"Powerful
(indeed) are the winds of fate.
Powerful
(also) are the winds of mischance.
Often, these
two collide (in an ever repeating cycle)
of birth
and destruction. Accept this, such as it is,
such is
the nature of the chords. Sadly, however,
it seems
that it is all too often the Suchinai
who are
(fated to suffer the most) when these winds meet."
A'kithas'elem Golorad
FAREN: A Dragon’s Tale
Episode 2
---------------------------------------------------------------------
CAPTION
Height of the 15th century since Lur,
In a refugee
tent on the outskirts the city of Lende,
a once proud
scion of the frontier now bathed in fire,
A second glimpse into the future . . .
Hysterical cries rising in a wave among countless injured are like
a singular,
piercing knell as a boy’s body slumps lifelessly to the floor.
As a red
pool begins to expand from beneath his form, his fingers still
clutch desperately
at the robes of the young ilif that has become, seemingly,
his unwary
executioner. . . Around them, chaos erupts, as those who are still
able struggle
to claw their way through the immobile wounded to the exits,
only to
be held at bay by guardsmen that struggle to retain some semblance of order
. . .
Wthin seconds, the paralysis-inducing effect of the horror of the situation
loses
its hold
. . . and the singular, numbing thought left screaming in the hapless young
girl's mind
is, ironically, voiced by the captain of the local guard who stands
not 3 paces
away . . .)
Captain: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?
Girl: I . . . I . . . I don’t . . .
(The girl does not complete her sentence as the cold steel of a guantleted
hand
grips her
wrist, wrenching her away with a jolt, and hesitating little before
hurling
her roughly to the floor . . . )
Captain:
(shouting) You! Take her outside, and get rid of her! Quickly!
Seargeant, bring the doctor!
Girl: I don’t understand . .the . . . the blade . .. Oh Shit . . .
(The Ilif girl is seemingly doubly dumbfounded, by both the unreality of
the
current
course of events, as well as the dizziness that still lingers her in the
wake of
her fall . . .It is when the sounds of men wading through the chaotic
ranks alight
to her sensitive ears, however, that she finds the resolve to shake
this vertigo
free . . .)
Girl: It’s not too late!!
(To the furthered
surprise of the troop captain, she rises to her knees, pulling
the dagger
forcefully from the boy’s chest. Relieved of the inward pressure
of
the blade,
the wound begins to gush freely--erupting blood in
rhythmic
spurts driven by the child's still pounding heart . . .)
Girl: It should not have entered!!
Captain: Get away from the child!!!
Girl: No, wait!!
(The girl’s protest goes unnoticed as two pairs of armored hands wring
her
shoulders,
pulling her forcefully to her feet. . . the guards barely manage to
retain their
grip, however, as the girl struggles with all her might--
writhing
madly and shouting at the top of her lungs . . . )
Girl: (screaming) LET ME GO!
Captain: So help me, I’ll have you put down right HERE, girl!
Girl: I can help him, I swear - I made a mistake now let me right it! IT WAS A MISTAKE!
(Unfazed by her plea, the Captain turns to one of his subordinates--a wide-eyed
Lieutennant
who, like his companions, stands partially transfixed by the situation
that
has asserted
itself within the last 45 seconds. . .)
Captain: Get her out of here! Take her to the edge of the camp and --
Girl: I’m telling the truth!!
Captain: Where is the Doctor?!
Girl: LISTEN TO ME!!!
Captain: Be QUIET!
Girl: LET me try!!! If I don’t save him you can kill me anyway!
---------------------------------------------------------------------
FAREN:
A Dragon’s Tale
Episode 2: "Burn"
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Caption:
Eighty
years ago . . .
(A bright midmorning sun shines down upon a small, ramshackle cottage
on the outskirts
of the city of Glenden. The house is humble, to say the least,
marked from
the rest by the decaying remnants of a windmill atop its tall roof,
little more
than a pen for animals on its eastern exterior, and a small barn which
lies adjacent
to keep the livestock. . . it is here, in the small sectioned-off area
among the
chickens, pigs,
and odd goat, that the diminutive figure of a small boy stands . . .
The child--who is now only slightly more sensibly dressed in a drab olive
tunic and pants
which are yet too big for him, watches with a strangely fixed
interest at
the chickens which paw and scratch at the ground about his feet.
Though he is
a relatively sizable intruder in the very center of their holding
pen, they continue
to feed as if oblivious to his presence altogether;
unaware or
uncaring of his odd fixation on their behavior.
It is a feeling that this boy has become strangely comfortable with,
in the week
or so since first stepping foot on Glendenium soil.
Of all the creatures moving about the small pen there is one, though,
which remains
rooted in place. A small goat which stands a safe distance
away from the
interloper, staring at him with what he can only discern as
being a pair
of fearsomely fixed eyes--if the expression of such an animal
could be called
such, he muses. With a sigh, the child recounts that it is
this same distance
that the animal has maintained between them both for
the past hour,
despite the boy's best attempts to come closer to complete
his assigned
task. Warily now, he glances down at the empty wooden bucket
hanging loosely
from the fingers of his left hand--and nearly jumps out of his
skin, an instant
later, at the sound of a voice from inside the house calling loudly. .
)
Aerianna: Boy!
Boy: . . .!
Aerianna: Boy! Did you finish getting the milk?
Boy: I . . . haven’t.
Aerianna: not yet?? Why not?
Boy: It . . . won't let me go near.
Aerianna: What are you talking about?! Whoa--
(The girl is cut off as the clatter of falling pans carries from the open
window
of the cottage,
immediately followed by a string of muffled curses.
A moment later, Aerianna Goodtree's bedraggled young face appears at
the window
. . .)
Aerianna: What do you mean it won’t let you?? you ARE trying to milk the GOAT, right??
Boy: Your 'goat' won't let me!
(Aerianna's head shakes once in frustration before it disappears from
the window
entirely, and for a moment, the boy can hear only the sound
of the puttering
livestock at his feet. Finally, the front door of the house
opens, allowing
a very impatient looking ilif to step outside.
Turning around the east side of the structure, Aerianna roughly pulls loose
knot in the
small rag holding her hair back, glaring at the boy as intently as
he remains
in place, watching her chickens . . )
Aerianna:
What are you doing playing with the chickens?
You were supposed to get the milk for today!
Boy: It is not my fault, Aerianna! The animal inside won’t allow me near it.
Aerianna:
(laughing) Honestly, Boy, when I took you in last week
I expected you to be difficult . . . new ones always
are . . .but gawking at my animals
is a whole new level of foolishness . . .
Boy: Why is it foolish? I told you it’s afraid of me.
Aerianna:
How can something as small as you scare Hilde?
You didn't try to spook her, did you?
Boy: !? No . .
(The child starts, looking at the Ilif with surprised eyes . . .
The girl’s callousness about the subject, however, soon alludes
him to the
proper way to react . .)
Boy: what is that suppose to mean . . . ?
Aerianna: You’re a weird one. Plain and simple.
Boy: . . .
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(The rest of the morning goes on without consequence, as the ilif gathers
the rest of
the ingredients for what will constitute that day’s breakfast. Soon,
the smell of
cooking bread and the hiss of an iron teakettle that has come to boil
fill the compact
space of the cozy kitchen nestled in the corner of the small house.
