by Stephan Knox
DELTA-SEVEN LAB BUNKER IN BRIKA – a lab station said to be conditioning strong willed men to fight for the Skaddary.
HOROZOH – the city of water was also the city that manned the working hydro power station that supplied almost all of Maegray’s power needs. A shanty city but powerful at the same time.
JAZIRIAN CAPITAL – set on top the Pira Mountains, within Central Valley
PIRA MOUNTAINS – striated scars of rock that were forced up in the cataclysm of the pole shift. Now the city that once dwelled on low lying plains was 10, 000 feet in the air. Attacking Jazirian capital was impossible.
PLARDAH – North-east City ruled by DAMONTAX
QUINENSET – Trader Post Village on the very northern edge of Maegrethe’s territory.
SANDURI – South-West City ruled by MARTHIM
SUB-TERRAIN STATION EPIC9 – An underground source of crystals that both generate power and can store information like the old-world computers.
TEHRAN – North city ruled by SCOX
THE SKADDARY MILITIA BASE – The design and layout of the base was ideally functional for the Skaddary Militia since the base had served as an air raid base before the changes.
LANGUAGE
Curse words, phrases, slang, measurements and fictitious words
ACRE-BREADTH – the equivalence of one side of a squared acre width, rounds down to 66 feet or 22 yards.
AFTNOON – time of day after high noon until evening.
AMERICLISH – American English.
AMOOZ MEANTS PARKS – a mispronounced word. One of the old-world words that has long since lost its meaning, as well as its proper pronunciation. Actual word: Amusement Parks.
BAGGER – A survivor with a few worthy skills or trades.
CUBIT – 18 inches.
DAWG – a mispronounced word from the old-world language. Actual word: ‘Dog’.
DRENN – present day curse word.
FATHOM – 6 feet.
FIRKIN – a quarter of a barrel of fermented drink
FRANCHEY – a remnant of the old French language.
FORENOON – time of day just before high sun.
FURLONGS – is a measure of distance in imperial units and U.S. customary units equal to one-eighth of a mile, equivalent to 220yards, 660feet, 40rods, or 10chains.
HAND – 4 inches.
HELLA-COPPER – a mispronounced word, to which its meaning and usage has been lost save for a few fables and books. Actual words Helicopters.
HERETIANS – a slang that formulated that referred to any society of tribe of survivors deemed as heretics. Often used against those who befriended the Symbiotai and their human hosts.
HIGHNOON – time of day when the sun is at its highest.
LEAGUE – between 2.4 and 4.6 miles.
MARINWORDS – the mix of words, dialect and slang, most of it was English but had strange words for some of the same things but no one else knew, yet it held tight because of all the things the sea washed ashore. Making everyone who used it think there had once been humans who lived under the oceans and Marinwords was the remnants of their language.
METER – the equivalent of a yard.
MIIJIMAA – (historically) Mi’kmaq Lnu’k word meaning the brother(s)/ally(ies) with the prefix m; as opposed to Niijimaa, meaning my brother(s)/comrade(s). Used here as reference to the Laymask Tribe in relation to Tannin’s tribe.
MILE – a measurement of horizontal distance equal to 8 furlongs.
NAIL – 2 1/4 inches.
NIIJIMAA – (historically) Mi’kmaq Lnu’k word meaning my brother(s)/Comrades as opposed to Miijimaa, meaning the brothers/ally(ies). Used here as my brethren by Tannin’s tribe.
NÍKMAQ – (historically) the Lnu’k used the word, meaning –my kin-, as a greeting. And is used as a greeting to kin or brethren by Tannin’s tribe
RULER – an old-world stick containing 12 numbers that was used to measure things, 1 ruler equaled one length of the stick.
SCION MV4 FLY-A-BOUTS – A military aircraft that had rotating jets that enabled it to hover as well as fly horizontal and vertical, and it had a large cargo area.
SHAY MOSHTER – a mispronounced word, to which its meaning and usage had been lost save for a few fables and books. Actual words: Sea Monster.
