TALES OF TALYS
(align:"=><=")[PROLOGUE]
Hunger, dull and deep and aching, wrenches you from a stupor.
Someone watches you. Somewhere. In the near-darkness no one is visible, but your skin prickles. Through your aged body courses a shiver, seizing your muscles.
Head burns, eyes swim, bones scream from your supine position on harsh ground. A campfire’s aroma, sharp and smoky sweet, infiltrates your nose.
//[[Sit up and take in your surroundings.]]//Joints creak upon dragging yourself from the thin bedroll into a sitting position to get your bearings. Night air bites the face, a nightbird’s call pierces the dark. Another scent: leather mixed with sweat and charred meat.
Hush now; try to recall your doings before this place…Yes, that is it: walking the track east toward the sea, and suddenly a rustling behind. Pain, back of the head. Panic, frustration at being taken by surprise –
Rapid glances about reveal a spit of meat over the fire, a bedroll, a traveler’s sack and a large tome protruding from it. None are your belongings.
You see him then, as your eyes come into focus: a cloaked figure well within the shadows on the other side of the fire.
Low but charged with energy is the voice that sounds in the night, as though on the brink of combustion or turning to ice. “Ah, I wondered how long it would take an Alt of your years to wake.”
[[1. “Who are you? Where am I?”]]
//[[2. Say nothing.|Say nothing 1]]//The stranger’s way of speaking is a river, rhythm pensive and offbeat, stretching each word to its utter length and flowing from sentence to sentence as though speaking a single phrase. “Who I am is a question far too complicated to answer. As for your location, you are at a campfire in the wilderness. No point knowing how close to which kraal.”
Rising, he approaches. As into the firelight he shifts, you see now his visage, but his heritage you cannot place. Tarrag? Too large – but if he were of the Altmeg, he would be ridiculed for his finer features and curly chestnut hair cropped close to his scalp. Over a woll tunic and breeches he sports a leather-and-furs ensemble. A strange mix, the same as that of a Draknklaaner.
As he draws nearer, you gauge the distance to the edge of camp but abandon the idea. He is half or more your age, stronger, faster…and he would have bound you if he had thought you would run.
But of course, he knew you would not.
Halting before you, he offers a cut of freshly cooked meat, charred to a delectable crisp that makes your mouth water. Hunger again stabs you. Your last meal was days ago, but you swallow drily and eye it, unsure.
//[[1. Take the food.]]//
//[[2. Refuse.]]//The stranger’s way of speaking is a river, rhythm pensive and offbeat, stretching each word to its utter length and flowing from sentence to sentence as though speaking a single phrase. “A quiet one. Clever, perhaps, to guard one’s secrets.”
Rising, he approaches. As into the firelight he shifts, you see now his visage, but his heritage you cannot place. Tarrag? Too large – but if he were of the Altmeg, he would be ridiculed for his finer features and curly chestnut hair cropped close to his scalp. Over a woll tunic and breeches he sports a leather-and-furs ensemble. A strange mix, the same as that of a Draknklaaner.
As he draws nearer, you gauge the distance to the edge of camp but abandon the idea. He is half or more your age, stronger, faster…and he would have bound you if he had thought you would run.
But of course, he knew you would not.
Halting before you, he offers a cut of freshly cooked meat, charred to a delectable crisp that makes your mouth water. Hunger again stabs you. Your last meal was days ago, but you swallow drily and eye it, unsure.
//[[1. Take the food.]]//
//[[2. Refuse.]]//Though you cannot identify the meat, you accept the cut, its juices seeping between your fingers. The aroma overwhelms. Hunger invades every thought till there is only this meat, right here, right now. Who cares what it is, where it came from, who offers it? Unable to resist, you shove it in your mouth, gulping, inhaling, coughing.
Before you, the stranger squats and inspects your face. Over you wafts his thick leather odor. “Do you ever think about the gods – or better yet, the fate of the world, the winds that blow? Or the souls who carry such a world, they whose breath drives the winds and the tides, who forge the paths of the mountains? One would think they wear the faces of heroes, but they do not. Not always. Often, those with faces of sheep wear the skins of wolves.”
