Land of Salvania

  Another arrow thudded into Ritter's shield. "That one close," Orok called from the thick tree cover. He knew too well that his orcish mass was an easy target for Yunni archers. "This is all your fault," Ritter growled back. "You like orcs. I like orcs. Why little Yunni hate orcs?" An arrow whistled over Ritter's head and splintered on a pine tree. "Don't worry, Orok is safe." "They are not shooting at you," Ritter said, trying to hide his tender flesh behind his shield. "Hey, little Yunni," Orok called. "You go home and we go home too." "You know we're about to get surrounded," Ritter said. "You need to give it back." "But Orok like it." He patted the small clay figure he found on a stump by the river. It was painted blue. "Looks like mommy." "It's part of their shrine protecting the river," Ritter said. Another arrow landed in front of

  "You are too loud," Greenfoot whispered more than once as we traversed the endless forest. "Can you breathe less?" I suspected my little Yunni guide with elaborate, dyed hair would be happy enough if I stopped breathing permanently. But, So far, he had proven trustworthy, although I still sensed he was annoyed at being picked to guide me. The Yunni chief, a withered creature even smaller than my guide had insisted that his nephew Greenfoot lead me away from their hunting territory as expeditiously as possible. "Stop," Greenfoot hissed. "They are watching us." I stopped and knelt behind Greenfoot so I could hear him better. "Greetings," he called into the empty forest. "I am Greenfoot of the North Clan. I am taking my friend to the White River." "What is his business in Yunni lands?" The voice was close, but I still could not see the speaker. "He is lost and confused. You know the Big People cannot find

  The old man lit his pipe and blew an elaborate smoke ring. "So, you say you've seen a tree man." "Indeed, I have, sir," the small Yunni said. Even seated on a fallen log, the man was taller than the Yunni. "I have seen them too. Not near these parts, though." The man blew another ring and said, "I even spoke to one." "They speak?" "They do, but they prefer not to," the old man said. Then he smiled. "Old people are much the same, sometimes." The Yunni waited for him to go on, but the man seemed content to poke around his small campfire. They were in a forest clearing outside the man's cottage. His name was not a sure thing among the Yunni, so they called him the Hermit. He seemed to have lived in the same manner for decades, puttering around his cottage and tending a small garden. Finally, the Yunni said, "This tree man was walking and tapping on trees, almost like he was...well, it's silly.

  I was traveling through an unfamiliar part of Salvania, north and east of the White River Castle, seeking new herbs for my apothecary. Storm clouds were gathering, and distant thunder echoed over the swaying wheat stalks. I stabled my horse at a tavern and settled in for a night with the regulars. I sipped a leather jack of frothy ale, and listened to the chatter nearby. A group of obvious adventurers was drinking heavily near the fireplace. "I tell ya, I seen it myself," a scarred Dwarven man-at-arms said as he ran his dagger over a whetstone, his voice raised as if launching into a well-worn debate. "I was part of the Duke's timber crew before I got started in this line of...business." "Yes, yes. And the trees attacked the timber crew," a woman in a blue robe with matching eye coloring said with acid sarcasm, her many bracelets jingling as she waved away the idea. A small Yunni laughed as he continued to stitch a leather patch over a gash in

  "Follow Farsinger," the small Yunni shaman said, her bracelets jingling as she ladeled more stew into her guest's bowl. The raven heard her name and stirred from her nap on the pronounced bosom of a carved fertility totem. Farsinger looked at the guest, a human healer from the White River village, and cooed in Ravenspeech, "Yes, I know the way, friend Don-lee-sar." The healer nodded thanks to the large black bird. Then he turned to the Yunni. "You have seen the artifact yourself?" "I have," she replied. "They have no idea how important it is." Two weeks later, Farsinger landed on a thatched roof and squawked, "We are here." The healer waved greetings to a few dirty children who ran into a nearby cottage. He waited just a moment, and a woman came outside, wiping her hands on her apron. "Hello," he said with a friendly bow. The lady nodded without a reply. "My name is Donlisar. I am a healer traveli

  The little Yunni were tough traders. It seemed like part ritual and part sport for them. "Oi, you're killing me! I won't be able to feed my five babies," the Yunni tentmaker exclaimed with elaborate hand gestures. "Do you want them to starve?" Gar One-eye snorted. "Come on, Fal, they're trying to rob us." But neither man made a move to leave the negotiation. Both were sitting on low Yunni stools, their butts only two hands off the ground. The tentmaker was standing, and he barely matched the men's eye-level. "Look at this stitching," the Yunni declared, holding up a canvas seam and running a tiny finger along the edge. "Many nights I toiled by candlelight, my fingers aching, my stomach empty." Fal ran his own finger down the seam. "It gives credit to your skill, my friend. I can go up to nine, but no more." He held out nine silver pieces, then shook his purse to show it was empty. "Yes, nine i

  Tegan, a newly-minted bard from the Circle of Oak, awoke with the burning desire, no, the need , to be in the forest. He was trained to pay attention to these random urges, so he rose and left with only a pocket of walnuts and a leather flask of small beer. As he walked among the red oaks and pines, swaying with the distant sea breeze, he began to feel the Awen - the inspiration - come upon him. Shortly, he reached a bend in the trail where the light was just right and the wind fell still and the birds stopped to watch. He closed his eyes, and these words came to him... Wake, my dear! for the swaying trees, Stirr'd by the wind from off the seas, And Yunni songs so light and gay, Do bring us 'round to face the day. Wake, my dear! and you may see, Once more the sun so fair and free, And Yunni song floats high above, To warm your comely face my love. And that was it. The Awen departed like smoke, and the world went back to its own business. He opened his eyes, and a Yunni mai

