Eloquent Tales & Blues

Colonization: Undulating Confinement

Keldon grabbed Tarian's shoulder and spun him around, slamming him against the wall. His brow furrowed as he took a deep breath. Keldon jabbed his finger into Tarian's chest. "Tarian, you can't keep bothering the scientists."

"Caleb secured their live sample of that shifting monstrosity," Tarian said, brushing Keldon's hands off before he straightened his jacket. "Didn't you hear Caleb's report? That thing wore his face, making it even more dangerous."

"I know," Keldon said, stepping back and lifting his palms. "But you're not helping them."

"If that monster had approached either your team or Engrim's, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Tarian rubbed his temples as his chest swelled. He grabbed Keldon's shirt and pulled him close. "So, if my constant visits help expedite their work, they're worth the headache."

"But they don't!" Keldon pushed himself away from his friend, his eyes narrowing. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. Your visits cause nothing but chaos, and it takes far too long to reclaim their original calm."

Tarian's face tightened as he stared into the sky. He reached for the doorknob, giving it a sharp twist before shoving the door open. "They'll survive the intrusion. It took ten darts to put that thing in its cage...

Tumultuous Beginning

The elderly man turned his head as the pounding intensified. His fingers twitched over the flipping pages of his floating tome, a venomous snarl curling his lips. With each crash, another page tore free from the book and joined the howling, arcane storm around the frantic mage. As the sheets spun past his twitching brow, light devoured the scribbled ink. When the glow enveloped each sheet, they popped out of existence.

“Thobin,” a husky voice called, punctuated by a mighty and ominous thud. “Open the door!”

The man’s steely gaze whipped toward the voice. Still, his fingers danced over the whirling pages. The pounding gave way to cracking wood, a splintering rhythm that echoed through the tower. Then a sharp female voice cut through the din. “This isn’t going to end well for you!”

“By a unanimous decree of the ruling council,” the gruff voice said as the pounding increased, “you are required to surrender yourself and all of your tomes to our authority.”

A swirling wind whipped about Thobin, throwing his long, wild, silver-streaked hair about his head. As more pages tore from the tome, he rolled his shoulders, sending a series of cracks bouncing off the walls. “I respect neither that institution nor you. Enter at your own peril.”

“Thobin, you can’t win this fight. However, if you submit yourself to our authority, you’ll be rewarded with a place on the council.”

“Bah!” Thobin’s fingers whirled faster as more pages tore free from the tome. When the last page freed itself, Thobin turned to face the cracking door, hands clasped behind his back...

Colonization: Hunting Shadows

Reaching out, Caleb brushed the damaged branch with his fingers. He kneeled and scrutinized the ground, finding more disturbed undergrowth. He pulled out his radio and switched channels. "Engrim, where are you?"

"About a click or two east of you. Have you found any signs of shapeshifters?"

Caleb moved a branch out of the way and studied the markings. "I may have, and I'd like a second opinion."

"Isn't Keldon leading a unit out here?" Engrim asked.

Caleb clicked his tongue, rising to examine the damaged branch. He turned to his squad, raising a finger to his lips. "He headed south the moment we departed the settlement. If we wait to get his thoughts, whatever left these marks will be long gone and out of reach."

"Fine, we're on our way."

Caleb tore his gaze from the tracks and scanned the foliage. "Something passed through here, and it's proving difficult to determine whether the trail was accidental or deliberate. Everyone, fall in on me. Keep your heads on a swivel and be alert. I don't want to frighten off whatever is watching us."

Mika tapped Caleb's shoulder as she cleared her throat. "Are we spreading out?"

"Yes, though stay in sight." Caleb leveled his rifle above the agitated foliage. "It shouldn't take Engrim's team long to get here."

Mika spun away from Caleb and stared into the forest's dense shadows. "And what information can you glean from the tracks?"

Caleb followed the markings...