Seated in the
main room which lies adjacent, meanwhile, the stranger that the young
woman has come
to refer to as, simply ,'boy', watches curiously the girl darting back
and forth between
the stove and the cupboard. He notes the particular caution
with which
the ilif handles a certain spice bag; taking care to withdraw only the
most minute
amount to mix into the now howling pot of tea . . .
The interior of the house stands as a stark contrast to the somewhat
haggardly exterior:
a well furnished
little hovel lies to be found within, with woven chairs and a strong oak
table
occupying the
largest of the three rooms. On the walls, warm accents such
as hanging quilts
covered with
blessings written in the intricate runeforms of the Ilif dialect decorate
the otherwise
drab woodgrain.
Among the illuminations, an ornate, hewn bow sits mounted above the
mantleplace,
its smooth surface marred by residual soot from the fireplace below, bespeaking
many years
of disuse . . .
Wincing at the heightened pitch of the teapot, Aerianna removes the kettle
from its place on
the stove,
causing the wail coming from its small spout to fade and fall like a dying
wind.
It is only
when the ringing in her ears subsides, then, that she takes notice of a
familiar inquiry
coming from
her young visitor . . .)
Boy: Tell me again, what do you do in this city?
(Frowning, the girl turns without answering. . .)
Boy: Well?
(Aerianna grunts, straining to reach a wooden cup on the topmost shelf near the window . .)
Aerianna:
(breathlessly) Do you have absolutely no memory whatsoever?
I told you before. Twice. I’m a shamen. Pay attention.
Boy: That's not very specific.
(sighing, the girl pauses, facing the inquisitive youngster . . )
Aerianna:
Well, if you didn't know, you should have just said so.
"Shamen" is a southern term for a one who heals.
I'm well practiced with . . herbs . . roots and tonics. Things like
that.
It makes business easier in a city such as this, when you ascribe to
the terms used by the rest of the people . . .no matter how ignorant they
may be.
Think about it. Why did you think I was examining you in the street?
Boy: Well . . .
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(Meanwhile . . . in a peak high above the world, near the inner rim of
the collection
of geologic
spires that encircle the central peaks of the mountain known as Echelon
. . . )
Nara: My lord, you are enraged! Please, to leave now would be too brash-
Oryn: Time is of the essence. To hesitate would only worsen the damage already being done. . .
Nara: He is a foolish child, yes! But, perhaps, entitled to make a mistake at so young an-
Oryn:
Edict forbids leaving our sacred home. To consort with the Suchinai is
the greater offense,
the cost of its misdeed taught to hatchlings from the very moment they
crawl from their mother’s
nests. You know, as well as I, this is a trespass not
so easily forgiven. If he is among the lower
ones, then he has done so knowing full well the punishment his actions
entail.
Nara: But he is your son . . .
Oryn:
The fact that he is my child does not render the consequences of his crime
in his favor. . . Rather, the
council may demand the contrary . . .
Nara: NO!
Oryn: You have allowed your love for him to blind you, Wife!
Nara: My child will NOT BE MADE AN EXAMPLE OF!
Oryn: The decision is not mine. It lies with Voth and the others . . .
Nara: Of which you are one. You reside upon the council, you can sway them to favor a more lenient action-
Oryn: ENOUGH!!
(The shout is enough to be heard from outside the dreary, gray catacomb
that is
the home of
Oryn and his mate . . . subjugated once more, the female falls silent,
turning her
eyes to the stone floor . . . it is with slow, deliberate speech
that Oryn presses on . . .)
Oryn:
(Darkly) Never again will you tender such thoughts, in my presence or otherwise.
Our law has never been so unstable as it is now . . . and you. . . you
beg me to offset this delicate balance even more by undermining it.
I, who resides
on the very council of eight planes itself? I am more subject to
our laws than any other!
What you propose is madness. . .
Nara: . . .
(Not a word falls from her lips, as the larger male casts an unbroken gaze upon her. . .)
Oryn: Once night has fallen, I shall leave.
(Beneath the scowl of her mate, Nara finds herself compelled to do no more than nod.
As he lumbers toward the cave exit, Oryn utters coldly to the female whose head, now, sits humbly bowed )
Oryn: I shall retrieve my son.
(With these final words, the dragon disappears into the tunnel leading
toward the grotto's exit . . .
Amoment passes,
before Nara raises her eyes.
She is not entirely silent, however, as she dutifully follows behind .
. .
cursing her
invalidity , quietly, under her own breath . . .)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Boy: Is-isn’t that how people do it?!
Aerianna:
(laughing) NOT like that, boy. I don’t know where you get your info
on the wind and the rain, but I'd be long dead before I do
ANYTHING like that with a kid like you. You’re one-sixth my age for
goddess’ sake.
Boy: . . .
Aerianna:
Funny thing, that. Usually I get a look of shock from people when
I divulge my age . . .
it's not something ilif hold in high significance, but it seems important
to your people . .usually . . .
(He begins to speak, then thinks better of it, nodding complacently.
Aerianna wipes
her eyes, finally retrieving the cups from the cupboard. . . )
Aerianna:
Look, now that that nasty bit of business is out of the way,
do you think you can tell me your name?
Boy: Don't have one.
Aerianna:
Do you honestly expect me to believe, in this day and age,
that a child of your age has no name at all? Don't you trust me?
What, are you afraid I might steal your soul?
(The child is unusually quiet, glancing from the girl, to the simmering tea that has been placed before him.
Slapping her forhead once, Aerianna retracts . .)
Aerianna: I'm not going to steal your soul.
Boy: It doesn't matter, I really don't know what to tell you.
Aerianna: You know, I could be deaf and dumb and STILL tell you were lying. . .
Boy: How?
Aerianna: For one, I can tell you aren’t as stupid as you claim to be.
Boy: I don't claim to be stupid!
Aerianna:
And two, you’re too young to have been any real harm to anyone.
You ARE naïve, and I will attest to that.
Boy: . . .
(The ilif sips her tea, leaning back in her seat . . )
Aerianna: Well? We can let this little game continue, or you can spill it. It's your choice.
Boy: spill . . it? Are you sure?
Aerianna: If I wasn’t, would I be asking you yet again?
Boy: I guess not . . .
Aerianna: Okay then.
Boy . .very well . . .
(With these words, the boy upends his cup--spilling its contents on the
table . . .
much to the
girl's displeasure . . .)
Aerianna: HEY! That's my table!!
Boy: You told me to "spill it!"
Aerianna: I didn’t mean your tea, boy!! It was a figure of speech!
(As the girl hastily mops up the liquid with a rag, she eyes the boy, shaking her head. . .)
Aerianna: I take it back, maybe you ARE as stupid as you look!
Boy: . .
(Yet, as the ilif descends from her chair, mumbling a string of curses
under her breath
as she catches
errant drops of the rogue liquid with her kerchief before they hit the
floor,
she does not
see the child steal a glance . . . nor the almost sly look of relief
that flashes
momentarily
on his face . . . )
(Suddenly, however, the girl freezes in place--her head rising slowly,
almost as if
impelled by some unseen influence. . .)
Aerianna: A runner?
Boy: huh . . .?
(the girl silences the boy with a wave of her hand, turning her attention to the front door . . .)
