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Single Author Stories / Valfaran and the Shadows of the Azure Sun
« on: July 27, 2007, 11:29:27 am »
Years ago, in a humble abode not far from the Bronze Gates, lived the family Quelfaran. In their Enkidukai village, they led a relatively happy life, the mother an apothecary, and the father an explorer of the Stone Labyrinth and chieftain of their community.
The young Valfaran, like her father Quelnao, quickly developed a love for the Labyrinth, as well as an adventurous spirit that was difficult to tame. As soon as she was old enough, the adolescent Enkidukai would go off on explorations of her own, and as a result, quickly became familiar with the nearest tunnels and caverns. A collection of maps and charts soon covered the walls of her sleeping quarters, all made by her own careful paw on her frequent trips to the Stone Labyrinth.
One day, upon returning from one of these trips, Valfaran discovered two strange Ylian men sitting across from her parents in the central room of her home. Gaze shifting worriedly from her parents’ terse expressions to the stony faces of the strange men, the adolescent Enkidukai asked a pointed question: “Who are these men, Papa? Mama? What are they doing here?”
Standing from his place, the first Ylian man gave a curt bow and lifted his gaze to meet Valfaran’s challenging stare, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. “I am a servant of Farun-Leha. I have come to,” he paused meaningfully, straightening his posture, “negotiate with your father.”
Quelnao held up a broad paw and smiled his typical benevolent smile. “They are here to settle our territory problems. We hope to work out a deal so that all our people will be able to keep their homes and continue to make a living off of their land.”
Valfaran shook her head slowly and stepped backwards, paw moving quickly to the dagger sheathed at her waist. She loved her father dearly, but understood that the flaw in his expansive goodness was his overwhelming – often too generous – trust in others. “These men are no parchment-shuffling politicians, Papa. I fear they are not here to talk.”
With a low, jeering laugh, the second Ylian stood up. “Clever child,” he growled, drawing the long blade sheathed at his side. With one clean motion, he thrust his sword into Quelnao’s unprotected stomach. “Pity your father wasn’t so keen.”
Valkitha gave a strangled cry, stumbling out of her chair and away from the second man. The first Ylian drew his own blade and advanced on the Enkidukai mother.
”Run, Valfaran!” cried the distraught Valkitha, who was torn between fleeing for her life and caring for her dying husband. Valfaran instead stood, drawing her dagger.
”No, Mama, I won’t go without you!” However, she did not act upon her words, as the pleading look in her mother’s eyes shook her into motion. As if suddenly unchained, she tore across the room and out the door, fleeing from the strange men and the tomb she once called a home.
Before she could reach the center of the tiny agrarian village, her legs gave way and she crawled into the shadows of the gnarled roots of an old tree that shaded the dirt path. There the young Enkidukai huddled, shivering, tears streaming unchecked down her face. Only one thought pounded in her head: Why?
Finally, after what seemed like an age, Valfaran stood and hobbled apprehensively up the hill, afraid of what she already knew was true. When she pushed the door gently open with a tremulous hand, the chilling silence inside told clearly that the men had left. The smell of blood and death hung oppressively in the air. Valfaran stepped forward, her heart pounding at the sight she knew she would have to see.
Valkitha lay on the floor, two clean stab wounds in her chest and stomach, a pool of crimson staining the woven grass mat that covered the floor. Eyes closed, her face was frozen in an expression of grief. Valfaran bowed her head respectfully, stepping past the body to her father. To her surprise, ragged breaths came unsteadily from the gaping mouth of Quelneo. His only child knelt down, cradling his head in her lap.
”Papa, Papa, no,” she whispered hoarsely, “You’ll be all right! I can get a healer from the village, Papa, we can fix you up! We can fix this!” The noble Enkidukai shook his head slowly and coughed, blood dribbling down the corners of his mouth. His once strong and handsome features now looked strangely old and grizzled, twisted with the pain of the physical and emotional wounds of his betrayal.
“No, little one, my child,” he rasped, his once-strong hands grasping his daughter’s feebly. “My time is over. It is yours now; live it to its fullest. Promise me you’ll remember something for me, Valfaran.” The young Enkidukai nodded quickly, wanting nothing but to heed her father?s wishes. “Promise me you’ll remember,” he suffered briefly a fit of coughing, staining his shirt further with blood, “Even the Azure Sun casts its shadows...” His voice trailed off.
”No, Papa, no…” Valfaran’s voice trailed to the most tattered of whispers. Taking one last rattling breath, Quelnao smiled faintly as his gaze grew distant. “Talad waits for me now. His embrace is warm and everlasting. Your mother waits as well. I do not fear death; only that you should see me again too soon. Just...remember…even the Azure Sun…” With that, the brave Enkidukai went limp, the traces of a smile still lingering on his lips.
