Writers Around the World - Anthology (Volume One)

The day was coming to an end. The afternoon sun had climbed down, faster than he would have wished, and was almost on the horizon. He hated the dark. The nights scared him.

  He walked down the busy streets of Alkameth, a small town by the coasts, surrounded by lush green lands in all the directions except for the west. People brushed him around, not even bothering to apologize. He hated this city; hated the lack of discipline in it. He wished he could escape it but outside, his father’s men were searching. The woods around were not safe. Thinking of this town as a safety net, he had rushed into it, unaware of the fact that the city took unkindly to strangers. It was not that this city entirely hated strangers but they did not do sweet talk with them, unlike the cities he had been, which were mostly inland. The problem lay with the city itself and not him. It had been attacked by pirates and unscrupulous people in the past years and it distrusted most strangers. This distrust was the cause the travelers were mostly unwelcome.

  As a stranger, he had certainly felt like being asked to leave; but he had persisted. He had stayed here for two months despite all the arrogance of its citizens. He sometimes asked himself how he had survived for too long and also, surprised that his father’s men had not taken upon themselves to search this town once they had failed to find him in the woods. He had to escape now. The town was weighing on him.

  His robes were dripping with sweat. His chest heaving, his body weary, he wanted to retire to his quarters before the sun dipped below the horizon. But the crowd on the street hampered his quick movements. He cursed again.

  People were busy humming through the market. Vendors called out to them, offering them reduced prices to get their sales up, but each one of them looked at him like he was a thief about to steal from them. Even when he had gone farther from their stalls, he felt their eyes boring into him.

  His steps quickened careful however not to brush anybody. He was slim and athletic and was clad in light robes. He did not think it was difficult to slide through the rushing crowd.

  He wanted to be away from the roaring voices. But how? The only way was to get off the market street. His eyes searched for a way out. To the right loomed a huge gray wall built of formidable stone which protected the city and to his left were the stalls housing those who he was trying to escape. There was no other street leading away from where he was. Why did he ever take this route? It was the shortest but the most crowded.

  “Lord Silas,” called out a voice. He turned around to see a middle aged man wearing a red turban on his head approach him, walking as fast he could.  He did not know him although his face seemed vaguely familiar. He tried to remember where he had seen him before but his memory failed to respond.

  “Er…who?” asked he, his tone warily curious.

  “Don’t you remember me? I used to serve your father, Lord Silas. And then he sent me into exile for telling the truth and standing upto him. You were there in the court but younger, standing beside the Lord Si.”.

  “I am extremely sorry but I do not recall your name. Would you kind as to divulge?” he asked.

  The man shook his head. “I expected more from a descendant of your grandfathers who come verily from the line of Lord Beltharion. That line is said to have been blessed with good memory yet I see that it is not so. However, I am Kahn the Wanderer, previously a lord of the Throndings.”

  “Previously?”

  “Yes. Your father exiled me and I then became a wanderer.”

  “And why do you seek me now?” asked Silas.

  “In good faith, my lord. We have matters to discuss. Little birds tell me that you are seeking to escape your father’s huntsmen. I also know they have followed you far.”

  “How do you…?”

  Kahn did not allow him to continue his question. With a smile on his face, he said, “Where I found the answers is not any of our concern at the moment. If you will accept my invitation, would you accompany me to The Baskets?”

  He was still doubtful of this man. Questions raged in his mind. Should he trust him? What if he gave him over to his father’s men? How did he know so much about him? But he could not find his answers. Seeing no other choice but to follow him, he nodded.

  Kahn smiled. “Good! You are as I hoped for. Now to business!”

  He heard Kahn give a hoot. It sounded like a night-owl but Silas was not wary of it. The people in this town used such a cry to hail a plying horse-carriage. Like he expected, a carriage drawn by two brawny mares stopped by them, the driver raising his whip and lashing at the stony ground.

  “Where to, my lords?” asked the driver, looking at him with furrowed brows.

  Kahn smiled. “Take us to The Baskets if you will. And faster!”

  The driver nodded his head and motioned to the back of the cart. “To The Baskets it is. And faster I will take you, for none is there in this city who can take you to any place herein quicker than old Murdoch.”

