Chapter Twenty One
Five dawns after obtaining the level of Doci amongst the Celesti, Tyrone had still managed to hold from the Shadow the secret of achieving that status. In his mind Tyrone was rating this a rather important victory, but he had no illusions that the Shadow would simply let it lie out of good will, as if good will and the Shadow were comfortable mates in the same thought, let alone in the world!

Still there was also a slight amount of respect from his dark friend now that it had become clear Tyrone had won his long pursuit of Krenchi. Though to be sure there was always some new comment when she joined the men at the end of the day. It was not in the Shadow to let any situation go untested by the sharpness of his spelon tongue.

These were the thoughts that orbited Tyrone’s need to find the Shadow this mid-day. There were things the two men needed to talk about, things both had thought long settled on the night they were so ingloriously cast into the valley of the Celesti by a flood.

Tyrone knew the City just well enough to find his way to the district where the Vernita sept had many of their forges and workshops. Unlike the Shadow, Tyrone was not at all embarrassed to throw himself on the good nature of the local craftsmen. Soon enough he found himself standing in the open wall of a workshop watching the Shadow being instructed in the method of thinning and sharpening an axe head. After a moment or two Saltori Trasbello look up from watching one of his master crafters instruct the Shadow and noticed Tyrone. Leaving the men to their work the big smith walked over to Tyrone.

Chapter Twenty

Trasbello walked with all of his clan this night. He had no doubts as to the will of the Chositha. Under his leadership they had been the voice for the traditions that he and all the Celesti had been raised with. When the question had been put to those that had not attended the previous nights meeting, there had been only a handful that made the argument for the breaking of silence. Of those five had been assigned by Trasbello himself to make sure that all points of view were known before the vote.

As he could have predicted, the Chositha were overwhelmingly against this risky change in policy. But even with this victory in his hands, his stomach was tight, and his brows were furrowed. He was enough of a realist to know that what the Chositha choose was not always the way that the Celesti as a whole would choose.

He had seen how well Getovan and Brother Carlinus had played to those who had little status among their clans. It was entirely possible that the leaders of the other clans would be forced to bow to the choice of their followers. No clan could be lead without the consent of those that followed. It was one of the core truths of the Celesti way of life, and Trasbello was not one to forget. Had he not become the youngest Saltori by that very reasoning? All day long he had sent his Methodenon’s and Delmorael’s to speak to their counter-parts in the other clans, trying to counter the influence of the Sczenchi. He did none of this politicking himself, it would not have been proper for him to use his position to try to sway the views of those not in his clan.

Not that it stopped Getovan, he thought darkly. He’d had many reports of the Saltori’s words and deeds that day. It did not really surprise him. Anyone that would not only willingly break the silence, but propose it before the Council, was not a true leader of the Celesti.

It worried Trasbello that he would think so, but had he not heard similar thoughts from others under him? Still, it gave him no pleasure to think what it might mean for the Celesti that one of their leaders thought more of power than preservation of his people. That thought lead to the possibility of an open rift in the leadership, and while he did not know that this must happen, if it did the Saltori of the Chositha knew it meant bad trouble and hard times for the Celesti if it came about.

Happy Saturday and welcome to the 19th installment of Dark Soul. For those who have just joined this series this is a draft of a novel I have been writing (for way too long if the truth be told!). I am posting it here in serialized form in the hopes of getting some feed back.

If you are indeed just joining this series you can find the previous chapters at the links below. I am treating this as a learning experience so any comments good, bad or indifferent are completely welcome.

Chapter Eighteen

When one is occupied with new things, time seems to fly on the very wings of an eagle. This was certainly the case for Tyrone. As he walked down the Street of the Clay, where the Pathri made much of their jars and bowls, he could not believe how much he had become part of the life of the City. Even on this street, which was one that he did not often travel, he saw and greeted Celesti that he knew.

In the last three weeks Sly Tongue had become a name known to many in the city. With his easy going manner and a seemingly endless store of funny stories from his life out beyond the mountains, Tyrone was welcome at nearly every eating hall in the city. He was even starting to look more like one of the Celesti, as he acquired his own, lefteat, the sashed garment worn by all Doci in the City. He had been given the clothes by the grateful members of the Kethalan, for giving two of his steel knives to the small group of butchers.

