Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 21, 2006 11:57:10 GMT -5
Chapter Nine: The Prophet Part Five: Prelude to a Private Moment
The Imam sat alone in his quarters, meditating. At first, that was all Khalid saw as he looked in upon him in the vision. His breathing was steady and his shoulders barely moved. His great, white wings lay spread out to his sides in a relaxed posture. The muscles of his back, where they showed through the opening of his shirt between his wings, were powerful but soothed.
The room was dark, as it usually was, and Huja was sitting alone with his back toward the doorway. Khalid could not help but notice, however, that a sliver of light appeared within the room, just briefly, from the door, shimmering across the environment and then vanishing just as quickly as it had come. Someone had entered. The Imam did not stir.
Khalid's perspective in the vision did not allow him a view of the entry, though he dearly wished it were otherwise. He even found himself turning his body about in reality to try to catch a glimpse of the new arrival, but the images before him remained constant.
He was not to be disappointed, however. Moments later, the figure stepped into his full view: a lithe form in a closely cut, semi-transparent gown that accented a surprisingly curvaceous frame. Dove-like wings and neck-length, very-curly blond hair were the only distinguishing features Khalid had to work with from his angle, but they were enough that he recognized the figure immediately.
"Nihan Bath-Asher," he muttered.
The Imam's head rose without turning to face the arrival. Khalid could make out some brief movement in his lips, and then it was gone.
The colors returned, and then they too faded away from him. The prophet was alone in his chambers. A discarded black rose lay before him, and his hand was still clenched tightly around an empty vial. The visions were over.
So. . . that was it? Even his prayer had failed him? Certainly, it had not been the most specific of prayers, and yes, the things he had seen had seemed more relevant to his needs than those he had seen before, but it wasn't enough. Khalid knew in his heart that such glimpses and sights were not what he was here to receive: they were not the things that would be of interest to the Imam.
As he pondered this, staring down at the fallen rose upon the floor, it seemed as though his mind was carried away to some distant location. The colors did not come, nor did the delirium of the hashish take a hold of his thoughts.
There was a vision: a newer, grander vision, and this time, unlike all the others, it felt real. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": An unexpected guest! ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 22, 2006 13:50:17 GMT -5
Chapter Ten: The Master and Apprentice Part One: Questions and Answers
Nihan was caught quite off her guard. This was not the best way to be, especially for a Hand, whose job it is to catch others off their own collective guards and then proceed to make that hesitation fatal. Still, she was in no immediate danger. There was no one around to take advantage of her hesitation but the Imam, and he would not be killing her without good reason.
Nihan and Huja were alone in the room. The Imam still had his back to her, and Nihan was staring down at him uncertainly. How had he known it was her, let alone that anyone was here at all?
"I said, 'Good evening, Miss Bath-Asher,'" Huja repeated, still not turning to face her, "and I would appreciate a response."
"I-" she began confusedly, "I mean, greetings, my Most Holy Imam-" she had been intending to continue, beginning a question with "how" but she never got it underway, on account of a well- chosen interruption by her master.
"When a man spends enough of his time sneaking up upon others, you would be well advised to assume that it is very difficult to sneak up on that man in return," Huja said, "and as to how I spotted you: you have a familiar presence and a strong perfume."
Her perfume! Of course! Nihan kicked herself mentally. She should have known better than to have worn it, but she thought the extra aroma might have aided in her persuasiveness. Still, she was here, and even though she had lost the element of surprise she had hoped for, she could at least bring up the subject she had hoped to persuade him on.
Huja rose slowly to his feet, then walked across the room to a large, wooden chest, which he unlocked and began rifling through its contents.
"I'll keep that in mind," she said, "I was wondering if you had given any more thought to that proposition I made to you."
"I have considered it," Huja said, pulling a pair of somethings out of the chest, examining them, and returning them to their place, "but I have not yet reached a conclusion, nor is this quite the time to be discussing it."
And why not? she thought with a flare of annoyance. She felt slightly cheated. All that effort fine-tuning her appearance, and the Imam wasn't even looking at her. . .
"Because," he said, again in answer to her unspoken question, "I have a job for you." He seemed to find the somethings he was looking for. "You'll need to change into something you can run around in," he added, turning around and walking toward her. He walked right up to her too, so that his face was barely an inch away from her own, and Nihan felt a cold, hard weight come to rest against her chest. So he could see her now. Now what?
