The End of the Beginning - Formerly Persia, early 1900s
In a strange meeting of fact and fiction, it just so happens that my characters will be on their way to Tehran very soon. ...and it will be in upheaval.
Also, this next set of bits is missing lots of literary connective tissue. Bear with me. (Even more than my last post).
~~~
Around the caravanserai, the wall of sand rose up, casting a shadow over man and building alike. For her part, Lorena now clung to the rope ladder hanging from her ship. The moorings had been loosened, and the airship rose over the building not terribly far...
Below her, the caravanserai had descended into chaos, people and animals screaming in the panic, all of them in search of shelter. And finding it within the walls of the well-made building.
Yet, Lorena feared for them, even more than she feared for herself...and the fear was warranted, for the wall of sand rising on every side crashed down onto the building, filling the courtyard and burying the structure and people within.
She coughed wildly, sand working through and around her veil, pelting her as it sprung up from below like sharp-edged sea spray.
And then the airship floated higher yet, its mooring destroyed by the torrent of golden tide. Her mind dizzy with shock, Lorena first assumed that the ropes had simply parted, pulverized by the sand. Then a figure climbed higher yet on the bow rope, obscured by the dust that swarmed the air.
Well, at least one other had escaped; Lorena's eyes closed involuntarily, trying to rid themselves of invading grains, and as the stranger pulled up the ladder, she gasped, bringing on yet another coughing fit...
~~~~
Heavier than she appeared, was his first thought as he tugged the rope ladder aboard.
His second, as he helped her climb over the railing, was that, undoubtedly, he was also caked with sand; the woman's black robes and veil were greyed with it.
"You're well?" He inquired in the ghastly silence.
Lorena knew the "stranger" as soon as he spoke; the winged man she'd seen days ago. Throat dry, she nodded in reply.
"That's well, then." And with a clack of...hooves? He'd hooves? Lorena wiped the grit from her eyes, layers of it, finally peeling one eye open to stare at the hooves and tail just peeking out from the bottom of his robe.
"You've got hooves." Lorena croaked, opening her other eye as he turned. And the strangest expression filled his face, somewhere between a wry smile and... not amazement but...
"Yes. Did you not see them before? You seemed close enough." Grim resignation lent his sarcastic reply a sad quality.
"No..." And she would've said more but for a coughing fit; she spat out the grit-filled ball of mucus onto the deck. Extremely lady-like, she thought. He stood before her calmly, waiting, the dust settling around him like a cloak.
Moments passed, and as an afterthought, he handed her the half-full canteen that hung next to the steering wheel, letting her wet her mouth and clear her throat.
For a space, Lorena attempted to wrap her brain around the deaths of all those people she'd known...but couldn't.
And he didn't seem to care at all...
"You'll need to pilot your ship. I'm afraid we did not invent these when last I woke." The winged man held a hand out to her. She didn't take it.
Instead she rose on her own with a brief nod, "...we'll have to go north. Tehran is closest...and I...there are no supplies."
"Then Tehran is best." Surreptitiously, he helped her to the wheel then stood at the stern railing as she slowly readied the vessel for the flight north, taking care not to look below...
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Also, this next set of bits is missing lots of literary connective tissue. Bear with me. (Even more than my last post).
~~~
Around the caravanserai, the wall of sand rose up, casting a shadow over man and building alike. For her part, Lorena now clung to the rope ladder hanging from her ship. The moorings had been loosened, and the airship rose over the building not terribly far...
Below her, the caravanserai had descended into chaos, people and animals screaming in the panic, all of them in search of shelter. And finding it within the walls of the well-made building.
Yet, Lorena feared for them, even more than she feared for herself...and the fear was warranted, for the wall of sand rising on every side crashed down onto the building, filling the courtyard and burying the structure and people within.
She coughed wildly, sand working through and around her veil, pelting her as it sprung up from below like sharp-edged sea spray.
And then the airship floated higher yet, its mooring destroyed by the torrent of golden tide. Her mind dizzy with shock, Lorena first assumed that the ropes had simply parted, pulverized by the sand. Then a figure climbed higher yet on the bow rope, obscured by the dust that swarmed the air.
Well, at least one other had escaped; Lorena's eyes closed involuntarily, trying to rid themselves of invading grains, and as the stranger pulled up the ladder, she gasped, bringing on yet another coughing fit...
~~~~
Heavier than she appeared, was his first thought as he tugged the rope ladder aboard.
His second, as he helped her climb over the railing, was that, undoubtedly, he was also caked with sand; the woman's black robes and veil were greyed with it.
"You're well?" He inquired in the ghastly silence.
Lorena knew the "stranger" as soon as he spoke; the winged man she'd seen days ago. Throat dry, she nodded in reply.
"That's well, then." And with a clack of...hooves? He'd hooves? Lorena wiped the grit from her eyes, layers of it, finally peeling one eye open to stare at the hooves and tail just peeking out from the bottom of his robe.
"You've got hooves." Lorena croaked, opening her other eye as he turned. And the strangest expression filled his face, somewhere between a wry smile and... not amazement but...
"Yes. Did you not see them before? You seemed close enough." Grim resignation lent his sarcastic reply a sad quality.
"No..." And she would've said more but for a coughing fit; she spat out the grit-filled ball of mucus onto the deck. Extremely lady-like, she thought. He stood before her calmly, waiting, the dust settling around him like a cloak.
Moments passed, and as an afterthought, he handed her the half-full canteen that hung next to the steering wheel, letting her wet her mouth and clear her throat.
For a space, Lorena attempted to wrap her brain around the deaths of all those people she'd known...but couldn't.
And he didn't seem to care at all...
"You'll need to pilot your ship. I'm afraid we did not invent these when last I woke." The winged man held a hand out to her. She didn't take it.
Instead she rose on her own with a brief nod, "...we'll have to go north. Tehran is closest...and I...there are no supplies."
"Then Tehran is best." Surreptitiously, he helped her to the wheel then stood at the stern railing as she slowly readied the vessel for the flight north, taking care not to look below...
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8