9 Tales From Elsewhere 6

by 9 Tales From Elsewhere

  9TALES FROM ELSEWHERE #6

  © Copyright 2016 Bride of Chaos/ All Rights Reserved to the Authors.

  First electronic edition 2016

  Edited by A.R. Jesse

  Cover by Turtle&Noise

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  9TALES FROM ELSEWHERE #6

  Table of Contents

  VALLEY OF IRICIA by Myke Edwards

  THE SAND DANCER by Andrew Knighton

  THE LAST CURMUDGEON by James Jensen

  ARRDUM’S PROMISE by Shane Porteous

  ESSENCES by Jim Lee

  CLOSE CALL by Shawn P. Madison

  ESCAPEMENT, OR THE CONTEMPORARY COPPELIUS by Judith Field

  THE HUNTRESS by Amanda Jourdan

  RHAPSODY by Joseph Cusumano

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  TALES

  FROM

  ELSEWHERE

  #6

  VALLEY OF IRICIA by Myke Edwards

  Something fell from the sky. Something big, screeching through the air. It crashed into the middle of the lake, a plume of water erupting. Ingo's eyes followed, his mouth agape at the strange sight. Already on his way to the lake at the western end of the valley for his weekly bath, he could be there in mere minutes at a run.

  The lake smoldered, angry and confused. Water churned and hissed, waves surging past the shoreline of sand and pebbles, drawing nearer to the few circling trees. Axe in one hand and teeth gritted, Ingo stopped short of the trees, careful not to get too close. He knew danger when he saw it.

  "What manner of sorcery is this?" he asked aloud. With no one else in the valley, Ingo often voiced his wonderment.

  He gripped his massive, double-headed axe with a sigh as he glared at the freshly sharpened blades.

  "No use to me today, old friend."

  Once the lake calmed down, however, he could swim to the center and find whatever had fallen from the sky.

  He sat cross-legged on the shorter grass nearer the water, waiting for the torment to calm. The hissing and fizzing lessened, the waves came smaller, and the heat cooled. Still not cool enough to dive right in, however.

  In the sky, only one of the moons, Opu, was visible. Ao, smaller but brighter, would appear after dark. Tanasia, the twin planet to his own, sat far in the back, very faint, but bigger than half the sky.

  "Could this have come from one of you?" he asked the celestial bodies.

  Before leaving his village, several of the elders had spoken of the moons and planets, named for gods and legendary characters. Ingo wanted to explore his own world, rather than learn about things outside of it. No one had ever left the village before, nestled between two mountains far to the north.

  In the distance, a family of deer ate berries from a bush. He glanced down at his leather pants, worn and thin. That buck would make an excellent replacement. Perhaps later, but definitely before leaving.

  Climbing through the rough, slippery mountains paths surrounding Iricia would be rough. He would have to make an extra pair, just in case. His vest would last for a while, and the single tuft of long, pale hair atop of his head stayed out of his eyes, so Ingo had no other major upkeep to worry about before heading off.

  Not like he would be going home any time soon.

  He had left shortly after celebrating his second decade. Taller and stronger than his fellow villagers, Ingo knew that remaining at home would keep him from his destiny…whatever that may be. With his massive battle axe, a satchel full of salted meat, and some newly cobbled boots, he set forth to find it.

  Several weeks later, he had discovered this valley, devoid of people, and filled with plants and animals. At a walk, it would take two days from one long end of the valley to reach the other. Ingo loved every inch of the place, but knew he couldn't stay forever. Peaceful as it was, the rest of Turunia awaited, and Ingo needed to see more.

  He stood and walked in a slow circle, seeing all of Iricia. Warm, light breezes brought the sweet and spicy scents of flowers and plants, while small animals darted amongst the trees, bushes, and soft grasses. Even after two months of living in the valley, the grasses never grew higher than Ingo's knees, and he had never seen the sky look as clear as it did today.

  Cold, overcast weather had dominated most of his life. The valley, named for his father, may he live on, boasted warm air and blue skies. Freckled with small wisps of clouds, it caught the colors of the sunset, often reflected in the serenity of the lake.

  On this afternoon, however, the lake was anything but serene.

  The frothing and hissing finally settled. Dead center of the water, something rose. Something big and white, shaped like an egg with wings.

  Ingo watched the thing, made of what he guessed to be a type of metal and bigger than his family's hut, rise from the water. Something like ice, clear and reflective, sat curved on the front of the structure, but he knew ice would melt in this climate. Some sort of clear metal, perhaps? He had never seen anything like it.

  Ingo gripped his axe handle, his knuckles pulsing white. Double-headed, both blades were so heavy that no other man in his village could lift it. It weighed so much that the blacksmith threw out his back while forging it. A point, longer and sharper than a typical spearhead, jutted out from the tip of the handle between the two blades. It could stab through a fully grown man, while the blades would barely touch his skin.

  An animal behind him snapped a twig. The whirring that followed did not come from anything natural, however. Ingo crouched, ready to strike. Out on the lake, the clear material lifted away from the floating egg. A body, covered top to bottom in strange red clothing, sat inside.