Waxing philosophical on a night unsuitable for pondering the gods…your head throbs. If you want to be gone from this place, best strike to the point or simply not encourage him.
[[1. “What do you want?”|What do you want food]]
//[[2. Say nothing.|Say nothing food]]//“Suit yourself.” Before you, the stranger squats and inspects your face. Over you wafts his thick leather odor. “Do you ever think about the gods – or better yet, the fate of the world, the winds that blow? Or the souls who carry such a world, they whose breath drives the winds and the tides, who forge the paths of the mountains? One would think they wear the faces of heroes, but they do not. Not always. Often, those with faces of sheep wear the skins of wolves.”
Waxing philosophical on a night unsuitable for pondering the gods…your head throbs. If you want to be gone from this place, best strike to the point or simply not encourage him.
[[1. “What do you want?”]]
//[[2. Say nothing.|Say nothing 2]]//“Straight to the point, then. A seeker of truth. My father would be nearly as impressed as I am.”
//Father//. A half-breed bastard of the archon, perhaps? But what interest would a son of the Tarrag diarchy have with an old Altmeg with no //stridr//, no mates, no status?
Still near, the stranger’s face remains passive, but his body leans slightly forward. “Over my long life, I have wanted one thing. That is the thing you have.”
[[“Long life? You are hardly half so old as I, //jile//.”|“Long life? You are hardly half so old as I, jile.”]]With a surprised huff, he raises his eyebrows. “Such resolve to remain silent. I approve. My father would be nearly as impressed as I am.”
//Father//. A half-breed bastard of the archon, perhaps? But what interest would a son of the Tarrag diarchy have with an old Altmeg with no //stridr//, no mates, no status?
Still near, the stranger’s face remains passive, but his body leans slightly forward. “Over my long life, I have wanted one thing. That is the thing you have.”
[[“Long life? You are hardly half so old as I, //jile//.”|“Long life? You are hardly half so old as I, jile.”]]He simply laughs quietly to himself as though enjoying a personal joke.
[[“Well, young one who thinks he is old, tell me. What do I have?”]]“Truth.”
Silence then, waiting for him to continue. He does not.
[[“Truth about…?”]]“All. Everything. It ties together, see, this truth and that truth, one secret to the next, as is the way with waves and ripples of the world’s fates. I have traveled long and far for this truth, and now they with the faces of sheep and the skins of wolves pursue me, knowing what I seek. And here we are. Faced with truth and secret.”
[[1. “I care not what you seek. Release me.”]]
[[2. “Why take me hostage, if I am not your enemy?”]]“I have not bound you. If I had wanted to hurt you, to take your life, I could already have done so – and easily. But to our point. You no longer have a //maateg// to carry you, your companions are long dead, and you are alone at the end of your life, same as I.”
Your //maateg//. Weighty and sour is the ache that returns, unbidden, to your gut – an ache familiar all these long years. The //stridr// whose journey through life was bound with yours, with whom was shared all…gone. So long has it been now…where is the memory of your //stridr//-brother’s face, conformation, even breed? It is clouded with a deep fog of pain.
Speaks still the stranger: “There is one last good thing you can do for this world before you leave it, old one, and that is to give it truth.”
The truth. Though it is unclear how he came by your identity, you begin to realize what he seeks: all you saw, all you remember from so many years ago. Somehow, it is important to him.
[[1. “The past is not important. Every Altmeg knows that there is only the present.”]]
[[2. “Why would I tell you my secrets? Why do you need them?”|“Why would I tell you my secrets? Why do you need them?”]]
[[3. “If I tell you the story of my youth, will you let me go?”|“If I tell you the story of my youth, will you let me go?”]]“Hostage. That overused, misunderstood word.” A chuckle, a tilt of the head. “I have not bound you. If I had wanted to hurt you, to take your life, I could already have done so – and easily. But to our point. You no longer have a //maateg// to carry you, your companions are long dead, and you are alone at the end of your life, same as I.”
Your //maateg//. Weighty and sour is the ache that returns, unbidden, to your gut – an ache familiar all these long years. The //stridr// whose journey through life was bound with yours, with whom was shared all…gone. So long has it been now…where is the memory of your //stridr//-brother’s face, conformation, even breed? It is clouded with a deep fog of pain.
