literature

Nano 2010 - p3

Deviation Actions

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"Help! Help!" He cried, turning back to the group. "There's someone here! There's a survivor!" Not checking to see if they were following, Danny rushed forward to the man. He was lying prone on the ground, a bandaged, bloodied hand curled about a pole as if it were a lifeline. The ringing Danny heard - and still heard - was a bell, tied to a wire on the pole. Carefully side-stepping the unconscious man, he grabbed at the pole, pulling it from the ground. It slipped from the man's weak grasp and Danny looked at the bell on top.
"This thing is huge," he mumbled to himself, turning the bell about in his hands. But he did not notice the man, his opening eyes and panicked look. He only realized that he had awoken when a hand grasped his ankle. Danny grasped. Desperately, he kicked at him, screaming and yelling. The hold never loosened, though and soon he felt the wet blood from the maimed hand seeping into his pants legs.
"Let go!" He screamed, tossing the bell down to the ground. "Let go of me!!! Let goooo!!"  Senses returning, breaking through the fear and adrenalin, he grabbed the hand and ripped it from his leg, throwing it away. The man himself screamed, holding his hand to his chest, crying to himself.
Swallowing hard, Danny gathered his courage and sunk to his hands and knees, crawling slowly to the man. He was mumbling to himself, rocking back and forth and he clutched his hands.
"Hey... Mister?" He asked, looking into his face. The boy could hear the others coming, but he paid them no mind. Intent on hearing what the man was saying, he bent in, placing an ear next to his mouth.
"I'm s-s-sorry," he said, choking back a sob. "I - I'm s-so, so sorry! I - I - I d-didn't m-mean to!" Danny could barely hear the man mumbling, he was so quiet. It was as if he was talking to himself, like he didn't expect an answer.
"Hey," Danny said, putting a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him slightly. "It's okay. You don't have to be sorry."
The man gasped, and stared up at Danny. The boy stared into the most crazy colored eyes he had ever seen. Blue, green, pale red, even gold! But never... black and white. The whites shifted, spotting the bell in Danny's hand. The boy followed his gaze and quickly untied the bell from the pole.
"Is this what you want?" He asked, holding it out. The maimed hand quivered, reaching for the bell. Before the man could take it, Danny was shoved roughly away, pushed to the ground. Keeping a grip on the bell, he glared up at the tutors as they grabbed at the man, turning him about, checking for wounds. Whispering about healed injuries and emaciation reached Danny and one of the guard lifted the man up.
"We'll make a camp," the lead guardsman said, "and we shall return to the Northern Haven tomorrow." No one really argued with the man and the tutors sent the kids off to make the camp - Danny included. As they questioned them about the proper places to raise tents and how to check for quicksand, Danny slipped the bell into his pocket. If anyone noticed the bulge in his pants, it went unasked.

~*~*~*~

He struggled against the grabbing hands. They yanked away his scarf, which he tried to pull back, mumbling to himself about needing it. The hands turned gentle, tenderly coercing the scarf from Iru's paining hands. Soon, they were able to unwind it, able to get his cloak and shirt off. Then they examined him, prodding his chest with their warm, sweaty fingers, mumbling over the state of his body and how undernourished he was.
But what caught their attention were the tough patches of scars, dotting his body. The dark scabs protected parts of his arms and chest, covered the majority of his legs and back. The people ran fingers up and down the rough skin, commenting how its texture and durability. Iru couldn't feel them, merely rode on the sounds of their voices.
He never opened his eyes, which is why they must have thought he was sleeping throughout it all. Something in him, a little voice, languid and sweet, told him to keep his eyes shut. Whenever Iru tried opening his eyes, panicking, a hand held them down, soothingly brushing a cold finger across his cheek. The man mumbled and groaned, trying to push away all those hands. But they were infinite and continued to study his body.
Until, suddenly, it stopped. Iru lay in darkness for what felt like hours, the cold hand still on his face.  And then, that too was lifted. Yet Iru still did not to move.
There were sounds, he realized. The sounds of people and camp. Talking, whispering. A fire crackling. People talking. People actually talking! Their words, their quiet conversations. It had been so long since Iru had heard others. His own voice lost what little power it had when only he could answer himself. But here! Here there were many people talking. And Iru listened, lying on a soft mat that shifted with the sand.
"Hey. Tutor." A childish voice said. The boy, from what Iru could tell, seemed very self-confident. His voice held an air of disdain for whatever teacher he was talking to, yet Iru could sense something underneath, but he was unable to place his finger on it.
"Yes?" The tutor answered, as if already exasperated with the child.
"What's it mean when someone has black and white eyes?" The boy asked.
Iru's heart stopped.
"We all have black and white in our eyes," the tutor explained. "See? The black part is called the iris while the white part is called the, well, whites of our eyes. And then we have the colored parts of our eyes. Yours is blue, while mine are green. See?"
There was a pause. "That's not what I mean." The boy said.
"Well," the tutor answered, sighing exaggeratedly. "What did you mean then?"
