Aphanasian Stories

by Rhonda Parrish

  If she still had the stone they'd have to listen to her explain, she thought irrationally. She was about to say she would go back with

  - 72 -

  Aphanasian Stories

  them, she'd explain, they'd have to see, to understand – then the first rock struck her shoulder.

  She turned to see Itra preparing to throw another small stone at her, and turned to shield herself from the attack. It bounced off the middle of her back and she grunted in pain at the force behind it.

  "Stop," she cried.

  "Give it back!" he hissed. "Thief. Swamp elf, you think you can steal our stone and get away with it?"

  As he bent over to pick up more rocks from the ground

  Z'thandra bolted.

  "Thief!" Itra screamed loudly, and then Orga's voice joined in.

  "She's got the stone, get her! Thief!"

  Z'thandra ran, as fast as she could with the stone's weight in her arms. She crashed through the brush, about as graceful as Greasl and with no sense of direction. She could hear Orga and Itra close behind her, continuing to call for help, and soon the sounds of other voices joined in the choir and she could hear more bodies in the bush all around. Her heart pounded and her hands grew slick with sweat, as she continued to run in the direction she heard the least noise.

  Smashing through the bush, she found herself in the village. In almost every direction she looked she could see angry faces, hostile Reptars, all hunting for her. "I didn't –" she started to explain and then realized it was pointless, they were beyond reason. To her left she could see the path to the sacred grove and, since no Reptar stood between she and it, that's the direction she ran.

  She tore down the velvet path, lost and confused with no plan other than to run. The failing light tricked her and she stumbled but didn't fall. She continued to gain momentum as she ran down hill, down toward the grove.

  Behind her she could hear the mob gaining. Their shouts grew

  angrier, louder. She tried not to pay attention to the threats they were hurling, like spears, at her back and just focused on running. I don't remember hearing them in my vision, she thought at one time, then shocked by the realization she was living out two visions in one night, she stumbled again and went down, flat against the ground.

  She tightened her grip on the stone and felt it press against her breast as she stumbled to her feet and looked over her shoulder in fear.

  They were coming.

  They were coming and she had no where to run. The trees

  grew too close together here for her to hope to find her way out

  - 73 -

  Rhonda Parrish

  through the brush and even now, as she stood in the center of the grove and spun around, helplessly looking for escape, she could see familiar Reptars, their faces distorted by rage, spilling from the path

  – there was no escape for her there.

  Clutching the stone to her chest with one arm she held the

  other out defensively. "No, it's not what you think," she shouted over the angry snarls and growls of the mob. "I wasn't stealing it, I was brining it back."

  They'll have to believe me, she thought irrationally, I’m

  holding the stone, surely they won't think it's possible for me to lie.

  Then Itra threw another stone at her. This one struck her in the thigh and made her stumble and cry out in pain. "Please," she sobbed. "I'm telling you the truth."

  She looked around the semi-circle of Reptar in front of her,

  searching for a friendly face, someone who might listen to reason, but all she saw were villagers shaking their fists at her, or scrounging around on the ground for stones to throw.

  Another rock struck her, this one in her knee which sent her to the ground. She stayed there, curled around the stone protectively.

  "Please," she gasped one last time.

  A shower of stones the size of fists and bigger rained down

  upon her as she lay on the frozen ground, holding the stone against her like a mother would a baby. It was as if the entire mob had heard a signal and loosed their weapons at the same time. Z'thandra looked up to see their malicious grins, their irrational hatred. Even though she knew she was staring at her death, still, she pitied them.

  Though they struck her at almost exactly the same time,

  Z'thandra felt each stone, each blow, distinctly. The one that crushed her left arm, the one that destroyed her nose, even the one the fatal one, that shattered her skull, she felt them all. She wasn't sure if she cried out. She meant to, as starbursts of agony exploded all over her body, but she didn't hear anything.

  Then, in the magical instant when the last beam of sunlight

  slipped beneath the horizon, the last swamp elf breathed out for the last time. As she exhaled onto the stone, wet with her blood, it began to thrum, then pulse and beat like a heart. Z'thandra knew she was dead, but she could still feel it, warm and beating in her arms right below where her own heart had recently stopped.

  She felt herself begin to grow, to change. She shouldn't be able to feel anything, she thought, but then, she shouldn’t be able to think.

  - 74 -

  Aphanasian Stories

  Around and around her thoughts went while Z'thandra shifted. Her body began to glow. She could no longer see, but she could sense it.

  She knew she was glowing, and growing. She expanded, twisted and distorted herself, still clutching the stone. Then the most amazing part happened, more astounding even than being aware once she was dead – she absorbed the stone.

  She felt her body wrap around it, and then, they were one. She felt the stone wedge itself where her broken and un-beating heart had been and begin to pump. As it pumped she continued to grow,

  physically and mentally. Her mind expanded along with her body.

  She knew things, so many things. She could see the past, the future and the present.

  While fireflies danced above, illuminating the scene,

  Z'thandra became a tree.

