Aresan Clan pt 106

Jesek, along with all the other scribes, ceased his work for the day close to the night point. He stowed his materials away while other scribes were doing the same, pushing the papers, ink and pens into separate places in the shelves on the wall. Jesek said goodbye to his colleagues and, along with them, left the Public House for home.

He and his wife, Selah, occupied an apartment near where he worked. He stepped off the street into a small quad shared by several surrounding apartments. He climbed a set up stairs rising from the street-level to the second-story front door of his apartment. When he opened the door, the first person he saw was his tiny infant son, nestled in a cradle on the floor.

Selah walked into the room and said, “Hello, my love,” as she reached down and picked up the smiling infant. The gorgeous young blonde wrapped her slender arms around him and nestled him close against her soft chest.

Jesek took his son in his hands, playfully raising him up above his head. “Hello, my little treasure box,” he said to the child in a cheerful voice, “You didn’t give your mother any trouble today, did you?”

After a few moments of playing with his son, he handed him back to his wife, and told her, “I had a personal visit from General Alles. He’s of course going to be going with the army when they leave in a few days. And he wants me with him.”

Selah gave her husband a distressed look, and asked, “You didn’t say you would, did you?”

“Now, hold on. I haven’t finished,” he admonished, “He told me I wouldn’t be fighting. I’d be far behind the battlefield. I’d just be helping out with navigation and strategy.”

“And you told him, ‘no,’ right?” Selah again interrupted.

“I'm not finished,” he again admonished, “He said I’d be paid well for my services, not to mention the prestige of the position. But, I said…”

“You said you couldn’t do it,” Selah interrupted once more.

“No, I said I’d have to ask my wife. It’s up to her,” Jesek said, pausing for a moment and bringing out his disarming smile, “So? What do you think?”

Selah didn’t say anything in response, but was clearly unmoved. Jesek was accustomed to being able to persuade a woman of anything he said simply by leaning in towards her, gripping her hands and looking deep into her eyes with a beguiling smile spread across his lips. He could never be refused. He was used to his serene handsomeness enchanting women and putting them under his power. He’d never mastered the art of persuading people with words—in the form of a letter or an essay. He was used to being able to use his body and his body’s language to persuade. His wife, though, had grown partially immune to his powers, so that when he grabbed her hand, locked her in his eyes and said, “This would be really great for both of us; I’ll come back alive and well,” it was ineffective.

He didn’t need her to speak to understand that her mind remained unchanged and he was quick to cut her off before she could speak, saying, “It’s also a matter of duty. They’ve done so much for us. We were taken in as refuges. Our baby was delivered here by an Aresan Mage. And they helped me find a job. After all that, we have a duty to do what we can for our adopted home.”

“You already did your part,” Selah complained, “You were gone for days. I was all alone. And now you’ll leave me alone again.”

“You’ve got friends here now. They’ll help you. And think about what we could do with the money. What we could do for our baby,” he said.

Jesek had intensified the force of his persuasive body language, slowing moving his face closer and pleading with his eyes as he said, “I will be back.”

Selah finally gave up, fatigued from the effort of resisting. She didn’t say anything, but he could clearly see it in the way her body relaxed and retreated. “It will be for the best,” he said, “For all three of us.”

<-- Go to Part 105         Go to Part 107 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

Jesek, along with all the other scribes, ceased his work for the day close to the night point. He stowed his materials away while other scribes were doing the same, pushing the papers, ink and pens into separate places in the shelves on the wall. Jesek said goodbye to his colleagues and, along with them, left the Public House for home.

He and his wife, Selah, occupied an apartment near where he worked. He stepped off the street into a small quad shared by several surrounding apartments. He climbed a set up stairs rising from the street-level to the second-story front door of his apartment. When he opened the door, the first person he saw was his tiny infant son, nestled in a cradle on the floor.

Selah walked into the room and said, “Hello, my love,” as she reached down and picked up the smiling infant. The gorgeous young blonde wrapped her slender arms around him and nestled him close against her soft chest.

Jesek took his son in his hands, playfully raising him up above his head. “Hello, my little treasure box,” he said to the child in a cheerful voice, “You didn’t give your mother any trouble today, did you?”

After a few moments of playing with his son, he handed him back to his wife, and told her, “I had a personal visit from General Alles. He’s of course going to be going with the army when they leave in a few days. And he wants me with him.”

Selah gave her husband a distressed look, and asked, “You didn’t say you would, did you?”

“Now, hold on. I haven’t finished,” he admonished, “He told me I wouldn’t be fighting. I’d be far behind the battlefield. I’d just be helping out with navigation and strategy.”

“And you told him, ‘no,’ right?” Selah again interrupted.

“I'm not finished,” he again admonished, “He said I’d be paid well for my services, not to mention the prestige of the position. But, I said…”

“You said you couldn’t do it,” Selah interrupted once more.

“No, I said I’d have to ask my wife. It’s up to her,” Jesek said, pausing for a moment and bringing out his disarming smile, “So? What do you think?”

Selah didn’t say anything in response, but was clearly unmoved. Jesek was accustomed to being able to persuade a woman of anything he said simply by leaning in towards her, gripping her hands and looking deep into her eyes with a beguiling smile spread across his lips. He could never be refused. He was used to his serene handsomeness enchanting women and putting them under his power. He’d never mastered the art of persuading people with words—in the form of a letter or an essay. He was used to being able to use his body and his body’s language to persuade. His wife, though, had grown partially immune to his powers, so that when he grabbed her hand, locked her in his eyes and said, “This would be really great for both of us; I’ll come back alive and well,” it was ineffective.

