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Part 1 (Salar)
Subj: The wait is over.
Date: 9/26/00 9:23:59 AM Central Daylight Time
From: (Dar'nay)
To: (Salar)
I hope you enjoy it......
It is yours, a gift from me to you. You may do what you
wish with it, keep
it, show it to a few friends or show it to the world. The
story is yours...
as you can guess by the title :).
yours always
Jon.
*************************************************
A Story for Salar
Silence.
then the coarse sound of a sea bird as it wheeled its way
across the form of the island, the great sweeping curves
dulled by tide and time. After this show of elegance a
flash of ungainly manoeuvring took place as it alighted
upon the great stone platform at the centre of the
island.
It stood uncertainly for a moment, ruffling its unruly
but beautiful snow white feathers back into position,
each one standing for a moment like an icicle from an
arctic cave wall. It pushed them around with its sandy
yellow beak until it seemed satisfied and set its
ponderous bulk down upon the sun-warmed stone. The veins
of white running through the surface of the stone seeming
to lead from the bird like so many tiny strikes of
lightning, caught in the moment.
This restful situation was disturbed but a moment later
by a short pop. The bird instantly spun around awkwardly
to look upon the empty air at the centre of the platform.
This time it saw the spark jump into existence from the
air out of nothingness and then disappear again as
quickly as it had come. Another followed it, more quickly
this time, and another and another, hundreds were now
pouring into the air, a sea of gold flowing out of a
patch of air just like champagne out of a newly opened
bottle.
The bird took to the air squawking furiously at the
amorphous mass that was beginning to ripple and waver
before it. Diminutive vortices tracing lazy paths across
its surface as it began to alter shape to stretch to
almost six feet in height before the surprised observer
now gazing warily at the thin column.
Soon features began to solidify out of the sculptured
mass. An abrupt protuberance in the column took the form
of an outstretched hand, golden sparks writhing over the
fingers as they came into existence, the skin therein dry
and wrinkled like some ancient hide preserved and hung
over the fireplace to recount past glories.
The ring of flame signifying the boundary between his
fully formed flesh and the continually steadying mass of
tawny flame raced up his arm revealing the sweeping
curves of his dark robes, their ashen darkness
contrasting sharply with that which was bringing them
back into corporeal existence. Sweeping across the
expanse of his shoulders swathed in the shadowy cloth of
his voluminous robes the symmetric crests met in the
centre of his back with barely a ripple in the surface of
the unnatural fluid. Now sweeping both up to his head and
down over his torso the crackling morass of miracle
accelerated downwards from his neck towards the ground,
the flaxen flow seeming to run down his torso outlining
the silver fastenings of his robes each one now shining
brightly in the clear sunlight like diminutive stars. As
the hills and hummocks, creases and chasms of his worn
leather boots took shape the amorphous flame began to
wane the dancing sparks sputtering and vanishing once
more into oblivion.
Finally the long sinewy column of his neck arched out of
the aperture at the top of his robes the pulse of life
evident there immobile in it's journey through the
vessels of his body as the living fire began to retreat
over the features of his face. A thin pair of lips were
drawn into a smile as the writhing ochre embers withdrew
from them. Further definition came with the emergence of
nose and eyes. The eyes were closed as if he were
entering a room in which a great surprise had been laid,
in this case so as to not spoil the surprise of the
re-emergence into this new world. The sparks were now
drawing frenzied shapes in the air which solidified more
slowly into unruly strands of hair, dark as the bark of
the most ancient oaks within the forests of his homeland.
soon he stood there fully formed as the last of the
sparks wormed their way across his flesh and disappeared
with a last exclamation to mark the event before allowing
silence to wash back into the scene and over this man who
once more drew breath.
He opened his eyes slowly to see the bird dipping low
over the quicksilver waves to hoist an unsuspecting fish
from its liquid home.
He smiled softly, to himself. He was pleased.
*************
Well there it is. See you later today my friend, I
hope.
____________________________________________________________
*********************************************************
I loved his story. I had great fun thinking about it
all day. By evening I was working on a reply.
Soon I was ready to send back the
next chapter.
********************************************************
For Dar'nay :)
Salar sighed happily, scrunching her toes in the
sparkling sand. Its cool, damp grittiness tickled her
toes as its many small crystals delighted her eyes.
Everything she could see shone in the morning light. It
was as though a great jewel had been worked in bit by bit
into the very fabric of the Age. The very grass upon the
dunes glowed with dewy emeralds of the dawn.
