The Oak, The Dragon, & Other, Off-Kilter Tales
JA Laflin
Smashwords Edition
Copyright JA Laflin 2010
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Table of Contents
Jack and Jill
The Oak and the Dragon
Eyes on the Sun
Moment in Time
My Pet
Ulrich
Jeru
The World Lay Still
Jack and Jill
Jack was envious of Jill. Of course, their parents and all the neighbors assumed the two children loved each other dearly, but it just wasn’t as simple as that. Each day, the two of them would walk home from the old school, passing by the gingerbread house, and through the woods. Each time, Jack’s bitterness grew.
Jill always seemed so cheerful and hopeful, but after time, that began to get on Jack’s nerves. Everyone always said that Jill was the better of the two. The kinder, the most personable. He wanted to prove them wrong, but the truth was, he couldn’t. What could he do?
One sunny afternoon, “Let’s go to the well.” Jill’s lively voice entered Jack’s ears.
Jack shuddered inwardly, “Alright.” he agreed, having perfected feigning sincerity.
They began their trek into the woods, and soon the sun began to disappear. They walked and walked as the woods grew darker, yet all the while Jill smiled and led the way. She let her old tin pail swing carelessly beside her as though nothing could disturb her.
This could be your chance, A voice inside Jack’s mind told himself, sneering at his sister’s cheerfulness.
Chance for what? He asked.
To finally be rid of her... To finish her off.
Are you crazy? He asked, surprised at himself.
What if I am?
A girl in a red cloak sped past them, heading down the left fork in the road. Jack laughed as he watched a wolf in old ladies’ clothing chasing after her. Jill stopped and watched as well, and then, as though it were nothing, she smiled and began walking again. Jack made note of that.
Was Jill brain damaged or something? Could she not see what was happening there? Or did she just choose not to get involved? Jack knew very well what was happening, yet the sight was so amusing that he let it go, but not without laughing first. Perhaps he was calloused that way, in a way that Jill hadn’t been, but he couldn’t see why. She’d grown up the same as him, with their pummeler of a father and a mother who looked the other way. Jack knew all too well what had gone on since they were young, and he hated that Jill remained happy…
Onward they went, deeper into the woods, the sun only visible in stifled rays seeping through the upper canopy of oak and sycamore. They stepped past an ancient castle overrun with vines and foliage. In one of the upper windows, there was a rose glowing beneath a glass covering. Past a towering beanstalk; it stretched to heaven and was huge in width. Jack and Jill continued walking past it; Jill hardly seemed to take notice. She continued to swing her pail happily. Jack had long grown annoyed at that as well.
This may be your chance... The voice returned.
You again? Jack yelled at himself.
Are you going to listen to me now?
How could I do it? Jack asked himself, surprised at his own question.
Easy, on the hill—it’ll look like an accident.
Maybe those midgets… Er, I mean—little people—back there, the ones carrying the dead chick, maybe they’ll help me... Jack tried to misconstrue the conversation.
The hill, Jack, the hill.
Jack found himself sweating now, and they neared a clearing. The forest had opened up into a green meadow which rose steadily, covered in brilliant poppies of all colors and large sunflowers which swayed in the gentle breeze. Jill walked ahead, unaware of anything. Jack’s eyes spun in all directions, looking for witnesses. His palms were soaking as the children began to ascend the tall hill which grew before them. Leaves and limbs cleared above as a beautiful blue sky greeted them, the sun like a friendly face from the past returning to remind the boy of all that was good. Jack cleared his throat and paused. Jill was already at the top of the steep, grassy mound. He slowly followed her.
Jill finally reached the well. It was a small stone platform with a brick circle in the center. She leaned over the mouth of the well, peering deep into the blackness, squinting to see after having been in the sunlight. She turned, feeling Jack’s hand on her shoulder.
“I… I’m sorry, sister...” Jack said, his voice trembling as his grip tightened.
Jill gasped suddenly and Jack began to push her foreword. Jack’s motion was unsteady, as if he felt some horrible obligation.
“What are you doing?” Jill screamed, surprise overtaking her as she clutched the stone bricks with her shoes.