Bodies, soulless shells of the dead, were never treated with particular reverence in this land. Something in Valfaran moved her to give her parents a proper funeral. Perhaps it was the fear of letting others see her parents in the state they were in. She placed the bodies next to each other and did her best to make her mother and father look respectable. She draped them with the tapestry that had hung on the wall, depicting the bronze gates and bordered with images of the creatures – mythical and real – said to reside there. After gathering up the few necessities and placing them in a knapsack, took the two short swords hanging above the fireplace and sheathed them in scabbards strapped to each of her thighs. She then took a jar of lamp oil and poured it over the tapestry-turned-funeral-shroud, and on the straw mats around the room. Rolling up one of the smaller mats, she placed one end in the low fire burning in the hearth, and then laid the burning straw reverently on the oil-soaked tapestry. Hungry flames snapped and burst angrily to life, and smoke began to fill the room. Firelight danced in the tears streaming down her cheeks, but she wiped them clear and exited what had once been her home. She could not bear to watch it be reduced to ashes.
The morning air was clean and fresh; everything seemed in contrast to her somber mood. Valfaran began her journey to Yliakum.
***
Nightfall in Yliakum was the only time Valfaran truly felt at home there. She never considered herself a villain or a creature of any evil nature, the sort who usually came out at night and lurked about. Rather, there was solace to be found in the quieting of the normally bustling city streets, which at times would be choked with the dust from carts and the noise and clamor of so many people gathered so closely together. Compared to her home village, which was peaceful and had houses spread apart between fields, the whole atmosphere of the city was stifling. But nighttime had a different feel.
Those who took some pride in residing there called it the “City of the Azure Sun”. The life and light-giving crystal was exalted, but the humbling words of Valfaran’s father echoed in her mind. Even the Azure Sun casts its shadows. Even the very best and most sacred of things can give rise to dark and evil natures. In her experience, those who stood in the sun were the worst of the corrupt: lying, stealing, and killing, all while smiling through their teeth and putting on a pretty or a handsome face for the public.
No, thought Valfaran, it is those who walk in shadow who know themselves truly, and it is those who walk in shadow who are pure and true when they step into the light. An idea was growing in her mind on how to solve the corruption of Yliakum. Certainly not through politics! The politicians will always be corrupt, bureaucracy will always keep those in need from being helped and any problem from being solved. So who can further the common good? Who is even still aware of the concept of common good? The common people.
The plan was set, then. She would gather together others like her, commoners who had been slighted by the corruption of society. They would work independently, but for a collective purpose: to help those in need who are neglected by all others; to walk in shadow, asking for no praise or reward; to keep their hearts in the light, and know themselves well to keep their purpose true. Valfaran and her brothers and sisters of this shared cause would be the Shadows of the Azure Sun.
The young Valfaran, like her father Quelnao, quickly developed a love for the Labyrinth, as well as an adventurous spirit that was difficult to tame. As soon as she was old enough, the adolescent Enkidukai would go off on explorations of her own, and as a result, quickly became familiar with the nearest tunnels and caverns. A collection of maps and charts soon covered the walls of her sleeping quarters, all made by her own careful paw on her frequent trips to the Stone Labyrinth.
One day, upon returning from one of these trips, Valfaran discovered two strange Ylian men sitting across from her parents in the central room of her home. Gaze shifting worriedly from her parents’ terse expressions to the stony faces of the strange men, the adolescent Enkidukai asked a pointed question: “Who are these men, Papa? Mama? What are they doing here?”
Standing from his place, the first Ylian man gave a curt bow and lifted his gaze to meet Valfaran’s challenging stare, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. “I am a servant of Farun-Leha. I have come to,” he paused meaningfully, straightening his posture, “negotiate with your father.”
Quelnao held up a broad paw and smiled his typical benevolent smile. “They are here to settle our territory problems. We hope to work out a deal so that all our people will be able to keep their homes and continue to make a living off of their land.”
Valfaran shook her head slowly and stepped backwards, paw moving quickly to the dagger sheathed at her waist. She loved her father dearly, but understood that the flaw in his expansive goodness was his overwhelming – often too generous – trust in others. “These men are no parchment-shuffling politicians, Papa. I fear they are not here to talk.”
With a low, jeering laugh, the second Ylian stood up. “Clever child,” he growled, drawing the long blade sheathed at his side. With one clean motion, he thrust his sword into Quelnao’s unprotected stomach. “Pity your father wasn’t so keen.”
Valkitha gave a strangled cry, stumbling out of her chair and away from the second man. The first Ylian drew his own blade and advanced on the Enkidukai mother.
”Run, Valfaran!” cried the distraught Valkitha, who was torn between fleeing for her life and caring for her dying husband. Valfaran instead stood, drawing her dagger.
”No, Mama, I won’t go without you!” However, she did not act upon her words, as the pleading look in her mother’s eyes shook her into motion. As if suddenly unchained, she tore across the room and out the door, fleeing from the strange men and the tomb she once called a home.