He didn’t need her to speak to understand that her mind remained unchanged and he was quick to cut her off before she could speak, saying, “It’s also a matter of duty. They’ve done so much for us. We were taken in as refuges. Our baby was delivered here by an Aresan Mage. And they helped me find a job. After all that, we have a duty to do what we can for our adopted home.”

“You already did your part,” Selah complained, “You were gone for days. I was all alone. And now you’ll leave me alone again.”

“You’ve got friends here now. They’ll help you. And think about what we could do with the money. What we could do for our baby,” he said.

Jesek had intensified the force of his persuasive body language, slowing moving his face closer and pleading with his eyes as he said, “I will be back.”

Selah finally gave up, fatigued from the effort of resisting. She didn’t say anything, but he could clearly see it in the way her body relaxed and retreated. “It will be for the best,” he said, “For all three of us.”

<-- Go to Part 105         Go to Part 107 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

Aresan Clan pt 106

Aresan Clan pt 105

When Strya Solis and Rock weren’t calling out to the assembled crowds they were complaining confidentially to one another: “This is the worst part about being a soldier,” “Why can’t they find other people who actually enjoy this rubbish,” “Think killing soldiers is tough? Try persuading these weak-kneed cowards to arm up and fight,” “We’re not even that good at it,” and so on.

The complaints came to a stop when Solis elbowed Rock in the side and gestured towards Alles, who was sauntering towards them. He had the posture of a chiseled statue and people slipped aside as he moved through the crowds. The whole character of the crowds changed when they saw Alles. He moved as if he walked above them, as if the soles of his feet tread upon their heads and they looked up at him with admiration.

Solis and Rock had the strength and confidence of hardened soldiers and could surely terrify any man who ran upon them alone and defenseless, but they couldn’t command veneration like Alles. They both straightened up when they saw Alles approaching and fell silent.

“Welcome General,” the men both said in unison.

“Has your recruiting been successful?” Alles asked.

The two men looked at one another and traded slight frowns before they looked back to Alles and said simultaneously: “We’ve been somewhat successful” and “We’ve gotten a few recruits.”

“Good,” Alles said, “Do better, though. I know this is not the type of job you have been trained for, but this is absolutely necessary. Let me assist, at least.”

Alles then turned around and looked over the crowd and announced in a booming voice: “Citizens and civilians, we are in search of recruits for our army. Your country needs you. Your friends and neighbors need you, in order to protect them against the invading hordes that threaten their lives and their freedom. Do you have enough metal in your heart to take up the burden of this responsibility? Do you? If so, come forth and give us your name and your commitment.”

Within moments of Alles finishing his short soliloquy, several men were already lining up before Rock and Solis. The two soldiers asked each man their name and which clan they belonged to; then they made a mark on a sheet of paper, by which they kept track of the number of recruits; finally they took a cup of ink and dipped the four fingers of the recruit’s right hand into it until the fingers were stained a deep purple.

“Don’t both trying to wash that off,” Solis instructed them after their fingers were stained, “We’ll call for you in two days. So be ready.”

Alles departed soon afterwards, walking towards where he had originally been headed, to the Public House. He walked in through the main entrance. Many people stepped aside and bowed to him as he walked through the colonnade to the Open Table. Off to the right, in a small scriptorium, he found Jesek, the man he was looking for. He saw the young refuge huddled over a paper, which he was copying. It was an official decree concerning the commandeering of horses for the purpose of the upcoming war.

When Jesek saw the general, he stood up. “Sit, please,” Alles said, and grabbed a chair to sit beside him. “I want you to join me again when we march,” Alles said, leaning forward and looking directly into Jesek’s eyes, “You won’t be expected to fight. You’ll remain in the back ranks, assisting with navigation and strategy. Your contributions will be invaluable. I cannot stress that enough. You will of course be compensated generously for your service. But I can’t force you to join on this time. It’ll be entirely voluntary. If you insist on refusing, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. But I very much want you to join us.”

A disarming smile spread across Jesek’s lips as he heard this, and he lowered his face and looked up at Alles with his soulful eyes. “For you Alles, I’d do anything,” Jesek said, “But I’ll have to ask the wife. She makes my decisions for me.” He produced a small laugh to express that he was joking, though he was only partially doing so.

<-- Go to Part 104         Go to Part 106 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

When Strya Solis and Rock weren’t calling out to the assembled crowds they were complaining confidentially to one another: “This is the worst part about being a soldier,” “Why can’t they find other people who actually enjoy this rubbish,” “Think killing soldiers is tough? Try persuading these weak-kneed cowards to arm up and fight,” “We’re not even that good at it,” and so on.

The complaints came to a stop when Solis elbowed Rock in the side and gestured towards Alles, who was sauntering towards them. He had the posture of a chiseled statue and people slipped aside as he moved through the crowds. The whole character of the crowds changed when they saw Alles. He moved as if he walked above them, as if the soles of his feet tread upon their heads and they looked up at him with admiration.

Solis and Rock had the strength and confidence of hardened soldiers and could surely terrify any man who ran upon them alone and defenseless, but they couldn’t command veneration like Alles. They both straightened up when they saw Alles approaching and fell silent.

“Welcome General,” the men both said in unison.

