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Elderberry #20. Crystal Rod with Whipped Cream
Story : Desert Flowers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : a decade or so before the main story
Word Count : 802
This is a step forward and back at the same time. Takes place just after a duel, much like the one Narda fought - but a good ten years or more prior.
This is the continuation of my new story - 2nd installment - if you missed the 1st one catch it here I should have an index page for it soon.
The temple. The only bit of stone in a sea of canvas peaks. A mass of small bodies set its sights on its darkened entrance. Hair tucked in colored ribbons, shimmering robes freshly pressed, the throng shifted from foot to foot, and tiny necks craned to peer over one another. Pressed close and shuffling about each other, none said a word.
Behind them stood a cluster of young men, regarding the temple with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Devri waited among them, arms folded across her chest, taking in the scene through the dark lenses perched midway up her nose.
Herding two of her young charges back into line, Aylin shot her a smile so broad and thin it verged on a tearful eruption. “Shoo, shoo,” she hissed, shaking hands prodding the pair of girls into place. The elder slung an arm around the younger’s waist and tugged her along, their feet chrurning a cloud of sand up about their shining skirts. Aylin threw a hand to her head and ground her fingers against her scalp. “Narda. Chandra.” The two flicked her playful grins as the crowd shifted to absorb them.
Devri edged closer with as sympathetic a smile as she could muster. “I swear,” said Aylin through clenched teeth, her eyes on the pair as they continued their jostling of each other under the glares of their peers, “if it is to be either one of those two-”
“You will manage,” said Devri, a hand settling on the younger guardian’s shoulder.
Aylin let her hand fall with a sigh. Her gaze flicked to the temple and the two women flanking its shadowy maw. Each stood stiff, hands and jaws clenched, faces a shade warmer than death, eyes on her own feet. Aylin frowned, visibly swallowed. “I don’t think I’m ready.”
“You don’t have to be,” said Devri, and she gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Not yet.”
The temple doors ground open. The guardians stationed outside snapped to attention. With a pat to Aylin’s back, Devri slipped back to the ring of boys.
A lone figure emerged, ceremonial robes of shimmering gauze flowing like broad, lazy clouds in her wake, a golden pole in each hand, the crown of rings and gems at their tips catching and refracting the desert sun in an array of blinding colors. She took one weary, faltering step, and another, down the broad steps etched into the earth, to the square, without a pause or glance for the pair that awaited her. One heaved a sigh of relief, the other a mournful shudder.
Devri nudged the spectacles up the length of her nose and refolded her arms. The boys around her held their collective breath, the tension palpable as the woman approached the crowd.
The girls held their breath now as well, stone still, a great golden curtain of nervous anticipation. One staff propped against her shoulder, she lowered the other before her and made a slow, deliberate pass before them, a thoughtful calm on her dark-stained lips.
She drew to a halt before Narda, peering down her nose at the child for long moments, and Aylin tensed. Chandra ground her small fist in her friend’s robes, bobbing on her toes beside her.
The proffered staff began its descent, blue and red and green streaming from its crystal-studded head. It bowed low before the girl, who reached out, mouth open, eyes wide, to touch it. Narda set those eyes upon the girl, questioning, and she gave a nod.
One small trembling hand took hold of the gleaming shaft and her mouth opened even wider. A second hand shot out, not from Narda, but from beside her. A smaller, paler hand, straining and stretching, it grabbed for the staff, latched on below the first.
“No!” Devri lunged forward, through the gaping, gasping crowd of girls, Aylin at her side, echoing her cry. The sea of gold spread wide about them, tiny figures tumbling against one another, reeling in shock.
The woman wrenched the staff from both their hands, snapped it back to her breast. Her mouth fell open, dark lips chewing the air. Devri and Aylin each grabbed a child by the shoulder and hauled them back a step,
“It’s too late,” said the woman.
The smaller child in her grasp, Aylin stared at the woman. “What do you mean, too late?”
She fingered the staff and chewed her lip. “I mean they’ve both… You have two…”
“Two?” said Devri, fingers digging into Narda’s small arms.
“I’m terribly sorry.” She held out the staff, offering it first to Aylin and then, when she made no move to take it, to Devri. “I never meant…”
Aylin looked from the staff to the girls to Devri and cracked a timid smile. “Looks like you’re coming out of retirement.”