Speaks still the stranger: “There is one last good thing you can do for this world before you leave it, old one, and that is to give it truth.”
The truth. Though it is unclear how he came by your identity, you begin to realize what he seeks: all you saw, all you remember from so many years ago. Somehow, it is important to him.
[[1. “The past is not important. Every Altmeg knows that there is only the present.”]]
[[2. “Why would I tell you my secrets? Why do you need them?”|“Why would I tell you my secrets? Why do you need them?”]]
[[3. “If I tell you the story of my youth, will you let me go?”|“If I tell you the story of my youth, will you let me go?”]]“Ah, but it is. Altmeg do not even speak in the past tense, yes, but they remember – and one cannot remember without the past. You say that our people care only for the here and now…what is that phrase – ”
[[“//Dæn kin ken den rog kuun.// ‘Those he knows in the here and now’ – it signifies the importance of a present we can change over a past we cannot.”|“Dæn kin ken den rog kuun. ‘Those he knows in the here and now’ – it signifies the importance of a present we can change over a past we cannot.”]]Vanishes the distance between you, his face a breath from yours, dull hazel eyes wide with fervor. “We do not have time for this!” he hisses. Pulls away sharply, cloak hood dropping. Snaps his hood over his curls again. Goes slack, body simply hanging from his bones. “So. Many. Questions. So many delays. It will be another lifetime to find it, but by then it will be gone.”
For a time he looks at the sky, lost in the stars or somewhere far away, anguish painting half his face. Then he turns to regard you again. In his expression is restraint conflicting with the eager light in his eyes, greedy to take what he cannot, ravenous as flame licking stones, unable to consume them.
“No , you would not tell me your secrets – but neither would you stay silent. It is a quandary of sorts. If you do, the world will be swallowed. If you do not, truth will forsake all, plunging this world into darkness.” The stranger surprises you with an Altung phrase you know well. “//Tal uppflytta, sanning kraafen spræken//. ‘To move forward, truth must be spoken.’ All Alts know this, for silence is the way to destruction, they say, and secrets are for the living, not the dead. You will tell me because we have no time left, or you will see the futility in it and keep your silence.”
[[1. “Speak plainly, //jile//. I do not understand your riddles and wanderings.”|speak plainly no food]]
[[2. “Destruction, darkness…what reason do I have to trust that you speak the truth of these things?”]]
//[[3. Stay silent, pondering his words but guarding yours.]]//“As I have said, you are unbound. Yet even should you walk away without giving what I seek, you are not free, same as I. The wolves of sheep faces will come for you as well, being someone who knows what you know.”
For a time he looks at the sky, lost in the stars or somewhere far away, anguish painting half his face. Then he turns to regard you again. In his expression is restraint conflicting with the eager light in his eyes, greedy to take what he cannot, ravenous as flame licking stones, unable to consume them.
“No, you would not tell me your secrets – but neither would you stay silent. It is a quandary of sorts. If you do, the world will be swallowed. If you do not, truth will forsake all, plunging this world into darkness.” The stranger surprises you with an Altung phrase you know well. “//Tal uppflytta, sanning kraafen spræken//. ‘To move forward, truth must be spoken.’ All Alts know this, for silence is the way to destruction, they say, and secrets are for the living, not the dead. You will tell me because we have no time left, or you will see the futility in it and keep your silence.”
[[1. “Speak plainly, //jile//. I do not understand your riddles and wanderings.”|speak plainly no food]]
[[2. “Destruction, darkness…what reason do I have to trust that you speak the truth of these things?”]]
//[[3. Stay silent, pondering his words but guarding yours.]]//“And that is where you and the rest of the Altmeg are wrong. The past is everything. I think you know this, and I think you think about the past more than you would admit. And so much of a past indeed for you to think on.”
[[1. “Why would I tell you my secrets? Why do you need them?”|“Why would I tell you my secrets? Why do you need them?”]]
