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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Creativity Forum --> Personal Creations --> Nothing remains...dead...
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RDI Staff
Karma: 36/1
171 Posts

Audalis Tales: Nothing Remains Dead

Fast becoming a common sight, the guards of the simple wooden gate allowed travellers through. One after another, they wandered to their makeshift post, chattered about the weather and what not, and made their way within. At times, they had a bit of excitement... lads letting pigs loose into their lunches, the angry rancher shaking a fist over the loss of said pig, perhaps the shy thin robed gent who was not sure why they arrived but felt what they called...a calling.

Yet by the word and rule of the city proper, they had to take every name and their stated business. The world had fast become a dangerous thing. And after the rumbling of the priests and that group that had stayed the winter, why, they knew better than to question.

It was then they saw the stooped figure pushing a cart making their slow way up. Leaning on a cross bar, wide brimmed hat pulled low, stumbling along, the figure seemed a oldster or perhaps one of those ailing folks come to beg of the priests.

Johanson shivered at that thought. Sickness was the last thing they needed in the relative peace. "You there! Stop and give us yer name and business!" He hoped the gruffness of his voice dulled the bit of a fear over lepers that was springing to mind.

"Blow it out 'cher hole!" The voice was rough as granite rubbed together. As bad as Kordish music on a good day.

The other guards...well...the one other, perked and came to stand by the sputtering Johanson. "Pardon, sir, but you'll state your journey and name or we'll send you to the garrison."

The hackish voice murmured.

With an audible sigh, the poppingjay commander moved closer. "Pardon, I didn't catch---"

The first axe came up within a hair of slicing into the guard's throat. The second tapped the codpiece that protected what manhood remained after his girlish yelp.

But those eyes, he couldn't forget. And who could? Every man worth his salt in the barracks had faced them over ales and cards, across the pells during practice.

"I said, blow it out 'cher hole." A cough and whimper slipped from the covered cart. "Shh shh, see what 'ya did now? Get outta my way."

Slipping the axes back under the ragged grey cloak, Johanson waved off the other junior guard.

"What, you letting that cur into the township? Be ye daft?"

With a hard look and tight shake of head, Johanson watched the woman make her way past the gate.

"Kiz...she's home..."

Posted on 2006-11-15 at 11:39:52.
Edited on 2006-11-16 at 14:21:34 by Yanamari

RDI Staff
Karma: 36/1
171 Posts


"The way of magic sometimes best considered as a weave of tapestries... quilts?" That finally sparked eyes. Cornelius sometimes forgot that the most gifted seemed to spring from folk not quite expected. And this plow hand that accidentally set fire to his mule by yelling so hard to shake mountain would not rightly understand the more difficult subjects without dumbing it down. Father Albelard frowned upon it; then again, Abelard was from the cities and some kingdom with odd ideas of teaching all folk numbers and letters. If everyone could read, would not their hidden and safe center of learning come under danger?

Shaking off his thoughts, he continued the lecture to the not so attentive plow hand who was aiming into his nose for some new root to dig out. With a sigh from his boots, he motioned the lad to leave.

Taking up his pipe, Cornelius stared in disgust at his forgetfulness. The weed had burnt to nothing with only a couple puffs enjoyed. "If I am not careful, I will burn a hole through this thing..."

A slamming of door drifted up with a soft roar to his sitting place. Brows rustling upward, he watched the open library door, awaiting to next angry visitor with yet another issue of getting lost in the woods or some beast seeming to blink in and out of existance.

But what greeted his eyes sent his pipe to slipping free of fingers to clatter on the floor.

"Did it work?"

Kiz nodded gruffly, a young boy of only a few turning of seasons, yawning in her arms. "It better have. I'm tired of what you call repayin' debts meaning my hide on the line."

Huffing, he bent to retrieve the pipe.

"Just cause the others scattered to the winds, an' I was the igit that came back to return your thanks, dun' mean you can just have me cater your whims."

Grinning at his shoes, he rose and nodded. "Cater to whims? Ah finally you are seeking finer learning."

The snort and rubbing of nose, akin to what her son was doing, proved otherwise.

"Well. Tell me of it. you say...mess of it." With a clap, acolytes brought in platters of cheese and meats, a pitcher of water, and a small stool for the lad.

Dropping her packs to the ground, she sunk into a chair. Small hands reached out to her, the silent boy begging to be held. With a short tender look, the gruff woman slipped the boy to her knee. Never missing a beat, she slipped a beautifully embroidered bit of cloth from her bracer to clean the dust of the road from the boy's face.

"I reckon you expect my news to be bad.'s a might bit worse." For a moment, she met the wizard's eyes, then returned to her work. He could swear the cornflower blue of Kiz's eyes teared up for the briefest of moments.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, something used between guards at a fire. "Sendria is moving. When in Davnor, something the folk said they had never seen...happened. A ship left the isle, Cor. Left and arrived spilling forth a host of warriors and robed folk the likes I've never seen. But despite the folk all turning into scared childer speaking of ghosts, I laid my eyes on the vanguard."

The boy on her lap sucked at his bottom lip, eyes inquisitive as if understanding it all. "Men. They were just men. But their commander, he had eyes of the dead. He won't stop for oldsters, women, and babes unless to take their throats. Funny thing is...they didn't hitch up companies and ride for our borders like I expected."

A hand laid on Kiz's, seeking her look. Cornelius stood closer now, whispering as well, eyes filled with a curious dread. "Where?"

"Northly and west in Sendria. To a land...where the dead walk."

What he mumbled she could not place. But she knew that look. Sighing at her son, who motioned with his hands, she nodded. "I'm sorry my treasure. We'll be hitting the road again."

Grinning wide, he clapped. "I take after me more and more, my little Tobe."

Posted on 2006-11-16 at 13:36:45.
Edited on 2006-11-16 at 13:40:25 by Yanamari

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