A fox on the road
A sample chapter of Loquilian, The Alacritous Fox – Chapter 1
Below is a free sample chapter of my novel, Loquilian, The Alacritous Fox.
It’s a novel about wizards and their quest for self-mastery and greater wisdom. Set in a parallel world in an earlier age, it tells of the journeys of the fox alchemist Loquilian and the two wizards who join him along the way. It’s unusual, it’s lyrical, it’s visionary, it’s nostalgic, and you can purchase a copy here or via Lulu.com.
Enjoy!
A fox on the road
Loquilian, The Alacritous Fox – Chapter 1
“Is it final?” asked Loquilian.
His question faded into the silence as he looked at Katarea, waiting for an answer.
Loquilian was a fox-veremir (a fox with humanoid appearance and qualities). He was short, being four feet tall, dressed in a mid-blue cloak, full-length grey boots, and a dark tan suit. He carried a silver rapier on his belt. He appeared elegant and nimble, and though having some skill in fencing, his main craft was alchemy; not to be misunderstood as rudimentary chemistry but as the ancient tradition of individual transformation using the spiritual qualities of metals, plants, animals, celestial bodies, and other natural forces. His sword was also an alchemical symbol, representing the pinnacle of his Art—a vivid, agile awareness. As an alchemist, he was skilled in smithing, chemistry, healing, herb-lore, star-lore, survival training, hunting, stealth, and, in his view, conversation.
The space around him seemed to expand, or rather he became more aware of the room they were in—the great hall within Katarea’s castle. It was large, with stone-cobbled floor and a high ceiling. The walls were lined with patterned carpet hangings containing images of golden lions, rampant regardant, on red backdrops, or a silver crescent moon and stars on midnight blue. Between them were several tall windows shaped to pointed arches at their top. Their glass was dark, stained red and white in diamond shapes. Night lay outside and nothing but the reflection of the shifting candlelight was seen in the windows. A fireplace held a steady fire, burning logs of ash wood. Silence was the background to this place, an old and regal silence in the stones; the noble ancestors kept watch, as they had for hundreds of years. In the current mood, noise, be it a footstep or a gentle cough, stood out almost painfully.
Katarea was tall and arching, with pale skin contrasting her blood-red robe, which was hooded—though she kept it off—and hemmed with a black and white chequered pattern. She was still and thoughtful, but when she moved, it was with swift certainty. Her features were angular and her demeanour detached, but not insensitive. Her smile was slight, her expression poised and attentive to Loquilian.
“Yes,” Katarea replied.
“Then what will I do from now on?”
“That is for you to decide. I have released you from your service to the Goddess. What you do is your choice, and your responsibility.” Her face was fixed on the fireplace, her eyes cold in contrast to both his hope and the dancing flames.
They sat in silence. Time rolled into the night. The fire crackled and a glowing log crumbled into several smaller pieces.
He was about to say what his heart felt, but she anticipated it and spoke first. “Do not say what you feel. That is your opening to the world, those feelings. Keep them, cherish them, and let them lead you to where you need to be. They will show you a way from here.”
She turned toward the window. “And that is all the advice I can give. Please pack your belongings and leave this place.”
He caught his words, composed himself, and walked over to the fire, staring for a moment. He walked out of the room, heading down the hallway, to pack.
She let his footsteps echo her feelings further away from her heart as he left. Her secret feelings left her, no longer hers. She could not reveal anything more, not now. It was crucial in her training as a guide to have such self-control. She knew he was still a little too tender for the world, but she also knew it would shape him.
Sometimes our destiny is more than we are able to withstand. Yet afterwards, we are more than we thought ourselves to be.
Loquilian trod along the snow-clothed road. The wind was chilled, yet gentle, and the sky was clear of cloud and Moon. The Moon was new, a day from the dark moon, and it had already set, as had the Sun. The great arc of the Milky Way hovered over Loquilian. Its glow was comforting; he felt it moving with him, ushering his new beginning. Around it, a myriad stars covered the sky in their brilliant song of glittering awe. It felt like his sky; he felt a new sense of being at home under it.