"I mean, the whole eye was black. An' there was a little part of the eye that was white and it was the part that moved around. It didn't have any color."
There was a pause. A long, long pause. A painfully long pause. Iru strained himself to hear, as if they were suddenly trying to hide their words from him. But the tutor spoke again, his voice low and harsh, strained and urgent. "Who did you see with eyes like those?"
The boy's answer was instantaneous. "No! I just heard it around. Geez! I'm gonna go see that old guy I found in the desert." Stomping feet echoed through the skies and Iru jolted, forcing himself to lie still as the flap of the tent moved back and swished back into place. There was a pause. Then the pattering of little feet which stopped near Iru. He forced himself to breathe evenly as the boy undoubtedly plopped next to him.
Tiny hands touched his arm, prodded the tough skin on his chest and legs. "Ew, this is so gross," he mumbled to himself, making Iru want to squirm away from the overly curious boy. "And so cool..." the child mumbled to himself, this time poking at Iru's face. This time, Iru couldn't help but flinch away.
"Hey!" The child whispered, shaking Iru roughly. "I saw that! You're awake!" When Iru didn't move, he only redoubled his efforts, putting his whole body behind waking Iru up.
"O-Ow!" He cried out when the child touched an exposed portion of his skin, immediately silencing himself.
"Hah!" the child breathed out a bit of laughter. "Can't hide now! Wake up!"
Caught, Iru slowly rose, keeping his eyes shut tight. He wanted to see the child, wanted to see where he was and what was going on. But fear of being killed because of his nonexistent  sin and rejection by this child kept his eyes shut. They were both silent for a while.
"Well?!" The child demanded. "Say something! Open your eyes."
Iru shook his head, placing a hand over his eyes. "C-C-Can't," he stuttered out after a long pause, half-expecting no answer to come, remembering the countless days with no human response.
"Why not?" The boy asked. "Are you blind?"
Iru nodded to him, his questions refreshing to Iru. "Y-Yes."
There was a disinterested "Oh." A pause. Then, "is that why your eyes are that color? Is that what happens to Namuh when they go blind? I've never seen a blind Namuh before."
Iru was silent, the barrage of questions unsettling, yet refreshing. "T-T-Tell.... m-me," he asked, "h-h-have you... s-seen... m-my bell?"
The boy seemed annoyed that his questions were answered, and threw the bell into Iru's lap, muttering a slight "here." Instantly, Iru's hands grabbed it, wrapping about the smooth metal. Wincing at the pain of his left hand, he kept the bell in his lap as he fingered the wrapped wound. Pinky there... middle gone... ring gone... pointer and thumb still there. Iru whimpered slightly and the boy scoffed. "Not too brave, are ya?" He asked. When Iru didn't answer, he sighed. "You didn't have them when we found you. What got 'em? You should tell me."
"A... A lizard," Iru whispered more to himself than to the child. He could scarcely remember how he was acting, what had happened.
"Cool," the child breathed, thinking of all the impossible possibilities. "How big was it?"
Iru held out his hands to what he remembered the lizard's size. There was a silence. Was the boy disappointed that the lizard wasn't as large as he had hoped it to be? "It... it hurt." Iru mumbled, forgetting the child was there in the silence, just for a second. Falling back into old habits was so easy, Iru was about to answer himself when a "Well duh. It just bit off your fingers. How did you think it would feel?" brought him back around. A smile crawled up his face.
"What?" The boy asked, propping his elbows on Iru's leg. "What are you so happy about? You just lost two of your fingers. If I lost two of my fingers, I wouldn't be happy in the least. I'd be mad! You should have gotten back at that lizard. If I were you, I would have."
"I... I ate it," Iru whispered, placing his good hand on his stomach, still huge from the animal.
"Hah! Cool." The boy said. "Taught that thing a lesson!" Just then, a shout reverberated through the camp, and the flap of the tent burst open in a flurry. A short man with thinning red hair and small pale blue eyes rushed in. Iru cried out, attempting to stand. But his legs wouldn't obey him and he merely flopped back to the ground. Groaning, he hid behind the child, grabbing his shoulders to steady himself. The boy seemed more taken back at Iru's reaction than the man's entrance. Tense at Iru's tight grip around his shoulders, he only seemed to relax when the man trembled, positioning himself down to the floor, knees drawn in.
"You're so manly," the child said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're hiding behind a nine-year-old from protection from an old fart. Congratulations. You kind of deserved to lose your fingers, I think."
"Silence, child," the intruder said. A dull whap and an "ow!" had Iru assume – correctly – that the boy had been smacked.
"N..." Iru started but stopped. In all under an hour, it seemed, Iru had gone from talking to only himself, to one person, to tow and possibly dozens more. He could feel their eyes on him and Iru immediately began picking at his scarf. Taking a deep breath, he started again. "N-No r-r-reason… t-to hur- p-punish h- th-the child…" he mumbled, pulling at the folds. Tension still hung heavy in the room, ever more present than the dripping humidity. "I – I… H-he… he…"
"Well?" The intruder asked impatiently, tapping his boot upon the sand.
