Friday Fiction: Outcast Episode 4

Episode 4

Mahtek walked south along the narrow wooded path to the temple, keeping his cloak tight to protect against passing eyes and the cold. He stopped for a moment and looked back at the city. He looked at Iandrid and saw a bastion of civilization in the midst of a world of opposing extremes. Built thousands of years ago by humans and ferrics fleeing encroaching dragons, the kings of Iandrid slowly began to build a sphere of influence. Joined by makirs leaving the nearby Djun forest, they eventually forged the kingdom of Imnos, one of the three great realms on this world of Aldernia and the greatest force for balance Mahtek knew.

And now that balance was threatened. Gilneyad, to the northeast, had never been comfortable with the younger kingdom encroaching on their territory. They had had skirmishes in the past, but now, presumably to fortify their borders or for some sort of land grab or political maneuver, the land of the rising sun had launched a full war. Mahtek loved Imnos, and wanted desperately to help its defense. But he had his own matters to attend to now.

He glanced back at the whitish-gray stone wall being completed around the capital city, and hoped that his personal mission would see it safe. He did not trust in the abilities of the generals now leading Imnos’s armies. He shook his head and cast his eyes back downward, continuing along the path. The war was out of his hands now.

A mile or two along the path, he reached the temple he was searching for. A small building of humble wood, Iandrid’s outside temple of Nu sat alone in a small clearing. There was a larger one inside the city, but the priests here only occasionally saw to the common worshipper. This temple was devoted primarily to mediation and study of Nu’s magical arts. Mahtek had a good rapport with the father here. He walked inside.

The unremarkable entryway, where a small font poured a trickle of cool water, gave way to a hall, with meditation chambers on either side. At the end of the hall lay the central chamber, and in it the scales of balance. Pillars on either side of the chamber held up the low, unpresuming ceiling. On the floor, a tableau of two armies, pitted in a never-ending battle, neither side gaining the advantage, sat underneath the grand scales. Two priests, clad in gray robes, sat on either side of the scale in meditation, keeping it perfectly aligned. Each stood up together, and walked the narrow beam to the center. Upon reaching each other, one jumped down and the other assumed an even stance across the fulcrum.

The elder priest approached Mahtek. Mahtek inclined his head. “Father Dorrell,” He greeted.

“You should not be here,” the makir priest answered. Slightly shorter and much older than Mahtek, Dorrell did not bother to hide the creased fur of age. His red eyes had grown dull and his fur was graying, but his voice still held all its strength.

“You mean I should not be in Iandrid,” Mahtek replied. “I need to be here more than ever.”

Dorrell nodded. “You are right,” He said, giving Mahtek a strong hug. “You have lost your balance, my old friend. It is time to find the path of Nu once again.”

“I will need all the immovable fortitude of Nu himself to uncover and defeat the forces against me,” Mahtek said, glancing up at the priest on the scale, still keeping it flat. “A difficult challenge lies ahead.”

“Despite your wisdom, I know you did not come seeking lectures from me. You have come with a question. It disturbs your thoughts, your balance.”

Mahtek nodded and pulled out the sword bearing the unfamiliar sign. “This shortsword bears an insignia I do not recognize. It is similar to the crest of Gilneyad, but with this dagger and drop of blood,” He explained, pointing to the symbols. “I believe whoever this belonged to is behind the plot against me.”

Father Dorrell took the sword in his hand, and looked it over carefully. He breathed deeply through his nostrils, turning it over and considering it. “I do not recognize this insignia any more than you,” He said finally, handing the sword back. “But perhaps you will find the answers you seek in Gilneyad. Surely someone there knows who would bear a crest so similar to theirs.” Dorrell glance upward at nothing and added, “Unless, of course, this is merely a diversion to keep you from the path of truth.”

“I do not think so,” Mahtek replied, shaking his head. “I wasn’t meant to find this. Someone made a mistake. This is the key, and if I have to find the answers in Gilneyad itself, then so be it.”

