Come join me at WeavingaLegend.com, and enjoy a new incarnation of Kerim and Joachim’s story!

Weaving a Legend is something of a pet project to me – it represents my first significant work that came even reasonably close to completion (at least in the rough draft). Alas, a lack of organization and planning has resulted in sub-par chapter write-ups and plot inconsistencies.

It would seem that I am not yet mature enough as a writer for this project – or at least, not mature enough to begin publishing it right away. Ergo, I will be tabling it and working on a different project, Faceless. Whether I will publish Faceless online or attempt to have it published through normal channels is as yet unclear.

I apologize, dear readers, for the inconvenience. Good Day.

Kerim carefully considered the woman in front of him as she ate her stew.

In some ways, she was dangerous. Her empathic abilities meant that he had to be very careful around her – he had to not only give the appearance, but also the substance.

Right now, that wasn’t a concern – he had no qualm with her. Power or no, she was still one of his, and for that she was precious. Not as important as Joachim, or Sthana – the prophet is not a role that should play a major part in a story – but she still formed a side-plot, through her relationship with Darren (though that was far off yet).

What was a concern, however, was that she remained. She had not given Joachim his prophecy yet. That she was here, counter to the plot, meant that something had changed her plans. Now he couldn’t allow her to go her own way – she had to stay with Joachim.

He briefly considered falsifying the prophecy. It should be possible – tricky, since he hadn’t attempted any mental manipulation of so subtle a nature before, but possible. But that would have other repercussions – such as if the true prophecy came for Joachim. Then there would be the possibility of conflicting prophecies, and he did not dare insert so chaotic a variable. If that happened, there was no telling what the boy would do. No, he did not dare falsify the prophecy, except as a last resort.

Where did that leave him? False prophecy or not, his immediate goal was to ensure the close proximity of this woman, Kiara er’Rammin. For that, he could “touch” her mind, and keep her with them… but that too was risky. He wasn’t sure of the extent of her empathic abilities; in David’s story, their range had been subject to the plot. He wanted to keep any uses of his ability around her to a minimum (the mental side of them, anyway).

That left only one real option – somehow, he had to convince her to join Joachim the old-fashioned way. That meant that he had to know why she was here. She was supposed to have gone south, back to Delenn, for now. What could have…?

Ah. The Voice. If that was the case, then there was still hope – any prophecy she had would have to be for Joachim.

Kerim barely managed to suppress a smile, but when Kiara lifted her head up to look at him, he realized it hadn’t been enough. It appeared that even that sense of satisfaction he’d felt had been enough to alert her. And worse – his reaction could not go unnoted. She would have noticed something.

Better say something. “So… do you have another prophecy?” The frown on her face told him all he needed to know. She looked at him for a few moments, and then returned to her food.

He was pleased, and didn’t bother stifling the emotion. She would expect exactly this response, after all. Now, all he had to do was keep the group here till Kiara had given the prophecy, and he was home free.

Kiara dolefully spooned some stew into her mouth. Her stomach fluttered a bit, but the food seemed to confuse it into acquiescence.

She was not happy. She had planned to head south from Hedro, toward Norfolk and the Maara-Delenn border. She had already been in this country longer than she liked – the people here were too pale, and she missed familiar faces, familiar outfits, familiar skin. She was homesick.

Except, of course, the Voice never really left her much choice in these things. It wasn’t like she could ignore it – that only made things worse. So here she was, in a rural town almost at the northeastern tip of the country. As far as she could get from Delenn while still in Maara.

And as if it was out to irritate her, the Voice had calmed down the moment she’d arrived here. She supposed it could be worse, but it was frustrating to sit here, not knowing how long she’d have to wait before the butterflies in her stomach turned into eagles and she had to find her target.

She sighed heavily into her stew.

“Something wrong?”

Kiara looked up. Standing over her was a dark-skinned man with shoulder-length black hair. What caught her attention about him were the bright pink-red tattoos on his face – a circle around each eye, three overlapping spikes curving down into each cheek, and a blotch of red on the forehead and nose – and his eyes. She had never seen eyes like those before – completely white, with no pupil or iris.