  Kahn led him to the seats which were inside a wooden cabin. The cabin was painted leathery black on the outside but as he jumped into it, he found himself sitting upon a lush green, beautiful but narrow couch bordered by the posh red walls. A single square-shaped window was left open on the wall opposite the couch if the passengers wanted to commune with the driver. However, there were two oval windows on either side of them, one just above the handle of the door to the left of him. These windows could be covered however by golden yellow curtains which could be moved across a steel rod.

  Silas had never sat in such a rich carriage. Even his carriage back home lacked such lustre and beauty.

  Kahn seemed to have read his mind. “This carriage does not belong to old Murdoch, Lord Silas. If he was indeed the owner, why would he want to ply people to and fro across the city? Nay, all these carriages belong to Lady Theresa who people call the Silver Lady.”

  “The Silver Lady? Why do they call her that?” he asked, clearly ignorant about this rich woman.

  “Ah, that is because of her apparent liking for everything silver. Even most of her dresses and robes are silver. It is said that during her marriage, she wore a beautiful silver gown instead of white as is the custom and upon her neck was a necklace of silver gems. Why does she like silver? That I cannot tell. Let us just say she has an intriguing affinity towards it.”

  “Strange!” said he. He had heard about people with fetishes but he could not understand how people could be so drawn towards a thing and be so addicted towards it. He found it a little weird. He thanked his fate for not having such obsessions.

  As the carriage drove towards the inner parts of the city, he could see the landscape change. What was once a sprawled marketplace turned into a quiet zone where stone houses lay next to each other, its perimeters indistinguishable as though joined. Most houses boasted the same color: gray with a tint of green; although some had the lilac with a tinge of pink. All the houses were in a row which suggested an efficient planning. He had heard about this architect who had gone by the name of Lord Achaia. It was said that he had built this city out of the stones which were washed up on the shores some way northward when the seas had first risen up as an act of nature. The architect had not known how such boulders had been thrown up by the sea. Many had even termed it as a miracle, as an act of their gods. Miracle or not, Lord Achaia, of course he was not a lord then - being just a talented son of a fallen nobleman -  had enlisted the services of a few of the fishermen from the lands of Rye up north by the Long Isles. He had crafted this city from the stones. This achievement had brought him great accolades and then on, he was consulted upon by many lords and kings to build their mighty citadels.

  Silas had heard of his works; of great arches, of long, mighty bridges, of archaic citadels, of fortress with little flaw; and he had admired them. Seeing now his work for the first time with his very own eyes, he almost felt his life purpose was satiated.

  A pothole in the road, one amongst few in the city, brought him back to his senses. He was aboard a carriage with a strange man who seemed to know him very we
ll. Kahn, he called himself; and he was sitting beside him, silent and thoughtful, looking out of the window beside him.

  Not a few moments later the carriage came to a halt. The driver lashed the whip again. It was time to get out.

  Turning the handle right, he leaped out first, followed by Kahn the Wanderer. Upon getting out, Kahn rummaged in his pouch and handed over a couple of gold coins to the driver who bowed his head in grace.

  The carriage moved along the road leaving them standing idly in front of the inn at whose front was the sign ‘The Baskets’.

  The inn was not large enough but it was ample for a few tourists who wanted a decent inn at affordable rates. All the other inns were a crowded bunch and normally charged heavily for rooms half the size. The Baskets, however, was one of the premier ones but fit for everyone’s purse. It did not distinguish between the rich and the poor.

  The door that led the way inside had a golden yellow handle to it but Silas could tell it was not real gold. It was clearly polished to look good against a teak background, the hue which the door boasted of.

  Kahn pushed it open, the door sliding inside, stopping at a wall. Nodding his head towards Silas in clear beckoning, he stepped inside, turning to the left as he did.

  Silas waited for a moment, clearly deciding whether to go inside or no, but then thought better of getting cold feet and went after the wanderer.

  The common room was not as crowded as the inn he stayed in. He wished he had chosen this inn for his stay but he had not that pleasure. In a crowded place, he could hide well from his pursuers. Here he might have been found quickly and he had no intention to be found. Escape he wanted to, if he could, but even that seemed far away with the men close behind. But here might be his chance, if any faith could be put into this Kahn the Wanderer, he thought, if the exiled lord could guide him towards the escape. He hoped he could otherwise the ride here would be fruitless and he would have another long trip back to his inn.

  As they passed through the common room, a young dwarf stood upon a desk. Kahn stopped and turned towards him and Silas looked at him, amused. A dwarf here! In the midst of everything! What bliss!

