Relonor's Journal Read online

  Relonor’s Journal

  Dansatorii al Morţii

  Tome 1

  By: River Gheuens

  Copyright © 2019 by River Gheuens

  https://gothgirl5222.wixsite.com/rivergheuens

  Manufactured in Belgium

  Self Published

  ASIN: B07TNCWHWW

  Cover Photo © 2019 rddesigned

  https://www.fiverr.com/rddesigned

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review. Trademarked names appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark. The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  As this book takes place in our world, any book which has been referenced, either directly or indirectly, has been referenced at the end of this book. This work is not part of their works, and is set in a different fictional world than this book. They are referenced only for the fact of how they affect the culture of this world.

  Dedications:

  To my wife:

  I would spend a thousand life times with you, and two bad songs. I love you. Happy birthday and anniversary.

  To my daughter:

  You can do anything if you just reach for the stars. I am proud of you and will always love you.

  To Erik Schubach:

  Thanks for all the eclairs.

  Terms

  Alții – The others.

  Bunică – Grandmother; Leader of the Romani family.

  Dansator al Morţii – Dancer of Death.

  Dansul morţii – Dance of the death.

  Din afară – Outsider.

  Dublei conducători răi ai Occidentului – Duel evil leaders of the West.

  Femeie a Sabie – Woman of the swords.

  Garda personală – Personal guard.

  Greva – A Romani strike party, typically consisting of five people.

  Huckleberry – A person or solution that is right to answer a problem or job.

  Limbajul Morţii – The hand language used by the Dansatorii al Morţii.

  Mad as a hatter – Insane.

  Mare Soră – Grand sister, the heir to Bunică.

  Moştenitor – Heir.

  Moștenitori – Heirs.

  Rahat – Bullshit; Shit.

  Soră – Princess.

  Sorăs – Princesses.

  Sun’s crest – Middle of the day; Noon.

  Language Guide

  “Quotes with word italicized in a sentence are meant as emphasis of the words. The emphasis may be a changed of tone, a stress added vocally or non verbal gestures which will show that word is important to the user.”

  Sentences like this in italicized words are internal thoughts.

  ‘An underlined text will show emphasis on the word used when reading.’

  ‘This style is sign language, which is used more in the next books.’

  Prologue

  Nine and Twenty, Six and Seventy Years Post Eruption

  Tuesday

  Professor Ashley sat on her desk with her family’s journal, while reading, as the pupils came into the room to take their seats. The professor was head to toe in black, with a heavy cowl around her neck and black leather gloves. Her face was in a black mask, which resembled a beautiful woman. Above the mask, she wore a floppy hat with dyed feathers.

  The only color which came from the outfit was: first, the gray, orange and yellow piping along her clothing. This showed she was one of the Romani leaders; however, a black piping was next to the colorful piping. This showed she was a Dansator al Morţii.

  The second source of color came from her mask. The color on the black mask brought out an eerie beauty to the mask, with black gems attached for eyebrows, and the eyes hidden from sight by a thin black cloth. The cheeks bore a blush to them, and the lips were covered with gold.

  The third color came from the silver shine of the rapier’s hilt, which she wore at her hip, and the counterpoint kukri’s grip, which rested on her right hip, which was of charred wood.

  The last color came from the yellow, orange, gray and black feathers in her hat.

  The only other thing which was of notice was a black rose patch, which hung to her left breast. A black rose with little lightning bolts whom were trying to escape from the bloom.

  A traffic jam was at the door from where the pupils were stopping to read the hand written signs. The first sign read, ‘Professors and pupils only. All other rank or status is irreverent.’ The second sign read, ‘Do not pet the hawk if you like your fingers attached to your hand.’ She had made these signs after the several classes she taught. These signs made her life easier.

  The journal in her hand was an old, black, leather bound affair, which had many pages stuck into the tome, some of which are tome marks as some are inserts. These inserts ranged from letters, to formal invitations of events or little notes. The little notes were penned by the people who had read the journals and knew the person, whom wished to convey a message over a passage.

  When looking upon the front cover, Relonor’s Journal was carved into the leather on the cover with a black rose. This was the person who had founded the order of the Dansatorii al Morţii. Upon the spine, Volume I was engraved into the leather. This was one of her family’s tomes, which was passed down from mother to eldest daughter.

  Professor Ashley looked up from the contemplation of her memories, which this tome evoked, from her to take in the class. “Pupils, please, settle down. Find your seats, please. Welcome to my class. As the sign states, there are only Professors and pupils in this room. That is the only rank there is in this room. You will comport yourself to your status in my classroom. I do not wish to be referred to as Bunică, Shogun or Dansator al Morţii. Anyone who does so, will find themselves on their way back to their kingdom of origin quicker than I can draw this sword.” The professor rested her hand on her rapier, after her hands finished signed the sentiment to the class in a hand language. While the Professor could hear very well, this was a tradition for her family, which had started with Dansator al Morţii Spencer.