[[2. “If I tell you the story of my youth, will you let me go?”|“If I tell you the story of my youth, will you let me go?”]]“None. Only that not long from now, those who pursue me will find me. And you. You asked, did you not? I gave answer.” He digs in the travel sack and pulls out the large tome. “So, old one. What will it be? Which do you fear more: secrets and eternal darkness, or truth and the destruction of all?”
[[1. “I will tell you the story you seek.”]]
[[2. “My secrets are my own.”]]“More silence. You and your secrets, nearly as furtive as I.” He digs in the travel sack and pulls out the large tome. “Perhaps you shall tell all nonetheless. So, old one. What will it be? Which do you fear more: secrets and eternal darkness, or truth and the destruction of all?”
[[1. “I will tell you the story you seek.”]]
[[2. “My secrets are my own.”]]Quill and ink the stranger retrieves and beside you settles. “Then I shall write it to them, that they may understand.”
[[“Who—”]]“Very well. Does anyone still live who knows what you know?”
[[“No.”]]“Everyone. Now begin. And may this knowledge survive what is to come.”
From your mouth into the crackling of the campfire stream the first phrases, consumed with a hunger as aching and desperate as wolves that hunt the last sheep. Over the stranger’s shoulder, you see your words bleeding black into the page:
//It begins in the year of the Einhorn in your youth, when you are first bonded to your //maateg//, unmarked by the world and on the cusp of discovering your path in life…//
[[>>|to be continued]]“Then I await my fate, as do you. As does the world. Again.” In both hands takes he the rough tome, rises, moves to the fire, and drops it in.
Flames lick the oiled leather and thick pages, just as hungry as your gut that screams for food – as hungry as the stranger for what you will not give him, and as hungry as wolves that hunt the sheep. It is a hunger you remember from long ago, when you were first bonded to your //maateg//, unmarked by the world and on the cusp of discovering your path in life…
[[>>|to be continued]]With a surprised huff, he raises his eyebrows. “Such resolve to remain silent. I approve. My father would be nearly as impressed as I am.”
//Father//. A half-breed bastard of the archon, perhaps? But what interest would a son of the Tarrag diarchy have with an old Altmeg with no //stridr//, no mates, no status?
Still near, the stranger’s face remains passive, but his body leans slightly forward. “Over my long life, I have wanted one thing. That is the thing you have.”
[[“Long life? You are hardly half so old as I, //jile.//”|Long life food]]“Straight to the point, then. A seeker of truth. My father would be nearly as impressed as I am.”
//Father//. A half-breed bastard of the archon, perhaps? But what interest would a son of the Tarrag diarchy have with an old Altmeg with no //stridr//, no mates, no status?
Still near, the stranger’s face remains passive, but his body leans slightly forward. “Over my long life, I have wanted one thing. That is the thing you have.”
[[“Long life? You are hardly half so old as I, //jile.//”|Long life food]]He simply laughs quietly to himself as though enjoying a personal joke.
[[“Well, young one who thinks he is old, tell me. What do I have?”|Well young one food]]“Truth.”
Silence then, waiting for him to continue. He does not.
[[“Truth about…?”|Truth about food]]“All. Everything. It ties together, see, this truth and that truth, one secret to the next, as is the way with waves and ripples of the world’s fates. I have traveled long and far for this truth, and now they with the faces of sheep and the skins of wolves pursue me, knowing what I seek. And here we are. Faced with truth and secret.”
[[1. “I care not what you seek. Release me.”|I care not food]]
[[2. “Why take me hostage, if I am not your enemy?”|Why take me hostage food]]“I have not bound you. If I had wanted to hurt you, to take your life, I could already have done so – and easily. But to our point. You no longer have a //maateg// to carry you, your companions are long dead, and you are alone at the end of your life, same as I.”
Your //maateg//. Weighty and sour is the ache that returns, unbidden, to your gut – an ache familiar all these long years. The //stridr// whose journey through life was bound with yours, with whom was shared all…gone. So long has it been now…where is the memory of your //stridr//-brother’s face, conformation, even breed? It is clouded with a deep fog of pain.
Speaks still the stranger: “There is one last good thing you can do for this world before you leave it, old one, and that is to give it truth.”
The truth. Though it is unclear how he came by your identity, you begin to realize what he seeks: all you saw, all you remember from so many years ago. Somehow, it is important to him.