(It is a full moment before the child can hear it himself--the sound of
a quickened
stride, muffled
by the walls of the young ilif's abode. . .
Dropping the rag to the floor, Aerianna rises to her feet, squinting
as she gazes
cautiously
out the small eastern window...)
Aerianna: (whispering) can't be a messenger . . he's going too fast, and he's not pacing himself . . .
Boy: you were expecting someone?
Aerianna: Shh! no . . .
(Another moment passes. Goodtree's expression is a mask of sheer
suspicion as the
footsteps grow
louder . . .
Then, with a start, the girl seems to snap into recognition--pulling open
the front door.
The shrill,
sonorous metal creek that the aged portal makes as it yawns wide open is
enough to cause
the boy to jump from his seat with a yelp . . .)
Voice: (shouting) Goodtree!! MISS GOODTREE!!
Aerianna: I’m coming!
Voice: Shamen, you have to help!
Aerianna: Calm down--Mr. Boyle, isn't it? What’s happened?!
(Unsure of the nature of this new visitor , the boy remains fixed in place,
watching carefully
at the conversation that unfolds between his host and this new interloper
.
The man is young, no older than twenty and dressed in heavy cotton worker's
clothes sparsely
caked with mud. Dried bits of dirt cover his face and hands as well,
crumbling and
falling off in pieces as he rests his hands on his knees. With
several thirsty
gasps, he attempts
to simultaneously catch his breath while explaining the situation to the
ilif . . .)
Boyle:
(panting) Outside the town- . . .one of the farmhands . . . he’s been hurt
. . .
We were digging a ditch to irrigate the northern fields--to offset
the drought-- when we heard him scream . .
(Grabbing a small bag placed beside the door with, the elf’s expression becomes very, very sober)
Aerianna: How bad is it?!
Boyle:
It was one of the traps, set out for digra.
He tripped it while looking for one of his oxen.
(Aerianna scowls, the young man's sense of urgency creeping into her own blood . . .)
Aerianna: (snarling) trappers and their damned snares! Let me get my things--!
(The ilif closes the door part way, reaching for a leather satchel suspended
from a
hook on the
wall . . .)
Aerianna: Okay, let's go . .
Boyle: This way . . .
(The girl takes one step over the threshold, before coming to a halt--shooting
a
look to the
young boy still standing at the foot of the table, and announcing curtly
. . )
Aerianna: Boy! Stay here and don't touch anything!
Boyle: Come on . . .!
( The ilif affords herself one last glance before shutting the heavy wooden door behind her.
For a few seconds, the sounds of their voices can be heard on the other
side--muffled again
by the house's
thick exterior. Driven curious beyond his remaining control, the child
uproots
himself from
the spot where he stands, stepping nimbly toward the portal even as the
voices
begin to fade
. . .)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(Meanwhile, upon the lofty cliffs of mount echelon . . . betwixt
the rocky spires and jutting, needle-like
formations
which stab through the sky like stony spears,in the furthest reaches of
a grotto not dissimilar to
the one belonging
to Oryn and his mate, two occupants take refuge in the cool shade. . .
The first is the lithe figure of a young female, her features are
not far removed
from those
of her mother, save for a vast difference of age bemeaned by the
soft color of her scales. . .)
Vasha: I hope father will not be too hard on him.
(From behind her, another voice--that belonging to the second of the two
dragons--
echoes from
the darkness beyond. . .
This one, like that of his sister, is younger than that of his elder counterpart,
but at the same time,
its timbre
many years older than Vasha’s . . .)
Paern: If he is punished, it will be his own foolish actions that bring it upon him.
Vasha: How can you say that, Paern? He is our brother . . .
Paern:
He is your clutchbrother, not mine. We share some mote of our
father's blood, perhaps--but I doubt even that.
Rather, it would seem that his runs thin, much like your mother’s.
Vasha: (indignantly) Shut up . . .
(Vasha does not budge as her brother’s Azure form emerges from
the shadows,
his eyes locked calmly upon the light streaming from the entrance of the
cave . . .)
Paern: You would be wise, sister, to heed my words.
Vasha: (sarcastic) Is that a threat?
(Paern does not respond. He merely gazes at his sibling, considering
for a moment
what may lay
beyond her unusually confrontational disposition, before lumbering toward
the exit . . .)
Paern:
It is fact. Think about it carefully, for Faren never has.
Look at what he has done already:
taken a foolish risk in the name of . . curiosity.
(The dragon seems to spit this last word out like a morsel of rotten food,
his voice rife with
disgust at
the very concept . . . Unnerved, Vasha diverts her eyes to the cave floor
. . .)
Paern: . . .You and I know what awaits him. Though . . .
Vasha: . .?
Paern: A part of me cannot help but wonder . . . Did he speak to you, before he left?
Vasha: . . .
Paern:
As clutchmates, I would expect no less. Did he regail you of his
plan?
Of the wonders he expected to see? Were you privy to the mad light in his
eyes?
(As Paern's tone grows more and more mocking in his discourse, Vasha finds
herself
unable to keep
from mentally affirming her brother's words. Her errant sibling's
anticipation,
his ideal nature . . the piercing nature of his stare . . .)
Vasha: . . .I was privy to nothing.
(The elder dragon tries to read the girl's expression as she says this, then turns away, perhaps dissapointed . . .)
Paern: Rubbish.
Vasha: . . .
Paern: To be perfectly honest . . .
Vasha: What?
(At the threshold of the cave, the serpent turns, wearing an eerie
smile upon
his lips. Indeed, if this did not already send a chill racing through
his sister’s
heart, the
way he relishes his next words, would. . .)
Paern: I will be surprised if the council does not decide to simply take his wings, and be done with him.
Vasha: (horrified) How could you suggest such a thing!?
Paern: (turning
away) How could I what? Merely state the truth? How can
YOU
question
it?
His imbicillic interest in the creatures below has gotten him into trouble
before.
He talks too much, questions the very statutes which govern this clan.
He has even gone so far as to tap the oracle . . . a high crime, last I
heard.
Young or not, he has tried the tempers of his elders. Be glad the
laws stand where they do-
or he would surely lose more than his wings . . .
Vasha: . . .
Paern:
As you hope, perhaps they will be lenient . . . but likely not. I
offer you this word of warning:
Hold your tongue and consider, for a moment, what you commit yourself to
before you begin championing
our brother's intentions. Return to your studies of the chords, close
yourself off again, and forget
what has transpired . . .
(The older male seems to snort apathetically, before he too exits the cave.
Far behind,
Vasha raises
her eyes from ground, whispering to the shadows at her feet . . .)
Vasha:
Stupid boy . . . stupid, stupid boy . . .
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Boy: Miss Aerianna!?
(Meanwhile, in the very center of the everwood forest on the western reach of the Glendenium lands . . .)
Boy: Where are you?
(silence is all there is to answer the child as he walks, alone,
his only company the tall
trees of the
wood which surround the clearing he has wandered into. Sparse
shafts of
midday light
stream through breaks in the canopy overhead, casting miniscule amounts
of illumination
upon the smaller plants and undergrowth below .
Though he is privy to the almost symphonic milieu of bird and insect calls
which
pervade such
a scene, the
serene nature of the woodland is somehow wasted on him,
for his
mind is occupied with the more pressing matter of the whereabouts of the
ilif.