  “We will be covering Shogun Relonor and her journey today. Shogun Relonor wrote her journal after these events had happened, which she uses memory in her strange way to tell her earlier tales. I will be translating the journal as I read from Dutch, which is one of the five languages of New Idaho. English is not a spoken language in New Idaho.

  “I will jump into this so we can get through the things I need to cover for this class, and which you will need to take your test next week. Pay attention, as I will not be repeating myself.”

  The Professor lectured this as she did every class, before she opened the old leather bound affair, which rested in her hands. Professor Ashley started to read to the class.

  Entry 1

  Seven and Twenty, Seven and Forty Years Post Eruption

  Groenplaats

  “Relonor! The
hunting party is back,” Vadoma yelled in her Romanian accent across the field from the watchtower, which was set three stories into the air of the Northern most building. My hands echoed the words to my friends and bodyguards, who were around me.

  I looked up to Vadoma calling to me, as the sun’s fall illuminated her for me to see with my good eye. My other eye showed me the mix of black and white images the wind had shown unto me. The wind showed me her beauty intermixed with a memory of her from this sun’s rise: her 5’10”, short brown hair which hung to her jaw line, deep turquoise eyes, sweet sensual lips, and cocky saunter which added the missing part to her beauty.

  She wore her an orange tunic with an orange, yellow and gray bodice, yellow pants, black knee high boots, and sword belt. A duelist’s blade hung on her hip with a zillion pouches hanging off of it. I swear, how does she ever find anything in them?

  I saw behind her the riders who rode hard toward our village, with my normal vision. The wind told me the villagers were coming out of their buildings, as they were excited to find out what the search party had found of the missing hunting party. My view was up to twenty steps in any direction with the wind.

  A few days ago a hunting party left heading North. They had not come back by sun’s fall. This was not uncommon; however, the morrow would have had them heading home to bring their kills or the herbs they had found. Hopefully, they had both! Never had a hunting party been gone three days. The Grand Master of our clan and Elder of the Tribe of the Wolf had decided to send a search party to find them. On this sun’s rise, they had set out in their search. Now, they rode hard towards the village.

  The party comprised of three women. One was of the Tribe of the Wolf, who was a skilled medicine woman and deadly with her bow. The other two women were from Clan Dieren. The two men were both from Tribe of the Wolf and expert trackers. Zalm, who was one of the riders, loves to boast about his tracking skills, which was usually after a few beers. He was the best tracker of the Groenplaats.

  As they closed to twenty paces, their color merged with the black, gray and white of what the wind was showing to me in my wind vision. I lost my eye eight months ago. When I did, I found I could see everything around me with the wind. I think it is the best way to describe it. When I close my eyes, where the wind can touch, I can see. It is like shadows and light. The more wind there is, the brighter my vision becomes. I have just started to be able to see the wind with my eyes opened. It is a weird two dimensional colored canvas while it is pasted on the three dimensional monotone wind vision of everything around me. Mind blowing, right?

  Their horses were covered in sweat and foamed at their mouths. They had been rode hard. One of the riders was slumped in the saddle, with blood staining the front of her. It was the medicine woman. What was her name? Lara? Luna? Libby? No, Lexi. Her long brown hair covered her face, as the blood dripped from the belly of her horse. She was hurt in a bad way.

  Everything exploded into motion at once. The bell by Father Sea was being rung in alarm. Everyone moved as they were drawing their weapons or ran to the armory to get weapons, before turning out from the village. Shield bearers knelt with short swords drawn as pikes were leveled over the shield bearers. Archers formed a line in the courtyard of the village, as the stationary clay pots were open at their feet, which showed a full war quiver of arrows. Children were hustled to the Elders, who drew their preferred weapons, while they readied for a defense.

  ‘Every dansul morţii has a beginning and an end. To start the dansul morţii, you start from the beginning. Be ready to defend first before finding your attacker and wait. Find the music of the fight and unleash the dansul morţii upon his first move,’ my hands absently signed with my thoughts.

  This is schooled into the my mind as it is into my pupils’ minds. They are the ones which stood with me on this day. We worked to defend anyone who is in need of protection as I was one of the Samurai. I am a master of giving violence to defend a life, a judge of the duels and a warrior for anyone who can not defend themselves.

  The horses rode past the lines of defenders, which closed the hole upon the horsemen, thus protecting them from that which they rode from. Zalm leaped off of his chestnut horse to Lexi’s side, as he caught her as she fell. “We are home my love. The healers will help.” He whispered to her before Zalm loudly cried, “Medic! Medic,” as he turned his head to the triage buildings, with tears falling from his eyes.

