Pendant of Power

Zerenasalee stood in the dark, the coarse feel of the hemp rope held tightly in her hands, trying to relieve the strain on her wrists. She had no idea as to why they had bound her. It was unusual for one of the sisters to be bound this way. Plunged into darkness that exceeded her ability to dispel.

'Come, sister, it is time.' It was Julerenna; Zerenasalee did not trust this one as far as she could throw her. She was the fourth. The sorceress of the squad. There were always four to a squad, and one of them was always a sorceress or wizard. Julerenna had not long joined the team, and here she was now, leading Zerenasalee like a goblin slave.

It was Julerenna's spell of darkness that shrouded her eyes; she knew it to be so. The rope was also enchanted. It was made by crude goblinoid hands, be it an orc, bugbear or some other slave of the drow. As poorly as it was made, it had been deliberately chosen to humiliate her.

There was a sudden jerk of the rope, causing Zerena to lurch forward. She would not dare do this without this cursed rope. It had drained Zerena of any strength or hope of retribution against her sister.

'Why do you do this, sister? Why am I, the senior of our squad, getting treated in such a way?'

'You, sister, gave a pendant of power to a human, one of the short-lived, to squander and taint with their filth,' spat Julerenna. 'Now be quiet, we approach the court.'

Zerenasalee was able to sense when they passed through the doors into the main hall. She could feel the size of the cavern, the close walls falling away into a vault two hundred feet wide, one hundred high and five hundred long.

The queen and king's thrones sat atop a thirty-foot dais about two-thirds of the way down. As she approached in her bubble of darkness, she could hear the murmuring of the court, and as she had known, she was in the cavern; she could feel that they had approached the high elves as the council's murmuring fell into silence.

'Julerenna, daughter. Who, or what, have you brought before the queen and council?' Zerena recognised the Lord King's voice.

'Zerenasalee, my lord. She has returned a failure, stripped of her pendant and without the elven child.'

The silence was palpable; all shuffling of the court ceased, and no noise was made. Zerenasalee could only imagine what was happening. A moment later, the darkness dropped, her dilated pupils constricting in the dim light of the queen's council.

The king had walked down the stairs of the dais to stand in front of the two drow women tethered together. 'Explain yourself.'

'Sister Julerenna tells the story incorrectly. I have not returned a failure, nor have I lost my pendant. I am using it to the benefit of the overall mission. The elven boy is returning to Dalgroth, and I have found a way to retrieve the child from the dwarven citadel.'

'Julerenna, is this right?'

'No, my lord. She returned without her pendant. Sister Valtraee told me she had given it to a human. Valtraee had lost her hounds to human rangers; she had no reason to lie.'

'You lie! You are trying to ingratiate yourself with the council, you snivelling novice.' Zerenasalee screamed, trying to free her hands from the hemp bonds, wanting to strangle her sister here in front of the council.

'STOP!' The queen leaned forward in her throne, grasping the armrests. 'Explain yourself. I will decide upon who is telling stories.'

'Your Highness, it is true, I have given my pendant to a human. Only so I could control him, and yes, Valtraee has seen him -- it is how she found us. Her hound had been killed by rangers. It is because of these things that I have returned. The Falconbred Rangers are on the hunt, and the elven boy travels with the Drow Slayer.'

This time, the council was not so silent; at the mention of the Drow Slayer, a murmur spread throughout the crowd watching this interaction.

'That is not possible. She lies. She failed, lost her pendant and is making up stories, even raising the spectres of our past from the grave.' Julerenna was not going to give up. Why was she in such a rush to please the council -- was it simply unbridled ambition, or was it something else?

'Sister Valtraee?'

'Yes, your Highness.' Valtraee stepped forward calmly; she had followed her two sisters. Zerenasalee knew she had been smart enough not to antagonise Julerenna, else they would both be led like common slaves before the queen.

'Which of your sisters tells the truth?'

'Zerenasalee does, your Highness. The elven boy travels the white ways. My hound was tracking them when it was trapped by two Falconbred rangers and killed. Zerenasalee's human was not involved. It was her pet that confirmed the Drow Slayer walks again; he had gotten close enough to recognise the weapon the dwarf carried.'

'Julerenna, release your sister.' It was the king who spoke, turning to walk up the stairs of the dais to sit beside his queen. 'Tell me, Zerenasalee, what do you intend?'

Zerenasalee felt the blood rush back into her hands, and the strength returned to her body as her sister Julerenna removed the rope. 'You will pay for this, my dear sister. Do watch your back,' she whispered between pursed lips as she looked up towards the king and queen.

'Your Highness, my lord. We know that the elf boy is returning to Dalgroth. I have to assume they are seeking answers. It is only logical that they will approach the elves for answers. If the Falconbred are involved, you can be certain that Falcon himself, the emissary between dwarves and elves, will be involved.

'I suggest we go to Dalgroth and get the boy before they reach the Jorth Wood and alert our surface-dwelling cousins that we seek their Quenya.'

'How may I ask, will you do this, sister? Dalgroth was lost to us in the Dwarf Wars. The Lord of Dalgroth, Falcon and the Drow Slayer made sure of that.'

