Out of the Desert - Part I Midsummer, the year 1409 The Bedu boy tripped lightly through the sandy wastes that lay near his home camp. He was very late, and darkness was beginning to fall. He was to have been home hours ago, a fact that was sure to earn him a hiding from his mother. As he hurried across the sand, his feet slipping on the loose soil, a dark shadow fell across him, noticable even in the gathering gloom. With a gasp and gesture to ward off evil, he glanced up. The dread city floated slowly above, turning on its eternal circle. He had been warned by the tribal elders never to let the shadow of the evil city fall upon him. Their tales had been filled with the horrible consequences for those who stumbled into its path. He crouched down, cowering, and that was when he heard the low chanting. The sounds came from over a nearby rocky hill, and after a few moments the boy's curiousity overcame his fear. Flattening himself on the sand, a technique he had learned from his years in the desert, he crawled slowly on his belly up to the crest of the low hill. Peering over the top, the boy's mouth gaped at what he saw. Three women stood in a circle below, chanting in low tones, their arms and faces raised to the dark city above. They were completely naked, and their bodies were covered with strange, twisting tattoos. Their long black hair streamed out in the breeze, and the wind seemed to gather and increase as they chanted. As the boy watched, mesmerized, a white light began to glow in the center of the circle their bodies formed. The tattoos on the women's bodies began to writhe and move as the light bathed them. Their chanting continued undiminished, but they now swayed in unison, their bodies seemingly controlled by the serpentine tattoos. A soft shuffle in the sand behind him finally drew the boy's attention away from the women. He turned, and gasped when he saw the tall Shanari warrior behind him, the man's eyes covered by a black blindfold painted with a bright white eye. The boy's last sight was the Shanari's curved blade rising into the air and sweeping down with terrible swiftness. Brennan "Except for the boy in the belfry, He's crazy, he's throwing himself Down from the top of the tower. Like a hunchback in heaven He's ringing the bells in the church For the last half an hour" - Suzanne Vega "In Liverpool" ---------------------------------------------------------------- To unsubscribe, send mail to celandra-off@phoenyx.net.
