Brothers (Song of Len the Wanderer, 2024 edition, Snippet 3)
Brothers (Song of Len the Wanderer, 2024 edition, Snippet 3)
A lighter sort of story fragment from the Dustsong Cycle
(Read Song of Len the Wanderer, Snippet 2.)
Twenty or so years later. . .
Hidden among forevergreens and thorntrees that scratched his bare arms and chest, Len watched his brother.
Sceg leaned on his shepherding crook in the meadow of red and white flowers below. He had his back to Len. The cool, dry wind made Sceg’s cloak ripple. His flock of bighorns had scattered behind him to graze.
Boulders and pointy rocks stuck out of the grass. The edge of the meadow, where Sceg stood, made a shelf on the side of the mountain. Len’s brother was looking south. Taking in the view. With that pondering look on his face, no doubt.
The view was familiar after all their years living in the Fangs, but it was still impressive. Misty mountains encircled most of the valley below, except the desert wastes in the east. Not just mountains. The leftovers of the battle where the Wright defeated Livyat. When time itself began.
But Len wasn’t here to appreciate the Wright’s handiwork. He slid down a short, grassy slope into the meadow. Sharp rock edges scraped his feet and legs, but he didn’t much care. The little cuts and bruises only made him more irritated.
Len picked himself up and stomped across the meadow. He was spitting mad and didn’t bother hiding it. A bighorn scampered out of his path.
“You were wanting to meet me here this morning,” Sceg said. He half-turned toward Len. “I didn’t think I’d be first to arrive. Midday will be here soon.”
He wasn’t here first. Just like he wasn’t born first. But Len didn’t trouble to correct him. “Hello, brother,” he said. Half a dozen steps from Sceg, he slowed to a halt. “Guess where I’ve been?”
Sceg didn’t reply, but he turned to face Len fully. Len answered his own question: “I took a gift to the lord of the sky-realm.”
His brother still didn’t take the bait. I reckon we’ve had this talk before.
“He never showed,” Len told Sceg. His frustration overflowed into his words. They tasted bitter in his mouth. In the back of Len’s mind, Father’s voice reminded him to watch his tone. “We owe the Wright our respect. And our fear.” Len ignored the warning.
“The Wright couldn’t be bothered, I reckon,” he snarked instead. Too riled up to stay put, he stepped closer to Sceg. They’d been about the same height since they finished growing. Otherwise, they looked about as similar as dawn-break and dusk.
“So, then I set fire to my gift,” Len told Sceg. “It was the first and best of what I harvested this seven-day past. And still the Wright didn’t show. Not one word. Not a sign.”
His brother studied him calmly. That only made Len madder.
“It took hours to burn the sheaves of wheat and barley. Unnatural long, I’d say,” Len continued. And even the berries didn’t burn up straightaway. Why do you think that is, brother?”
Sceg’s answer sounded tired. “I couldn’t say for certain.”
Len seethed with fury. “We both know why. It’s because he didn’t want them. He never wants what I offer.”
Sceg tilted his head and hesitated. He’s got words on the tip of his tongue. But he always ponders them to a pulp first.“What, nothing to say?” Len’s smile stopped at the corners of his mouth. The anger in his tone was ugly, but he couldn’t keep it inside. I’ve done that for too long. What’s the point?
Finally, Sceg broke his silence. “You did the same as always and expected something new to happen. I don’t know what’s got you confused.”
“It confuses me every time,” Len spat, “that the Wright refuses the best of the harvest I’ve put in so much troublesome toil to grow. Yet he gladly accepts a few scraps of your sheep-meat. All that’s required of you is to brood up here on your bony rump all day.”
Sceg shrugged. “He is a lord of living, breathing things. Maybe he wants to be honored with the blood of life.” Half a breath later, before Len could protest, Sceg added, “Or it’s your unhappiness when you give him your gifts. What lurks unseen in your soul. Because his realm is made up of unseen things.”
At that, Len threw up his hands. “The way I do it? If the Wright doesn’t like the taste of food that grows in the earth, then he ought to tell me to my face,” he growled. “He should show himself and talk to me direct.” Like he used to talk to Father and Mother. “Instead, he ignores us. You’d think we were barbarians.”