Zerenasalee looked at her sister with amusement. 'You may be a skilled sorceress, my sister, but you still have so much to learn. Cassruan?'

A lean drow woman stepped out of the crowd that was the council. This woman looked much like Zerenasalee and Valtraee, dressed in the same black form-fitting leather, two scimitars crossing her back, their hilts protruding above each shoulder. 'Here, sister.'

'Your Highness, Sister Cassruan has studied and explored the old passages. The passages that lead to Dalgroth. We will go that way.'

'Is this right, Cassruan?'

'Yes, your Highness. When our squad was set to search for the elven Quenya, we discovered that Falcon had taken the child to Dalgroth. It was my task to research the Dwarf Wars and find out if there was anything of use to us. I did this while my sisters Zerenasalee and Valtraee went on the hunt.'

'And Sister Julerenna -- what was your role in your squad's plans?'

Julerenna looked first at the queen who had asked the question, then to the three drow assassins who were her sisters, her squadmates. 'I -- I was to stay here, and act as a conduit between their exploits and the council.'

'And have you done that, my daughter?'

Again, Julerenna glanced between the queen and her squad, nervously. 'As best I could, your Highness.'

'Good.' Turning to Zerenasalee: 'Sister, you lead your squad well. The council has not lost confidence in your efforts. Please take what you feel you need and continue.'

All four members of the squad bowed in unison to the queen and king, took three backward steps, then turned and made the long walk back the way Zerenasalee had been led not ten minutes earlier. Zerenasalee led the way, followed by Valtraee and Cassruan walking side by side, and Julerenna. Not a word was spoken as they made their exit.

As soon as the doors to the hall closed behind them, Zerenasalee turned. 'Cass and Val, we leave at dawn. Get some Duergar to come with us -- they will be useful in the tunnels.'

'What do I do, Zerena?'

'You! My dear girl, call me by my title. You are not a sister in my squad -- you have to earn that place. You will go to the Jorth Wood and await our return. We will have to come across the surface, and may need your assistance as we make our return.'

With that, Zerenasalee turned and followed behind her two sister drow, who had not waited to observe the interaction. Not thirty feet later, Zerena turned left, glancing back to where Julerenna still stood, silent, mouth agape. Zerena was pleased to see that her sister had received the message clearly. Excluded from the squad, Julerenna had a lot to learn before she would be considered part of it again.

Trust

 Well, I went off to the Sydney Writers Festival this evening. One of the things I like about Story-a-Day in May is that it coincides with the Sydney Writers Festival, and this evening I went to two of the three events I will attend this year.

The first was an interview of Jimmy Wales by Australian stalwart Richard Fidler, of Conversations fame. I went alone. When we were going through the program, this one jumped out at me. If you don't know Jimmy Wales, he is one of the founders of Wikipedia, and after 25 years, has published a book titled The Seven Rules of Trust, subtitled Why It Is Today's Most Essential Superpower.

I'll be honest, I went not knowing what to expect, though I had bought his book a few weeks back (Tattoo Day) and had started reading it before I went. It both met and exceeded my expectations. They did not go into the craft of writing. That will be another talk. What they did go into is the story of Wikipedia and the role trust played in that.

All in all, a very valuable chat, and an even more valuable book, which is immediately applicable across a breadth of areas: in our personal life, and most definitely in my professional life as a Chief Tech leading a group of 120+ people in a digital transformation that delivers learning services to 45,000 students.

One key thing that jumped out at me, and this was early in the talk, was the trust pyramid, drawn below and now, looking at the book, drawn slightly differently but the same. The idea is that to have trust, you need the three elements of Authenticity, Empathy, and Logic.

Funnily enough, in leading my people and in the interactions I have with them, I'd like to think I demonstrate and live these traits daily. The feedback I get gives me a sense that I do, yet naming it, even drawing it up on my whiteboard at the office, means I will be able to live it and teach others.

All in all, a good talk, a valuable book, and one I would feel comfortable recommending and sharing with others.

Shopping list, not.

 It was time to go; there was nothing left here for him anymore. Looking about his one-room abode, he grabbed his backpack. ‘His rations', if that's what he could call them, seven days' worth, tinderbox wrapped in a leather cloth, tied. Potion of healing, a gift from old Roy that he'd never had to use; without a doubt, he would. Holy water, blanket on top, tied down. Hand lantern next, pulled from the shelf to the right of his door, tied snug against his pack so it wouldn't swing, make noise, or worse, get carelessly smashed.

Shit. He opened his pack and shoved his oil and cleaning cloth back in, pulling the lid down and tying off.

Pulling his chain mail over his undergarments, then his travelling shirt over the top, strapping a quiver of crossbow bolts to his leg, hooking his hand crossbow off his left hip, greatsword slung over his right shoulder down to his left hip, hilt rising over his right shoulder. Reaching for it, pulling it free, then letting it slide back into place, notching in.

Looking about, it was still dark, the fire casting a dim red glow about the room, having died down while he slept. Everything was in order, in place. They didn't expect him on watch until the evening; he'd be long gone.