"Take these," he said, looking her straight in the eye, "you'll need them."
Nihan looked down to see a pair of large, sturdy daggers, pommels up, being pressed tightly against her bosom. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": The most powerful weapons ever. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 22, 2006 13:52:02 GMT -5
Chapter Ten: The Master and Apprentice Part Two: Newbie Daggers
"I already have daggers," Nihan said softly, resting her hands upon the hilts but not really grabbing hold of them. She wasn't giving up, though it was clear she would be receiving no immediate reward for her efforts.
Her intention had been to keep the Imam close to her. He could not step away from her now without dropping the daggers or pulling from her hands the very implements that he intended to be giving her. Either should have been an awkward gesture. Apparently, Huja disagreed. He scoffed at her comment, releasing his hold on the weapons as he stepped away, returning to the chest to retrieve things of his own. Nihan fumbled but caught the weapons- All that hand-eye coordination training had paid off after all.
"Those. . . things that we gave you," Huja said, once again searching though the chest, "are most definitely not daggers. Not in any way that counts, at least."
"But," Nihan began, "they were issued to me with my other equipment-" She shifted the daggers to one hand and slipped one of the items in question from beneath her gown, examining it. Her reasons for actually having them with her right now were complicated. She had no reason to think she would be needing them, but the Imam had instructed her to keep a weapon or two on her person at all times, just in case. They were concealed beneath her gown, and he should not have had any idea whether she were carrying them or not, but if Nihan's plans had gone even better than expected, there was the chance of her gown coming actually off at some point, and if it did so, she did not want to risk Imam's disappointment at not finding them there.
Huja tucked something under his shirt, closing the chest and locking it. "They were issued to you, yes," he said, "but that doesn't mean they're not garbage. You don't really expect to hurt someone with that, do you?"
In truth, the 'dagger' was little more than a triangular stub of metal with a handle attached to it. Nihan couldn't honestly say it was very threatening, but- "Then why do you give them to us if they're useless?" she asked.
"Well, they're not completely useless," he said, "but they're close enough. The reason we issue them sprouts from an interesting paradox. Firstly, we cannot afford to equip every new recruit with a high quality pair of weapons. Anything we can mass produce and distribute will be at least somewhat inferior. We also cannot afford to send Hands into the field with anything but superior arms. We tried at first to give them the best we could offer and hope that they'd be getting better ones on their own, but we found that too many of them were attempting to rely upon the weapons we provided." He came over, taking the weapon from her grip and wiggling it in demonstration.
"So we tried not giving them daggers at all. They'd have to find some of their own that way, right?" he asked, "But that didn't work too well. In fact, a few new Hands actually managed to get most of their way through several, critical assignments before they even realized they were supposed to be armed." Nihan looked amused by the concept. "I know," Huja said, "it was an embarrassment, but we learned not to trust in that system either."
"So you settled on. . . ?"
Huja snapped the mock weapon in half with one hand. "We call them 'newbie daggers,'" he said, "The idea is that we give our new members the most horrid excuses for weapons we can come up with, while still lending them the vague appearance of daggers, so the recruits will recognize both that such things should be a standard part of their equipment, as well as their desperate need to find a replacement before getting any work done."
He dropped the two pieces of dagger on the ground, where they fractured all over again. "If all else fails," he said, "we expect them to break fairly early."
"Does it work?" Nihan asked, eying the remains of what she had thought was a weapon.
"Not really," said Huja, "The recruits take too good care of the" an explicative "things. I'm just hoping my own apprentice will be wise enough not to forget that before it becomes her own time to enter combat."
"I won't forget," Nihan promised.
"I should hope not," Huja said, "You've only got five minutes." --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": Nihan forgets. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 22, 2006 13:53:15 GMT -5
Chapter Ten: The Master and Apprentice Part Three: The Ways of Power
Shaikh Ali bin Ishmael was not the type to be easily intimidated. One simply did not rise from obscurity to becoming the immortal leader of a grand civilization by letting other people push one around. Ali certainly hadn't. People had always tried to interfere with his plans, even from his earliest days, and he had learned quickly how to determine which threats had come from those who could actually fulfill them, and which were just the spewing of hot air by men who held no true power.
