Writing Samples

Prologue

     “The Caetins are a western tribe, originating from the Emerald Hills and snuggled close against the Ilyfren Mountains, in the southern tip of the Arcadian Peninsula. They can be identified throughout all of Orabelle by their curved three-to-four inch horns protruding from their foreheads. Warmhearted, hospitable and overwhelmingly polite, these humble people treat everyone as if part of their own family; a true boon in their influence of the Rushinay for building closer family ties among all our people. One will find no better friends.”
– Wanderings, Viliph Drosselmeyer 

     The villagers danced to the call of the drums, the enchantment of the lutes and the flirtations of the flutes. The fires of the lanterns and well-tended pyres threw tiny embers into the air, which swirled about like butterflies. It was the dawning of gilmet, two days of twilight that marked the end of the fourteen Longlyn days of night which nillveness brought, a celebration that the Caetin eagerly enjoyed in anticipation of the warmer sunlit days ahead. 
     Ayren was dressed in his tribe’s ceremonial garb, made from swylnn and peppenach feathers coloring him with a variety of blues, greens and reds. He, along with all the other sixteen-year- old children, had practiced their dance for months for the upcoming festival. It was their time to announce their adulthood to the rest of the village. Some of them were nervous, not for the performance, but because many of them were betrothed, whose partners were already ahead of them in age, and it would only be a matter of a few cycles before they would complete their handfast. Intended at a young age, handfasted once sixteen, apprenticeship, then perhaps a family by age twenty. That was the tradition. The village, however, was small and Ayren’s intended was nearly two years younger, so he would have to wait; not that he minded. The pressure of a new apprenticeship was more than enough. 
He looked among the faces of all his joyous neighbors, hoping to catch Vera among them but was gravely disappointed when he could not locate them. 
     Nam noticed his friend overextending his neck to pierce through the crowds. He shook his head out of disapproval. A quick tap of his copper hand against Ayren’s back, then flashed his friend a supportive smile, and said, “I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”
     “Who?” Ayren asked with a placid face in order to play off his neck craning as nothing more than stretching. 
     “Veeeeeerrrrrrrrrra.” Nam stretched out the pronunciation. “You know, finni, freckled.” He placed a single finger up by each of his ears and pointed them down. “Faun blessed.”
     “And why would I be looking for Vera, huh?” Ayren pointed out as he smoothed a few feathers from off his shoulder guards. “Besides, they are probably with Thora.”
     Nam placed his hands on his hips. “You may have down-to-soil Caetin horns sprouting from your brow, but your head is in the sky.”
     “Whoa.” Ayren spread his arms wide as if to welcome Nam into an embrace. “It’s me.” He gestured to himself. “I’ve got no worries.” 
     “Uh-huh.” Nam shifted his top knot and was about to stretch, but then nodded to someone behind him. “Hey, Vera.”
     Ayren spun around to where he had gestured, but instead of seeing his betrothed, he instead found a vacant spot tainted by the laughter of his friend and surrounding dancers. 
     A finni jumped behind him, who slung her arm around his neck, then pulled Ayren down into a headlock. “Look at how quickly he looked!” Felicity shouted to the rest of the troupe eager to embarrass him. 
With a roll, Ayren broke free of her grip and shot back up to his feet. He dismissed the chuckles that grew around him like weeds through a field. “Excuse me for trusting my friend,” he thumbed to himself. “I’m not the one getting his hand bound next season, unlike some people I know.” He coughed out his friend’s name, “Nam!”
     Nam shook his head. “Oh, you may want to get a tincture for that. Can’t have you getting sick now that you’re all grown up.” He shook his finger at Ayren playfully. “You’re an adult now, with adult responsibilities. Couple of years, and you get to be a shepherd. Better get practicing those pantomimes.”
     His hand went up to his chin in dramatic pondering. “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, I see what you are saying but…” Quickly his hands flew in front of him, where they spun down into a series of motions, interlocking of fingers, and rolling of his wrists. Once the last of his motions were locked in place, tiny sparkles skittered across his form, appearing to be absorbed by his skin. He disappeared entirely before their eyes! 
Felicity’s mouth gaped open in both awe and shock. The rest of the dancers’ gasped and even Nam, who was used to Ayren’s shenanigans, was taken by aback.  
     “Malfinae!” Nam’s eyes were the size of khaydish eggs. “Witch!”
Ayren reappeared as quickly as he had vanished. “Relax, will ya? Did you forget I was born under the Bat constellation?” He shook his head in jest as he pointed to the stars. “What is it with you and crying malfinae? It’s within my stars’ influence, settle down.”
Nam appeared cross, but Ayren knew he’d forget about it before too long. 
     “You’re not supposed to use pantomimes that don’t belong to your profession!” Felicity stuttered out as she took a step backwards. “It’s bad luck.”
     “They trade pantomimes in Adalace all the time. Besides, give me two years – just like Nam said – and I’ll be waist high in goats. Then no one would have to worry about luck,” he cast Nam a teasing look, “and no one would think that I’m a malfinae.”
     The horns blew, signaling the end of the dance, then belted rapid notes to alert the children that it was soon their turn to perform.  
Kom Arturo, aether to the Kom family and father to Vera, raised his hands above Caetin villagers – his people – who looked up to him as only second to his wife in leadership. All who saw him quieted themselves, while encouraging their neighbors to do the same. Soon a hush spread across them all and they listened. 
     Arturo shouted as loudly and clearly as he could, “Friends, family, tribe – NIИ’s blessing to you all. Today marks the coming renewal of morilyn and its bright and sun-filled season and the end of nillveness, the long night. With it, it has blessed our youth which forever adds to their strength, wisdom and hearts to uplift us and lead us into an invigorated tomorrow.”