Wandering Stranger

A wanderer adjusted his position against the tree. When a snowflake landed on his outstretched hand, he shook it free, climbing to his feet. The man dragged his hair from his face as he pulled his spare cloak from his pack. Without missing a beat, he wrapped it around his shoulders. He clutched his bag under the covering as he strode toward the road. As he neared it, he checked both sides of the path before easing out from the underbrush.

As the snow clung to him, the man tugged the outer garment tighter about his neck and forced himself through the growing mounds. After walking for what felt like an eternity, the wanderer noticed a structure hugging the horizon, and his steps quickened. When he reached the building, his trembling hand brushed its rough stone.

A grin spread as his fingers traced the chiseled rock. He cocked his head, and his smile widened when he scanned the surrounding buildings. He ignored the blacksmith and the numerous merchant establishments. When his eyes landed upon the inn, he dashed toward its entrance and yanked in vain. With a grimace, the wanderer slammed his fist against the sturdy wood. “Is anyone there!”

The entrance groaned, revealing an intense gaze through the opening. “There aren’t any rooms available. You must look elsewhere.”

“Please,” the wanderer cried as he wedged his foot into the opening. “No one could survive this snowstorm.”

“I cannot allow you to enter,” the innkeeper replied.

The man pulled a stone from his pack, flashing the brilliant green gem to the owner. “I can pay.”

The innkeeper shook his head as he shoved the door. “Money isn’t the problem. This storm comes every year, and my storeroom isn’t endless. I can’t provide for you without harming my existing patrons, considering that jewel won’t fill a single belly...

Colonization: Investigation

Tarian threw the doors open and marched into the makeshift lab. The cracked table bore the white-fleshed creature. He pointed at the milky corpse as he pulled the scientist closer. “What can you tell me about this thing on your slab?”

Francis stepped away from his work and glanced around the room at his colleagues. When he saw everyone else glance elsewhere, he cleared his throat. “We’ve found nothing definitive.”

Tarian’s fist clenched as he looked at each of the scientists. When his gaze fell back on Francis, he licked his lips. “You’ve had this body for a week. Keldon told you I needed answers.”

“He did,” Francis hedged.

“Then why have you been dragging your heels?” Tarian inquired as he took a step towards Francis. While Tarian loomed over the scientist, he prodded the corpse’s abdomen and his finger slid into the creature. With a shudder, he pulled it out. “Rotting or not, I need answers.”

“If our most sensitive equipment still worked, we’d have given you the intelligence already.” Francis wrung his hands, avoiding Tarian’s glare.

Tarian wiped the frustration off his face as he backed up, licking his lips. “We don’t have that luxury.”

Francis’s gaze drifted toward Tarian, the corner of his eye twitching as he tugged his collar. “Well, we triggered its flesh into changing.”

“How?”

“What we might’ve seen was nothing more than a twitch...

Fluttering Shadows

“My army surrendered!?” Namen slammed his fist against his throne, the wood shuddering beneath the blow, and snarled. “What did my cowardly force do after they laid down their weapons to these rebels?”

The messenger’s hands trembled behind his back as his stoic face locked onto the King’s ornate chair. He bowed, spreading his arms like a bird in flight. “I wasn’t there to witness the results, sire. I carried only the message I was dispatched with. Do you want me to discover the fallout of the surrender?”

“No, there’s nothing you can accomplish,” the King grumbled as he crumpled the missive in his fist. He flung the wadded paper at the messenger’s face. “Kameron will locate these traitors!”

The messenger ducked the parchment projectile, while an advisor sitting close to the King interlaced her fingers and cleared her throat. “Your Majesty, I believe it would be best to collect any information that Baxter has before deciding on how to deal with these deserters. Consider the cost of dispatching another battalion to a captured keep.”

The King’s eyes narrowed as his lips trembled. He lifted his fingers from the ornately inlaid armrest of his throne, glancing toward the ceiling, as if the spymaster could overhear him. “Baxter is troublesome enough during peaceful times. But when it comes to war, his riddles are unbearable.”

“Baxter is unique.” The advisor smiled and leaned toward the King. “But he’s the best spymaster we’ve ever had.”