Even though the Shadow had taken to calling him ‘The Irish Magi’ and kept asking when he was going to really help the people of the City and give his tongue away as well, Tyrone was really starting to feel that this place could be a home. He had not felt that way since the day that he left his Da’s Keep. It was unsettling to think that he might fit better among a people that he had not known existed, than with those of his own family and native land.

Shaking his head to clear it of uncomfortable thoughts, Tyrone turned left onto the Colored Lane, and dodging around a group of squat Barchare, still dusty from the days mining, he spotted the cozy Chifalow dinning hall were he was to meet Heltiase. And there striding down the street, a good head and shoulders over the crowd was the man himself.

Heltiase’s eyes meet Tyrone’s and the older man nodded and waved to him, urging speed. Curious Tyrone quickened his steps and was shortly standing next to the Chifalow Telethan. “Hail, Heltiase.”

Happy Saturday and welcome to the fifteenth installment of Dark Soul. For those who have just joined this series this is a draft of a novel I have been writing (for way too long if the truth be told!). I am posting it here in serialized form in the hopes of getting some feed back.

Chapter Sixteen

There was no doubt in the Shadow’s mind, he was lost. He had left the House of Summer with a clear destination in mind, a dining hall of the Chositha that he had seen the night before, on his way to the House. It had seemed a simple enough route, two lefts, a right , then angle down a three way intersection to the right, but those steps had taken him to a street that he had never seen before.

Having no knowledge of where he was, nor where his destination was, the Shadow made the logical choice, he would ask for help. But he would not throw himself on the mercy of just any Celesti, no, he wanted help from his clan or not at all. Logic is all well and good, but pride, that is something that will make you work extra hard at simple things.

So, the Shadow leaned his back against the nearest wall and watched the people walking by. Trasbello was a smith, one of the Vernita sept. So he was looking for any man that looked as though he was a smith too. This would be a member of his new clan, and could tell him where a dinning hall for the Chositha was, and direct him to Trasbello’s shop in the Street of the Hammered Metal.

He waited and watched as several likely men go by, but one looked so much like a smith that he made is move. The man coming down the street was nearly as broad as he was tall. His thick neck seemed to blend directly into his massive shoulders. His torso moved in that way that suggests that all of the flesh under his clothes was solid muscle, and that they pulled against each other, each one trying to dominate the others. On his head sat a mane of hair, brown warring with sun streaks of nearly blond amongst the wavy curls. His face was half covered with a closely clipped beard, that served to emphasize the strong plains of his cheeks, falling to the hard line of his jaw. This was the kind of man the Shadow had been waiting for.

Stepping away from his wall, the Shadow came and stood directly in front of this impressively muscled man. “Hail, and good morning. I do not mean to interrupt you, but you are a Vernita, are you not?”

The man studied the Shadow quietly for a moment and then said in a surprisingly high pitched voice, “Now, what, exactly, would make you think that I am a Vernita?”

Chapter Fifteen

It was long after dark when Brother Carlinus was lead up to the House of Summer by one of Getovan’s junior Sczenchi. As they approached they saw light in many of the windows, and laughter of several people floated out of the open doorway to greet them.

p>“ I think I will go in alone, Jalbin. There is no need for you to come inside,” said Brother Carlinus to the young man.

“As you wish, Brother Carlinus,” said Jalbin with a bow. “Sleep well.”

Brother Carlinus did not wait to see the Sczench walk away, but instead made is own way up to the gate and then to the door of the House of Summer. Inside he could hear that the talking was coming from the room that they had breakfasted in. As he stepped to the door way he saw that more than just Tyrone and the Shadow were there.

Around the fire sat his two traveling partners, and the young woman with the amazing long hair. To her right was a wizened old man with sharp eyes and a bent back. On the other side of the fire sat the Garshon that had come to rescue Tyrone from his foolish pride, what was his name? Just as Brother Carlinus entered Heltiase looked up and noticed him.

“Well, here is the last of your group, home and safe!” The others all looked up and saw the priest standing in the doorway.

“Brother Carlinus!” shouted Tyrone, though there was no need. “Come and join us. We were just having some of this fine beer and Krenchi and Trelievence have been telling us some of the, um, less commonly approved stories!”

