Tags:
Science-Fiction,
adventure,
Fantasy,
series,
Epic,
Poetry,
Novel,
Apocalyptic,
heroic,
quest,
new author,
poetic,
lyrical,
comedic,
episodic
and
buttered themselves. And so the ale girls made it rain. The lunch
ladies launched their gravy train. “Time to serve!” the battle cry.
All mustered to join the food fight.
“Later, tots!”
“Wait! We’ll catch up!”
They peppered the pathway to the tent, tray
after tray assaulting it. A barrage of meatballs and deviled
eggshells such as the stranger had never seen.
“If I weren’t the turkey, I’d call this
Thanksgiving.” John Cap wasn’t kidding.
Somewhere in the midst of that moveable
feast, three brothers fought earnestly just to make headway.
“Hurry Ayron!”
“You’re falling behind.”
“I’m doing… my best… Ayr…”
“There’s no time.”
“Arrowborne needs us,” huffed Pyr.
“And soon!”
“Before there’s death in the afternoon…”
Somehow they rose to the challenge again,
these sons of Hurx, though not yet men. They met the canvas in
nothing flat and bulled their way right through it.
The three Mynes arrived at the door just
behind them but, unlike the boys, were barred by the Guard.
“Hold there elderman! Not so fast — only the
Treasured of Treasured may pass.” The doorman waved a parchment
skin clutched tightly in his unarmed hand. “The Treasuror’s left a
special list and your name isn’t on it.”
Minyon bowed to the ardent Guard as if he’d
expected every word. “Good soldier, I thank you for your service.
Of course I would expect no less.” His voice rolled out in a velvet
fog, thick as the drunk from a keg of grog.
Axon and Eela prowled in the background,
awaiting a sign, their father’s command. Two trained attack dogs,
canines Myne, minding their master from behind.
All of a sudden Minyon squinted and peered
deep into the doorman’s eyes.
“I sense, brave lad, that your mother’s
unwell… the belly… an infestation, is it?”
“Uh… yes sir. She’s got the hellworms.”
“Yes, and a nasty case of them. I can all but
feel your pain myself, the anguish of watching her waste away.”
“Worse every day,” the pikesman croaked. “The
herber says there is no cure.”
Minyon pressed his palms together. “Fear not.
Tonight I shall pray for her. If I have your faith, my son, she’ll
recover.”
“Thank you, elderman. But I still can’t…”
“You’re doing your job. I understand.”
“Brother Treasuror’s orders,” he
whispered.
Then, like some crow’s cry, a voice of
authority cawed out disturbing the midmorning air.
“What seems to be the trouble here?!”
The voice belonged to Madam Pum, eldest of
the elderwomen and great matriarch of the settlement Keep. Her
ancient face was full of furrows, creases made deeper by a frown
that showed how unamused she was.
The flustered sentry was slow to respond.
Dame Pum did not wait for an explanation.
“Guard! This man is a full-honored elder, the
best and the brightest of our rising stars. You’d be well advised
to learn your place and show him due regard!”
“Yes ma’am. But…”
But she would not hear excuses. Her frown
only deepened. She went on.
“Know too that he serves as my advisor,
confidant, and right-hand man and has from the moment of his
appointment, now two eventful fortnights ago. Imagine — just one
month of moons since anointment and who among us has his gifts? The
kingly instinct, the wizardly wisdom, the vision of a holy man.”
She shook her crooked cane at him. “None but this soul, lowly
doorman, elderman Minyon Myne…
“And now, if I am not mistaken, you’ve found
that name at the top of your list.”
“It was there all along, ma’am.”
“That’s more like it!”
Minyon bent one knee to the ground and gently
took hold of Madam Pum’s hand. He kissed the ring on her wrinkled
finger then bowed his head as if to be knighted.
“I am humbled, Lady Pum, by these honors you
lavish so freely upon me — and all the more by your company, given
how sweet it is.”
The old woman giggled, a gleam in her eye.
“Rise, dear