Those who had no power could be ignored easily enough or dealt with in other fashions. Those who had it, however, had to be intimidated themselves, and if that didn't work, then one must learn to stand ready with every possible countermeasure.
Intimidation and faulty displays of strength were what Ali was best at, so it was easy enough for him to spot them in others. Ali's greatest accomplishment, for example, had been done more as a display of prowess than actually to create anything useful. It had been to build a grand city in his name- a city, he said, of magic and prestige. A city for his immortal brothers and sisters to dwell in: his fellow atomy.
The city was really quite impressive. It had high walls and was set upon the great mountains overlooking the alchemist guild and that little jinn settlement of Odie's. It was shaped in a perfect octagon, with a tower at each point, symbolizing each of the eight magical elements (or at least the eight according to Ali's interpretation). The walls seemed to glow with authority, and all who saw it knew right away that the man who ruled there was a man to be reckoned with. Surely, none would come to that place making petty demands of Ali! He was even thinking of changing his title to Sultan or Pharaoh or something. Unfortunately, impressive cities weren't enough of a deterrent for everyone. It sure hadn't stopped the Hands from sending their agents in, demanding that Ali come meet with their leader, and Ali was not so stupid as to ignore their requests straight off. Power or no, he must behave as a diplomat.
Still, the Hands were not to be trusted. Ali knew that perfectly well as he glided up the main street of Shara, heading for their grand cathedral. They might try to threaten him, now that they thought they had him helpless. They even specifically insisted that he come alone! Ali was no fool. He was prepared for everything.
He fluttered up the steps, eying the rather nondescript figures that wandered by him on every side. Any one of these could be their agent, just waiting to pounce upon him. Oh, they would be in for such a surprise if they tried! Ali had great faith in his snipers.
The anakim seemed to appear out of nowhere. He was a truly impressive sight by himself, standing at nearly seven feet of toned muscle and penetrating eyes, yet his outfit was unremarkable, and his demeanor almost casual, rather than deliberately commanding, so that the sheer grace and raw presence with which he presented himself might almost be seen as an accident. Ali knew there was no mistaking who he was.
"You must be Huja," he commented lazily, intentionally ignoring the other man's title so as to establish his position as the man's equal or better as early on in their conversation as possible.
"And you must be that atomy I've been waiting for," said the Imam, "I do believe I asked you to come alone." --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": Plan B ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 22, 2006 13:54:05 GMT -5
Chapter Ten: The Master and Apprentice Part Four: Amateur Diplomacy
"And I have," said Shaikh Ali, "exactly as you requested."
Huja could not see her, but he knew she was there, moving gracefully along the top of the cathedral toward her target. Her timing couldn't have been better.
"To the contrary," the Imam said, "You haven't."
There was a scream, and moments later, a large, red and blue mass came tumbling down from the cathedral's rooftop above, landing right next to the two men with a sickening crunch. The crossbow, broken in the fall, was still visible among the oddly-folded bits of the arcanus's corpse. Huja only gave it a passing glance, but he saw enough in that instant. Perfect. A cut to an artery, a few slashes, and a deep stab beneath the third rib. The amateur assassin had barely known what hit him.
"I-" Ali stammered, "I've never seen that man before in my life!"
Huja could sense her presence, the way she slipped down the side of the cathedral out of sight, not making a sound, homing instantly in on her next foe.
"I'm not interested in whether you've seen him," the Imam said, "I'm interested in you keeping your end of the bargain. I suggest you call them off while you still have three left."
Not quite so loud this time. Someone might have noticed the scuffle, but little else- not until the body was unceremoniously shoved out the window into the street, anyway. The commotion was more than enough to confirm to the Shaikh that yet another of his snipers had been removed from their post permanently.
"I- I-" he stammered.
Huja was impressed. The grace at which she moved, slipping from building to building like she had been doing it for years. . . He had never seen a novice so competent. It was almost as if she were. . .
Another scuffle. Another body in the street.
. . .as if she were bred for this.
"Blast it all," the Shaikh shouted, turning his back on the Imam, "Open fire!"
Huja waited, ready to dodge the attack. There was nothing. The last sniper, if he still lived, had already wisely fled the area.
Shaikh Ali bin Ishmael turned slowly about to face the anakim. He was pale as bones. The Imam had seen that face before. It was the face of a man who expected to die at any moment and knew there was nothing left he could try to save himself.
