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citrakayahWrote this for the Wanderer's Library's art exchange (I got a picture of a pride of Ethiopian lava cats) and told redsixwing that I'd post it to my journal later. So here it is. It's a little unpolished and the ending is a little blunt, so I might go back later and revise it. I've never written for the Journal of the Walk before, but still enjoyed this.
Oh, and since it was for the Wanderer's Library this is under CC BY-SA 3.0.
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The Journal of the Walk, Thursday, October 11th
Mud sucked at my boots as I walked under a crimson-speckled sky. Earlier they had been bright as twilight, but now they were much dimmer. A cluster of stars were directly overhead, but they seemed to cast little light. Despite the black of night I could easily see the trail ahead of me, glowing flowers studding the mangroves' trunks lit their canopies from below. Fireflies of many colors darted between them, supping bioluminescent nectar. They glowed just a bit brighter after every visit.
I could tell that I was walking on wood, but the waters had risen so high as to swamp the welts of my boots. I had heard much of the roots of these trees on my way to Kaghe, of how they formed stilts, yet all was concealed by the tide. Still, I went on. I have found that when one is in a sticky situation, it's usually best to stay to one's path.
My steadfastness was rewarded. Further along the path I came to a wall of great white glazed bricks. Each was the height of a man and the wall was a dozen bricks high. As I usually do when entering a city, I stopped to inspect them. You can learn much about a place by examining its walls--their nature, where they are in good repair, how attractive they are, and how quick the guards are to fuss when you stop to look at them.
These were immaculately clean, with not a speck of dirt or moss. They were covered with varicolored figures of birds and sea life that spanned multiple bricks. I could only see the cracks between them when I leaned close. As I had not yet reached the gatehouse, I tried to insert my pocket-knife between them. Not even the tip of the blade would slip through—and having often used it for cutting vegetables and rope, I can attest that it is quite sharp. Perhaps I could have forced the issue, but as I hoped for a good reception within I dared not scratch the finish.
By this time the water was to my ankles and the guards had spotted me. Rather than complain about my inspection of the walls—and you would be surprised how many guards do—they called to me, gesturing for me to come with all three arms that protruded from their central orb. Though I could not make out their words they sounded legitimately frightened. I walked over, though admittedly not as quickly as I could have, and began ascending the stairs.
"Whatever is the problem?" I asked upon cresting the landing.
"Faster! The tide comes, and Kaghe's gates close soon." Indeed, by this time the waters had risen further, covering the lowest stairs. More quickly, I hurried through, then looked back behind me. I could see no other travelers. And indeed, since entering the mangroves I hadn't seen any others. Still, with them already starting to close the gates, I had to ask.
"Are you not worried others might come?"
"They may," one said. "But we can take no risks, traveler. Had you come even an instant later, we would have had to shut the gates before you entered and you would have drowned!" Two of them continued to crank the great winch, working as one. "You shouldn't have been out when the tides were so close."
"No one told me of it!" I protested. With a clang, the great doors shut. I could barely even see the seam. "Is the tide not done rising?"
It was impossible to really tell with the people of Kaghe, for their central orbs are studded with unblinking eyes. But I swear that they stared at me. "The tide will rise nearly to the height of our walls! All but the tallest trees will be underwater, and will remain so for many brightenings. You chose a poor night to visit Kaghe." I hadn't planned on spending much time in Kaghe, but this wouldn't be my first time having to linger somewhere, and at a glance Kaghe seemed a pleasant place to do so, so I continued on without comment.
Past the pristine wall, past the immaculate gatehouse, was a riotous collection of porcelain towers. But unlike the wall, these came in every color one could imagine and they were badly overgrown. Vines grew over glazed brick. Fruit trees sprouted from where soil had accumulated. Platforms and roofs held entire fields' worth of grasses and flowers. Birds were roosting on every surface and Kaghe was raucous with their calls. The walls extended out into the ocean, rising far above the waters and enclosing a small lagoon. Several dozen boats were tied to posts extending from the walls and netting was stretched between other parts of the walls to shade the waters.
The inn I found to stay in was close to the lagoon, along a canal that ran from the lagoon deeper into the city. While it ran perfectly straight, it went on for so long that I could not see the end. Fish, glowing as brightly as the flowers had, formed a massive school that seemed to stretch the length of the canal. I asked the innkeeper upon entering and learned that prior to the tides rising, many kinds of fish swam through great sluice-gates to seek shelter from the turbid waters. They would stay here, the innkeeper said, until the waters receded. Then the sluice-gates would be lowered and they would go back into the swamps and the reef.
While all Kaghe's buildings were somewhat overgrown, the inn was worse. It was so overgrown I could scarcely believe it still inhabitable, but the owner was pleasant enough and the rooms proved comfortable, so I decided to stay. And rather than walk the city, I decided to sit and rest my legs on the porch until dinner. I was the only person there, so rather than talk of my travels I watched the fish in the canal and took in the view. While the sluice-gates were closed, more birds were arriving by the hour. They drew my attention so effectively that soon I was hardly paying notice to the canal. Only as the sound of splashing grew closer did I look back down.