"H-he did… n-nothing wrong," Iru finished lamely, stopping himself from rambling and stuttering on pathetically.
"Hah!" The boy laughed, dancing away from the older man and landing next to Iru,  clamping a tiny hand on his shoulder. "See? We're friends already! I know how he lost his fingers too, and you don't!" There was more laughter until it suddenly stopped. Swiftly, Iru's hand wrapped around the child's as the anxiety from the man rolled off him, oppressing the child's laughter and Iru's own voice.
But then he spoke. "Then you can stay with your friend all night, if you so feel that way. I'm sure someone will bring you something to eat." Then the flap of the tent and the only apprehension was in the two sitting there.
The child let out a huff of laughter and sat down next to Iru. "Stupid tutors," he said, brushing Iru's hand off his shoulder. "They think they're soooo smart. Hmph." There was a pause and Iru moved his hands back to his lap, and he began pulling at the folds of the shirt that they must have lent to him. Iru didn't know what happened to his cloak. He was, at least, glad he had the scarf. And the bell. Again, he touched its surface, shaking it just a bit. The slight ringing was nothing in comparison to the boy's company, however, and a small part of Iru was glad that he was punished to stay in this tent.
But then there was silence again. Iru had no idea what to say to this child, had no idea what to converse about. Carefully, he risked a peek at the child, but jumped and shut his eyes again, when he saw the child looking at him. Not just looking. Studying.
"Hey, mister." He said, quite simply.
"Y-y-yes?" Iru asked, pulling at his scarf again, looking to the side, peeping out carefully. Thankfully, he could see his cloak, folded up neatly in a corner.
"Are you intimidated by me? Huh? Are you?" Iru couldn't help but jump again. Such a commanding voice for such a child! "Geez, you are a wimp! I'm getting us some food, since they probably won't be able to hear you and your st-st-stuttering."
He heard his footsteps and looked up to see blue hair and nice traveling clothes. It seemed as if he was getting prepared for a battle with those people out there.
"Hey!" He yelled, his stance rigid and taunt. Tiny muscles quivered in his arms and legs, and when the flap opened once more, Iru squeezed his eyes shut.
"What, kid?! You trying to wake the whole camp!?"
"If it will get us some dinner, yeah." He answered. "We've been out in this stupid sand pit for too long and we want food. I've been grounded here and you honestly don't expect him to get some food? The hurt guy?"
There was a long pause. A laugh and the boy turned and strolled back to Iru. "We got food." He said, plopping down on the floor with a light thump.
Iru had a choice, now. He knew that. Either keep silent or say something.
"What?" The boy asked. "You got something to say?"
Iru nodded. This child's behavior was deplorable. Who was his father? He should have taught this boy some manners, should have punished the child when he disrespected his elders in this way! It made Iru sit to his stomach, seeing such a young child acting out like he knew everything while, in fact, he was ignorant of most of the going-ons of the world. Iru planned on giving him an earful.
"Wh-why… d-do you… act out… like you d-do?"
"What do you mean?" He asked slowly, despite the fact he still talked through his teeth, practically slurring his words together.
Iru waved a hand to where the entrance was and opened his mouth to speak, but the child beat him to it. "Oh, with them?" He said offhandedly. "Those old farts wouldn't know a sandstorm if it hit them in the face."
Suddenly, Iru shuddered heavily and wrapped his hands about the tough skin on his arms. The sands… Horrible storms, sneaking up on him, blinding him. Fumbling around, arms waving wildly, meeting nothing but the sharp, tiny teeth that ripped eagerly into his flesh and tore it away slowly. Flying cloak, flying scarf, flying skin.
"Hey." The voice was tiny, so miniscule and far away. "Mister!" It vanished. "Your eyes really are weird."
Iru forced himself to return. No storm. No pain. That was days ago. He let out a shuddering sigh and stared at himself.
Or rather, his younger self if he had Catostylus's attitude – confident, energetic, curious. The child grinned at him, making faces that he thought Iru couldn't see. His blue hair, his blue eyes. The structure of his face, the light tan color of his skin that the sun gently kissed and caressed to that light caramel color. Iru felt like he was looking into a jar of water twenty years ago.
"How'd you get born with eyes like those?" the child asked, waving his hand in front of Iru's face. "Do all people in the Western Haven have eyes like that?"
Iru forced himself not to follow the hands, forced himself not to look at the boy. 'Straight ahead,' Iru told himself. 'You are blind. Look straight ahead.' Iru shrugged, feigning ignorance well
"How would I know?"
The child shrugged. "True story, mister."
"Maybe," Iru started, slowly closing his eyes, "if you paid more attention to your tutors and stayed awake during class..."
Iru could picture the child now. Opening his mouth in a scowl. It was Catostylus's 'angry expression,' yet it was Iru's youthful face he saw and a grin spread across his face. Iru counted under his breath. three... two... o-
"Here's your meals," a rough voice cut in. Iru risked a peek to see the expression and instantly knew it was worth the risk. A slight scowl, and a look up the most irritated child, like a chicken whose feathers were ruffled one too many times.
