PRESENT DAY:- 991TGT

UNIVERSE OF TARGUM

NEW PLANET AG105:- AGIOS (As called by inhabitants)

Climbing on an upthrust of warm, northern air, Viridiana exulted in her existence by following the thermals. The slow, regular beat of her mighty wings, sped her away from her Mountain. Her egg was resting safely inside the chasm. Her mate had left many phases ago. She had followed the migratory pattern of their kind. Not over the hills and far away but through the atmosphere and into the infinite universe. Dragons, after all, were colonists here. She would follow when her pup hatched. For now, she stretched her wings. It had been a long season, and she was ravenous.

The coast lay to the East of Upton. She flew high. She flew fast. Her body scaled. Each scale was a different shade of green. She passed over the coastline at Smugglers Cove. Not too high to smell the salt of the sea or see the cockle gulls following the tiny fishing boats perilously dancing the waves. The urge to swoop down beneath the gulls, roast them in a breath, eating them as they fell, almost overpowered her but she needed more substantial fare, not a snack. Maybe on the way back from lunch at Dragon Isle she would stop for desserts.

The island was far from the coast, never visited by people. It was full of ekwids, hogs, bovines and shugs. With no predators on the isle, the cattle flourished. Viridiana kept it flourishing by only selectively eating the stock.

After satiating her hunger, she flew for the fun of it. Her large yellow eyes were smiling with delight as she soared on the breeze, climbing on the up-draughts, diving on the down-draughts. Higher and higher she broke free of the planet's atmosphere out into space. Looking towards Agios, it quickly became the size of a spinning rock. It would be home for a few seasons yet. It was her inheritance to her pup. Then the time would come. The cycle would complete.

Viridiana let her soul fly free. Only now she wasn't flying. Here outside the force of the planet, only tiny motions were needed to move. It was like swimming with no effort, drifting on the water, dreamy and tranquil.

She awoke with a start, laughing at herself for sleeping in space. She looked away from the planet towards where her instincts told her to look, hoping for a sign or a trail left by her mate and her kind. There was none.

Diving headfirst back through the atmosphere she tried to get a bearing. She saw the large landmass that was The Fenland, and to the south-east, she saw the crescent of Smugglers Cove. Time for that snack. With barely a thought she made herself invisible so as not to warn the gulls of her approach. Caves sucked in the incoming tide and spewed out a deafening, glistening foam. It was too easy, and the nearest gull to her breath was far too well done for her liking, as she caught and ate it in one movement.

Soaring back to the rocks of the shoreline, she decided to fly low overland home and maybe pick up another meal before returning.

Viridiana noticed the dark clouds to the East and heard the rumble in the air. It was New Leaf here on Agios, and the rains were due.

With her back to the weather, she followed the slow curve of the Cove, mainly rocks, with sand and pebble beach, ending in a small glade of ker bushes. Surrounded by strip vines and flanked by pore fruit trees. A path led from the valley, worn down by years and years of use by the inhabitants of the small village further north on the fens. Heading inland and slowly rotating she felt the soggy, coastal drizzle coming out of the heavily laden clouds. Large whitewashed wood constructions housed the local inhabitants. The homes centred around a large, lush, green field. In its middle was a reed-filled pond, which was home to various surface swimming birds. Piles of tree trunks had been arranged at one end of the field for the young people to climb and play on. As Viridiana passed, she watched the young, hiding, jumping and swinging on the logs.

A flagpole adorned the edge of the field, flying the Nocton coat of arms. A bird and a tree. Some of the people were outside their houses. Some were taking in washing from the impending storm, others were mending fishing nets, repairing small boats or painting houses. Ragtag offspring were running around the houses chasing fowl or each other. All the youngsters dressed in homespun cotton shirts and breeches of many bright and garish colours. Razorgulls were following behind an eqwid a large four-legged animal was pulling a plough that turned over the rich dark soil. Still peckish she swooped in lower. The ekwid moved slowly, pulling the plough strapped to its harness. Its eyes were almond-shaped and as black as polished ebony. Its regal head covered in brown, shiny fur with a long, cone-shaped muzzle and triangular ears at the top –next to a pair of sturdy horns. The ekwid was at least the height of one of the people and had muscles that rippled as it moved. It looked built for both power and speed. Using its seemingly limitless strength, it ploughed the soil in a straight line, occasionally letting out a bellowing release of energy. Besides the ekwid, a person tightly held a rope attached to the leather collar around the beast's neck.

The plough would be a problem, so Viridiana circled the village. There! A whole field of ekwid. She dove in low and picked up a beast in her talons. She headed home carrying her supper.