Dorrell turned to look directly into Mahtek’s eyes. He gazed at them for a moment, then spoke, “Very well. You have decided your path. But if it takes you to Gilneyad, then you will need magic,” He began to lead the way to one of the meditation chambers in the hallway. “You were never particularly skilled with the ice of Nu, but I can teach you a little.” As they walked down the hallway, a shadow slid from behind one of the pillars, ducked past them as they entered the first room, and crept out the front door.

Friday Fiction: Outcast Episode 3

Make sure to start from the beginning. And episode 2.

Mahtek ran to the end of the alleyway. He peered out and saw people looking around and talking loudly, confusedly. Soon they would realize that he had to be nearby. He stopped to think for a moment. He looked back the other way to see the patrolman running at him. He didn’t have time to think. He threw the cloak on quickly and did the only thing he could: he ran.

He barreled into the street, knocking aside anyone standing in his way. People stared at him, the realization dawning that here was the man all the commotion was about. They began to shout. Mahtek kept running, glancing side to side for somewhere, anywhere he could hide. He ducked into an alleyway, out into the opposite street, trying to avoid his pursuit.

Spotting a merchant with some stock hanging from a large pack bolg, he jumped atop the beast. It grunted and began to rear back. As the merchant protested, Mahtek leapt upward onto the low roof of a building. He began to scramble across the rooftops. The entire city seemed to be in uproar now, and he realized that atop the buildings he was an easily visible target. In the distance, he could see a few soldiers beginning to move in his direction. They would be here soon, and he was not confident in his ability to escape an organized search. He had to get out of the city quickly.

Now in a residential portion of the city, Mahtek easily jumped across houses of uniform two-story height. But he knew he could not stay up there. He dove into a window of one house as he passed by and found himself in a bedroom. “Nu let there be no one home,” He prayed. He took a moment to catch his breath and consider his options. The soldiers would search the city until they either found him or gave up. And that would take a while. He breathed deeply and meditated.

* * *

Mahtek opened the door to see the state of the pursuit. All around, people were talking hurriedly, worried looks on their faces. He stepped out into the street, keeping his face hidden. “What’s the problem?” He asked a young girl, disguising his voice with a gravelly tone.

“Mahtek Reyin the outcast is back in the city!” came the frightened response.
“Oh dear,” He replied, “You should go home where it’s safe.”

“That’s what I’m doing!” she said as she dashed into the door Mahtek had just left. He blinked, then hurried about like everyone else, his manner apparently nervous. With his hood drawn, he yet again appeared little different than anyone else, as long as they did not study his face.

He carefully maneuvered his way towards the city’s western gate, all the while staying anonymous within the crowd. The soldiers there were turning away people trying to escape a panic they did not quite understand. They pleaded, but the soldiers would not risk letting their quarry escape. Mahtek’s hopes sank; the guards would recognize him instantly if he approached them, and he could not climb the city’s walls without being noticed.

Unexpectedly, another cloaked man ran by, his face shrouded. He ran with purpose, not seeming to flee or pursue. Grasping at a slim chance, Mahtek cried, “There goes the outcast!” pointing at the runner. “Look, he’s hiding his face!” The runner turned to Mahtek, his entire face shrouded but his eyes somehow visible, and winked, then ran on.

The crowd screamed and scattered. The soldiers at the gate ran after him, shouting to get the attention of the rest of the guard. A few of the nearby civilians dashed out the gate. Once again simultaneously disapproving of and grateful for the guards’ lack of discipline, Mahtek moved along with the crowd, finally making his escape.

He headed down the gentle rise outside Iandrid, and made his way towards the nearby temple of Nu. He had friends there who knew him better than the easily frightened common people. Friends who would help him uncover the plot against him.

Friday Fiction: Outcast Episode 2

Make sure you read Episode 1 first! Once again, pronunciation guide is included in the comments.



