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Chapter One

Tears of morning dew trickled down the marking stone on to the smouldering lime-covered grave.

Jamal was dead.

The heat of the smoking quicklime prevented his bones from freezing in the cold earth. Four days of mourning had passed since the Veiled Ones leader had died. The grieving clan congregated for the final time, to remember the man who had led them from the wilderness to a new home at Fox Covert.

Bardo was not present at his father’s funeral. Jamal had told his son of his true ancestry - the Veiled Ones were merely a clandestine disguise for the detestable Copotik people. Bardo was not certain that his father had told him the truth, or that evil existed. However, he was certain that if he were descended from that despicable race, then he would follow his father’s instruction and journey to the secret lair of the vile Copotik.

Afraid, he hurriedly packed a few items into his backpack before he skulked out of the wooden caravan

Bardo and Jamal had called home, and secretly left Fox Covert. At the edge of the village, he heard the shrieking that could only mean his estranged father, Jamal, was finally at rest.

The squealing of the mourners mingled with the dusk chorus of roosting forest birds, and disguised his footsteps as he made good his escape. Bardo had timed his departure well.

Journeying alone over the geologically, thermally dynamic countryside of Sivilis, Bardo pulled taut his silk garb against the chilly night air. His thoughts grew as dejected as the lamentation he had left behind.

The young man travelled only at night in order not to damage his sensitive eyes in the sunlight. He traipsed over majestic hills where once pristine forest grew, and babbling streams flowed - long since silenced by the clogging grey ash that enveloped the ground.

Hunger gnawed at Bardo. In the dim light cast by the dual magenta moons, he looked for wildlife. He found none, save a few feeble wildflowers trying to grow among the scorched tree stumps, which rose from the ground like fallen tombstones in an abandoned cemetery.


For the first time, the Veiled One saw the active volcano that humans call Mount Sura. At sunrise, blue fog shrouded the mountain and with it came the insidious stench that Bardo would never forget. Luckily, the reeking mixture of wet dog and rotten garlic quickly deadened his sense of smell. His vision was another matter. The blue vapour singed his eyes and burned his throat as Bardo searched for the cave. The cave that had to be there; his father had assured him of its existence.

Despite his gauze veil, the sun assaulted his eyes until the light and the persistent acidic mist effectively blinded him. On his hands and knees, he crawled, until, with persistence and a little fortune, he found the opening of the cavern. According to his father, this was the entrance to the lair of the Copotik people.

Fox Covert with its blue, sun-touched forest was far behind him as he crouched within the mouth of the cave and waited until nightfall.

Intermittently lightning flashed, brightening the rocky landscape. Rain ricocheted off the floor against his sodden clothing. Slowly Bardo removed the facial screen disclosing his ebony face and distinctive ruby

eyes. His features were classic for his race, fine chiselled nose and chin, and refined lips within an oval face. The broken nose and the scar above his left eye, the results of hunting accidents, were his most noticeable distinguishing marks.

Despite the pain in his calf muscles, Bardo remained squat, eyes scanning the terrain, searching for any sign that others dogged his footsteps. His field-craft skills, finely honed over many years hunting in Fox Forest, had made him aware that a human shape is distinctly identifiable. In nature, nothing resembled the human torso and most objects did not have rounded surfaces like manufactured items.

No matter how hard he tried, Bardo could not forgive his father. Why had the old man waited until his deathbed before he finally called him his son? That final word echoed in Bardo’s mind like a smith pounding on an anvil. Jamal’s dying rasping voice, hammered out the only kind words he had spoken to his son. The young man now treasured that final remorseful confession, but the memory continued to fill him with anger.

On learning the truth, everything had altered for Bardo. The base of his existence; the rock on which

his being had been formed; had always been his faith in the Veiled Clan. A few days ago, he had been a careless young man. He had grown up rapidly, now he was an orphan and the bearer of an awful secret. That wisdom and his promise to the dying chieftain had required him to journey to the Holy Mountain to discover his identity.

Bardo did not want to believe the secret. It was uncomfortable, and it violated his philosophy. In a single, crushing moment, his father had shattered his world. As he sat inside the cave, he admitted that it was the truth; his clan were descended from the vile Copotik people. His eyes progressively adjusted to the murkiness of the cave just as easily as his mind had attuned to the knowledge of his people’s past. Unsteadily gaining his feet, placing the backpack over his shoulder, he walked into the cave, his footsteps taking him into an unknown world, a world possibly less dependable, and infinitely less secure.

Banished by his actions from the only place he had known, unsure of his final destination, and with his whole concept of his identity destroyed, Bardo found himself committed to a strange pilgrimage. He had no idea what he expected to find in this barren wasteland. The only certainty that he held was the single grim

fact he clung to: somewhere in the world was a lost tribe of his people, he would find them, and finally he would have a family. There was comfort in that thought, which helped him walk with determination into the caliginous, damp cavern.

With growing confidence the Veiled One walked through natural passageways until coming to a slender crevice in the rock, turning sideways, he forced one leg through the gap then his shoulder and eventually the rest of his body followed. It was a tight squeeze even for his tall tractable frame. The crack offered some protection since Bardo knew the broad humans would not be able to climb through such a slight gap.

