Tales Of Grimea (3 page)

When his rest was over, the two footer
readied himself to feel once more. It was now high morning, and
he’d thought a few things through. Instead of feeling just all
around, he sent his senses in an orb around him from the get go. It
was coming to his attention that under was not quite always under,
and as with many new revelations he took this one with wonder and a
change of thought. When he passed the globe, this time, he could
feel smaller things as well. Realizing that his senses were
growing, the two footer gently pushed on through, and was surprised
to feel little resistance. It was as if the space he probed was
devoid of anything. He thought for a few seconds that he’d reached
the end of the world, and so spent a few minutes basking in the
world and in himself. Then, when caution’s grip loosened, the man
pushed on further, until he reached white rock. Then he moved on
and felt more rock, and more, then something akin to the red
tongues which were sometimes left behind when lightning smashed its
foot against the ground. There were no living things to touch, and
yet the man was not disheartened, for he was the lake and could
feel all around him. With a deep breath he moved on, sensing
himself moving slowly. He spun slowly, and yet was still. He moved
not, and yet at the same time hurtled through the void, as he could
tell by his distance from the rocks. It was only when night fell
that he realized that he’d felt moon and stars. It was a revelation
of wonder, for he’d always assumed that the moon and stars hid
during daylight. Things were proving different indeed. That night,
he did not sleep or push on, but rather chose to pull back his
probe until he could sense even the smallest insects again. It was
that sense of unity in being the lake that brought him comfort
through the night.

When the sun rose on the third day, the two
footer had reached inner peace. He pushed through, going farther
into the void beyond his world than he’d ever dared. He became sure
that there was no living thing outside his void, and so stretched
himself thin, taking a stroll. Thus, he was shocked in the same
sense as being dowsed by cold water when his sensed something.
Immense beings, beyond his understanding. They walked between the
stars gently, through paths known only to them.

Hmm?
Remarked a voice in his mind,
strange and echoing. The man was so stunned that he said nothing,
and the voice repeated its sound. There was a sense of question,
and the two footer assumed he was being contacted. The being was so
large that he felt an urge he’d never had before. He tried to
contact it, focus on it, and enter it. Pain blossomed in him and
the two footer retreated.

Gently, the being touched him and the two
footer almost felt himself snap in half. It pulled back hastily,
and he realized that it had only tried to communicate. A sense of
disappointment came through, and he felt guilty for not being able
to speak with it. There were almost a hundred of them, and he
sensed them talk to one another. He felt jealous and lonely, so
tried once more to communicate with the star walkers with their
long strides, despite the pain. His attempts bordered on
desperation, for he wanted more than anything to speak with them
and be like them. He wanted to be one with these amazing beings, as
he was one with the jungle. He needed their contact. He could tell
that the attempts were killing him, and that he would never be able
to step out of his body again. Still he tried, until finally he
snapped. The pain was too much to handle and he almost blacked out,
but was grabbed by someone.

The being he was trying to contact took him
gently, preserving his mind, keeping him safe and trying to tell
him things too big for his primitive mind to understand. When it
released him, he was sucked back into his own body, which he knew
would become his trap forever more. With a gasp, he awoke in the
inside of a burning tree, with the sun setting, and knew that he
would never be able to feel again. He tried, to great pain. He knew
that he’d set the tree on fire, but knew not how.

The two footer went back to his cave,
haunted by what he’d tried and seen. Only two pieces of information
were gleaned from the star walkers, these mighty god figures. The
first was the understanding that what he’d done, how he felt, was
part of something larger. There were no specifics. All he knew was
that living things were able to learn how to use something deep
inside. The second piece of information was how the star walkers
crossed great distances. In his cave, he used blood to draw a
symbol: Two curves mirroring one another, almost touching. In their
tails three dots sat, and at their heads triangles waited. The
holes of void met inside and created the pathways for these great
beings using the dots and triangles.

