Edit 7/26/2015: If you've noticed in the sidebar, I have almost 70,000 words. I got a lot more cool ideas as I wrote and expect it to come out to 115-120k.
Source: Kari Christensen
Evrom raced up a grassy hill, thick metal cudgel on one shoulder, boltslinger on the other. He paused to survey upon reaching the top and frowned. The evnarals, giant rock beasts, were cresting another mound two hills over.
The clatter of clothing beside him signified that Alyozam had made it to the top as well. Evrom pointed. “It’s going to take a mighty pair of legs to catch those beasts.”
Alyozam huffed, trying to regain his breath. “Legs which you surely have, Evrom.”
“I fear they are not as fine as yours, Alyozam,” replied the winner of the footrace.
They both turned as two more men reached the top, completing their party. The oldest of them—though only forty-three—Kerbin, spoke between heaving breaths. “Brothers, these evnarals may be too swift for us.”
“Surely they are not too swift for you, Kerbin,” said the fourth member, Losheimap. The general goal of addressing other people was to prove oneself humbler than they. People often found ways to work around this by saying obviously sarcastic comments in the levelest tone possible.
The men on the hill were stoneslayers, the most impressive occupation one could hold. If it weren’t for their intrepid expeditions to hunt quarries of evnarals, their villages and cities would have no shelter. Their mission was to hunt the living rock so the masons could have dead rock to work with.
But the living rock, the evnarals, were vicious when provoked, tireless, and nigh impenetrable. Being a stoneslayer was no mean task, and the mandatory retirement age was forty-five. The others in the band of stoneslayers enjoyed reminding Kerbin of this in the humblest way possible.
Kerbin smiled. “You are a kind man, Losheimap. Though I could only hope for such success accompanied by you.”
Evrom was the youngest of the group at twenty-four, but he had been hunting the living rock since he was sixteen, the time when Hadaratzians were granted vocational freedom. Alyozam and Losheimap had both been on the hunt for nearly half their lives, being thirty-four and thirty-five respectively.
“Do you think we have strayed too far from home?” asked Evrom. He let the head of his mace fall to the ground.
“I’ve been farther,” Alyozam replied. He slung his boltslinger onto his shoulder and stroked his beard. “It was maybe eight years ago when Kreitah was still hunting the rock. We made it to the Pass of Jerr before we slew the quarry. It was a living terror carting the dead rock back to Desek.” He paused. “Recalling that return trip makes me question whether it would be worth it to pursue these evnarals any longer.”
They all looked toward Kerbin, who steeled his brow in thought. “We will follow for one day longer, then reroute toward Desek if unsuccessful to search for more quarries.”
The three younger stoneslayers nodded in agreement. “Excellent judgment,” they intoned.
The group descended the hill to their horses and carts. Evrom walked up to one of the stone and metal carts and tossed in his cudgel and boltslinger. He turned next to the attached horse and patted its side. Though he wasn’t a short man, he didn’t even come up to the creature’s shoulder. He reached up and unhitched the horse, letting it roam. Kerbin did the same for the other cart.
Losheimap and Alyozam set out in the waning light to gather some dustbush leaves for the fire. For reasons unknown yet not unwelcome, dustbush leaves burned for an inordinate amount of time compared to other plants. A fire could be kept alive for hours off a small bush.
They returned quickly and dinner was soon cooking. The conversation topic of choice was the upcoming coupling.
“It’s been far too long since I’ve coupled,” Losheimap declared, pointing at the others with his spoon.
Alyozam strained some misplaced stew out of his beard and chuckled. “And so it has. But of course you know that we all have been deprived of women for the same amount of time.”
“You are, of course, right, my friend. I was merely stating something we all could resonate with,” Losheimap replied.
“An apt judgment,” said Kerbin. “Six months is much too long between couplings. But of course it is as Gnolom wills it.”
“I firmly believe that you have control of your desires at this point, Kerbin. After over fifty couplings, have you not filled and drained your cup enough times to satisfy?” Losheimap asked with honest inquisition.
Kerbin smiled at the subtle jab at his age. “No matter how many tables you sit at, hunger will drive you to another,” he stated. “It is only a week away, my brothers. Praised be the name of Gnolom for allotting us a time to interact with his daughters!”
“Yes,” Alyozam concurred. “The older I become, the more I cherish their very presence. My desires now are different from my first hungry couplings. I despair that we are only given two days together.”
Evrom let his spoon sink in his stew and stared into the fire. “How many repeats do you usually couple with?” he asked his elders.
“Repeats?” Losheimap almost scoffed, though his humility gave no room to open mockery. “Life is too short and couplings too few to limit myself to one woman. There have been two or three couplings that I spent the entire duration with one woman though.”
Alyozam reclined and looked to the stars. “I’ve had two different repeats. I was foolish and thought I might love them, and I couldn’t stop myself. I have since tried to be more zealous for Gnolom.”