[[1. “The past is not important. Every Altmeg knows that there is only the present.”|The past is not important food]]
[[2. “Why would I tell you my secrets? Why do you need them?”|Why would I tell you food]]
[[3. “If I tell you the story of my youth, will you let me go?”|If I tell you food]]“Hostage. That overused, misunderstood word.” A chuckle, a tilt of the head. “I have not bound you. If I had wanted to hurt you, to take your life, I could already have done so – and easily. But to our point. You no longer have a //maateg// to carry you, your companions are long dead, and you are alone at the end of your life, same as I.”
Your //maateg//. Weighty and sour is the ache that returns, unbidden, to your gut – an ache familiar all these long years. The //stridr// whose journey through life was bound with yours, with whom was shared all…gone. So long has it been now…where is the memory of your //stridr//-brother’s face, conformation, even breed? It is clouded with a deep fog of pain.
Speaks still the stranger: “There is one last good thing you can do for this world before you leave it, old one, and that is to give it truth.”
The truth. Though it is unclear how he came by your identity, you begin to realize what he seeks: all you saw, all you remember from so many years ago. Somehow, it is important to him.
[[1. “The past is not important. Every Altmeg knows that there is only the present.”|The past is not important food]]
[[2. “Why would I tell you my secrets? Why do you need them?”|Why would I tell you food]]
[[3. “If I tell you the story of my youth, will you let me go?”|If I tell you food]]Vanishes the distance between you, his face a breath from yours, dull hazel eyes wide with fervor. “We do not have time for this!” he hisses. Pulls away sharply, cloak hood dropping. Snaps his hood over his curls again. Goes slack, body simply hanging from his bones. “So. Many. Questions. So many delays. It will be another lifetime to find it, but by then it will be gone.”
For a time he looks at the sky, lost in the stars or somewhere far away, anguish painting half his face. Then he turns to regard you again. In his expression is restraint conflicting with the eager light in his eyes, greedy to take what he cannot, ravenous as flame licking stones, unable to consume them.
“No , you would not tell me your secrets – but neither would you stay silent. It is a quandary of sorts. If you do, the world will be swallowed. If you do not, truth will forsake all, plunging this world into darkness.” The stranger surprises you with an Altung phrase you know well. “//Tal uppflytta, sanning kraafen spræken//. ‘To move forward, truth must be spoken.’ All Alts know this, for silence is the way to destruction, they say, and secrets are for the living, not the dead. You will tell me because we have no time left, or you will see the futility in it and keep your silence.”
[[1. “Speak plainly, //jile//. I do not understand your riddles and wanderings.”|speak plainly]]
[[2. “Destruction, darkness…what reason do I have to trust that you speak the truth of these things?”|Destruction food]]
//[[3. Stay silent, pondering his words but guarding yours.|Stay silent food]]//“Ah, but it is. Altmeg do not even speak in the past tense, yes, but they remember – and one cannot remember without the past. You say that our people care only for the here and now…what is that phrase – ”
[[“//Dæn kin ken den rog kuun.// ‘Those he knows in the here and now’ – it signifies the importance of a present we can change over a past we cannot.”|Daen kin ken food]]“And that is where you and the rest of the Altmeg are wrong. The past is everything. I think you know this, and I think you think about the past more than you would admit. And so much of a past indeed for you to think on.”
[[1. “Why would I tell you my secrets? Why do you need them?”|Why would I tell you food]]
[[2. “If I tell you the story of my youth, will you let me go?”|If I tell you food]]“As I have said, you are unbound. Yet even should you walk away without giving what I seek, you are not free, same as I. The wolves of sheep faces will come for you as well, being someone who knows what you know.”
For a time he looks at the sky, lost in the stars or somewhere far away, anguish painting half his face. Then he turns to regard you again. In his expression is restraint conflicting with the eager light in his eyes, greedy to take what he cannot, ravenous as flame licking stones, unable to consume them.