This is something which unfortunately eludes him, for now it seems,
as he casts a
strained gaze
in either direction, grunting forcefully . . .)
Boy: (to himself) Dammit. How fast can someone like that run? I can't have lost her already . . .
(They child is interrupted from his rumination by what seems to be, at
first, the sound of a
birdcall.
It is a staccatto of clicks, eminating from the thicket just beyond
the small clearing
where the boy
now stands. These soon grow into a peculiar warble of sorts; a lengthy
flutter
which lasts
a full minute before growing silent. . .
It is at this point, however, he becomes aware of another sound.
This one is separate from
the rest of
the noises of the forest, seemingly hidden behind the calls in the clearing.
It is the sound of something large lumbering through the brush . . .)
Digra: (snarling) . . .
Boy: ?
The roar cuts through the air in a high, piercing shrill, not unlike
the wail of bird of prey.
The form that
emerges from the bush, however, is anything but--
A monster at least twice the height of a grown man, with scales akin
to that of a lizard
tears from
the underbrush in a cloud of leaves and broken branches. Its serpentine
maw
bared wide
as it uncases its forcelaws, the digra's mottled, yellow armor is
covered with
horizontal
stripes that conform to the muscled contour of its vaguely-humanoid figure
much like those
of a tiger.
Indeed, the creature's animal intent becomes instinctually clear to the
child as it
lands in the
clearing on all fours, raising its head to track as closes in on what is
about to become
its next meal . . .)
Boy: . . .
(Yet, even as the beast lumbers toward him, the boy shows no sign
of fear . . . rather, it is almost
pensive tensness
that builds as the predator stalks closer . . .exhaling sharply, the child
clenches his
hands into
tiny fists, following the creature's movements with his own . . .)
(Glaring down at its prey, the reptile feints to the right, then the left,
crouching down
with a growl buried deep in its throat . . .)
Boy: (whispering) you ARE a Stupid thing. . .
Digra: GrrrrARG!
(In a blur of scales and teeth, the creature lunges -- and reverse-articulated
forearms mounted with
claws capable
of producing the force to shatter bone whip through the air in the blink
of an eye, intent
on truncating
the child's body at the lower torso . . .
What they strike, however, is merely empty space to greet them as the boy
feints the blow.
A spray of
dirt is sent airborne as the bony knives strike the ground, sinking to
their hilt momentarily
before being
wrent from the spot with a snarl . . . )
Boy: (whispering) Surely I'm too small to be a meal of consequence to you!!
The childs's words appear to have no effect as the creature lunges with
a second slash.
Yet, again,
the claws succeed only in whistling harmlessly through the air, striking
nothing
and infuriating
the animal further . . .)
Boy: (growling . . .)
(His patience having dwindled well past the point of tolerance, child now
stands his ground
as the creature
takes this final opportunity, lunging in a downward arc with a
force capable of
cleaving a
man in two . . .
With comparable swiftness, the boy brings up his arm to defend
himself, as
the rapiers cut through the air toward him . . .
This time, they find purchase,
but as they rake across child's skin, there is no sound of flesh
giving, no shower of blood;
there is no
scream of pain, and no new meal for the opportunistic predator . . . .
Instead, there is the screech that fills the air that is completely out of place.
it is a sound not unlike the raking of stone against metal, accompanied
by a blinding shower
of sparks which
erupts from the point of contact . . .)
A small pulm of smoke rises from where a breach should have rent the boy's
flesh, yet no
indication
of damage seems apparent. Pulling his arm away from his face, it now appears
that
the child's
indifferent expression has been replaced by one of pure . . . irritation.
. .)
(The digra roars once more, now besetting upon its weary prey with an unbridled
ferocity. . .
The creature
can only shriek in feral surprise, however, as the child halts its
forelimb in
midswing with insurmountable strength. )
Boy: (Snarling) There is no one watching us, creature. I've been patient long enough . . .
(It is with this declaration that the boy now regards the digra, mere seconds
before he lifts the writhing
creature off
its feet. Affording the beast little more than a dismissive leer, he then
casts the six hundred-
stone predator
as if it weighed nothing, hurling it beyond the edge of the clearing and
into the center of
a nearby tree.
The modest timbre shatters with the force of the impact, imploding in unto
itself in a spray of splinters and
broken wood.
As the upper-half of the now compounded tree crumples into a chaotic heap,
the
digra’s agonized
wails can be heard from beneath the tangled mass. . .
The child does not look back even once as he moves onward, retracing the ilif's footsteps carefully . . .)
Boy: Now where did she go . . .?
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(Meanwhile, at a point in the forest not 5 minutes ahead, Aerianna goodtree stops dead in her tracks.
The ilif trips over herself at the sound of a beast's distant howls . . .)
Aerianna: (coming to a stop) What the hell was that!?
(Ahead of her, the young man comes to a halt, glancing over his shoulder . . .)
Boyle: A Digra . . . sounds like it found something slow enough to eat . . .
Aerianna: The--SHIT! Did the boy come with us!?
Boyle: What boy?
(Aerianna's sense of urgency seems to increase tenfold as
she begins
to backtrack , nearly dropping her provisions in the process . . .)
Aerianna:
That redheaded kid that was with me when you came!!!
I thought I heard him behind us!!
Boyle: Dammit!
(The man curses himself as the ilif begins to push through the thicket again . . .)
Aerianna: I just have to make sure! You can go on without me, I can catch up to you!
Boyle: Are you crazy!? Do you expect to fight a Digra alone?!
Aerianna: I can handle myse--
(The girl's retort is cutoff in midsentence, however, as she slams into
something
emerging from
the bushes directly in front of her . . .)
Boy: Ow!
(the impact is enough to cause the girl to fall flat on her behind, yelping
in surprise as
she is born
sprawling to the ground along with the thing she has run into . . . )
(A momentary vertigo grips Goodtree, before winding away in the wake of
an all-too familiar
voice exclaiming
with surprise . . . )
Boy: I found you!
(The wave of relief that passes through Aerianna's mindset is fleeting,
and for the second time
that day, the
boy is privy to a string of colorful curses in the chirpish dialect of
the ilif tongue. . . )
Aerianna:
Boy! Why did you follow me?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack!?
I thought that demon or whatever had gotten you!
Boy: But . . .
Boyle: Miss Goodtree!!
(The child's protest falls upon deaf ears, however, as the girl rises quickly
to her feet,
grabbing the
boy by the arm . . .)
Aerianna: (interrupting) forget it! come on, we have to hurry!
---------------------------------------------------------------------
FAREN:
A Dragon’s Tale
Episode 2: "Burn"
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(Moments later . . . outside a field nearly 30 minutes from the
Glenden outskirts,
set at the very edge of the northern wood . . .)
Worker: Aa . . .AAAAAARGH!!
Worker b: It’ll be alright, Ian’s gone to get the healer!
Worker: (choking) Arus . . . I . .c. . can’t feel my arm . . . Gods . . .oh gods I don't want to die this way . . .
Arus: Don’t talk, now! save your strength--merciful heaven, Enru this was stupid of you!
Enru: Gods . . . I can't feel it anymore . . .
( A man lies, writhing in agony in the tall grass, his friend and fellow
workman
at his side.