The two footer was sure that with time, the
knowledge gleaned from them would prove useful. He knew that if the
thing within him weren’t broken, he would be able to use it to
great effect after his revelation, but there was no use crying over
what was. He would make sure the others understand and keep the
knowledge going until it became of better use. Time after time he
drew the symbol, filling the walls of his cave. Time after time he
repeated the revelation of magical wonders depending on inner
strength and vitality, knowing that there was a world far beyond
him, and a path that only he could walk.

Year: 801 post Kerallus. 251 Pre Adventus

Claudis made her way outside of the nice,
small home, savoring the scent of cooking pudding mingled with
early spring flowers. She walked along the path to her small herb
garden, making sure not to step over daffodils as she dead. The
flowers seemed to look up at the woman in appreciation.

She hummed in a soothing manner as she cut
small snippets of sage, thornswash and Heldibliss. Scissors snipped
and the purple flower fell to her hands with a solemn sigh. She
offered a prayer to Til, god of nature and forests, for the boon.
It was said that offering such prayers gave the plants incentive to
release more flavor. She walked slowly back, where a beautiful man
sat by a fireplace, knife in hand. She frowned. “Markus Demask
Dernagen, what do you think you’re doing?”

He looked up at her. As they sometimes did,
the curves of his facial features took her by surprise and Claudis
felt out of breath. His nose was slightly overlarge, and his messy
hair often found its way into places hair had no reason to be, such
as imperfect ears. Still, the sun’s rays kissed his lips through a
nearby window, and somehow he seemed to light up their little
living room. “Why do you need to know?” he asked confidently. This
was the voice people didn’t often hear, mostly because he was too
polite. With her, things were different.

“Because you might be trying to make me
another wooden ring.”

“Maybe I am.” At that, the woman rolled her
eyes. Her husband, for all of his good qualities, was not a
craftsman. Woodwork didn’t come naturally to him, as was evident by
the green bandage wrapped around his left thumb. Unfortunately, he
could be as headstrong as a Gost. Just as the troll like things
head-butted rocks to get at the water within, Markus liked to
tackle challenges. Seeing her worried glance, he invited her over
to him. When she came to check his hands for further injury,
however, the man instead cupped her face with a hand. “Look into my
eyes. I know what we talked about.”

“So you know I didn’t really mean what I’d
said about back then.”

“Of course. I also know that if it were easy,
you’d be more than happy to get a handcrafted wooden ring. You just
don’t want me to get hurt.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been through battlefields and this,” he
showed her his thumb, “Is the injury I carry with the most pride.
For you, I’d lose arms and legs. Let me make you happy and I will
fly over a solemn moon in my dreams.” Now really, when he put
things like that, there was little to be said. She let him continue
fiddling with the knife, surprised to see how far he’d gotten.

Hours later, when Sol was finished pulling
the sun back to its resting spot, Claudis and Markus sat down to
have their dinner. She had brewed them a thornwash tea, and he had
in turn brought out cheeses and breads. As she sat at the table,
the dark haired woman saw a circle of relatively well-shaved
ashwood. It was almost as white as his skin, spotted with a tiny
red dot here and there, and obviously a few sizes too large. A
simple chain had been passed through, and it hunched upon the
table, average and unassuming. Little did that small ornament know
that it was the best ring that had ever been made. Her impossible
miracle smiled, and she smiled to him in turn, saying nothing.
Words were too difficult to summon at that moment.

A knock came from their kitchen door, and
after exchanging puzzled glances she went to answer. A little boy
stood there, all freckles and energy. A part of her lamented not
having one of her own, but luck had its way of taking and giving
things. “Hello, Jareny!” she announced loudly.

“Evening, Mrs. Dernagen,” the child answered,
fidgeting. He was polite as usual, but she could sense his urgency.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but Ma asks if you have any of that
burlen honey left. Da fancies some and we ran out a week ago.” She
informed him loudly that she did, thus saving herself of explaining
to her husband. After slight hesitation, she bade the child wait
and went to take her ring with its chain from the table, placing
the now necklace over her head and around her neck. She mouthed,
“Thank you,” and her husband lit up. Then Claudis told little
Jareny to go inside and get himself some cheese while she fetched
the honey.

