Terra Moss: Scrolls of Burrwood AenaEUR(tm)Nith

By kd Brinck

In another mind, in another place, and elsewhere in time, there is the world of Terra Moss. It is inhabited by tellurians, the cat eyed kindred, who are divided into many kindreds (races) of which the predominate are the Kedi, the Qitt, the Koboldlyn, along with other minor kindreds. A world of beauty, seid (magic), numerous gods, and thousands of years of history. An era had ended; a once-proud though arrogant kindred, the Twiniarians, the white-eyed kindred (the Hvitragua), had fallen; the victors showed little to no mercy. Their cities, great and small, were plundered and razed; the inhabitants fled, tossed to the winds to be either slaughtered or enslaved. This is the tale of one of the fallen, a white-eyed miris (male) named Burrwood—the Scrolls of Burrwood Aen’Nith, Amanuensis; Book 1, Terra Moss.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891575349

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Terra Moss

Scrolls of Burrwood AenaEUR(tm)Nith

kd Brinck

Copyright © 2024 kd Brinck

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2024

ISBN 979-8-89157-486-1 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-89157-534-9 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

List of Characters

About the Author

Introduction

The oppressor will become the oppressed; hunted and scattered.

—Northern proverb

In another mind, in another place, and another time, there is the world of Terra Moss. It is inhabited by tellurians, who are divided into many kindreds (races) of which the predominant are the Kedi, the Qitt, and the Koboldlyn, along with other minor kindreds. A world of beauty, seid (magic), numerous gods, and thousands of years of history. An era had ended. A once-proud though arrogant kindred, the Twiniarians (the Hvitragua), had fallen; the victors showed little to no mercy. Their cities, great and small, were plundered and razed; the inhabitants fled, tossed to the winds to be either slaughtered or enslaved. This is the tale of one of the fallen, a white-eyed miris (male) named Burrwood.

History is a maelstrom that sweeps all before it (History of the Twin, Kud'Ur the Qitt).

Chapter 1

White-Eyed Miris

Nothing ever good comes from the north.

—Southern Kedi proverb

On the beach, curtained by steep cliffs, just below the Kedi village of Persepa, a body lay washed ashore. The previous night, a storm had deposited it up along the high tide line. The goddess of the sea, Ka'Cak, had found it an unworthy sacrifice; her sister, Vanth, the goddess of death, surprisingly also had not claimed the body of its life. That discovery caused great excitement; the body was a northerner, a young miris (adult male). His pale skin and white surrounding the iris of his hazel eyes announced that he was of the old Twiniarian race, a diminished folk. For some lifetimes, the villagers had rarely heard of any northerner, much less ever seen one. That once-proud kindred had fallen from their former greatness; they had all but vanished. History and the gods had long viewed them as a blight upon the earth; after centuries of war and endless plagues, they were said to have been exterminated, or so many believed. Thus, one can understand the villagers' shock at finding one of that kindred.

Almost immediately, the village eldars sent rinnan (runners) to the nearest cnith lords, reporting the news of finding the northerner Twiniarian. They would keep him a prisoner until one of the nobles responded. With that decided and set to the side, a more pressing matter drew the eldars' attention to the salvage. The storm had also caused an immense flotsam to be washed ashore along with the mysterious white-eyed miris. An intense debate arose as to the distribution of the shipwreck's cargo. Theirs, a coastal bustee, had the right to claim it but only if no rightful owner could be found. Was the northerner the owner of the treasures scattered across the beach? Someone recalled old rumors and whispers that some Twiniarians could still be found in the Sea of Isles and even further south, beyond the Moss Mountains. What if he was an honest vanij (merchant/trader)? His ownership to the salvage would jeopardize their claim. Wisely, the eldars ruled that they needed to learn more of the stranger; the salvage question would have to wait. A cnith (noble) would decide.

