I awoke early, as the central fire was rising over the distant horizon of the plains. I dressed and left my wagon, eating my morning meal by the small campfire within the circle of my wagons.
From my stock of kaiila I selected my most beautiful and vicious stallion. I took care in securing the saddle and harness. I think the beast understood the solemn nature of this mornings events. He was aggitated, but restrained himself as only an animal could do.
I looped a set of bola on the saddle horn. I checked the brace of quiva. And I secured a full quiva of arrows to the saddle, along with my finest bow.
The helmet was placed upon my head, the chain of colored rings hanging over my face. With lance in one hand and the black laquered shield in the other, I set out from the harigga. Many watched as I rode through the lanes, pointing and whispering among themselves. I took no offense, of course. I imagine it must be an unsettling sight to see a man, a haruspex, dressed for war riding towards the open plains.
I think even the bosk could hear the beat my soul was pounding out. It pounded and wailed and the drum was my heart. The herds parted to allow me through and I could hear their mournful bleating echo in my ears. I was in no great hurry at this point in my journey. The kaiila trotted at a brisk pace and had it not been for the screen of mail chains, the breeze might have been comforting.
I'm not sure how long I rode. Time seemed to lose meaning in that moment. Bend and warp. It became a malleable thing for me. When I drew back on the reins and looked about, searching for my bearings, I could no longer see the harigga. I could no longer see the bosk. There was only the grass and the sky. And in any direction I looked, the two merged in the horizon. A place I could ride towards for another hundred years. A destination I would never actually reach.
It was here, upon a piece of land that might have been trodden many times over, or may have never known the presence of a man, that I let go of the reins and raised my arms. In my right hand was the lance, gripped so tightly that my knuckles were nearly white. On my left arm the sheild. They were thrust towards the sky, shaking and stabbing at the blue canvas overhead. I felt my head tip back, as if unable to remain upright under the weight of the helmet. And as I peered through the circular holes in the veil of chains I felt a stirring inside me. My lips parted and a heard a scream fill my ears. I scarcely realized that the voice I heard in my ears was my own. I don't think it was until my throat felt raw and my lungs began to burn that I became aware of the sound coming from my mouth.
At some point my eyes closed. I don't know when. It may have been as soon as I began to scream, but I can't be sure. I'm not even sure how long they were closed. But when I opened them I had stopped screaming. My throat still ached and I was breathing a bit faster, as my body attempted to compensate for the prolonged lack of air. And when I regarded the Sky once more, I saw it.
Above me and out in front there was a looming black cloud. The only one in a sea of blue more vast than the Thassa. It looked angry and threatening as it hung there, alone. Its gloom had even chased away the lighter, white clouds to the farther reaches of Sky.
As I watched this cloud, my cloud, it began to drift away from me. My body seemed to move before my mind to come to the conscious decision to do so. In my left hand I gathered the reins and I viciously buried the spurs into the flanks of my mount. The squeal is made was echoed by an angry cry of my own before he lurched forward and into a hard gallop. I screamed and yelled. I roared and bellowed. But the cloud seemed to be out distancing me. Vengefully, I stabbed the deadly end of my lance at the cloud in a futile attempt to injure it. Perhaps I thought I could make it lame and that way it wouldn't get away from me.
But it was futile. Vain. I spurred the kaiila until its flanks began to bleed. Its nostrils were flared, fangs bared as it thundered across the plains. We not beast and rider. I don't even think I was a man anymore. I yelled and screamed more like an animal. But the cloud was further and further away with each passing ihn.
At last, I stood up in the stirrups and heft the lance over my shoulder. Drawing back I flung it with all the strength in my arm at the cloud. It arced up and sailed through the air as if it had wings. Higher and further it climbed, until I could no longer see it. And just as I lost sight of the lance a ray of light pierced through that black cloud, blinding me with its brilliance. I had no choice but to lift my empty hand to sheild my eyes. But the light seemed to seep through my fingers, like water. Against the thin links of metal chain it glinted even brighter, forcing me to turn my head away. But the light persisted and I could feel moisture coming to my eyes now.
Despite the initial brilliance of the light I found that it was becoming tolerable. Even to the point that I could lower my arm. And then turn my head back towards the source and open my eyes. I could see nothing else but the light, though. It still stung my eyes, though, and I could feel the tears coursing down my cheeks.
Soon I became aware that the tears weren't a simple response of my eyes to the light. I could feel the trembling in my body as I cried. I felt my chest growing tighter as it became more difficult to breath. And some where in all this revelation I began to realize that the light was fading. It was withdrawing from me.
When the light dissipated it still took several more ihn for my eyes to adjust to the lack of brilliance. I can remember removing the helmet, balancing it on the saddle as I wept.
I wept for the loss of a warrior. A Tuchuk. But above all, I mourned the passing of a friend.
From my stock of kaiila I selected my most beautiful and vicious stallion. I took care in securing the saddle and harness. I think the beast understood the solemn nature of this mornings events. He was aggitated, but restrained himself as only an animal could do.
I looped a set of bola on the saddle horn. I checked the brace of quiva. And I secured a full quiva of arrows to the saddle, along with my finest bow.
The helmet was placed upon my head, the chain of colored rings hanging over my face. With lance in one hand and the black laquered shield in the other, I set out from the harigga. Many watched as I rode through the lanes, pointing and whispering among themselves. I took no offense, of course. I imagine it must be an unsettling sight to see a man, a haruspex, dressed for war riding towards the open plains.
