From: Wesley Quadros (wquadros@paralynx.com)
Date: Wed 02 Feb 2000 - 03:18:28 EET
These being the tales of the Journey of Cilor Negial into the Redlands
I heard the stirring in the camp and stood up quicklyand then sat down
quicker swiping ineffectually at the spreading ink stain on my
breaches. As I swabbed at the black mess I peered intently at the
returning patrol.
Rascaliun, called the Iron Talon had led this foray into the Redlands
when he heard about a band of Pentan raiders. I remember his look of
disdain as I rode up on my charger and asked to accompany him; what
followed was two days of hard riding with me bumping along uncomfortably
on my horse trying to keep up with the clutch of augners and their
brightly coloured riders. They would have looked funny with all of
those feathers were it not for the deadly serious way they looked at the
world around them and the brutally efficient look to their weapons.
Rascaliun paused from grooming his augner he called it Rend to watch
the approaching rider. The sergeants feathers swayed as the augner
strode down the hill with its unique bobbing gait, very different from a
horses, but then the augner was no horse. Augners were tall birds,
their backs were as high off the ground as a horses and their heads
reached as far again off of the ground. They could carry a small man
and his equipment faster than a horse could but did not quite have the
same endurance. They were brightly coloured with red, blue and even
some emerald green feathers. Their claws were murderous and their beaks
worse the cursed animals seemed to take positive delight in plucking
eyes out.
The sergeant, the Rinliddi called them Second Talons, leaped to the
ground before Rascaliun in a flurry of blue feathers. Besides the
three-foot technicolour monstrosities swaying from the crest of his
helm, he had a series of hues sewn to his shirt, the shiny ones that
seemed to drip with colour as he moved. He threw a jaunty salute at
Rascaliun and snapped off a contact report in the Rinliddi tongue. I
racked my mind to translate as Rascaliun strode away shouting orders;
the Second Talon had seen the horse nomads and marked where they had
made camp for the night. The Iron Talon was rousing his clutch and
making ready to strike the Pentans that night.
The clutch rode out an hour later. The riders had sharpened their
spears, the augners their talons and all had preened their feathers.
They made a magnificent sight riding over the hill with our glorious
Yelm settling into the underworld, each wore a feathered cloak
reflecting their tastes and family. The only thing that was the same on
the eight riders were the three blood-red feathers that jutted from the
front of their helmet crests, they all belonged to the Red-Eye-Bright
nest; a more fervent band of the Goddess warriors I challenge you to
find.
I was glad that this expedition was nearing its conclusion as I was
quite tired of the constant preening and strutting that seems to
characterise the Rinliddi nobleman. And the way they treated my mount
was criminal, Bolarillo is a pure-breed Jillaro stallion! And the
terrible squawking and scampering about when they pray was truly
un-nerving.
Rascaliun arrayed his clutch in a line just within the trees overlooking
the dell where the nomads had made their camp. The scouts had reported
a score of riders in the camp and that was now born out. Two of the
demons rode quietly around opposite sides of the camps perimeter
keeping a keen watch. I could see little in the starlight but the
avilry were peering about themselves with the eyes of the eagle and
claimed to be able to see as well as in daylight.
Rascaliun held his hand before him and cried out. I was shocked to hear
that scree come from a mans throat. Shortly a dully-glowing form
dropped from the sky and lit on his shoulder. A vast eagle it was,
glowing with an inner light. Rascaliun later told me how he had
befriended one of Vrimaks golden children. The majestic bird cooed in
Rascaliuns ear and he chirped back. With a nod of his head the great
bird leapt moonward and swooped from the trees. The riders gripped
their spears and darts and readied for the charge.
The nearer nomad did not see what happened. The eagle soared past him
and tore his throat with one mighty sweep of its talons. Bursting into
his full blazing glory the eagle screamed in delight as it hurled itself
at the second picket. The sudden burst of light startled the man and he
had just flung up a hand to shield his eyes when the burning raptor
struck him and silenced him for good.
The clutch started from the trees as soon as the eagle screamed and
their cries joined the birds as they flung themselves at the camp. I
found it hard not to laugh at the image they made as they bobbed
improbably down the hill on the backs of their augners with feathered
panoplies swaying in the night, only the wildly distorted faces and
blood-thirsty caws sobered my mood. Their cries were indistinguishable
from those of the eagle still ripping at the second rider.
The clutch swooped into the camp and began the symphony known across
this world and the next, the rise and fall of ruddy swords, the hissing
flights of hard-thrown darts, the murderous cawing of the attackers and
the terrified screams of the surprised. The riders swarmed the camp,
their augners tore Pentans with their talons and ripped their faces with
their beaks. 5, 7, 11, 13 were down before any fought back; their
champion leapt screaming atop a bird and bore the rider and his mount to
the ground stabbing madly with his dagger. A dripping spear reached out
and stilled the barbarian forever.
When the symphony ended, two of Rascaliuns men lay broken on the ground
and 19 Pentans would never harry the Empire again. Rascaliun had the
horse-demons bodies impaled, tied his own fallen to their saddles,
chirped to Rend and led his clutch back to their nest. When I asked
about the horses he was bring back he told me that the best one would be
given to the Emperor, the rest would be sacrificed to Veng and his
father Vrimak.
As I followed them back I was struck at how the beauty of their garb was
no longer, the brightly coloured cloaks and gaily swaying headdresses
were a warning to the world. The Empire is friendly and peaceful, but
still has talons of iron.
- --
- -
'Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure'
wquadros@paralynx.com
www.bvcompuworks.com/wesley
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