Dust... (Original Story)

ejaredallen (60)in #writing • 9 years ago

27!

Didn't think it could get any better after part 26, did ya? Well, I'm here to prove you wrong. The story get stranger, the characters more complex, and the plot... as obscure as it's been since day I suppose. Anywho, get a load of this!

P.S. ...this late night writing seems to be more for my benefit than yours... Here's part 27 of "A Fool's Errant".

Enjoy

----------------------------------Part 27: Dust ...-------------------------------

In the forest, in the camp of the troop, sitting on her stump while Clyf was hunting for a meal, Norah felt the force of the universe shift as peril beset her friends. She closed her eyes and saw them rushing from the city, mindless flesh-eaters in pursuit. She nearly opened her eyes in reflex of the awful image of the creatures. She knew not what they were, but they would soon be upon Salvador and Jonas. She saw the men cross through the gates and hoped that somehow the gates would close on the creatures.

As she wished it to be, she watched as the doors of the city started to close. Was she doing this? She willed it to be so and devoted her attention to closing the doors mentally. The old doors swung quicker and soon locked, barring the portal of Kerim; her friends were safe. Norah took a breath. She had exerted herself and her energy was spent.

Raeas arrived at the camp moments later. Norah had barely caught her breath at this point, but when she saw Luci’s unmoving body in Raeas’ arms, her breath caught itself. She gasped at the sight and rushed over to the large man. Luci’s body was at eye level of Norah, frail and limp.

“Clyf!” Norah called out. If anyone could help her, it was Clyf. “What happened?” Norah asked, turning her attention to Raeas.

“She was attacked by a Eraf.” Raeas’ voice was boisterous, but vacant of emotion. Norah looked at the unfeeling face of the warrior man and wondered how any of these people were just performers. Clyf was a recluse, Raeas was clearly a mercenary soldier, Jonas was a freelance arsonist or sniper, (Norah had seen his kind before), and Salvador… Well, he seemed every bit the circus fool he pretended to be. But if the others were not who they said they were, neither was he. It was all a ruse, but why?

Luci looked in awful shape as Raeas set her down on a pallet of blankets on the ground by the dead fire. Clyf came galloping through the brambles and shrubs on his short legs, thinking Norah was in danger by the way she had called out. As he neared the camp he saw Raeas and Norah standing by something on the ground. Fearing it was Salvador, he prepared himself of the worst. When he was close enough to see, he noticed Luci and not Salvador on the ground. What had happened?

“Where’s Jonas and Salvador? Did they make it out?” Clyf asked as he approached.

“They made it.” Norah replied. Raeas looked at her with something resembling suspicion and awe.

“They’ll be here shortly, they were behind us but traveling slower.” Raeas said slowly, his mind on Norah. How did she know?

“I need to know everything you can tell me about what happened.” The urgency in Clyf’s voice was evident. Raeas explained what little he could, he and Clyf entered a conversation of their own, which Norah zoned out as she wandered away from the camp. Her thoughts circulated in her brain, but she kept coming back to one thought: how had Salvador known to save her in Kerim? How had he known where to find her? Why did he care? What was it to a traveling fool if an orphaned girl found her death at the hands of a mob?

What was an orphaned girl to anyone. Could it be that Salvador cared for her as his own? Would her heart believe he wished to look out for her as a guardian or protecter? She wanted to be loved. Now that there was nothing left for her in Kerim, she decided she would travel with this troop, with Salvador.

———————————————————————————

It was ten grueling days of sauntering in the dust of carts and the wake of marching troops headed to Veita, the next stop on the King’s road to Requim, the capitol city of the Kingdom. Salvador and crew had been on the road till their walking shoes were worn through, their feet ached and bruised from the rocky path. Luci was a casualty of war no one wanted to discus, her memory was pounded into the dust of the road as they wearied on.

Norah, who had become Salvador’s protege of sorts, walked beside the man. Salvador himself was feeling very chipper today. It was pleasant weather for walking despite the many travelers crowding the road on their way to see the King. On the road, he had taught Norah a few of his tricks of foolery. In return, she listened and watched intently, then shared some of her powers with the group as her contribution. She would light the fire at night, scout for game with her mental cognizance and clairvoyance, contributing in little, yet extremely helpful ways.

Jonas was enthralled by her power, Raeas annoyed, Salvador excessively proud, and Clyf amused. The troop made quite the assortment of vagabonds. Salvador was as a father to Norah and on several occasions reminded her, “It’s not what you can do that gives you power, but what you know.”. His philosophy on magic and trickery was not far different from his philosophy on life: the superior mind won in the end. What men wouldn’t pay to know, they would pay to prevent from being made known. After all, blackmail was the most subtle and eloquent form of thievery.

