In The Works

Mountain Aeye

An Original Work

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Summary

Still working on a solid summary. Stay tuned.

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As I'm sure the name gives away, this is a second book, a companion story, to my already in progress story Storm Aeye. Ultimately, I'm hoping to get a whole series going. :)

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Opening Excerpt

There was no wind; at least, no real wind. Artificial wind did not sing the way real wind does, in lilting, wandering, wonderful melodies that soared and dipped with the creatures that rode it. The wind here did not. It whispered, but it did not sing. She did not know of a place where the wind did not sing. She did not know where here was. She did not even know who she was.

She was a void. A body without anything inside. She felt so empty, so empty it was painful. There, pain. That was something at least. So was the sense of loss. There had been something there, once.

But what had been lost? Her memories? Well, she faintly recalled pain and hurt, darkness and loss. She didn't lament the memories those shadows belonged to. She lamented the loss of something else; only she didn't know what.

So she opened her eyes.

It was a strange sort of brightness she opened her eyes to; not blinding or piercing or overwhelming, but gentle, even muted, if that could be said. A clear, vivid brightness. A warm brightness.

It was a simple space she was in. The bed she was laying in was comfortable, but not too soft, and the coverlet that was draped over her was plain, un-dyed linen. In front of her was an unadorned stone floor, and beyond that, a balcony. No, not a balcony, not quite.

Lifting her head, more of the room came into view, and she saw that what she had thought to be an egress onto a balcony was really one of several such portals. It was then that she realized, with a shade of surprise, that the entire chamber was open to the outside, and it was the wind brushing past and through those elegant stone arches and robust columns that had woken her.

She needed to get to it, to feel it on her skin. The compulsion was upon her in a heartbeat, and it was relentless. The strange wind, the one that didn't sing, may be calling to her in a strange tongue, but it was calling, and she was desperate to answer it.

Something was wrong with her body. It wasn't moving the way she wished. Even with the blank slate that was her memories, she knew such a motion should be easy. Sit up. Stand up. Walk to the columned portal. Easy. But it wasn't. She tried to push herself up from where she lay on her side, but her limbs just wouldn't obey. She got halfway up, her weight on her elbow. Already she was tired. It felt wrong. A part of her wanted to cry in that moment. Where had her strength gone? But she couldn't afford the distraction, and swallowed the sob that came to her throat. She was so tired already, and she had barely moved from where she had lain mere moments earlier.

With a gasping breath, she took hold of the bedclothes, ignoring the pain that suddenly shot up her arm, and tried to lever herself forward and up. All it earned her was the throbbing ache that had woken in her wrist. She hesitated for a moment to glance down at the offending limb. Thick white bandages wound around her left arm from knuckles to nearly to her elbow. Pursing her lips she pointedly began to ignore the ache. She would worry about that later.

After a few exhausting minutes, she had wrestled her body into a seated position, waking myriad aches all over. For an instant she wondered at what had happened to land her in this place, weak and injured to the point where she could barely move. More of the thick bandages wound across her torso and enclosed her right shoulder. As she moved, wafts of pungent scents escaped the bindings. But, like with her wrist, it was all a distraction.

By now, she was all but drenched with sweat from her exertions, strands of hair clinging to her cheeks and the thin grey shift sticking hotly to her skin. She didn't mind, though; there was the promise of the breeze ahead of her. Feeling the wind was all the reward she could dream of in that instant.

Swinging her legs off the side of the bed was less effort than she had anticipated, though. Her feet crashed onto the stone, jolting her and bringing a grimace to her lips. Thankfully, after a moment the flare of pain wore off, and she felt the cool touch of the stone floor on the soles of her feet. It was soothing, but still not enough. Gritting her teeth, she prepared for the final hurdle to leaving the now rumpled bed: standing.

It took her four tries, the third almost landing her on the floor when one of her traitorous aching knees gave way under her shifting weight. She made it though.

And then she tried to walk. That, like her first attempts at standing, was not so successful. She had to brace herself on the frame of the bed at first, reaching out and clinging to the smooth post while she regained a measure of strength.

For the first time since waking, she could see the full expanse of the room around her. The distance from the bed to the columns was not so great as she had first thought. It was an almost wedge-shaped room, with two longer walls that sprang from a simple door at the smallest end to meet the elegantly columned and balconied expanse on the opposite end. The bed, where she now stood, was far closer to the columns than it was to the door, and had obviously been moved and angled so she would be near the portals, so the light could shine on her face. Scuffs and drag marks on the stone floor indicated that the bed was usually positioned not too far away, but with the foot normally facing the columns. It was a sparsely decorated room, with simple, functional pieces arranged against and inset into the smooth stone walls. The walls themselves served as the decoration in the chamber, with delicate inlaid patterns and designs in contrasting and coloured stone dancing all the way from floor to high ceiling. There was nothing small, damp or cramped about it. It was bright, airy and—somehow—homey. She felt at home here, she realized.

Then a gust of the whispering wind recaptured her attention.

She still had a mission. She could explore the room later. Now, she needed to get outside. She needed to get to the wind.

The first step was the hardest, but as compared to her first waking moments, movement was getting easier. It was as though her body was remembering how to control itself. As she took one step, then a second and a third, it got easier. Her strength was still waning quickly, but her balance swiftly returned as she padded softly across the cool stone into the light, the quiet rustle of her tentative progress the only sound beside the wind's whispering. Upon reaching the nearest arched column, she realized it was the first of two. There was still another, smaller space to cross to reach the thicker, more robust columns that stood gleaming in the lights.

With a final lurch, her hands reached the outer column, the stone warmed by the light. Was it sunlight? She wasn't quite sure. That was the first memory that came back to her, after the wind, of course. But then, knowing the wind felt like more of an instinct than a memory. Smiling as the sunlight played across her skin; that was a memory. A very simple one, but still. While that was a memory, knowing the light that now bathed her fingers was not quite sun felt more like instinct. But it was still warm, and in that moment she realized she was cold. With a heady sense of anticipation, she took the final step into the light.