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From: Vivian Darkbloom <vdkblm-OBLITERATE-SPAM!@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sangrelysia - chapter 3 {Mg magic}
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Date: Sat, 08 Oct 2005 09:10:04 -0400
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                Peace on Earth!



  Dear Gentle Reader,

  Being astute, you probably noticed the resemblance
  between parts of the second chapter and the famous
  (sometimes banned) book "A Wrinkle in Time."  Only
  our version might be called "A Crumb in the Girl-
  Scout Nookie Box."

  Sangrelysia is a land somewhere between Shangri-La
  and the Elysian fields, where magic still happens and
  mythical beasts still abound.


  To more fully enjoy this story in living, breathing HTML,
  please visit our website at:

  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/VivianDarkbloom/www/

  Now offering over 100,000 words of pure prurient prose!

  --------------------------------------------------------




                         Sangrelysia - Chapter 3

                          by Vivian Darkbloom

   The stench of the afternoon marketplace -- of hay, of bleating,
   clucking and baahing goats, chickens and sheep, of horses, of
   onions and bock choy singed by oil in pans over open wood fire,
   of the full warm scent of baking bread and pastries. (Fortunately
   for the olfactory sensors, our pseudo-medieval magical world is
   blessed with indoor plumbing and running water, along with a
   miscellany of other amenities imported from the mundane world).

   Under the bright colors of striped canvas awnings, cheerfully
   flapping pennants and prayer-flags, merchants stood behind piles
   of fruit, vegetables, and other produce, sometimes hawking their
   wares, but more often simply resting in the shade sipping mead,
   tea or coffee, as crowds of young and old ran and shuffled in all
   directions along the dirt path, carrying bags, sacks, and
   backpacks laden with every variety of craft or foodstuff you
   could imagine. Pedestrians mingled with horse and mule-drawn
   carts carrying chairs, honeycombs and hoes. Carpets and wheels,
   brooms and brushes.

   Children played, old folks reminisced.

   Across from where I stood, a young lad in white tunic and black
   beret stood lute-strumming and singing ballads. Above, light
   whiffs of thin clouds here and there punctuated the deep icy blue
   of the autumn sky.

   The placid pastoral scene was marred by the clanging of the
   blacksmith across the way, hammering out yet another sword.
   Sparks flew with each blow, hammer against anvil with the red-hot
   blade between, beside his hellish furnace. Then finally a clatter
   as it joined its already-made companions, and the smith picked up
   another blank, to begin hammering away again.

   Two knights strolled by in faintly jingling chainmail. "Did you
   hear, the King's dog has fallen ill?" remarked one to the other.

   Three girls, maybe five years old, ran along the path in the
   opposite direction, entirely naked. Laughing and teasing, hair
   dripping wet, most likely from bathing in the nearby stream.

   Then came a sound I would happily live my entire life without
   hearing again. The bugle and drum of the King's soldiers, on the
   elevated stage at the center of the marketplace. As I strolled
   over to where the crowd, mostly of young men, was gathered, I
   noticed an unusually high concentration of armored knights amid
   the populace.

   "Hear ye, hear ye, listen one, listen all. As you have all heard,
   the nation of Valeplysia has been committing acts of unspeakable
   terror in our land. Our roads are not safe. Our homes are not
   safe. Our children are not safe. But praise God, our King is
   preparing a campaign to put an end to these haters of liberty,
   seeking able-bodied young men, especially those capable of
   wielding sword, axe or cross-bow, seeking glory on the
   battlefield."

   "Rubbish," I shouted. "It's a pack of lies."

   I felt more than saw from the corner of my eye, as behind me the
   two armored knights closed in on me. Sighing, I slipped into a
   dimensional pocket in time, and continued strolling through the
   frozen crowd, then let myself gently back into the timestream a
   dozen paces away, enjoying the knights' temporary confusion.

   "Over there," one of them grunted in frustration, and they came
   after me again.

   Once more, I slipped into a space outside of time, but this time
   continued until I had skirted the fringe of the crowd and
   ascended the wooden plank stage, to where I was standing on the
   opposite side of the King's mouthpiece.