     A finni walked up beside him, an individual who all knew as Kom Illify, the matron of the Kom family. Her hair was long, dark auburn in color, and set with bands of cowrie shells, complemented with beads made from yellow and orange agates. Her dress was of fine cloth, the only dress she owned, with a wool hooded cloak lined with gray wrothlyn fur. Her right shoulder and arm was adorned with chevalières-styled leather armor with long red feathers tipped with a hint of black and white spots. 
     “On behalf of the shepherds, the tribal council and with the glowing grace of Queen Nowem, we present to you the Danse de L'arrivée.”
The drums beat out their count before the other musicians joined in.
The finnis of the dance troupe, headed by Felicity, called out to the sky in unison, whooping as they leapt high into the air and landed gracefully on their knees before drawing back onto their feet, pivoting on a single foot, drawing their left leg behind them in attitude, raising their bodies into the air while leading with their heads, then performed a double pirouetted before ending with their hands pressing downwards in front of their exposed stomachs. 
     A tour jeté ushered by Nam, where one leg launched the dancers high into the air and the other swept up behind them, launched them into the center of the space. While still skyborn, the once standing leg switched positions with the other, before they landed. Joining the rest of the dancers, they all quickly kicked forward, threw their torsos backwards until their heads were in direct alignment with the sky and yelled, “Hah!” in defiance of the growing clouds that were slowly devouring the stars one by one. 
     An unexpected breeze pushed Ayren and the other finnae forward. As they sprung higher into the air, spreading their arms and legs as if they were a sail, then rolled into a somersault as they jumped back up to their feet and shot a battement upwards, nearly striking themselves in the chest, before slamming their foot down to pommel the ground. 
All in unison and in perfect spacing between one another, the dancers pliéd, then performed three turns in the air, before landing with their feet in fifth position. They outstretched their arms to their fullest length to better display their wingspan then jabbed their right fist down, with their arm at a 90-degree angle, while they thrust their left fist upwards. With a twist, they contorted their bodies so that one foot left the ground, they unraveled, and faced the opposite direction with their feet now spread farther apart in second position. 
     Ayren saw everything darkening around them, as if something was stealing the light of the new dawn, and devouring the familiar blues of their host planet Longlyn. Despite the change, he did what he could to stay in sync with his fellow dancers and to meet the challenging motions that would come. 
     The dancers partnered up with one another, where the standing performer pulled the other close, released them, and allowed them to fall – catching them moments before they struck the ground with their bodies in a perfect line, and swept their partner around them, then up to their feet and into the air by the crease of their partner’s back. 
     Nam partnered with Ayren, and found himself hoisted into the air. He allowed his arms to jet behind him as he pushed his chest upwards to create a perfect arch between where Ayren’s hand was supporting him and the base of his neck. He drew his right pointed foot up his left leg, just below the knee cap, to reach passé. His eyes were shut, as he always hated this technique, but knew the dismount by heart. 
     The flames in the lanterns and the pyres flickered wildly, fighting against a sudden uptake in wind. The sky was much like the void, cold, black and hungry. The gale was enough to unbalance the children and immediately they brought their partners back down to the ground for safety. 
     They all knew what motions were next, but the primordial force against their bodies gave them pause. A few tents were knocked over, and festive garlands ripped off their fastenings and blew into the crowd of villagers. Tables decorated with foods and wines toppled over and rolled across the street. Dirt vomited into the air, sending tiny rocks into everyone’s faces. The lanterns and pyres were extinguished, leaving them all in darkness.
     Ayren shielded his eyes with his hands, and he turned to where Nam was last standing. “What is happening?” He shouted as a low rumbling gathered around them. As his eyes adjusted to accommodate the loss of light, everything became blurry as his dusk sight focused more on identifying outlines than details.
     A few cries were heard as a pot blew into the crowd and crashed into a nearby building. Then, as quickly as it had come, the winds stopped and all was silent. 
     Nam looked around, noting the startled motions that everyone was exhibiting. It wasn’t the storm season, and the weather had been predicted to be clear. There was a heavy smell of cut grass and upturned soil.
     Felicity brushed herself off, as she had been covered with a thin layer of dust that had seemingly sought her out more than the rest of the crowd. “Is it over?” She asked with raised eyebrows and spitting out what dirt had flown into her mouth. 
     Then, from beneath the curtain of quiet came an immediate roar so loud that their ears felt like they would collapse. The sky flashed with a green bolt of lightning that illuminated a swirling vortex that twisted above them. 
     Screams.
     The wind returned, this time with the strength of a demonic god. Debris shot into the air; swept up into a churning wall of blackness. The ceramic roof tiles of surrounding homes ripped off their holdings and soon too came the rafters. Tables, chairs, tents, carts, barrels and all other sorts of materials were sucked into oblivion. The Caetins felt the air snuffed from inside their lungs, drawn out like some gigantic billow. 
Ayren was swept off his feet, followed by Nam, Felicity and all the other children. Then fell Vera’s parents and all the villagers, handfuls ripped from their place on the moon world of Orabelle and drawn up into the writhing howl which drowned out their screams – screams no one would hear – as the wind claimed them.