It wasn't a boat or a school of fish making the noise, that much was immediately obvious. It was massive and moved just below the surface of the canal, creating a bow wave as it drew near. Once it was next to the inn, it stopped, and for a moment all was still except for rippling water. Then chitinous legs hooked over the edge of the canal, and an enormous crab dragged themselves out of the waters.
They were such a dark brown as to be nearly black. Their claws were thin and narrow and their bore four of them. Quickly they scuttled closer to the porch, and I quickly backed away to the opposite side. But they seemed uninterested in me. Instead, they picked up a chair and began breaking it into long, narrow pieces. These they ran through their mouthparts and stuck onto their shell. When they'd finished with the chair, they moved on to a table. Initial alarm gave way to curiosity and my attention moved from their claws to their shell. There were jagged shards of wood stuck there, ones that had clearly been there even before the crab began ripping apart the furniture. But none were longer than a few inches.
The innkeeper rushed out, banging pots together in the crab's direction. Their antennae flattened and they started to scuttle away. Somehow, they almost seemed guilty. "What is that?" I asked after my ears had stopped ringing.
"Woodscrab. Must have gotten in through the sluice-gates before they were shut," they grumbled. "Not dangerous, just trouble. They use the wood to blend in." The crab started slinking closer again, low to the ground, and the innkeeper banged another the pots together again. "Get! Get! Xysii!" they continued, calling louder. "Get their attention over to the tree, would you?"
Again the crab retreated, but this time another one of the innkeepers was shaking one of the mangrove trees growing partially over the building. The rustling seemed to draw their attention, and they scurried over as Xysii retreated.
"They were covered in broken shards of wood. Were they in a fight?" I asked. It seemed strange, since the woodscrab was uninjured, but I could not think of a better explanation.
"No," the innkeeper said, returning inside. I moved to follow. "It was the tidal bore, I think. A few of them do this every two years, when the tidestars are aligned in syzygy. And every time, they make trouble." They put the pans away, seeming calmer now. I sat down in a nearby chair.
"Why not try to keep them out?" I asked. I was puzzled, for as curious as these creatures were seldom have I come to a city where the dwellers were happy to see such beasts come within.
The innkeeper gestured to the window, where I could see the woodscrab snipping off sections of mangrove tree growing over the inn and fastening these pieces to their shell. "If we did, they could not trim back the growth. As much trouble as they are, things are in balance. Disturbing them would only cause ruin, and to stop a little inconvenience. We are not the Eight Kings of Glass and Clay, to create perfection wrought from porcelain."
For several brightenings I stayed in at that inn in Kaghe. The woodscrab lingered too, and by the time we both left, the outside of the inn was nearly bare.
redsixwing that I'd post it to my journal later. So here it is. It's a little unpolished and the ending is a little blunt, so I might go back later and revise it. I've never written for the Journal of the Walk before, but still enjoyed this.Oh, and since it was for the Wanderer's Library this is under CC BY-SA 3.0.
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The Journal of the Walk, Thursday, October 11th
Mud sucked at my boots as I walked under a crimson-speckled sky. Earlier they had been bright as twilight, but now they were much dimmer. A cluster of stars were directly overhead, but they seemed to cast little light. Despite the black of night I could easily see the trail ahead of me, glowing flowers studding the mangroves' trunks lit their canopies from below. Fireflies of many colors darted between them, supping bioluminescent nectar. They glowed just a bit brighter after every visit.
I could tell that I was walking on wood, but the waters had risen so high as to swamp the welts of my boots. I had heard much of the roots of these trees on my way to Kaghe, of how they formed stilts, yet all was concealed by the tide. Still, I went on. I have found that when one is in a sticky situation, it's usually best to stay to one's path.
My steadfastness was rewarded. Further along the path I came to a wall of great white glazed bricks. Each was the height of a man and the wall was a dozen bricks high. As I usually do when entering a city, I stopped to inspect them. You can learn much about a place by examining its walls--their nature, where they are in good repair, how attractive they are, and how quick the guards are to fuss when you stop to look at them.
These were immaculately clean, with not a speck of dirt or moss. They were covered with varicolored figures of birds and sea life that spanned multiple bricks. I could only see the cracks between them when I leaned close. As I had not yet reached the gatehouse, I tried to insert my pocket-knife between them. Not even the tip of the blade would slip through—and having often used it for cutting vegetables and rope, I can attest that it is quite sharp. Perhaps I could have forced the issue, but as I hoped for a good reception within I dared not scratch the finish.
By this time the water was to my ankles and the guards had spotted me. Rather than complain about my inspection of the walls—and you would be surprised how many guards do—they called to me, gesturing for me to come with all three arms that protruded from their central orb. Though I could not make out their words they sounded legitimately frightened. I walked over, though admittedly not as quickly as I could have, and began ascending the stairs.
"Whatever is the problem?" I asked upon cresting the landing.
"Faster! The tide comes, and Kaghe's gates close soon." Indeed, by this time the waters had risen further, covering the lowest stairs. More quickly, I hurried through, then looked back behind me. I could see no other travelers. And indeed, since entering the mangroves I hadn't seen any others. Still, with them already starting to close the gates, I had to ask.