"Thanks," the boy answered. Iru heard the wooden bowls thumping together and held out his hands, staying blind. When the weight of the bowl hit his hands, he gasped, struggling not to drop it. He hadn't felt something this heavily in years. Or was it he was becoming weaker with less and less food? Either way, the bowl was big, Iru's hands unable to encompass the bottom part. The top circled about, and, after setting it carefully on the ground,  his tongue slipped out, feeling the heat of the mix, practically tasting the food and the fumes slipped up and nimbly would their way into Iru's nose.
"You're drooling," they boy stated, jolting Iru back to reality. The man scratched at his scarf and slipped his tongue into the food, winding it about to swallow. Despite his hunger, Iru didn't want to swallow. It was delicious. After five years of raw, wriggling meat as tough as jerky and as tasteful as sand, this wet traveling mush was heaven. It tasted of the ash of the fire and the hard iron of the pot. But it didn't fight Iru the way down to his stomach. It slipped down as easily as water compared to the things he had eaten before. It sloshed about his mouth as he savored the taste, smiling widely. He didn't have to pop off his jaw, either, which pained him since the skin of his left cheek got peeled off by a carrion buzzard, years ago.
"Geez," the boy said, his own meal already gone. "Old men are slow eaters."
"O-Old men?" Iru asked, swallowing.
He laughed. "Yeah! Old men! Like you."
Iru shrugged and returned to his meal. To a child of this age, Iru would seem like an old man to him. The child's views didn't bother him much.
They continued their meal in silence, Iru taking his time while the child bombarded him with questions, snapping when Iru stuttered too much or took too long to answer. Twice, he was almost caught in his web of lies. Almost.
Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the child stretched, groaning. "I'm tired," he said, popping his jaw. "I'm sleeping. Night, mister."
Iru peeped open an eye to see the boy had turned from him, wrapping up in a blanket on the other side of the camp. Slight mumblings came from him, mostly of the cold of the desert night and how he missed his own bed that was actually warm at night.
"Y-You know," Iru said, shutting his eyes once more in case the child turned to him, "i-if you... b-bury yourself... i-in the sand.. p-partially... you could... k-k-keep a l-little b-bit.. w-warmer." Silence. Then more rustling. The steady rhythm and plop... plop... plop of sand being tossed aside. Iru looked once more to see him doing as he said and snuggling into the sand, pulling the blanket back over his shoulders.
"Thanks, Mister," he said, resting his head on the ground. "I am warmer."
Iru chuckled. "Th-think of... a-all y-your t-tutors could... teach... y-you."
The boy snorted. "They're all around the fire, practically sleeping on each other to stay warm. I doubt they knew about this neat trick." Iru heard him mumble under his breath, "and they won't, either, unless the figure it out themselves."
Iru sat in relative silence for a while, listening to the sounds outside and the boy's restless breathing and shifting. Every once in a while, he would mutter darkly to himself about sand in his shorts.
Finally, Iru gathered up enough courage. "S-Son?"
A grunt answered him.
"I... I w-would like... t-t-to.. a-ask y-you.. something... I... if... if I may."
"Spit it out then, Mister. The Goddess be merciful, you sure stutter a lot. I d-d-don't think I can u-u-understand you if you keep it up for too long."
Iru fell silent, his courage cut down due to those sharp words. The boy sighed.
"You told me about this neat sand trick. I'll answer your question in return for that. Then we're even. Deal?"
Iru nodded. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Wh... what is... y-your name?"
"Daniel." He answered instantly. "Though everyone just calls me Danny."
"Y-your father," Iru pressed, a tight knot forming in his stomach, "i-is he your r-real father? Th-The one that... that..." Again, he couldn't finish the sentence. He wanted this to be his son. The name, the looks. It all fit. But he wasn't sure. He didn't think that this could be the attitude of his son. How could he be so quirky and disrespectful?
"I already answered your question," Danny said. "But if you do me another favor, I'll answer another." He grinned.
Iru tugged at his scarf. He knew Danny was leading him on a string - something his mother was apt at doing - and Iru was following along like a complacent camel, as always.
"T-Tell.. Catostylus... th-that... that the d-desert... a-and the Goddess... has... been kind... t-to one a-as unworthy... as m-myself."
"How do you know about Catostylus?" Danny asked immediately. If he came from the Western Haven, then could he know about a guard in the Northern one?
"O-Old... friends," was all Iru said. He could feel the boy studying him, eyes narrowed into little slits as he tried to determine who Iru really was, the weak facade of his earlier tall tale no longer quenching the child's thirst for answers.
"Uh-huh," Danny muttered. "And who should I tell is giving the message to him?"
Iru grinned slyly. It seemed he had the carrot on a stick now and he could lead Danny where he wanted. "Aah... I - I a-already answered... y-your question, D-Danny boy." He said. "C-Cato...will... kn-know wh-who I am... I - I'll t-tell you... f-f-for a f-favor, though."