“Has your recruiting been successful?” Alles asked.

The two men looked at one another and traded slight frowns before they looked back to Alles and said simultaneously: “We’ve been somewhat successful” and “We’ve gotten a few recruits.”

“Good,” Alles said, “Do better, though. I know this is not the type of job you have been trained for, but this is absolutely necessary. Let me assist, at least.”

Alles then turned around and looked over the crowd and announced in a booming voice: “Citizens and civilians, we are in search of recruits for our army. Your country needs you. Your friends and neighbors need you, in order to protect them against the invading hordes that threaten their lives and their freedom. Do you have enough metal in your heart to take up the burden of this responsibility? Do you? If so, come forth and give us your name and your commitment.”

Within moments of Alles finishing his short soliloquy, several men were already lining up before Rock and Solis. The two soldiers asked each man their name and which clan they belonged to; then they made a mark on a sheet of paper, by which they kept track of the number of recruits; finally they took a cup of ink and dipped the four fingers of the recruit’s right hand into it until the fingers were stained a deep purple.

“Don’t both trying to wash that off,” Solis instructed them after their fingers were stained, “We’ll call for you in two days. So be ready.”

Alles departed soon afterwards, walking towards where he had originally been headed, to the Public House. He walked in through the main entrance. Many people stepped aside and bowed to him as he walked through the colonnade to the Open Table. Off to the right, in a small scriptorium, he found Jesek, the man he was looking for. He saw the young refuge huddled over a paper, which he was copying. It was an official decree concerning the commandeering of horses for the purpose of the upcoming war.

When Jesek saw the general, he stood up. “Sit, please,” Alles said, and grabbed a chair to sit beside him. “I want you to join me again when we march,” Alles said, leaning forward and looking directly into Jesek’s eyes, “You won’t be expected to fight. You’ll remain in the back ranks, assisting with navigation and strategy. Your contributions will be invaluable. I cannot stress that enough. You will of course be compensated generously for your service. But I can’t force you to join on this time. It’ll be entirely voluntary. If you insist on refusing, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. But I very much want you to join us.”

A disarming smile spread across Jesek’s lips as he heard this, and he lowered his face and looked up at Alles with his soulful eyes. “For you Alles, I’d do anything,” Jesek said, “But I’ll have to ask the wife. She makes my decisions for me.” He produced a small laugh to express that he was joking, though he was only partially doing so.

<-- Go to Part 104         Go to Part 106 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

Aresan Clan pt 105

Aresan Clan pt 104

Strya dragged Mill through the streets, through many infrequented back ways and side streets to the point that Mill was so lost and dizzied by the endless turns that he had no idea where they were or to where they were progressing. They skittered through narrow dirt paths between faceless buildings, slipping across short stretches of paved road and darting through patches of grass-strewn yards and parks. As they travelled further and further, the spaces between buildings expanded, the sizes of homes shrank and they crossed, more and more frequently, tracts of farmland of growing size.

“We can’t use any of the roads,” Strya said as they cut across a pasture, moving in the direction that Mill could now clearly identify as summerward, “But I can lead you to where you want to go.”

Mill turned around and looked back at the retreating metropolis of Waldoon, which loomed so high above them. The whole city sprawled over the horizon, with the central citadel poking above the rest of the buildings crowding at its feet.

“I want to go to Orinda,” Mill said to Strya.

Strya only expressed the slightest bit of surprise when he heard this. Though he knew that Mill must surely know this, he felt compelled to explain, “You do realize that it’s dangerous for you to go there? You won’t be able to enter through the main gates, and I can’t help you get past the creature of virtue.” Strya shook his head as he said these things to Mill, who simply nodded in response.

“I’ll take the risk,” Mill said, “I don’t intend to stay. Just to get in and out.”

Mill looked uneasy as he said this, almost afraid, but Strya wasn’t one to interfere with another man’s plans, so he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “Then I’ll lead you to Orinda.”

“And about that question earlier?” Mill asked, “Why you helped me escape?”

Strya laughed a little after Mill said this and replied, “Well, I had to deliver a message for Anders and I figured the easiest and most reliable way was to deliver it in person. But, you know, after going through all the effort of figuring out where you were, and how to sneak in, and then infiltrating that place and finding your cell and knocking out that guard, it wasn’t that much additional work to help you out. The hardest part was just finding you. So, I figured, why not. Besides, I think Anders would prefer to have you out. I’m pretty sure he’s got something he wants you to do for him in this message.”

Strya pulled the sealed envelope from his pocket and handed it over with the bag of gold. Mill popped open the seal and unfolded the letter, quickly reading through its contents with an ever darkening expression.

“I’ll have to find Erek-Monte and his tribe,” Mill said as he folded the letter.

“You can’t tell me any more about what it says?” Strya jocularly asked, “No fun. As for Erek-Monte and his tribe I haven’t see them in more than a season. You can find them of course. They’re always around, but, since they’re Itinerants, they’re everywhere. By which I mean, they’re nowhere. What I’m saying is, I won’t be able to help you. Though, I will take you to Orinda, as I said.”

Mill then nodded and turned forward, with a wordless gesture of “lead the way.”


In the streets of Lamosa, positioned on all of the most prominent avenues and squares, several recruitment posts had been set up. Usually two or three soldiers who stood in their armor, brandishing weapons and holding the reins of a giant warhorse, staffed these. They shouted repeatedly to the passers by, “Our armies need you, men. To protect our land and keep our borders safe. Do your duty for your clan. Three square meals a day and gold in your pockets,” and so on. The specter of the Fourth Order was frequently invoked and the glory of great General Alles also mentioned.