Blind, she thought. The man seemed vaguely familiar… but she would remember those tattoos and those eyes anywhere, so it was probably just her mind playing tricks on her.

As interesting as the man’s tattoos were his emotions. His face bore a carefully crafted smile, but his emotions were not what she would have expected. No lust, no active deceit. Part worry, part surprise, and part relief. That last was odd – especially since she could sense it was directed at her. Why would he be relieved to see her?

She shook her head, not wanting to answer him. The Voice wasn’t interested in him, and she wasn’t likely to be in a good mood until it had been taken care of.

“Mind if I join you?” Before she had a chance to reply, he pulled out a chair and sat down. “I apologize, but I needed to get away from my companions for a while.”

“Go ahead,” Kiara replied, and turned back to her stew. There were some empty tables in the inn, but she didn’t mention it. It seemed somehow impolite to tell a blind man to go away – or was she just being over-sensitive? She sometimes had trouble with the line between ‘consideration’ and ‘condescension’.

She snapped her head up. What… His emotions had changed abruptly when she’d replied. Now he was amused and pleased – and even a bit calculating. Something about this man bothered her.

He reacted to her sudden movement with a brief flicker of alarm… then smiled. It was a small smile, different from the one he’d given her just moments earlier. This one wasn’t crafted – and was more mocking than friendly. He leaned forward, and instinctively Kiara leaned back a bit.

“Have another prophecy in the works?”

Kiara stiffened.

“How do you know about that?!” She whispered fiercely.

“Don’t you recognize me?” His smile turned into a grin. He’s enjoying this!

She studied his face. No, she hadn’t seen those tattoos before… but what if they were new?

Then she realized – the man in Hedro! The one she’d given the prophecy to! She was shocked she hadn’t recognized him immediately – after all, he was one of the few southerners she’d seen in last few days.

He held his hand out to her. “My name is Kerim White.”

Kiara stared at the hand dumbly. This wasn’t the first time one of the Voice’s “targets” had found her… but she sensed no fear from him, nor apprehension, or anything like that. A touch of worry, yes, but no more than that.

After several moments, she slowly took his hand and shook it. This pleased him greatly, for some reason. He sat back in his chair and stared at her thoughtfully, and Kiara sensed that he was thinking intensely. She matched his gaze for a few seconds, then returned to her stew. Whatever his reasons, he bore her no ill will.

I’ll leave it at that… at least for now.

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Cazeel was… odd. Kerim couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so many old people in one place. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have called this place a retirement home.

Wait. Do I know any better? David hadn’t put much interest in Cazeel – it appeared on a world map, but Joachim was never supposed to have come here. In David’s script, the party of three (Joachim, Sthana, and Mark) had traveled directly from Koah to Hendell. It was a long trip, but stopping in Cazeel would add an unnecessary day to the trip. Of course, the flight from the Gra’Jak put a different flavor on things.

He grimaced – Looks like She’s finally begun to act. He had been lucky to recognize the howl of the Gra’Jak – it had been just as he’d imagined it to be. Now they were in a place they were never supposed to have been in, and their journey had been lengthened. What consequences would this have?

He followed the others, not involving himself in the search for an inn. Lost in his thoughts, he soon found himself in front of a table. Sthana was sitting next to her bodyguard, Mark (though he had been introduced as just a ‘companion’), and Joachim sat across from them. Kerim sat down next to him, and silently ‘watched’ as they ordered food. He deferred to their judgment when it came to ordering food – certainly, the taste didn’t matter to him.

Soon, a bowl of what appeared to be stew was set in front of him, as well as a flagon of some cool liquid. He spooned some of the stew into his mouth, wondering if it was bland. After all, if this place was like a retirement home, one would expect the food to be on the mild side. Well, there’s no way for me to tell. The spoonful he swallowed was completely tasteless, much like he suspected plastic probably tasted. He had expected that, but it was still disappointing. It certainly smelled fine; as a matter of fact, it smelled quite good. It was a real pity that he had lost his sense of taste.

He had first noticed it back in Koah, at the house of healing. Everything he’d eaten had been completely flavorless, nothing but texture. He had thought that that was just because it was hospital fare (more or less), but he soon decided otherwise. What gave it away was when he realized that he couldn’t taste his own saliva. Even now, he could remember the distinctive taste of saliva, that subtle sensation that tended to remain unnoticed from constant exposure. But when he had thought about it, he’d realized that even that was gone.

