Sword of Mist of Honour

A series of tweets in the style of a fantasy novel manuscript.

SWORD OF MIST OF HONOUR – BOOK I: The Bone of Truthship

For humble farm boy Anderthon Van Halla, the day begun as normally. The triple suns of Prometheonymus rose and the space cock crowed.

Anderthon groaned with a sigh. It was only 0600 parsecs and he had a whole days choors ahead of him on the humble farm. Damn it!

But Anderthon leaped from his humble cot all the same, his sinwey young frame glistering in the triple sunlight. There was work to do!

Anderthon dressed in his rough farm boy jerkin that barely covered the hard muscules of his albumen and headed for the cow pastures.

As he strode along in the bright triple morning sunlight, Anderthon wandered about the future. Would he always be stuck here he wandered.

Anderthon loved his step-parents but they were simple folks and he found him self dreaming of great deeds of honour and velour.

And he coul’dnt help feeling even as he milked the enormous sable tooth cows that he was some how fated for destiny.

He shook his head, drops of milk spraying over his rough leather farm pants. “Don’t be so damn stupid Anderthon. Your a dreamer is all!”

“Just remember XuChenna” he told himself. “If you work hard and stay true you WILL win her hand!” Anderthon was lost in thoughts.

XuChenna was his childhood sweet meat from the next farm colony over. She was kind and thought full with flowing klaxon hair.

And yet Anderthon found his thoughts straying away from XuChenna, especially when he was astride his trusty mount Firmflanks.

Why can’t I just be happy he thought gazing down at Firmflankses rippling muscules. He was finished the milking now and was riding.

Suddenly Anderthon spotted something in the grass of the cow pasture. What a weird shape sticking up. Evocative and all most talismanic!

Anderthon hurriedly dis mounted and decided to investigate the strangely unchanting object. “What the heck could it be? He amused”.

With his strong, rough, task-hardened, farm boy, humble hands, Anderthon grasped the object. It felt hard and dry to the touch.

He tried to rest it free of the soil. Damn! It wouldn’t budge. He braced his power full thighs and tugged again with all his mite.

This time, it came free. Anderthon found himself flying backwards with his hands wrapped around a giant, mysterious bone!

Anderthon gasped and ran his powerful hands up and down the strange, weird bone. Pearing more closely, he noticed some explicable runes.

The runes were in the ancient script of the indigent Prometheonyman peoples, but luckily Anderthon had studied hard at farm school.

“He who rests the bone of truth from the earth” said the runes “he shall be the true air of Aramis and shall come all over evil”.

“Heir of Aramis”? “Come over all evil?!” Anderthon’s mind reeled with dizziness. How could this be? Had he been choosen some how?

It was all to much for Anderthon to take in. He thrust the enormous, mystical bone into his humble nap sack and headed for home.

“Hello dear said” his Stepmom XoNanna kissing his fourhead as he strode wearily in for super. “Have you finnished all your choors”?

“Ca’nt you damn well leave me be XoNanna” shouted Anderthon, storming to his humble bunk and shoving his secret bone under the blankets!

XoNanna looked at Anderthon perplexed and tears welled in her plane, humble eye (following an accident with space farm machinery).

Anderthon regretted his harsh words to his beloved step mother XoNanna. It was just that his mind was a whorl of new possibilities.

As he settled into his humble farm boy’s cot, the words the runes would make if they were read out loud echoed in his minds’ ears.

“Air of Aramis-is-is…come over all evil-il-il” Anderthon tossed and turned. He grasped the mysterious bone. It felt comforting some how.

Could it be that fate really did have some destiny in store for him? Somewhere beyond the stars? He hardly dared to hop.


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