It was to Veita they plodded along. Step after weary step. Raes seemed to have no difficulty, the man was a tank. Jonas took the rear and was a royal pain in it the entire 10-day march with his unceasing obsession with having to speak constantly. The only grace for the others was that the length of the journey and the dust of the road were causing the fellow to become hoarse: thus, gradually he spoke less and less. Here on the 10th day of the trek, he hadn’t spoken yet. Silence had never been so appreciated.
“So, when are we getting there?” The other members of the troop groaned simultaneously as Jonas broke the sweet silence with his crackly and overworked voice.

“Give it a rest, mate. You’ve been at it for nine days.” Salvador said empathetically, or perhaps just pathetically, it was hard to tell. They hadn’t stopped in a village or town for days and their clothes were in awful shape. Their provisions were what ever could be scavenged or hunted down after a long day of walking. All of them were tired and Jonas and his incessant need to hear his own voice wasn’t helping their sprits much.

“Rest you voice, Jonas.” Norah was more gracious than the others. “We might have need of it in Veita. You are the best negotiator of us all.” Jonas beamed brightly at the little girl, gratified. He opened his mouth to express his thanks at the compliment, then thought how counterproductive that would be. He instead smiled and nodded his head to her. Norah smiled back, then turned to face the road ahead and heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

The walls of Veita rose on the horizon. With luck, they’d make the city by dinner time.

—————————————————————————

“The people are all in uproar and unrest here, my lord.” Isis remarked, noticing the crowds bustling about their business, ignoring King and company as they sat on their horses in the middle of the city. Some, noticing them fled away as if the group was contagious. “I don’t like this. Something is wrong.” Isis warned with foreboding in his spirit eeking into his tone.

“There is unrest in the whole of the Kingdom. The people doubt my right to rule them.” The King said in a soft voice, feeling the hurt acutely. It had been nearly a month since the attempt on his life in Kerim. Suddenly he was launched to splendid fame in every city in the Kingdom. But on the heels of his fame came a lie that spread like fire. It was voiced in the Kingdom that he was the illegitimate son of the previous King. That one single lie tore the popular opinion from him in one fell stroke.

Suddenly the people saw him as an interloper, a fortune and glory seeker only caring about a throne. The council under Terrif denied him the throne, so he went to the people and they refused him his birthright also. It hurt him deeply, Isis saw it in his eyes.

“But, there has to be a way to gain their trust back, sire.” Isis beaded rather than proposed the thought. He believed in this man more than any other. He’d seen what the King could do, and swore nothing would shake his faith in this warrior and rightful ruler of the Kingdom.

“Well,” the King shifted in his saddle as his stead swayed, “that is why we’ve come. These people do not know me like you do my friend.” Technically Isis was a bondservant, but the King never treated him as anything less than a true friend. “They have not seen what you have: the sick I have cured, the poor I have pardoned, bond set free, chains broken of slaves, even the dead have been raised from the grave. When they see, they will believe. But I will say this, Isis: the greater power and reward shall be to the ones who have never seen such things, and yet still believe in me.” The King was truly remarkable.

These people would follow him, Isis knew they would. Anyone who knew the King loved him. If he was hated, it was by those in Terrif’s camp who wanted the throne for themselves.

“I hope so. I dearly hope so. Men are fools who do not see through the shallow lies of Terrif.” Ises indignation against the maliciousness of the council grew. How could anyone malign such a man as the King?

“Men are fools, Isis. They believe what they wish to, what their hearts tell them is true. But I tell you, your heart will deceive you and lead you away by your desires. The Kingdom needs someone to guide them. This is why I came, to save the helpless and ignorant from themselves. People need a leader, need a Savior. I came to free the Kingdom. Not just from Terrif and oppressors like him, but from the root of evil: the wicked heart of my people.” The King spoke with such passion. He believed what he said, more so, he never doubted the outcome.

Isis had known him since the King first began his campaign for the throne. The King always knew what he wanted and never took his eyes off the prize. He cared for the people of his Kingdom like no other. Even the poor and criminal were treated with the greatest love and respect. Sure, Isis didn’t understand half of what the man said, but there was never a doubt in his mind: this was a man to follow. This was his destiny and calling in life. He would go to hell and back for this man.

They watched the people on the street kick up dust. Such was life, dust in the wind; here today, gone tomorrow. Like a vapor, like a breath in time, mankind was only given a moment in time to make a difference. Isis knew he never could make an impact on the entire Kingdom, not on his own. But he could follow someone who he knew would.

-------------------to be continued--------->