Hello people!

I've finally gotten access to my blogger, still don't have access to my hard drive. Eventually I'll get to time to fix my computer, maybe. Until then, I'm working without notes, so spelling may change in the future. The joy of working with an alien language! Anywho~ the continuation of  On The Lee Mountain,

D'heri

Bambariush carried the creature a third of the way down the mountain from the pasture. There an animal trail diverged from the main trail. The woman pulled the creature behind her on a litter fashioned from branches and strips of her robe. While she trod through shrubs, branches scratched at her bare legs and thighs. As she continued walking the morning transitioned into early afternoon.

A hovel, dug onto the mountain's side, came into view as she trekked. Sitting on a chair, leaning against the doorway, was an old man. His skin hung limply from his frame, and flies buzzed around his head.

"D'heri" Bambariush called out to the man. "Gather your tools and medicine. I have a wounded fairy with me."

            The elder's eyes flew open. "What did I just hear you say, child?" He asked with hushed tones in Urdu.

The woman pulled the wounded creature closer to the building. "I said, I have a wounded fairy. I know you have not healed since you have been banished, but your help is needed!" She stopped three paces from the elder and lowered the litter. She then stepped aside and motioned at the creature lashed in place. "Please D'heri."

"Bambariush, this" the old man gestured at the scaled creature "is no fairy. This,” he grabbed her by the arms “is a Pari.". He let go, then scurried over to the other end of the litter. "Quickly, I must see to him at once!"

The two carried the wounded creature into the home of the exiled healer. Once in, they brought it to the bedroom, and laid it on a low mat. The old man walked over to a trunk at the side of the room. He opened it, pulled two packages from it, and returned to the creature’s side.

"Bambariush, you need to know what I am dealing with here. In the other room I have many books, and scrolls from our ancestor's time. Treat them with great care, for they are all that is left of our past."

"So you did steal from the old temple!" Bambariush exclaimed as she untied the Pari.

"How fares the temple today?" He asked curtly.

"Empty and bare." She answered quietly.

"Go and learn, I have work to tend to." D’heri rolled the sleeves of his threadbare robe up while the woman retreated to the outer room. The exiled elder rolled the creature onto his left side. The Pari's wounded arm lay exposed on his right side. D’heri gingerly probed the limb, and the creature groaned. The old man reached into one of his bags and pulled a simple splint out.

"I'm sorry," he said as he began to set the bone. "I cannot do better for you. If you had landed nearer a large city, a modern hospital would be available for you. However, you would have undoubtedly been captured by a government of some sort."

The pari opened its eyes, and moved its lipless mouth slowly.

"Frua, pack". While the Pari spoke, it turned its head and gazed at the object upon its back.

D’heri gently tugged at the parcel attached to the Pari's back. After two tugs it became detached. The old man held the object in his hands, turning it around, looking for an opening.

The Pari gestured feebly with its unwounded hand.

D’heri placed the pack on the floor. He then rolled the creature onto its back, being cautious of the broken limb. He then moved pack to a place beside the Pari, where it could easily reach.

The creature touched the pack with its good arm. The area where the fingers contacted moved upwards. The Pari reached into the pack and retrieved a small tube shaped vessel filled with a blue substance. One end of the tube went onto the Pari's mouth, then it twisted the tube with its hand. Afterwards, the blue substance began to ooze out of the tube. A small drop blobbed into the Pari's mouth. It's pupils dilated rapidly. The tube fell from the creature’s mouth and it began to speak in a soft sing song lit.

D’heri picked up the tube, twisted it as the Pari had, and placed it back in the pack.

"I truly hope that you know what you are doing."

In the outer room, Bambariush poured over the ancient scrolls and books that D’heri had liberated from the temple.

The tattered pages lay scattered on the floor around the woman. The hallowed pages held the legends that the Kalasha people had already forgotten. The stories where about fairies from distant lands, demons from a great abyss, and gods walking amongst the people. Bambariush's forehead wrinkled as she read the nearly forgotten language.

With a speed uncommon in others his age, D’heri crossed into the outer room. He tossed a threadbare pair of pants to the woman. "You may need these soon."

He then sat cross legged on the floor in front of the woman. "I fear for you, child." He whispered.

"I am a child no longer, D’heri. I can care for myself." She replied curtly.

"Yes, you could care for yourself as a woman in our village. But," he gestured towards the bedroom, "your path has taken a different track. I hear the sigh of a drawn blade in your shadow." The old man placed a hand on the page the woman had been reading.

She looked up at him with shadowed eyes. "I killed a demon," she picked up a scroll from the floor and read "a jhunitern?" She looked up into the elders eyes.

His left eyebrow arched "Are you sure?"

Bambariush nodded. "The scroll has a description of it, and called it a demon." She retrieved the small silver box from a pocket on her hip. "It was crawling towards this as it died." She gave the object to the old man, then stood up. As she put the pair of pants on, the elder examined the object.

On one side was a small triangular indent. On the opposite side was a square indent. The other four sides were each adorned with a single circular knob.

