A Waiting Quest
(Picks up where A Subterranean Quest left off)
Anasril watched the Groundlings gather round
the bell-ringer; her graying ringlets spilled from
a blue violet kerchief as ceased all sound
bringing meeting to order; no crumb
for the messengers whose windowsill perch
let them view the curly heads gathered there
to discuss their quest’s fate and if their search
for aid was in vain. Anasril sat there
arms around her knees, while Chero waited.
A many-legged shadow dragged things behind
as it scaled the blue-violet plaited
curtain, whose intricate folds she’d ne’er find
again; ’twas a lost art form but she’d no
mind to pay to curiosity though.
~ ~ ~
The shadow morphed into a spider leg
that hooked the sill, then another and swung
its hairy body next to Chero’s leg.
The spider rubbed ‘gainst Chero; behind hung
a web-wrapped parcel he detached with care.
The black spider pancaked; its legs quivered
with bliss as he petted his pet spider.
Eight eyes regarded her; she didn’t shiver.
For their silk webs, her people raised spiders.
Those spiders weren’t hairy or smart like
Chero’s pet, in whose eyes intelligence
gleamed; she tore open the bundle and psyched,
lifted out a feast and all thought of whence
Chero came to Shayari and why flew
out of her mind at her first taste of blue.
~ ~ ~
Nectar rolled down her throat in a sweet, slow
cascade that dripped to her empty belly
filling it up and her beau; they won’t know
for a while yet whether help was likely.
Exhaustion claimed them and they curled up ‘neath
blankets from Chero’s pack; Chibi stood watch,
her eight eyes en garde, her spinnerets sheathed.
Anasril woke to a bumping cart splotched
with things; though swept clean, on it, her hopes rest
that it’d carry a Guardian; she grinned.
Chero sat on the driver’s box’s backrest;
Eight eyes protruded from his pack, legs twined
’round his neck–two hairy spider legs–tipped
her off to how Chibi’d come on this trip.
~ ~ ~
She floated over and joined him but sight
of a dozen Groundlings, eight men and four
women, that marched beside gave her a fright.
Beneath their tough soles, ice crackled like fore-
arm bones as they hot-footed it across
a frozen stream; an army followed now.
Dare she trust them? Her heart clenched with hope’s loss.
Yet her quest was true but Chero’s creased brow
gave her pause ’till his dark eyes captured hers.
In their depths she finds trust; her chest eases;
she breathes, takes a place beside; the wheels whir,
spokes blur as the wagon rolls; it doesn’t seize.
She takes her place at Chero’s side; he guides
them through the forest–their pony-drawn ride.
~ ~ ~
They walked by lumir light, those bright crystals
held in the hand, affixed to wands, seated
in gilt wire cages that suspend crystal
glow from necklace, toe ring, anklet–beaded
into clothes or hairpins; so they’re walking
haloed in white light that’s pure to protect
from falling shadows and evening’s rising,
whose black tide brings bitter cold that rejects
spring’s coming or life’s affirming breath puffed
out in clouds that hang in sunset’s first blush.
A hush falls with the brick red sun; rebuffed
by lengthening day and lingering flush
of crepuscular light, the Undeem wait
to stalk the night ‘neath enchanted forest
boughs, where giant trees dream in season’s rest.
~ ~ ~
The Quest continues on Monday (1/18). Sarn returns tomorrow and his adventure continues…
If you’ve missed parts of Quest, you can catch up here: TOC | Read Part 1.
~ ~ ~
If you’re a fan of this lyric style of writing, pick up a copy of Stars and Angels Sing; it’s also written in verse and set in Shayari and it stars Sarn. It’s on sale now! Get your copy here.
~ ~ ~