The boy scoffed. "Not interested, old man." He said, turning around. And that was the end of that conversation. Copying his son, Iru dug into the sand as well, covering himself with the blanket and cloak. But he did not sleep. How could he? His son was right next to him. So close Iru could embrace him, kiss him and shower him with the affection that had grown with the longing over the years. He could tell his son how much he love him, how much he missed him, and how sorry he was to be gone for so long.
As the night wore on, that need only grew. But Iru knew he couldn't do it.
Someone would tell him of his father, if they hadn't already. He would learn all the lies they wanted to say about him, whether he committed blasphemy, wanted to kill all of the Namuh race or consulted with demons. As the night warmed to day, Iru shuffled out of his hole, crawling towards Danny, sleeping soundly in his. The child was adorable in his sleep, alluding not to the sharp tongue and powerful wit.
Even though Iru couldn't explain his absence, even though he couldn't articulate his sorrow and regret, there was one thing he could tell his son. Brushing a hand through Danny's hair, Iru whispered to him, "I love you, son. I... I know... that I can't... be there f-for you and... and it's something I regret. I would ch-change it i-if I could, b-but I - I can't. J-Just know... that y-your father loves you... and is proud of you, Danny boy." He leaned in, brushing his lips against Danny's brow, savoring the contact with his only son. Lightly ruffling that pale blue hair, Iru stood, grabbing his cloak and wrapping himself in it. The early morning air was chill, but Iru knew it would heat up during the day. Carefully, as to not make much noise, Iru wrapped the bell in his scarf.
Just as he was about to slip away, a small whimpering caught his ear. He turned, and saw Danny reaching up, rubbing his forehead. "D-Daddy?" He murmured.
Silently, Iru crept up to him again, and grabbed his hands. "It's all right, Danny boy," he whispered, soothing him, stroking his hair. "Go back to sleep. I love you, son. Go back to sleep." Danny nodded once, sleepily, and rolled over, holding to Iru's hands. The man bit his lip, but, with careful maneuvering, was able to free himself from his son.
"I'll see you again, Danny, my beloved son." With that, Iru ducked under the back of the tent and made his way from the camp and into the rolling sands of the desert.
Little did he know that it would be another five years before he saw another person again.

~*~*~*~

"I don't see why you won't join the Divine Guard," she pleaded, following him throughout the house. Their giant foyer, a testament to their wealth - no, the wealth they married into. Polished stone of many different colors decorated the floor, giving it a feel of unity that other houses lack with rough, tile floors. Danny didn't even want to look at the ceiling, where many precious gems dotted the stone like stars, twinkling coldly from so far away.
Danny kept his eyes fixated on the trap door just ahead of him. Once he reached that, he was out of here and could deal with his mother's complaining later.
"Danny!" She cried, shrill and sharp.
The boy stopped short, turning to face is mother. Now fourteen, many people wouldn't consider him a boy. His face was tan and cheekbones set nicely in the middle of his face. His blue eyes pierced all who looked at him when he was angry. If it wasn't for the distinct differences between his mother, his father and himself, one could have passed him off for their son, maybe even convinced him into believing that his current father was his real father.
"What, Mom?" He asked. "What do you want? I've explained to you hundred - no, thousands! - of times why I'm not joining the Divine Guard!"
Aurelia waved a hand about, encompassing all of the stone works that ran about their house, either carved directly from the stone, or moved here from elsewhere. All of this beautiful artwork, expertly carved and preserved to last a thousand lifetimes. Each statue portrayed the human anatomy done to the hair on his head, exhibited each rippling muscle under the skin and fur. "This, Danny! If you join, you can have all of this! This wonderful life! And you're going to throw it all away to be a... a..."
"A jar maker," he finished for her. The look on her face was like a trap bird before it swooped down for its pray. The soft, gentle, looks that belayed no malice, no wanting to do harm. But, slithering through her eyes like water snakes was that hatred, that rage. Danny didn't know if it was directed to him or his real father. He knew he looked like the man - Catostylus had told him countless times that he was the spitting image of him. Told him that he father had been a jar maker before his unfortunate 'accident.' Danny had a hunch at what was said his father did, but did not believe them. There had to be someone he could believe in, and if he believed what people said about him, then he couldn't see his real father as a man.
"That is not the best of jobs. You know that, Danny," she said, straightening up, acting as if her outburst had never happened. She ran her fingers through her hair, now gold dusted with silver. He smoothed down the wrinkles in her dress, flaws in the cascading sapphire ceasing to exist at her light - almost heavenly - touch. "You could have no much more with your life if you only tried."
The only answer Danny had for her was "someone has to do it." Then he turned on his heel and strode from his house. As he climbed the ladder out, he ignored his mother's yells and begging. He was supposed to be something. He was going to be important and well-respected. He could make something of himself.
Danny pulled himself up on to the surface, scooting away from the trapdoor hole. He glanced down at his mother, staring lividly up at him, deep frown making the wrinkles on her face more apparent. "If you don't come back down here right now, you are never, never!, coming back into this house again!" Her voice was filled with indignation, with condemning rage. She hated him, Danny realized. Hated him because he wasn't what she wanted to be.