Two boys, one dark and one with curly blonde hair, both carrying bows looked up.

"Todd! Todd! There's a flying ekwid."

"Bloody hell Klem you're right. You don't see that every day."

Viridiana looked down; remembering she was invisible, became visible again. She let out a breath of fire and nonchalantly continued homeward.

*******

Klem left archery practice early. As soon as he knew he was going to lose; even if his last arrow struck dead centre. He threw his quiver on over his shoulder, chucked his useless bow to the ground for stamping on. He stopped short. Keeping his temper was a daily effort. All his fifteen years he had struggled with his emotions. Best to run. Wind in his hair, like a racing ekwid. Across the field, past the small wood and to his favorite place. The place he felt safe. On the banks of the catchway. A small stream that ran the distance of the fens. Here he could fill his senses. The low rumble of the stream the strong aroma of the wind-wafted cascadia blooms. They covered both banks. Dazzling his eyes with their all-weather golden glow.

His dad had told him that he was different. His thoughts were quicker. His thoughts were like a racing ekwid. Knowing that he could run and run and keep running. Fast. It was the slowing down that he had to get better at. His mind never stopped racing. When he was younger, he could not slow down. However hard he tried he could not stop the frustration. This led to anger and an impenetrable, messy cloud would obscure his confused mind. He would lash out. Do silly, naughty things, say silly, naughty things. Things he didn't mean to do or say. Spitting, punching, swearing. He knew the calmest he would ever be was here. All senses, moderately occupied.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

He reached for his belt. The soft-glass box contained his beetles. There were ten beetles. All different colours. It had taken many New-leafs to complete his menagerie. He had finally found the blue-moon beetle on one of the logs in the village square. He now had a rainbow of insects and was happy with his collection. The box was clear. He could see the beetles running around the maze he had made inside it. He had named them all. Jed, Mo, Connie, Mum, Dad, Todd, Bob, Ethel, Dorky and Klem. Klem was the fastest. He could watch them for ages. He often lost complete track of time whilst doing so. His eyes would glaze in a kind of super-focus.

Once his dad had explained the way Klem was to his family they learnt to keep his frustrations in check. His mother was often at her wit's end with his siblings and it took a great deal of inner strength and hardness of mind for her to stay calm, not to argue, and to praise where it was due. Klem would not be told. He could be given choices and would work hard for a fair reward. At fifteen years of age, he was able to keep his frustrations within. He would always have a fast mind and lose attention easily but he had a feeling of some outward emotional control.

It took a while for Klem to register the loud voice calling to him. Uncle Bob always knew where to find him.

"Klem, get your skinny arse in here. Storm's a comin'."

Bob Graveny didn't have to shout to make his voice boom across the muddy dark space that passed as the street in Nocton. His bushy grey beard seemed to amplify his voice. The power did not reflect his large span of years or the frailty of his aching joints. Turning on his walking stick, he made to limp back into his home.

Raising his eyes to the sky and dropping his shoulders, Klem gasped,

"Uncle Bob just a bit longer?"

Klem was nearly an adult and growing at a rapid rate. After the Winter he would have his graduation feast. Able to choose an apprenticeship. He had curly blond hair that fell over his left eye when he was in a temper, being cheeky or impish. Outwardly happy, respectful of his family and elders, Klem had few close friends, his ways made him difficult to understand. Doing things Klems' way wasn't always fun.

Archery, ekwid riding and swordplay were the main activities of the village boys when school was out. Klem had spent most of his free time doing all three most of the holidays. He was never far from his best friend, Todd.

"C'mon, boy. Your Auntie Ethel has just got one of her Hog pies out of the oven, and you will have none unless you get in now. You understand, boy?"

Klem watched Mo the green beetle win the race in the maze and put his box back in his belt. He couldn't miss out on his Aunts' hog pie.

Klem ran from the stream, carefully carrying his home-made longbow and keeping one hand on his quiver to make sure no arrows fell out in his haste. He opened the rickety gate that opened onto the muddy path flanked either side by ker bushes. Flower beds were coming into bloom, and the smell of New-Leaf was in the close air.

The house was not much more than a large shed made from timber, hewn from the massive yukoya trees of Upton forest, two days of flights to the south. The wood regularly transported to Nocton by a team of ekwids driven by the village ekwid rancher, to turn into new houses and furniture by the villagers.

The yukoya trees produced hardwood and did not rot quickly, even in the damp of the fens.

The windows hung with bright floral curtains tied with hemp to either side. A vase of tulips stood in the centre of each, either side of the ranch-like door.