Solis and Rock had been placed in the Omnian Plaza. With their backs to the Public House and their gleaming swords shining in the sun, they tried to draw in the reluctant peasants in the crowd, who looked curiously at them out of the corner of their eyes but were too apprehensive to approach.

“You there,” they’d point these men out with their swords, “A strong man like you could do our nation proud. With a weapon in your hand you’d single-handedly make our enemies quake.”

<-- Go to Part 103         Go to Part 105 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

Strya dragged Mill through the streets, through many infrequented back ways and side streets to the point that Mill was so lost and dizzied by the endless turns that he had no idea where they were or to where they were progressing. They skittered through narrow dirt paths between faceless buildings, slipping across short stretches of paved road and darting through patches of grass-strewn yards and parks. As they travelled further and further, the spaces between buildings expanded, the sizes of homes shrank and they crossed, more and more frequently, tracts of farmland of growing size.

“We can’t use any of the roads,” Strya said as they cut across a pasture, moving in the direction that Mill could now clearly identify as summerward, “But I can lead you to where you want to go.”

Mill turned around and looked back at the retreating metropolis of Waldoon, which loomed so high above them. The whole city sprawled over the horizon, with the central citadel poking above the rest of the buildings crowding at its feet.

“I want to go to Orinda,” Mill said to Strya.

Strya only expressed the slightest bit of surprise when he heard this. Though he knew that Mill must surely know this, he felt compelled to explain, “You do realize that it’s dangerous for you to go there? You won’t be able to enter through the main gates, and I can’t help you get past the creature of virtue.” Strya shook his head as he said these things to Mill, who simply nodded in response.

“I’ll take the risk,” Mill said, “I don’t intend to stay. Just to get in and out.”

Mill looked uneasy as he said this, almost afraid, but Strya wasn’t one to interfere with another man’s plans, so he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “Then I’ll lead you to Orinda.”

“And about that question earlier?” Mill asked, “Why you helped me escape?”

Strya laughed a little after Mill said this and replied, “Well, I had to deliver a message for Anders and I figured the easiest and most reliable way was to deliver it in person. But, you know, after going through all the effort of figuring out where you were, and how to sneak in, and then infiltrating that place and finding your cell and knocking out that guard, it wasn’t that much additional work to help you out. The hardest part was just finding you. So, I figured, why not. Besides, I think Anders would prefer to have you out. I’m pretty sure he’s got something he wants you to do for him in this message.”

Strya pulled the sealed envelope from his pocket and handed it over with the bag of gold. Mill popped open the seal and unfolded the letter, quickly reading through its contents with an ever darkening expression.

“I’ll have to find Erek-Monte and his tribe,” Mill said as he folded the letter.

“You can’t tell me any more about what it says?” Strya jocularly asked, “No fun. As for Erek-Monte and his tribe I haven’t see them in more than a season. You can find them of course. They’re always around, but, since they’re Itinerants, they’re everywhere. By which I mean, they’re nowhere. What I’m saying is, I won’t be able to help you. Though, I will take you to Orinda, as I said.”

Mill then nodded and turned forward, with a wordless gesture of “lead the way.”


In the streets of Lamosa, positioned on all of the most prominent avenues and squares, several recruitment posts had been set up. Usually two or three soldiers who stood in their armor, brandishing weapons and holding the reins of a giant warhorse, staffed these. They shouted repeatedly to the passers by, “Our armies need you, men. To protect our land and keep our borders safe. Do your duty for your clan. Three square meals a day and gold in your pockets,” and so on. The specter of the Fourth Order was frequently invoked and the glory of great General Alles also mentioned.

Solis and Rock had been placed in the Omnian Plaza. With their backs to the Public House and their gleaming swords shining in the sun, they tried to draw in the reluctant peasants in the crowd, who looked curiously at them out of the corner of their eyes but were too apprehensive to approach.

“You there,” they’d point these men out with their swords, “A strong man like you could do our nation proud. With a weapon in your hand you’d single-handedly make our enemies quake.”

<-- Go to Part 103         Go to Part 105 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

Aresan Clan pt 104

Aresan Clan pt 103

When the door finally opened Mill curled up in the corner and hid his face, quivering and weeping with terror. Then he heard a voice, familiar from somewhere beyond Waldoon, asking him, “Mill?”

He peaked out to look and saw, emerging from the shadows, the face of Strya entering the room towards him.

When Strya saw Mill’s face he said, “Thank Anan it’s you. I didn’t want to have to break down another of these doors and I wasn’t entirely sure this was your cell. I guess this means you’re the only Omnian spy they have here.”

Strya was by this point helping Mill to his feet and pulling him towards the door. “Pack your bags, we’re going on a trip,” Strya joked as he pulled him through the door.

Mill stumbled behind him, his legs sore and still not feeling entirely awake. Out in the hallway, he looked to the side and saw a guard lying on the ground unconscious. Strya held onto his hand and jerked at it for Mill to move faster. Ascending the stairs, he practically dragged Mill up them as Mill falteringly followed behind.

At the top of the stairs, Strya halted and peaked down the hall. He held Mill back as he waited for a figure in the distance to disappear. Then he led Mill in the opposite direction and up another set of stairs.

