Possessing the Grimstone - By John Grover Page 0,16
the sun was high. The horizon rose and fell with dunes and valleys. Sand ran its way to rocky surfaces and craters, jagged rock formations stretched to the sky in waves of coral and gold.
Red dust blew in hot wind and ravaged caravans as dust devils stirred, terrorizing the people. Little water was found here; trees dared not to lay down roots, and grass died a miserable death. Scaly creatures skittered among the stones.
Even at night, as it was now, the air was heavy and hot.
In the city of Glenghora, a structure fortified with stone and sand stood among the tents and hovels. Tribes gathered about the castle, drawing water from one of the few wells. They traded for fresh fruits and vegetables, wine, oils, medicines, and herbs, with precious stones mined from the rust-colored rock, as well as furs woven from their herds.
In the halls of the sand castle, Gyrn walked with hurried steps. He entered the throne room to set eyes on a mirror image of himself: his twin brother, Drith. On either side of his brother, two young girls fanned the ruler, painted in white and yellow to protect his skin from burning, and adorned in gold pins and piercings with rings on every finger and a talisman of pure black stone around his neck. His green eyes glinted in the light of the sconces. His lithe body rested, worn and drained, on a throne of cold stone.
Gyrn went to his brother and bowed on one knee. Drith made a gesture for his brother to rise. Gyrn handed him a goblet of wine.
“It’s warm,” Drith said.
“The bladder traveled in the sun all day.”
“Then why did you bring me it?”
“Would you rather thirst?”
“I’d rather have cold wine.”
“There is talk among the traders.”
“I do not care of gossip and women’s chatter.”
“You’ll care about this. The North is under siege.
Drith looked up, his eyes meeting his brother’s. A smirk crossed his lips. “Our truce with them not withstanding, this news tames the heat of our land, and that within my heart. Brother, I would not shed a tear should Bhrungach fall. I drink a toast, to the North’s just punishment.” He took a big gulp of wine.
“There is more…”
“I’m not sure what could be more tantalizing then what you have brought to my court.”
“The enemy comes from the mist in the east. It’s an unknown force of dark magic and monstrous beasts.”
“The east? The mist? Impossible. No ships have ever sailed through that mist, and none have returned that tried. What shadows could rise out of the void to take the North?”
“No one knows. They have just appeared. A scourge by night, their numbers are ever increasing. One knows not where they might stop.”
“What are you saying?”
“They are not of our land. They care not for any in their path. The stories tell that they are here to take us all.”
“Are you saying I should go to war to defend the North?”
Gyrn bowed his head, and then shook it slightly. “Of course not, Brother.”
“After all the damned council of Bhrungach has done? Their crimes of selfishness and betrayal!. How they have watched our people suffer in drought and famine! If it were not for the people of Norrow, or the city of Cardoon, we would be but a stain on the land… I would see them all burn and walk upon their charred…”
“Yes… yes… yes… we hear you, Brother. All of the kingdom hears you.” Gyrn cut off his brother’s tirade, despite the cold look the act bestowed him. “If I may suggest… wait for Bhrungach to fall, and then launch an attack against this new foe. Defeat them, and take the lands of the North as your own. The Lake Lands have already fallen.”
Drith’s eyes brightened. “A brilliant idea, dear Gyrn. I knew you were as devious as myself. You always feigned the more honorable one, the one Mother cherished above all else. But you have shadow inside you, too. I always knew it.”
Gyrn didn’t answer. Instead, he bowed his head and exited the throne room. He heard his brother snarl behind him, a sound most would take as contempt or anger, but for Drith, it was a sign of contentment, even joy. The very thought of seizing the lands of the North stoked the fire inside Drith. Gyrn was pleased with himself; their truce with the North had lasted too long.
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