Before she could reach the center of the tiny agrarian village, her legs gave way and she crawled into the shadows of the gnarled roots of an old tree that shaded the dirt path. There the young Enkidukai huddled, shivering, tears streaming unchecked down her face. Only one thought pounded in her head: Why?
Finally, after what seemed like an age, Valfaran stood and hobbled apprehensively up the hill, afraid of what she already knew was true. When she pushed the door gently open with a tremulous hand, the chilling silence inside told clearly that the men had left. The smell of blood and death hung oppressively in the air. Valfaran stepped forward, her heart pounding at the sight she knew she would have to see.
Valkitha lay on the floor, two clean stab wounds in her chest and stomach, a pool of crimson staining the woven grass mat that covered the floor. Eyes closed, her face was frozen in an expression of grief. Valfaran bowed her head respectfully, stepping past the body to her father. To her surprise, ragged breaths came unsteadily from the gaping mouth of Quelneo. His only child knelt down, cradling his head in her lap.
”Papa, Papa, no,” she whispered hoarsely, “You’ll be all right! I can get a healer from the village, Papa, we can fix you up! We can fix this!” The noble Enkidukai shook his head slowly and coughed, blood dribbling down the corners of his mouth. His once strong and handsome features now looked strangely old and grizzled, twisted with the pain of the physical and emotional wounds of his betrayal.
“No, little one, my child,” he rasped, his once-strong hands grasping his daughter’s feebly. “My time is over. It is yours now; live it to its fullest. Promise me you’ll remember something for me, Valfaran.” The young Enkidukai nodded quickly, wanting nothing but to heed her father?s wishes. “Promise me you’ll remember,” he suffered briefly a fit of coughing, staining his shirt further with blood, “Even the Azure Sun casts its shadows...” His voice trailed off.
”No, Papa, no…” Valfaran’s voice trailed to the most tattered of whispers. Taking one last rattling breath, Quelnao smiled faintly as his gaze grew distant. “Talad waits for me now. His embrace is warm and everlasting. Your mother waits as well. I do not fear death; only that you should see me again too soon. Just...remember…even the Azure Sun…” With that, the brave Enkidukai went limp, the traces of a smile still lingering on his lips.
Bodies, soulless shells of the dead, were never treated with particular reverence in this land. Something in Valfaran moved her to give her parents a proper funeral. Perhaps it was the fear of letting others see her parents in the state they were in. She placed the bodies next to each other and did her best to make her mother and father look respectable. She draped them with the tapestry that had hung on the wall, depicting the bronze gates and bordered with images of the creatures – mythical and real – said to reside there. After gathering up the few necessities and placing them in a knapsack, took the two short swords hanging above the fireplace and sheathed them in scabbards strapped to each of her thighs. She then took a jar of lamp oil and poured it over the tapestry-turned-funeral-shroud, and on the straw mats around the room. Rolling up one of the smaller mats, she placed one end in the low fire burning in the hearth, and then laid the burning straw reverently on the oil-soaked tapestry. Hungry flames snapped and burst angrily to life, and smoke began to fill the room. Firelight danced in the tears streaming down her cheeks, but she wiped them clear and exited what had once been her home. She could not bear to watch it be reduced to ashes.
The morning air was clean and fresh; everything seemed in contrast to her somber mood. Valfaran began her journey to Yliakum.
***
Nightfall in Yliakum was the only time Valfaran truly felt at home there. She never considered herself a villain or a creature of any evil nature, the sort who usually came out at night and lurked about. Rather, there was solace to be found in the quieting of the normally bustling city streets, which at times would be choked with the dust from carts and the noise and clamor of so many people gathered so closely together. Compared to her home village, which was peaceful and had houses spread apart between fields, the whole atmosphere of the city was stifling. But nighttime had a different feel.
Those who took some pride in residing there called it the “City of the Azure Sun”. The life and light-giving crystal was exalted, but the humbling words of Valfaran’s father echoed in her mind. Even the Azure Sun casts its shadows. Even the very best and most sacred of things can give rise to dark and evil natures. In her experience, those who stood in the sun were the worst of the corrupt: lying, stealing, and killing, all while smiling through their teeth and putting on a pretty or a handsome face for the public.
No, thought Valfaran, it is those who walk in shadow who know themselves truly, and it is those who walk in shadow who are pure and true when they step into the light. An idea was growing in her mind on how to solve the corruption of Yliakum. Certainly not through politics! The politicians will always be corrupt, bureaucracy will always keep those in need from being helped and any problem from being solved. So who can further the common good? Who is even still aware of the concept of common good? The common people.
The plan was set, then. She would gather together others like her, commoners who had been slighted by the corruption of society. They would work independently, but for a collective purpose: to help those in need who are neglected by all others; to walk in shadow, asking for no praise or reward; to keep their hearts in the light, and know themselves well to keep their purpose true. Valfaran and her brothers and sisters of this shared cause would be the Shadows of the Azure Sun.
