bag. Then he filled two horns with grain that had been cooked through by rolling it in a flattened vine with a large stone of light. He quietly left again as he threw the straps of the pouch around his neck, and with his good arm, picked up Tinnen easily and ran through the city toward the outskirts of the far-off tunnels. He knew he was betraying the Empire; the Het; even his own family by doing this. But he thought, “What would it hurt to save one Nen?”
Atenilek found a passageway and followed it slightly upward when he found a room that had a stone floor. The walls were covered with drawings and paintings , but only as high as Atenilek’s elbow. He knew they had been made by a tribe smaller than the Het. He recognized immediately, some of the pictures. He was sure they were from the ancient tellers. He believed them to be Anthro. The paintings on the wall looked very similar to the ones that lined the walls of the sparsing ground. However these painted stories were different.
Instead of the Warrior woman, called Hrilla, killing soldiers and leading away hundreds into captivity; this story’s pictures read as though Hrilla had saved hundreds from a madman.
“This can’t be,” he said as he examined the walls. He followed the story of pictures and scattered words. He saw Hrilla’s name. He saw the story of the Hoth rebellion and the name Fbathin.
“But I always thought it was Hrilla who invaded the Empire and stole the children,” he mumbled to himself.
All the tribes had seen the history painted on the walls surrounding the sparsing ground of the ancients, who had been led away by Hrilla, to the surface of Hell. However, these historical writings were so far away from the Empire that Atenilek wondered if it was possible someone from the surface had reentered the tunnels and made these different accounts.
Emperor Kent had given the duty of history keeping to the Goweli, beautiful and nimble. They were well versed in the art of storytelling and painting, dancing and singing, even their genetic makeup was seen as the most elegant and lovely.
“But who would change the tellings of the Goweli?” Atenilek wondered aloud. They were only allowed to show in their drawings what Emperor Kent chose for them to display.
“This must be a work of fiction,” Atenilek believed.
All of these thoughts flashed through Atenilek’s brain , but when Tinnen stirred in his arms, he focused again on finding a suitable place for his small weak friend. A tub-like structure was a few giant steps away.
Atenilek almost stumbled when he tried to kneel down. He forgot his right arm was gone. He barely caught his balance without dropping Tinnen headfirst into the stone structure beneath him.
After steadying himself, he lay Tinnen down gently and took the pouches from around his neck and began to help him drink. Tinnen quickly became aware of his friend giving him aide and he drank heartily. Tiny Tinnen smiled as he relaxed back into the tub-shaped rock.
While Tinnen rested , Atenilek investigated the large room. Though the paintings occupied his attention for quite a while he was also curious about a place of wild growth.
They stayed until late in the day. Atenilek gave freely of the food and water he brought for his friend from his own rations.
When Tinnen drew a strong breath he exclaimed with a quiver in his lip, “My debt to you grows deeper, Master.”
“You are quite well,” Atenilek said with a pleased smile. “I thought I’d lost you, my little friend. I’m glad that the Nen revive quickly when nourished.”
“What could you be thinking?” Tinnen asked with a shake of his head.
“I couldn’t let your life be star ved from you.” Atenilek said. “I care for you.”
“ But I will leave tomorrow never-the-less. My life will undoubtedly be taken. How it is taken is of no consequence.” Tinnen spoke with courage.
“But,” Atenilek began befor e Tinnen interrupted.
“Ehic is strong and I will not be
Atenilek found a passageway and followed it slightly upward when he found a room that had a stone floor. The walls were covered with drawings and paintings , but only as high as Atenilek’s elbow. He knew they had been made by a tribe smaller than the Het. He recognized immediately, some of the pictures. He was sure they were from the ancient tellers. He believed them to be Anthro. The paintings on the wall looked very similar to the ones that lined the walls of the sparsing ground. However these painted stories were different.
Instead of the Warrior woman, called Hrilla, killing soldiers and leading away hundreds into captivity; this story’s pictures read as though Hrilla had saved hundreds from a madman.
“This can’t be,” he said as he examined the walls. He followed the story of pictures and scattered words. He saw Hrilla’s name. He saw the story of the Hoth rebellion and the name Fbathin.
“But I always thought it was Hrilla who invaded the Empire and stole the children,” he mumbled to himself.
All the tribes had seen the history painted on the walls surrounding the sparsing ground of the ancients, who had been led away by Hrilla, to the surface of Hell. However, these historical writings were so far away from the Empire that Atenilek wondered if it was possible someone from the surface had reentered the tunnels and made these different accounts.
Emperor Kent had given the duty of history keeping to the Goweli, beautiful and nimble. They were well versed in the art of storytelling and painting, dancing and singing, even their genetic makeup was seen as the most elegant and lovely.
“But who would change the tellings of the Goweli?” Atenilek wondered aloud. They were only allowed to show in their drawings what Emperor Kent chose for them to display.
“This must be a work of fiction,” Atenilek believed.
All of these thoughts flashed through Atenilek’s brain , but when Tinnen stirred in his arms, he focused again on finding a suitable place for his small weak friend. A tub-like structure was a few giant steps away.
Atenilek almost stumbled when he tried to kneel down. He forgot his right arm was gone. He barely caught his balance without dropping Tinnen headfirst into the stone structure beneath him.
After steadying himself, he lay Tinnen down gently and took the pouches from around his neck and began to help him drink. Tinnen quickly became aware of his friend giving him aide and he drank heartily. Tiny Tinnen smiled as he relaxed back into the tub-shaped rock.
While Tinnen rested , Atenilek investigated the large room. Though the paintings occupied his attention for quite a while he was also curious about a place of wild growth.
They stayed until late in the day. Atenilek gave freely of the food and water he brought for his friend from his own rations.
When Tinnen drew a strong breath he exclaimed with a quiver in his lip, “My debt to you grows deeper, Master.”
“You are quite well,” Atenilek said with a pleased smile. “I thought I’d lost you, my little friend. I’m glad that the Nen revive quickly when nourished.”
“What could you be thinking?” Tinnen asked with a shake of his head.
“I couldn’t let your life be star ved from you.” Atenilek said. “I care for you.”
“ But I will leave tomorrow never-the-less. My life will undoubtedly be taken. How it is taken is of no consequence.” Tinnen spoke with courage.
“But,” Atenilek began befor e Tinnen interrupted.
“Ehic is strong and I will not be
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