Vecnan

 




He had taken to roaming at night when the annoying clamor of the population's minds at last fell silent.

It would be different if their minds were more interesting. But, alas, no. They only cared for the moment, the perceived slights to their pride, the small revenges, the petty fears.

Even their nighttime dreams, now a breeze where their waking minds were a gale, were small and boring. Some wanted love, some fought faceless monsters. All typical and dull. Bovine.

"Let them be sheep," Vecnan purred in his mind. He looked at the jewel glowing faintly on the end of his staff. The star stone. Vecnan was the only one who understood him. Indeed, their bond was closer than any parent or lover.

The jewel seemed to pulse as the words came. "We will rule them all one day, and they will never even notice."






///



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Heroes and the Jabberwock

Image
  For a long time it was assumed that the fearsome jabberwock was at last slain by a single hero. One can blame the talented - and slightly bonkers (all the best ones are) - writer Lewis Carroll. In truth, there were two heroes with vorpal blades that sealed the creature's fate. None today remember their names or stations, though some of the ancient scrolls hint that one was a ferocious knight traveling the land and helping the downtrodden - his penance for some past sin. The other was called "a pox-scarred bard whose voice was the only beauty about him." Each hero took a tooth, not the entire monstrous head, from the jabberwock's steaming mouth as a keepsake. It was said that it took a team of mules to haul the prizes home. But, since all we have is our esteemed Mr. Carrol's poem, we must pretend to change "He" to "They." Then it reads right. Jabberwocky BY LEWIS CARROLL ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: ...
Read more

Secrets of the Old Forest

Image
  The guide turned back to Ritter and said, "We are entering the oldest part of the forest. Few come this way, and many of those who do are not seen again." It looked like a normal forest to Ritter, but he drew his sword out of caution. "Nay, good Sir," the guide said. "Your sword cannot protect you from the powers that inhabit this place." The old guide threw his cloak around his bony shoulders and moved cautiously down the trail. Ritter followed, his sword still unsheathed. They walked silently, slowly for a few minutes, and the air grew warmer, more oppressive. It was like the forest was watching them, and the gaze of the trees was pressing in on them. The guide stepped lightly to the left to avoid a small mushroom on the trail's right edge, and Ritter copied him. As he did, Ritter's sword lightly grazed the top of the mushroom. He said nothing, and continued following the old man. Moments later, the trail turned to bypass a huge tree, behi...
Read more

Queen of Wands

Image
  Ulrich sat in the Seeing Lady's wagon as she lit an oil lamp. The wagon was more like a small house, in truth. It was just big enough for two curtained rooms. The main room was her public space, it seemed, with silken hangings, a folding table, lamps, and too many pillows. When he glimpsed through a gap in the linen curtain, he could see her sleeping cot and two fluffy cats: one asleep and one staring at him without blinking. "Please to be comfortable," the Seeing Lady said, pointing to a three-legged stool topped by a white pillow with a swan embroidered in red. It was also covered in cat hair. The Seeing Lady wore an elaborate, silk and linen dress and head scarf favored by ladies in eastern Salvania. Her fingernails were painted bright red to match her lips. Her eyelids were painted green. She fell into that indeterminate age somewhere between too young and too old. It seemed like eastern ladies went to a lot of trouble painting themselves each day. They sho...
Read more