“I’m sorry...” Jack apologized again, his force growing violent.
Jill grabbed onto the bricks with both hands, and slipped out from under Jack. He spun around to snag her skirt and she tumbled to the platform. “Jack!” Jill yelled in her confusion, trying to stand. “If this is a game, I don’t like it.” There was no misinterpreting the fear in her voice.
Jack had another idea. With a hand on her shoulder, he sped toward her, readying to push her down the hillside. Jill screamed, clutching Jack’s wrist and falling on her back. Jack’s eyes widened, realizing he no longer held her, and that he’d tripped over her ankle. He began to tumble down the hill.
“Jack!” Jill cried, fearing for him now; she ran after him.
Jack’s body finally came to a rough halt. Jill was almost there when she found herself stumbling as well. She screamed as she tumbled and tumbled; the green grass and glistening sun spinning around her like a whirlwind. Everything suddenly stopped.
Jack lay motionless. All was silent, except for the sweet rustling of a cool breeze. Jill’s bruised eyes slowly opened, and the sky seemed to shake before her. She exhaled suddenly, gasping for air.
The pail lay empty and lonely near the well.
The Oak and the Dragon
A small platoon of curious creatures marched through the wood, an Elf known as Nitewood led on as the party’s leader. He had always led by instinct and cunning, and was taller than most his Elven comrades. He had led his own country of Ternay into battle against those pretentious Dwarves and had helped to win their land and their country, but even now they all stood on the edge of a new conquest. Five other Elves, armed and ready in the same manner as Nitewood, followed behind their leader. Heading northeast through the thick foliage, they could scarcely discern the rough path before them. Their mission was a simple one: to scout out any new establishments that had been taking place at the border of their neighboring country Levin.
It was possible that the news they had received could have easily been a rumor, but it was in the deepest interest of both Ternay, and their ally Cherno, that they investigate these things. The last thing they needed was another fortification blocking them should they attempt to make war on Levin. Perhaps their mission here was simple, but their situation was not.
Nitewood motioned for the troop to stop. They were several miles from the Levini border, and although no one had said it, it was clear the others were confused at their leader’s action. Nitewood knew this, but didn’t care; he scanned the woods. The deep greens, yellows, and dark browns began to blend all into one. The sun was not quite yet in the sky and the forests remained fairly silent. Nitewood had almost disappeared into the stillness and darkness of the forest, his mind working intently. Something was watching them. He didn’t have to see it, but could sense it.
One of the soldiers, Ternius, couldn’t help but get his commander’s attention, pointing to the white figure standing before them. The creature, whatever it had been, vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. Nitewood looked back at Ternius somewhat annoyed. He glared at the troop.
“Was it a ghost?” Ternius wondered under his breath, shivering, despite knowing that even his commander could hear him.
“Tzalmoni.” Nitewood corrected him, looking out down the path in front of them.
The creature appeared before them once again, causing the small squad to take steps back, but then stop, they rested their hands on the hilts of their swords. The Tzalmoni was very man-like, having the same height as a man and the face and body of a man, but its blank, white eyes gave it away. Its cloak was also white, along with its hair. Nitewood threw it an intimidating glance, but it smiled disarmingly.
“This is bad luck, to see such a thing.” Ternius whispered.
“Name your business.” Nitewood yelled up at the Tzalmoni.
The creature stood as though in deep thought, then looked directly into Nitewood’s blue eyes. “This business is none of yours.” it stated simply. “If you turn away, you’ll be unharmed. I cannot guarantee such an offer to stand in the future.”
Nitewood lowered a brow. He would not be intimidated. “You are on Ternayan soil. I suggest you turn away.” he ordered, draw his blade and the others prepared to do the same. “We’ve no time for trifles such as this, so be gone!”
The Tzalmoni stood silently, smiling, and beside him another tall, man-like creature appeared in white. Another appeared on the other side of him, and yet another, until there stood more Tzalmoni than Elves. All the Tzalmoni stood with the same expression as the first, Nitewood seeing it only as mockery. This was some dark magic, and the Elf truthfully hated it. He had the nerve to fight them all. His fingers tightened harshly around the grip of his sword, his mind considering the options before him. He knew he must make a decision, and after all, the small Elven squadron was completely in his hands.