He had his theories of what had caused this. At least, he had a theory. He didn’t know how accurate it was, but it bore consideration. What if his soul-

He froze, spoon halfway between bowl and mouth. Just at the limits of his Sight, he’d seen something. Someone. And for her to be here – it seemed impossible. But… what if it wasn’t? Already this world had strayed so far from the script. Was it not possible for her to be here, in this place, at this time? It did not seem so very farfetched, when he put it that way.

He got up. The others looked at him, but he excused himself and began to walk. His Sight was very stable, now. He suspected that the initial chaos was at least partly due to the magic not having ‘settled’ yet. Or maybe he’d just gotten the hang of it. But still, he wasn’t sure where he’d seen her. If he was lucky, she was still in the inn, and he would find her soon enough… There!

He could scarcely believe his senses. But though Magesight was different from regular sight, he’d somehow gained an instant sense of her. And he knew her.

There, at a small table by one of the walls of the inn, sat Kiara. The Voice of Prophecy.

“By a Gra’Jak,” Kerim finished.

Sthana hissed in surprise – and Joachim very nearly whimpered. Sthana’s friend looked about to object, probably in disbelief, when a harsh squawk resounded through the still forest air. It was guttural and drawn-out, like a perverse blend of a wolf’s howl and a wounded duck’s squawk. Joachim had never heard anything like it before, but he could not imagine any normal creature creating that sound.

Gra’Jak – the dreaded bear demons. They were said to follow magic like hounds tracking a scent, and would chase you to the ends of the earth. Ten feet tall, with the head of a bird, body of a bear, and ten eyes. It was also said that its cry is like no other, alerting its prey of the inevitable doom.

“Joachim!” He snapped out of the half-trance his thoughts had pulled him into. For some reason, the entire group was heading off the road, into the forest. He made an uncomprehending sound, then rode over to them.

“What-” Sthana interrupted his half-formed question.

“Gra’Jak move slowly in woody areas. We’ll be able to outpace it as long as we avoid clear spaces.” Joachim didn’t really understand – why would a demon bear move slowly in the woods? – but he acceded, seeing as how everyone else seemed to be thinking along those lines.

They moved through the woods at a fast walk. At one point, Joachim had been about to ask why they were fleeing at such a calm pace – but just as he was about to open his mouth, he saw Kerim discretely shake his head. He’d shut up, then. Maybe the Gra’Jak had good hearing or something.

The howling squawks did not cease. They continued, each one a couple of minutes after the previous one. Around them, the only sound was the muffled thuds of the horses hooves striking the earth. No animals made any sound around them – Joachim had thought the forest was quiet before, but now it was practically silent. It was eerie.

He tried to keep himself from dwelling on the silence, or the intermittent calls of their demonic pursuer. He suspected that that was part of the creatures tactic – to keep its prey in a state of constant panic. Maybe it expected them to do something stupid. It wasn’t working. It was not working.

Please don’t let it be working.

He found himself thinking of the demon bear itself. Granted, he didn’t know all that much about the things, but it seemed a bit odd. If they were so slow in woody areas (and the fact that it hadn’t caught up yet seemed to indicate as much), why was this one in a forest? After all, you couldn’t get any woodier than, well, the woods. It didn’t make sense.

Also, how was he going to fight it? He was unclear on what they could do when it caught up to them. That it would, he had no doubt of. It was a demon (or so he presumed, seeing as it was called a demon bear), while they were just humans (and horses). They’d probably get tired long before it stopped chasing after them. And even if they did manage to escape it somehow, where were they going?

Joachim jerked upright in his saddle. Oh crap. Are we lost? Had this escape resulted in them being somewhere in an unknown wilderness, doomed to wander around fruitlessly till their death?

A hand fell on his shoulder, jolting him out of his reverie. He looked over – Sthana had moved her horse right next to him, and had reached over to pat him. There was a comforting expression on her face – the kind one would give to a kid while saying “Don’t worry, everything’s all right.”

It was a rather annoying expression.