The village of Persepa nested on sheer cliffs hugging the coast a maze of rock terraces, stone-lined and twisting carved footpaths. Numerous houses built out, covering entrances to tunnels and natural caves; there they carried the northerner to the elders' council chamber. Weak and ill, he lay on the floor, barely aware, merely nodding to their endless questions. Many a villager—miris, femina, femalla, hobs, and jills—crowded around, staring and marveling at the foreigner similar to themselves and yet so different. His eyes mystified and intrigued them to the utmost, the stark white of his sclera surrounding his hazel-colored pupils so very different from their own; no wonder northerners were called the white-eyed ones. All the villagers' eyes gleamed like polished sun capturing jewels, no white whatsoever, the true mark of a Kedi. Roughly, they stripped him bare, laying him on the cold stone floor, covered by a single blanket.

They were shocked at his pale skin, no tattoos; they could not tell which clan or tribe he belonged to. There were no earrings, no torc, no rings on his fingers, no jewelry, nothing. His hair was short. He had no beard or lip hair. His hands showed no calluses, cleanly trimmed fingernails, and no signs of manual labor. His only possessions other than his garments were a belt pouch and a shoulder knapsack. The latter they opened first not to take anything for unlike the salvage of the shipwreck, the two items clearly belonged to him. They might be scavengers, but they were not thieves. The knapsack was skillfully made from sealskins. The contents were completely dry: a short knife, quills, styli, little bottles of ink, narrow rolls of parchment, a metal stamp seal, wax, and a leatherbound book, a journal. A quick perusal only added to the mystery; they could read only some of what was written. The belt pouch, however, made them gasp in amazement—a coin purse heavy with coin, gold and silver pieces; more astonishing was there were mirthal coins as well. Clearly, he was wealthy; that further aroused their curiosity.

He cried that he had not eaten for days; he needed to sleep. Mercifully, they fed their prisoner a small bowl of fish and kelp stew; the villagers were pescatarians after all. He ate very slowly, while they never stopped pestering him with questions. He answered tersely in the tongue of the sea in short sentences; he had secrets to keep. They too had their own secrets, conversing among themselves in their clan dialect then switching back to the common lingua of the sea before questioning him. Unbeknown to them, he spoke both languages; it was his seid (magic). The stranger bore a flesh wound just above his right eye as well as a rather ugly large bruise to the left side of his head. When asked about it, he repeatedly stated he had no memory of how it happened, saying the blow had affected his memory. The villagers suspected he was lying; they continued to press him.

History is a long list of consequences for a defeated, vanished kindred. Some did manage to survive—some by fleeing or, worse, becoming slaves willingly or unwillingly. Reluctantly, the miris finally confessed he was a runaway slave. He had hidden as a stowaway on a vanij vessel, the same unfortunate ship that had come to be wrecked upon their shore.

Their questioning paused; the eldars nodded their approval. Being a mere slave meant the salvage was theirs and theirs alone. Some even began to see the northerner more favorably, even feeling a bit sorry for him. They realized if he recovered his strength, he might try to flee south, seeking to find his own kindred if any still existed; he would need to be guarded. Though just as many remained doubtful that he would even live long enough for any cnith to arrive.

Persepa was a small bustee of the Iauri clans, and on the whole, they had no deep animosity toward Twiniarians unlike others. The village was the sole Iaurian mainland settlement, the near shore isles being their true realm. As with all the southern Kedi, they had a deep love of family, clan, and tribe, the center of their lives. They took great pride in being able to read and write; one could say they were obsessed. Nothing was more important than family news as well as gossip. Though the Kedi had many a learned scholar who wrote heavy tomes, long parchment rolls, or books, the commoners rather wrote missive letters. Daily rinnan would race down and up the roads or footpaths with pouches full of letters and the like. Anything happening in one bustee soon quickly spread to the surrounding hamlets, villages, and towns. By the next morning, certainly by the next fortnight, word of the northerner had spread far and wide, all along the coast and the offshore isles. Of course, many didn't believe it. A Twiniarian? That could not be true, just a tall tale. Many would chuckle. Nevertheless, as obvious as it was to the villagers, the castaway had been touched by Chemosh, the god of illness and plagues. Many of the villagers expected him to die as did Chemosh, yet his mother, the goddess Vanth, thought otherwise.