“Fall back. Stand ready.” Nitewood commanded his troop, turning to force them back.
As the Elves raced through the underbrush, dodging trees and spilling through the foliage, Nitewood heard a sound like rushing water swimming past their heads. The Tzalmoni streaked by them like white strokes on a painted canvas. Let it never be said that their cowardice had brought them to this decision, but if the stories were true, Nitewood realized they’d have no chance against the Tzalmoni. As they ran, Nitewood sensed something else; arrows were slicing through the air, and he held his shield up behind him, ordering the others to do the same. The forest here was thick, and the Elf’s only hope was to lose these horrid creatures.
After five minutes of retreating back through the wood, running along a half-buried horse trail parallel to the main road, and finding themselves almost in view of Ternay’s open plains and gentle woodlands, Nitewood finally stopped. The others in front of him had continued running, but he let them fly ahead. The exercise would do them good, but he had stopped to think. The Tzalmoni had retreated, or had given up. The rushing of wind, the feeling of being watched, the low whispering; it all had vanished. Nitewood knew they were now alone. He would have to report this to Innish, there was no fooling when it came to the Tzalmoni.
* * *
In Eastern Ternay, much of the capital city was under reconstruction. King Dunod and the rest of his newly arrived Elven subjects were adjusting many of the formerly Dwarf-built mud-daub and clay structures to accommodate Elven stature. But such was not the case in the great meeting halls or in the royal palace, where creatures of all sorts were often present for various matters. It was about mid-afternoon, and large squadrons of men scattered about the city as Nitewood and his confused troop entered back through the fortified gates.
In the privacy of King Dunod’s own chambers, the small meeting was held. Nitewood paced as he gave a detailed report to his king concerning the recent events. In their midst stood Innish Dorn, the minister of diplomacy for the commonwealth of Cherno, and the only human ever to see the Elven-king’s personal living space. Innish listened patiently, having to hunch over just a little, as this particular room was made for those of an Elven nature.
Innish was not a tall man, and rather young, most would say, to be in such an important position as he. He looked about the room, not utterly surprised at the things which lay about. He’d known many Elves throughout his days, and nothing here seemed too uncommon. The bed was large, for an Elf’s bed, and its sheets and pillows made of the finest silk found in the continent’s western mountains. The silk was said to be spun by Faeries. The cabinets, dressers, desks, and shElves were all sporting the king’s personal signet and crafted with great care from the earth and stone surrounding them.
The floor consisted of a shiny stone, unlike the floors found throughout the rest of the palace. The main palace was mostly above ground and had smoothly polished wood floors. But here, it was a stone that never seemed to stop shining. Everything seemed dimly lit by natural lanterns made from the heads of mushrooms. Of which, a few were placed about the room.
“I knew the moment I saw the creature that it was a Tzalmoni...” Nitewood continued.
“Tzalmoni? Are you quite sure?” Innish asked, suddenly waking from his observations.
“What else might it have been?” Nitewood replied, stopping and turning toward Innish and the king. “Knowing our chances of survival, we had to flee. But now it is of course evident that Tzalmoni are guarding the Levini border.”
“Tzalmoni...” Innish echoed in disbelief as he turned and began pacing suddenly. “...One wonders why they’ve not been seen in so long a time...” he thought aloud. “I began to wonder myself, if they weren’t simply a myth...”
“I could only hope they were a myth, but no.” Nitewood replied. “No, they’re quite real. And dangerous.”
“Then, why are they here? One asks.”
“If I may interject.” The Elven-king stepped foreword, his ancient hand gripping a curious cane.
“Of course your majesty.” Nitewood answered as he gave a small bow.
King Dunod was of normal Elven stature, but his countenance made him appear larger. His robes were purple and red, and flowed far past his feet, dragging behind him. His white hair also hung to the stone floor, and some of it hung in locks. Not unkempt, but delicately braided. His beardless face wrinkled in thought as he prepared his words.