  Ingo had come to Iricia while exploring the world. Would this thing be here for the same purpose?

  Little bumps prickled all down his neck and shoulders. Something skimmed over his shoulder from behind, fast as lightning, and brighter than fire. Eyes wide and mouth shut, Ingo spun around.

  Closing in, four men garbed like the man in the lake held spears pointed at him. More like long tubes, without a sharp end. Covered by black and white helmets, their faces remained a mystery, their clothes matching their helmets.

  Several strides stood between them. Ingo glared at them, and then back over his shoulder to the man in the middle of the lake. He lifted the axe, ready if he needed it, but made no move to attack.

  His father had taught him to give everyone—everything—a fair chance at life.

  "Who are you? And what brings you to my valley?"

  One of them lifted the front of his helmet. Green, scaly flesh surrounded one large, oily eye. Beaded lips separated in a serrated grin. Ingo's breath caught at the sight.

  The man pointed toward the lake. "We are here for him. Step aside, and let us alone."

  "You speak my tongue." Ingo grunted. "Yet you look so different."

  "Never mind that, simpleton. Let us pass."

  Ingo twisted at the waist. The man inside the egg removed his helmet. Ingo looked back to the four close to him. After a quick glance
up at the barely visible celestial bodies, he smiled.

  "He came here for a reason, as have I. Nothing will keep me from my destiny." He squeezed his fingers a bit tighter. "Nothing will keep him from his."

  "Out of the way! This doesn't concern you."

  "This is my valley," Ingo said. "I protect what needs to be protected."

  "He has something that belongs to us," the green man said. "If you wish to fulfill your destiny, move along."

  "But who is the rightful owner?" Ingo asked. When no one answered, he laughed.

  They all held their tubes straighter, still trained on Ingo.

  At the movement, Ingo crouched down. Before he could take a breath, he pushed down with his toes. Warm air kissed his face, sailing forward. His forehead slammed the man with the exposed face.

  They tumbled to the ground, arms flailing. Ingo slammed the haft of his axe into the man's nose. Green blood, darker than his flesh, sprayed as his face exploded.

  Scorching fire pelted Ingo's back. His free clasped just above his waist. Tender and raw, droplets of blood clung to his fingers. Ingo looked up.

  Another man pointed his tube at Ingo. With a grunt, Ingo pulled the fallen green-face upright in front of himself. Two bolts of fire struck the body, a final breath wheezing out. Ingo hopped up, the carcass slumping to the grass. The other two turned and ran as the shooter redirected his tube at Ingo.

  In one savage movement, Ingo raised his axe and sliced through the man's neck. With a rush of blood, both head and body fell to the grass. Ingo took off after the others.

  One of the runners turned at the waist. Hot lightning blasted from his tube. Ingo darted to the right, but felt a scorch on his shoulder. He maintained his speed, despite the lingering burn.

  The gap between him and the shooter closed. Ingo swung his axe around, slicing through the air. The massive blade sliced through the man's waist, like water in a stream. Ingo burst through both halves of the carcass, never losing his stride.

  The final man stopped at the edge of the trees. Raising his tube, he aimed at Ingo, at least fifty running strides between them.

  A bolt of fire shot forth. Still running, Ingo ducked down. Another came as he rose, slamming into his left shoulder. Worse than fire, his arm ceased to work. At the same time, he felt nothing, his body powered on its own. This man needed to be removed from Iricia.

  Still running, Ingo rammed the spear tip of his axe through the man's neck. Pathetic, gurgling obscenities oozed forth. Green blood sprayed, gushing down the axe handle at the same time.

  Ingo dug his heels into the ground, skidding to a halt. Momentum carried the carcass through the air, green blood raining over the grass and dirt.

  His chest heaving, Ingo turned. Motionless and stunned, the first man stood where Ingo had dropped him. Still alive, blood trickling down his face and standing on quivering legs, the man lifted his tube. With a toothy smile, Ingo resumed his charge. The man fired repeated blasts.

  Red flashes bounced off of an axe head. A growl built in Ingo's throat. Another bolt bit into his thigh, but Ingo didn't care. The distance between them minimal, Ingo shrieked a full on war cry. It wasn't enough.

  Ingo slashed down. The axe dug into the man's torso, starting at the right shoulder and ending at the opposite hip. Digging his fingers into the man's suit, Ingo yanked the body apart. Blood covered him head to toe, the man's fluids and entrails piling at his feet. Ingo bellowed one last time, echoes spreading across the valley.

  Hands relaxed, his axe falling to the ground. The intruders in his valley no longer a problem, the tight ball in his stomach abated. Ingo's destiny would continue.

  Eyes on the bloody grass, Ingo whispered: "Bless these taken lives, and bless me in future learnings."

  Viscous green blood covered him head to toe. That buck would make a fine new set of pants and vest after all. His long tuft of hair remained, but a gash had opened on his scalp. Like every other wound he had received in and on the way to Iricia, it would heal eventually. Shoulders, knees, arms and legs all burned and ached, but the time for pain would come in time.

  Ingo looked to the middle of the lake. Like those other men, the man in the egg lay completely still. Ingo ran over the beach, diving into the water.

