlds and many of us were forced through. There was no consultation, no choice to be made and we could not reverse the damage that had been done. You see, when that Tel Door was opened, both worlds were thrown out of balance: but not right away. Ours was a world of magik; while this other world, this terra-Earth, was a world of machines. We were met by “men of peace” as they called themselves, descendents of the ones who had come to our world in that strange ship. With their help we built many doors, because unknown to us the magik of my world was creating a new balance between the worlds of KaLaraen and terra-Earth, and it laid the wundaeri [the compulsion] on us.
My race built our own door (as many others did) matched by doors on the other side, for many came through from that other world, as compelled as we were. But we did not choose who went through the gates, it was the magik that chose, the very essence of KaLaraen, and it divided family and friends. When I walked through the gate into this world, this terra-Earth, something happened to me that I never before experienced. I got angry. Like the effects of the magik on this world it did not happen right away to be sure, and for awhile I made the best of my new home.
We called ourselves the Vanya: or strangers, but in the tongue of these people we were creatures of magik and they named us Elvin.
Hello all. In addition to working on "The Promise of Azoth," I recently started another story called Blizzard. It takes place in North Dakota, and is about a family (of three) who go to see a sick relative and get caught in a blizzard. In the middle of this, they stop to help some men in distress who turn out to be robbers who have just pulled a Casino Job in nearby Devil's Lake. The crooks car was damaged and they have run out of gas from a bullet hole in the gas tank. This is a real change for me, and as you see I've already done some story art and have pretty much the entire book worked out. I'm shooting for a novel, instead of novella's like I've written in the past. The Promise of Azoth is actually four novellas that take place about 100 years apart. But it tells the essential story of Galen Brandis, where he comes from and how the Sword of Azoth was made and what shaped him as a character, and why he is how he is in the great war that takes place in his future...