  “He sings beautifully. We have time enough to listen to his wonders,” said Kahn.

  Silas nodded his head. He wanted to hear songs. It was too long a time since he had listened to one.

  And then the dwarf began to sing: 

  Fires grow along the coasts

  When will they douse, O lord of Waters?

  Darkness comes

  With sword and flame,

  What should we do, O Lord of Wars?

  Arrows fly, shielding the sky,

  Blood sheds the ground

  Shields are up,

  But they are to no avail

  Why has this fallen upon us?

  We pray to the Gods,

  We help the poor,

  We do everything we can,

  Yet here we are

  Amidst turmoil and sin,

  To see with our own eyes,

  The darkness getting stronger.

  Why don’t you brighten us, O Lord of Light?

  For sure we could

  Do with some hope

  And strength in our hearts,

  To heal the world of its hurt.

  Why don’t you hear our prayers, O Lord of Love?

  Spread we want to

  Those poor victims

  Of carnage and death;

  Come to us,

  We sing and dance beneath the darkening shadows.

  Our armies are naught, we are alone,

  Yet here you may find succor.

  For seas are near

  To wash the filth and our sins

  To carry us to our dooms.

  Will you though atleast heed our words now, O Lord of Seas?

  Will you, will you?

  Answer us, for in them

  Lies our only hope

  Will you come to our aid?

  For we are beset on all the sides

  Except for the Sea.

  Come to us, O Lord of Lords,

  For count we do on you,

  Answer us, our prayers

  We wish they come to you.

  Why would this come to us?

  Tell us, why would it?

  We are good, we are humble,

  Why would you punish us, O Lord of Death?

  What have we done,

  To risk your wrath,

  Save us, O Lord of Fires!

  Thunder strikes, the trees ablaze,

  Why would you send them to us?

  Answer, O Lord of Thunder and Winds!

  Save us from ruin.

  And There it comes,

  A figure so dark,

  Those men lay down and women cry,

  In front of the shadows,

  Come to death, O farmerlings,

  Come to us, We shall take you far away,

  O Come to us, like the wind,

  Let us ride to the brink

  And give ourselves to the seas.

  Come to us, flailing in the storms,

  Let us jump

  From the rocks so high

  To Death! To Death! To Death, we shall fly!

  “Very grim!” remarked Silas.

  “What chance is it? Usually, he sings merry ones, but tonight, he sang otherwise. Come let us go!”

  Saying, Kahn stood up from where he had sat - a cushioned chair in front of a round brown table which smelled of sandalwood grown in the faraway forests in the east. He wondered what they were doing here. The landlord must have paid heavily for them.

  They were soon in a small room; however, it was not clingy unlike his. Again, he wished he had stayed here. This inn was so much better.

  “So what have you got to tell me, Kahn?” asked Silas, not wanting to waste any more time.

  “Straight to business then? I wanted to first ask you to make yourselves comfortable.”

  “It’s not like we are here to acquaint ourselves, Kahn. You said you had something of import to me and here I want to know what it is. I hope the information is useful otherwise all this journey would be proved futile.”

  Kahn glared at him which made Silas feel a little uncomfortable, causing him to turn away to face a small but beautiful chandelier which was hung on the ceiling.

  “Well, atleast sit down, my friend!” said Kahn, his tone warm.

  Silas stared for a while and then sat down upon a chair, red-cushioned and comfortable.

  Kahn smiled. “Well, as you know, your father’s men are hot on your trail.” Silas nodded. This information seemed nothing new to him. He had been running from his father for like a year. “But what you do not know is your father’s men are desperate and wanting to capture you at the earliest. I was sitting in the common room listening to the sweet songs of the dwarf whom we just heard downstairs. It was two days ago, I think. A couple of men barged in through the door, confound them for pushing my favorite man who is known for his prompt service here, and went direct to the landlord, asking him about a certain young man whose description rightly fits you. They were certainly rude for the landlord showed them off his property, yelling at them never to come back.”

  “And what were you doing? Spying on the landlord?” asked Silas.

  “Yes but not because I like to. Those men who had come here, I recognized from my days at your father’s service. Belathan and Koz, I think they are called. Loyal and funny men, they once were, but now they seemed grim and afraid, like the very whips of their master were behind them. Pitied them I did. But you caught my interest. I thought something big was going on. Normally, your father’s men wouldn’t venture into this city. But they did which struck me as desperate and strange. So I followed them as far as I would. Their camp is not far away from the walls but is well hidden from prying eyes. Also, they have scouts everywhere, looking out for something or somebody.”

