Éric

 :fleuron:‪

Konrad had to cover his brown eyes as he watched the wall collapse.
On his left was the Tower, the one-of-a-kind creation under which the Dark Lord, Garl, swore an oath. The stone from the center fell toward the right with a soft thunk. The walls surrounding the Tower were broken apart by a flash of light.

Konrad continued to the center of the twelve-tiled square he drew onto the floor to make his escape.

…

Two or three days later, he would meet another of his patrons, the mysterious Surt, who’d come across him first. They talked about the recent events leading up to the Dark Lord having fallen, and the dark rumors that were rampant.

‪Surt seemed to be one of those who didn’t believe the news. This one had only heard the official stories, but was still somewhat interested. He said, “My apologies for not making the trip to the capital earlier… it was not easy to travel in such close proximity to it.” Surt explained why he came to this place, even though he had no clue on his own.

“So what brought you here?” Konrad asked the giant.

“Surt has something you’ll want to know about the Dark Lord’s sister Nesingwarys.” Surt explained.

“What about her?” asked Konrad.

“She’s a magical girl. That sort of thing. She goes to school with a little girl with some special abilities. I’ve taken a keen interest.” His eyes narrowed. “Her abilities are her own. You know, something with the potential to kill the whole school. She’ll keep you safe. You’ll become her protector and help her survive the Dark Lord. Maybe one or two times. It’s her calling.”

“N-no-it’s not my calling!” Konrad shouted. “My calling is to protect you!”

“Surt is well versed in her abilities, and she has her own reasons not to go down the Dark Lord’s path. She has no interest in the Dark Lord, or anything related to him.”
Konrad replied with a tone of bitterness. “I will help her by keeping my own thoughts hidden, and not talking about it outside of the school.” Konrad walked away to go back and forth between Surt and Soren. Surt continued to watch him with curiosity.

Soren was looking around worried, confused, bewildered.

“And what do you make of this scuba diving cat, Albie?”
“It was diving for pearls I guess… I hope! Had enough of all those tourists & diving rescues, the Doline used to be much quieter, the last thing we need now is another construction work for a high-rise 5 star hotel!”

Fabio, Maeve’s pekingese, didn’t seem startled when Granola popped into the squishy giraffe toy. It wasn’t the first time it’d seen ghostly apparitions around Maeve. Quite the contrary in fact, Fabio explained to the squishy giraffe after spitting it out on the kitchen floor, where Maeve was finishing her cleaning duties.

She couldn’t help but pick up the toy and give it a good clean. Most of the colors had already faded, but she couldn’t part with it. It was the favourite toy of her first dog, and it was bringing up many memories.

“Thanks for the bath, darling” she squished the toy making it talk.

She looked at the dog “it’s time for your walk, isn’t it? Let me change, and we’ll go to the store, I think we’re short of butter for the cookies.”

“Funny how time goes or seem to not exist at all, when you are popping in and out” mused Granola.
It felt a few seconds since she’d left the sheen of Ferrore wrappings, but with her mind racing in all sorts of places, she’d somehow would appear in another tranche of life months apart from the last sequence she was in.
Truth be told, she had almost forgotten about the past circumstances, or how the story was unfolding, like waking up from a dream, and barely remembering the threads of the night’s activity all the while knowing you were totally absorbed by them a few blips of consciousness ago.
If she’d learnt something, that was to go with the flow, and start from where she was. Clues would light the way…

Since they’d moved him (promoted, they said) to the new store in the posh suburbs, Jerk’s job had taken a turn for the worse. One thing was clear, they put him in charge because they had clearly no idea who to put there.
He’d liked enough that the thing basically was running itself, and he didn’t have much pressure to perform for now. But honestly, these parts of the city were much less exotic to say the least. More drones consumers, bored mums, noisy kids, all day long…

With the new schedules and the commute, it wasn’t as easy to have a social life; not that he cared too much, but he’d started to bond a bit with the funny neighbors some time ago. With the return of summer, he was thinking of having a rooftop party at their appartment’s building, but for some mysterious reason, time was passing without having even set a day for the event.

“Less planning, more doing”, something said in his ear, or so he thought.

“Couldn’t agree more” he said, taking his bag discreetly as he made an early exit for the day.

Everyone was back, safe and sound from that ghastly trip in space and time.
Rukshan hadn’t felt the exhaustion until now. It all came down upon him rather suddenly, leaving behind its trail a deafening silence.

For the longest time he’s been carried by a sense of duty, to protect the others that’d been guiding his every steps, acting through him without doubt or concern. But in the new quiet place they were for that instant, there was no direction.

Riddles still abounded, and he knew too well their appeal. Knowledge and riddles seemed to go hand in hand in a devilish dance. Lila or Masti of the divine… Or just fool’s errand, enticed by the prospect of some revelation or illumination from beyond.