“Aren’t we at ground level already?” Mill asked, groggily and bleary eyed.

“We’re going up,” Strya said, “No good exits down there.”

The stairs they ascended spiraled upwards through a cramped space they had to stoop through. For many steps they climbed, well beyond the point when Mill started growing fatigued. When Strya felt Mill’s energy flagging, he encouraged, whispering to him, “If you don’t want to get us caught, you keep apace.” Mills legs started to ache and his lungs to burn, yet Strya kept on pulling him on without yielding.

They reached the top and Strya pushed through a heavy door. A strong wind was blowing and the air was cool. When Mill stepped out, he saw an impressive view of Waldoon. He looked over the edge and saw that there were several stories between where they were and the ground.

Strya walked over to the far end of the roof, gave a quick look down and then tossed a rope over the edge. He watched the rope unfurl and stop still at a good distance from the ground. He shrugged a little when he said, “I knew it was a bit too short. Oh well, it’ll do.”

Strya turned to look at Mill smiling and said, “I climbed up here without the rope. What a rush. I didn’t think you were too skilled in wall climbing so I brought the rope. You can thank me when you get to the end of it and see how long you have to drop.”

Strya handed Mill a pair of leather gloves. Then, wearing nothing on his hands, he hopped over the edge, holding onto the rope and announced, “Don’t linger.”

Mill had an uneasy sense of vertigo when he looked over the ledge at the ground so far below. But, with a quick prayer to Anan and a few deep breaths he followed Strya over the edge.

Strya moved down at a rapid pace, dropping hand over hand as his feet walked against the wall. When Strya got to the end of the rope, he slipped down as far as he could, with his hands holding just the tip of the rope. Then he let go and dropped the last distance.

Mill could hear him Strya’s hard landing, though he didn’t understand what it signified. He slowly lowered himself, his gloved hands gripping the rope as tightly as he could. His hands grew sore and weak and felt as if they would give way at any moment.

Finally, he reached the end of the rope. He reached out a foot, thinking that it would just touch the ground, but it only met with empty air. He looked down, and saw that he was more than two body-lengths above the ground. He was so shocked at the sight, that he lost his grip and tumbled down through the air. He landed hard in the dirt, his body collapsing painfully to the ground. His legs, ankles and bottom were all sore, though none of them apparently injured.

He thanked Anan again and stood up, seeing Strya already impatiently offering a hand to lead him on.

“Why’d you come to rescue me?” Mill asked in a tone lacking in gratitude.

Strya replied, “Not now. We still have to get out of the city.”

<-- Go to Part 102         Go to Part 104 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

When the door finally opened Mill curled up in the corner and hid his face, quivering and weeping with terror. Then he heard a voice, familiar from somewhere beyond Waldoon, asking him, “Mill?”

He peaked out to look and saw, emerging from the shadows, the face of Strya entering the room towards him.

When Strya saw Mill’s face he said, “Thank Anan it’s you. I didn’t want to have to break down another of these doors and I wasn’t entirely sure this was your cell. I guess this means you’re the only Omnian spy they have here.”

Strya was by this point helping Mill to his feet and pulling him towards the door. “Pack your bags, we’re going on a trip,” Strya joked as he pulled him through the door.

Mill stumbled behind him, his legs sore and still not feeling entirely awake. Out in the hallway, he looked to the side and saw a guard lying on the ground unconscious. Strya held onto his hand and jerked at it for Mill to move faster. Ascending the stairs, he practically dragged Mill up them as Mill falteringly followed behind.

At the top of the stairs, Strya halted and peaked down the hall. He held Mill back as he waited for a figure in the distance to disappear. Then he led Mill in the opposite direction and up another set of stairs.

“Aren’t we at ground level already?” Mill asked, groggily and bleary eyed.

“We’re going up,” Strya said, “No good exits down there.”

The stairs they ascended spiraled upwards through a cramped space they had to stoop through. For many steps they climbed, well beyond the point when Mill started growing fatigued. When Strya felt Mill’s energy flagging, he encouraged, whispering to him, “If you don’t want to get us caught, you keep apace.” Mills legs started to ache and his lungs to burn, yet Strya kept on pulling him on without yielding.

They reached the top and Strya pushed through a heavy door. A strong wind was blowing and the air was cool. When Mill stepped out, he saw an impressive view of Waldoon. He looked over the edge and saw that there were several stories between where they were and the ground.

Strya walked over to the far end of the roof, gave a quick look down and then tossed a rope over the edge. He watched the rope unfurl and stop still at a good distance from the ground. He shrugged a little when he said, “I knew it was a bit too short. Oh well, it’ll do.”

Strya turned to look at Mill smiling and said, “I climbed up here without the rope. What a rush. I didn’t think you were too skilled in wall climbing so I brought the rope. You can thank me when you get to the end of it and see how long you have to drop.”

Strya handed Mill a pair of leather gloves. Then, wearing nothing on his hands, he hopped over the edge, holding onto the rope and announced, “Don’t linger.”

Mill had an uneasy sense of vertigo when he looked over the ledge at the ground so far below. But, with a quick prayer to Anan and a few deep breaths he followed Strya over the edge.

Strya moved down at a rapid pace, dropping hand over hand as his feet walked against the wall. When Strya got to the end of the rope, he slipped down as far as he could, with his hands holding just the tip of the rope. Then he let go and dropped the last distance.