Yawning sleepily, Salar pulled herself upright by a
nearby lightly glittering rock, taking in a slight, sharp
edge in the breath of the sea. Crisp was the word for it.
Like land and sea, the air’s soft contours seemed
lightly edged with crystals, icy ones. The traveler
shivered into her cape as she brushed off the minute,
shining shards of silicates and carbons. It blew like
fairy dust in the breeze. She watched it swirl and dance
in the wind. It would have been worth coming here just
for this beach alone. She slowly smiled ....thinking...
that it was a pity she didn’t know any glass-makers.
The tan cape suddenly twitched aside, cold air startling
her out of her sleepy reverie. She moved into the full
sunlight, and relaxed.
Ahhhh, it was warming up rapidly! GOOD!! If the day was
as fair as it now seemed to promise, this would be a
delightful jaunt indeed. Even if.... Oh how she hoped she
would not be alone, even here. So many journeys had
seemed destined to be so. Even among the kind D'nian folk
she had lately met, her heart still longed for someone to
share her wonder, her questions, and observations. Those
she had met had little time to truly explain things, to
just plain chat. She hoped he would be different. He had
asked her to come here, after all. It was a hopeful sign.
She was amazed that she was so ready to trust this
stranger, but so it was. She saw kindness written in the
very lines that had encouraged her to follow from place
to place, and saw signs of provision made for those he
obviously hoped would come.
How astonished she had been to find his letter in
D’ni! The letter had appeared suddenly on her desk
in the house in which she camped, but it seemed so old.
Was it to her alone? or to anyone who might come? When
unrolled, the heavy parchment revealed in its flowing
lines an invitation “You can find me in Ethlem, my
friend. I look forward to meeting you. If I am not there,
please feel free to enjoy my house. You would be most
welcome company.” Sketched on it was a map that led
her to a small common library, where another letter
directed her his korvahkh hidden amongst more fictional
books on the shelves.
She had left a note for Atrus, letting him know that she
might have found another survivor. She sealed the copy of
her invitation in it, and left it at his work desk. She
wrote on it that it should be opened if she did not
return. That was yesterday. She wondered if Atrus had
read it? Would he follow? Could he? She had deliberately
left each letter as she found it, using the notes she
made from each as her guide. This was no guarantee he
could find her, but at least it would improve the odds.
He would be nervous about it certainly, as some of the
older links were chancy indeed.
Her would-be host had not been in Ethlem when she
arrived. Salar found fresh sheets upon the beds, fruit
and honey-seed cakes in the pantry, and a letter placed
prominently upon a large stone desk that directed her to
an age where he planned to meet her upon the morrow, but
no sign whatever of her host. No explanations were
forthcoming either. She spent the day thoroughly
exploring his home Age. It was a small island so it
didn’t take long. The courtyard where she arrived
was decorated with fish, the symbology of which utterly
escaped her. They were silly looking things, but
beautifully carved. He definitely had a whimsical side.
She walked his protected balustrades, grateful for the
railing that allowed her to safely appreciate the beauty
of the stark cliffs from dizzying heights. His study was
the most amazing place of all, for there she found a
guild writer’s cloak and several models of
impossible Ages, including a long crystalline shard. Were
these really written? She could only imagine them as
finished articles.
He was a thoughtful man, whoever he was, and a very
likeable one, by his writings. A skillful oil of a
handsome, brown-haired young gentleman had hung upon his
study wall. She had gazed some little time into the
blazing hazel-green eyes that faced her there.Was it him?
It seemed likely that it was. How long ago was it done?
She couldn’t tell. There was a timeless feeling to
the whole place. Every time the great oak clock counted a
portion of its twenty hour cycle, she was heartily
astonished. The evidence of its continuence seemed the
only connection to the realities she knew. Nothing seemed
to happen here. That was what made it feel so
D’nian, that sense that nothing had changed much in
many years.
A flanking portrait over the stone fireplace had been
sooted to the point of unreadibility. The dark-robed
figure within it held a staff... Had the man been
injured? She strained at the image in a futile effort
extract more details. If she returned there tonight, she
would clean it. By the time she had found it last night,
she had been too weary.
The old stone dwelling where she had spent a warm,
restful night had amazed her. He used two, actually three
libraries. (for his sitting room had also been filled
with papers and books, all piled round a elderly green
velvet chair.) Salar could read but a fraction of its
contents at present. She longed to change that, to tease
the meanings from each text. How she yearned to enjoy the
expressions of the rare and fine mind that had filled
shelves,desks, and tables to overflowing!
She had spent the evening lost in his rehevkor, which was
helpfully marked with English equivalents in the margins.
