The man who summoned

The man who sent the note sat in an open caravan tent in the northern part of the village.  He watched the man desend from the Sand boat and smiled to himself.  Sand boat was amusing, he had seen a boat, no a ship, before.  When he went to the west he had visited the ocean town which had a ship like the one he watched the man disembark from.

     He stared at the four people walking into the middle of Raja.  In his minds eye he continued to plan his next move.  He believed that life was like chess, and that while novices only decided what to do as they saw the field, true masters looked far to the future, seeing every more their opponents might make.  He casually raised his left hand and waved slightly, giving the signal.  Ten men from four corners of the village charged at the strangers.     

Gathering

At a village a group of strangers came together.

     A woman with glorious gray hair and azure eyes rode on top of a great hound.  She came from a land where trees and hills dominated the land scape.  Her land was to the west of this desolated desert town.  She wore basic brown leather armor with small teeth from rodents sewn into patterns along her sleeves and leggings.

     From the North a man sailed in on his desert keel boat.  A boat he was proud of because it was the only one that existed, he had created it.  His black hair obscured his equally dark eyes, his weather-beaten copper skin spoke of the burning sun of his homeland, even hotter than the sands in which he now found himself.

     A six foot nine, three-hundred pound, bearded man strode in from the south.  His giant physique covered with overgrown hair made him look sweaty and dirty to the villagers, that stared rudely at him.    

     He wore his over large leathers, with the furs that kept him warm in the frozen lake lands tucked away in a crude knapsack slung over his shoulder.  He still refused to cut his waist length blonde hair and beard.  In his left hand he held a ten foot pole, he used this as a walking stick.  On the pole toward the top there were many different sharp looking antlers. His eyes looked over the crude village with a critical purple gaze.  

     The east brought the rarest beauty ever seen in those parts. A woman whose tiny figure seemed to make other ladies jealous. As she came abreast of the blonde giant, she barely came up to his chest.  Her fiery red hair was close cropped, revealing pointed ears.  She wore a tunic and tightly cinched knee-pants.  A cloak so black it shimmered hung from her shoulders, seeming floor length one moment, waist length the next.  On her shoulder road a large blue butterfly.  The body of the insect came down her back half way and its six legs held onto the side of her arm. 

     All of these people had a piece of paper in their possession.  On that paper was written, “Come to Raja, wealth and glory await.” One sought only riches, another could care less about money.  One sought the glory.  The last... she was there for revenge, so the note gave a good reason to travel so far. 

     There was only one problem.  Who sent the note?

Danulf

Danulf stood at the wheel of his ship.  The skies at the bottom of the ship glided effortlessly over the bright yellow sand of the northern desert.  He was at peace with his life and enjoying the morning. 

     The sun was not too hot and the sky a deep blue.  He looked up at the sky taking in everything he enjoyed.  A piece of parchment came down from the heavens hitting Danulf right on the nose.  It bounce off, his face, then rolled off the wheel, to drop down to the floor with a plunk sound.

     Danulf looked up once again to see where this parchment came from.  There was nothing to see.  He shrugged his shoulders took his hand off the wheel, bent down to get the parchment.  He unrolled it and read the contents of the message.  He then went back to the wheel of his ship changing coarse.

 

Dena

     Dena sat at her camp fire brooding.  She had a flask of very poor wine in her hand.  She had not drank a drop, she just stared into the moving flames.  Sleep took her away from her grief. 

     When Dena woke she found a parchment hanging over her head from a low tree branch.  She jumped to her feet grabbing her sword.  She scanned the meadow that she decided to sleep in, nothing was there.  Nobody. 

     Now she must have drank some of that wine for her to fall into a deep enough sleep for someone to approach her and the tree she slept under.  She sheathed her sword and untied the parchment.  Opening it she read it, then she jumped on her hound, Greenly.  This might be the lead that she was looking for all along. 

Mindy

     Mindy stood at a table of necklaces.  She was not looking at the necklaces but at her people standing around various booths.  What she saw discussed her.  Men lounging around in mechanical scooters, their bodies so tall and large from extra weight they could not walk on their own.

     Her blue butterfly flew down to perch on her shoulder.  She reached up to scratch her head.  She continued to gaze at men she was supposed to be attracted to.  How could she pick a mate from these unlikely unattractive men?  She had to since she was the leader of her people. 

     There was another problem.  She and her people were broke.  She needed money to hire someone to find out why her people were getting so big. 

     Opportunity was there reading Mindy’s thoughts.  Her gaze moved  to the table where a piece of parchment lay open.  She happened to read the contents that were obviously not for her.  When she understood the words she stole the parchment, slipping it under her cloak.

Garrick

     Garrick Thornbridge stood at the alter for his god, Kyp.  He stood there giving thanks for the successful campaign he had just completed.  This was a joyous day, the large bear that had been harming children would not harm any child again. 

     A tiny man half of Garrick’s six foot nine inch size came up from behind.  The man cleared his throat to get Garrick’s attention.  “I have this for you.”

     Garrick turned to see who had interrupted his prayer.  The tiny man held out a parchment.  Garrick took it, and then turned back to his prayers summarily dismissing the tiny man.  He would read the contents of the parchment later.  

Annoyance

“Whom are you talking to Mistress?” A female servant asked as she had just entered behind Grisum.  She was of no particular notice to Grisum, just a gifted indentured servant given by the lord who claimed her land.

     Grisum looked up. “You speak to me?”  She turned her head to look at the girl who spoke.  This bubbly full figured girl, no woman, carried a bucket of fresh water.  She set the water down near Grisum’s chair.   The servant’s appearance looked as if the girl had not worked a day of hard labor in her life.  Her green dress had a simple high waist just under her perky breasts.  The skirt of the dress fell just above the girls ankles showing trim heals.  The girl wore no shoes but that was what Grisum liked,  no dirty shoes would be drug across her hall. 

     The female servant approached the table.  She placed a hand foolishly on Grisum’s shoulder, brushing the glistening black silver hair aside.  “I can tell you are lonely.” Empathy glistened in the girls rich blue eyes.

     Grisum did not reply.  She just turned a her head a little bit more to look at the hand.  The young plump fleshy hand that touched Grisum’s should.  A hand that violated her by being placed on her shoulder.  This was a touch that if there was skin underneath it would have caused Grisum’s skin to crawl with revolution.  This intimate touch was the first in a hundred years.  Was the girl touched in the head?

     The servant spoke again.  “My mother talked to herself too.”  She paused not paying attention to what was about to happen.  “She was terribly sick...”

     Words were mumbled, “incantos, incindos, mortis!” and the lich raised her right hand.

     The girl’s arm flickered with a small flame at the finger tips. The girl’s eyes widened in fear as she screamed in pain. The flame quickly drove up the flesh, getting wider as it gained momentum and more flesh to burn, turning the girl bit by bit to ash. The girl’s hysterics ceased when the flame reached her throat. The ash floated down to the floor.  Some of the girls ash fell on Grisum but the lich did not care.  There was a faint smell of burnt flesh that floated around the room. 

     Another servant came into the room to clean up the mess. 

     Grisum looked at the pile of ash on the floor with revulsion.  The new servant that entered did not look at the lich, she just brushed the ash into a dust bin.  The servant left with the bin not giving a word to Grisum which was exactly what the lich liked. 

     Grisum thought, that girl had no right to touch her.  A peasant touching her!  The outrage, but the girls touch made her mind drift.  Drift to above her castle cave, drift to the sand that once had been her home.  If a lich could cry, Grisum would have...