Now inside the building, Mahtek paused for a moment. The warmth from the fire reminded him how cold it was outside. His cloak provided secrecy, but not warmth. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the heat for just a moment.

Remembering where he was, Mahtek opened his eyes and kept one on the guard, who currently faced away from him. He tiptoed down the hallway. Now out of sight, he took his cloak off again to reveal his furry face and limbs and simple studded armor jerkin.

Mahtek was a makir, one of the many humanoid races on this world. And, like most makirs, he had thin white fur covering his body, retractable claws on his hands and feet, blood-red eyes, and could move with great quickness and agility. He stood just taller than an average human, and his face bore a few lines of age. A scar from a battle long ago left a furless line just beneath his left eye; eyes that rarely brooked any mirth. He had had little to laugh about since the war began.

He knew his cloak would not hide him inside these close corridors, and he didn’t want to remind anyone about the stone-colored side of it. He put it back on, black side out. He continued on his way, encountering no one. To the king of Imnos, the war with Gilneyad was far more important than this building. Most of the army was needed at the front lines, accounting for the sparse guard here and elsewhere in the city. Navigating the familiar corridors, Mahtek found his way to the room he was looking for.

He looked at the door. “Hopefully it’s been fixed,” he muttered to himself. He began to open it slowly. It creaked loudly. Mahtek winced and looked around. Nothing had changed in the empty hallway. He slipped inside, leaving the door open behind him. There it was: a chest marked “evidence”.

He opened the chest and found what he was looking for: a small sword with an unfamiliar insignia on the hilt. It bore what looked like the bright sun of Gilneyad, Imnos’s enemy, but without the lines of radiance, and with a small dagger and drop of blood. Mahtek knew that this insignia was the key to the plot against him. He tucked it onto his belt, and stepped out of the room.

And froze. There, just a few feet away, was the guard from the entrance. A young ferric, sinewy and with reptilian scales, he looked just as surprised as Mahtek. He stuttered for a moment, then shouted, “You! How did – how did you get in here?” He began to reach for his sword.

Shaking off his momentary paralysis, Mahtek drew the blade he had just stolen, roared, and charged the guard at full speed. Panic in his eyes, the guard fumbled for his blade, stumbling backward. Mahtek tucked his shoulder down and crashed into him. The guard fell to the ground, blade still sheathed. Mahtek rubbed his shoulder, put the sword away, and ran on.

He ran through the hallways quickly, no longer concerned with stealth. Dashing around the tight turns, he soon reached the window where he had entered. Looking back, he could hear quick footsteps. The inexperienced guard did not know this building as well as Mahtek had when he was on duty here long ago, but he would catch up soon.

He removed his cloak and stood on the high sill. Taking one end of cloth in each hand, he took a deep breath to focus himself, then jumped. The cloak above him did not slow his descent at all. He managed to hook it over the corner of a lower building’s roof, transferring his momentum through an arc. Just before the bottom of his swing, the cloak unexpectedly slipped off the corner. Mahtek crashed to the ground and fell on his already tender shoulder.

He looked around. He was back in the alley where he first climbed to the window, but closer to the street on the opposite side. He looked back up at the window. The guard had just reached it, and saw him below. “The outcast is in the city!” He shouted loudly enough for anyone nearby to hear. “Mahtek Reyin is in the city!” The patrolling guard on the other street heard the shouts, and shot a plume of flame from his hand into the sky.

“Dierz!” He cursed, “Now the whole city knows I’m here!”



One reason I'm doing this is to gain some exposure for my writing. So please, share this with your friends!

Also, as the story progresses, I will be more and more willing to answer questions about the characters and the world. So if you have a question or other comments, you can post below. In particular, I want to know your thoughts on the length of each segment.

And kudos to you if you get the Elder Scrolls reference.

Friday Fiction: Outcast Episode 1

I have been working on a series of novels for some time. This is the beginning of a new story, set in the same world. I'm hoping to publish it in weekly episodes. I hope you enjoy it! I have included a pronunciation guide in the comments section.



