Author: James D. Mills
SOIL — Part Four
FOUR The bairns speak trilling voices in the night, harsh echoes dancing, afright of the hoary and weighty squalor of unending sleep. Messages delivered nigh, grasped in sharp talons of ravens, crows, pigeons; whether the cock-crows or refuses to show. May our dreams stay safe; for our sleeps are fraught and the days, so dark, as the sun burrows deep, quaffs the Devil’s draught, As if the accursed swill were as naught but cool, clear water, a gentle man’s drink, atop the Great Mothers’ hill. Ithica (b. 413). Journaled year 442. I After living in the temperate embrace of the…
SOIL — Part Three
THREE Oft I’ve seen you in the night, or a wan image of you. A pale imitation compared to your brilliance and bright devotion by day. Oft my dreams are fraught. Corrupted echos of memories long faded, extinguished. Long have I languished in nightmares beset; they fall upon me, gnashing, dark creatures of the long black night. Though tonight, it shall not be black demon nor red devil that plagues ill mine troubled thoughts. Nay, I see you, my father as you were in my youth. And you visit my dreams, in your arms you carry another. A boy with…
SOIL — Part Two
TWO Why must the wind blow when Earth does not know that the Mourning Sun shines, as my light slowly declines? How many years must I wait for you, so belated, to arrive? For how long must I hate, curdling mine blood that turns to shit like soured butter lodged in the devil’s churn? How many moons must I fester brining within bitter salt? Must I scream my soul’s lament, cast mine curse upon the gods for all they have wrought? Or shall I sing a sweet refrain awake tomorrow and do it all again? Ithica (b. 413). Journaled Year…
SOIL — Part One
ONE In the dead of night I pray for your arrival and dream of your smile yearning for your scent. By the light of day I am left alone beside myself and entirely distraught. To know your father is to know your potential to hear Bridget’s plans and to see them in action with hopes they soon come to pass. Ithica (b. 413). Journaled Year 433. I Year 442 Loathsome winds howled their bitter protests as I shouldered my way up the slope, still slick with ice and hard-packed snow. Last storm was days past, but the early Winter freeze…
Thoughts of the Drowned — Prologue to SOIL
“I ain’t ever had a friend like you,” said Snorri Morn, his meaty arms slung over my neck. Snorri was a great bloody ox of a man, back when he was alive, full of drink, piss, and rage. Twice as mean as a mother bear defending her cubs, and half as loving. I bloody loathed the man and I don’t regret what I’ve done. “In all my years,” he went on, seeming to burp between every word, “I ain’t ever—I mean ever—had a friend like you.” We’d been deep in the cups that night. My head was a swill of…
Ashen Rider — Part Five
FIVE Today, I have found my god. She had strayed from me once, “Follow me!” she commanded, Then left me bleeding On cold, slick tiles. I had asked my family, All that they knew. “Love,” one said. “Accountability,” nodded another. Grace in all things, forgiveness in others. Who is this god we seek? And why Hasn’t she been revealed to me? I asked my lord of his god. And he said, “I have none.” For in his realm, There is only blood. I’ve lived long and hungry, Awaiting the day, I’d again know peace. Today, I have found my god.…
Ashen Rider — Part Four
FOUR Let me tell you, boy A tale of down below. Where the days are hard And the beds are stone. I’ll tell you the tale Of when time had split. And the fires of hell Were our only light. Ephraim (-54 to 47) “Down Below,” published Year 40. I — In the sky, crossing the threshold Grahtzildahn, second layer of Pandemonium The dreamlike threshold separating the unceasing storms of the Vale Betwixt shimmered with the furnace heat of Grahtzildahn. The nearer they drew, the sorcerous wall appeared more like an illusion than something material. The barrier danced, milky tendrils jittering…
Ashen Rider — Part Three
THREE You have been robbed. Of something. You didn’t know. Could be taken. Syr Arthur Cain (-13 to 35) “Awakening,” published Year 36. I — A conversation, somewhere far away. The Kaza’dur left a gross power vacuum in their wake. In the years following your knighthood, you rose through the ranks of Valentine Aristocracy. Valencia was no longer a humble fortress, subservient to a crumbling empire. The Kaldean capital, the Great City of Baltaire, fell the instant the invasion began. Once the Lord Governor Vidoq perished of dysentery, Syr Laszlo Balderas the First put a crown upon his head and declared…