The Kingdom of the Emerald Hills

"The land bows under it's burden. Nothing more than weeping wounds remain of her." The elderly voice still shook him to the core, her teeth grated like rusted iron nails. The seer's words slowly flowed from her mouth, each word clinging to her bloodied lips. The stark contrast between her sanguine mouth against the sickly pale demeanor was intoxicating.

He had come to receive her wisdom one last time.

The thundering waves crashed angrily, raking it's foamy dark green fingers against the battered rocky cliff below.

"It wasn't all my fault..", the trembling voice declared. The strong gusts of deep seated winter could almost steal the words and breath from his lungs and mind. He stood defiantly against the storm that had culminated almost a year ago. It had worn on him like ill-deserved leprosy. Was this his penance he was condemned to live out until that fateful day.

He invited the memory of her scent. The dark curls streaming over her eyes. He forgot the pain for a moment.

"You showed them hope only to steal it away from them like a traitorous thief....not once...but twice..."

"YOUR ACCUSATIONS ARE OF NO CONSEQUENCE TO ME NOW MOTHER SEER." His voice projected violently. Glimpses of her dream washed over the weathered seer with wrathful venom.

"No more..." The glint of silver was quickly masked by the folds of tattered fabric and leathery flesh. The ancient one let out a quick gasp. Her dream would not let her down. He would not disappoint the fates.

Bony fingers crushingly clamped unto his forearms, her twisted fingernails dug deeply. It was not the oncoming darkness that frightened her the most. She could see it. Just behind his eyes. Secretly lurking no more, he had seen what she had prayed would be clouded from his vision.

Salty beads dripped from his nose and eyelashes as he leaned in closer than he had ever been brave enough to approach the aging sage. He studied the worn face and fading light in her eyes. He never imagined it to be like this. She was not like the others. Those who claimed to be of royal blood or even the most common peasant could not compare to the exhilaration this moment caused deep inside.

"I have been blessed...to...not...", her lungs began to flood with heart blood. Soon she would drown from within. "have ...seen what you will become..." It was the look of serenity that empowered her even in death. He would carry her memory with him to the grave." Gently gripping the back of her dropping head, the dark figure pressed his cold lips against her cooling forehead.

With a gently shove, he released his embrace. Her eyes rolled back to the heavens above. The sound of the blade exiting broken flesh was lost in the roaring of the ocean below. Her fall was effortless. Graceful.

He watched for the special majicks to erupt from the dark clouds or rolling waves, but he stood alone.

Disappointed.

S
[con't]

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The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu

Her skin slid effortlessly across his lips. Her mouth tasted sweet of plum wine. She was intoxicating. Her shimmering eyes pierced him to the core, he yearned for more. Her voice coiled teasingly around his spirit. His fervor could no longer be contained. His arms tightly embraced as she cooed just the way he last remembered. Her lips locked unto his with a renewed passion he had seemingly forgotten. He crushingly held her against his body, never wanting to let go. He wanted to look at her one more time. Just one more time. He pressed his hot cheek against her face. Cold. Cold and lifeless. His heart panicked once again. No. Not again. He did not notice her loosening grip. Her head limply rocked back. He grit his teeth as he wept. He managed to find the courage to pry open his tear clinched eyes. He stared into empty sockets. The beautiful flesh that once framed her elegant bones was a sickly pale bluish-green. Thin like paper. Her lips had curled back, exposing sun-bleached teeth. Her lush mane had thinned out to patches of stringy hair.

His angry condemnations could wake the dead.

His sat up in the poor excuse of a cot. He was covered in a cold sweat again, his sleeping pants uncomfortably clingy. The drumming in his mind eerily resembled a racing heart nestled deep inside a foreign chest.

He surveyed the strange room and quickly recanted the night before, remembering having checked into the run down inn just north of the nearest kingdom stronghold.

Swinging his legs over the side of the hay filled sack that doubled for a bed, he rested his elbows on his thighs and cradling his head in his clammy palms.

