(story) Future's Shadow: Part Two
Lis Morris
Chapter Two: In Suspicious Circumstances.
Spring gave way to a gloriously hot summer in Albia, and the flower meadow
bloomed brighter than it ever, or so it seemed. A group of norns sat among
the fragrant flowers, listening to Annie weaving a yarn. She was telling one
of the favourite stories among the younger norns, and she was an excellent
story teller. Expansive gestures and an expressive voice combined to
captivate her audience.
"… the Hand was both wise and foreseeing. When the plague came, we found It
had left special instructions for Chris and myself. Remember that at this
time it was not known to anyone but the Hand that Chris was to be Its
successor, but so the Hand had chosen.
"When the time comes," It told Chris and I, raising Itself high above us so
that It as black against the sky, "You will find what you need on the Ettin
Islands. Annie is the only norn able to fetch it, Chris is the only norn
able to use it." After saying this, it fluttered down to land, far out in
the savannah, never to soar the skies of Albia again." Her voice held a
theatrical melancholy. Chris, sat cross-legged at the edge of the crowd,
caught her gaze and rolled his eyes. She acknowledged his gesture with a
fast wink. In fact, they had simply found the Hand, motionless, silent,
lying out in the savannah one spring, 13 days ago now, and that grand speech
had never happened- there was simply a neat note in a curiously angular
script waiting for them back at the house they had shared at that time. The
Hand was still there to this day- apparently unchanging, not subject to the
normal laws of entropy that made a norn’s body disappear after its death.
Few ventured into the haunted savannah now.
However, the norns in the crowd were silent, transfixed by Annie’s tale.
After a short dramatic pause, she continued.
"Many norns died in the plague. People dropped where they were standing,
right in the middle of NornTown, and all inhabitants fled to the deserts, or
here, to the meadow. Only one brave norn stayed, to fight the plague: the
Hand norn, Chris. He stayed to battle it, and keep it from spreading to all
of Albia.
"I fled east, to the ocean, following the Hand’s dying request. There I
caught the boat that sails over the sea to the Islands, to look for the Hand
’s legacy for the norns It cherished.
"When I reached the Islands, the norns who lived there were waiting for me,
and a strange group they were too. They were tall- and dark coloured. Some
of them had purple fur, and even purple eyes."
"Purple eyes?" said a wide eyed child at the front.
"Yes, Angela. They’re very different from us. I didn’t realise just how
different until I met their island companions, the grendels and the ettin.
"We all thought, before I went to the islands, that grendels were a myth, a
tale from Prehistoric Albia, an extinct race, but no, they’re alive and live
peacefully with the ettin and norns under one leader who commands all the
creatures on the islands." She stopped suddenly at this point, interrupted
by an insistent beeping from the Plaque in Chris’ hands. He smiled
sheepishly, and hurried off to see what the emergency warning had been
about.
When Chris got back, the story was just finishing.
"… and that day, Chris first used his powers as the Hand norn, and Albia
was safe again."
Chris cringed inwardly as all eyes turned towards him. He smiled weakly.
Slowly, the crowds began to drift away, some back to NornTown, others into
the Forest.
"Annie, can you help me?" asked Chris. Annie looked up. He had that
troubled, empty look she knew of old. Of all the norns in Albia, she
probably came closest to understanding him, although after all these days he
still had many unfathomable depths.
"What’s wrong? Is someone ill?" she asked.
Chris shook his head sadly. "Dead. An Islander norn. I was wondering if you
knew her. Her name is…" he frowned and squinted at the Plaque again.
"Yen-bru? I think that’s how you pronounce it."
Annie’s eyes widened in recognition. "Ynbru?" She pronounced the beginning
‘Y’ as a vowel, not a consonant. " She was their leader. She must have been
very old by now."
"She was 33 days old. She didn’t die of old age though- that’s what’s
worrying me. It says here she had high quantities of alkaloid in her
system."
"Alkaloid?"
"A poison, found in Nightshade, and Aconite, for example."
"She would know better than to eat them!"
Chris nodded grimly. "That’s what I thought. This is very bad. Someone has
poisoned the leader of the Islanders. I don’t like it one bit."
Annie bit her lip. Chris was right. There seemed to be trouble brewing on
the Islands.
