Watchers (Snippet 1)
Watchers (Snippet 1)
A story fragment from the Dustsong Cycle
Author Note
Some of y’all read this story way back in November, when Havok Publishing featured it for a day. A huge thanks, once more, to those of you who read, commented, and/or rated the story on that platform!
Finally, Havok’s exclusive rights to publish the story have expired. I’m happy to be able to share it here at long last, unaltered, in two parts.
I hope you’ll enjoy, for the first time or otherwise, this peek into the future of Egwae from Dustsong: Len the Wanderer.
Watchers
Beings. The aimless complaint came unbidden to Egwae’s idling mind.
She withdrew her hand from a withering vine of translucent flame and closed her eyes. A deep breath filled her with alpine air. Earthly. Abrasive. Traces of her father’s realm emanated from the wall of vibrant, unruly foliage that loomed over her kneeling form, its fragrance intermingled with the crude, complicated odors of the vale.
As she exhaled, the earthier smells dissipated. Distractions subsided. Irritation at the mundane feel of linen on flesh abated. Only that lovely aroma of home remained to soothe her consciousness.
Egwae rose and smoothed her pleated tunic. She returned her focus to the verdant wall and the fiery haze of pale yellow light enveloping it. Wall and shield together obstructed all but the midday glare of the winter sky above. Those subtly curved barriers stretched nearly the length of the vale, from eastern heights to precipitous western descent.
She continued her careful survey of the light-shield. Snow crunched softly underfoot as she took gliding rightward paces. With each measured step, she breathed in memories of the heaven-realm. The shield diffused the garden’s scent to a tantalizing, yet comforting, effect. The one pleasant aspect of being warden here.
Egwae stooped beside a tendril of light as long as her forearm. Her fingers glowed warmly as they coaxed it back into the shield. It hesitated; she prodded it with flicks of clear flame.
Any enjoyment derived from my drudgery is incidental. I serve the Wright, not myself. Nor human folk, who disappoint. The wanderer—the marked one, gone to dust now—had not always disappointed. She would rather tend the garden perimeter for a millennium than another human for a seven-day.
My kin are not so different, else Kel would not have abandoned me.
The loose thread had reabsorbed fully into the haze; the shield was mended. For a fleeting instant, Egwae felt satisfaction. She resumed her circuit.
A sudden recollection chilled the spirit coursing through her being. I fixed the same snarl yesterday. That exact spot. Her repair should have lasted thirty cycles of the sun.
Egwae whirled about and scanned the valley rim. Betwixt snow-laden forevergreens fifty paces distant, the air shimmered like sunbeams off ice. Serpent-spawn.
With a flourish of her hands, she produced a greatsword of swirling white and orange flame. She swung it overhead and snapped a billowing fire-cloud heavenward from the blade tip. Too late for help, mayhap.
Livyat’s minion already bounded toward her. This two-legged mockery of the Wright’s children had a broad tail and dagger-like foreclaws. Glistening like scaly, sweaty ice, it mimicked the mottled white hues of its environs—all except the green that tinged its gills, eyes, nose slits, and face-splitting mouth.
Twenty paces. She held her fiery blade aloft and memorized the rhythm of the creature’s movements.
Ten paces. She fastened her gaze on those serpentine eyes.
Three paces. Livyat’s servant gave a rasping snarl. Egwae dropped her sword to a low guard. Anticipating the creature’s feint, she swept up, into a lefthand aurochs’ horn. It leapt just as she cut down to the right. Her weapon sliced the unnatural creature clean through, from head to tail. Its icy hide offered no resistance. Like parting mist.