“Stories I would have, and a bit of the beer would not sit poorly. But, perhaps you have had too much already?” asked Brother Carlinus archly. This received a loud laugh from the rest of the room. Brother Carlinus came and sat by the Shadow, nodding his hello’s to all in the room.

“We were starting to wonder if you had gotten lost, Brother Carlinus,” said Heltiase. “Have you eaten yet? We have bread and fruit, in addition to the beer”

“Thank you, ah, Master Heltiase, but no. I had my supper with Saltori Getovan and his Sczenchi, some time ago.”

“See? I told you the good Brother would not miss a meal. At least in a city this size,” said the Shadow. This earned him a sour look from both Heltiase and Tyrone.

“All the better to keep my strength up for fighting the ungodly,” said Brother Carlinus. Tyrone rolled his eyes at toward Heltiase, as if to say ‘See what I have to put up with?’. Older man opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by his friend Trelievence.

Chapter Fourteen

By the time they reached the school, the sun was behind the walls of the valley, casting the City into a bright twilight. The sky above was full of light, but the houses and streets were deep in shadow. It gave the city, to Tyrone’s mind, a feeling of being in the world but not of it. He could understand why the Celesti did not feel much of a need to know what the world outside the valley was like. It was a feeling that while the day may end, the night was long in coming, though of course, he would not have said it that way.

The school they arrived at was divided into three large rooms. The first room, Heltiase explained, was for the youngest of the children. The youngest children here had barley been weaned from their mothers breasts, while the oldest children were no more than five years old. It was a noisy place with filled with toys and large, soft pillows. Here the children learned to play and cooperate with each other under the guidance of their teachers.

Heltiase could not have been a stranger to this school. The moment that his tall bald figure was seen by the little ones he was surrounded by five or six of them insisting on telling him of their day, asking to be picked up, or demanding that he come see something. Bowing to the inevitable, he suggested that Tyrone and the Shadow look around for themselves.

Happy Saturday and welcome to the latest installment in the serialization of Dark Soul!

If you’re just peeking into this series for the first time, you can find the previous chapters at the links below

If you have not been following this sterilization, you can find the previous twelve chapters at these links:

Dark Soul, Chapter One
Dark Soul, Chapter Two
Dark Soul, Chapter Three
Dark Soul, Chapter Four
Dark Soul, Chapter Five
Dark Soul, Chapter Six
Dark Soul, Chapter Seven
Dark Soul, Chapter Eight
Dark Soul, Chapter Nine
Dark Soul, Chapter Ten
Dark Soul, Chapter Eleven
Dark Soul, Chapter Twelve

As always any reactions good or bad are very welcome. This is a learning experience for me, so if you have an opinion I’d like to have it.

Chapter Thirteen

Tyrone and the Shadow followed Heltiase as he took them up a street that led deeper into the City. After they had walked for a few minutes in silence, Heltiase stopped and turned to look at the two men. “I have only one question for the two of you; is it your intention to kick over every bucket of swill in the whole City of Rushing Water, or only the ones directly in front of you?”

Chapter Twelve

Getovan strode up the cobbled street, walking with angry strides, and apologizing to Brother Carlinus. “You must forgive Zelibothir, Brother. She is young and finds comfort only in the things that have been the same for her whole life. She does not have the level of respect that she should for those that hold the knowledge of the god. She did not mean to offend you,”

“I think that you stretch the truth with that, my friend. The young woman meant to offend, most surly she did. But don’t trouble yourself about it, I have traveled with a servant of the Enemy, and a man whose faith has not been tutored sufficiently. I do not take these jabs seriously. In time all will see the truth of the Lord, and come to the light,”

Tyrone and the Shadow caught up to the two men at that point. Getovan took a deep breath and collected himself. After taking a deep breathe and let it out in a great sigh. His composure regained he turned back to the travelers.

“I think that next we should see the some of the sept’s workshops. If you are willing to walk a bit we can see the Pathri make their pottery.” The men all nodded and Getovan turned left and set off down one of the side streets.

The lane they followed slopped down and they soon found themselves in on the first level of the city, in the half-circle nearest to the soaring cliff face that formed the absolute limit of the City of Rushing Waters. Here along what might have been the original river bed, there where four large clay pits, three of which were in active use.