  She sunk her roots deep into the velvety ground, and rose,

  higher and higher until she was as tall as the tallest tree surrounding the clearing. Then her trunk began to swell. Soon it was so wide that the crowd took several steps back away from it and Z'thandra felt their fear that she would absorb them as she had the stone. When she was as wide as any Reptar house, Z'thandra grew branches. Mighty branches. Some of them swept up majestically to crown her trunk, while others shot straight down into the earth like anchors to further hold her in place.

  Knowledge seeped in through her roots and was absorbed

  through her leaves, her trunk, the bark that had become her skin.

  Z'thandra had been reborn, with the stone at her heart. She would guide the Reptars. She, along with the stone, would save them from extinction and show them the way. It was all so clear to her now and she felt at peace, or would have, if it weren't for the part of her heart that was still broken, that still yearned for Dorian.

  Time moved slowly for a tree. She had much to discover,

  much to teach, and much to do. For now she would serve to inspire and she would mourn. She would use the power of the stone to

  extend the Reptars' lives so they could survive until she was ready to teach them. She would be their salvation.

  - 75 -

  Rhonda Parrish

  - 76 -

  Aphanasian Stories

  Lost and Found

  Book One: There

  Chapter One

  The small side door, though it shut gently behind him,

  resonated like a gong in Xavier's ears. The squeaking of the leather hinges and the dry rubbing of the warped wood made him freeze in place, the door against his back. He held his breath, looking up into the starry sky above him. The four tentacles that sprouted from his back ceased swaying until the soft sounds of night reassured him that no one had noticed his escape from the castle.

  His silvery eyes, adapted to see with only the faintes
t hints of light, served him well as he picked his way across the top of the hill.

  To his right he could see the outlines of small cages pressed up against the castle and could hear the snores of the dogs within them.

  Looking left, he could see a scattering of outbuildings and between them the flickering light of a sputtering fire. Some of Scholar's men were gathered around it and he could hear the sounds of a dice game.

  He moved carefully, but quickly, bolting from building to

  building and pressing himself against their walls, praying to every god he could think of that their shadows would swallow him up. He wasn't sure how long the guard upstairs would remain unconscious and how long it would be after he woke before he'd get his gag off and sound the alarm. Probably not long. His stomach rumbled with anticipation and hunger, and he clutched it with his hands, as much from habit as to smother its grumbling. He hadn't eaten in days because he'd been sure Scholar had been drugging his food. It seemed that he'd been right. In the food's absence his mind had begun to clear, but the lack of nutrition was taking its toll. That was a problem which would have to be dealt with later, for now he had to get off the hill.

  Reaching the outbuilding farthest from the castle, Xavier

  flattened his body against the ground and crawled forward. He took a deep breath and looked down the slope as he reached the crest of the

  - 77 -

  Rhonda Parrish

  hill. The moon was high in the sky and lit the ground quite well, even without his exceptional eyesight he would have been able to dodge the larger boulders and more obvious holes. Praying the hillside didn't have any traps he couldn't see, he slid over the crest on his belly, gritting his teeth to hold back a sound of pain. The stones scraped against his chest, tugging at the bandage there, and the spiky grass licked at him like the driest of cat tongues. With one last backward glance, to assure himself the hill would hide him if he stood, Xavier rose to his feet and ran.

  His feet moved quickly and his body struggled to keep up with them and stay upright rather than roll to the bottom, but he made it, and without feeling anything more than rocks under his bare feet and grass against his ankles. As one particularly sharp stone pressed against the sole of his foot he half-smiled at the knowledge Scholar's adaptations to make his skin tougher were aiding in his escape from captivity.

  He stumbled toward the swamp, looking fearfully over his

  shoulder every few steps. Entering the ankle-deep water at the edge, he thrust bog plants out of his way with arms and tentacles both, and ran as torches began to flicker in the windows of the castle.

  Shortly he reached a thicket. The size of the trees spoke to

  their age; they towered above the murky water and their branches were draped with vines and moss. They stuck knobby knees above the surface to keep from rotting, and their roots spread out beneath to trip the unwary. Xavier stumbled over something obscured by water, and fell to his knees.

  Pain shot through him, emanating up and out from his left knee as it impacted a stone underwater. Smothering a cry, he struggled to his feet and lurched ahead. He kept going even when the water rose to meet his waist.

  He ran until dawn touched the sky, coloring it a pale shade of grey where it met the horizon. Blinking and squinting in the dim light, he emerged from beneath the treetops. Weaving around

  partially submerged boulders, he made his way to a small patch of earth which jutted up out of the water. Stumbling over his own feet, he fell to the ground, looked one last time over his shoulder and collapsed. His eyes closed, his tentacles stopped moving and as the sun crept over the horizon he succumbed to exhaustion.

  "Drek."

  - 78 -

  Aphanasian Stories

  ~*~

  As the sun peered over the edge of the world Colby tucked the tarp that had served as her tent back into her pack. After pulling the laces tight, she squatted down to slip her arms through the straps and then rose to her feet and started back toward the road. Damp, cold and hungry she had slept poorly and started packing up camp long before dawn. The sooner she found the stone and took it back to her brother, the sooner she could eat real food and sleep in a soft bed again.

