My writing, and welcome to it.

Through Doldrun's Gate

excerpt from a work in progress
by Michael Klingensmith

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A light, cold rain had been falling for hours, a mild but persistent rain, and Odon'l was soaked to the skin. He sat in forlorn silence beneath the spreading, dripping branches of a tree by the mountain road, and watched a stream of muddy water pour down the hillside. His mount, a shaggy gray donkey so small that Odon'l's feet dragged the ground when he rode it, stood calmly under the tree and nibbled the grass at its feet.
Odon'l was thumbing idly through a large, dog-eared tome. "The rain's not going to stop, Hlaf," he said to the donkey. "I think we're going to have to move on. We have to be in Doldrun by nightfall or they'll lock us out." He shifted slightly but could find no more comfortable position in the icy quagmire in which he sat.
If Hlaf heard or understood, it gave no sign.
"I suppose we'd better--wait!" Odon'l said, his face alight. "This might help. 'A Charme for the Abatement of Waters'." He struggled to his feet and tried in vain to wipe away some of the mud that covered his traveling robe, while at the same time keeping the book from getting any wetter than it was.
"A Charme of Abatement," he announced in stentorian tones, "granted me by the god of the sun, may his gift never fail us." Odon'l reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out a handful of dust, which he sprinkled in a wide circle around himself, while mumbling incomprehensible magewords from his book. A crackling phosphorescence traced curling patterns through the air, and a sudden peal of thunder made Odon'l jump. He slammed the tome shut and began to walk a measured, winding path away from the tree while nodding and gesturing with one hand. Then, in the middle of the road, standing ankle-deep in mud, he threw his head back and shouted his defiance at the implacable rain.
"Abate!" Lightning split the sky and thunder rumbled somewhere off in the distance.
For several long seconds, nothing happened. The only sound was that of the rain falling and the water pouring down the hillside.
Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the raindrops got larger, heavier, colder. Before long, the rain had turned to sleet, which seemed disinclined to stop.
Odon'l stood for a moment in the middle of the road, face upturned, letting the slush fall on him. Then, without a word, he turned and headed down the mountain road, Hlaf in tow. The muddy water splashed about his feet.

He threw his head back and shouted his defiance at the implacable rain.
"Abate!"
Lightning split the sky and thunder rumbled somewhere off in the distance.

Odon'l stood before the vast, weathered wooden gate of Doldrun shortly before dark. The high stone wall that surrounded the city stretched away to either side of Odon'l, disappearing into the gloom. One or two soldiers stood a desultory watch atop the wall next to the guardhouse, and looked down at Odon'l with what appeared to be total disinterest. The foul weather had apparently followed Odon'l down the mountain, and the loud plop of the sleet striking the soldiers' helmets was clearly audible.
Odon'l stood some time longer. The soldiers gazed down in his direction without a flicker of recognition in their eyes that he was there. He looked up at them, expecting them at any moment to offer to open the gate. Nothing happened for a long time.
At last, Odon'l could stand it no longer. "Hail the guardhouse!" he shouted up at the two soldiers. For long moments, nothing happened. Then, when it seemed that the silence could not be stretched any further, one of the soldiers stirred. He shifted a polearm from one hand to another. "What is it?" he asked, with such economy of movement that it seemed to Odon'l that his mouth hadn't moved. Maybe it hadn't. Nonetheless, Odon'l addressed himself to the soldier who had shown at least some sign of life.
"I want to enter the city," Odon'l called to the man, who, after a moment of seeming indecision or a brief struggle with inertia, disappeared into the guardhouse. A few seconds later, with a great grinding of gears and clanking of chains, the enormous gate doors slowly began to swing inward. Odon'l touched his hand to his dripping cap in thanks to the remaining soldier and led Hlaf into Doldrun.
A small form detached itself from the shadows of the gateway and planted itself in Odon'l's path. Peering into the gloom, Odon'l made out a man who seemed to be another member of the constabulary. A short sword was slung from one hip; a truncheon hung from the other. His threadbare uniform differed from those of the soldiers on the wall only in that he wore a brassard of some sort on one arm. Odon'l started in surprise when the little man reached for the truncheon, but when pulled free of its sheath, it revealed itself to be faintly luminous along its length. In this dim light, the little constable, a banty rooster of a man, examined Odon'l closely.
"What's all this, then?" he croaked.
"I--I want to enter Doldrun," Odon'l stammered. "Is there some law against that?"
The constable's face clouded over. "Don't get snippy with me, you young pup," he said, "or you'll get a taste of the lash. Now what do you want here in Doldrun?"
Odon'l made a quick calculation and dispensed as much truth as he felt was wise. "I'm looking for work," he said. "I'm hoping to find something here in town."
The constable looked him over with a scowl. "Not much work to be found here, boy," he said. "And we don't need any more layabouts. If you're looking for handouts, you might just as well keep going."
"I'm not looking for handouts," Odon'l said hastily. "And I won't be here long. If I haven't found a job inside of a week, I'll be gone."
The constable relaxed. His weatherbeaten face twisted into something he meant to be a smile. "Well, then," he said. "Now that that's understood, we can talk about the matter of your toll."
"My toll?"
"Aye. Coming to Doldrun's a privilege, lad, one that a visitor has to pay for." He looked Odon'l over from top to bottom, trying to gauge how much squeeze he could extract. Not much, he apparently decided; Odon'l was caked from head to toe with mud, and even in the best weather, his robes would be worn and patched.
"Two crowns," the constable said.
Muttering under his breath, Odon'l dropped two gold coins into the constable's outstretched palm. The man smiled and pocketed the money, then stood aside to let Odon'l pass.

END

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