Huja shot him a piercing look. The atomy's wings almost stopped beating, and he faltered in the air witlessly.
"I- I-" he said. He had nothing left to say. Nothing he said could have saved him here anyway.
"I'm glad to see that you're finally in compliance with our instructions," said Huja, "and alone. As requested."
The atomy swallowed audibly. It was quite a feat for one of his size.
"We have nothing left to discuss," said the Imam.
Shaikh Ali bin Ishmael made no move. The earth shook. Behind him, a shorter, female anakim seemed to appear out of thin air and casually slit the atomy's throat. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": An even-less cooperative diplomat. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 22, 2006 13:55:37 GMT -5
Chapter Ten: The Master and Apprentice Part Five: Scotland's Finest
The farmer fiddled with his hat nervously. He was short for an arcanus, perhaps even shorter than Salem if one took the time to compare the two. He was also getting along in years, something that happened rather readily to the bluer inhabitants of the world. He had no hair anywhere on his body, like any member of his race, but his eyes were deeply shadowed from the years, while his disposition remained almost obnoxiously cheerful and friendly nonetheless.
Huja knew only a little about him, mostly from the Hand who had been dispatched to the man's native land of Scotland only a few weeks before. He was a farmer, not actually any kind of political figure, but he was the one the other farmers had agreed would be best suited for meeting with the Hands. He was married and had no children. None of the farmers did. They did once, but they had lost them all in some incident with a local fairy recently. Now that the populace was getting old, they were looking for someone to take over the care of their farms when they passed on.
Before the farmer, on the table, a now-cold pie (product of his wife's cooking and best wishes to the Imam) lay at the center of the room's attention.
"I dinna know ye had a beau," the farmer was saying apologetically, glancing meaningfully at Nihan, "o' I be sure she'd been a'sendin me with one fer each o' ye."
"I beg your pardon?" said the Imam curiously. What exactly was a 'byoo'?
The farmer seemed to sense he had said something amiss and looked back and forth between the two anakim uncertainly, trying to discern exactly what his mistake had been. "Oh," said Huja, as realization dawned on him, "Nihan here is my apprentice."
The farmer apologized immediately. Nihan seemed only flattered. "I mean, t'way ye looked at'er when she firs' came," he said, "I just thought-"
The Imam raised a hand for silence. "Think nothing of it," he said, "And you can tell your wife I appreciate the pie. I'm sure it is delicious." The farmer gave a satisfied smile. "You're probably wondering why I asked you to come here," he went on.
The farmer shook his head. "T'sea's disappearin' and sumth'ns makin' t'ground shiver," he said, "So ye go an' fetch all ye ken. I dinna wonder about that."
Huja nodded, seeming to focus for a moment upon the man more intently. "You're wondering how I think you can help," he said.
The farmer nodded.
"I want to send a member of the Hand and Alchemist guilds back with you when you return home, so they can monitor the situation around your farmland and assist in any way they can. I'd like you to house them and cooperate with anything they ask of you."
"That be very kine," said the farmer.
There were shouts, and the door to the room exploded. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": Pirate attack! ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 22, 2006 13:56:50 GMT -5
Chapter Eleven: The Atomies Part One: A Final Parting
"Alright," Sadam said, facing the familiar feeling of an experiment gone wrong to the point of fatalities, "No need to panic. We need to get off this ledge. I can just fly over well enough by myself. You Hands have some magic that lets you jump really high, right?"
The second hole behind them had appeared quite unexpectedly. That left Salem, at least, trapped on the middle ledge, unable to get to safer ground. If one of those flares hit while he was still standing there. . .
Salem seemed not to be paying attention. He was staring down into the pit, his face hard and unreadable. "Well?" Sadam demanded.
Salem shook his head, not taking his eyes from the colors below him. "Any magic we have attempted to perform near this has only drawn the energies closer to us. The spell might make me airborne for a moment, but I would not reach the edge before I was consumed."
Sadam nodded. "Fair enough," he said, "I suppose I could travel a distance away and attempt to summon a floating disc. Maybe you could. . ."
"It would never hold me," Salem pointed out. He turned from looking into the hole to face the atomy. His expression was calm, composed. "I will need help to get out of here," he said, "I want you to leave me here, and go find the Imam. No one else is to know what we are doing down here, nor that we are even here at all."
