Aphanasian Stories
Rhonda Parrish
Rhonda Parrish
Copyright © 2012 Rhonda Parrish
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1481249479
ISBN-13: 978-1481249478
Front cover image by Darek Zabrocki
Cover design by Jonathan Parrish
Aphanasian Stories
Dedicated to you.
Yes, you.
Rhonda Parrish
Aphanasian Stories
Contents
A Love Story .................................................................................. - 7 -
Chapter One ............................................................................................... - 7 -
Chapter Three .......................................................................................... - 17 -
Chapter Four ............................................................................................ - 19 -
Chapter Five ............................................................................................ - 23 -
Chapter Six .............................................................................................. - 31 -
Chapter Seven .......................................................................................... - 35 -
Chapter Eight ........................................................................................... - 39 -
Chapter Nine ............................................................................................ - 45 -
Chapter Ten ............................................................................................. - 51 -
Chapter Eleven ........................................................................................ - 55 -
Chapter Twelve ....................................................................................... - 61 -
Chapter Thirteen ...................................................................................... - 65 -
Chapter Fourteen ..................................................................................... - 71 -
Lost and Found ........................................................................... - 77 -
Chapter One ............................................................................................. - 77 -
Chapter Two ............................................................................................ - 83 -
Chapter Three .......................................................................................... - 89 -
Chapter Four ............................................................................................ - 97 -
Chapter Five .......................................................................................... - 105 -
Chapter Six ............................................................................................ - 111 -
Chapter Seven ........................................................................................ - 117 -
Chapter Eight ......................................................................................... - 121 -
Chapter Ten ........................................................................................... - 135 -
Chapter Eleven ...................................................................................... - 141 -
Chapter Thirteen .................................................................................... - 155 -
Chapter Fourteen ................................................................................... - 163 -
Sister Margaret.......................................................................... - 167 -
Rhonda Parrish
Aphanasian Stories
A Love Story
Chapter One
"Z'thandra we're out of water."
Z'thandra turned over and opened her eyes to see a pair of
scaly-green feet. Pushing her thin, grey blanket off herself she looked up and smiled sleepily. "Good morning, Ulda"
The Reptar woman smiled back at her, transforming her face
from fierce to maternal. Her entire body was devoid of hair, and a long, thick tail trailed behind her on the cracked stone floor. She was covered in scales, mostly dark green but with occasional spots of golden yellow and clad in a skirt and blouse that, while of good quality, were mismatched and fit poorly. "Good morning, Z'thandra.
We're out of water."
"I'll get some in just a minute." Z'thandra answered in Reptarian. Even now, after years of using the language the words felt foreign and it took some effort to wrap her tongue around them first thing in the morning.
"Thank you."
Ulda turned and left the room, tugging a poorly-hung door
closed behind her with a squeak. Z'thandra stretched and rose from her bed on the floor. Looking down at the straw mattress covered with a scratchy blanket she thought it looked more like a nest than a bed. She considered straightening out the blanket for a second, but quickly dismissed the idea and wandered over to the closet-like room attached to her bedroom.
The room was very small, and while it had four walls it lacked a ceiling of any kind. A rusted metal faucet with a basin inset in the counter beneath it moldered in one corner. A cracked mirror hung haphazardly from a nail driven into the crumbling mortar between the stones in the wall and in the corner, a wooden seat with a hole cut in the center served as a toilet.
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Rhonda Parrish
Z'thandra relieved her straining bladder, then went over to the faucet. She put a stopper in the bottom of the basin and, ignoring the taps, poured a small amount of water from the pitcher on the counter into the sink and washed up with it. While she washed she studiously avoided looking down into the water, choosing instead to study her distorted reflection in the glass.
Her eyes were a dark cerulean blue, and her skin the color of bark. Her hair was dark green, like some of the moss that hung from the trees in the spring. It was also incredibly long and thick. Usually it was twisted into elaborate braids but since she'd just woken it tumbled down her back until its tips brushed against the back of her knees.
She smiled as she studied her cheeks for blemishes and found
none. It seemed Ulda's secret swamp recipe really had gotten rid of them all – just one more thing to be grateful to her for. Z'thandra swept a washcloth across her face and down her neck, then, satisfied she was ready to face the day, used the pitcher to scoop out the remaining water from the basin and dump it in the latrine.
On the way back into her bedroom, she stubbed her toe on the
uneven floor.
"Blet!" she grimaced, and grabbed onto her chest of drawers for support, only to feel the corner of them give way beneath her weight. She barely managed to keep her balance long enough to lower herself slowly to the ground, where she sat for a very long time, holding her injured foot and staring at the splintered bits of wood that had once been the foot of her dresser. "Blet," she said, this time under her breath.