Thus he wandered for many nights this way, comforted by star light. He began to grasp a sense of their supra-rational logic, their logos, as the elders would say. During the day he would rest in the wilderness, locating a warm sheltered place, and he would gather his meals in the morning and at dusk, often finding berries or tubers, and catching fish, or trapping small animals.
His attitude to his food, as he was taught, was to be deeply respectful for the life he was receiving. He knew the plant or animal would leave behind a portion of itself, the physical and vital aspects, and return to the greater world of Spirit. He was a skilled hunter, from which he could sustain his form in the physical world. He saw this exchange of life for another’s death not as something he kept for himself, for he would one day die and gift his form as food for other beings. He saw the life he had taken into his being as a sacred responsibility; it was received not merely for himself. He regarded his energy, emotions, deeds, words, and thoughts in terms of how he affected the world he lived in. His responsibility was not simply for himself or those around him, it was for the balance of the whole world, through his practical daily endeavours.
Understanding the nature of the Spirit World as encompassing and being much vaster than the Ordinary World, he saw how life was unity—it flowed into and out of forms as part of the natural cycle. Hunger and thirst, desire and need; these were forces inspired by the life-force, by Life itself as natural to its flow. To counter these forces with unnatural processes or actions was to create a dissonance between Life and his individual life-force. But to acknowledge the unison of life and death, and their ever-cycling nature, was for him to honour and respect the greater world that is both physical and spiritual. He was never cruel or tortuous to the living beings he fed from; he honoured them as sacred and honoured the sacrifice they were brought to experience so that he may continue his sacred living of life. He could feel the destiny they faced as he cut them from their physical being, and for this sacrifice, he knew they would not suffer in pain beyond their death.
He was also taught how often people are very afraid when it comes to pain, injury, and death. Most other existences, be they plants, animals, minerals or spirit beings, are, in the end, comfortable with this natural and necessary process. It is necessary because Life must grow through both pleasure and pain, birth and death, light and dark. Life is a deep process that cannot exist in a one-sided manner. The majority of non-human living beings are more connected to Spirit, and so are not encircled by a fearful view that this life is all there is. Many people, even religious believers who speak of life after death, do not wish to cross that threshold. But often they have no experience of their beliefs in reality, and have not explored their own fears around this. They remain falsely confident, until death’s reality meets them. Often then do they realise the freedom of living Life fully, but it is too late. Loquilian was trained to live the fullest possible existence, as his sacred responsibility.
Days and nights rolled on as Loquilian roamed freely, with no set destination. Eventually, early one morning, he came to a spring. It was a traditional pilgrimage site for many kinds of people, though was not widely known within the Tunglenol mountains to the east, where he was raised. A signpost informed him of the site: ‘Naerend’s Well’.
Offerings were seen around a grey stone pool, built many generations ago, which was shaped to meet flush with the curves of the hillside and hold the waters as they flowed. Willows hung their long strands into the stream that flowed on from the lip of this pool. Bird droppings and footprints of deer were seen nearby. The spring bubbled out steadily.
Loquilian then heard the talk of others nearby. He hopped a little up the hill to hide behind an ash tree and watch. Two figures cloaked in earth-brown robes came strolling to the well. One placed a basket on the ground near the well while the other took off her robe, revealing a dazzling green costume. It was made of thousands of emerald-green metallic scales, tightly fitting her slender form, a single piece from neck to wrist and down to her ankles. Golden fish earrings hung from her thin petite ears and a tiara of green-tinted gold studded with emeralds rested above her vivid almond eyes. She looked directly at Loquilian, who was smiling in appreciation for her sharp awareness.
The other figure then removed his hood only, showing his shortly shaved black hair and weathered face. His eyes were large and pointy, his nose was also large and bulbous. The lady motioned to him with her arm, indicating they were not alone. The man looked up towards where Loquilian sat, taking some time to recognise his presence, and let out a groan. “We’re not going to do you any harm, brother,” he said.
Loquilian knew they were trustworthy. They had the air of noble-folk, yet he felt no inclination to move from where he was. “Just having a rest before I move on,” was his response.
The man and the lady exchanged some words which Loquilian could not pick up, but he sensed their talk involved him.