"Leave you here?" Sadam gave the pit below and uncertain glance. Things that got hit by that stuff didn't just get destroyed, they ceased to exist! If he was to leave Salem here, if he were not to get back in time. . . He didn't really want to think about it.
"There is nothing to be gained by your staying," Salem said.
"I. . . suppose," Sadam nodded hesitantly. It was true enough. Nobody knew they were down there except Huja, and he only came down occasionally to coordinate with the guildmasters on the dispatch of agents to various settlements and territories. If Sadam just stayed here, there was likely no way anyone would come down to aid them, and given the circumstances, there wasn't a whole lot he could do by himself. . .
"Sadam!" the arcanus snapped, jerking the alchemist back to reality, "My very survival may depend upon how quickly you can locate Huja and inform him of this situation! There is no time for dalliance! This is a time for taking command, Philosopher!"
The little atomy shook himself. He turned about in the air, giving a quick, double nod to the Hand. "Of course," he said gravely, "I'll do my best."
"Then go," Salem said, "now."
The atomy darted away down the hall out of sight amidst flickering lights. As he went, Salem watched after him, feeling stoic. He feared he might never be seeing the alchemist again in this life. He was right.
If Cyllyl be willing, he thought after the atomy, then may we both meet again in Her Paradise.
Alone at last, Salem set to work. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": Friendly guides. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 22, 2006 13:57:45 GMT -5
Chapter Eleven: The Atomies Part Two: Asking for Directions
"You'll know where to find me."
The atomy cursed himself inwardly as he sped down the tunnel, light orb trailing close behind him. The Imam had directed those words at Salem. If that was true, Salem would have known exactly where to go to reach him. Why hadn't Sadam thought of that earlier? Why hadn't Salem thought of it? It was too late now, though. Taking the extra time to go back and ask would just add further risk to an already precarious situation. Besides, if Salem knew, maybe all the Hands would know how to contact their leader.
He shot around a corner into a better lit hallway. Ah, perfect! A youthful arcanus girl was just coming into sight along the tunnel, her tattoo plainly visible across her neck. He shot toward her.
"Where's the Imam?" he demanded. She came up short, glancing toward the source of the squeaky voice. "I need to see him," he explained, "It's very urgent!"
Either she did not know, or he was asking all the wrong questions. What did expect her to take him for? Surely not the Alchemist Guildmaster on a casual stroll around a location that was technically forbidden to him. He was obviously a non-Hand by his demeanor, and for him to even be here, let alone flying around and demanding the location of the Imam. . . well, it didn't really look good, did it?
A pair of long, sharp shamshirs appeared almost magically in the girl's hands, and one of them launched itself directly for the unsuspecting pixie. It was fortunate for him that she seemed to be a new recruit- A more experienced Hand would never have missed such a target. He turned around to feel the hiss of the blade go sliding on past him. This was going to be harder than he thought. He rounded a corner and heard alarm bells ringing up and down the hall.
Well, isn't this just perfect? he thought. He quickly ducked into another room. It was dark.
His eyes began adjusting just in time to see another, female arcanus face leering down at him. In his mind, he swore profusely, but in reality, he screamed and cowered, "Ohpleasedon'thurtmeI'mj usttryingtofindtheImamIhavetowarnhimabuotsomethingimportant!" His eyes were clenched shut, and he hesitated, waiting for the killing blow to land. It didn't. He opened his eyes.
"Sadam?" the arcanus asked. It was Nusrat, the guild's mentor.
He let out a sigh of relief. Thank Ishtar, he thought, but he didn't say that either, as it was likely to make the Hand reconsider her decision not to kill him yet.
"What's going on here?" came another voice, this one belonging to Naomi, the First Ward.
"It's Sadam," Nusrat said, "He says he has a message for the Imam, very urgent."
"I can take you to him," Naomi said, "How urgent is the message?"
"Very," said Sadam, "A matter of life and nonexistance."
"Well, he's in a meeting outside the guild hall," said Naomi, "So either I can knock you out and take you, or if your message is important enough, I can take you conscious, but if I do, there's a chance I might have to go ahead and kill you later."
It was a testament to Sadam's integrity or his foolishness that he chose the latter option. Time was of the essence, and he was not wasting it. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": Obedience ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 22, 2006 13:58:47 GMT -5
Chapter Eleven: The Atomies Part Three: Impatience
The path out of the guild was a simple one. Almost too simple, in fact, and Sadam found himself wondering how such an obvious exit (wherever it had been) could possibly be kept secret. It was likely that he would not have such an easy time locating the path on the way back in.