Lifting his backpack, right arm first, then left, he checked his sword again, still within reach, sliding free and back in easily. And that was it. He was on his way. Grabbing his bota bag, filled with water, he exited both quietly and with purpose.

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Today’s prompt - write a story around a shopping list, slight variation. Here’s the list:

Equipment (64 lb.)

• Chain Mail (55 lb.) — AC 16, Str 13, Stealth

• Hand Crossbow (3 lb.) — Martial, Ammunition, Range, Light, Loading, Vex, Range (30/120)

• Greatsword (6 lb.) — Martial, Heavy, Two-Handed, Graze

Backpack (29.5 lb.)

• Blanket (3 lb.)

• Holy Water (1 lb.)

• Lamp (1 lb.)

• Potion of Healing (0.5 lb.)

• Rations x7 (14 lb.)

• Robe (4 lb.)

• Tinderbox (1 lb.)

Crossbow Bolt Case (2.5 lb.)

     Crossbow Bolts x20 (1.5 lb.)

Artemis II

 'Woah, what the heck was that!'

EekBok pulled back hard on the left joy, leaning to his left more out of sensation and the pure thrill of the craft moving around him, TooBop. 'That, my friend, is the hoomans.'

TooBop, leaning forward in her seat, looked in every direction, trying to see what had flown by, out of sight for a moment until EekBok manoeuvred the vessel around, and there it was, a little spherical cone drawing away from where they sat. 'I knew you said it would be more impressive than the comet, but I didn't think we'd get this close.'

'Yup, I told you we'd get to see it. Would you believe it's been 54 years since their last visit? Oh, recently, there's been a little more traffic up there in their orbit, a few go out to what they call a space station.' Pointing to the right of the hoomans capsule, 'There. Nowhere near as far as a loop around the moon.'

'Why so long between turns?' asked TooBop, looking at her friend, knowing he'd have the answer.

'Well, that's something we speculate about all the time, it's weird. My view is that they came up here the first time as some sort of competition; the craft came from two different points on the globe, then they just stopped. I tell you what, though, they've not advanced as much as I thought they would’ve.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, look at it, it's pretty much like the one I saw 54 years ago, it's literally just falling through space, falling back to their planet.'

TooBop squinted, or what would pass for a squint, the magnifying eyelid passing over her eye, bringing the capsule closer. 'You're right, I can't see any form of propulsion.'

'It's great, isn't it. They're so primitive, yet think about the maths they're doing, it's like the stuff we learnt in high school.' EekBok paused, watching them fall toward the earth, in awe of what he saw. His kind had once been like these hoomans. So basic, daring in what they were doing, so fragile.

'So why are they back?'

'Oh, again something we don't know. My theory? All sorts of things, they're overpopulating, and the last couple of years they've had pandemics, wars, floods, fires, famines, all sorts of stuff.'

Pausing momentarily to look at TooBop, her eyes were fixed on the scene playing out before them. 'Don't get me wrong, they've always had these things, they just seem to be happening more frequently now.'

TooBop was amazed — she didn't realise her friend was so knowledgeable about hoomans. 'How do you know all of this?'

By way of answer, EekBok continued, 'The Faculty of Hooman Research says there are all sorts of reasons for them being back, one of them being that they are getting ready to abandon their planet. Some of them, anyway.'

'Hey, what's happening now?' TooBop had stopped squinting out the windscreen and had turned her attention to the screen on the centre console, pressing the thumb joy to zoom and track the capsule. 'What are the orange and white things?'

'Oh, their parachutes — that's how they're slowing themselves down. They're doing a controlled crash.'

'Crash!'

'Yup, that and landing it in the water. They'll slow it down enough not to hurt the hoomans inside. Like I said, pretty simple tech, literally a funny-shaped container flying through space, nothing more. To see tech like that, you and I would have to go to the Museum of Ancient History.'

'Oh EekBok, this is so, so. I don't know, scary. I'm scared for them. Do you think they'll survive? You know, in the longer term?'

Salivating Seagull

 

'Aaargh, aaargh. What are you doing?' Sylvia, the seagull, called as she landed next to her friend Percival. Percival the Pelican.

'Well, can't you see I'm trying to eat this here battered fish?' answered Percival in his deep baritone pelican voice.

'You can't do that here, you dopey pouch-mouthed bird, it's a road, you'll get run over.'

'Well, I can't fly with it, I've tried. There is so much salt on it that when I hold it in my bill, I salivate so much it fills and weighs me down to the ground.'

'I can carry it.'

'C'mon, pull the other one, you're a seagull — you think I came down in the last shower?'

'What do you mean?'

'You buggers gorge yourselves.'

'C'mon Percy, Maaate, would I lie to you?'

'As sure as eggs.'

'I'm just trying to help, I don't want you wiped out by a car.'

'Alrighty then, you promise you won't fly off with it?'

'Swear on me Nana.'

'Right then.' And with that, Percival flicked his bill, and the battered fish landed in front of Sylvia. 'On ya Nana it is.'