The Cloud: Prologue

The Cloud

Prologue: An Invite Under the Burning Sky


         “Okay, Jackie. Break time!”

         She tugged gently at the reins and stopped her horse just under the shade of a tall tree.

         Up in the sky, the noonday sun was a blazing fireball.

         Ilona winced. Jackie, her horse, was lathering at the mouth, its chest expanding and contracting with rapid gulps of air. A Driyavian breed, it was naturally equipped to withstand the oppressive heat of the desert. Still, Ilona had been reluctant to bring her along. In the days they had spent traveling together, she had grown attached to the animal. Seeing it suffer like this was the last thing she wanted.

         Dismounting, she led the tired beast to a nearby waterhole, where it lapped up the water with its long, pink tongue. Ilona removed the hood of her traveling cloak from her head, coursed her fingers through her straight, black hair matted with dust, and gave off a weary sigh.

         To state that the Driyavian desert was hot would have been akin to saying wolves made cute mewling noises when provoked. No, the desert was not hot. It was positively scorching. The sun’s rays hit her skin like a mitten covered in briars. The wind itself, whenever the desert found it appropriate to blow any in her direction, felt like a luxurious bath in oil at boiling point.

         Exhausted and more than a little miffed about the weather, her dark eyes swept over her surroundings and took in the sights of a land forsaken by the four, fair seasons. She was a long way from Islengraad, the country of her birth, where the trees were plentiful and the ground was never bare.

         Still, there was one thing that raised her hopes. For there, far to the south, beyond the jagged ridge of hills that stabbed at the sky, was a darkness that hung like a pall over the horizon.

         A thunderstorm.

         And thunderstorms meant rain.

         Briefly she wondered how such a phenomenon could choose to happen over a hot, arid desert. It was strange; thunderstorms and deserts just didn’t mix. But who was she to complain?

         Ilona licked at her parched lips and swallowed at the dryness in her throat. Then she reached back for the rucksack that hung form her shoulder. Reaching inside, she found a battered-looking scroll. For the umpteenth time since she had first embarked on this journey, Ilona unrolled the scroll, and read it.


         Greetings Ilona the Adventurer!

         I hope this letter finds you, and that it finds you well. You may be wondering how this parched piece of paper has made its way into your hands. Suffice it to say that word travels fast, and that news of your many daring adventures has reached even the remotest of areas in the land. It is from one such place that I set my quill to paper, hoping against all hope that this letter reaches you in time.

         We are a small community, a humble settlement located in the northern fringes of Driyav. I regret to inform you that our town has yet to be given a name, for its founders, of whom my very own father bears the honorable title of co-founder, have hitherto failed to agree upon one that will be most suitable for our home. Fortunately, our town is not all that difficult to find.


         The next paragraph described the numerous roads that led to the town, which Ilona had taken to calling Nameless Town. Contrary to what the letter said, Nameless Town was near impossible to find, for the directions were very vague, almost ridiculously so, with headache-inducing instructions like, “turn right at the boulder shaped like a smiling cow,” and “make a roundabout turn when you spot the sixth shrub.“ It had given Ilona a migraine just figuring it all out.

         Ilona was grateful that, after the directions, the letter was quick to get into the heart of the matter.


         Over the past few months, many of our people have gone missing. Numerous search parties have been dispatched to find them, but none have returned. All have vanished without a trace. Many have begun to worry and fear for their own safety. Nobody knows who will be – and I am most reluctant to use the word – taken next. Some have suggested that we leave town, but we run the risk of being caught by the deadly force that has already caused the disappearance of so many. We are a people running out of options.

         It was then that you came to mind, worthy heroine. You, the banisher of the demonic presence Belial; you who conquered the mechanical beast Xerxes in the jungles of distant Mananan. Our stories of you flow like fine wine, and our admiration, like song on our lips.

         On behalf of my people, dearest Ilona, I beseech you. Please, come to our aid. You are our only hope in our most dire of hours. You are our sole savior, in our time of need.

         May the blessing of the gods and goddesses pave the roads you travel with light and love. We pray that your journey is safe, and eagerly anticipate your arrival.


         Yours truly.
         V. Arcacius


         Ilona folded the letter and stashed it away in her rucksack.

         She had received the letter over two weeks ago, brought to her door by an unknown carrier. Back then, she was still in the city of New Deltayana, in a village off the southern rim of Wispy Woods. Its arrival had left her with mixed emotions. Although the prospect of a new adventure was exciting, the letter was too vague in its description of the problem besetting the unnamed town. In truth, she did not really know what to make of its plea for help. Who was this Arcacius fellow who had signed it? No introductions had been given. No clue as to how she would find him once she had arrived at the town. But in the end, the call of adventure had won out. It had taken her only a day and one night to reach a decision. Before long she was already with Jackie, on a ship that sailed past Ryogun towards the Driyavian continent.

         And now, here she was, on her way to the aptly dubbed Nameless Town. Whoever Arcacius was, and whatever it was that troubled this mysterious community, she would find out soon enough.

         Jackie’s head reared up, its bright black eyes gleaming like pearls. Ilona reached for the horse’s neck, gently massaging the muscles there.

         “It’s time to go, fella,” she whispered in the horse’s ear. It gave a soft whinny, understanding. “We don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

         Ilona looked once more to the south, where the darkness lay over the land like a blanket. Then she climbed onto the Jackie’s back and, with a careful nudge at its flanks with her heels, coaxed the animal into an easy trot.

         Under its hooves, the dry, arid ground popped and crackled like eggshells.