Slowly, Danny closed the door of the trap door.  A frustrated howl floated up to him, but he ignored it.
She didn't love him, she loved an image of him, one that he could never obtain, one that he never wanted to obtain. Danny liked who he was. And he wanted to make jars, despite his mother's attempts at stopping him as the years came and went. It was what he loved, what he wanted. He was able to make things, useful things. With his own hands. From nothing came something. A wet mound of clay. Shapeless and useless. And Danny could put it to use. Hands forming and molding the clay. Jars and pots of all different shapes and sizes. Long, skinny, short, fat. And they would help people, too. They could store their grain, their water.
Danny walked through the streets, taking the familiar twists and turns. He passed a stone and headed down a darkened alley. Stopping in front of the posts, he fell to his knees and banged on the ground with his fist. When the step-thump, step-thump resounded from under the ground, Danny fell back to his ankles, moving out of the way as the trapdoor sprung open. The grizzled face of Catostylus looked up to him, grinning ear to ear.
Despite him being only thirty-two, he looked much older. The man had spent much time in the Divine Guard and it showed. One day, Catostylus went off on an expedition with several other fellow members. The next thing Danny knew, weeks had passed. And then Catostylus came back.
Alone.
Missing an eye.
Missing a leg.
He didn't speak for a long time afterwards. Merely handed Danny his resignation papers, hoping the boy knew what to do. Danny knew what he had to do and he did just what Catostylus would have wanted, though he wished it could have ended otherwise. Just recently, his voice had reemerged and he talked to Danny, low and harsh.
"Hello, Danny boy," he said, his voice old and grizzled, as if his voice box rubbed against a cheese grater every time he talked. He coughed, hacking loudly into his shoulder as the bits of voice rubbed raw by that grater in his throat got in the way. He brought his arm down, grinning still. "Well, come on, Danny boy! You have to tell me how Aurelia took it." He laughed sharply, pushing up the door fully so Danny could enter.
After waiting a couple moments, Danny leapt down, grabbing the handle and yanking the trap door shut. He walked Catostylus awkwardly make his way down the stairs, his stump of a leg supported by a couple poles of stone, those supported by a stone ring about them. The man either waddled about his house or dragged the stone behind him. Danny's eyes shifted to the ground  and he scratched he cheek awkwardly, never liking to see the man shuffle about like that.
Stepping off the stairs, Danny stood until Catostylus sat, offering the boy a seat as well. "Well, Danny boy? How did it go?"
Danny pulled his legs to him, sitting cross-legged on the chair. "Well, she took it as horribly as we thought she would." He said off-handedly. "Haven't told Hydrozoan, though. I don't even want to think about what he'll do." Aurelia just kicked him out. Her husband, who not only had an important ranking in the Divine Guard, but owned over half of the Haven's oasis, would turn red faced, and that blue vein would practically pop out of his forehead. "I wonder if that will make the vein on his forehead finally explode," he asked idly.
Catostylus chucked. Then coughed. "Now, now, Danny boy. Respect your elders."
Danny sighed. "Yeah. I can just hear Dad telling me that." Bored, he picked at a strand of his blue hair, remembering the black and white eyes and the rough skin. "Y-y-you sh-should r-r-r-respect your e-e-elders." He stuttered out, making a face.
He froze like that once seeing the look of Catostylus's face. Danny hadn't seen him this mad in ages. "Daniel," he started, voice as stony as the room about them, "you know practically nothing about your real father."
"I know enough," Danny said, staring intently at the ground. The pale gold eye was just as bad as two. "Look," Danny continued, knowing his sharp remark wasn't enough, "I do. Really."
Catostylus scratched at his missing eye, scar tissue covering up the socket none too neatly. "Well, should we get you settled up in your new shop, then, Danny boy?" He asked.
Enthusiastically, Danny nodded. "Yeah! And," he paused, looking about as if someone could be hiding in the walls, "it is Dad's old shop, right?"
With a nod, Catostylus stood, bad leg dragging, holding him down. Danny hopped to his feet, reaching out to give Catostylus his arm. The ex-guard graciously took it, supporting himself against the boy as they made their way up the stairs and outside. Then they separated, walking side by side through the streets. Catostylus limped by himself, pushing to keep up with Danny when the boy walked too quickly, or got separated in a crowd.
Ever since Catostylus resigned from his position, he seemed to have become invisible to the crowd. They walked past him, pushing the crippled man into difficult positions where he could neither walk forward nor backwards. Only when he made his presence known at shops and stalls was he helped. Danny didn't want to think of how it was for him those first weeks when he got back, hiding in his house, all alone, rejecting all visitors.
Standing off to the side, waiting for a thick crowd to disperse, Danny tapped his foot on the ground, waiting anxiously. They weren't going anywhere, which pissed him off to no end. Dashing off, he pulled out several coins from his pocket, slamming them down on an open-air stall.