Claudis’ well-worn leather shoes thumped
against dirt for a few seconds, then she turned left into grass,
making sure to walk carefully. Night was relatively safe in this
part of Veld. They didn’t even keep their Regalians hidden, for
they were part of the fair kingdom and people were civilized.
Still, one could hardly explain that to a snake or a belg just
sitting there, waiting for a bite with impossible patience. She
walked with eyes peeled under the moon’s solemn grace, silently
asking Hydra for luck as was customary until she reached the small
wooden structure they used for a secondary storage. The small room
was wide enough for her to stand within and spin, so long as the
tall woman kept both arms firmly at her side. Shelves lined the
thing, stacked high with all sorts of things they’d chosen to keep.
Both the man and his wife were hoarders at heart, and despite
trying to keep that embarrassing fact to themselves it showed now
and then. There was a small ladder on the dusty floor to help reach
the higher things, and Claudis unfurled it in the tight space,
breathing musty air through her mouth. She stepped on the first
step, moves on shakily onto the second, then felt a small wiggle
beneath her. The ladder didn’t sit right on the ground. She went up
one more step and suddenly, Claudis felt her world turn sideways,
then heard a thud.

When Claudis awoke, everything was strange.
Something about her body didn’t sit right, and her head was
strangely turned sideways. There was no pain, but when she tried to
push it a little straighter her arm’s movement was strangely shaky.
She stood in a grassy place filled with boulders, and could not for
the life of her understand how she had come to be here.
Furthermore, dull silence echoed in her ears, as if they were
covered. Eyes scrolled downwards and she realized that something
was horribly wrong. Her legs were bent wrong, and they should have
screamed in protest. All the right one did was flop, and the woman
knew she should be in terrible pain. Still there was nothing. All
around her people slowly got to their feet, and she wondered why
they had been sleeping on the ground wherever this was. An older
lady made her way towards her, and Claudis assumed she must have
been injured too, for the woman walked a pronounced limp. In the
gloom a child hopped slowly, as if it were difficult.

Then dark clouds unveiled the pale moon and
she gasped in horror. This was not a garden or a park, but rather
her town’s graveyard. The boulders were tombstones, and what she
had taken for small houses had been mausoleums. Even worse, the old
woman limping towards her was partially decayed, flesh falling off
her like pieces of horror. The young child was actually barely more
than half a skeleton, hopping upon its midsection. How had she
gotten here?

Suddenly Claudis felt her ears pop and sound
burst to life. Three tones she heard. The first was an incessant
whisper, gliding like oil upon water or a bird with too few
feathers. The second was a female voice, ringing out in prayer like
a clear bell. The third was a scuttle beneath a nearby tree, and it
was to this closest sound she turned, putting the two others behind
her. The whisper called to her very being, speaking of dark things
and maggots, pulling at the strings of her being. She ignored it,
and a dull throb began to mount in her head. Instead she focused on
the scurrying man. He was terrified and yet instantly recognizable.
“Markus? What are you doing here? What’s going on? Claudis meant to
say these words, but only managed to gurgle. She found it
unreasonable to address the scene around them. Part of her
discredited it entirely.

“Claudis! Oh Claudis, what have they done to
you!” He began to back away, and the woman realized that she was
walking towards him in a fearsome manner. She began to reassure
him, then to stop, thinking it best to stay still with injuries
like the one on her right leg. She was unable to stop. Unbidden,
feet shod in black moved on regardless of her will. With horror,
she realized that there was no control in her. She began to drool,
yet could not stop it.

“Now,” hissed the sinister voice that had
been whispering, “Go forth and kill the human, my undead beauties.
Feast on flesh fresher than yours, feel jealousy ferment in
you.”