Naomi led them through a series of simple corridors, until it became very clear to Sadam that they were in the cathedral now, and not the guild hall at all, and he wondered how he had missed the transition. Hands in tight-fitting, otherwise nondescript attire lined every passageway. There was little decoration, save one room they passed through, where the floors and walls seemed to be woven out of black rose stems, and another, large room, with a great mosaic of an open hand holding a black rose laid out in the tile on the floor. The ceiling of that room showed a picture Sadam couldn't understand: a stairway with nine steps leading toward an open door to some kind of garden.
They finally came to rest at a plain, wooden door near the back of the cathedral. Two guards, one ettin and one jinn, stood stoically to either side. In the center of its face was an inscription, depicting a stiletto crossed with a rose.
"He's in there," Naomi said, indicating the door, "but he's in the middle of a meeting. You'll have to wait out here until he's finished."
"Wait out here?" Sadam repeated incredulously, "Wait!? Which part of 'life-and-death situation' did you not understand? He needs to be informed right away!"
He glared at the other atomy, who stared back blankly. The ground shook violently, and the two guards did their best to maintain their balance.
"If it's so important," Naomi said, "Then explain it to me."
"I'm not supposed to explain it to anyone but the Imam," Sadam insisted, wondering if he was costing a man's life by doing so.
"Then you can wait until he gets out," she replied.
They stared one another down for a long moment, before Naomi's unflinching gaze forced the Philosopher to look away. He stuck his tongue out at her sulkily. She shook her head and kept on watching him.
He muttered something rude and turned his back to her. She turned away from him as well, examining the ettin guard whose second head was gazing at them stupidly.
It was her mistake. No sooner had she turned her back than Sadam whipped out a spun glass ball from his pouch.
It's too important to wait, he thought.
"The elements are mind to command," he bellowed, "and I command them to strike!" --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": Total pacifism. No bloodshed. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 22, 2006 14:00:02 GMT -5
Chapter Eleven: The Atomies Part Four: Indignation
Naomi was on the rogue atomy in an instant, but it was too late to prevent his spell from firing. The beam of energy shot straight for the door, splintering it into a million tiny pieces.
Thin blade and dagger flashed through the air, and the alchemist dropped to the earth like a butterfly-winged stone. "How dare you?!" Naomi bellowed, descending after him and slashing away relentlessly at his plummeting form. Drizzling blood formed a trail in their wake. Sadam started to scream.
Naomi's initial strike had been with the dagger, hitting a major nerve in a location Sadam would probably prefer she didn't talk about. The pain of it was such that the alchemist lost track of everything he was doing, even flying, and was temporarily immobilized by the shock. The next slash was a follow-through with her sword, cutting above her target's eyes. Blood streamed down his face as he fell, blinding him, so that if he had still had any desire left to fight as he descended, he would have had a hard time in doing so.
The rest of her slashes were done mostly out of indignation. Let the fool suffer for ever thinking to cross me, she decided.
The end result was that when the smaller atomy finally struck the floor, he was still alive, but only barely, drenched in blood with gaping wounds. He was still breathing, but Naomi was standing right there to correct that.
Her dagger came down hard, plunging directly for his heart.
"Ack!"
Naomi's strike came less than an atomy's thumb span away from her victim's chest, before she felt her body being swept aside.
Sadam was dimly aware of a pair of large, strong hands, deftly bandaging his tiny limbs, drawing him back into consciousness. Who? What had just happened?
He heard a familiar voice speaking to him. "I apologize for her determination," it said, "and whenever you feel ready to speak again, I understand that you came to see me with a message."
Sadam could have died from relief, but he didn't. Not yet. He had a message to deliver first, then he would worry about the rest of it. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": Naomi gets fired. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 22, 2006 17:07:44 GMT -5
Chapter Eleven: The Atomies Part Five: Acceptance
"Naomi?" came the Imam's voice softly. Naomi stirred slightly, tearing her eyes from the light.
"Yes?" she said.
"I think it's about time we promoted you," he said, "Kneel, First Ward Naomi." Noami nodded, settling down to the ground in the tunnel and feeling unbelievably self-conscious as she did so. About time she was promoted, indeed. . . Salem was gone, and somebody had to take his place, but she couldn't help thinking that he might still be there if not for her distrust of the alchemist.