There was a Qitt at Persepa, a femina named Runa, which was rather unusual, though not unheard of. The Kedi and the Qitt generally lived apart but didn't dislike the other for the most part. Her kindred were extremely clannish, mystical with strange beliefs, tending to keep to only to themselves and their clans. The Qitt were of the far southern mountain ranges, not so much coastal lands. So for one to be living in a common Kedi village and to be honored as an eldar was different. She was the sister-in-law to the village pombe (chief), Thei'Mer. How he, the pombe, a mere miris, could have married a Qitt femina and one of high clan status in the first place was also unusual. All marriages had to have each clan's eldars' approval for it established ties between both clans, something not taken lightly. Thei'Mer's Qitt wife had died in childbirth some years back when Runa arrived to attend to her deceased sister's children, an honorable duty. Why her sister had married outside her clan and moved to the long peninsula of LoLand and to Persepa was another story and not for here.

Runa was a large femina in stature, though none dared to call her fat; ample was how she referred to herself. She had been married. Her husband, a vanij, alas, had been killed by pirates; she had never remarried. During the questioning of the miris Twiniarian, she had been unrelenting in calling for his immediate execution. She harangued her fellow eldars that he was a pirate; after all, all northerners were pirates. She could never forgive them for the loss of her beloved mate. Thei'Mer argued that they had no proof whether he was a pirate. She scoffed at that, pointing to the stranger's coin pouch; how could a slave have such wealth or such a fine writing kit? All were surely stolen; he most certainly was a pirate. Again and again, she schooled them; the law stated all pirates were to be killed. It had always been so. However, when she failed to win any support, her tactics changed, reminding them that northerners also brought the plague. Thei'Mer countered that only one miris didn't make a plague. She agreed then added the Twiniarian, nevertheless, could cause the mo'loks, the bruun-dogga, to come.

That fearful thought silenced the eldars' caveholt for the followers of the dog god, Mo'Lok, brooked no living white eyes; they killed all they found. Furthermore, anyone who offered aid and comfort to them the bruun-dogga priests and dog soldiers killed as well. Thei'Mer concurred, but mo'loks had not been seen for years—if not decades. Besides, the cniths would protect them from any roving band; he dismissed Runa's concerns.

Suddenly, before she could object, Rim'Sin, an exiled Smardusian senatus, unexpectedly entered the chamber, surrounded by his entourage and numerous guards, a proud robust miris with a commanding presence. Charmingly and politely, he greeted each of the eldars by name. He asked how he could be of service. They welcomed him, asking if he would take charge of the interrogation of the lone shipwrecked survivor for they had gotten nowhere; even after endless efforts, they still had not learned much of him. Rim'Sin readily accepted, saying he was eager for any diversion from the boredom of his exile. Actually, he was lying; he had come upon first hearing of the survivor and not just because of curiosity. No, the politics of the Senate of Smardia had not ended with his exile; they simply turned ever more complex and lethal. Rim'Sin was fated to be the first ever Emperor of Smardia, though on that day, it was an unfulfilled dream. The former senatus had been exiled for years to the ancient abandoned fortress atop LoLand Head, which towered over the coastal sea cliffs as well as the village; he called it his villa. Seldom had he ventured out from its walls, but on that day, he had. For the survivor might also be a messenger from his allies; conspiracies needed secrets, and he wanted to keep them so.

Strangely, no one had been able to get out of the stranger his name, clan, or family. He had refused to give it, saying he could not remember, blaming the blow to his head. No one believed him but had given up asking. Rim'Sin did not ask questions; he merely stated his observations, the facts before him. The knapsack and its contents he studied silently and carefully for some time without any visible emotion. Then he stated bluntly the miris was an amanuensis of the highest order, a graduate of the College of Seldor, a valuable slave to say the least. That took the villagers by surprise. How could a northerner be such a scholar of writing? They challenged him to prove it. He calmly drew their attention to the high quality of the writing kit, the embossed details on the leather of the journal all pointing to that famed school. Furthermore, the fine script had been done by a learned hand of great skill; sections were even written in more than one language. The stranger, a castaway, a stowaway, a slave, was also a well-trained scholar; that appealed to the villagers. More began to view him differently, and Eldar Runa asked if the senatus would buy the slave for himself, still hoping to rid the village of the vile Twiniarian pirate.