"Are you not worried others might come?"
"They may," one said. "But we can take no risks, traveler. Had you come even an instant later, we would have had to shut the gates before you entered and you would have drowned!" Two of them continued to crank the great winch, working as one. "You shouldn't have been out when the tides were so close."
"No one told me of it!" I protested. With a clang, the great doors shut. I could barely even see the seam. "Is the tide not done rising?"
It was impossible to really tell with the people of Kaghe, for their central orbs are studded with unblinking eyes. But I swear that they stared at me. "The tide will rise nearly to the height of our walls! All but the tallest trees will be underwater, and will remain so for many brightenings. You chose a poor night to visit Kaghe." I hadn't planned on spending much time in Kaghe, but this wouldn't be my first time having to linger somewhere, and at a glance Kaghe seemed a pleasant place to do so, so I continued on without comment.
Past the pristine wall, past the immaculate gatehouse, was a riotous collection of porcelain towers. But unlike the wall, these came in every color one could imagine and they were badly overgrown. Vines grew over glazed brick. Fruit trees sprouted from where soil had accumulated. Platforms and roofs held entire fields' worth of grasses and flowers. Birds were roosting on every surface and Kaghe was raucous with their calls. The walls extended out into the ocean, rising far above the waters and enclosing a small lagoon. Several dozen boats were tied to posts extending from the walls and netting was stretched between other parts of the walls to shade the waters.
The inn I found to stay in was close to the lagoon, along a canal that ran from the lagoon deeper into the city. While it ran perfectly straight, it went on for so long that I could not see the end. Fish, glowing as brightly as the flowers had, formed a massive school that seemed to stretch the length of the canal. I asked the innkeeper upon entering and learned that prior to the tides rising, many kinds of fish swam through great sluice-gates to seek shelter from the turbid waters. They would stay here, the innkeeper said, until the waters receded. Then the sluice-gates would be lowered and they would go back into the swamps and the reef.
While all Kaghe's buildings were somewhat overgrown, the inn was worse. It was so overgrown I could scarcely believe it still inhabitable, but the owner was pleasant enough and the rooms proved comfortable, so I decided to stay. And rather than walk the city, I decided to sit and rest my legs on the porch until dinner. I was the only person there, so rather than talk of my travels I watched the fish in the canal and took in the view. While the sluice-gates were closed, more birds were arriving by the hour. They drew my attention so effectively that soon I was hardly paying notice to the canal. Only as the sound of splashing grew closer did I look back down.
It wasn't a boat or a school of fish making the noise, that much was immediately obvious. It was massive and moved just below the surface of the canal, creating a bow wave as it drew near. Once it was next to the inn, it stopped, and for a moment all was still except for rippling water. Then chitinous legs hooked over the edge of the canal, and an enormous crab dragged themselves out of the waters.
They were such a dark brown as to be nearly black. Their claws were thin and narrow and their bore four of them. Quickly they scuttled closer to the porch, and I quickly backed away to the opposite side. But they seemed uninterested in me. Instead, they picked up a chair and began breaking it into long, narrow pieces. These they ran through their mouthparts and stuck onto their shell. When they'd finished with the chair, they moved on to a table. Initial alarm gave way to curiosity and my attention moved from their claws to their shell. There were jagged shards of wood stuck there, ones that had clearly been there even before the crab began ripping apart the furniture. But none were longer than a few inches.
The innkeeper rushed out, banging pots together in the crab's direction. Their antennae flattened and they started to scuttle away. Somehow, they almost seemed guilty. "What is that?" I asked after my ears had stopped ringing.
"Woodscrab. Must have gotten in through the sluice-gates before they were shut," they grumbled. "Not dangerous, just trouble. They use the wood to blend in." The crab started slinking closer again, low to the ground, and the innkeeper banged another the pots together again. "Get! Get! Xysii!" they continued, calling louder. "Get their attention over to the tree, would you?"
Again the crab retreated, but this time another one of the innkeepers was shaking one of the mangrove trees growing partially over the building. The rustling seemed to draw their attention, and they scurried over as Xysii retreated.
"They were covered in broken shards of wood. Were they in a fight?" I asked. It seemed strange, since the woodscrab was uninjured, but I could not think of a better explanation.
"No," the innkeeper said, returning inside. I moved to follow. "It was the tidal bore, I think. A few of them do this every two years, when the tidestars are aligned in syzygy. And every time, they make trouble." They put the pans away, seeming calmer now. I sat down in a nearby chair.
"Why not try to keep them out?" I asked. I was puzzled, for as curious as these creatures were seldom have I come to a city where the dwellers were happy to see such beasts come within.
The innkeeper gestured to the window, where I could see the woodscrab snipping off sections of mangrove tree growing over the inn and fastening these pieces to their shell. "If we did, they could not trim back the growth. As much trouble as they are, things are in balance. Disturbing them would only cause ruin, and to stop a little inconvenience. We are not the Eight Kings of Glass and Clay, to create perfection wrought from porcelain."
For several brightenings I stayed in at that inn in Kaghe. The woodscrab lingered too, and by the time we both left, the outside of the inn was nearly bare.