  The unusual warmth of the typically cool lake, as well as his stinging gash and myriad scrapes and burns meant nothing. Ingo powered through the water. His head popped up next to the egg, inhaling a mighty breath. With a good grip on one of the wings, he lifted himself out of the water.

  Unmoving and unblinking, the man inside stared at Ingo. Thick scales a shade darker than his skin color covered his scalp instead of hair. The others, all crazed and ready to kill, looked nothing like this one, slumped in his chair, life fading fast.

  "They came for you," Ingo said.

  The man nodded. "They followed me." His voice struggled to get out, like Ingo's father after that boar's tusk ripped through his midsection. "You stopped them."

  "This is my valley. I protect what needs to be protected."

  "I wish you could have protected me…before I came." The man clutched at his side, practically digging in.

  Green blood oozed out of a slash in the red suit. Much like with his father, Ingo had to let the man be at peace, and do nothing else.

  The man in red swallowed hard. His other hand disappeared into his suit. Seconds later, he offered Ingo a blue gem. "They won't stop…until they get it."

  Pure explicit beauty, the size of his fist and perfectly round and smooth, Ingo could see the man's red-clad hand through the stone.

  "A true treasure! Surely all of Turunia will come for it."

  "They weren't from here." A trembling finger pointed to the barely-visible Tanasia. "There. They won't stop…"

  Ingo's eyebrows shot up. "From…Tanasia?" He understood, though. This planet boasted nothing like this giant metal thing, or men with green skin and weapons unlike any he had ever seen. But why so much trouble for a rock, regardless of its splendor?

  "Take it…from me." The man swallowed hard. "Don't stay. You need to leave…keep this…safe. Never…" He swallowed again, eyelid fluttering. "Never let them…"

  Ingo let out a massive breath. He whispered his prayer, the same one he did anytime someone or something died, whether by his hand or not. With a last look at the man's lifeless form, he grabbed the precious stone, blue as the summer sky.

  "Why do they want this?" That didn't matter—this was something important and precious. "A gem from the sky… Now mine to protect." He slipped it into his vest pocket and turned around.

  Before he could dive into the water to return to shore, he froze.

  More men in black and white suits and helmets had entered the valley. Off in the eastern distance, they moved quicker than any person Ingo had ever seen. To the north, even more filed in through a mountain pass. To the south and west, the same.

  Ingo nodded, patting the blue gem in his pocket.

  "I am Ingo, protector of the Valley of Iricia," he said. "I am the guardian of the Sky Gem, and champion of my people."

  He took a deep breath, swelling his chest. His heart pumped heavy with every beat. Those men filing into his valley would never live to see Ao rise with the dusk. This valley named for his father would always be there, but Ingo knew he might not, especially if he stayed. He dove into the water.

  Emerging onto the rocky shore, Ingo lifted his axe and gripped it tight. The men in helmets all came his way. He laughed, low and guttural. They didn't stand a chance.

  THE END.

  THE SAND DANCER by Andrew Knighton

  Fadiyah crept through the darkened streets, her heart pounding in her chest, the wooden box with its cargo of freedom clutched tightly in her hand. The first glow of dawn was appearing above the city walls, a glow red as the blood that stained the streets. Soon day would break and the imams would call the people to prayer. How many would answer, she wondered. How many could bring themselves to believe in a god in the face of man's cruelty?
But then, how many would dare to break the bonds of custom, to risk standing out?

  Something was moving in an alleyway. She paused, huddling nervously in the shadows of a doorway, the mudbrick wall rough against her skin. There was a purr and a cat prowled out, something limp and bloody dangling from its jaws. She sighed in relief and started moving again, hurrying to be gone before the city woke.

  Fadiyah felt like that limp, bloody thing the cat carried, trapped in the teeth of a fierce and terrible predator. With each year at court its grip had tightened, squeezing the life from her even as she sought a way out, for her and all her kin. Now that way had appeared. The time for watching and waiting was over. It was time to go home, to gather the strength her kin had hidden for so long, so at last they might end the tyranny.

  The gates were still guarded by men, not the Sultan's fearsome machines. Fadiyah approached the youth on the east portal, his ill-fitting helmet slipping down his forehead. He leaned against the city's towering wall, spear cradled to him, watching the streets with sleepy eyes. The guard stiffened as Fadiyah approached, lowered the tip of the spear warily. He was barely more than a child, and his presence should have caused her no fear. But all he had to do was shout and a dozen more would come running, men and machines.

  She let her hips sway, putting the dance into her stride. Her coin belt jangled a little, more noise than she would have liked, but a necessary risk. It was the first true dance she had learned, the dance of meeting, so close to mundane the magic barely showed. Powered by the rhythm of the dancer's own footsteps, it was not powerful, only magnifying the dancer's own beauty. For her that was enough.

  The youth's stance softened. He raised his spear and a smile spread across his face. And Fadiyah herself smiled to know that she could still have that effect.

  'Halt there please,' the guard said.

  'But I need to leave,' Fadiyah said, still swaying as she came close, voice low so he would lean in towards her. 'I have to go and visit my sister. She is fat with child and needs my care.'