“I’m aware, Kerri!” Namen struck his chair with both meaty fists. “But I won’t deal with him if he’s communicating with his spies. Go discover everything he’s learned about these rebels and traitors.”

Kerri rose, inclining her head, and flowed across the floor. She grabbed the messenger’s arm and guided him from the meeting hall. When the door closed, she spun the fool around and slapped his face. “Why did you deliver that message straight to Namen?”

“It’s my job. Last I checked, you’re just an advisor, with no authority.” The messenger’s gaze sharpened to a knife’s edge as his fingers explored his reddening cheek. After a moment, he shoved his hands behind his back. “How would Namen react if he learned you struck one of his messengers? I believe he’s ordered protection for those carrying his commands.”

“True,” Kerri flicked the messenger’s nose as her lips parted, displaying her canines. She thumped his chest with two fingers. “Unfortunately for you, Namen never gave you the protection of a command. Never forget who your friends are, messenger.”

Kerri spun on her heels and stormed down the hall. When she reached the nearest stairwell, she sighed and flew up the stairs.

Upon reaching the door to the roof, she flung it open and stared at the man standing on the ledge, obscured by flapping butterflies, wings etched with heavy secrets, their markings whispering burdens. One landed atop an outstretched fingertip. He pulled it to his ear. She cleared her throat and marched toward him. “Baxter, I need your counsel...

Colonization: Shifting Form

Tarian sat in solitary silence, taking in the emptiness of the meeting hall. The crack ran the entire length of the conference table, and the sneering crevasse mocked him. He gripped the hilt of his dagger with white knuckles. Tarian lifted the tip of the blade and rammed it into the pockmarked slab. He twisted the knife, enlarging the hole as he took a deep breath. As the seconds ticked away, he stabbed its point into the table several times.

Between strikes, the door swung inward. Keldon stepped inside, eyeing his friend’s assault on the ruined furniture before letting out a sigh. Tarian drove the blade into the wood again, and Keldon claimed an empty seat. He waited for his friend to stop, but the knife didn’t cease. He cleared his throat as he leaned toward his friend. “If everything were normal, I wouldn’t butt into your affairs.”

“Why are you starting the habit?” Tarian asked as he drove the dagger into the table.

Keldon lifted two fingers. “Two reasons. First, sitting here and wallowing over what’s happened for weeks isn’t healthy...

Plummeting Skirmish

Tired and exhausted, Glen pressed the down button. He groaned when there was no immediate ding. After a lengthy shift, he wanted nothing more than to return home and collapse into bed. Glen stumbled to the folding chair propped against the wall across from the elevator. He pulled it out and sat down while he waited for the old and creaking elevator’s arrival. The elevator bell dinged after what felt like an interminable wait. He rose and repositioned the chair against the wall.

When the doors slid apart, Glen noticed a man and a woman inside. He waited for a moment, but neither moved to escape the confines, so he sauntered inside. Glen glanced at the floor buttons, realizing that only the ground floor one glowed. He smiled as he took a position near the rear of the car, to wait for the doors to close and the car to resume its trip towards the lobby.

Two floors later, the elevator stopped. When the doors slid apart, Glen glanced up, seeing a man glide into the car. He flashed the newcomer a polite smile. The stranger returned the gesture before spinning about to obscure his face. Glen shrugged, slouched to the wall, and waited for the elevator to resume its march. As the car descended, the new figure pulled something out of his jacket and flicked his wrist. The little tube in his hand extended, and his arm flicked like a whip, smashing the video camera.

After disarming the security’s eyes, he spun towards the other man, his lips curled into a snarl. “Kent, I want the key!”

“You can’t have it, Jon.” The last figure in the elevator backed into its far corner, wrapping his arms around his suitcase as if it were a diamond. “Please don’t do this.”

However, Jon ignored Kent’s plea and struck his arm with the baton. When the rod hit Kent’s shoulder, both he and the woman screamed. Jon turned towards a stunned Glen and the woman, his eyes burning with rage. “If either of you wants to walk away from this, mind your own business...