On the ground beside them, the victim’s arm lies partially severed from
his body at
the shoulder, where
hasty dressings of mud and cloth essay to stem
the profuse
flow of blood
gushing from the wound . . . broken edges of bone and muscle poke
out from beneath
the sheets, glinting in the midday sunlight with an almost sickening
brilliance,
like pieces of wet ceramic. . .)
Enru: My . . My boy . . .
Arus: (shaking) I told you to be quiet, save your strength . .
(at that instant, from over the rise not 50 yards distant, three figures
emerge from behind the
rise where
the fields meet the woodland---two in
front, one trailing several paces behind. . .
all three,
running as fast as they can
. . . Before Arus can signal them, however, A shout from one of
the three brings
him to his feet . . .)
Boyle: ARUS! I brought the shamen!!
Arus: (shouting) Hurry!!
(Being the lightest on her feet, the ilif is on her knees at the man’s
side an entire minute
before the
other two even reach him, assessing the wounds with a careful eye . . .
)
Aerianna: What did this to him?!
(Without looking, Arus points to a tangled mess of bloodied blades jutting
from beneath a
small mound
of mud betwixt the grass on their right. It is a contraption whose purpose
seems
twofold--to
maim and immobilize, whilst causing extreme pain for whatever beast unlucky
enough to become
caught in its steel jaws.)
Arus:
That. The city elders forbade the placing of traps outside the rim
forest, but the trappers ignore the law time and again!
Aerianna:
We can discuss the politics of the poachers another time-- He’s lost a
lot of blood.
Boyle, I want you to remove this dressing while I prepare a real one .
. .
Boyle: right . .
(as the two hastily get to work, she becomes uncomfortably aware of the
curious eyes
that watch them from behind . . .)
Boy: What . . . What manner of beast . . . did this to him??
Aerianna: Carelessness. The worst kind.
Boy: . . A man?
Aerianna: (quietly) A man.
(The child falls silent, in contemplation, as the sound of the man’s
groaning grows
in volume with the removal of the makeshift dressing . . .
The ilif holds
back the instinct to recoil at the sight of the nearly-detached
limb, focusing
instead on the task at hand . . .)
Boy: Another of his . . of his kind . . . did this to him!?
Aerianna: Shut up and get back, will you?
Boy: . . .
(He takes a step back, his eyes still fixated on the writhing form below . . . when, suddenly--)
child’s voice: (screaming) Mister Boyle!! Where is he!? What happened!?
Boyle: Hell's teeth, not now!!
(a child’s figure emerges from the thicket just beyond the trees,
his face a
mask of fear . . . Aerianna does not look up from her work as she speaks--)
Aerianna: Who is that?
Boyle: That’s Enru’s kid--I sent one of the laborers into town to tell his wife . . .
Aerianna: You! Boy!
Boy: Eh-?
(As if surprised at the girl's sudden assertiveness, the child points at himself, slightly unsure . . .)
Boy: Me?
Aerianna: Keep the brat back! I can’t let him see his father like this. . !
Boy: But-
Aerianna: Just do as I tell you!!
(without another word, the child turns to face youngster. It is with
no effort at all that
he keeps the
boy at bay, his face sullen as the child cries in desperation . .)
Aerianna: (over her shoulder) you’re father will be alright, but this is delicate work!!
Boyle: Goodtree--
(The boy futily reaches for his father, his form is obscured by the two
figures
poised above
him in the tall grass. Cursing, Aerianna turns, pointing a bloodied
hand
behind the
older child’s shoulder . .)
Aerianna:
(darkly) Get him as far away from us as you can for now!
I don’t want him in the way! I've NO TIME for distractions!
Boy: . . .
(complying once more, the stranger drags the boy further back, heedless
of the child's
indignant cries.
When they are almost 100 feet away, however, they stop . . . as the sounds
of Aerianna’s
voice, speaking in an unfamiliar tongue, are carried by the midday breeze
. . .)
Aerianna: <By
The graces that be, the wind on high, in the heavens above, please, bring
this man your
warmth, and breath your blessings upon him . . . .>
(The words are slmost melodius in their delivery, their mysterious inflections
carried by
strangely soothing
tones from the depths woman's throat . . . and by a strange instrument
clutched tightly
in her right
hand, half obscured by the folds of her robe . . .
. . .Then, the ilif places her left upon the wound, where a growing warmth
has already begun to
rise from the
ragged ridges of torn tissue. . . as the girl concentrates, the sinews
and muscle
begin to knead themselves--animated in an unnatural merging of flesh and
bone as the
wound begins
to heal with incredible speed . . .)
Boyle: Aerianna . . . he’s not breathing . . !
Aerianna: . . .
(She does not answer as the warmth punctuates into an almost scalding heat
-- one that
permeates the
air over Enrue’s unmoving body like a halo, the air over he and Aerianna
wavering
with its intensity
as the rite continues, her eyes screwed shut in determination . .
.)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(Meanwhile . . . the strange boy watches on with a look of incredulousness,
as the girl goes about
her work uninterrupted.
The scene, while understandably perplexing in nature, brings about within
him
an unnerving
sort of familiarity. One that causes him to utter quietly in disbelief
at the waves of warmed
air he picks
up in the wake of the ritual taking place not 100 paces away . . .)
Boy: (to himself) Can it be . . . ?
child: Who are you?!? Let go of me!!
Boy: Let the girl help him. you will only get in her way.
child: (crying) Don't let her hurt my Dad!
Boy: . . . I have a feeling he will be alright, you needn't worry about your father. . . . ?
(strangely, the boy says it with an intonation of curiosity in his voice,
looking down
at the child struggling to free himself from his grip . .)
(The younger of the two stops, then, gazing up at the larger child angrily . . .)
child: Who are you!? What would you know??
Boy: . . . It's not of any importance.
(Suddenly, there is a shout from ahead . . .)
Enru: (moaning) uuuuuunh . . .
Boyle: . . . you did it!!
Aerianna: That was quick thinking . . . with the dressing . . .
(Breathing a cautious sigh of relief, Aerianna raises a hand to her brow,
where a cold
sweat of anticipation has gathered. The ilif wipes it away
with her wrist,
avoiding touching her face with her blood-soaked fingers . . .)
Boyle: But . . . he's going to be alright . .?
Aerianna: I think so . . .
(Then, however . . . the one called Enru opens his eyes, gazing with slowly
clearing vision
at the obscure shapes that sit over him.
As his eyes fall to Aerianna, though, they suddenly widen . . .)
Enru: Y . . .You!?!?
(Though weak, the man's voice carries with it a surprising strength . .)
Aerianna: He's certainly awake--
Enru: (disgusted) Get . . . . get away from me . . .
Aerianna: . . !!
Aryn: Enru!
Boyle: Shut up, you idiot! she just saved your worthless life!
(Waving his good arm, Enru struggles to push the girl away,
uttering hysterically,
unheeding his companion's words . .)
Enru: Dammit,
you know I would rather you let me die than let one of
these soulsuckers near me! Of all the healers in Glenden you.. got
THIS one!? So she can steal my spirit with her witchery!?
Aerianna:
It's not witchery. It's herbs. And if I were looking for souls,
I'm certain I could do better than one as slimy as yours . . .
(Aerianna does not budge at the man's weak attempts to push her away; indeed,
the look on
the girl's face is neither one of despair, nor antipathy.