  Silas fidgeted in his chair. “I thought I had eluded them.”

  “That you
have not. Once you leave this city, they will pounce on you like hungry wolves. But they have dared venture into the city. You are not safe here either. You need to leave and quick.”

  “I have run enough. And I don’t know where next. If I leave, I will directly be in their crosshairs. If I stay, they will find me, sooner or later.” He put his hands to his forehead. “I have no idea what to do. I am tired.”

  Kahn smiled. “Then you might need my help.”

  “Why are you willing to help me?” asked Silas.

  “Anything to spite your father, dear boy. For all my loyalty, he chose to exile me, and what for? Speaking the truth? Was that a crime, I ask you?” His eyebrows twitched. “So, yes, I am willing to help you escape your pursuers?”

  “And what may your price be?”

  “No gold, no money of any sort. I am wealthy enough for a wanderer. I desire only to be your friend and companion. I can take you places where your father’s men won’t even find you.”

  “And why should I trust you?” he asked.

  “That is entirely upto you. But let me say this to influence your decision: I know who your mother is and I can help you find her.”

  Excerpt of “Indigo”

  Kate Marie Robbins

  Prologue

  Ava

  My name is Ava, and I’m just your typical teenage girl. I give my parents an attitude. I listen to my music loud. I have blue-purple hair. I guess you’d call it indigo or something. Whatever the color is called, I love it! That’s what matters, right? I have quite a few tattoos. I've been working on full arm sleeves, but we will see if I can ever get enough money to finish that.

  I’m pretty much in love with this guy I go to school with. His name is Evan. I have a best friend, Sera. Who is weird, but I love her anyway. We get into all kinds of trouble together. Not this summer though. For some unknown reason, Sera wanted to learn how to fly her Uncle Mat’s hot air balloon. Being the good friend that I am, I said I would learn with her. How hard can it possibly be?

  “You know Sera, learning how to fly your uncle’s hot air balloon isn’t my idea of an enjoyable way to spend my summer vacation. I can think of, seriously, like a million other things that would be more entertaining than this,” I complain.

  “Like what?” Sera retorts.

  “Oh, I don’t know, slamming my head against a brick wall sounds pretty good right about now.”

  “Ha, shut up Ava! You’re enjoying this and you know it.” Sera throws her empty can of soda at me.

  “Ladies, ladies, are you done quarrelling? We still have a lot of information to go over if you want to take the balloon out on your own,” Mat cuts in.

  Sera and I both plop down on the grass and pretend to listen to the same speech we have been getting every day for the last two weeks. We can repeat it back by heart now, but we know better and keep our mouths shut. Thirty minutes later, we’re in the basket, going up for what we hope is our last supervised flight.

  “You girls are doing great! I think you’re ready to fly solo. Tomorrow, if you want, you can take it out on your own. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds amazing Uncle Mat! Thank you so much for teaching us.” Sera turns to me. “Isn’t this great?”

  “Yeah, sure. Remember, this was all your idea. I just went along with it, because I didn’t want you to have to do it alone.”

  “I do love you for that. You’re such a good friend.”

  I look at my watch, “Uhhh, Sera, it’s getting kinda late. We should be heading back.”

  “Gosh, you’re right.”

  “Alright Ava, Sera, I’ll see you both tomorrow morning.” Mat hugs us both. We load up our gear, climb into my red Saturn and head back towards town.

  “Where do you want to grab dinner at Sera?” I ask.

  She contemplates the question. “Hmm, Subway sounds good.”

  “Subway it is then.” I confirm, nodding my head.

  Later, sitting on my bedroom floor while eating our dinner, I ask Sera, “If we do this hot air balloon thing tomorrow, can we please go see Evan’s band play afterwards? Please! I haven’t seen him in ages. Plus, I kind of already promised him we’d go.”

  “Of course we can go. I know how much you like Evan. Besides, I know this whole hot air balloon thing isn’t your idea of a good time.” She then quickly changes the subject. “You know, you should probably do something with your hair. Your roots are kind of starting to show.”

  “Oh, gosh, are they really!?” Getting up, I look in the mirror and frown. “You’re right, they are. Good thing I bought some hair dye the last time we went to the mall. Help me fix this mess of my hair tonight? I need to look smashing for Evan!”