Mill could hear him Strya’s hard landing, though he didn’t understand what it signified. He slowly lowered himself, his gloved hands gripping the rope as tightly as he could. His hands grew sore and weak and felt as if they would give way at any moment.

Finally, he reached the end of the rope. He reached out a foot, thinking that it would just touch the ground, but it only met with empty air. He looked down, and saw that he was more than two body-lengths above the ground. He was so shocked at the sight, that he lost his grip and tumbled down through the air. He landed hard in the dirt, his body collapsing painfully to the ground. His legs, ankles and bottom were all sore, though none of them apparently injured.

He thanked Anan again and stood up, seeing Strya already impatiently offering a hand to lead him on.

“Why’d you come to rescue me?” Mill asked in a tone lacking in gratitude.

Strya replied, “Not now. We still have to get out of the city.”

<-- Go to Part 102         Go to Part 104 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

Aresan Clan pt 103

Aresan Clan pt 102

After being submerged in the water several more times until his lungs felt as if they could burst, Janake asked Mill, “Are you going to start being honest with me?”

Mill tried to fabricate more information.  This time he claimed he didn’t know the name of the village they were to attack but it was the one nearest to Still Creek in the sunsetward direction and that they planned attacking in probably less than ten days from the previous.  For reasons that Mill couldn’t discern this lie apparently had more of the ring of truth to it and Janake brought the repeated drowning to an end.  He asked for more information and Mill continued to fabricate, aiming for plausible vagueness and apparently succeeding.

Janake told him after hearing all of this, with a conspiratorial smile, “Here you were telling me that you know nothing, and yet, with the proper incentive, we find that you really actually know quite a lot. In fact, the more you tell me, the more convinced I am that you really are holding back vast stores of information.”

Janake then turned Mill vertical and had the guard remove him from the ring.  Water dripped from the entirety of his body and he was breathless and tired.  The cold water had aggravated the wounds on his back, which now stung with renewed freshness.  The guard helped him out of the room, while Janake told him, “That’ll be enough for today.  As reward for your cooperation, we’ll give you a break.  But we will be back tomorrow to continue and hopefully conclude this interrogation.”

The next day when Mill was brought into the room of interrogation, Janake again tied him to a chair, but this time he tied his hands in front of him and inserted his two thumbs into a small screw press that was placed over the knuckles of both of his thumbs.

“This one is really just a variation of the head press and the knee press,” Janake said as he turned the screw so that two wooden plates were pressed snuggly around his thumb-knuckles, “The people who design these instruments of torture aren’t really all that creative.  This one here will break your thumbs, if we have to continue tightening it for too long.  So, if you want to retain the use of your thumbs, I suggest you cooperate.  Right now I want you to tell me as much as you can about the Omnian strategy of conquest?  What regions are they trying to conquer?  How many soldiers do they have allocated for these missions?  Is it one dedicated company or several?  Are these troops active in and around Middle Park and Winter Park at present or have they returned to Sanlosslee Park?  How are they in communication with Lamosa?  Is there a line of communication?”

Mill gave what he thought would be plausible answers to some of these questions, but after a few sentences of hasty, stuttering confessions, Janake asked the guard to tighten.  The guard reached down and gave the screw a firm twist while Janake looked away.  The pain slowly rose in severity until it was at the threshold of Mill’s tolerance.  The two wooden boards pinched his thumbs like the clamp of a strong jaw.  Mill started to panic as the anticipation of even more severe pain overwhelmed him.

He tried to answer Janake again, tears now streaming from his eyes, but Janake wasn’t pacified, and another turn of the screw was applied while Janake cringed.  Mill now screamed with pain.  But the pain didn’t stop, it was steady and unremitting and only grew worse as the moments passed.  His bones were nearly at the point of being crushed and Mill desperately tried to persuade Janake that he was telling the truth.

“I like that you’re talking,” Janake told him, “But I don’t like that you’re still lying to me.”

Mill made some minor variations in the fabrications he provided and to his great relief these seemed to pacify Janake, who told the guard that he could loosen it a little.  Janake, though, still hadn’t had all his questions answers, and he repeated them.  Mill struggled to fabricate plausible lies.

Afterwards, when Mill was deposited in his cell, he rested his body on the floor and began to cry.  His thumbs were in pain and moved only with difficulty, but they hadn’t been broken.  He could only barely sleep in a light doze.

He was roused from sleep by the sound of a heavy weight being pounded against the door of his cell.  He was terrified of whatever it was out there and recoiled to the far end of his tiny cell, quivering with fear and crying profusely once again.

<-- Go to Part 101         Go to Part 103 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

After being submerged in the water several more times until his lungs felt as if they could burst, Janake asked Mill, “Are you going to start being honest with me?”

Mill tried to fabricate more information.  This time he claimed he didn’t know the name of the village they were to attack but it was the one nearest to Still Creek in the sunsetward direction and that they planned attacking in probably less than ten days from the previous.  For reasons that Mill couldn’t discern this lie apparently had more of the ring of truth to it and Janake brought the repeated drowning to an end.  He asked for more information and Mill continued to fabricate, aiming for plausible vagueness and apparently succeeding.

Janake told him after hearing all of this, with a conspiratorial smile, “Here you were telling me that you know nothing, and yet, with the proper incentive, we find that you really actually know quite a lot. In fact, the more you tell me, the more convinced I am that you really are holding back vast stores of information.”