Sadam himself had lapsed into unconsciousness again, resting on the Imam's shoulder. Huja let him be. The little atomy had lost a lot of blood, and it would take him some time to recover from that. Naomi knelt and bowed before her leader respectfully.
"In the teachings of the Hand," Huja said, "It is said that 'the eighth degree teaches that there are two Principles, the nameless First Cause and the Second Cause. The latter is generated by a thought of the former, as the spoken word proceeds from the thought of a speaker. The Second Cause acts as intermediary between unknowable Reason and Man.' Explain what this means."
Naomi sat up. She was still kneeling, but she could see about herself now, look about for clues as she thought over the question. Reason would dictate to her the answer. She need only ponder and wait for Its true inspiration. That was not a concern. What concerned her was that when she gave the answer, she would be promoted to the eighth degree and appointed as Hand guildmaster. To answer would be to admit that Salem was truly gone from them forever.
She looked past the Imam, out into the wide open gap in the tunnel, swirling with light and uncertain energy. Sadam said there had once been a bridge across that gap, upon which Salem had stood. It was gone now, and so was her friend, the arcanus.
Goodbye, Salem, she thought to herself, it was an honor serving beneath you. May you rest well and long in Paradise.
She answered the question. Huja nodded.
"Arise, Guildmaster Naomi," he said, "and begin your duties." --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": Flash flood! ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 29, 2006 9:54:04 GMT -5
Chapter Twelve: The Rajians Part One: End of the World
Waves crashed forward, but it wasn't the same here. The water didn't belong this far out. Each surge of water crashed against the moistened ground, then retreated, each never reaching forward quite as far as the previous.
Ol' Jaf turned away in disgust. Why must this be happening? It didn't make any sense to him, nor to anyone. All the leaders seemed to be discussing everything among themselves, but it was plain to Jaf that they didn't know what was going on any better than he did. It was just too unreal. The oceans just didn't dry up like this. The whole world didn't just. . . change. . . like this.
Every morning, he still woke up with the expectation that it had all been a dream. Every morning he would lie awake in his small, basket apartment in Shara and tell himself how it hadn't been real, how the world wasn't falling to pieces, how the ground never shook and the horizon didn't glow at night, how he was just making his usual stop through the city, selling his goods, how the rest had been his imagination, how the bay was still filled with water and how his ship, his precious ship, was still floating peacefully among the waves, not stranded on the rocks and split wide open beneath its own weight, its precious cargo scattered and ruined upon the sand. . .
Then the earthquakes would come and tremble his bed and shake his dreams away, and he could deny what had come to him no longer. Always the same, always the cruel reminders of the hand fate had dealt to him. He had nothing left now. He had nothing to do or live for, just to fly out farther and farther each day to catch another glimpse of the vanishing sea. It wasn't a comforting sight.
Brightly colored wings beat the air in a tired cadence, driving him back on the wind. He would return to Shara now, then he would get some food, maybe a little more rest. There really was nothing else he could do. He would take care of himself, he would watch, and he would keep on waiting. Things would get better eventually.
They certainly couldn't get any worse, right?
Behind him, out over the sea, a distant sparkling of strange beings glittered across the sky. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": An Atomy Lord! ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Aug 30, 2006 19:26:45 GMT -5
Chapter Twelve: The Rajians Part Two: The End of a People
From far above this all, nestled among the clouds with the remainder of his people, Nebu Chad'Nezzar, known widely and affectionately as Nebu, the Atomy, watched on as the world decayed beneath him. Others had homes to lose, ways of life that would be forfeit. Nebu had none of these things. None of his people did. That made it twice as ironic then that they were somehow going to lose them anyway.
Before we explain, however, a few things must first be understood about Nebu. The first is that he was not a he at all; he was genderless. The second is that he was not an atomy.
Nebu thought of himself as a male because the mode of thought taken up by males of other races made marginally more sense to him than that employed by the females (though he found the female mode of thought fascinating anyway). He was called "the atomy" because he was so small, though he had the grit and the spirit to compensate for his size, and everyone knew it.