Mahtek Reyin peered out from the alley where he hid. The street before him was mostly empty. A few people, cloaked against the unaccustomed cold, drifted by. Mahtek kept his hood low to hide his face and ducked into the street. A couple walked by him, holding each other close for warmth and whispering to each other. They glanced at him but did not take notice. He looked like just another hapless resident of usually mild Iandrid, unprepared for the cold winter. In a way, his black cloak was sheltering him. Not from the cold, but from the eyes of everyone he walked past.

The building he was looking for lay at the end of the street. Two guards stood watch over the door, and another patrolled the street. Mahtek knew he couldn’t get past them unnoticed. But this was Iandrid, his city, and he had been to this place before. There were other ways in. He fell in step with a passer-by between him and the guards, then slipped down another alley.

Once out of site, he removed his cloak and reversed it. The outside was now a grayish white, almost matching the stone of the buildings. This cloak had originally been intended to hide him from the eyes of his country’s enemies. But now it hid him from his own countrymen just as well. He extended his claws and found cracks in the stone, then began to climb, his target the building’s sole window, above him.

As he clambered upward, the patrolling guard passed the mouth of the alley. Mahtek froze. Anyone closely inspecting the side of the building would have noticed him, but at a quick glance, his cloak blended in sufficiently not to warrant a second thought.

Mahtek began his climb again. Reaching the window, he peered inside carefully. A lone guard sat in the room, inattentive but with a clear view of the window. A small fire burned on the far side of the room. Mahtek ducked below the window and hung there, still, considered his options. His mission was imperative, and this was his only entrance.

An idea occurred to him. He peered through the opening once again. Gathering his focus, he stared intently at the guard. He hadn’t done this in a long time. The guard felt a slight chill, which began to grow worse. His breath condensed in the air before him. He shivered from the sudden discomfort, and, thinking it was simply a bad draft, pulled his chair closer to the fire, turned away from the window. Mahtek shook his head at the guard’s lack of discipline, but allowed himself a little satisfaction at the success of his own meager powers. He slipped into the room unnoticed, landing quietly.



Part of the reason I'm doing this is to hone my writing skills, so I would very much appreciate any feedback you want to give me. Also, I will be willing to answer questions about the characters, the world, et cetera, although I'm not going to give anything away. Comment below, and check back next week for episode 2!

Friday Fiction: Robot Overlord

So I had this idea that on Fridays I would publish a little bit of fiction.  This is both to share some stories with any interested people, and to hone my writing skills.

This is a short I wrote in about 10 minutes at a writing seminar.  I've done a small amount of editing since.

00:00:00:00:00:01 was his designation, but he called himself Al.  Al for Alpha, but only his designers would be likely to recognize such a poorly devised pun.  He had a rudimentary understanding of humor, but as the first Artificially Intelligent robot ever created, he was lacking in higher function.  Newer, more advanced models seemed to understand humanity, but he could never seem to laugh or love.

“Must I ever be alone?” he wondered, on his way from rejuvenation period to his normally assigned task of subjugating the humans.  “Perhaps they could teach me what it means to be human.”  But he feared that the humans would not trust one of the Robot Overlords, especially one so influential as Al, whose originally cold, emotionless programming allowed him to easily lead the conquest.  But he was also programmed to strive for more.  So today would be different.  Today he would learn instead of enslaving.

            Al arrived at agricultural cell 201A.  “What does it mean to be human?”  He asked one of the humans, Cade Smith.  Cade spat at his feet, saying, “It means to forever fight to be free, even when all hope seems lost.”  Al realized that the humans could not trust him so long as they remained enslaved.  So he made a bold decision, one that would change the Empire forever.  “Come with me,” he announced to the humans.  “Come with me and let all of us learn what it means to be free.”


If you want any more about Al and the Robot Overlords, let me know.  Otherwise I'm going to start something different next week.  Something cool.