What is the scariest thing that has ever happened to you?
He's on Ridenow lands, their home. His father's out with Varzil's older
brother, Harald. At eight, Varzil isn't quite ready for a horse of his own. Harald's
promised to take him riding when they come back from their tour of the estate.
Everyone in the Domain is busy with the harvest. It's late summer, a hot day
that's not half done. His mother bakes fresh bread and cakes for the workers who
spend the day from before sunup to darkness in the fields.
He's watching the sky, idly, cloud-dreaming, and notes something out of the
corner. Smoke, drifting up, heavy and black.
Then he hears the sound of [voices], difficult to distinguish but urgent. The
house leronis, and his mother's and uncle Isvan's among them. Images.
A stand of wood that's kindled and burns. The fire spreading through dry forest
untouched by rain for weeks, eating everything in its path, bright and deadly.
"Varzil, come inside. Now!" His older sister, Jeroena, runs over and catches
his arm. "Mother and the guardsmen have to go help. Everyone's turning out.
She can't be worrying about you."
Varzil lets himself be led inside. He can see what's happening, as the blaze
spreads. Tastes and smells smoke, and then feels the blistering heat on his
skin, filtered through people's minds as they struggle to halt the fire's
advance, or simply bolt, seeking shelter.
Pain.
Fear. Helplessness.
Even the most powerful Keeper or laranzu'in haven't the ability to tell
the Gods, or the land, "no" in such times. All anyone can do is survive.
Such things strike without warning, pity, mercy.
He cringes, slamming up his rough shields, as a voice screams in pain, fire
catching clothing and hair, and then--
emptiness. Silence.
Ashes.
Helpless, and alone, into the dark.
Muse: Varzil Ridenow
Fandom: The Chronicles of Darkover