He swallowed his irritation and managed to give her a weak smile. He didn’t blame her for her actions – she was probably just nervous, and was using him to calm her own nerves.

They kept on this manner for what felt like days, though it couldn’t have been more than a few hours. By the time Sthana’s friend first sighted the town, they were all haggard and exhausted, Joachim more so than any of the others. It ticked him off a bit that he was the weakest of the lot, but the emotion was forgotten in the collective surge of relief they felt when they saw the walls of the village. They were safe now. Surely the demon can’t get in through those walls, Joachim thought.

They had arrived at the village of Cazeel.

The forest around them was quiet, except for the sedate clip-clop of the horse’s hooves. None of them had spoken in several minutes. It wasn’t that they were intentionally remaining quiet, or that they didn’t want to talk to each other. It was just one of those silences that naturally descends on a traveling group from time to time.

Joachim didn’t like it. Companionable silence was all well and good when he had something he wanted to think about, but right now he didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts. Because, frankly, his thoughts came perilously close to making him blush.

It wasn’t his fault. Not really. He couldn’t be blamed for being attracted to a stunningly beautiful woman who was suddenly accompanying him on his journey! No. It wasn’t his fault.

But that didn’t do anything for the blushes. Or for the thoughts that accompanied them. For Sthana wasn’t just beautiful; she was also smart. And a mage. A professional mage! She wasn’t much older than he was, at least he didn’t think so – he hadn’t asked her age yet. He wasn’t going to, either. That was one of the life lessons his father had taught him – never ask a girl her age. He’d then rolled up his sleeve and showed the young Joachim a long scar on his left arm, explaining how a failure to follow that lesson had given it to him. No, Joachim wasn’t going to ask Sthana her age. But still, she didn’t look that much older!

Maybe he could ask Kerim. Kerim was smart, and would probably be able to find out without making her mad. Or implicating Joachim. He began to turn to the courier, who was riding just behind him, then stopped.

Sthana didn’t seem to like Kerim. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d seen her avoid him, and tended to ignore him whenever possible. For his part, Kerim kept away from the girl, with an odd expression on his face.

Joachim had always thought Kerim was a hard man to read, but recently he become even more so. It was the tattoos, Joachim decided. Although he didn’t understand how (and Kerim refused to tell him), the tattoos let Kerim use Magesight to see. But they also obscured the man’s face, and Kerim had never tended to open displays of emotion. Plus those white pupil-less eyes – it wasn’t easy to look at them. Together with the bright pink-red tattoos, Joachim now found it very difficult to tell what his old friend was thinking.

They rode into a sunny patch on the road, and Joachim squinted his eyes. The path to Cazeel faced east here, and today was a sunny day. Thankfully, his horse – he hadn’t caught its name – seemed to be untroubled by the glare, and kept up its steady pace. He turned toward Sthana, at least partly to get his face out of the sun.

The four of them had left Koah that morning. Apparently, Sthana and Mark were also going to the capital, and had offered to accompany them. Joachim had jumped on the chance to spend a bit longer with the beautiful mage. Kerim had said nothing – actually, Joachim couldn’t remember Kerim stringing two words together in their presence. Now that he thought about it, it puzzled him. Why did Kerim dislike them so much?

No matter. The sunlight dissipated as they once again fell under the protective cover of tree branches. He faced forward again. What was I thinking about? He couldn’t remember. That happened too often, especially when he was left alone. It annoyed him.

It’s too quiet here. Joachim was bored. Any conversation at all would be preferable to this. He opened his mouth to speak.

Then he stopped. He cocked his head – What was that sound? The forest they were passing through was silent, seemingly devoid of life. The only sounds seemed to be coming from the hooves of their horses… But there’s something else. There! Again! It sounds like a… squawk?

“We should speed up a bit.” Joachim nearly fell off his horse at Kerim’s voice. He turned around and looked at the older man. Sthana and her friend – Joachim didn’t recall his name – did the same.

“Why?” That was Sthana’s friend. He was frowning – Joachim hadn’t seen him smile since they’d met, not even once. He had a suspicion that the man didn’t know how to smile.

“We are being hunted,” Kerim stated, in a voice which he might have used for describing what his breakfast that morning had been.