It is an emotionless gaze, directed at Enru's wound, and nothing more.)
Enru: What are you just sitting there for!? I said Get her away from me!!
(Now thoroughly angered at his comrade’s behavior, Boyle grabs the man's
sweat-soaked
shirtcollar, shouting into his face . . )
Boyle: Would you shut up, you idiot!
Aerianna: (interrupting) . . . no. stop.
Boyle: . .but--Aerianna--
Aerianna: not another word . . .
(Gathering herself, the ilif stands, taking several paces back . . .)
Aerianna: (quietly) Just let it go, Boyle, this is nothing new to me.
(Reaching for her satchel, she pulls free a small bag of herbs,
dropping them
into the man's hands . . .)
Aerianna: He must redress the wounds with these after 2 days, or he will have a fever.
Boyle: Please, Let me Apologize--
Aerianna: (firmly)Forget it. It's nothing you did.
(Aerianna goodtree does not turn around again as she walks away,
her bloodied
hands hanging at her sides, where her fingers leave red streaks on the
edges
of her dress.
. . as she passes by the strange boy, who still holds the child of Enru
fast, she speaks flatly . .)
Aerianna: We're going, boy. Let him go to his father so that he may learn their kind of gratitude.
(Complying silently, the boy releases the child, who runs immediately to
his father
lying in the
tall grass. It is without further word that he follows Aerianna goodtree
. . .
. . .
he does, however, remain several paces behind . . .)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Hidefumi:
This treaty thus marks a new era between the Eludrian Republic, and the
Kingdom of
Iskander, your Highness . . .
King: Does it, Hidefumi?
Hidefumi: If your majesty were to hear the other advisors speak of it, indeed so . . .
King: We are far to old for this . . .
(Meanwhile . . . in the shining jewel that is the capital city of Eludria,
on the steps
of the grand entrance to the king's court . . . the aged Monarch
stands before
a marble bust, erected in his likeness, set upon the promenade
above.
At his side stands another man, yet younger in years, dressed in the robes
of a grand
visier . . . with exception of these two solitary figures, the great
hall is empty.
Sunlight pours in through the tall, ornamented windows that line
the east side,
emerging from the glass in a medley of multicolored glowing
beams which
only seem to accentuate the room's size . . .)
Hidefumi:
It has weighed heavy on your brow since you placed your mark
upon the document little more than a week ago . . .
king:
And why shouldn't it? How many died for it . . . Our proud
nation is in celebration
for the first time in decades. Never before have we witnessed such
rejoicing, for the
war has been ended by our own hand. But this joy is tainted.
What price have we paid for peace?
Hidefumi:
Your court, as well as Oranion, saw it as an opportunity . . .
Can they be blamed for it? After all, they are young, eager.
They do not see the true wealth that lay
in their ancestral home.
In their eyes it was a barren waste
. . . a place of ruination
and death for both our peoples. . . and they were right.
This war has taken innumerable tolls on
both kingdoms, and driven
our nations to the very brink of destruction.
(The man pauses regarding a well-kept doubt he has waited to reveal to the aged monarch . . . )
Hidefumi: I
cannot help but wonder, however . .what of the
people of the midland, who will be displaced in the wake of Iskander's
claim?
(It is with a tired voice that the king answers, as he brings a weary
hand to rest
upon his eyelids. . .)
King:
A trifle . .nomads and savages, and what-not . .
Why, Hidefumi? Were we supposed to sway our own
advisors to the opposite recourse? Rather, we were
pressured into giving away our lands for the promise
of a few more years of peace? To assauge the wrath of
our enemy?
Hidefumi:
Do not fault yourself, your highness . . . Yours is
the wisest, the most worthy voice. Your word is law.
You weighed the cost, and the outcome, as a true leader must.
You have our support, no matter what your decision . . .
King:
. . . be it right, or wrong. The child-king of Iskander will no doubt
grow to
hate our land for the state of the nation he has inherited has been left
in.
It is for this reason, we fear, that this peace will be fleeting . . that
this
celebration is premature.
Hidefumi : Cast such doubts aside for now, my leige . . .Has there been any news on your wife?
(Hidefumi smiles as the old man seems to brighten a bit as he mentions this new prospect--)
King:
She will be returning from the south within the week . . .
Our heart is heavy for we have missed her . . .
(The placid joy in the man's expression seems to fade quickly, however,
as a new
consideration
asserts itself in his emburdened mind.)
Hidefumi: You still seemed troubled, even by that . . .
King: What will she think of us, when she hears what we have done?
Hidefumi: Whatever the outcome, my Leige. . . the deed, is done.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(Elsewhere . . . the young ilif healer and the strange child have,
at long last,
returned to her home on the outskirts of Glenden . . . the sun hangs lower
in the sky
than before, their journey having been in complete silence. Indeed,
this
changes little
at its end, as Aerianna washes her hands of Enru's blood at the rainwater
trough next
to her decrepit windmill.
The boy remains a safe distance behind, watching curiously, as the girl
plunges her
hands again
and again into the murk, the walls of her resolve beginning
to tremble . . .)
Aerianna: . . .
(it begins as a soft moan at first . . . a stifled shudder . . . a quick
gasp . . .but then, slowly,
it builds to
a quiet sobbing. . .)
Aerianna: (quietly) <Asshole . . .>
(The ilif grips the edges of the trough as the tears begin to come.
It is barely
audible, as she manages to retain some vestige
of control
over the anger which has slipped passed her hardened defenses. . .
As the child listens the girl's quiet, stifled cries, he wears upon his
face a look
of sympathy . . . yet, also, one of confusion. Still, he does not speak
. . .)
(After a moment, the girl's breathing subsides, and the sobbing dies away.
wiping her
face with her wet hand, she gazes into the water of the trough,
which has taken
on a pale, red hue as it mingles with the blood shed from her
fingers. .
. Aerianna acknowledges, for a moment, the reflection of the disheveled
looking young
girl that stares back at her from the water's sanguinous surface. . . .
her hair matted
with sweat, her face a mask of weariness, her eyes the
composition
of wet glass.
Finally, awareness of her surroundings seems to creep back into her
concious mind
once more. . .)
Aerianna: <Stupid girl . . . You're supposed to be used to this by now . . .>
(She mutters this, then turns, eyeing the small boy deftly for a moment . . .)
Aerianna: I'll be inside. . .
Boy: . . .
(he says not a word as she opens her door, carefully removing
her mud-caked
shoes before stepping inside. . )
Boy: . . .
(For a long time, the child with no name stands rooted to his spot--looking
on at the
squat little
hovel which stands a silent vigil in the waning light afternoon sun.
A strong wind
wafts gently through the flaps of his tunic, as his gaze trails from
the silent
sails of the decaying mill, to the waters of of the raintrough where
the workman's
blood still stirs.
The look on his face is one of consideration--and his own resolve waning a bit . . .
Finally, he seems to reach a recourse--and the boy follows the girl's footsteps
into the house
with an air of determination . . .)
Boy: Aerianna, wait . . .
(Inside, the ilif turns as she kneels before the fireplace, where a glow
has begun to
rise from where
dead cinders once lingered . . .)
Aerianna: What is it?