Story : Desert Flowers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : a decade or so before the main story
Word Count : 802
This is a step forward and back at the same time. Takes place just after a duel, much like the one Narda fought - but a good ten years or more prior.
This is the continuation of my new story - 2nd installment - if you missed the 1st one catch it here I should have an index page for it soon.
The temple. The only bit of stone in a sea of canvas peaks. A mass of small bodies set its sights on its darkened entrance. Hair tucked in colored ribbons, shimmering robes freshly pressed, the throng shifted from foot to foot, and tiny necks craned to peer over one another. Pressed close and shuffling about each other, none said a word.
Behind them stood a cluster of young men, regarding the temple with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Devri waited among them, arms folded across her chest, taking in the scene through the dark lenses perched midway up her nose.
Herding two of her young charges back into line, Aylin shot her a smile so broad and thin it verged on a tearful eruption. “Shoo, shoo,” she hissed, shaking hands prodding the pair of girls into place. The elder slung an arm around the younger’s waist and tugged her along, their feet chrurning a cloud of sand up about their shining skirts. Aylin threw a hand to her head and ground her fingers against her scalp. “Narda. Chandra.” The two flicked her playful grins as the crowd shifted to absorb them.
Devri edged closer with as sympathetic a smile as she could muster. “I swear,” said Aylin through clenched teeth, her eyes on the pair as they continued their jostling of each other under the glares of their peers, “if it is to be either one of those two-”
“You will manage,” said Devri, a hand settling on the younger guardian’s shoulder.
Aylin let her hand fall with a sigh. Her gaze flicked to the temple and the two women flanking its shadowy maw. Each stood stiff, hands and jaws clenched, faces a shade warmer than death, eyes on her own feet. Aylin frowned, visibly swallowed. “I don’t think I’m ready.”
“You don’t have to be,” said Devri, and she gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Not yet.”
The temple doors ground open. The guardians stationed outside snapped to attention. With a pat to Aylin’s back, Devri slipped back to the ring of boys.
A lone figure emerged, ceremonial robes of shimmering gauze flowing like broad, lazy clouds in her wake, a golden pole in each hand, the crown of rings and gems at their tips catching and refracting the desert sun in an array of blinding colors. She took one weary, faltering step, and another, down the broad steps etched into the earth, to the square, without a pause or glance for the pair that awaited her. One heaved a sigh of relief, the other a mournful shudder.
Devri nudged the spectacles up the length of her nose and refolded her arms. The boys around her held their collective breath, the tension palpable as the woman approached the crowd.
The girls held their breath now as well, stone still, a great golden curtain of nervous anticipation. One staff propped against her shoulder, she lowered the other before her and made a slow, deliberate pass before them, a thoughtful calm on her dark-stained lips.
She drew to a halt before Narda, peering down her nose at the child for long moments, and Aylin tensed. Chandra ground her small fist in her friend’s robes, bobbing on her toes beside her.
The proffered staff began its descent, blue and red and green streaming from its crystal-studded head. It bowed low before the girl, who reached out, mouth open, eyes wide, to touch it. Narda set those eyes upon the girl, questioning, and she gave a nod.
One small trembling hand took hold of the gleaming shaft and her mouth opened even wider. A second hand shot out, not from Narda, but from beside her. A smaller, paler hand, straining and stretching, it grabbed for the staff, latched on below the first.
“No!” Devri lunged forward, through the gaping, gasping crowd of girls, Aylin at her side, echoing her cry. The sea of gold spread wide about them, tiny figures tumbling against one another, reeling in shock.
The woman wrenched the staff from both their hands, snapped it back to her breast. Her mouth fell open, dark lips chewing the air. Devri and Aylin each grabbed a child by the shoulder and hauled them back a step,
“It’s too late,” said the woman.
The smaller child in her grasp, Aylin stared at the woman. “What do you mean, too late?”
She fingered the staff and chewed her lip. “I mean they’ve both… You have two…”
“Two?” said Devri, fingers digging into Narda’s small arms.
“I’m terribly sorry.” She held out the staff, offering it first to Aylin and then, when she made no move to take it, to Devri. “I never meant…”
Aylin looked from the staff to the girls to Devri and cracked a timid smile. “Looks like you’re coming out of retirement.”