Rim'Sin, an amanuensis in his own right, next examined carefully the journal, reading aloud an inscription he found on the first page. Surprisingly, it gave the stranger's name, Aen'Nith, stating he was an Orgarian Scholar, high praise for any amanuensis, and that he had been a loyal slave, signed by the one who had given it to him, Farmair. An unearthly eerie silence fell on the eldars' council chamber; nobody even dared to breathe. The only sound was the faint whispers of waves washing up from the beach far below. A brave soul opened the chamber's doors a crack to do a quick glance out at the sea. Thankfully, it was empty as far as one could see, no strange ships off the shore, no pirates lurking. Farmair, the mere mention of that name struck terror—a feared, ruthless, bloodthirsty pirate. Worse, he too was a northerner. Hunted by the navies of the island city-states and the fleets of Smardia, he avoided all attempts at his demise. Never captured, never defeated, many said Ka'Cak favored and protected him. He struck without warning and disappeared quickly as the wind.

Pombe Thei'Mer, taking no chances, shouted for the werra to double the lookouts and sentries; miris and femina with their fighting staffs rushed out of the chamber's cavernous hall. Runa seized her chance; here was the proof the castaway was, in fact, a pirate. She refused to call him by his name, insisting that he be killed immediately. Another eldar, El'Ulu, the village sithcundman, disagreed, noting the miris had no blue dot tattoo on either of his hands; that was how, it was said, Farmair marked all his pirates. Aen'Nith might be a valuable slave, yet he certainly was no pirate. Their argument grew heated until Rim'Sin interceded, agreeing with the sithcundman. It made no sense to kill what could be a handsome profit for the village if he was sold to slavers. That, however, did not end the debate as to what would be the fate of Aen'Nith, the Twiniarian. Thei'Mer remained cautious; wouldn't Farmair be looking for his slave? In the past, it was said that he had burned entire villages if they caused any harm to his pirates. What would he do to them if they killed his slave? Or if they did not return the slave to him?

As the discussion continued, no one paid attention to Rim'Sin and Runa as they quietly repacked Aen'Nith's knapsack. By sleight of hand, the senatus secreted away one of the parchment rolls into his toga, while Runa slipped the journal under her dress. No one noticed or suspected anything; it was late and many wanted to return to other matters. Stealing was highly frowned upon; however, Rim'Sin could perhaps be forgiven for the roll he took. It was at least addressed to him. Not so for Runa. Furthermore, no one noticed that Aen'Nith had passed out and lay curled up tightly under a thin blanket. He trembled and shook as if trying to capture his warmth; many whispered that Chemosh had come for him. The eldars' council chamber had a firepit at its center, and several femina, taking pity on him, kindly moved him closer to the fire. He remained very still, though; being near the heat of the pit stopped him from shaking, and he seemed to breathe easier.

At the next moment, the wide wooden doors of the caveholt were flung open, admitting a cold wind with cloaked figures. Hurriedly, the doors were closed; the arrivals gathered around the firepit, warming themselves over the coals. One cloaked figure stood out, surrounded by a guard of black-robed tonsured monks. They kept everyone back from a femina, Lady Ty'Ana, the priestess from the nearby Sanctuary of Vanth. Dressed in a multicolored robe that rustled with a pleasing sound, she flung back the hood of her cape. All were immediately captured by her stunning beauty. Even Rim'Sin took a step back, seemingly caught, as was everyone, by her loveliness and noble features. The eldars all extended polite greetings; a few even kneeled before her. The villagers, on the other hand, became nervously excited. What had caused her to leave the sanctuary and come, in the night, to their humble bustee? One went to her; she did not come to them. She was a kiezen of Vanth. She smiled, acknowledging all with a mere nod. She stopped directly over Aen'Nith, studying him with her deep, rich, warm, sparkling white-less brown eyes. Her face was small, sharp, yet delicately framed by shoulder-length hair. She asked softly if the miris lying by the pit was the one found on the beach then said no more. Swiftly, she bent down, touching Aen'Nith's forehead ever so lightly. Though still asleep, he immediately flinched and gasped as if in agony, curling up his knees tightly to his chest. She abruptly pulled back. Rising, her face flushed. Then yanking up her cowl, she muttered something under her breath; no one dared to speak. After a long moment, she answered the question on everyone's lips: Yes, the northerner would live; Vanth had not claimed him. She mentioned nothing of a sound only she had heard when she felt him; it was the music of the gods.