  It had been a long night. There had been a rainstorm the

  afternoon before and even though it had blown over in less than an hour, Colby had failed to find any dry wood in its wake. She'd searched through the magical scrolls she'd brought with her but found nothing that could help, so her fire, if such a weak flame could rightly be called that, sputtered and smoked all night. It threw off very little heat and since it couldn't be used for cooking, supper had been dry rations. They tasted like leather, but they would provide all the sustenance she'd need on her trip.

  After a great deal of walking the road she was following

  vanished into the swamp. The plains ended so abruptly that it disconcerted her – it was almost like the bog had been dropped into place by a god. She looked over it and felt the first hints of despair.

  The watery wasteland was so vast she knew it was going to be an enormous challenge to find the Reptar, even with her map.

  The everglade stretched for miles in front of her. The stagnant water was only ankle high here at the edge but no doubt got deeper further in. Bog plants and gnarly trees emerged from its muddy depths, breaking up the stark landscape. The sound of insect swarms assaulted her ears and from somewhere far off a bird called out. It was a lonely land, devoid of joy or laughter and reeking of death.

  Colby sighed, adjusted her backpack and gnawed on her lower

  lip. Far off to the east she could barely make out what looked like a castle built high up on a hill. If the swamp could be home to a castle, she thought, that meant it was inhabited, so a chance of success existed after all.

  "I can do this," she told herself, her voice wavering.

  Straightening her shoulders she nodded, "I can do this."

  Searching out the highest ground, Colby took a step in. As she walked the earth squelched beneath her boots and gave way slightly

  - 79 -

  Rhonda Parrish

  under her weight. It was like walking on a firm sponge; each step she took made indentations in the sodden ground that quickly filled with putrid fluid.

  A couple hours later she stepped into a small clearing and saw, splayed across a boulder there, the body of a creature the likes of which she'd never seen before. He, for there was no question about his gender, resembled a man but had reptilian-looking skin; mottled and green. Horns, like a ram's curved from the top of his head and in addition to a pair of arms, two sets of menacing tentacles sprouted from his shoulders and hung limply at his sides. It wore a pair of tattered breeches but his bare torso revealed well-defined muscles.

  She took a step back, away from him, and he raised his head to look at her. Silvery eyes pinned her in place.

  "Please…. Don't go...," he whispered through chapped lips.

  His voice sounded like sandpaper, rough and ragged.

  Colby paused and tilted her head to one side, watching.

  Dozens of scars marked the bits of his chest and back that she could see – even his arms and tentacles were marred. Many looked old, but one wound upon his chest still bore a dirty bandage.

  Though he was frightening to look at, he didn't seem to be

  dangerous. In fact, he looked as though just keeping his eyes open was an extreme test of will. Still, she hesitated to step forward.

  "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

  "Please...don't go," he whispered again, then closed his eyes and entered the world of unconsciousness.

  Colby stared at him. "What in the nine Hells am I supposed to do now?" she thought. Though she didn't recognize his race, he seemed intelligent and in need of assistance, but she had little time to spare – and how could she know that once he recovered he wouldn't eat her or introduce her to some other, equally horrific fate? Yet, she couldn't just leave him lying there in the middle of a swamp full of p
redators.

  Colby chewed on her lip, and watched the steady rise and fall of his back. His breathing seemed strong enough, but the bandage she'd glimpsed on his chest indicated unseen injuries. How would Bayne feel if he heard she'd left someone here to die because she was in a hurry to get the stone that might save him? She didn't know if he could live with the guilt, but she certainly couldn't. Yet, how could she deal with it if her brother died because she stopped to aid a stranger?

  - 80 -

  Aphanasian Stories

  "Drek," she swore under her breath.

  She slid her pack off her shoulders, set it down beside the

  tentacled stranger and rested her hand upon his shoulder. His skin felt smooth and feverishly hot. He stirred slightly, but did not wake.

  Nevertheless she spoke to him, hoping his sleeping mind would absorb at least part of what she said.

  "I'll be back, I'm just going to find shelter."

  Looking over her shoulder at the being and all her supplies,

  she hesitated once more then turned and ran further into the morass.

  She splashed through the bog, sticking to high ground

  whenever possible and moving at a steady pace. Her sharp eyes scanned the territory in front of her as she ran, marking the trunks of the sparse vegetation with chalk so she could find her way back.

  After only a quarter of an hour of searching, the gods blessed her and she discovered a cave. A quick scan of the interior showed it to be small, but abandoned. It wouldn't be the soft bed she'd been craving, but it would provide shelter for her and the injured being.

  On her way back to the slumbering stranger, Colby gathered

  sticks, and several slimy vines. Rolling them into a ball she carefully retraced her steps.

  He still slept. In fact, it didn't look as though he'd moved the whole time she'd been gone. Kneeling in the mud, Colby worked quickly. Using her tarp, along with the sticks and vines she'd gathered she managed to fashion a stretcher. The bottom end would have to drag on the ground, but she could think of no other way to transport the injured creature and her pack to the cave by herself.