An hour later, with the corner of her dresser propped up with an appropriately-sized stone from the garden and a wooden bucket in each hand, Z'thandra followed the path beside the old irrigation pipes from her home out toward the small freshwater lake. The pipes always made her sad, and this morning was no exception. They came up to her knees, in the places where they weren't collapsed, and had been carved out of the trunks of trees that grew many miles from here. Once, the Reptar had only to turn a tap and water would stream from the faucets – once. Now they were a mess, clogged and
overgrown, rotting and unusable. Ulda said they'd not worked in her lifetime and yet,
here they were.
She sighed and tried to imagine what they must have been like when they'd worked and been maintained – amazing no doubt. They
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Aphanasian Stories
were impressive still all these years later. How long had passed since the last trickle had flowed through them? Two hundred years?
Three? Had the Reptars on the other side, the ones receiving the water, known they were going to be the last to ever use them?
Realizing she was almost to the lake, Z'thandra pulled herself out of her reverie and scanned the area around her, looking for the scrap of dirty cloth the villagers used to mark old pit-traps. The Reptars had once used deep pits for hunting – crocodiles and other animals would fall through the thin branches covered with leaves and find themselves trapped in a deep hole. The hunters could then spear them at their leisure, without risk of injury. Their enemies, too, had more than occasionally breathed their last from the bottom of a pit. Like the irrigation pipes the traps had fallen into disrepair and as hunters died their locations had become something of a mystery.
When one was found the villagers left it in place to protect the village, but marked its location with a scrap of cloth – easily missed by those who weren't looking for them. Z'thandra had walked this route enough to know there was one nearby and she didn't want to discover its exact location the hard way.
Her eyes meandered over every scrub plant and diminutive
tree, but still she didn't see the marker. Had she already passed it?
She turned to look behind her, but saw nothing there either. Where was it? She could use her heatvision if she concentrated, but that always made her feel ill so it wasn't her first choice for a solution.
Just as the tension knotted in the bottom of her stomach began to unfurl and send tendrils of fear throughout her body, Z'thandra heard the unmistakable sound of giggling in the bushes to her left.
"That's funny is it Orga?"
An adolescent Reptar stepped out of the shrubs. Her scales
were various shades of grey and a malicious grin marred what would otherwise be an attractive face, for a Reptar. "Oh, what's wrong elf? "
she sneered. "Can't you see the way to go?"
Z'thandra sighed. "This isn't funny – if I fall into the pit I could be seriously hurt."
"Yeah, and if that happened I'd feel so bad."
"Orga, I—"
"You what, elf? You didn't ask to come live with us? It's not your fault mother found you in the swamp and brought you home?
You've never done anything to me. Wah, wah, wah. I've heard it all before and I. Don't. Care."
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Rhonda Parrish
"Why do you hate me so much?"
Orga rolled her eyes and stomped back through the underbrush
toward the village. "Good luck Z'thandra. I sure hope you pick the right direction and don't fall and break a leg."
"Blet!" Z'thandra cursed under her breath and stifled the urge to stamp her foot like a child. She sighed and then pursed her lips, screwing up her face and concentrating. For a split second she wondered if it was meant to be this hard to switch from normal to heatvision, but since she didn't think any others of her race were alive, there was no way to find out for sure. Shoving that particularly unpleasant thought back to the depths of her brain where it belonged, she focused her attention on her eyes, gritted her teeth and put all her energy into it.
Deep within her she felt something snap, as it always did. Like a musician plucking the string on an instrument, the note
reverberated through her and when she opened her eyes again it was as though she were looking at a whole different world. Instead of the usual, rather bland, earthy colors of the swamp, Z'thandra saw a world of bright, shifting lights. The shapes of things in front of her were the same, but instead of seeing them as she had, she saw each thing differently depending on its warmth. Scanning the ground it was now quite easy to pick out where the pit was. The hollow pocket it made in the ground was a different color than the surrounding soil.
Z'thandra slowly picked her way around it, buckets in hand. As she made her way toward the beach, she began to feel the weakness in her knees and flutter in her stomach that always accompanied her heatvision, but she gritted her teeth and kept going. She paused each time she found a pit to mark it with whatever she could find nearby, piles of stones or sticks driven into the ground. Later, she told herself, she would return to find the original scraps of cloth and mark them that way once more.