As the ominous, dark clouds from the east closed in, the first drops of rain began to fall, a crack of thunder hurried Klem on his way. He followed his uncle through the front door and was immediately hit by the aroma of the hog pie just out of the oven.

"That smells great, Auntie Ethel."

Ethel beamed a big smile.

"Well, I know it's your favourite, and a growing lad like you needs all the sustenance he can get."

Ethel was small for a Fenlander--Klem was already a head taller than she was. She had curly grey hair and sparkly grey eyes. She had never had children of her own, and she doted on her nephews and nieces.

Klem was the oldest and staying with them for a few days before school started again for the Green-Leaf term. Klem enjoyed staying with Auntie Ethel and Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob was Klem's mentor and understood his ways.

It gave him some space from his annoying siblings, and them from him. Jed, Connie and Mo. His parents knew he would be well looked after. Ethel enjoyed feeding an extra mouth. She had been the headteacher at White Post school three flights West of the village until sickness had made her retire early. Now she spent most of her time cooking and baking; she always smelled of biscuits. The kitchen was at the front of the house with a large carved yukoya table in pride of place. A selection of pots, pans, baking trays and cake moulds hung from the painted black beams over the table. The wood-burning stove provided the warmth as well as the food.

Catching the heat, curled up, in a custom-made basket, lay Dorky, their resident marsh-dribbler. Dorky yawned and opened his protruding jaws, showing razor-sharp teeth, belying the affable cuteness of his rounded head and large, sad, dark blue eyes. Covered in long grey fur, he was a threat only to the rodents and reptiles that lived under the raised wooden houses and many discarded pie crusts had made him comfortably chubby and at home by the stove.

Klem joined his Uncle Bob at the table.

"Well my boy, you should have worked up an appetite. You have been shooting arrows and riding them beasts all week! Wish I could join in, but my leg is a right bugger."

Ethel glanced over at Bob with a look that said that she should be telling him off for that kind of language. Over the years she had learnt that it would do no good. He was incorrigible, and nothing would stop him. Klem flushed at Uncle Bob's language but let a small grin escape behind his pie.

"Uncle Bob?"

"Yes, lad?" A piece of short pastry clung to Bob's beard.

"Is it true that the Mangorians are invading? Todd's dad was talking about it." Klems' eyes were wide with excitement and fear, as his curly fringe flopped over his eyes.

"Dan has no right talking tattle in front of you boys, but it may be true. We be living in dangerous times. You know that Klem, what with the invasion of Upton last year. Upton can't support the mangorians, and they be likely to be running out of supplies for their army. Their scouts be looking to us to the east to feed em. You be near to age and be of the right to know the truth. Much that I would rather it not be true. Don't you go fretting now."

"Are we gonna fight them, then, uncle?" Klem shifted in his seat and bent closer to Uncle Bob so as not to miss any word.

All the boys in the village had talked about nothing else for the last few weeks. All were ready to fight for their freedom but not sure how. Some had stockpiled sticks and stones in readiness. Pip Starchild had found a rusted axe turned over by the ekwids in Dingle fields to the North and had hidden it under his back porch. Klem just wasn't sure, he had his longbow, but his arrows were pointy sticks and no threat unless he could get real arrowheads somewhere. Even then, its poor construction meant it shot a span to the left for every twenty spans away from the target. His dad had a real sword, and he knew uncle Bob had served in the King's Guard many years ago, in defence of the fenland against the murklanders.

Bob stroked his crumb infested beard thoughtfully.

"I hope not, lad. We don't stand a chance here. This village is small fry to them, our best chance is that they pass us by and leave us be. If not, they will take all our food and livestock and leave us starving or worse. It's said they enslave all before 'em. Not to worry, though lad, the village council be meeting tomorrow evening to put together a plan. Grimwald will have a solution. It will be for the best. He's asked me to ask you to come along to share yer thoughts. Everyone in the village who can carry a sword is to be there."

"Yes!" Klem exclaimed, pulling a fist and bringing it close to his chest, his eyes bright with exhilaration at being included in the council and the chance for adventure.

"Hold on there, lad! Just see if you feel the same with a bloody giant warrior of Mangor pointing a sword at your trembling vitals."

Auntie Ethel dropped her pie tin with an almighty clatter "Now you look here Bob, don't go scaring the lad with stuff like that. He's just a boy!"

"I'm afraid he will be a man sooner than expected" Uncle Bob cleared his plate with a swipe of bread in his gravy.

The storm broke from the East. The trouble was brewing from the West