“It has been nearly two hundred years since the Tzalmoni have been seen here.” the king sighed as his recollections began to take hold. “I was but a young Elf then, not fully grown to adulthood. As surely as there are Tzalmoni, as surely there will be trouble.”
“This is true your majesty.” Nitewood agreed.
The king swallowed. “There will be trouble between the kingdoms, as there always is when the Tzalmoni arise from their ancient exile” he added in his most serious tone.
“Surely this is a sign that Shai is near.” Innish said, not having thought through the seriousness of such a statement. “For it must be balanced, where there is one, you see the other…”
“Blast your Shai.” Nitewood cursed at Innish. “I saw the beasts… No one has ever seen Shai.”
“Hold your tongue!” Innish snapped, stirred by Nitewood’s irreverence and placing a hand on his sword.
“Silence!” King Dunod glared at them both. “Commander Nitewood be shamed for your blasphemy.”
Nitewood stood silent, unable to say anything, daring not to talk out of turn to the king.
“Minister Dorn, be mindful of your zeal.” the king continued, now looking at Innish.
“I apologize, your majesty.” Innish replied, still feeling insulted by the commander’s words. Perhaps he’d taken it too personally...
“Whatever this power be, it is not your business to blaspheme it, Commander.” the king looked back to Nitewood. “If your magic aids us in our mission against Levin, then I give my blessing.” the king said with a solemn expression as he placed a hand on Innish’s arm.
Innish smiled, not having expecting that. “Thank you your majesty.” Innish said, then stopped. He stood in thought for a moment, the silence somewhat awkward. “Having said such,” he continued. “I feel it’s best that we dispatch another squadron. This time to seek an old friend of mine, who perhaps has been given prophecy concerning our predicament.”
“Allow me to protest.” Nitewood began, but was stopped.
Innish ignored him. “Firstly, we must send word to Cherno that they should double their defenses, and your majesty,” he turned to the king’s somber face. “I would highly suggest that Ternay do the same.”
“It is highly agreeable.” the king replied.
“Nitewood, will you join me on a journey to Swernaub?” Innish asked, looking now at the frustrated Elf.
“Have I a choice? I would rather not.” Nitewood replied somewhat curtly. “But I know that we are one step closer to uncovering the mystery of the Tzalmoni’s appearance... Whether or not your ancient and diluted religion will save us, it doesn’t matter. I know that your friend will hold knowledge concerning the Tzalmoni. Perhaps helpful.”
“I will take that as a yes.”
* * *
Here the way became clearer and the wood thinned. It had been a good day’s journey, and Nitewood had suggested they take unmarked paths to avoid the various Dwarvin kingdoms which lay sporadically throughout the woodlands. Innish continued to contemplate the conversation from the night before, and was still aggravated over Nitewood’s contempt for his beliefs. But he knew they must work together in order to accomplish the task at hand.
It was not easy being a D’Tari, and as such, Innish knew that many would not understand his ways. He was a follower of the ways of Shai, the great one. Shai was not an easy concept to explain, and Innish was still relatively young in the D'Tari ways; he knew that this was a good enough reason to seek help from the few D'Tari which remained. One such person was the aged centaur known as TorVil.
The small squadron, led by Nitewood and Innish, consisting of six armed Elven soldiers, had finally come into a clearing. A green, hilly meadow now lay before them and they could see the large Swernaubi foothills in the distance, beyond the forests. Beyond that, further southeast, lay the mountains. There were hundreds of them, rising and rolling, creating ridges and tangles of white peaks in the distance. As Nitewood stopped, Innish nearly tripped over the Elf.
“Is this smart? To be out in the open?” Innish asked as Nitewood scanned the forests which lay at the other end of the open grassland.
“There’s someone watching us.” Nitewood replied, half-whispering.
The small troop froze where they stood, all slowly placing a hand on their swords. The land was so silent, almost suspiciously so. Innish had not been in many battles, but he knew that Nitewood was a decorated warrior. Not to mention that these others were highly skilled soldiers as well. The tension was building, but the enemy failed to appear.