"Hopefully our guest will know if this is of any importance." The old man sighed and laid the item on the ground.

"How is, uh, our guest?" The woman paused as she sat down again. "Do you think he will recover?"

"So you think our guest is a man?" D'heri chuckled.

Bambariush frowned. "I cannot continue to call it, IT. That is disrespectful."

"And to be female is less respectful than being a male." The old man asked.

Bambarirush stared at the floor. After a few moments of silence, a soft bleating came from outside.

"Ah, it appears as if dinner has found its way here. I will prepare the goat, if you would slaughter it." D’heri stood up and walked to the far side of room.

Bambariush got up and walked outside. Along the side of the trail, eating grass, was one of the goats from the pasture.

"I guess you are destined to be dinner for an honored guest." She unsheathed one of her swords, and raised it high. "Farewell."

Utitled Alien Invasion Into

Hello! I'm back!
As you can see from the heading of this post, I've even come back with a short story. Sorry, I still haven't finished City of Walls, or The adventures of the Scarlet Slash. This story is part of a larger story (dare I say a novel) about an alien invasion. I've been working on it off and on for years, and still don't have a title. The working title for this particular piece is

On the Lee of the Mountain

          The goats bleated in disapproval at the interruption to their meal as a tall, thin woman trudged through their midst. Dust from the trail sullies the hem of her black, embroidered robe, and she growls. "Foolish, selfish, lazy man! Sends his own sister to the high pasture to retrieve his goats. Payment for his bride!" Another cloud of dust sprang up as her boot struck the ground. In the distance a low clap of thunder rumbled.

          "If Papa were here, you would be living in your own home. You would have your own goats. You would also collect them yourself, as a proper man should! But no, you take your sister's home, and her dowry for yourself!" Tears hovered at the edges of her eyes, and a hand rubs the moisture away. "Go ahead, take my home, and livelihood, but the day you come for our father's swords, I will cut your hands off." Still moist, her hand lowers to the hilt jutting from her belt on her right side. The palm cradles the worn leather grip, and jaw muscles clench in pain.

          Her shoulders droop, and her hand leaves the sword, as a goat begins to chew the grass beside the trail. With a slow sigh, the woman begins to gather the four goats called for in the letter her brother's bride sent.

          "I wonder how long it will take for Razzak to decide I must get married?" She asked the goat as she herded it back towards some others.

          Thunder boomed through the mid morning sky. As the ground rumbled beneath the woman's feet, she turned away from the path leading to the village. As her eyes searched the clouds looming over the mountain peak, a dark speck burst forth. It fell from the sky, as a ball falls from a child's hand, onto the lee of the mountain.

          Unlike a child's plaything, the object smote the mountain like the hand of a god. Soil and trees erupted into the air. The sound of a whip crack echoed down the side of the mountain, falling on the ears of the woman rooted to the ground. The goats, which had been milling about, scattered down the trail or towards the edges of the pastures. While her sole purpose flew with the wind, she stood as a statue. Down the mountainside, shrugging aside boulders, a sphere of black rolled. The noise of rumbling filled the air continuously. Larger and larger it grew, until it was almost the size of a small hut. Rocks the size of a man's head were crushed to dust under the weight of the thing. A larger boulder, the size of a tall goat, sat directly in the path of destruction, possibly a hundred meters away from the brunette woman. With speed like a horse, the round force of devastation struck the boulder, and with all the agility of a fleeing steed, leapt into the air. In the moments while the orb flew through the air, the statue of a woman returned to life. With nary a trace of emotion, or thought on her narrow face, her stance shifted into one of a practiced swordsman. Her shoulders squared, her legs spread wide, and her hands gripped the sword hilts belted on either hip. When the artifact from the heavens smashed into the ground, it landed a mere 20 paces away from the woman. Her eye lids flashed closed and her whole frame tensed as dirt and rocks showered down on her.

          For the space of three heartbeats silence filled the air. Quietly, almost apologetically, thunder rumbled on the windward side of the mountain.

          The woman opened her bright green eyes, and gazed at the mystery from the sky. An orb of perfect symmetry, and of the color of shadows from the darkest caves rested impeccably still before her. Despite the objects repeated abuses to the mountain, the surface was smooth and unmarred by scratch or blemish. Her hands relaxed and dropped to her sides. A small crease appeared between her thick eyebrows, and she stepped slowly, cautiously forward. As she approached, the thunder returned to its previous boisterous state. Stopping six paces away from the sphere, the woman could see the image of herself imposed upon the onyx surface. Tall, thin, almost frail looking, she appeared. Then her brows lowered, her face stiffened, her nostrils flared, and her green eyes squinted. Her thin lips pursed into a tight small frown, and she spat upon the ground before her.

          "Demon, or God, I have not fled in fear!" Her voice rang out in soft, flowing Urdu, echoing along the mountain. "I care not for games," her right hand reached for the hilt on her lift hip again, "show me your purpose! Or have the decency to return the goats for my brother!"