Ty'Ana withdrew into herself, puzzled and concerned as to why her mistress Lady Vanth had summoned her Persepa to judge a mere miris. It was custom for her to judge at the sanctuary, most unusual for her to leave to judge. Doubt often becomes fearful thoughts. Had she displeased her mistress in some way? Was this a punishment for some unknown indiscretion? Numen could be very petty over even the slightest transgression. Her worry grew even more unnerving when she had attempted second sight, only to find him blocked by a spell of protection. Undeterred, she attempted to go around the blockage. Alas, not entirely successful, much of him remained unseen. In spite of that, she did manage to glimpse some of who he truly was that she kept to herself; she did share aloud, however, that he had another name, Burrwood. She shook him awake by repeatedly calling him by his name as she glared down at him. Telling him not be insolent by pretending to be asleep, she demanded to know which of his names was his clan name, Aen'Nith or Burrwood. He rubbed his eyes, confused, muttering Burrwood was what his friends called him; he had no clan name. Aen'Nith had been given to him by his teachers. Thei'Mer moved to comfort him and asked who had given him the name Burrwood, his parents or Farmair?

Neither, replied Aen'Nith; he had no parents that he could remember. It was Farmair's own personal Qitt guards that had given him that name, tired of calling him just slave.

Suddenly, Rim'Sin pulled the pombe back, asking him if he had not heard the northerner speech. Of course, he had. Thei'Mer then placed another blanket on the stranger, only to have both Rim'Sin and El'Ulu tug at him, asking again if he had not heard what Aen'Nith Burrwood was saying.

At the mention of Qitt guards, everyone's attention turned to see Runa's reaction. Her face was emotionless; inwardly, her heart pounded. That couldn't be true. Why would her kindred be protecting a pirate, the very ones who had killed her husband? She refused to accept it. Thei'Mer waved off Rim'Sin and El'Ulu, who were whispering to him; instead, he asked how many Qitt guards Farmair had.

Aen'Nith thought for a moment before stating there were forty, always forty; they had kept their clan and families secret, but they had been always friendly to him. Then with his knees to his chest, he began to rock back and forth, muttering he was thirsty, and asked for water. Once more, Rim'Sin and El'Ulu were tugging at Thei'Mer, imploring him to listen. The chamber had grown silent, seemingly waiting for him; he grew annoyed and demanded to know what was wrong with everyone. Lady Ty'Ana interceded, whispering he should listen carefully to what the northerner was saying. He ignored her, calling for water to be given to the miris, whom he then motioned to move nearer to the fire. Aen'Nith thanked him; it was then the pombe drew back in shock. The Twiniarian had been speaking in the native Iaurian dialect; he had spoken as a native. All the time, it had escaped the pombe but not the gathered villagers. Thei'Mer demanded that he explain how that was possible; he received no answer for Aen'Nith then shook violently in a fit of shaking chills and fell unconscious.

Runa claimed he was no doubt touched by Chemosh; he would likely be dead come a day or two. Lady Ty'Ana shook her head; she did not see his death. Chemosh, no doubt, had made him ill, yet he would not go against his mother's wishes; the miris would live. She then ordered that once he regained his health, he was to be brought to the sanctuary; there she would rejudge him. With that, she left with her entourage back to the Temple of Vanth. The exiled senatus Rim'Sin also departed, returning to his villa to read the secretly taken missive and ponder new conspiracies. The northerner Burwood or Aen'Nith—the villagers were not sure by which name to call him—was carried to a small storage room off the side of the council hall and laid on a simple cot. Little to no more thought was given to the white-eyed northerner miris.

So who was this northerner, Burrwood or Aen'Nith? What life path had brought him to Persepa, happenstance or plan? Perhaps a little of both. Often, one goes through life being directed by fate, not entirely within one's control and/or being shaped by others. In the world of gods, numen, there was seid in much of the inhabitants of Terra Moss, a blessing or a curse, perhaps both at the same time. Seid was real; aspects of it were hidden all around in what was called talent, skill, knowledge, ability, wisdom, etc. True, pure seid was also found in things to various degrees, but an inanimate object could only possess seid for as long as it maintained an interaction with a living being.

Burrwood had no physical talisman, but from birth, he had had seid, though at first, he didn't know it or