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A/N: Please see the notes included at the end of this work for information about its construction.
‘Time’ is a catch-all noun that can define past, present, future, a brief moment or an entire era. It can be unspecified… it can even be eternity. To a small village in my story, ‘time’ is so important that they have different words for it depending on whether it was, is, or will be. Writing from a civilisation that only has this single word, this is even a difficult concept for me, especially as it is an abstract concept. If you want to challenge my use of certain words in these areas, please do, as long as you provide reasons as well so I can see sense. Other than that, please enjoy.
Sincerely,
Amilyi Marraan.
Tathlow Xzant (1209GDe).
The Time-Stone Clock: The Song Between the Mountains.
I was smoking in the drawing room in The Merchant’s Rest; the smoke coiled about in front of my head and disappeared up amongst the old wooden beams. The fire spat and stretched and contorted the shadows. Some of the ash fell onto my green tweed waistcoat, but I had little care for my appearance at the end of the day when few would see me. I was contented; another Yggtharidsil was silently approaching without incident, and that was the way that I expected it to pass. The knock at the door, however, signalled that it was not to be.
“Come in,” I called, surprised to see the face of Xaesthe enter. She did not look well, but a woman of her age at this rivruka of the year rarely does. I knew instantly that there was something wrong: no one sane ever left their house on the first night of Yggtharidsil – it invited too much trouble.
“It’s the Darivrathru-Stone Clock,” she said, her eyes wide with worry. “It’s broken.” Darivrathru-Stone Clock. Broken. Those words were the only ones that she needed to have spoken. They sent a bolt straight through my brain that had me on my feet and out through the tavern’s door before I even knew what I was doing.
“Come with me,” I told her. “And explain what’s wrong on the way.”
I could see the Clock-master’s apprentices standing between the wind-throned flutes beside the village’s sacred symbol. They had opened the door to the clock’s inner workings already. The wooden door was splintered with a gaping hole in the centre and what I knew was gheist’s blood coated the edges. Their tools were laid out on the paving stones beside their feet, the crumbled cogs propped against the side of the clock tower. To my left, I noticed the corpse of the gheist that had somehow found its way into the village, ripped open the Darivrathru-Stone Clock’s door and touched the inner workings. Such vehemence in such a simple gesture as a touch – I shivered to think about the sacrifice this creature had made to destroy our protection. Yet I could not comprehend how such a lowly creature had managed to come so far… they weren’t becoming smarter, were they? And where was Kaphathe, the Clock-master? He should have been keeping a watch on his novices.
“Where is your master, Joshuin? Widdolner?” Widdolner - the younger boy – was sat cross-legged on the ground, cleaning the tools. And unsurprisingly for one of such quick wit, he was the first to respond.
“Master Kapathe has returned to the workshop, sir.” He passed the cleaned tool to his brother, the elder by a year. “He is checking to see whether he has a spare cog… but I think it is doubtful, sir.” Despite the lack of working parts, the clock ticked the passing of another minute. It made me uneasy – such a sound marked the passing of cursed rivruka.
“What should we do, Tresko? What’s going to happen?” Xaesthe had lived longer than me and she had never seen such an incident.
“…If we do not have the clock working in fhathru to mark the break of Yggtharidsil, the gheists will come down from the hills and the mountains.” I had never seen such an event take place in dana and had no intention of seeing one become. I only hesitated momentarily, my fingers running over the usually bright blue veins of the Darivrathru-Stone cogs. “We need to make preparations immediately – we cannot count on Kaphathe to have the spare parts.” I even had to consider evacuation.
“If we leave, what will remain when we return?” Xaesthe had a habit of being able to read my mind. Her gaze was fixated on the clock-face, when I wished she had noticed the fear that she had instilled into the children.
“We have no need to worry about that right now – one step at a rivru, if you don’t mind.”
The breeze picked up and as always, the wind-throned flutes hung silently, awaiting the certain sound that would bring them to life. Their dark and pointed features reminded me of the nimble and bony fingers of gheist hands… it took me back to memories that I did not wish to remember, nor would inflict upon anyone else. I was started from these unpleasant, nearly unshakeable reminiscences by the sound of padded footing. Only one man in the village walked with such a pace; Kapathe.
“Where is Mayor Tresko?” He quiet voice was as urgent as Xaesthe’s had been in the drawing room.
“I am here, Kapathe,” I called from the other side of the clock. The tall Clock-master made his way toward me, wiping sweat from his neck with a handkerchief despite the autumn cold. I already knew what his answer would be.
“We don’t have the right size – I have everything else but what we need! I’m sorry, Tresko. I’m really, really-”
“Go take the boys back to their families and make preparations to leave,” I interrupted. It was essential now that we did not waste any rivruka. The Clock-master, three heads taller than myself – and I was by no means a short man – stumbled away and picked up the boys.
“Widdolner, Joshuin, come with me.” He began to urgently drag the boys toward their respective homes, carefully minding not to get to close to the gheist corpse. “There’s nothing else we can-”
Kapathe was staring at the horizon when his voice abruptly ended. All five of us directed our eyes to the distant road in front of the village and followed it up through the winding bends until we saw what it was that had caused the Clock-master so much surprise: a vehicle was approaching. A vehicle was approaching along the stone-ridge tracks, from between the mountains – something that had happened only several years ago. “Tresko! Tresko! That Steam-Stone carriage – I can definitely use parts from it! They may have what we need!”
“Are you absolutely sure?” Xaesthe managed to word the question before I could.
“Not until I see the vehicle, but there should be something in there that I can manipulate. I’ll make sure to give plenty of warning if I cannot finish the Darivrathru-Stone Clock in fhathru.” I nodded; it would be easier to take parts than make preparations. “Right! Boys! Boys! Go get your father; we’ll he having use for a mechanic. And please be quick!” Kapathe’s apprentices ran off home obediently. Very few people passed through our village. When they did, they were usually troublemakers trying to avoid the busier routes where authorities were more likely to catch them. There were small, interconnected hamlets within a mile of here, but the next nearest town that would be considered ‘civilisation’ was two-hundred miles away, once more over the mountains. By taking their vehicle apart, I would be keeping them in our midst for at least a whole month.
“I’ll go get The Merchant’s Rest prepared,” Xaesthe told me as the walked back to the inn. “But I hope they aren’t of the same disposition as out last guests.” Murderers. Yet, watching the newcomers approach in their carriage, I knew that whatever they were, the Darivrathru-Stone Clock was worth more.
