lands imagined by eye and ear
Some boys pushed their way to the front of the crowd for a closer look. Three of them, the brothers Hurx, came with pummel stones and a mind to use them. Pyr was not the oldest, but he had the reddest hair of them all and knew what to do.
He raised his stone high and proclaimed the words he had learned so well. “Strangers die in Syland! Says the Semperor!” Then he fired. And then did his brothers.
The gourd-shaped stones traced a crude arc to their target, lurching head over handle at the nearest og. One fell short, another long, but Pyr’s was true and strong.
The pummel stone splintered, raining shards on the folk of the field. The og, unhurt, flapped furiously and turned back at the boys.
“What armor wears that warbird?” wondered Pyr’s elder brother Ayr.
“I think we’re soon to learn,” said Pyr, squinting at the sky. “It comes.”
The angry og dove and the crowd fell back in a great commotion. But the brothers, though defenseless, held their ground.
“Here lad!” called the elderwoman, hurling Pyr her irony wooden rod. He plucked it from the air and in the same sure motion swatted at the fierce flesh of prey.
Suddenly Pyr was on his back looking starward. His ringing hands held half of the broken toiling stick. He shook his head, confused. “Brothers, did I slay it? Is it killed?”
“No Pyr, no,” answered Ayron, the youngest. “It wheels for more… its twin too.”
“Rise brother,” said Ayr, pulling Pyr to his feet. “Together we face these headless hunters, live or die!” Each took grip of the shattered stick and they held it up against their foe…
[Coming soon ~ some sneak peeks of Episode 4, which I’m writing right now. Oh boy!]