Sceg turned up his nose at Len’s mention of the valley-dwellers. All he cared about these days were those blasted sheep. I’m the only one who wonders what goes on beyond the hollow. Father spent his time in the woods, picking berries and talking to wild critters. Mother quietly longed for the home she and Father had lost somehow, before they built the cottage.
Len wanted to explore the earthly realm and meet the different kinds of folk who must dwell on it. He itched to know what sorts of plants grew out there and how to make them grow better.
When Sceg spoke, Len could tell his brother’s patience was worn thin. “Did you tame Livyat? Did I? If the Wright keeps his thoughts to himself and doesn’t ask what we think makes sense, I’m not sure who we are to complain.”
“We’re not lords, no, but have we done him wrong?” Len fumed. “I know Mother or Father maybe offended him once. But I don’t recall offending anybody. Let alone the storm-tamer who got the best of Livyat. Sometimes, I wonder if we’re being punished for our parents’ mistakes.”
Sceg rested both hands and his bearded chin on his crook. “If we suffer because of each other, sometimes, that’s the way it works in this realm under the sun. If a beast of my flock wanders off, and a prowler-cat attacks and eats another sheep while I’m looking for the first, it can’t be helped.”
Len scoffed. “Mayhap it can’t be helped after the fool thing’s been digested already. But it’s your fault for letting the one beast wander and the other be eaten, isn’t it, now.” It wasn’t a question.
Sceg shrugged and said, “You can twist the matter however you choose.” He sighed impatiently and added, “Brother, have you considered that the Wright might be more than just the ruler of the blue sky? Or of the yellow sun or the green earth? I reckon he means to be lord of you and lord of me.”
Len took a threatening step closer to Sceg. That put them in arm’s reach of each other. It felt like a dark mist had settled over his mind, which made it hard to think straight. He gave his head a quick shake, but it didn’t help.
“Isn’t it all just perfect for you?” Len sneered. “The Wright smiles on your work—if sitting around with these sheep and daydreaming can be called that. I work twice as hard as you, at least. I get dirt under my nails. How often do you break a sweat?”
Len was so fed up, he could hardly see his brother anymore. “And my gifts are treated like trash. They come from the same dust as Father and Mother, but it seems they’re worth nothing. What’s so special about your fool critters?”
“You’ll never see why,” Sceg answered, “because you think only about what other beings owe you.” His gaze looked sad, but his voice was stern. “I reckon it’s time you leave, Len. Climb the Fangs as high as you can and try to take from the Wright what you think is proper. Or else head downslope and live with the barbarians you you’re so curious about. Grow your gardens. Be satisfied.”
Now Sceg’s expression hardened, too. “But whichever way you choose, get yourself gone from here. I don’t rightly know why you wanted to see me, or what you expect. But leave me alone in peace.”
Note from the Author
Y’know, I expected to do more outright chopping as I adapted this bit of Len’s story. It’s a longer conversation than I’d usually want in a snippet meant for lighter reading or younger readers. But everything that happens afterward—in Len’s life and in the whole of the Vaporous Realms—rests heavily on this meeting between Len and Sceg. (There are two other catalytic events in the history of the Realms: one involving Len’s parents, alluded to in this snippet. The other involves Egwae and her kin generations later, as foreshadowed in the Havok story “Watchers.") None of Len’s story matters much if you don’t understand what he experienced here, in some depth. So I was reluctant to cut anything of thematic substance. Instead, I contented myself with tightening the narrative style a bit and simplifying the word choices.
You may notice that instead of the Legend of Len, this serial is now called the Song of Len the Wanderer. When I went to register for an ISBN, it occurred to me that Chronicles of the Vaporous Realms is an unwieldy mouthful for a middle-grade book series. So the book versions will be the Legends, while I’m keeping the old Songs title for these serialized versions. [Note: For a spell, I was going to use Chronicles for this “lighter” serialized version, but I’ve since decided Chronicles will be for a darker, adult-oriented serialized version that embraces a more Tolkien-influenced style than I’ve typically used thus far. The book versions of the Chronicles will be the Tales.]
I’m also excited to have commissioned an artist to create the cover illustration for The Legend of Len the Wanderer. It’ll be our first fully custom artwork for the Vaporous Realms, and I can’t wait to share it with y’all.
Happy reading!