I think even the bosk could hear the beat my soul was pounding out. It pounded and wailed and the drum was my heart. The herds parted to allow me through and I could hear their mournful bleating echo in my ears. I was in no great hurry at this point in my journey. The kaiila trotted at a brisk pace and had it not been for the screen of mail chains, the breeze might have been comforting.
I'm not sure how long I rode. Time seemed to lose meaning in that moment. Bend and warp. It became a malleable thing for me. When I drew back on the reins and looked about, searching for my bearings, I could no longer see the harigga. I could no longer see the bosk. There was only the grass and the sky. And in any direction I looked, the two merged in the horizon. A place I could ride towards for another hundred years. A destination I would never actually reach.
It was here, upon a piece of land that might have been trodden many times over, or may have never known the presence of a man, that I let go of the reins and raised my arms. In my right hand was the lance, gripped so tightly that my knuckles were nearly white. On my left arm the sheild. They were thrust towards the sky, shaking and stabbing at the blue canvas overhead. I felt my head tip back, as if unable to remain upright under the weight of the helmet. And as I peered through the circular holes in the veil of chains I felt a stirring inside me. My lips parted and a heard a scream fill my ears. I scarcely realized that the voice I heard in my ears was my own. I don't think it was until my throat felt raw and my lungs began to burn that I became aware of the sound coming from my mouth.
At some point my eyes closed. I don't know when. It may have been as soon as I began to scream, but I can't be sure. I'm not even sure how long they were closed. But when I opened them I had stopped screaming. My throat still ached and I was breathing a bit faster, as my body attempted to compensate for the prolonged lack of air. And when I regarded the Sky once more, I saw it.
Above me and out in front there was a looming black cloud. The only one in a sea of blue more vast than the Thassa. It looked angry and threatening as it hung there, alone. Its gloom had even chased away the lighter, white clouds to the farther reaches of Sky.
As I watched this cloud, my cloud, it began to drift away from me. My body seemed to move before my mind to come to the conscious decision to do so. In my left hand I gathered the reins and I viciously buried the spurs into the flanks of my mount. The squeal is made was echoed by an angry cry of my own before he lurched forward and into a hard gallop. I screamed and yelled. I roared and bellowed. But the cloud seemed to be out distancing me. Vengefully, I stabbed the deadly end of my lance at the cloud in a futile attempt to injure it. Perhaps I thought I could make it lame and that way it wouldn't get away from me.
But it was futile. Vain. I spurred the kaiila until its flanks began to bleed. Its nostrils were flared, fangs bared as it thundered across the plains. We not beast and rider. I don't even think I was a man anymore. I yelled and screamed more like an animal. But the cloud was further and further away with each passing ihn.
At last, I stood up in the stirrups and heft the lance over my shoulder. Drawing back I flung it with all the strength in my arm at the cloud. It arced up and sailed through the air as if it had wings. Higher and further it climbed, until I could no longer see it. And just as I lost sight of the lance a ray of light pierced through that black cloud, blinding me with its brilliance. I had no choice but to lift my empty hand to sheild my eyes. But the light seemed to seep through my fingers, like water. Against the thin links of metal chain it glinted even brighter, forcing me to turn my head away. But the light persisted and I could feel moisture coming to my eyes now.
Despite the initial brilliance of the light I found that it was becoming tolerable. Even to the point that I could lower my arm. And then turn my head back towards the source and open my eyes. I could see nothing else but the light, though. It still stung my eyes, though, and I could feel the tears coursing down my cheeks.
Soon I became aware that the tears weren't a simple response of my eyes to the light. I could feel the trembling in my body as I cried. I felt my chest growing tighter as it became more difficult to breath. And some where in all this revelation I began to realize that the light was fading. It was withdrawing from me.
When the light dissipated it still took several more ihn for my eyes to adjust to the lack of brilliance. I can remember removing the helmet, balancing it on the saddle as I wept.
I wept for the loss of a warrior. A Tuchuk. But above all, I mourned the passing of a friend.
I'm not sure if anyone before me has been aware of when they shed their final tear. But I felt it, as it rolled down my furrowed cheek. I heard it when it plummeted from the edge of my face and landed on my helmet. And I felt at peace.
When I looked up at the Sky once more, it was clear and pristine. And I also saw that the central fire was hanging directly overhead. It had barely been a fraction above the horizon when I left the harigga. The reins were still twisted up in my left hand and I pulled on them to direct the kaiila back. In which direction I should head, I didn't know. In truth, it didn't really matter.
It was growing dark when I saw the harigga and the bosk once more. But neither I nor the kaiila seemed to have the energy to increase our pace. We simply walked.
As I came through the heard, and began to wind through the wagon lanes to find my own, I found myself considering the day.
Not all prayer is done on a man's knees or spoken with words. I have bid my farewells to Lazlo.
When I looked up at the Sky once more, it was clear and pristine. And I also saw that the central fire was hanging directly overhead. It had barely been a fraction above the horizon when I left the harigga. The reins were still twisted up in my left hand and I pulled on them to direct the kaiila back. In which direction I should head, I didn't know. In truth, it didn't really matter.
It was growing dark when I saw the harigga and the bosk once more. But neither I nor the kaiila seemed to have the energy to increase our pace. We simply walked.
As I came through the heard, and began to wind through the wagon lanes to find my own, I found myself considering the day.
Not all prayer is done on a man's knees or spoken with words. I have bid my farewells to Lazlo.
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