SLOOP – a ditch or trench, usually located on the edge of a city, were refuse, bodily waste, and garbage is dumped as a mean to try to keep the city or village streets from getting littered with it.
SOLAR CYCLE or CYCLE OF THE SEASONS – the equivalent of one calendar year, when just said as a cycle is most often referring to a full year of the seasons.
SPADONE – a sword of its own class that was of such a length and weighty enough to demand a double grip. Considered strictly as an Infantry sword, the longsword is characterized not so much by a longer blade, but by a longer grip, which indicates a weapon designed for two-handed use, having an oval shaped grip rather than rounded with a cruciform hilt and a straight double-edged blade of around 90 to 110 cm. The blade of the longsword is straight and double-edged. Over time, the blades of longswords became slightly longer, thicker in cross-section, less wide, and considerably more pointed. This design change is largely attributed to the use of plate armour as an effective defense, more or less nullifying the ability of a sword cut to break through the armour system. Instead of cutting, long swords were then used more to thrust against opponents in plate armour, requiring a more acute point and a more rigid blade. However, the cutting capability of the longsword was never entirely removed, as in some later rapiers, but was supplanted in importance by thrusting capability.
SPAN - a unit of distance equal to a hand spread or nine inches.
SPANGLISH – a mixed language of Spanish and English, also sometimes called Meximercan which only changed some words but not all.
SYMMAPI – the language of the Symbiotai and the priest followers of Destiny.
TELAHVEESAHNS – a mispronounced word. One of the old-world words that has long since lost its meaning, as well as its proper pronunciation. Actual word: Televisions.
TUAREG – a turban with enough material to cover the face and protect it from the sand and wind. Called the tuareg after the Tuareg Nomadic Tribes who wore them and brought the common head gear when they traveled into the area after Terra’s poles flipped.
PROLOGUE
Stjepan woke with a start, glancing about seeing only darkness and the remnants of his dream— nightmarish visions that were about to come to pass. He shook his head to rid them.
If only they could be dismissed as just fitful dreams.
Such wishful thinking that had no place in his world— not yet, and perhaps, not for some time to come could people trust in hope. He could not say for sure, for he could not truly see that far into the future. But the visions he did see, he knew he could not take lightly or repudiate; even the stammer of his heart, pounding— piercing in alarm, or the sym that sent out shockwaves of emotional distress from his spine— he felt these things in all truth of what he saw, and he knew they were not idle visions.
He swiped the sweat from his brow, then rolled to his side, looking over to the woman sleeping on the cot across from him. There wasn’t much time, and she would have to choose which hell she would suffer.
He hated his gift more so now then he had ever hated it. Why could he not see an escape? A happy ending for one so beautiful and gifted as she.
He moved his attention to the world beyond the window, glancing out into the grey and yellow hues that swathed the sky.
As far as the eye can see.
He tempted those limits— pushing to see beyond— to see the temple— see if little Aari was okay. By Destiny, she had been so tiny. How they had all feared she and her new Symbiotai would parish; neither, big enough nor strong enough to forgo the ritual of binding, but necessary. It only revealed more of the mysteries of destiny that against all odds, the two had survived the first, and most ris
ky part of the binding. He knew this, not because of vision, but because despite all warnings that it was time for he and Therilan to take their leave from the temple, Therilan wouldn’t. At the risk of her own future, she insisted in holding off until little Aari had woken up. She would not leave her little sister without saying goodbye or reassure herself that the gift the new symbiotic life force would give its gift to keep Aari safe.
Since that time, he and Therilan had been traveling for months, barely able to stay ahead of the seers that served Lord Maegrethe. Now, it seemed they had run out of running space.
Quiet as a mouse so not to disturb her, he pushed up from his cot and walked over to the doorway, which, like the rest of the structure it was a part of, kiltered to one side. Long in its demise, as all things must, it would one day very soon collapse. Today— in this fleeting moment, it stood as a symbol of his and Therilan’s life, a stronghold— a threshold— now weakened and on the verge of ruin. Of forced prostration.
