The TaleMaster 8….News

( – promoted by undercovercalico)

This little tale started itself about a dozen years ago. It was originally a couple of pages, a  background for a D&D character. Then came a dream or three which added so much more. Life & Death interfered for many years. I’ve begun dreaming of this tale again, recently. This will eventually be a book, I hope.

the rest of the TaleMaster

So please, go get yourself a tall cold beverage, adjust your reading glasses and settle into your comfy chair and join me in the City of Colours…

“Almost home ” he thinks, gazing northward from the bowmost point of the barge. He sits just above the clear blue water watching the mountain grow before his eyes. Focusing closer in, he watches the team of oxen on the last stretch of the journey patiently pulling the vessel. He turns and scans the deck.  

Jammed with men and dwarves, soon to burst into a flurry of activity as the vessel arrives, it’s deck is unloaded of its crates and barrels, the hold emptied of its ice and fish. Now the deck is at its most peaceful time. Men loll in the few empty spaces on deck, rolling dice or bones, playing games of chance or wit~ the pastime of bored men everywhere. A few just rest, eyes closed; all are enjoying the break after four full days of work. The fish, a rarity inland, were sure to bring a good price, a bonus for the men.

   Casting his eyes to the far distance, in his minds eye seeing the ancient seaport, Kalygth-Rathmon. On the surface a calm, placid city, with oh so many undercurrents lying just beneath. He becomes impatient with the pace of the oxen in his need to impart the news. He turns his gaze and his thoughts northward to the City of Colours.

   Early this morning he’d spotted it, just a dark smudge on the horizon. Now with landfall nearly at hand, the mountain rises majestically to its full height, overwhelming him with its immensity….and unparalleled beauty. He knows it as a special place, unique in its existence, the solitary mountain.

   Nearing the docks, the features of the city come to life. On the side of the mountain, the gates peer through lush vines,  with gem tone highlights on the western side. The vines bear blossoms of every colour in the rainbow at Solls-end each day, filling the air with the scent of jasmine and roses, mixing with the pungent sages of the desert, creating the unique ‘scent of colours’, home.

   Unable to wait any longer, he scampers off the barge just before it reaches the docks, calling back “I’ll send down the carts to bring up the wares.” He trots from the docks along the path at the base of the wall that the City of Colours is enclosed by, settling into his stride. He has the build of a long distance runner, stringy of limb, lean, but tough. He is well used to this, his usual mode of travel. His dark hair is tied back from his face with a piece torn from the tail of his shirt. His clothes are dark grey, well worn, seeming almost a second skin, soon to be out grown and shed.

He rounds the wall and when just within hearing range, calls out to the guard “Send down the carts! Four or five should do. Freah will have ALL our heads if her fish go bad.”    The message is relayed inside the wall from one to another. Just before he reaches the gate the boy hears the rumble of the carts leaving their shed. “Record time.” he thinks, “Freah will be pleased.”

   He runs on, through the gates, nodding to the guards as he passes, then a burst of speed takes him quickly past the monstrous stables and adjoining fenced pastures. He looks up, and up, to the Bazaar. Resting on the sheared off peak, the tents of the Bazaar, in their varied colours patterns and sizes, crown the site of the largest year – round market. Banners fly from every tent peak and from beside each gate on the mountainside, proclaiming the family and profession of those within, adding to the perpetual festive air.

   He runs on, around the lake and its waterfall, past the caverns of the fisherfolk along the base of the steep mountain, around the northern edge and up the ramp, a cut – back rising six tiers to the Bazaar.

   About halfway down the first tier, he ducks into a recess and then into a door. “We’re back,” he says hugging the gaunt woman standing by the table while taking the pack from his shoulder. Opening it, he takes out a package wrapped in oiled paper and gives it to her. “For supper.” he states, quickly turning then trotting out of the chamber towards the tunnel at the back. Into the tunnel he goes intent in his purpose to get his news to the Seth as quickly as possible.

continued…

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