“No, you would not tell me your secrets – but neither would you stay silent. It is a quandary of sorts. If you do, the world will be swallowed. If you do not, truth will forsake all, plunging this world into darkness.” The stranger surprises you with an Altung phrase you know well. “//Tal uppflytta, sanning kraafen spræken//. ‘To move forward, truth must be spoken.’ All Alts know this, for silence is the way to destruction, they say, and secrets are for the living, not the dead. You will tell me because we have no time left, or you will see the futility in it and keep your silence.”
[[1. “Speak plainly, //jile//. I do not understand your riddles and wanderings.”|speak plainly]]
[[2. “Destruction, darkness…what reason do I have to trust that you speak the truth of these things?”|Destruction food]]
//[[3. Stay silent, pondering his words but guarding yours.|Stay silent food]]//“None. Only that not long from now, those who pursue me will find me. And you. You asked, did you not? I gave answer.” He digs in the travel sack and pulls out the large tome. “So, old one. What will it be? Which do you fear more: secrets and eternal darkness, or truth and the destruction of all?”
[[1. “I will tell you the story you seek.”|I will tell you food]]
[[2. “My secrets are my own.”|My secrets are my own food]]“More silence. You and your secrets, nearly as furtive as I.” He digs in the travel sack and pulls out the large tome. “Perhaps you shall tell all nonetheless. So, old one. What will it be? Which do you fear more: secrets and eternal darkness, or truth and the destruction of all?”
[[1. “I will tell you the story you seek.”|I will tell you food]]
[[2. “My secrets are my own.”|My secrets are my own food]]Quill and ink the stranger retrieves and beside you settles. “Then I shall write it to them, that they may understand.”
[[“Who—”|Who food]]“Very well. Does anyone still live who knows what you know?”
[[“No.”|No food]]“Everyone. Now begin. And may this knowledge survive what is to come.”
From your mouth into the crackling of the campfire stream the first phrases, consumed with a hunger as aching and desperate as wolves that hunt the last sheep. Over the stranger’s shoulder, you see your words bleeding black into the page:
//It begins in the year of the Einhorn in your youth, when you are first bonded to your //maateg//, unmarked by the world and on the cusp of discovering your path in life…//
[[>>|to be continued]]“Then I await my fate, as do you. As does the world. Again.” In both hands takes he the rough tome, rises, moves to the fire, and drops it in.
Flames lick the oiled leather and thick pages, just as hungry as your gut that screamed for food not long ago – as hungry as the stranger for what you will not give him, and as hungry as wolves that hunt the sheep. It is a hunger you remember from long ago, when you were first bonded to your //maateg//, unmarked by the world and on the cusp of discovering your path in life…
[[>>|to be continued]]A twitch of the eye. Rapid words, then, from one who has little time to speak them. “Of course you do not understand. You are but the bearer. I will say my meaning: If you speak of your past, those who pursue me will kill you and wreak their havoc on our world to find and destroy such knowledge, but there is a chance this book I scribe will survive and reach the ignorant. If you do not speak of what you know, darkness will follow, and all the world will forget what is most important to remember: The truth of the past. They will make the same mistakes, fall by the same traps, meet the same fate as before and before and before.”
[[1. “Destruction, darkness…what reason do I have to trust that you speak the truth of these things?”|Destruction food]]
//[[2. Stay silent, pondering his words but guarding yours.|Stay silent food]]//A twitch of the eye. Rapid words, then, from one who has little time to speak them. “Of course you do not understand. You are but the bearer. I will say my meaning: If you speak of your past, those who pursue me will kill you and wreak their havoc on our world to find and destroy such knowledge, but there is a chance this book I scribe will survive and reach the ignorant. If you do not speak of what you know, darkness will follow, and all the world will forget what is most important to remember: The truth of the past. They will make the same mistakes, fall by the same traps, meet the same fate as before and before and before.”
[[1. “Destruction, darkness…what reason do I have to trust that you speak the truth of these things?”|2. “Destruction, darkness…what reason do I have to trust that you speak the truth of these things?”]]
//[[2. Stay silent, pondering his words but guarding yours.|3. Stay silent, pondering his words but guarding yours.]]//(align:"=><=")[//To be continued...//]
(align:"=><=")[Thank you for playing this "first draft" demo of Tales of Talys! If you have any feedback, do let me know. I am always looking to improve.]