   As I let time move forward again, the speaker was squinting into
   the crowd, shading his eyes with his hand to see what the
   commotion had been.

   "I said -- " I continued, "Rubbish. It's a pack of lies."

   The murmuring of the crowd dropped off into dead silence with my
   unexpected appearance. All eyes in the crowd strained to see what
   was happening on the stage.

   Like lightning, the lead henchman spun towards me, sword drawn,
   the point held inches from my heart. "I don't know who you are,
   old man, but begone, and dare not speak against His Majesty, or
   I'll have to run you through." The other henchmen, by his side,
   flustered, wobbled ineffectually.

   I raised my eyebrow whimsically. "Run me through, will you?" I
   asked.

   He yelped, like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, and his
   sword clattered to the ground, the handle glowing with the red
   heat of a blacksmith's poker.

   He raised his fist, and I lifted my index finger warningly.

   He balked.

   "Right," I continued, addressing the henchmen. "As I was saying,
   contrary to what these poor ignorant folks hear from the pack of
   lies you have been spewing at them for the past few days, the
   people of Valeplysia are in fact civil and orderly, and indeed,
   you yourself could well stand to learn some of their manners, for
   (unlike yourselves) they are fair, gentle and polite. All anyone
   would have to do to discover this, is to journey to their land."

   "But they offer children as a death sacrifice!" cried a young
   male voice from the crowd. "Their evil priests drink the blood!"

   I clucked disparagingly at the scowling henchmen. "Really, you've
   stooped to such levels of absurdity in your propaganda?"

   Enraged, the henchmen all began yelling at me at once,
   unintelligibly hurling angry epithets. I held up my hand, and
   they continued their shouting, but in complete silence.

   I gestured at them to the crowd. "This is their idea of civility.
   They substitute insults for facts, obedience for creativity, and
   they refuse to allow anyone who disagrees with them to finish a
   sentence, because they know they could never win a fair
   argument."

   I waved at the henchmen once more, and they froze. "So, as the
   king's wizard, let me bring you another side of the story. The
   only reason the King has power over you, is because you allow him
   to.

   "The only force robbing you of your freedom, and keeping you in
   subservience, is your own failure to question. Without your lack
   of imagination, his tyranny would crumble around him. The sole
   force keeping it in place is your fear, because it is on account
   of that irrational terror he has instilled in you, that you
   remain his servants.

   "King George is the worst ruler we have seen in the history of
   the kingdom. While claiming to espouse `life,' he has executed
   more prisoners than any other, many without conclusive evidence
   of guilt. He lies and manipulates continually to feed his
   insatiable greed and lust for power. His constant campaigns for
   conquest have terrorized the people of all other nations, and
   sapped the resources of our own kingdom at the expense of the
   poor, to the point of collapse. He will stop at no means to
   silence those who disagree with him. He embraces the use of
   torture even though it is widely accepted as immoral, and well
   known to be ineffective for acquiring information.

   "If you follow his blind, so-called leadership into this foolish
   campaign, you have only yourselves to blame for the hopeless
   morass that you will find yourselves enmired in."

   For a brief moment, as I stopped speaking, there was the silent
   stillness only broken by distant lutesong and animal cries. The
   picture of gaping incredulous gazes throughout the crowd was
   worth the whole event.

   Then, all at once, raucous angry commotion broke loose from all
   sides.

   Sighing once more, I slipped out of the timestream, this time
   walking calmly through the frozen world along a back trail up to
   a hilltop overlooking the marketplace, before I once more
   released the course of time to progress along its merry way. I
   stood for several minutes, unnoticed in the shade beneath a tree,
   watching unseen from behind the sturdy trunk as the crowd boiled
   and frothed with rage and puzzlement below me.

   As I slipped away back to the castle tower, I heard the high
   voice of the young bard carried sweetly on the wind.

     Between the moments linger memories of you.
     Sails over the ocean waves, tossing and blue
     will carry me back to my lover so true. . .

     ____________________________________________________________


  For more stories, visit our site on asstr-mirror.org 
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/VivianDarkbloom/www/



  

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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