  (From the series "Gerantus and Pall") The Yunni arrow was still quivering between Gerantus' feet. He dared not move or even blink. "I mean no harm," he called into the forest. "I live nearby." A crow somewhere above him called out, less strident than a moment earlier, a cross between a growl and a laugh. Gerantus heard a soft rustle to his left, and a Yunni appeared from behind a shrub that should have never been able to conceal him. Gerantus was shocked how close the Yunni had come even after he was on guard. The Yunni was small, about three feet high. He carried a bow that was at least four feet long. He had a quiver full of arrows, and one was already nocked. "You have disturbed my father's rest," the Yunni said, looking at the clay pots filled with bones. Gerantus looked at the pots and back at the Yunni. "I am sorry. My friend Pall said the owls told him about..." Gerantus nodded at the pots. "This. I came

  (From the series "Gerantus and Pall") Pall sunned himself on the high ramparts of the abandoned fortress he shared with Gerantus. On this day, Gerantus had braved the spiral of rotting stairs to take in the spectacular view of the lush valley below. "How's the sun?" Gerantus asked, a little breathless from the climb. The prospect of falling through a wooden slat didn't help his galloping heart. Pall opened one eye, his forked tongue tasting the Spring air filled with pollen and new foliage. "Delightful." He stretched one wing and shook off a loose scale the size of a saucer. Gerantus caught it. "Good one," he said to the red dragon as his artist's eye examined the scale. "I can carve this one into a wolf, I think." "Ah, speaking of 'treasure' that reminds me," Pall said, ribbing his human friend who, he had to admit, had a unique talent to turn his shed scales into art. "The owls say they have

The Yunni shaman looked up at the towering wizard. Even for one of the small folk, the shaman was tiny, his stature further reduced by an aged stoop. "Greetings, my friend. My name is Deep Lake." The wizard did not reply, but Deep could see he was agitated. Deep glanced at Leaf on the Water, the young Yunni hunter who had guided this unhappy giant to the village. "Leaf tells me you have need of us." The wizard's jaw muscle twitched as he ground his teeth. By the spirits of tree and river, what was causing his fury? "I have need of no Yunni-kind," he spat. "I would have provisions as mine were stolen since entering this evil land. And a guide to see me out of this cursed place." Deep nodded. Perhaps it was his pride that was singed. Indeed, how would a great and mighty wizard lose his provisions and his direction? Maybe he was not so mighty after all. "I see, my friend. I will be glad to help you." Deep whistled, and a

The little Yunni were all around the trader, some barely visible in the dense undergrowth, but all were armed with bows and wicked looking weapons. Some of the weapons looked too much like butchering tools. “Why are you in our hunting lands?” a larger Yunni, maybe as tall as his waist, demanded. The trader slowly sat on his wooden trunk and showed empty hands as a gesture of friendship. “I am a lost traveler, my friend. I did not know I was trespassing.” He heard movement behind him as well, and he was sure an arrow was pointed square at his back. “One does not just stumble into our lands while carrying such a heavy...” The larger Yunni rattled off a string of foreign words, and another Yunni answered. “Crate.” “Yes, well, my boat sank on the river near here. The rains swelled the river, sending us on a wild ride, and we broke on some rocks.” The Yunni chattered rapidly among themselves. “What is in this...crate?” the spokesman said. “Just a gift for my son.” It was not entirely

  "Why must I wear this?" Ulrich asked as the Yunni shaman handed him the bear skin headdress. "It has been part of the seeking ceremony for centuries. The first seeker saw it in a dream from the Star Bear," the shaman said, then he smiled. "And the faeries like it." The massive Northman, his hand big enough to almost encircle the tiny Yunni's head, put it on. "Ridiculous." "It is no different from the many images inked all over your body." Ulrich shrugged. "Maybe so. Now what?" The shaman leaned toward his fireplace and ladled out a steamy liquid into a wooden cup. "Drink this and lie down. The doorway will open when it wants. You must be patient." Ulrich swallowed the liquid. It tasted like simple beef broth, salty and mushroomy. He reclined on his back and stared at the cottage rafters hung with garlic and other drying herbs. "What if I go to sleep?" "Feel free," the shaman said.

“The green glamour is upon you now,” the Yunni shaman said. “Those with the inner sight may still be able to see you, so beware. The faeries of the forest will see you as easily as always, but few others will notice more than a shadow drifting at the corner of their eyes.” The healer felt somehow lighter. It was like he had removed a heavy pack basket he had been lugging up a mountain trail. “My skin feels...strange. Like it is tingling.” “Yes, the mushrooms in my potion do that sometimes. I find it quite pleasant.” The healer nodded. “So the effect will fade when I leave the forest?” “Yes. My power is modest.” The small Yunni smiled. Modest? The healer chuckled. Even the most haughty, bejeweled wizard visiting the queen’s court had never claimed they could make a man invisible. “This glamour will only fool the eyes. Ears and noses can sense you, so you could still find your way into a troll’s belly.” /// Copyright