Ynbru’s funeral was a quiet affair, as were all Islander funerals. Her two
daughters, Ynlar and Xhale, carried her body to the seashore, as a dour drum
beat echoed over the waters. They laid her carefully into the salty water,
so slowly that there was not even a single splash. This done, Ynlar sighed
and turned to the watching crowd of Albians- not just all the norns, but the
four ettin and two grendels too. One of the grendels, Graol, spoke.
"Now we need to find another leader." He rumbled.
"We have not had an ettin leader for many days." Said Fel, in her high,
singsong, ettin voice. "Maybe we should have one now."
Ynlar shook her head. "Ynbru told me many times she wanted Llanyb to rule
once she was gone. I think we should honour that."
The norns and grendels readily agreed, as did the one male ettin. The female
ettin looked hesitant, then finally agreed. Llanyb shivered. He had never
fully trusted the ettin. Those dark eyes were just too unreadable. He had
the feeling they had never trusted him, either.
"I’m glad you chose me. I have great plans for us all. Ideas that will
change our lives greatly for the better…"
And they listened raptly to their new leader.
Chapter 3: Distant Thunder.
"The hand has been dead more than half my life. Yet I still find myself
thinking: I must go and ask the Hand about something or other." He looked at
the forlorn shrine. The hot wind had blown away most of the flowers that
were laid there every spring, but a few brown twigs remained in the blasting
heat of the summer. The air was so hot, here in the savannah, it was
difficult to breathe. Both he and Annie panted to let off heat, for norns
did not sweat.
"I only knew the Hand for a short time, but It taught me a lot. I know what
you mean." She said distantly. She slipped her hand into his, her mind not
on the sombre subject of the Hand’s death any more. What was it about Chris
that just made her want to throw herself at him? She had always been
attracted to the exotic, the different, and the unique. Chris was certainly
all three of those, although she doubted this was the full reason. Deep
down, she’d always suspected that he cared for her in a way that she couldn’
t even begin to comprehend, a way that maybe only another Hand norn would
understand.
There was also, of course, the fact, that even old and grey, he was very
handsome. His unusual blond fur and brilliant green eyes were a stunning
combination. Many of the females were interested in him, but he had never
even shown that he had noticed them. Annie drew closer to him, and gently
stroked the fur on the crests of his ears. He sighed and closed his eyes in
pleasure.
"You really know how to ruin my concentration" he said, and smiled. He
turned his full attention to her, pulling her to him, and nuzzling her neck.
"Chris!" Annie heard a muffled oath from the vicinity of her neck. He drew
away, and faced the young norn who had called.
"What is it, Yvonne?" She was out of breath, and looked as if she had run
all the way here from NornTown.
"Come quickly," she gasped, "There’s an Islander in the town! She’s asking
for the leader, so we sent for you!"
"An Islander? I’m coming!" Chris exclaimed, and both he and Annie ran after
Yvonne, who was already speeding back to the town, rapidly outdistancing the
two older norns.
Ynlar paced backwards and forwards, waiting. Llanyb was right; the Mainland
was far more luxurious and richer than the Islands. These houses were full
of comforts, and the variety of food and drink was staggering. Yes, she
could just imagine living here.
The Mainlanders looked small, their fur curiously washed out in colour to
her eyes. They also looked well fed, and healthier. It was very easy to be
envious.
There was some muttering in the crowd, and they parted to let a greying,
scrawny looking norn through. He looked so fragile Ynlar was sure she could
have snapped him in half with one hand, but there was a look of
determination in his eyes, the look of one used to getting his own way. In a
way, he reminded her of Llanyb, there was the same somber look to the eyes,
although he didn’t have that frightening coldness that she sometimes saw in
Llanyb. He held out a hand. She ignored it pointedly, and he shrugged and
withdrew it.
"I’m Chris. I’m the closest thing we’ve got to a leader. It’s nice to meet
an Islander norn, finally. Annie has told me all about you."
She ignored this attempt at conversation, as Llanyb had instructed her.
"Llanyb, our new leader, send me to deliver a message to you." She cleared
her throat. "We, the Islanders, will no longer tolerate living under the
poor conditions you have forced upon us. We demand you vacate NornTown, in
order for us to inhabit it. Even though we are smaller in number, we believe
we have a stronger force than yours. Leave now, or you will suffer." With
that, she turned on her heels, and stalked off, grimly satisfied with the
uproar she left behind her.