There had been no revelation. The blue beams that had attracted them seemed to have come with more questions than answers. Maybe they were only baits for the naive travellers…
Even the small crystals he’d collected from the trip, glowing faintly, apparently alive with some energy felt as though they weren’t his own riddle to solve. He left the pouch on the desk with a word for Fox, along with the other small gifts he’d left for the others: some powdered colors, a rare vial of whale’s di-henna, a small all-seeing glass orb, and a magical shawl.

It was time for him to pack. He didn’t like it much, but his only calling at the moment was that of coming home. Back to the land of the Faes. The Blood Moon Eclipse was upon them, and there would be a gathering of the Sages in the forest to honor the alliances of Old. Surely their little bending of time and space wouldn’t have gone unnoticed at such auspicious moment. Better to anticipate their questions than being marked as an heretic.

And he wasn’t all too sure the Shadow has been vanquished. Its thirst for the power of the Shards was strong, beyond space and time. If it were to reappear again, the Faes skills would be necessary to help protect the other Shards holders.

“I’ll see you again my friends” he said, as he entered the center of the nine-tiled square he’s drawn onto the ground, and vanished with it.

Godfrey laughed good naturedly…

“Of course, your story kept changing like a rainbow after a tornado. We really got to focus to grasp it entirely, us poor humans.”

As he stood by the window, looking at the piglets he seemed to be the only one capable of discerning, entered with a spring Paul Anna, the fashion journalist who had booked an appointment for a groundbreaking Liz’ interview.

Finnley shrugged loudly toward the door she closed, her throat dry from the black soot of her latest cleaning adventure.

The late arrived journalist of stylish and powerful people looked greedily at the room, not impressed in the slightest, wondering what sort of question she would ask that could be easily twisted into a scandalous piece of rumour mill fodder.

All of them were lined up like an army of tin soldiers on the manicured turf in front of the mansion. Some more at ease than others, but all feeling the looming of an impending return.

Someone broke the silence. “Boss is late, no?”

A sigh, a pair of rolling eyes. Nothing more needed to be said.

“It’s quiet here, don’t you think?” Godfrey was enjoying a moment, gazing through the Victorian windows of the silent mansion at the piglets running outside chased by Roberto.
“Not in small parts thanks to Elizabeth Madam being abroad for a visit to her Uncle Bob.” Finley raised her nose off her wool balls, as she was indulging in a little knitting break from the cleaning duties by the fire.
“God knows what it will bring though. I have an idea, she might come all shaken from so much family time.”
“Certainly, no one wants to see her shaken though, we all remember too well the last… episode.” Finnley sighed.

The so-called Police quickly left when they noticed there wasn’t much on the travellers, and that they didn’t look threatening.

If you’re looking for a place to stay the tallest one said you should go to the Hoping Spice Hospice, it’s not far away from the main street, just three blocks north of here. He looked at the sky, where the waxing gibbous moon was rising.

I wouldn’t stray too much outside if I were you. The desert black jackals are restless this time of year. He looked at Fox who was fidgeting suspiciously. The lack of sleep and being back in human form when they were called by the Police made him nervous.

Then, we’ll be on our way. Peace be upon you, Constable. Rukshan said, pushing forward.

The Hospice was an unassuming building, like all the other mud brick houses, except it probably had been lime washed in the past, and patches of the external wall had whitish spots shining under the moon sky.

The veiled nurse in charge of the night service was sternly quiet, and guided them to a common room. Almost all the beds were full, and the patients seemed to have a fitful sleep.

“What are those?” Olliver said before Rukshan could shush him. He was pointing at the oil lamps regularly spread across the room, which were shining with a dancing faint blue light.

“Spirits…” whispered Fox gloomily “Captured spirits…”

It was still raining clumps of wet sand when Rukshan, Olliver, Fox and Twee arrived at the oasis.
The light had dimmed and there was a feeling of hope mixed with dread in the vicinity. Only a mud brick wall no higher than a man’s waist was surrounding the village; and despite the infelicitous weather, standing here were a pair of sentinels so covered in sand clumps that they almost looked like a pair of stone wyverns guarding the entrance.

“Sسلام Salum’ friends. We are simple merchants, passing through, please allow us some shelter for the night” explained Rukshan using what he could remember of his rusty Nomads’ old tongue.

After a long silent glance at his strange companions, they shrugged and nodded him that he could go through.

Rukshan signaled to the others to follow him. The central paved road was leading the the market place, which would constitute, with the masjid, the centre of the city, and the most likely place to find answers on their quest.

Everyone seemed to have retreated to their places, in caves or the homes built on top of the caves from excavated materials. It was rather quiet except from the occasional thump noise made by the rain.

They were about to enter an alley when they heard someone loudly call them.
“Stop right here, Plastic Ban Police! – show us your bags and IDs.”