He heard the creak of the door opening, but he did not look; he still hadn’t learnt how to control his Sight. That it could be controlled, he was sure of – the incident with Sthana was proof positive of that.

Hmm… emotion, perhaps? It probably boils down to focusing on one thing. After all, that’s how I was able to get anything done with it earlier.

Experimentally, he twisted on his Sight, focusing solely on a mental image of the door. He felt the door, in its entirety… but he also felt the worn-smooth tiles of the floor, a rough spot on the left wall some unknown distance away, a warm and rough texture that he suspected was skin,-

Frantically, he twisted it off. Clearly, holding the image in his head wasn’t good enough. Maybe he needed to concentrate on the real-world object.

Just then, he heard the sound of footsteps, and immediately twisted on the Sight, hoping that… Yes! The vision was marginally stable now as he ‘stared’ at Sthana. He still sensed brief flickers, but now he knew what he had to work toward.

Sthana walked past him, almost passing him before remembering to nod and acknowledge him. Why does she hate me? The idea that one of his children (and that is how he thought of them – the children of his mind) bore him such dislike troubled him greatly. But he set the matter aside for the time being, even as his Sight followed after her. With a sigh, he twisted it off – he could manage this next task without it. One hand against the wall, he made his way in what he hoped was the direction of Joachim’s room.

He now bears the Eyes of Night. It is time for the child to grow into a man.

He approached the doorway, and passed through it. A sharp intake of breath reached his ears, and he guessed that Joachim had seen him. Suddenly an idea came to him, and he decided to try it – he activated his Sight. For a fraction of a moment the chaos surrounded him; then it snapped into place around the bed, and the man lying in it. His fine, uncut hair framed the round, faintly childish face. Despite his age, Joachim was still a child; he had not yet experienced that shift of perspective that is associated with growing up. That face now bore a pained expression. Kerim wondered if the boy was in pain… then it occurred to him – that expression might be in sympathy of the pain Joachim thought Kerim must be feeling.

Only then did Kerim realize how he must look. He knew already that his eyes were burnt out; there would be no pupil there, just a blind whiteness. And his face was probably marked – he had bound the Magesight state into a tattoo spell. Technically, the way it had turned out should have been impossible… But then, his very existence in this place should have been impossible. Impossibility was something Kerim had long since learnt to set aside when it came to himself… or Her.

That said, there was probably a large tattoo on his face. And he wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t something innocuous, like a leafy vine or a bird. It was probably something a lot more disturbing and abstract – and given that he’d changed his own body to create it, it was probably bright red.

Right then. At least he could guess why Sthana had been so uncomfortable around him.

“Don’t make that face. It’s not as bad as it probably looks.”

The pained expression vanished, only to be replaced by an open-mouthed gape. Kerim had little difficulty reading that expression.

“The Magesight, remember?”

Joachim seemed to calm down a bit at that ‘explanation’, and even gained a bit of cheer.

“That worked?!?!” His voice was an exuberant, and somehow both shocked and pleased, yell.

“Yes.”

“That’s awesome!” Kerim simply smiled – it seemed that the youth had suffered no lasting damage from the transfer.

He’d already known that Joachim would be otherwise unharmed – he was not supposed to receive any significant injuries at this point, after all. The only thing wrong with the boy (hopefully) was exhaustion.

Kerim suddenly realized that Joachim had been talking, jumping from azed to the cyclops to Sthana. He raised his hand, calling for silence. Instantly, the youth quieted down. He now watched his mentor alertly, probably wondering why he’d been told to stop.

“You have received a great gift, Joachim. You are now the bearer of the Eyes of Night.” He smiled at his charge. “In my eyes, you are now an adult.” Joachim looked a bit confused at that – he had been considered an adult for two years now. That was all right; he didn’t need to know what Kerim was talking about, so far. But the next item was important.

“I have one request of you.” He waited a moment, but Joachim did not interrupt. “Please do not talk about how you came by your eyes – or who was involved.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Please.” Kerim did not elaborate, because there was no reason to do so. He knew Joachim, and knew what the youth would choose.

“Okay, I guess.”

Kerim smiled slightly.