He rested his hand on the jamb, stopping to stare at it a moment— prolonging the inevitable.
He didn’t want to, but he knew he had to. They were on the run— he had to look every day. Specifically, for Therilan.
Gathering his resolve, he took a deep breath, and then finally looked out into the flat, barren wasteland that surrounded them just as the sun began to break over the distant horizon.
As far as the eye can see.
And yet, Stjepan saw further than he actually cared to. Two roads ahead of them, both filled with horrors— enemies encroaching on both. Two futures— one short and quick, the other stretched out over years.
He broke his tearing eyes from the distance and glanced down at the fragile woman still sleeping. She’d grown thin with the cycles of little food, yet she never complained. He would have done so for her, but he remained strong for her. But while she slept he took these brief moments to let the upheaval of emotions take him. “I have l-loved you—” his whispered voice cracked, making it nearly impossible to get the words out, “since the moment we first met. And I will stay with you through whatever hell you have to endure. My only regret— is I will one day watch you die.” His lips now quivered out of control as tears and snot ran freely down his face. So much pain to bear, none of which was his destiny, but he would endure it all the same at her side, so she was never be alone in it.
He swiped his face clean with the sleeve of his tunic then pushed away from the door turning his back on the two choices that were not his to make and went to her, kneeling beside her. He rested his hand on her shoulder and nothing more.
A mop of curls stirred then rolled over, falling from her face as she woke to glance up at him. Her weary eyes blinked, revealing that her sleep had not been nearly as blissful as he would have wished for her. Instead, they spoke silently of the exhaustion she would never complain of or admit that her mind was just as bereft as his.
“You must make a choice,” he spoke softly. He tried to shake his head, and he rolled his lips to shut, not wanting to say what he must. “It’s not going to be an easy choice.
Therilan didn’t ask questions of such none sense like, ‘is it bad?’. It was always bad.
She nodded silently and pushed to sit up, then, as she always did, gave comfort to his fragmenting will, and she offered her hands to his.
He glanced down at them— so small. He studied them and the harsh story they told. Her nails were lined with black caused by the dirt that caked under them as they had not found a water source that afforded them anything beyond drinking for some time. The white moons around the cuticles were just one more sign of malnutrition. Her fingertips callused from digging up tubers and roots for food when he could find no game.
He held them, his thumbs grazing over her skin as though they were still as eloquent as silk and he allowed himself one last moment to be lost in the touch with her. He struggled against the welling of emotions, sequestering them so they didn’t surface as he lowered to kiss each of them. The very act that shattered his heart. This would be their last. He then surrendered a cheek to her hands and remained there as a single tear managed to get away from his control. Even the sym, he hosted in his own body, wept.
Refusing to be beaten, Therilan’s strength succeeded his, and he felt her kiss to his head.
“I’m ready,” she whispered.
Stephan Knox [pronounced: stef-fahn kuh-nokz] is a relocated Nova Scotian who now lives in the sunshine state of the US where he spends most of his time writing out on the beach and tending to his accidental vegetable garden. He’s always been known to create vividly wild stores since he was a kid without any desires to publish. Now, after retiring from the concert industry, his longtime affair of writing as a favorite pastime has now become a new profession.
Being a Native American Siksika of mix-blood (mixed culture as well), it was inevitable that everything else in his design would turn out to be a mix-bag of hosh-posh influences thrown into a life time of nerdy-love for the studies into ancient cultures and religions. From his Indian heritage and Mariners family history, to his own non-conformist self-expressions of gothic punk and natural science, plus a little bit of everything he’s ever explored and sampled, always managing to avoid falling into any form of stereotypical writing definitions. It’s no wonder, when it comes to his writing, he’s a rule breaker. Even when it comes to his two favorite genres: Post-Apocalyptic Dark Fantasy and Historical Fantasy. He writes the stories he’d long since scoured the bookshelves hoping to find that spectacular read for— the kind that require a backpack and a cozy pillow to reach the ending.
But in the end, oh the places we will go.
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