She was almost at the lake when she caught a glimpse of
something across the water. She paused and watched as something human-sized and roughly human-shaped, moved through the trees. It darted from trunk to trunk, pressing against them and moving
furtively. Her suspicions aroused Z'thandra took another step closer and tripped.
Landing in the damp earth she scraped the palms of her hand
against something round and scaly. The pain brought an abrupt end to her concentration and her heatvision.
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Aphanasian Stories
"Drek," she heard a familiar voice curse as the world returned to its normal colors. From her position on her hands and knees in the dirt she looked down and saw a thick armored tail, green with black diamonds down the center. Following it up to the face of the Reptar it belonged to she sighed.
"I'm sorry Eerna, I was using heatvision and when I do that I can't see Reptars because you blend in with your –"
"If you can't see Reptars when you do it," Eerna snarled, jerking her tail away from Z'thandra, "then you shouldn't use it while you're living with Reptars, should you?"
Z'thandra could feel her stomach flipping over and over and
swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. "I'm sorry Eerna,"
she whispered, scrambling to her feet and wiping ineffectually at the mud that stained her skirt. "It won't happen again."
"It better not!"
"Oh, Eerna," Z'thandra called out as the older Reptar started toward the path back to the village. "Be careful, Org—erm, someone moved the markers for the pits. I put up stone piles and –"
"Using 'heatvision' and then changing the markers for the pits?
Keep it up Z'thandra and I'll have you hauled in front of the council!"
"But I didn't –"
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, I'll let it pass, but you put those markers back right away, you hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am," Z'thandra answered, dropping her eyes to the ground. "I understand ma'am."
As the Reptar made her way back toward the village, Z'thandra went to the edge of the lake and filled her buckets. Avoiding looking at the reflections on the water, Z'thandra directed her eyes toward the horizon and suddenly remembered what she'd been looking at before she'd tripped over Eerna's tail. There was something on the other side of the lake!
She scanned the tree line, but without her heatvision it was
impossible to pick anything out, and her nausea prohibited her from trying to use it again. Filling the buckets as quickly as she could, she scurried back toward the village, feeling invisible eyes drilling into the space between her shoulder blades the whole way.
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Rhonda Parrish
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Aphanasian Stories
Chapter Two
Z'thandra opened the front door of the hut, and rested her back on it when it slammed shut behind her. She let her eyes adjust to the difference in light inside, and looked over Ulda's kitchen.
There were no windows – there had been once, right beside the door, but Grung had sealed them up long ago when the shutters had stopped working. The wall opposite of the door was dominated by a large trestle table with a long bench along one side and chairs with holes cut in the back for the Reptar's tails along the other. To the left of her was a row of counters and a stoppered sink. It was no longer connected to any plumbing; instead a bucket lay underneath it to catch the w
ater when it was drained. The fireplace was to the right and beside that stood the wood-burning stove Ulda never used for fear that the chimney was faulty, or the home of a bird's nest.
"What happened to your dress, Z'thandra?" Ulda asked in concern as she entered the kitchen from the long hallway that housed their bedrooms.
"Yes," cooed Orga from the kitchen table, "what happened to your dress, Z'thandra?"
Looking from the sincere face of the older Reptar to the smug one of the younger, Z'thandra sighed. "Nothing, I just tripped is all."
She moved over to the counter and deposited the full buckets
there. Studiously ignoring Orga, she turned toward the matronly Reptar. "Ulda, I thought I saw someone in the swamp today."
"I'm sure you did dear," Ulda smiled, moving over to the buckets of water and carefully portioning them out. She poured water into several different pitchers and some into the stoppered sink. "There were a lot of villagers going to the lake today, it always seems like we all run out of water at the same time."
Z'thandra faked a laugh and moved closer to her foster mother, putting her back to Orga completely. She reached into the sink and began to wash the dishes without being asked, and then stacked them on a cloth laid out on the counter to dry. "That's because we all run out every other day."
"True. They say before the curse these blasted things worked,"
Ulda tapped the faucet of the sink with one scaly finger.
"They could again, if the council would just –"
"Now don't start that again Z'thandra. The council knows best, if they say the pipes can't be fixed, they can't be fixed."
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Rhonda Parrish
Z'thandra sighed as she heard Orga's spiteful laughter from
behind her. "Yeah Z'thandra," she mocked, stretching out each syllable of her name. "The council knows best."
"Of course it does," she intoned without emotion before turning back to Ulda, ignoring Orga as she flounced out of the room and down the hall toward her bedroom. "I don't think what I saw across the lake was a Reptar, Ulda. I think it was a human – or maybe an elf."
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