"You," he demanded, the shop owner turning quickly from one to look at Danny. "I want a crate of bananas. Now." A look from Danny had the other customers  backing up, waiting. After a couple seconds of waiting, Danny soon had the crate. Not bothering to thank the man, he held it up high, over his head. Then he walked straight into the crowd, which parted immediately to let him through.
A couple minutes later, he found Catostylus leaning heavily against a wall, holding onto his stump, a pained look across his face.
"You all right?" Danny asked, studying him
The ex-guard nodded quickly, wiping sweat from his brow. "Y-yes, I… just needed to rest for a bit." Danny waited patiently as he gathered himself, finally standing, and heading down the road. With Danny nearby, crate held high in the air, people gave them their space. Danny grinned, planning on keeping the empty crate and using it whenever he walked with Catostylus. They wouldn't know what was in the crate… or that it was empty.
"Here we are," Catostylus said. Danny set the crate aside and looked over the plot of land. No one had been here in a long time; Danny hated that, hated his mom for that. It was like they had forgotten this place had existed or shoved out it out of their minds. The posts had eroded down to little more than lumps on the ground. But Danny knew the place well. He knelt down, found the crevice. With a grunt, he pulled open the door, hinges creaking from misuse.
"We're going to have to oil those," Catostylus muttered to himself, "and replace those posts."
Danny nodded. "Yeah." He pushed the trapdoor up the rest of the way, coughing as a fine cloud of dust and sand flew into his face. "And clean," he groaned. Danny hated cleaning. Propping the door open, Danny picked up the crate and, after Catostylus had entered, leapt down himself.
It was dark. It was dank. Layers of cobwebs clung to the kiln and the empty shelves. An overturned chair was soon set straight by the ex-guard. Danny ran a hand about the wall, looking around the room. Nothing seemed to have changed. The last time he had seen this room, about a decade ago, it had been cleaner, sure, but other than that, it was exactly as it was ,exactly as Iru had left it.
"We're going to have to see how the stall connects with the underground part," Danny observed, sitting down on a tiny bench.  He ran his fingers across the smooth stone, feeling the familiarity of his old bed. He grinned. This shop, his father's shop, would be his. The thought excited him to no end.
"Yup. And we'll have to see about getting people to recognize you as a jar maker. Being self taught, well, I won't lie to you, Danny boy, it's going to be difficult to get started. People want quality and since…"
"Yeah, yeah. I know," Danny said, waving him off. "Dad would have said the same thing, except he would have stuttered. I should have paid attention to the tutors." He sighed. "Well, let's get started."
Both Namuh stood and began working. Using his shirt, Danny beat down the spider's webs, airing it outside when it got too dirty. Catostylus kept himself busy, sweeping up the floor, and finding the poles to open up the front of the shop.
"Danny boy," Catostylus said, soon after they had begun their work.
"Huh?"
"Your dad would be proud of you."
Danny grinned and continued his cleaning.

~*~*~*~

"Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!" The continuous sputtering rose up through the still air, a frantic jingling accompanying it. Down in the sand, he struggled to walk, each step weighing him down and dragging him deeper into the sand. "Wh-why quicksand?!" He cried,  struggling to free his feet. His bell answered him fretfully, ringing and he yanked and pulled his legs.
It had been a complete accident. He had dozed off, hadn't paid attention to the subtle change in sand. And now he was paying for it. Every step was a fight and the sticky sand clung to him, fat, hot fingers that dug into his pants and legs, weighing him down and sinking his body further into the pit.
With a last cry, he managed to grip the side of the quicksand and regular sand. Throwing his chest to the solider ground, he grabbed at the loose grains which decided to be difficult and dance away from his grasping fingers. He groaned as he felt himself slip away, felt the ground pull back itself. Frantically searching, his eyes landed on a nearby rock, just barely sticking up from the earth away from him.
Forcing himself up, his tongue shot from his mouth, just barely managing to wrap about it. Iru let out a sigh of relief. Relaxing his body, the initial panic over, Iru slowly inched his way out, flexing and relaxing the muscles in his legs. Flowing like water, his legs slipped free, wet and covered with sand. Iru sat on the edge, continuing to creep away from the quicksand, until, finally – finally! – his feet came out with a slight pop. The disturbed quicksand soon smoothed out, as if Iru hadn't been there moments before. The surface blended in with the rest of the sand, wind lines matching up almost perfectly with the safe sand and color almost identical.
Iru inched back more, tugging his scarf over what remained of his nose, and clutched the bell to his chest, its muted ringing soft sounds of reassurance comforting him. "Never again," he told it, shifting his hand slightly so it rang in response. "Never again will I wander into quicksand.
And he stood, brushing off the pitiful remains of his pants. The past five years had been hard, yet, just as he promised Catostylus, he survived. More and more of his skin was ripped away, replaced with the scabs, acting like a carapace, protecting him and numbing him against pain. However, parts of his nose and ears did not grow back and he was slowly losing them which didn't bother Iru as much as he thought it should. What did bother him, though, was the loss of his hair. Whenever he ran a hand through his hair, there were missing patches that worried him to no end.
With a sigh, he turned from the quicksand, and went on his way, wrapping his cloak about him to shield against the rays of the sun.
