Ruon Chronicles Flash Fiction and News

In which I revisit some earlier worldbuilding that takes the story forward

Hello again Dearest Reader,

So, I’ve been revisiting some of the older pieces of worldbuilding I’ve done for Ruon Chronicles to make sure that I stay on track while macro outlining. I do do some of my worldbuilding through writing fiction like short stories or flash fiction (two of which I’m sharing here) as that seems to help me ground it more than when I do Wikipedia-type articles.

These two stories take place in the country Sjahra (map below), near the city Gado. “Shadows” gives a glimpse of some of the Bad Guys as well and what I’ve planned with some of them.

Otherwise I’m still busy in-between work with the macro outline for The Ruon Chronicles. Luckily this is going much easier now that I have a properly working laptop again, yay! I’m basically just figuring out how best to introduce the characters and story without having the reader being bombarded with so many new people and places that they don’t know if they’re coming or going.

Once that’s done it’ll be a lot easier to draw all the storylines together and then march onwards to … well, you’ll have to wait and see, mwahahaha!

But first, the fiction…

Dust Red As Blood

Arek dug his fingers into the dry ground. Red dust caked beneath the priest’s fingernails and clung to the blood staining his wrinkled hands. Tears turned the world to a blurred, red puddle even as he pushed more of the dirt from the quickly dug grave. He wiped his face, leaving it painted in streaks of red dust, tears, and blood.

Some way from him, standing close to the Veil usually hidden from mortals, was one of the Guardians of the Veil. Her light blue cloak stood in stark contrast to the deep brown of the leather armour she wore. Her face was veiled and her right hand hand was clenched around a spear. She stared out over the flat plain dotted with small settlements.

Behind her the shrine of the Khalne Alima stood broken and burnt.

“Why did you not take me?” he shouted at her. She turned a solemn face towards him. A frown pulled at her brow.

“I was the one who should have guarded the shrine today. You should have taken me!” Arek shouted.

She did not move and kept on staring at him. Behind her the Veil glimmered as if it, too, was seen through tears.

Arek got up and staggered towards her.

“Please, let us trade places,” he pleaded. “Galeun is too young. He was never supposed to have been here.”

“You came as soon as you saw the fire at the shrine. You did not think of your own wellbeing,” she said. The Guardian’s words were clipped as if she was unused to talking. “You are asking something of me which I cannot give.” The Guardian pointed over his shoulder and the man turned around. On the ground, next to the boy, was his own body, disfigured from the wounds dealt to him.


Flash Fiction: Shadows

“It is too late to turn back - for all of us,” I said. “We have to go on. We were chosen for a reason.”

Around us the landscape had turned starker until only short brush remained and the red dust was whipped into the air to scour our faces and hands. The prison tomb, after all, had been built to be forgotten. And it had been forgotten for nearly a thousand years. Books, though, can make memories last a lot longer.

It felt an eternity before we reached the cliffs where the Khalver had been entombed. Some of us - those too weak - had been left behind to be buried in the sand. I wondered if their souls would reach the Veil now. But we had no choice but to push on.

The tombs were carved into the rock and blood-red stone doors, their once pristine carvings worn by time, stood the only guard. I took the tattered tome from the bag digging into my shoulder and opened it at the passage where the words to open the doors had been written down an age ago.

I stumbled over the old words, but, when I had finished, the doors opened with a deep groan. Skeletal remains lay at the doorway and, now that sunlight shone into the tomb, I could see the mass of roiling grey shadows inside.

One of them rushed out and into Raonaild’s screaming mouth. The light of his soul flickered out in a burst of light.

I could hear my own voice echoing a “No!” against the cliffs.

When Raonaild spoke again, it was not with his own voice - or in his own tongue. I stared at the Khalver before me and dropped the book.

The other shadows rushed from their tomb.

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