Boy: Why . . why did you help him, Aerianna Goodtree? Even though he hates your kind . . . ?
(Sighing, the girl stands . . .)
Aerianna: .
. . Certain things . . .more important that others . . .
There are certain things I must consider, beyond petty hatred.
Boy: . . . I
don't understand . . . I thought--Everyone seems so concerned
for their own well-being. What makes you feel differently?
Aerianna:
It is not my place to refuse somebody my help, little boy. Even if
that
somebody hates me for what I am . . .or for these . . .
(As if for emphasis, the girl runs her fingers through her hair, allowing
her
long, slender
ears to spring free . . .)
Aerianna:
. . . It is part of the credence I accepted as a Shamen. I play a
role in this community,
even if that community is suspicious of me. It is the only home I
have.
Boy: I see . . . that is very .. . .
Aerianna: . . ?
Boy: . . .noble.
(Inspite of herself, Aerianna laughs.
wiping her
tired, red eyes, the girl at last turns to regard her young companion .
. )
Aerianna: Among other things . . .
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Oryn: . . .
(meanwhile . . . on the sheer slopes on the outskirts of mount Echelon . . .)
Oryn: . . . Reveal to me, vespers, reveal to me the whereabouts of my blood . . . and carry me to him
(a titanic, winged form streaks down from the highest peaks . . .
Traveling at
hundreds of lem per hour, it whips over the crags
and treetops
in a swift, blue blur born by some unnatural force--a wind stronger than
any other
coursing the
thermals between the mountains peaks . . .)
Oryn: . . .
(The vespers shriekover Oryn's wings, as the ancient dragon king
tears across
the landscape, his eyes locked upon the barren wastes
of the surrounding
Azaar hundreds of feet below . . .
from his lips, tumbles smoke from a growing flame deep within . . .
while, from his eyes, comes a green glow of rage that burns many, many times fiercer . . .)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(Meanwhile . . . in the abode of Aerianna Goodtree, the air of solitude
has grown much less prominent.
The child watches
a second time as the girl sets a steaming cup of tea before her young guest,
blowing gently
at the steam which rises from its simmering lip . . . )
Aerianna: This stuff isn't usually too bad when its been reheated . . try not to spill it this time.
Boy: . . .
Aerianna: So . . . Do you trust me, yet?
Boy: . . . I still don't understand your intentions.
Aerianna: . . .
Boy: I
have watched you for these days . . . wondering what you hoped to
gain from helping me. Yet, I can see nothing.
Aerianna: (laughing) So selflessness is new to you, too, boy?
Boy: It was . . . not . . what I was taught to expect from the people of the lowland.
Aerianna: Lowland?
Boy: The lands of . . um . . . Glenden.
Aerianna: So you're not a native of this city. . .
Boy: Aerianna?
Aerianna: . . ?
(The child seems to smile, brushing the hair out of his eyes once more . . .)
Boy: my name is Faren.
Aerianna: just "Faren?"
Faren: "Faren" . . . yes. I have only one name.
(Aerianna starts for a second, then laughs to herself, shaking her head)
Aerianna: I suppose I should be grateful. There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?
Faren: (sighing)
Aerianna: Oh, but it's a pity, too .. .
Faren: Why?
Aerianna: I was just getting used to calling you my "Boy."
(The girl winks, a subtle smile alighting her graceful features . . .)
Aerianna: It had a regal ring to it . . .
Faren: . . .
Aerianna: Give me a minute to change . . .I'll be right back . . .
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(Outside, as the evening sun hangs lazily in the clear skies above, the
city
of Glenden
once again begins the welcome course onto the day's end.
In the marketplace,
vendors usher remaining customers and onlookers
out of their
shops, fruitsellers hitch their wagons to their beasts of burden,
and a number
of merchants retire to the local taverns, to spend the fruit of their day's
wares.
Outside the shopping district, among the houses and businesses that
make up the
bulk of the city's populace, Glendenian citizenry start for home
and hearth,
taking with them the aches and pains of a day come and gone.
As the streets fill with people once more, the noise of the bustling crowds
sends flocks
of birds into the air, frightening them from their perches on ledges
and rooftops
and into the screeching masses in the sky.
Indeed, all over the city, the birds retreat to the heavens, the sounds
of
their cawing
echoing through all districts of Glendenium, creating an ambient
caterwauling
that hangs high in the air as the sun begins its final descent
behind the
hills in the horizon. . . )
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Aerianna: What happened to your family?
Faren: (muffled) I . . . I left them.
Aerianna: I take it they don't live in Glenden?
Faren: no.
(Aerianna grunts as she pulls away the top of her dress, which is still
stained with
Enru's blood. Behind her closed door, Faren stands patiently,
as she calls
to him through . .)
Aerianna: Then where are you from?
Faren: (hesitant) a . .city far outside this place.
Faren: (thinking)
Shakre, Why do I have such a hard time lying to this girl?
I thought this was supposed to be easy!
Aerianna: How old are you?
Faren: I am . .um . .
Aerianna: Okay, why don't I start first?
(The door opens, and the ilif steps out, wearing a short tunic of her own . . .)
Aerianna: I turned 52 a couple months ago. As you can guess, It was a solitary affair . . .
Faren: . .But . .y . .
Aerianna: Come on, kid, don't tell me you’ve never met an ilif before . .
Faren: I have not . . .
Aerianna: It figures . . .
Faren: I suppose, b .. but . .
Aerianna:
If I was human, I'd probably be dead. but my people's aging
slows right around the time we become little men and women . . .
Faren: . . .
Aerianna: When I saw you on the street, I thought you were about 14 or so . . . am I right?
(the boy's cheeks burn with embarrassment as he nods, unable to stay her gaze)
Faren: I suppose . . .
Aerianna: Ha! that's another one for me!
Faren: Tell me about your family . . .
Aerianna: There isn't much to tell . . .
(Aerianna pauses, tightening the petite ribbon which now holds up
the dark locks
atop her head . . .)
Aerianna:
I'm not from Glenden . . . as you probably guessed.
I moved here around 30 years ago . . . from a small village
to the northeast called the Emberwood.
Faren: Are the people like you there . . . ?
Aerianna:
yes . . . of course. the Village is the home of my tribe of ilif.
They are called the Sunfi.
Faren: You left them?
Aerianna: . . .
Faren: . . . why?
(Strangely, the girl shakes her head--looking at the fading twilight
through the
window by the door . . .)
Aerianna:
We all have our reasons . . . You said you left your family.
I won't question you, if you don't do the same.
I think we'll both be the better for it.
Faren: . . .
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(Simultaneously . . .above the deserted grasslands which lie just beyond
the stretch
of the Glendenium borders . . .)
Oryn: (coldly)
There . . .
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Faren: I have another question . . .
Aerianna: Alright . . just one more.
Faren:
Today . . when you were helping that man . . . What were you doing
when you told me to keep the boy away?
(The ilif is hesitant for a moment . . .)
Aerianna: I told you before. Herbs.
(The child shakes his head slowly, almost unintentionally, so important
is the
truth behind
the girl's answer to him . . .)
Faren: I cannot believe that . . .
Aerianna: I don't care what you believe, kid. I know these things . . .
(suddenly, the young boy's eyes widen, his face contorting into a mask
of sheer horror,
as he stares at Aerianna. The look he now wears is enough to
send a chill
racing down her spine, and the ilif rises . . .)
