Tales of Earth and Sky: a work in progress

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Tales of Earth and Sky
Chapter I. The wayfarer

It had been a long and difficult year. The crops had been scarce, there had been raids and rumours of wars and dragons in the north, of fires and floods in the south. Trade had fallen to a trickle. The people of Little Delving had seldom known such a year.
For Gallifer though, it had been a year chiefly memorable for being the one in which he first met the Ildera’an. Little Delving seldom had visitors from further than three miles away, but the moment Gallifer saw the Ildera’an he sensed that the traveller had come from further away than he could begin to conceive. Immensely
The principality of Ildera’a lay many leagues to the south of the Realm of the Free Counties, in which the hamlet of Little Delving lay. Most travellers from there to Free Counties only visited the coastal regions, some of the more southerly cities, and the capital Ri’arch, but this Ildera’an had come several leagues further north.
His dark bronze face was engraved with deep furrows, mapping a life riven with sorrows and tribulations. His cloak was sage green with streaks of grey. His eyes were set deep within their sockets, and wore an impenetrable expression, except occasionally when a glint of emotion would peek through.
Gallifer had always been a quiet, withdrawn child, with few friends and fewer still his own age. He had been out in the woods near the village, having completed his chores for the day. He often withdrew there, as he felt more at home there than amongst crowds in the village. When he first sensed that he was not alone, he assumed with irritation that it must be one of the other village children come to torment him, but then it occurred to him that generally they would make more noise than the as yet unseen presence appeared to be making. Gallifer halted, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. He then slowly moved behind a tree and halted again, peering through the branches.

The figure he saw carried an air of unmistakable authority, unlike anyone he had ever met before. For a moment both stood in silence, Gallifer hardly daring to breathe, then the stranger enquired, “Is this the usual way they greet wayfarers in these parts?”
His voice, though relatively quiet, conveyed a sense of authority.
“N-no sir, begging you pardon sir, but I just wasn’t expecting to find anyone else here just now,” stammered Gallifer, shocked that the stranger had seen him.
“I have travelled for many months, and had expected to receive some hospitality here, yet the first of the inhabitants of this village to meet me does not even deign to come into my presence to address me face to face.”
“I’m terribly sorry sir, but I was so startled to find someone else here that I quite forgot my manners.”
“Seldom have I heard a poorer excuse. When one is startled it is all the more imperative to remember one’s manners, as the one who has alarmed one may be particular about such matters, and if they have startled one it may not be without good reason.”
The voice sounded stern, but from a twinkle in the previously inexpressive eyes Gallifer began to suspect that the stranger might not be as angry as he had at first thought. This emboldened him to approach the stranger and bid him welcome to Little Delving. The manner of the stranger at once mellowed.
“And could you tell me young sir where I might find a place to stay for the night?”

And so it was that Gallifer came to be leading the stranger in the direction of his own home, wondering as he went how his parents would react.


Chapter II. The raging sea
The lone figure stood upon the cliffs of the rocky shores of Westferness, staring out at the turbulent deep. The watcher was shrouded in a grey cloak and sage green mantel, and the age and gender of this solitary sentinel were not readily discernible. They had been standing that way for some considerable time, with little if any discernible change in their posture. At length a second figure emerged, seemingly from the ground near the other’s feet.
“And what kind of location for a rendez-vous do you call this?” muttered the newcomer.
“I might equally enquire what method of arrival you call that,” replied the other with irritating calm and sangfroid. “You know the use of theurgy and thaumaturgy of any kind in this realm is likely to be quickly noticed by our old friends, those interfering busy-bodies the Asynchronous.”
“Friends!” scoffed the recently ascended earth-mage. “Mortal enemies more like.”
“I was employing facetiousness, a technique that I had not expected you to appreciate. Nor did you disappoint me,” rejoined his companion, a slender and supercilious air-and-fire mage who was now revealed to be of most definitely feminine gender.

“I was employing facetiousness, a technique that I had not expected you to appreciate. Nor did you disappoint me,”



This is funny!

I like that she is "slender and supercilious" - I have a thing for using words that start with the same letters too, aka consonance

“There is no need to be rude about it. You know as well as I do why I should hardly find them matter for humour.”
“Just because they may be responsible for the devastation of our homeworld is no reason why they should not provide us with innocent merriment.”
“Innocent! I doubt you know the meaning of the word!”
“All the more reason for displaying more than your customary prudence, friend Argub.”
“If sorcery is imprudent, the use of any name by which we have been well known is hardly less so.”
“After the one the other scarcely matters. Besides I have shrouded us, using the potency already in the air to avoid attracting further unwelcome notice.”

The two figures ceased their conversing for a moment to again look out to sea, where a storm was steadily rising swept in from the west. They sensed that it did not bode well for their enterprise, and consequently took precautionary measures.


Chapter III. The Library

In a vault deep below the Court of the Seers in Kîr-Játhoth, a city near the centre of Alándûr, innermost of the lands of the continent of ’Areth Mo‘er upon the world of Ardhír, lay the Tombs of the Unnumbered. Deeper still below these storied sepulchres lay the Library of the Accursed Kings, the collection of which consists principally of the Chronicles of Ardhir and the Prophecies of Tel ’Emun, the Mound of Truth in Yesh-Ya’aqov, a remote but not insignificant province of the puissant Khêled ‘Azím Empire. The Library has few patrons, seldom frequented by more than three scholars at a time, and more commonly by one or none at all. Those who consulted the Library showed their respect for the Departed of the Tombs by accessing the hallowed halls of the repository by a hidden route that bypassed the many tiered graves, the entrance of which was known to few and revealed to the uninitiated only if one was growing tired of life.

One grey evening in the dark of the year one such scholar was searching the leaves of one of the more obscure volumes of the Prophecies, constantly leafing back and forth, frequently making a frustrated, guttural sound, much to the disapproval of the hovering Keeper of the Tomes, who felt that the sound lacked the proper spirit of silent reverence that patrons of the oldest remaining library in Ardhir should display.

Thank you for your comments. I had intended to introduce a little humour here and there. I thought consonance was more commonly known as alliteration. By the way, I intend to do more work on the second chapter, it was just that the idea for the start of the third came to me, and after some work with my mother in the garden I could not wait to type it down.

Correction: for Alandûr, read Athrándûr.

Like the idea of a seldomly-visited library I am always fascinated by ancient libraries stuffed with books, so this is a very appealing idea.
I think you are right, it is alliteration, I messed up my terms