MASTER RISEN AND THE THROWROD - Flash Fiction

MASTER RISEN AND THE THROWROD

By E.J. Hall

"Master?"  The acolyte quietly queried the lean shirtless man hanging by his toes from a bar suspended from the ceiling.   

The master curled up forward and grasped the bar with his hands, unhooked his toes and swung down dropping to the floor silently.  "Yes, Jared."

"There is a sign of a Throwrod,” he spoke with his eyes cast down at the polished red floor. 

The master smiled.  He wiped the sweat from his face and torso with a towel.

"The King said, tell Master Risen, find the Throwrod and implore it to come and bless the kingdom."

~~~*~~~

Risen stepped out on the ice of the River.  He pulled up the woolen hood on his smock and trod out across the snow-clad surface till he came to the first print.

The step the Throwrod left on the surface was unmistakable.  Risen was the only one that could tell when the step was made.  He was the only one that could converse with the beast when found.  Kneeling, he put his hand in the center of the print.  He could feel the surface was warmer with a degree of moisture yet not refrozen.  The Throwrod had passed over the river not six hours before.  An assessment of the last step on the river will give him speed.  With that, he can figured it would be ten hours to catch up to it.

The next Throwrod step was ten yards away.  Risen could see it had made its way across the river in a straight line. 

It was the second time he had encountered a Throwrod. It looked the same as the one before, he expected that. It sat on it's rear with its hind legs sticking out straight reminding Risen of a child's stuffed bear stowed in the corner. There were no feet other than four concave pads that went straight like tree trunks to the body.  The Throwrod was fifty feet high sitting covered in a light dusty gray/green that the King sought.  It had no eyes or ears; it only had a slight lump that could be a neck for want of a head.

Risen approached to see all the Throwrod without craning his neck.  He dropped his hood and spread his hands wide. 

"Hello, Risen."  A voice came to his mind.  "For what do you seek me?"

"Great one, as no man can divine your purpose, no man can alter your purpose or understand your reason, I have been sent by the King to beg your attention,” Risen spoke aloud. 

"I know.  What would your King have of me?"

"He cries for your blessing on his Kingdom.  That you would come to the valley and shake.  The King would impart any payment that he is able."  Risen had seen a Throwrod shake several decades ago, and the spores released caused the land for a hundred miles to flourish for years.

"The winter is a bad time.  I am traveling North.  To go to your valley is not in my way."

          "I see,” Risen acknowledged.  "I will relate that to the King.  Can you come in the Spring?"

"I cannot."  The voice was neutral in Risen's mind.

"One more question, if I may?"

"Yes."

"When the thaw comes, and headwaters melt, would you shake on the river that feeds the valley?"

The Throwrod sat silently for a time, then rose to its four legs.  "I must go.  When the snow melts and the waters swell.  I will shake to your benefit."  With that thought, the Throwrod rose and lumbered on across the snowy high plain.

Risen raised his hood and turned, good news for the King.

All rights reserved by Emmett J. Hall