And then the world went back.
He was aware of slipping, of losing his balance. The world was torn out from under him, flipping him about and tossing him around like a cat with a mouse.  He flailed for some solid land, something to grab to, to straighten himself out.
But he didn't stop spinning, circling out of control. Then he was crushed, pressed in on from all sides. He couldn't move, couldn't feel or breathe. The slight twitching of his fingers was all that he could do. No matter what he did, he could move nothing more. He was caught in inky blackness, suffocating.
Iru thought that he was underground for a bit. It certainly felt like he was surrounded by sand. But like nothing before. His head pulsated and throbbed, beating like a drum. Dizzy and sick, he continued twitching his fingers, trying to dig himself out.
And then it struck him, sending a new wave of panic through his immobile body. He was stuck in the sand. Upside down. To get out, Iru realized, he would have to flip himself over and then dig upwards.
But he never got the chance. His hands, over his head, suddenly hit cold air. They flinched, curling up into fists before Iru dug at the sand still holding him captive, pulling and yanking at the grains. His arms slipped free easily – more so than he would have thought. When he freed his head and yanked himself free, he saw why.
He indeed saw that he was upside down.  And that was all he saw before his body freed itself with a sickening sucking noise. Wind rushed about him. His bell rang loudly, screaming along with him before he hit his head and was lost in darkness once more.

~*~*~*~

"This is getting ridiculous."
They talked as if he wasn't there.
"Too much trouble, this one is. Really."
Or as if they didn't care that he was there.
"I think we need to take more drastic measures."
No. They still knew he was there. And they cared that he heard. They wanted to scare him. And it worked.
"Iru Kandji."
He shuddered at his name. Not even a name to them. A project. A job. Something that needed to confess, that needed to break, that needed to vanish and leave no trace.
"Iru Kandji."
He didn't react. Just hung on the wall, suspended since the first time he woke up and wished he had stayed in darkness forever.
"Your family, Iru Kandji?"
He yanked at the chains and manacles suddenly, mangled hands wrapping about, sending an echo of the struggle through the room. Glaring at them lividly, he tried hiding his fear.
"Aurelia Kandji. Daniel Kandji."
He didn't listen, didn't let his fears be recognized. He had to escape. Had to get away, back to his wife, his child. If these people got to his beautiful family…
"Subdue him."
A sharp crack, resounding like thunder as Iru's head shot back from the punch, slamming into the stone behind him. Dazed, the clattering of chains stopped as his hands fell limp.
"It would be a shame, Iru, if they got hurt. Wouldn't it?"
No answer. He had no answer that they didn't already know.
"Yes, it would be a shame. But, you are a strong man."
Lies. Or truth?
"You can still protect them."
Iru opened his mouth, slurred something that was ignored.
"Just tell us what you did. Tell us that you sinned against the Goddess."
He never did anything like that, he tried telling them. Again, he was ignored.
"Or else we'll have to bring in some extra incentive."
At that, his head was lifted up, eyes prompted into opening. A shiny knife reflected his own blood stained, dull and dying expression.
"Surely you don't want to see them turn into this?"
Iru shook his head. No, he didn't.
"Puh-please…" he murmured. "D-D-Don't hurt them…"
His head was released. And they asked him again. Everything again. Each question that he screamed at, cried at, and denied, he answered. Told them what could keep his family safe.
Yes, he had sinned against the Goddess.
Yes, he had scarified other Namuh to the many Hells below in an attempt to bring destruction to their home and Havens.
Yes, the Namuh he sacrificed was part of the guard.
Yes, he was guilty. Guilty, guilty, guilty.
And, finally, yes. He accepted the  charges put against him.
"Was that too hard?" They asked.
It was the hardest thing he had ever done.

~*~*~*~
Iru groaned, rubbing his aching head. When he brought his hand away, it was sticky and wet with blood. Despite disliking the taste, he licked it off, swallowing the metallic liquid and grimacing. It was salty, and gross. But he needed his blood in him, not outside.
Pressing a hand to the head wound,  Iru looked about himself, mouth gaping in wonder. Everywhere about him. Green stone. Dark, luscious green, the color of leaves after being watered well. They reflected what rays of sun seeped in through the ceiling, gleaming coldly down the large tunnel. Iru tugged his  shirt up, finding his cloak  a small ways away. And he grabbed them as well, once he untangled himself from his scarf, which had wrapped about him like a snake, clinging to his legs and waist, choking his neck.
Wrapping the cloak about him, Iru glanced down the hall. Despite the sparse rays of sun that came down from above, it was difficult to see. And the light seemed muted, cold. The light lost its luster, as if its magnificence was absorbed by the green rocks, sucked in greedily, reflected out in poor attempts to mimic its greatness.
But it was pale in comparison. While the emerald like rocks seemed splendid, once Iru looked closely, they radiated something all their own. Iru's maimed left hand reached out, caressing the rocks, immediately pulling back. The rocks were not slimy or disgusting to the touch.
WHOOO!!! CAUGHT UP!

21662 words left!
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