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Description
Berach Age 5
Late Summer, Year 741 of the New Age
Oakfern, Banks for the River Swan

The late summer night was warm, and the caves nearer the surface were clammy and stifling with all the moisture turned to vapour by the heat. He’d been stood vigil on guard duty for hours, watching the cool water of one of the River Swan’s many tributaries flow mockingly by the cave entrance. The young stag sighed, shifting his weight impatiently. He really needed a drink, but you weren’t supposed to leave your post during your shift.

Glancing round, he knew he was alone. Nobody would know if he just slipped out of the cave for a drink, right? His father, General Iskanisk, would not be back until well after moonset. Nobody would see him dip out into the moonlight. He didn’t even have his glowing paint on so he could be less conspicuous on duty. He’d be unseen. A quick little drink wouldn’t matter.

The thrill of rebellion sparked in the young stag’s chest as he skipped down the rocky cave entrance, skidding and jumping over shale and pebbles until he splashed into the shallow river bed below. Snorting and tossing his head, he dipped his head to drink. The weight of his first set of antlers was still strange to him, the two forked velveteen prongs swooped back like his father’s, though of course they were much shorter on the young stag. He was proud none-the-less.

The water was as cool and refreshing as he hoped it would be, and he slurped it up greedily while Gealach’s great glowing eye watched on from the horizon. The entire world basked in His light, the stars above trying in vain to mimic Him. Berach dipped his head in reverence to the god, thanking Him for His light and guidance.

The water around his feet was the only sound, and for a moment it sounded like a whispering voice. Ears flicking in curiosity, he glanced to the god in the sky and then to the water at his feet. His mother had been trying to convince him to train his magic as well as his combat skills, and he had been disturbingly lax in his efforts to appease her. Berach took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes and attuning his senses to the water, the way he had been taught.

The water continued to trickle around his feet, tugging at the light feathers around his ankles. Nothing changed. Gritting his teeth, he stamped a hoof impatiently and forced his mind to concentrate. The moonlight on his back was cool and comforting, and though the whisper from the water said no words, he knew it wanted him to listen. Quelling his impertinence, he mentally apologised to Gealach and refocused his efforts. He listened to the whispers, his ears twisting hither and dither to catch the sweet soothing song.

He smiled, and opened his eyes. The water around his feet was dancing, skirting around his forehooves and showing the stream bed beneath. He watched it for a moment, entranced. He was doing that!

He managed to keep it up until an owl hooted overhead. His concentration faltered, and the water closed in around his feet and returned on its usual course. The owl settled in the tree overhanging the water above him and ruffled its feathers, peering down at him in that disapproving way that owls had.

Berach huffed, “Fine, fine,” He splashed through the stream and climbed nimbly back up to his perch just inside the cave entrance. The owl gave a hoot of approval and took off silently into the night. The young stag sighed and resumed his vigil, but the song of the water would not leave his mind.

[613 words]

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Description
Berach Age 5
Late Summer, Year 741 of the New Age
Oakfern, Banks for the River Swan

The late summer night was warm, and the caves nearer the surface were clammy and stifling with all the moisture turned to vapour by the heat. He’d been stood vigil on guard duty for hours, watching the cool water of one of the River Swan’s many tributaries flow mockingly by the cave entrance. The young stag sighed, shifting his weight impatiently. He really needed a drink, but you weren’t supposed to leave your post during your shift.

Glancing round, he knew he was alone. Nobody would know if he just slipped out of the cave for a drink, right? His father, General Iskanisk, would not be back until well after moonset. Nobody would see him dip out into the moonlight. He didn’t even have his glowing paint on so he could be less conspicuous on duty. He’d be unseen. A quick little drink wouldn’t matter.

The thrill of rebellion sparked in the young stag’s chest as he skipped down the rocky cave entrance, skidding and jumping over shale and pebbles until he splashed into the shallow river bed below. Snorting and tossing his head, he dipped his head to drink. The weight of his first set of antlers was still strange to him, the two forked velveteen prongs swooped back like his father’s, though of course they were much shorter on the young stag. He was proud none-the-less.

The water was as cool and refreshing as he hoped it would be, and he slurped it up greedily while Gealach’s great glowing eye watched on from the horizon. The entire world basked in His light, the stars above trying in vain to mimic Him. Berach dipped his head in reverence to the god, thanking Him for His light and guidance.

The water around his feet was the only sound, and for a moment it sounded like a whispering voice. Ears flicking in curiosity, he glanced to the god in the sky and then to the water at his feet. His mother had been trying to convince him to train his magic as well as his combat skills, and he had been disturbingly lax in his efforts to appease her. Berach took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes and attuning his senses to the water, the way he had been taught.

The water continued to trickle around his feet, tugging at the light feathers around his ankles. Nothing changed. Gritting his teeth, he stamped a hoof impatiently and forced his mind to concentrate. The moonlight on his back was cool and comforting, and though the whisper from the water said no words, he knew it wanted him to listen. Quelling his impertinence, he mentally apologised to Gealach and refocused his efforts. He listened to the whispers, his ears twisting hither and dither to catch the sweet soothing song.

He smiled, and opened his eyes. The water around his feet was dancing, skirting around his forehooves and showing the stream bed beneath. He watched it for a moment, entranced. He was doing that!

He managed to keep it up until an owl hooted overhead. His concentration faltered, and the water closed in around his feet and returned on its usual course. The owl settled in the tree overhanging the water above him and ruffled its feathers, peering down at him in that disapproving way that owls had.

Berach huffed, “Fine, fine,” He splashed through the stream and climbed nimbly back up to his perch just inside the cave entrance. The owl gave a hoot of approval and took off silently into the night. The young stag sighed and resumed his vigil, but the song of the water would not leave his mind.

[613 words]

next >