"What do we do now?" Matthew shouted above the noise. He ran a hand
nervously through his green tinted hair.
"Isn’t it obvious? I can remember something like this happening. There was
a norn called Mark. He was…" Chris stopped. He was going to say ‘a mutant’
but that was exactly what he was, and he didn’t like to draw attention to
the fact unnecessarily. "… not normal. He attacked everyone, and everything.
Do you remember the baby he killed?" The older norns in the audience nodded,
sadly.
"We leave, now, before they come. We can hide in the savannah. There’s
insects and fruits we can eat there." He shrugged.
"What?" yelled Annie. "Let them take over our homes, just give up?"
"You know that they have grendels on their side. Why not just run, and save
our lives? It’s stupid to stay!"
"So what if they have grendels? We have you, Chris. You and your Plaque. I
know you can inject just about anything with it." she pointed out. "Get rid
of the Islanders, and the problem is solved." She laughed, lightly. Chris
spun around to face her, and his expression made her back away.
"Murder? You want me to murder those norns?" he said, his voice rising in
volume. "Never! I heal, I don’t kill. What you’re suggesting is sick, and I
won’t be a part of it!" He gave her one last disgusted look, and walked away
from the group of stunned norns.
Chris was so angry he could barely breathe. He stalked back to his house to
get his Plaque. He and David were leaving, no matter what happened. There
were caves under the desert which grew mushrooms and had various edible
invertebrates in them. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but they’d survive.
He entered his house. Two norns stepped out of the shadows behind him. He
recognised them as Charlotte and Peter. They had heard his outburst, and
there was a distinct air of menace about them.
"What are you doing here?" demanded Chris, too angry for politeness.
"Making sure you help us." Peter grinned nastily. Chris made a sudden,
impulsive grasp for his Plaque, lying on its shelf, but Charlotte grabbed
his arm in an iron grip.
"Oh no you don’t," she whispered. She tightened her grip, and Chris moaned
softly in pain. "We’re not letting you get away that easily."
Without further ado, Peter grabbed his other arm, and they dragged him
backwards out of the house.
End of Part Two.
Why does Chris always have such a rotten time? Tomorrow I will post part
three.
Emy S.
>
<snip great story>
>
> End of Part Two.
>
> Why does Chris always have such a rotten time? Tomorrow I will post part
> three.
Eeek! I like it!! Post part 3 now!!! <g>
--
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Erida/Iris/Nemesis)
Probably more as I think of them!
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"From the persistence of noise comes the insistence of rage. From the
emergence of tone comes the divergence of thought. From the
enlightenment of music comes the wisdom of... silence."
~~Gregorian Chants
Remove the obvious to reply.
(In case it isn't obvious, look up!)
(And if it's still not obvious, remove the "hehe." to reply!)
Pinstar1
Erin: great story? I'm waiting for pt3
--
Bad spellers of the world... Untie!
Antonia Blair
>>
>End of Part Two.
>
>Why does Chris always have such a rotten time? Tomorrow I will post part
>three.
OOOooooh wow! This is excellent.
::::runs off singing "tomorrow I read part three!"::::
Tonia
~~~~~~
"I'm writing a book. Got all the page numbers done."
"Stupidity is NOT a handicap! PARK ELSEWHERE."
"To err is human; to blame it on someone else is
more then human."
"When you're walking on thin ice, you might as well
dance!"
~~~~~~~
NORNGod (D. Styring)
it a lot. Now i just have to search for part 1 <g>
NORNGod (D. Styring)
nor...@hotmail.com
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Drew Styring's HomePage (Personal)
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mae...@nospam.demon.co.uk
wrote:
>Chapter Two: In Suspicious Circumstances.
Oooh. I liked it. :^) I find it interesting when someone
imagines how the norns might feel about the Hand...
Mae Tang
(replace "nospam" with "nu-it" for a valid e-mail address)
Mike Davisson
Lis Morris <lis_m...@msn.com> wrote in article
<01bdb701$bdf45a80$f38c...@inlink.com>...
> Note: Sorry about the lack of formatted paragraphs- blame Word.
You could search and replace the tabs with five space, or something like that.
>
{snip}
>
> Why does Chris always have such a rotten time? Tomorrow I will post part
> three.
I don't know. Quit asking me questions so I can read it! :)