          Once she finished speaking, her image brightened into a pillar of light. With the sound of hummingbirds wings in the air, the pillar of light slid forward. Thin wisps of cloud hissed around the edges of the pillar, and the sphere opened itself. The portion that had opened slid forward until it touched the ground. The clouds dissipated, and a short, thin, man-shaped figure exited the orb.

          It was covered in small delicate scales of a light green color. The top of its head was adorned with two upright fins. Listless eyes gazed at the woman, and a narrow vertical slit below them opened and closed. A watery yellow substance dribbled out and down to the chest. One limb, ending with a small hand with squat webbed fingers,

reached across the chest to clutch the other to its side, in the unmistakable manner of one holding an arm in pain. Two more limbs ending with long finger-like webbed feet grasped the portion of the orb which lay on the ground. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind brought the woman's head back up.

          Once again the creature had opened its mouth, and with eyes wide open, a word hissed forth.

          "Rescue." The creature spoke a word of the nearly forgotten language belonging to the woman's ancestors. "Ako empo rescue akosa?" When the creature had finished speaking, it closed its eyes and fell forward.

          Immediately the woman let go of her sword hilt, rushed forward, and caught the creature in both arms. A clap of thunder roared nearby, and the ground shook again, but the creature's back had arrested the woman's attention.

          Covering the entirety of the torso was a curved, metallic item. While grey in color, the whole surface was smooth except for a smattering of etchings in the middle. The marks were engraved in a series of lines, squiggles, and circle. The woman's eyes focused on the inscription in the middle. Slowly, gently, the woman lowered the creature to the ground. She then crept around until the opening of the sphere was at her back. Crouching down, she reached out a hand with long slender fingers and traced four particular symbols. Simultaneously her lips mouthed a word from childhood stories.

          "Fairy Varita?" A noise like gurgling water came from beyond the sphere. "Ako empo makadungog akosa? Inepo Muziri, jhe devil yul jhe Jhuntiern ako dinhi sa kill empo." The sounds stopped as a second man-shaped creature appeared.

          This creature had smooth, deep blue skin, as opposed to scales. Short horns adorned the crest of its head, and spikes ran down the sides of the upper and lower limbs. The hands and feet of the new comer were eerily similar to the creature lying prone on the ground. Yet the new comer was not holding itself in a gesture of pain. Instead it held two small glimmering objects. The first was simply a small box, while the other was the familiar shape of a knife.

          Upon seeing the knife, the woman not only grip the hilts of her swords, but she unsheathed them, and brought them forward in one graceful motion. With her swords in position to guard and attack, she stepped over the creature lying prone on the ground; placing herself between it and the armed stranger.

          Its eyes narrowed into slits, as a cat in the noonday sun. The lipless mouth opened and a sound like gurgling water issued forth again. "Jamut, kneel atubangan jhe demon."

          The woman opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. She spoke in the tongue of her ancestors. "You name yourself a demon." The words came slow, and haltingly. "The one behind me you call fairy." She raised the point of her right hand blade and leveled it at the creature's throat. "As the sacred blossoms I was named for, I Bambariush, give my life for the mountain. I may die this day, but so shall you."

          "So you know the Kalasha language. Your kind have not yet forgotten our kind." The horned creature gestured with the knife at the creature behind her. "Soon the world shall know us again. Serve me." The horned creature squeezed the box, then tossed it to the ground.

          "No."

          The bright orange eyes of the new comer narrowed, and the creature charged forward with its knife held high.

          Bambariush quickly raised the sword in her left hand, blocking the knife and pushing it away. In concert with this move, she darted the blade in her right hand downward. The attacker kept its weapon in its claws, and blocked the woman's other blade with the spikes along its arm.

          Thrust and parry, block and slash, on they fought for a short time. Both made glancing hits. The assailant circled around the woman, but Bambariush kept herself between the demon and the fairy.

          The horned creature ran at the woman, knife poised for attack. But this time she stepped to the side, with her left foot crossing over to her right. Her knees bent, lowering her center of gravity, and her whole body rotated with the movement. She bent her left arm at the elbow, keeping it tucked close to her body. Her right arm was straightened outward, with her wrist at an angle. As she completed her rotation, she slashed upward at the aggressor's wrist. She then thrust the left blade into the creature's lower abdomen. Pushing her swords directly into the creature, she lifted it almost half a meter off. the ground. As it descended towards the ground, Bambariush spread her arms wide, slashing the right blade across the smooth hide of the chest, and the left blade cutting through the lower torso. Yellow ichor and streaming viscera spilled out of the creature who had called itself a demon. The woman stood over the creature, her chest and shoulders heaving.

          Slowly, her eyes never leaving the demon, she wiped her blades, then returned them to their scabbards. A thin yellow liquid gurgled out of the its mouth. With the careful movements of a dying man, it rolled onto its side and crawled towards the small box it had tossed before the fight. The horned creature failed at its last task.

          Bambariush retrieved the box, stowing it in a pocket of her robe. She turned back to the wounded creature which bore a parcel bearing the word fairy.

          "The exiled one must see this."