The room had cost an extra ten talons, but privacy had no price for him. The visage of the withered whore that invited him to enjoy the 'customs' of the local village forced in him an awful sense of revulsion. He didn't bother to mask his internal decision to pass on her over priced offer.

He wanted to be alone.

The clicking of the lock on the wooden door caused him to freeze. He waited and listened. The sun had not broken night's grip just yet. He silently slid his hand under his pillow and found the warm handle of the last dagger he had on him. 'This better be worth it...' he grudgingly thought.

'M'lord...' uttered the unpleasantly familiar voice. 'I heard your shouts...and thought perhaps...I pray I 'ave not inrupte...' He could smell the obscene fragrance she had just applied from across the room. Her voice trembled with nervous anxiousness. They must not receive too many outsiders out here he assured himself.

He remembered the one explicit request he made to the inn keeper.

'No disturbances.'

Sutra would make sure the deaf keep would hear his thoughts on the matter.

She shone the bright oil lamp into the room, casting dancing shadows against the closing door behind her.

'I swear'd sir, your cries could 'ave woken the ded.'

She must have been desperate to seek some sort of temporary salvation in the arms of a stranger, but this was the way of her craft. He pictured her as a child, sold by her alchoholic father to pay off gambling debts to a distasteful brothel owner. She must have spent many a fort night awake, plotting a way out of the bloody mess fate had dealt her. She probably didn't have faith in any god. He didn't blame her. She probably managed to run away and only got this far. To this small lost speck on a map, if it was even registered in the kingdom records. He figured she would live her life out as a bar maid, tearfully earning a small sum on the side through her natural 'talents'. She probably had just about enough saved up to pick up and leave again, possibly with a low caste merchant that would fancy her enough to take her along with him only to leave her for a younger prize further down the road.

The woman gripped the wrap tightly at her neck with her left hand and propped the lantern up with her right. She seemed somewhat malnourished but there was something alive about her. In her eyes.

'I kin cook a devilish breakfast if u're intrist'ed'

The sitting shade released his grip on the blade handle and remained motionless.

She nervously placed the lantern on the unstable night stand and stood over him. With a shiver, she dropped the wrap and stood before him skyclad. He noticed a shade of shame wash over her face, replaced quickly by courage. She looked at him with a yearning sense of acceptance.

Sutra's chest gently heaved with every breathe he took. It had been many moons since he had experienced invited companionship. Her scent still stung his senses.

The worn woman knelled silently between his knees and placed her hands on his thighs. She weakly smiled up at him and began to unlace the tight knot that held his pants up.

He reached out with both hands noticing a slight flinch in her reaction. Gently framing her frail face in his hands, Sutra tilted her profile towards him.

'Your name?'
'Does it matter m'lord?'
'I suppose not...but please...entertain me your true god given name.'

Her eyes masked a deep seeded panic. Was he a collector? A bounty hunter sent by her previous keeper to earn a reward? She wanted to think this was the man that would take her away from all of this. That he would marry her and provide her the family she endlessly dreamt of. That he would truly know her name.

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

At the utterance of one of her most beloved secrets, a weight seemed to be lifted from her spirit. She childishly covered her smile as she tried to hide her ecstatic giggle. She was not as crafted at hiding tears though. A trickle of tears streamed down her sunken cheeks.

His hand gently gripped her once elegant jaw line, smiling.

She sat back on her haunches and gazed into his eyes. A deep sigh escaped her thin lips.

'I have dreamt of this day since I was a little girl...' Her voice quivered at her eagerness to share her most intimate desires.

Sutra smiled again. He leaned forward and kissed her sweat stained forehead. Her whimper came and went like a gentle breeze. The pop was almost inaudible.

'I am not that man...' he whispered into her left ear.

His hand slid to the back of her neck and to her lower back as he gently cradled her in his arms, before placing her in the cot.

The shadow stood over the bed as he stared down at the still body.

Sutra envied her. For she would dream freely now. Something he had not yet earned the right to do just yet.

Moments later, the unattended lantern light flickered out; leaving the room in peaceful darkness.

S
[con't]

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The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu