Pale Night, Red Fields by Lee Joseph John

Author:Lee, Joseph John
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eclipseborn Publishing
Published: 2023-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

The Pale Night

Hell had already begun to break loose by the time Zarrow returned home. Bellows for retribution and justice were ringing in the early dusk air as a crowd began congregating outside the hut. Indistinct voices melded together, all manners of protest overlapping in a cacophony of anger, fear, and anguish. Just to get inside required Zarrow to nearly knock several people off their feet. The battering he suffered to his head and arms as he shoved his way through was merely a consequence he would have to ignore.

Inside the hut only dwelt further chaos. All the village’s shamans—a council of twelve—had assembled, their words an inane jumble behind their ceremonial masks, muffled just enough not to make sense over the persistent and surrounding noise. Some of the Tribespeople had managed to squeeze their way into the small confines of the hut, the central chamber near to capacity as Zarrow shouldered his way past the gathering.

If there was any mercy, it was that the sheer volume of people inside had diluted the rich smell of incense enough for it to be palatable to Zarrow’s nose and stomach.

He spotted his father off in the corner, hunched over the table, his mask lifted atop his head as he rummaged through the notes piled high, indecipherable scribblings coating each sheet in a strange canvas of diagrams, shapes, and something resembling substitutes for words. As the discussions continued to permeate the room in a pervasive din, Zarrow stepped around Tribespeople and shamans alike, brusquely grasping his father’s forearm as he finally reached him.

“Father!” he shouted, his voice only barely carrying over the din. “What’s going on? This is madness!”

Yodir knocked Zarrow’s hand away, muttering something to himself as his eyes trailed along the crisscrossing paths of his notes. He tutted his lips and flashed a sly grin toward his son, something akin to malice glowing in his eyes. “You and I have gravely different understandings of the word ‘madness,’ Zarrow.”

Zarrow quickly gestured to the crowd, spreading his right arm wide. “This! What you see before you is madness! We have to stop before—”

“Stop?” Yodir chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He held his hands out to the notes, taking in the findings almost lustfully. “Why would I stop? Why should any of us stop? I look at this before me—” He gestured to the piles of paper, the meaning behind it all still wholly lost on Zarrow. “—and see only discovery. The time is upon us, Zarrow.” He clasped a firm hand behind Zarrow’s head, pulling his son closer. “Our prayers have at last been answered.”

Despite his attempts to bob and weave out of his father’s grip, Zarrow stayed put, forced to glance at the madness in Yodir’s eyes. “You don’t mean…”

“Just so.” Yodir’s teeth flashed against the candlelight, their size intimidating as though a wolf had approached Zarrow and declared him to be prey. “The Owl has answered us. Everything we have searched for, everything we have sought…” He slapped a firm hand onto the piles of paper, sending sheets flying in every direction.

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