  Four healers ran toward the scene. The Romani healer, who bore the Romani colors in his clothing, draped his hands over her as he whispered to himself, while dim white tendrils of magik flowed from his hands to her body. They knelt next to her as they were examining the two small punctures to her stomach.

  The Romani healer said, “There are two arrows in her. They must be removed first. She has lost a lot of blood. Quickly sisters, move her to the triage building!” All four healers picked Lexi up from the ground, before carrying her to the triage building.

  Zalm went to follow; however, he was halted by a stern voice. “Report Zalm. What did you find?” It was Grand Master Alexandrew. He had seen two and sixty summers upon this Earth. He was mostly bald with gray hair cropped close to his head. He had piercing brown eyes, which spoke of the intelligence and wisdom he held.

  Zalm quickly turned, which caused his long brown braid to fly out behind him, to Alexandrew. Tears streamed from his hazel brown eyes, which dripped off of his chiseled jaw to fall upon the green tunic he wore. “Grand Master, we found them. They were all dead. That was not an arrow which felled my Lexi, but something else. The men,” he snarled, “Rode in the metal conveyances of the times before the Eruption. I think they had guns, at least they match what I have read of them as described. The conveyances they rode were green and a wheat color. Um….I think there were twenty of the conveyances. Five did not have wheels but had cylinders on them. However, they rode like the conveyances. They all had black smoke coming from their rear ends.”

  They are Gunslingers, if what they had been holding were the Widow Makers of the Old People. However, their actions told they held no honor, I thought to myself.

  He paused a moment while brows furrowed in thought. “The wagons and men were headed Southeast towards Tidal Mountain. I believe they may have changed course to follow us. If they did change course, while keeping the speed in which they were traveling before we were spotted, I would calculate…they will be here in about three hours.”

  “Detailed as always Zalm. Did you do anything which would constitute them feeling threatened by you? And why is Lexi hurt,” Alexandrew asked soothingly.

  “Grand Master, we did nothing to provoke them. I swear this to you upon my honor. Their scouts discovered us, before attacking with no warning. Their attack is why my Lexi is hurt,” Zalm said, as his fists whitened with the memory which was going through his head. “I decided, when she was injured, to flee. By the number of people, we could not stay to fight.”

  “Dear child, you did right. Fighting is never the answer. Also, it is better to warn us of this people,” Alexandrew said with a sad smile.

  From up on her perch of the North watchtower, Vadoma called, “Wolves approaching!” My hands were still echoing the conversation for Spencer to read.

  “I..i..indeed they would n..n..not be far behind the p..p..party,” stuttered out Elder Thomas, who was Zalms father.

  I turned to watch the newcomers approach. Thomas was the hyperactive Elder of the Tribe of the Wolf. He has always had a stuttering problem, though no one ever commented on it. His long black hair, which was flecked with gray, was tied back into a braid. He wore wolf skin clothing. They were not from kills, as it was illegal to hunt wolves or other canines in this land, but they were from wolves who had passed into the clearing at the end of the path.

  His gray eyes were shared with Zoey, who was his wolf and spirit animal. He followed behind him and a bit to his side. Zoey had black fur with gray flecked throughout the outer coat of fur. He had his long, pointy ears up, which
showed he was alert.

  Then, there was Naujee and Morgan. That is a pair of weirdness. Naujee is the Mother of the Romani here in Groenplaats. She was bold and very impatient. I swear she said what she thought, regardless of tact. She had a dark brown skin, with three braids wove down the back of her head. Dramatically, she had the front half of her head shaved. Her eyes were the deep color of a forest cast in shade.

  Morgan is Naujee’s partner, who is genderqueer. It is confusing when you talk about someone who is genderqueer, as you must remove the gendered pronoun to replace it with a gender neutral pronoun. They were looking at Naujee. The love between the pair was seen, not so little as felt, between the pair. Their brown braid of hair hung over their left ear, with the right side of their head shaved. It gives them such a bold appearance. Do not let this look fool you, as Morgan is very shy and quiet when you talked with them.

  I swear my mental eyes were rolling as Naujee spilled out of her mouth, “Rahat! What in the cluster fuck is going on here?” Her hand fell to her hip, which was covered with the yellow, orange and gray dress she wore. The colors showed she was one of the Romani. Her hand was not far from the short sword she wore at her hip. Her other hand went to Morgan’s hand. A smile formed on Morgan’s lips, before Morgan intertwined their fingers together.

  Thomas rolled his eyes, like literally rolled his eyes, while saying, “I k..k..know. Let us w..w..wait for my son to t..t..tell us!”

  “I would not have said it if he was not already telling us,” Naujee instantly snarled back, as she seductively rolled her eyes to Thomas. “But he is just standing there and not talking.” She was holding out her hand at Zalm, who had a not again look on his face.

  Alexandrew sighed. “Please, could we for just this once not have this?”