Janake then turned Mill vertical and had the guard remove him from the ring.  Water dripped from the entirety of his body and he was breathless and tired.  The cold water had aggravated the wounds on his back, which now stung with renewed freshness.  The guard helped him out of the room, while Janake told him, “That’ll be enough for today.  As reward for your cooperation, we’ll give you a break.  But we will be back tomorrow to continue and hopefully conclude this interrogation.”

The next day when Mill was brought into the room of interrogation, Janake again tied him to a chair, but this time he tied his hands in front of him and inserted his two thumbs into a small screw press that was placed over the knuckles of both of his thumbs.

“This one is really just a variation of the head press and the knee press,” Janake said as he turned the screw so that two wooden plates were pressed snuggly around his thumb-knuckles, “The people who design these instruments of torture aren’t really all that creative.  This one here will break your thumbs, if we have to continue tightening it for too long.  So, if you want to retain the use of your thumbs, I suggest you cooperate.  Right now I want you to tell me as much as you can about the Omnian strategy of conquest?  What regions are they trying to conquer?  How many soldiers do they have allocated for these missions?  Is it one dedicated company or several?  Are these troops active in and around Middle Park and Winter Park at present or have they returned to Sanlosslee Park?  How are they in communication with Lamosa?  Is there a line of communication?”

Mill gave what he thought would be plausible answers to some of these questions, but after a few sentences of hasty, stuttering confessions, Janake asked the guard to tighten.  The guard reached down and gave the screw a firm twist while Janake looked away.  The pain slowly rose in severity until it was at the threshold of Mill’s tolerance.  The two wooden boards pinched his thumbs like the clamp of a strong jaw.  Mill started to panic as the anticipation of even more severe pain overwhelmed him.

He tried to answer Janake again, tears now streaming from his eyes, but Janake wasn’t pacified, and another turn of the screw was applied while Janake cringed.  Mill now screamed with pain.  But the pain didn’t stop, it was steady and unremitting and only grew worse as the moments passed.  His bones were nearly at the point of being crushed and Mill desperately tried to persuade Janake that he was telling the truth.

“I like that you’re talking,” Janake told him, “But I don’t like that you’re still lying to me.”

Mill made some minor variations in the fabrications he provided and to his great relief these seemed to pacify Janake, who told the guard that he could loosen it a little.  Janake, though, still hadn’t had all his questions answers, and he repeated them.  Mill struggled to fabricate plausible lies.

Afterwards, when Mill was deposited in his cell, he rested his body on the floor and began to cry.  His thumbs were in pain and moved only with difficulty, but they hadn’t been broken.  He could only barely sleep in a light doze.

He was roused from sleep by the sound of a heavy weight being pounded against the door of his cell.  He was terrified of whatever it was out there and recoiled to the far end of his tiny cell, quivering with fear and crying profusely once again.

<-- Go to Part 101         Go to Part 103 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

Aresan Clan pt 102

Aresan Clan pt 101

The day after Mill’s punishment, he still waited in his cell, anticipating the moment when he would be released. Yet, time passed without a word or any attention being paid to him. It had all the appearance of him being entirely forgotten.

He discovered, though, that he had not been forgotten when the day after his cell was visited by the same guard that had always visited him, and he was hauled out of the prison into the same room of interrogation that he had visited before.

Janake was again there and he again sat across from Mill and explained the situation to him: “Aleck, we have brought you here to ask you a few more questions. It is my belief and the belief of some of my comrades that there is some information that might be relevant to us that is still hiding inside your head. So, if we might begin, I would like to ask you if you know when and where the next attack by the Omnia is scheduled to occur? Which village are they attacking and approximately how long before this is expected to happen?”

Mill squirmed in his chair as he heard this question and shouted back at Janake, “What is this? You were supposed to release me. That’s what you said! ”

“And there you are entirely correct,” Janake said, raising his eyebrows and staring at Mill with a fixed stare, “We are going to release, once you divulge all the information you have. So far you have been cooperative and we have given you a very lenient sentence in exchange. If you continue to be cooperative, then you’ll be out of here in no time. Now, as I was saying: where and when do you expect the next attack?”

“I don’t know,” Mill said, now squirming even more violently as he tried to pull himself out of the restraints that held him to the chair he was seated in. Mill rocked the chair back and forth and the guard had to hold him in place while Mill screamed through gritted teeth, “I’ve told you everything I know. If you’d just open your ears and hear what I’m saying. They told me almost nothing. I passed on information to them. Communication was entirely in one direction. Do you get it?”

As Mill spoke, Janake focused on carefully inspecting Mill’s face, which was red with rage. Once Mill finished, Janake simply sighed and said to Mill, “You’ve held things back from us before. Why should I trust you?” Aleck then gestured to the guard and told him, “Let’s start with the drowning tank.”

The guard untied Mill and led him towards the back of the room where the instruments of torture were located while Mill vigorously struggled against him. Janake explained as they walked, “I’m being quite forgiving today. The torture you’ll have to endure will do no permanent damage. But bear in mind that if you continue to resist, we will have to resort to some of the more brutal tortures, which will permanently disfigure you.” Janake then pointed to a screw press that was wide enough to put two legs through and explained, “That one, for example, will break your knees. You wouldn’t be able to walk anymore. I’d hate to have to use it. It’s really unpleasant for me to watch.” Janake pointed to another screw press that had a round cup on top and another smaller cup on bottom and he said, “That’s one for your head. People who get too intransigent in that one tend to lose all their teeth. Really ugly stuff.”