“I myself have had one repeat,” Kerbin admitted. “I was young and foolish, more so than Alyozam here. We spent three consecutive couplings together then got wiser the fourth time around.”
Evrom took their words in with a clenched jaw. The next week would mark his fourteenth coupling and, if plans held, his thirteenth repeat.
The others noticed his tension. “To be caught between two brawling evnarals is better than to be caught with a woman,” Losheimap cited from the Third Message.
“If you carry perplexities, Evrom, do not fear sharing them with us. We are your brothers, not your accusers,” Kerbin said, finishing his stew.
Evrom hesitated. “It’s just...why can we not read the Messages?”
Kerbin grabbed his waterskin and poured some into the clay dish. “The Messages are meant to only be read by the most humble. Tell me, have you ever felt a swell of pride as you ride into the city with a cart full of dead stone?”
Evrom bit his lip. “Yeah. But do you really think that the king has never had any prideswells?”
“It’s not that the king and his court have never had any prideswells, Evrom. It’s that their amount and intensity are so much lower than we could even imagine.” Kerbin waved the bowl around to remove large drops of moisture.
Evrom sighed. The king, Farauv, according to theology was the humblest person on the planet. If it weren’t so, he could not also be the only Deathslayer alive. As the ultimate test of humility and precedent to his coronation, the king underwent a special sacrificial ritual. He lay on an altar and had his throat slit. Five days later, he would rise again completely whole. In the interceding days he would be taught by Gnolom, then return to Hadaratz with a new Message for the people.
Or that was how things once were. There hadn’t been a new Message for over four hundred years. It was declared in the final Message, the twenty-fifth, that there would be no further Messages; the instructions of Gnolom were complete. It also declared that the title of Deathslayer was to become hereditary, though anyone could petition to gain the title at any time. They would simply have to pass through the sacrificial ritual themselves.
“Excuse me if I overstep my bounds, but your demeanor suggests that you might be in the power of pride even now,” Kerbin observed.
Evrom inhaled sharply and tried to purge the feeling from his insides. “Yours by twice,” he said in thanks.
To express gratitude and humility simultaneously, a certain phraseology had worked its way into the Hadaratzian vocabulary. It began as, ‘your life is greater than mine by twice,’ and eventually morphed into just ‘yours by twice’. Of course, a significant level of gratitude was expressed by ‘yours by five’, and the utmost display of humble appreciation was found in the words ‘yours by ten’.
The others had finished and were cleaning out their dishes. “Tell me, Kerbin, in your superior years of experience, have you ever arranged a tryst with one of your couplings?” Losheimap asked.
Kerbin stared into the fire without speaking for a moment. “Such a thing is difficult to manage as a stoneslayer. But as I have just declared that we are brothers and not accusers, I will share something with you. As I said, I was much more foolish than Alyozam. The same woman that I coupled with thrice, I met with her outside of any city on nine separate occasions.”
“Nine!” exclaimed Alyozam. “Gnolom knows if the Paramours have coupled so many times!”
Kerbin smiled ruefully. “Yes, we had actually discussed going to join them. To live with one another out of the king’s reach and be able to love, no holds barred. It was a tantalizing offer.”
“Well what made you change your course? I can’t think that you were caught, for you’re here with us today,” said Alyozam.
Ezrom’s heart paced more quickly as the conversation progressed. If Kerbin and his lover could pull it off, what could Ezrom and Matak accomplish?
“It was what happens to any addicted fool. I kept telling myself that I didn’t love her. I could stop meeting with her at any time. And then I heard a sermon by one of the king’s advisors. He read the part from Message Six where it says, ‘And he loved her, and was filled with pride.’ It was enough to smack me out of my stupidity and recognize that I loved her. Only then was I truly able to humble myself and break it off. I went to the next tryst we had planned and told her we couldn’t meet any more. I told her I didn’t love her. She wept, and so did I as I ran home.” Kerbin’s eyes were dotted with tears even as he told the tale.
“For Eternity’s sake, brother. Have you ever told anyone?” asked Losheimap.
Kerbin shook his head. “You three are the first. I’ve always known that it should be told to some of my stoneslayer brothers, but I never felt right about it until now.”
Ezrom fought a tempest inside. Kerbin’s story—if one tweaked the ending—sounded exactly like what he desired.
“Well I’m glad you trust us enough. Such an admission is a mark of true humility, brother,” said Alyozam.
“Yours by five for your compassion toward my iniquities.” Kerbin smiled at his friend.
“Yours by five for telling us, brother,” said Ezrom. And he meant it, if for different reasons than the other two might.
“But while I’m at it, I have one more confession.” Kerbin gazed over the dark plains toward home. “It was a lie I told her then, and it is a lie even now. I still love her.”