He carefully shimmied along a shelf scarcely wide enough for his feet, his back scraping along the rough wall, the palms of his hands gripping the far face. Slowly shuffling sideways, Bardo moved arms and legs in tandem conscious the cleft below was large enough for an individual to fall into the chasm beneath, a fall from which none would ever escape.

Sweating and breathing heavily with the exertion, driving on until coming to a larger projection. Stopping and pausing for a while to gain his composure


Bardo reached up and found a tiny tunnel barely wider than his shoulders.

Carefully hauling himself up, he slid his backpack, then his arms into the tube before crawling into the tunnel. He propelled himself along the shaft by pulling with his hands and pushing with toes as best, he could. Several times, his buttocks became jammed; by breathing slowly and relaxing his body, he managed to free himself. Finally, Bardo reached the end of the tunnel and touched the cold rock face. He remembered his father’s instructions should the humans discover him, he was to remain in the shaft regardless of the consequences - until his death if necessary. He could not allow anyone to know the-once proud Copotik people still survived.

The end of the crawl space caused alarm for Bardo as he searched in vain for an exit. His body tensed as he realised he could move neither forward nor retreat. Panic tightened his muscles that were only relieved by the uncontrollable sobbing as he thought of how his father had abandoned him for the last time. The tears subsided as Bardo fell asleep – he lay cold, alone, and in the dark. A fate he shared with his father.



Bardo woke with a frightened snort. He had ridden the nightmare and startled himself awake; in his dream, someone had wanted him to crawl forward through the wall that sealed the end of the chamber. The fear reduced the pain in his body, and as he stretched, he felt the dull ache of sore muscles, where jagged rocks had bitten into his skin, causing rivulets of blood to dribble down his extremities.

Grateful that no-one was around to witness his alarm, Bardo’s mouth was dry and his embarrassment brought a lump to his throat. He made a conscious effort to avoid the despair that had blackened the previous day – he was not sure it was the previous day, since he had no idea of how long he had slept.

The cave offered protection but did not prevent the hot stale air rushing passed his head. Bardo rested his face on the pack and concentrated on listening. His ears began to pick out sounds in the cavern beyond the wall, the drip of water into a pool, the occasional scrape of sliding rock, and the sound of a voice.

“You need to crawl through the space now,” a voice said suddenly from inside head.



Bardo froze and lay silently, listening. The sound of his blood coursing through his veins pounded in his head impairing his hearing, as his heightened senses tried to give meaning of his predicament. In a single shattering moment, stunned by disbelief, he clutched at what he did know. Sometime ago, he was not sure how long ago, but it was only a few hours he was sure of it. He had crawled into a slender pipe inside a cave; he had fallen asleep at the enclosed end of the tube.

Bardo pulled his hands from beneath his body and reached over his pack, he slowly forced his hands forward, straining to touch the rock face but it had gone. He let out a piercing scream as someone grasped his left-hand.

“Shush, don’t make a sound with your mouth, others may hear you” Said the stranger in his head. The voice was heavy and clear, and Bardo heard it as plainly, as if his ears had intercepted the sound.

The Veiled One remained motionless for a time, lying in the tunnel, his mind numb with shock and slowly his fear turned to anger. He wanted to strike out and hit somebody.

“Shush Bardo!”

“Who are you?” Bardo demanded. The hands released his arm as he spoke and he quickly pulled his hands back as he remained alert to danger.

“I am a sentinel, and I guard the entrance to the web.”

“Where are you?”

“In front of you, where else could I be?”

“Reveal yourself”

“Shush, please do not speak with your mouth, there is still danger, you must speak to me with your mind.”

“What do you mean speak with my mind?”

“Try to talk only with your thoughts, think aloud, but do not speak a word.”

Bardo tried to move backwards down the tunnel but his fear paralysed him. He now understood why the forest animals remained motionless when hunters approached – it was not cunning but rather fear that held them spellbound.


“Little one, don’t be afraid, you came in search of the Holy Mountain, did you not?”

Bardo trembled as his backpack disappeared along the tunnel into the darkness. His body involuntarily shook as the pack screeched along the floor snagging on rough stones as it travelled, then came a heavy thud as if the pack had dropped to the floor.

The darkness diminished as Bardo concentrated his vision. Something ahead was grey contrasting against the surrounding darkness. The terror lessened as he saw the left side of a neck and shoulder, he drew comfort that it was only a man he faced.

“Please come inside the web, you cannot remain there,” said the guardian.

“I will if you move back,” Bardo nervously replied as he crept forward.

The figure retreated until it was out of sight but by that time Bardo was tentatively feeling around the tunnel as it expanded into another cavern. He could tell from the footsteps of the man below him that he was in a tunnel about a shoulder’s height from the floor of the large cave before him.

“There is no-one here to harm you, please enter.”

Carefully Bardo poked his head from the safety of the tunnel as the man retreated into the room. He was an old man dressed in a simple grey tunic. His cloak was tossed back to reveal a large key dangling at his hip from a cord that also served as a belt. His short well-kept black hair black framed a kind and friendly face, a Copotik face. Bardo glared at the guardian, aware the man represented a race of people who had committed all kinds of horrors.