Aerianna: What?! What is it?? The tea isn’t that bad, is it?
(knocking his chair to the side, he stands-stumbling back
wearing the
same terrified expression . . .)
Faren: I. . . I have to go!!
Aerianna: WHAT? Why??
---------------------------------------------------------------------
(In the slowly dwindling sunlight, the cause for the child's concern
tears over
the landscape almost 50 lem away, leaving behind it twisting
trails of vapor,
so great is its speed . . . yet it, too, somehow
having sensed
the proximity
of one of its kind . . .)
Oryn: . . .
(Hot rage mixed with cold determination are all that remain in Oryn's eyes,
now,
lending only
a small clue as to the fires burning deep within his heart. . . . )
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Aerianna: (panting) Faren!! Wait!! What's going on!!
Faren: . . .
Aerianna: WHY ARE YOU RUNNING!?
(Running through the now deserted streets of Glenden's main quarter,
The child known
simply as Faren does not turn or stop at the sound of Aerianna
Goodtree's
shout. . .
Indeed, the only voices he can hear in his mind are his own . . . screaming
in desperation
for a way out of the imminent doom that approaches . . .)
Faren: (thinking) I don't have any more time . . !! I can't . . .Shakre! The ilif!!
(This thought is enough to bring the child to a screeching stop, kicking
up a small
cloud of dust
in his wake. His attentions momentarily redirected, the boy spins on his
heel, holding
his hand out at the girl who, in turn, halts in place . . .as the two stand
off, an ominous
wind picks up, whipping through the boy's hair as he stands firm . . .
finally, after taking a moment to catch her breath Aerianna speaks. . .)
Aerianna: What the hells this all about!?
Faren: Aerianna goodtree . . . you have to get out of here!
(Faren's voice is muffled as a second breeze picks up, this one stronger than the last . . .)
Aerianna: Why?
Faren: Go back to your home and your animals and forget you ever saw me!!
Aerianna: What are you talking about! What did I do!?
(Turning his eyes to the sky, the child drops his arm,
whispering
to himself with a wavering voice . . .)
Faren: He's getting closer . . . there's no more time!!
Aerianna: Have you gone crazy, boy?!
(As the ilif begins to step closer, the boy turns toward
her once again
with a shout . . . )
Faren:
Aerianna , I'm sorry! You have to GET OUT OF HERE!!
There are things going on here you don't understand!!
(The boy is cut off, however, by a deafening roar from high above . . .)
Aerianna: GODDESS!!!
(The ilif and child are thrown from their feet as something impossibly
huge drops
from the sky, sending tremors rumbling through the landscape
for nearly
a lem, and crushing several buildings beneath its massive weight.
When Aerianna at last recovers, raising her eyes to the massive thing that
has
landed before
them,
She finds she cannot scream . . .)
Oryn: FAREN!!
(The dragon's voice shatters windows across the city as it sounds
the
name of his
son, waking horrified Glendenians from their beds with the subtlety of
a hurricane . . .)
Aerianna: <By all the powers high and merciful . . .>
Faren: (screaming) GO!!!
Aerianna: . . !
Faren: . .Run . . .
Oryn: <How dare you! >
(With this shout in the dragon tongue, Oryn's massive hand swings low--catching
Faren's
minuscule body
off guard, sending it hurtling into a merchant's cart with
the force to
shatter a mountain . . .)
Around the creature, peoples flee in mortified terror, screaming to the
heavens of
demons and hellfire, begging the powers on high for deliverance.
It is a deliverance that does not come . . .)
Oryn: <You leave our sacred home, to cavort among these INSECTS!! >
(The words come in the dragani tongue, with a tone that villifies the feeling
of icy dread in the child's heart.
Gathering what
little courage remains, the boy calls back . . .)
Faren: <Father . . . father, please, you don't understand!! The oracle-- >
(The child's voice sounds pitifully small as he emerges from the pile of
rent
wood that was
once a vendor's carriage. . . the sight of his human form only
seems to enrage
his father even further, however . . .)
Aerianna: FAREN!!!
Faren: G . .GET OUT OF HERE!!
(Finally, the ilif finds her footing . . . and raw survival instinct takes over as she runs from the creature,
and from the boy called Faren . . .)
Oryn: (rageous) <You even assume their shape, though it is forbidden . . . >
Faren: . . .
Oryn:
<Pray your fate is not the same as that which you have
brought upon the Suchinai of this place! >
Faren: (horrified) <NO! SPARE THEM, THEY'VE DONE NOTHING!! >
Oryn: (roaring)
(with another deafening bellow, the great dragon Oryn silences his
child--engulfing
him in an turbulent, red light which erupts from the palm of his
hand, the beast
closes its eyes, encasing the boy in a translucent red air
of luminous
force which carries him high above the head of the towering dragon
. . .)
(Faren falls to his knees, his eyes agape as the city of Glenden fills his view below . . .
And then, seconds later, he screams as Oryn besets upon it . . .
breathing
a maelstrom
of flame upon its houses, buildings, and fleeing populace as he tears
through it
with the destructive force of a cyclone. . .
Far below, shrieks of terror fill the streets as flesh and bone are seared
in the
ensuing hell-fire;
the local guard long having abandoned hopes of combatting the
creature, the
people of the city finding themselves at the mercy of a beast with a
heart devoid
of any . . .
Entire sections of the burg erupt as they are bathed in fire, only to be
obliterated an instant
later by the
angry hand of the beast itself. Prayers
are offered to the void, unheeded, as the
metropolis
and its people are incinerated--
all the while,
high above, as the great
Oryn's rampage lays waste to thousands,
Faren's eyessqueeze
shut . . . and he covers his ears, in a futile attempt toclose out
the death-knell
of Glenden's final moments once, and for all . . .)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
CAPTION
The Present, Eighty Years later . . .
(Aerianna Goodtree wipes the sweat from her brow . . . her breathing coming
in shuddering
gasps as the last of the incantations begins to take effect . . . below
her,
the unconscious body of the young boy lies--the blood having long since
ceased
gushing
from the knife-wound to his chest, the flesh of which is still hot to the
touch
from the
nature of the rituals.
Indeed, his only movements are those which accompany the strangled rasp
that is his
breathing
. . .)
Aerianna: I've closed up the wound. He should be okay . . .
(The elfin raises a weary eye to the sword pointed at her head .
. .
then looks
at the young guardsman who stands behind it . . .)
Aerianna: I've done all I can. You can put the saber down, now!
Guardsman:
Thank you, I'll wait until captain Reginald instructs me to.
Until that happens, girl, you stay right where you are. And pray
this boy makes it through the night.
Aerianna: . . .
(Cursing under her breath, the girl places a tired hand on the boy's
forehead
. . . her mind filled with innumerable questions as she gazes at his face:
the familiar
lines and curves exactly the same as she remembers them,
so many
years ago. )
Aerianna: (thinking) Heat brings life, as heat brings death . . .
(Yet among the many quandaries and explanations which provoke
the young
ilif's thoughts as she gazes at the child's face, one, in particular,
rises above
the rest . . . )
Aerianna: By the wind . . .What the hells are you, Faren?
---------------------------------------------------------------------
To Be Continued
. . .