Nebu was a suula, and no ordinary suula at that. Standing at about three foot two inches tall, he was the miniscule leader of a mighty nation, a nation known the world across as the "People of Air", or alternatively, the "Air City." They were a nomadic group of peaceful suula, and they could be seen wandering the Rajian skies, following the storms, collecting new members and observing the physical races that dwelt beneath them. It was a steady, relaxing life. It was a life he had always cherished.
All about him now, as the group meandered to a halt, the flickering, pulsating bodies of his fellow suula lit the air with a multicolored cascade of shimmering light. The clouds shone with their radiance, and a viewer could see their sparkle stretched out across the dwindling sea. This were his people, and it was for them that he had come here.
He did not fully believe they were threatened, of course. Nothing could really interfere with the suula way. His people were numerous and depended upon little else for their survival. Still, it would be an interesting observation, and even the smallest chance that he could better his fellows. . . well, that was worth looking into, wasn't it?
The mass of them was as a spiderweb of lighting and fire against the clouds. It was an impressive sight, they knew. They could feel the emotions of awe and respect that radiated up to them from the city below.
It was a good feeling.
It had been too long since they had last visited Shara.
It would be even longer before they would see it again. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": Umm. . . ducks? ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Sept 1, 2006 20:27:27 GMT -5
Chapter Twelve: The Rajians Part Three: The End of a Nation
Nebu looked about himself, watching the flickering colors of his people. For tens of thousands of years, he had been among them, guiding them. They were a strong people, an invincible people. They had combed these skies together throughout the long history of Raji, going back as far as things were known to have been there. They had seen everything, even back to the coming of the Jotun and Seelie, the rise of Cyllyl, the establishment of the Alchemist Guild, and indeed, much of the civilization that now dotted the world. They had seen the freeing of the Jinn and even noted the mysterious appearance of the Anakim. They were the oldest of the races here, and they were not going anywhere.
Now people said otherwise. It was for that they had come here to Suthnas, if to do nothing but reassure them of the Suula immortality. Nebu watched as the messenger descended slowly down toward the waiting city. He would meet with the Imam if necessary. Young and inexperienced though the anakim may be, he was clever and kept his feelings tight beneath a careful guard, which was good for their flavor.
At the very least, his people would get a taste for an emotion they had felt but a few times before. It was an emotion that could only be experienced by a large number of people with nothing to do but sit and watch as the universe slowly collapsed all around them. It was a slow and silent panic, an urgent desperation to struggle against a foe that one cannot seem to locate. It was a unique feeling, and the suula could not afford to pass it by.
Nebu wasn't blind. He could see the world was changing. Never before had these things happened, not within the lifetime of any suula in his city. This was something unique, and as such, they did not fear it (for indeed, they could not), but rather, they looked forward to it. Here was a new experience for them, a new experience for everyone. They would savor it most willingly.
For now, however, they hovered patiently. Let the Hands have their say when they were ready for it. The Air City could wait until then. They were going to be around forever, after all, so why hurry? --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": The End of the Story ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Sept 5, 2006 21:43:56 GMT -5
Chapter Twelve: The Rajians Part Four: The End of a Lifestyle
The docks were by no means deserted. This might come as a surprise to some, as the ocean had actually receded and all the boats were know wrecked upon the bay's stony bottom. Why would anyone come to the docks after that? Aside from a few scattered taverns and the occasional inn for the stranded travelers, what was there left to draw them out here?
What people who asked this failed to realize was that with the water gone and the boats destroyed, the people of Shara, whether fishermen or traders, sailors or travelers, could not simply abandon the dock front that had been the source of their income and livelihood for so many years before. It was not that they felt some peculiar sense of loyalty to the dying place. The fact of the matter was that they didn't have anywhere else to go.
Ol' Jaf crossed the empty bay and sailed onto the crowded docks. It was still mid afternoon. As had become their habit, the inhabitants of Shara's waterfront district all gathered here in silence now, gazing out at the distant, waning sea. What happened in the future mattered little to them. Their lives were already over.
Jaf made no eye contact. He fluttered past them quickly, heading for the inn where he stayed.
The skies above glittered with a multitude of living lights, but regardless of their radiance, no one was looking at the suula.
On a whim, Jaf turned away before entering the inn and made a beeline for the cathedral at the center of town. He had nothing else to do, and nothing short of a miracle could ever change that. So help him, Old Jafar was going to pray for that miracle. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji...": An answered prayer. ---------------------
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