Bardo looked around; the walls of the cavern were smooth and have a thin, metallic looking coating over the darker, coarser rock beneath. Bardo found the silvery lustre of the glaze relaxing but as he looked around the room the surface changed from silver to greenish as it neared a doorway on his left.


He noticed a worn cushion littering a ledge formed where the cave wall protruded, which could comfortably serve as a seat. Bardo quickly formed a plan that was both simple and deadly.

“I need to close the seal, now,” said the guardian with authority in his voice, as he moved quickly to aid

Bardo. His firm grip hauled roughly and securely as he eased Bardo to the floor.

No sooner had the Veiled One touched the floor than he rolled, simultaneously yanking the guardian’s cloak. With a startled outcry, the old man landed on his back on top of Bardo’s legs. Even as Bardo kicked frantically, the guardian despite his elderly bearing rolled and came to his feet, seemingly all in one fluid motion. His ruby eyes bulged in anger as his large pupils dilated.

Bardo rose to his feet and pulled his iron sword from under his flowing gown. He was a reasonable fencer, his reflexes were good, and his time spent hunting had strengthened his muscles. Despite his hatred, he had no wish to kill the old man. His opponent moved backwards towards the wall and turned his back on Bardo. He seemed more concerned with closing a rock door. It took Bardo only a moment to realise the hatch closed off the route to the surface.


“Does waving that make you feel comfortable?” The guardian asked, without turning to look at Bardo.


“It keeps me safe,” Bardo responded. He eased his grip around the wire bound hilt of the iron blade. An item made from the rare metal was expensive, but it held more than intrinsic value to Bardo. His mother had left the sword to him. His father had delivered the sword and an obsidian mirror that had been the only possessions left by Bardo’s mother.

“All right if it makes you happier keep it,” said the guardian as he closed the entrance to the web. Bardo watched as the rock seal hinged on a solid metallic arm, fitted exactly into the hole. The only trace of where the exit had been was the mechanical toggle that held the seal in place. The guardian used the key to lock the seal that confined Bardo to a subterranean prison.

“Will you put up your sword?” The guardian asked politely, handing the backpack to Bardo.

“Of course,” Bardo replied sheaving his weapon.

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” the guardian apologised.

“That’s fine.” Bardo smiled readily. “I wasn’t afraid,” he lied. He looked quizzically at the guardian. “How did you speak with your mind?”

“It isn’t difficult when you know how,” the guardian laughed. The laugh was infectious and Bardo could not help joining in. “If you stay awhile here we can show you many new things.”

“I’d like that,” Ahmed replied sincerely.

“We have some time, so sit and let me tell you about the forlorn Copotik.”

Both smiling they sat on the ledge, Bardo ensuring that he sat on the cushion. If he were to be a prisoner, then he would be a comfortable captive. As the new detainee sat to listen, the guardian spoke the words that Bardo would never forget.

“I am, Solyn, your father’s brother. I am your Uncle and I welcome you to the hiding place of the last of the Copotik.’


HOPE YOU GUYS DON"T MIND ME TAKING ALL THIS SPACE,
THANKS
STEVE

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Lisa

I value your opinion. Adter all you know what is good... you read Fiona. Therefore, any feedback would be essential to me.

Here is a clue, it's my first rough draft...and need emotional layering, a few more hooks and some tension haha. I read it in te post and found much wrong with it... but hey I really would like your honest to goodnes feedback.

And I think all you guys on this board are experts, because you read the genre and are widely read.

Anyway thanks for even printing it off. I appreciate all yuor help. Steve

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Hey Steve just read the first chapter of the rough draft and its a good catcher. Can't wait for the second part. Anyway umm, you where after some constructive critizem (Sp??)

Well maybe if you explain a few things, like the first few paragraphs where a bit hard to catch on, umm, for instance, I got confused when you said "Veiled one" guessing its some special person - dunno really...

Err also too maybe just explain the town a little more, like a background of who jamal was before he died. Err, like start off talking about Jamal and what is was growning up and maybe relate it to the son looking back on one of his fathers tales.... dunno its just an idea.

But other than that - it is a fantastic start... look forward to hearing more ">

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Hey, I just printed this out, will read and mail you my thoughts soon. Just remember, I am no professional by a long shot, this will just be pure personal opinion.

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..............................
it's getting hot in here
so take off all your clothes

Asteroid B-612

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Thanks

I agree the opening could be more engaging... I am thinking of spending alot more time explaining who Bardo is and why he is running away... touch some more emotions.

I was trying to get the pace that iona does...wow isn't that so hard... you have to admire they manner in which she writes.. it is more difficult than you first imagine.

Once again thanks for the feedback...

and the email... I appreciate it.

Steve

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Steve

I will printout tonight and hopefully email you tomorrow.

I say again that you are a braver man than I, but then who dares wins. Hows that for a sentence of cliches!

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Email is on it's way...

">

..............................
it's getting hot in here
so take off all your clothes

Asteroid B-612

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Got the email and thanks for the very constructive feedback.

Cheers
steve