Mill was tied to a large ring while he stood vertically, his wrists and his ankles both securely affixed. He didn’t understand what this torture was about and was terrified with expectation. The ring was rotated so that he was horizontal and a water tank was pushed beneath him.

The guard lowered him, ring and all, into the tank. He squirmed about in a frantic attempt to free himself and get his mouth above the water. As the moments passed, the pain in his lungs intensified as his body screamed out for breath. He was abruptly lifted and he took a few quick breaths, which gave him a short respite, but then he was dropped back in and the torment began again.

When he was lifted a second time, Janake asked him, “Now are you going to talk?”

Mill immediately started spouting out anything he could think of that might convince them. He thought he remembered hearing of a small village even further summerward than Still Creek called Walton, and so he said, through rapid breaths that Walton was the next target and that they would be probably attacking after about twenty or thirty days.

Janake looked at him skeptically and said, “I’m not sure if I believe you,” and ordered for Janake to be dunked back into the water.

<-- Go to Part 100         Go to Part 102 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

The day after Mill’s punishment, he still waited in his cell, anticipating the moment when he would be released. Yet, time passed without a word or any attention being paid to him. It had all the appearance of him being entirely forgotten.

He discovered, though, that he had not been forgotten when the day after his cell was visited by the same guard that had always visited him, and he was hauled out of the prison into the same room of interrogation that he had visited before.

Janake was again there and he again sat across from Mill and explained the situation to him: “Aleck, we have brought you here to ask you a few more questions. It is my belief and the belief of some of my comrades that there is some information that might be relevant to us that is still hiding inside your head. So, if we might begin, I would like to ask you if you know when and where the next attack by the Omnia is scheduled to occur? Which village are they attacking and approximately how long before this is expected to happen?”

Mill squirmed in his chair as he heard this question and shouted back at Janake, “What is this? You were supposed to release me. That’s what you said! ”

“And there you are entirely correct,” Janake said, raising his eyebrows and staring at Mill with a fixed stare, “We are going to release, once you divulge all the information you have. So far you have been cooperative and we have given you a very lenient sentence in exchange. If you continue to be cooperative, then you’ll be out of here in no time. Now, as I was saying: where and when do you expect the next attack?”

“I don’t know,” Mill said, now squirming even more violently as he tried to pull himself out of the restraints that held him to the chair he was seated in. Mill rocked the chair back and forth and the guard had to hold him in place while Mill screamed through gritted teeth, “I’ve told you everything I know. If you’d just open your ears and hear what I’m saying. They told me almost nothing. I passed on information to them. Communication was entirely in one direction. Do you get it?”

As Mill spoke, Janake focused on carefully inspecting Mill’s face, which was red with rage. Once Mill finished, Janake simply sighed and said to Mill, “You’ve held things back from us before. Why should I trust you?” Aleck then gestured to the guard and told him, “Let’s start with the drowning tank.”

The guard untied Mill and led him towards the back of the room where the instruments of torture were located while Mill vigorously struggled against him. Janake explained as they walked, “I’m being quite forgiving today. The torture you’ll have to endure will do no permanent damage. But bear in mind that if you continue to resist, we will have to resort to some of the more brutal tortures, which will permanently disfigure you.” Janake then pointed to a screw press that was wide enough to put two legs through and explained, “That one, for example, will break your knees. You wouldn’t be able to walk anymore. I’d hate to have to use it. It’s really unpleasant for me to watch.” Janake pointed to another screw press that had a round cup on top and another smaller cup on bottom and he said, “That’s one for your head. People who get too intransigent in that one tend to lose all their teeth. Really ugly stuff.”

Mill was tied to a large ring while he stood vertically, his wrists and his ankles both securely affixed. He didn’t understand what this torture was about and was terrified with expectation. The ring was rotated so that he was horizontal and a water tank was pushed beneath him.

The guard lowered him, ring and all, into the tank. He squirmed about in a frantic attempt to free himself and get his mouth above the water. As the moments passed, the pain in his lungs intensified as his body screamed out for breath. He was abruptly lifted and he took a few quick breaths, which gave him a short respite, but then he was dropped back in and the torment began again.

When he was lifted a second time, Janake asked him, “Now are you going to talk?”

Mill immediately started spouting out anything he could think of that might convince them. He thought he remembered hearing of a small village even further summerward than Still Creek called Walton, and so he said, through rapid breaths that Walton was the next target and that they would be probably attacking after about twenty or thirty days.

Janake looked at him skeptically and said, “I’m not sure if I believe you,” and ordered for Janake to be dunked back into the water.

<-- Go to Part 100         Go to Part 102 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

Aresan Clan pt 101

Aresan Clan Summaries

I have added a series of summaries, each summing up ten parts (parts 1-10, parts 11-20, parts 21-30, etc) of the Aresan Clan serial in about 400 or so words. You can see the lot of them, under the "Summary Label." So, if you want to go back and quickly catch up on everything that's happened, or just review what you've read, it's there.

I have added a series of summaries, each summing up ten parts (parts 1-10, parts 11-20, parts 21-30, etc) of the Aresan Clan serial in about 400 or so words. You can see the lot of them, under the "Summary Label." So, if you want to go back and quickly catch up on everything that's happened, or just review what you've read, it's there.

Aresan Clan Summaries