“Come here and introduce yourself friend,” spoke the lady.
She began to unpack the basket, which looked to contain ritual implements: a vase, a lantern, incense, stones and a sky-blue cloth.
Loquilian remained there.
She looked at him again. “Come down here if you want to join us fox, or go elsewhere. There are no spectators in ritual.” They continued unpacking and began to set up an altar on the wall around the spring.
Now Loquilian was curious. He sat up, somewhat dazzled by the lady’s directness, and noticed the vase had the image of a blue dragon on it. He spoke as he stood and stepped towards them, “What’s that vase?”
Coming closer, he noticed there were several dragons encircling the vase, connecting their tails together in tight knot-work, while their mouths met the lip of the vase, spaced evenly around it—three dragons in total.
The man turned to face Loquilian, gaining his attention. Then the lady spoke, “We are travellers on an important journey. Please regard us before our treasures, young fox.”
Loquilian found her tone a little cutting, almost dominating. Feeling a little spritely, he ducked to the left to take a better look at the vase. The man stepped forward to intercept, at which point Loquilian twisted back to look straight up at the man, who was much taller than him. Collecting himself and lightly dusting himself off, Loquilian spoke, “I am Loquilian, a wanderer. I have no purpose other than to learn the ways of wisdom, and so to be of benefit to the world.”
“I am Tairesea of the court of Og’oreal, maiden of the Star-Elves, daughter of Queen Kistral,” spoke the lady.
“I, Quandal, am at the service of the Lady,” spoke the man.
Tairesea continued, “It is a noble ideal you hold, but in this world, ideals are seldom reached. What skills do you have? Where have you studied? Which lord or lady are your loyalties lent to?”
Quandal stared down at him, now with greater seriousness. Loquilian felt under interrogation. This he could understand, being a stranger to these two, in a world full of many strangers, but he had no fear under the gaze of this man. Loquilian’s main concern was to stay on their supportive side. He was curious about their reactionary nature though, and could see through Tairesea’s directness, which was obviously hiding a natural gentleness. Their ears now eager to hear, he opened his mouth to speak, “I have the skills of an alchemist, apprenticed for seven years to Baroness Katarea.”
He was impressed with himself, having answered all three questions in one sentence.
She was quick to respond, “Katarea, she is of the Natural Alchemy school, yes?”
Loquilian nodded.
She continued, “then you have a broader training than a scholar, though less able in the wild than a ranger, but more capable in pursuing research unaided, and still without the sense to keep some things secret before strangers. You appear young, and no doubt are fresh in your wandering. The world is not at all something you are ready for, that I can plainly see. How do you plan to adjust yourself in order to survive?”
He felt pressured again by her questions, forced to respond, and felt like a fool before her; would he reveal something else to embarrass himself? “Sometimes our destiny is more than we are able to withstand. Yet afterwards, we are more than we thought ourselves to be,” he quoted the well known verse from The Book of Regal Shadows.
Tairesea return an amused smile, and he knew her heart had softened. His apparent naivety was obvious, a weakness she felt sympathy for. Quandal relaxed; he went to some fallen branches nearby, and began to break them up into smaller pieces.
Loquilian now felt he was off the hook. He didn’t realise the seriousness of the quest these two were on though. In his spirit of casual wandering, he just stood there watching, waiting for something to happen.
Tairesea then spoke, “I was serious when I said you either join us or go elsewhere.”
Loquilian, not willing to commit to their ritual, excused himself, “Very well, then I am to head north-west. There are pleasant lands to that way I have heard.” His tone was a subtle mocking of her courtly speech.
She didn’t seem to notice, or, was it, mind. “That is well then, those valleys are indeed the dwelling place of many beautiful creatures, and contain many delicious fruits from many generous trees. I wish you well on your wandering, young fox.”
“Indeed that does sound ideal,” responded Loquilian.
Quandal merely looked over to him, giving a slight nod.
And with that, Loquilian began his wandering into the valleys to the north-west.
To read the complete novel, purchase your copy of Loquilian, The Alacritous Fox.
Also available via Lulu.com.