She had sought to decipher the writing of this world. The
letter on the desk had marked this Age as her next stop,
and she had longed for a clues to reveal her final
destination. Such words as she had been able to find
reassurred here. She had realized there would be life
here, but nothing could have prepared her for the beauty,
the wonder that graced every step she had taken today.
And despite her progress, she rapidly realized that truly
throwing off the shackles of ignorance in that place
meant learning more than a half-dozen tongues. Many of
his Age notes were in English, a great help as she had
known it from her youth. Some of his writings spoke of
guild meetings, councils, and the history of a place
called Discworld. Catherine would love that Age, she
thought. It was so...odd! The most puzzling references
spoke of a substance that existed there. He referred to
it as Octarine. A long lecture spoke of the dangers of it
reaching critical mass, and the sparks that marked such a
state. She guessed it was some sort of naturally
occurring battery acid. Truly, it sounded like a
remarkable place. Was that where she was going? Sounded
dangerous.
Besides these works she found some poetry in French and a
few words of a Latin plainsong. Then the pathway of her
understanding rapidly darkened. All she had been able to
do was gaze dumbly at the oddest markings, these appeared
to be actual runes.
Salar bent and marked the beach with her finger, tracing
out a D’nian letter and then one of those runes from
memory. Not bad. Only a hundred or so figures and she
would have learned the alphabets. She chuckled to
herself. At this rate she would be ready for her first
primer in....oh...say a decade?! It was, of course,
impractical to make any plans. The vagarities of the
links and the fissure ruled her life. This was a
delightful interlude, but unless her new friend was also
interested in a lasting friendship, the tides of the Ages
would soon sweep her away.
Speaking of tides, this one was rising. The first of many
small wavelets washed over her toes. It was time to move
to higher ground. She clambered up the rocks behind her
and replaced her shoes.
Still no sign of him.
Wonder fought with worry in the mild lines of her face.
From a hidden pocket of her cape, she brought out a
battered green notebook. She reviewed her scrawls in it.
Yes, according to her notes this should be the place.
Where was he, this mysterious friend of many letters?
A large sea bird called loudly as it sailed over the
shoreline. Salar looked up and traced its graceful flight
out into the blues of sky and sea. Was it a sea gull or a
crane? Its flowing white outline was difficult to
quantify at this distance, even with her glasses. The
bird’s motion carried her eyes across the sand bar.
There the sun’s bright reflection broke into
innumerable brilliant facets that shifted constantly upon
the surface of the blue-green deep. Moments turned to
minutes as she lost her concentration in the glorious
view.
Salar laughed at herself. Whoever he was, he wasn’t
likely to appear on the waves! She should be looking
inland most likely. Just because the descriptive book had
brought her to the shore didn’t mean that all the
links would lead here. She looked down and giggled
slightly as she imagined the Writer arriving at high
tide, his robes trailing in the seaweed and jellyfish
that were even now reclaiming the beach. No, he would
have secured a location beyond this point of land. She
turned and followed a slender path up the rise of the
dune.
The bird swooped and turned with her, sailing ahead to
the center of the island which rose gently on all sides.
She stopped for a second. Wait a minute. The top was
leveled off! She watched the bird swoop in for a nose
first landing, barely righting itself in time. Salar
laughed at the native clown as it posed and preened and
strutted upon the slab. She continued her ascent.
Whatever answers to be found here would likely be near
the only man-made object she had yet seen. The view from
there should be excellent.
As her pathway went behind a small stand of trees she
suddenly heard loud squawking. She froze for a second,
uncertain. The bird flashed by her flying for all it was
worth. She breathed again, so it had been startled not
hurt. That could mean...
She scrambled up the hill and came again to a cleared
area. Sure enough, a tall figure was appearing on the
platform in a shower of gold sparks. Salar watched him
finish materializing with wide-eyed astonishment. Such a
link! How was that done? Then the flood of delight filled
her as she realized, the waiting was over! He was here!
Her new friend stood quite still, apparently watching the
deposed king of the mountain fish for his dinner once
more. At one point he turned to follow its motion, and it
was then she saw a slight smile light his face. She found
him fascinating to watch. But... had he seen her.... even
yet? She stood still for a time, watching him. He made no
move. She tilted her head considering the matter.
At last she decided upon a course of action. She finished
climbing up quietly behind him, put her hands to her
mouth and shouted.
“SSSHHHHOOORRAAAHHH!!!!”
It is amazing how far a tall man can jump when he is
truly startled.
*************************************************************
heh heh heh
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