Innish made to whisper something, but Nitewood stopped him.
“Wait for it...” the Elf cautioned.
Another moment passed as the evening sun began to slowly set over the trees, forcing the brilliant reds and yellows to blend into the shadows. Twilight had placed a purple haze over the meadow.
“Behind!” Nitewood warned, his soldiers spinning around only to see a charging Dwarf. “They’re all around.”
The Dwarf, taller and wider than the Elves, with a muscular upper body, sped toward two of the soldiers. They had quickly silenced him with their swords, but no sooner had that happened, when an entire platoon of the long-bearded creatures stood surrounding Innish and the Elves in the meadow. All was silent as the short, man-like creatures stood in surround with their double-edged blades and heavy battleaxes out and ready. Innish and the others held their shields in front of their bodies, expecting the worst.
“I see by your colors that you are Rheilian dwarves, what business have you by attacking us?” Nitewood said, addressing the Dwarf with Elven skulls hanging from his belt; this had shown the Elf who the leader was. “And really, sending one of your own soldiers to die...”
“When our countries are in good standing...” Innish added.
“We have no alliance with Elves.” The Dwarf leader grunted, almost with a laugh.
“But you have an alliance with the kingdom of men in Levin.” Innish stated, clutching his blade's hilt.
“You are not from Levin.” the Dwarf replied, looking to his own soldiers beside him.
“No, but I am from the commonwealth of Cherno, currently under jurisdiction of Levin.” Innish replied as confidently as he could.
The Dwarf stood in thought, grunting, and feeling his blade lightly with his callous fingers. “We do not recognize Cherno and we do not recognize you.” he growled. “We see you as a threat...” He suddenly laughed, looking to his comrades who wore similar grins. "Perhaps we can teach you a lesson, by making good use of your belongings in our trade."
Without warning, the Dwarves raced into the circle of Elves with weapons foreword. Innish braced himself as his sword bore the brunt of another blade, and although he knew the Dwarves were strong, he was surprised at the amount of power behind that first blow. The meadow was now filled with the clanging of sword on sword, and the cries of Elf against Dwarf. The Elves could certainly hold their own, to the Dwarves’ surprise. Many of the shorter creatures were amazingly swift-footed, racing beneath their Dwarvin opponents and slicing through their ankles. When the Dwarf would fall, they would land on an Elven blade.
Innish had no sooner buried his blade into one Dwarf’s chest that another hairy creature appeared before him. Innish blocked, falling back and thrusting forward with all his might. Nitewood, by now having already felled three Dwarves, found himself slashing through one leg after another, seeing how quickly his opponents were immobilized. The others were fighting quite well, taking down one Dwarf after another. A scream went out as an Elf fell to the grass, horribly wounded. Nitewood ran a Dwarf through and rushed to the aid of his comrade.
Innish could see the Dwarf leader approaching with eyes burning fiercely, but Innish had just now realized that his own shield was missing. The Dwarf rushed like a madman toward him. The blow wasn’t too much to bear at first, and Innish managed to push the Dwarf away in time. The enraged creature swung his massive axe again, this time with such force that Innish’s sword nearly slipped from his two-fisted grasp. Innish managed to hold on, following through, and bringing his blade back up. The blow was blocked and the Dwarf's axe caught Innish's sword, the creature heaved, wrenching the blade from Innish’s hands.
Innish prepared for the worst, backing away, disarmed and helpless. Suddenly the Dwarf screamed in pain and fell over his legs, dropping his axe. Nitewood stood there, now holding his own blade to the helpless enemy. He quickly ran the Dwarf leader through, and Innish retrieved his own sword, moving into the rest of the battle.
The fight was nearly finished, and all but one Elf remained. Their leader having been defeated, the two surviving Dwarves now ran back into the wood. A few of the Elves attempted to follow, but Nitewood held them back, setting an arrow on a string and pulling it taut. One of the Dwarves fell, the arrow thrust into his back, but for all his skill, Nitewood could not catch the other Dwarf in time. Finally, it was over.