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The Myths of the Veritas: Book One.

The Game

The Eyes of the Cat (MOTV)

26 Thursday Mar 2026

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#leadership, fantasy, fiction, learning, legends, mercy, myth, peace, ROI, stories, strategy, tactics, trust, Veritas, war, writing

When entering a dark place from a very light place, as all Veritas learned at an early age, prudence demanded using caution. The current situation of Tu-Swift and Shadow Walker demanded still more caution. Both had been injured; though not seriously; both felt limited mobility. Beyond that, the three women and one man that Tu-Swift had recounted as the occupants the cellar were all members of the tribe of People Who Steal Children!

All of these factors weighed on the mind of Shadow Walker. He glanced around what was left of the ancient armory. He spied no more swords but there were a few spears and clubs which could prove useful. They would be heavy to carry far, even had they both been whole-bodied. Still, thought Shadow Walker, there is enough weight here that I could prevent them from ever leaving this cellar, if indeed, they are even still in there. Tu-Swift thinks they’re safe, but he is really still a child.

Shadow Walker leaned close to Tu-Swift. “How sure are you that they are still in there? This could be a trap.”

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“I am certain that they are still in there.”

Shadow Walker chewed his lip thoughtfully. “How can you be so sure?”

Tu-Swift smiled, “This twig tells me so.”

Shadow Walker frowned, “What? What do you mean, the twig…ah.” Shadow Walker’s broad smile now supplanted the frown. “You put an inconspicuous twig on the edge so that if this door were moved you would know because the twig would be moved. Ingenious.”

Tu-Swift smiled too. It really warmed his heart to see Shadow Walker. “My tribe, especially including you and Many Paths, has taught me well, and for that I am grateful. As to the motives of Those Who Steal Children — of that I am less sure. But these four below seemed very … frightened. The man never struck me as personally cruel in the first place. And now, he’s in serious pain and has been for some time. Whatever his motives in the long term, I don’t think he’s likely to attack us.”

Tu-Swift continued, “There is something else. These people … are … odd. I mean, they never laugh or sing or dance. I think they … follow orders. And, now they have no leader. I think if their leader were here, and he told them to attack us, they would do so. But without their leader encouraging them to do it … I don’t think so. Their leader though … even though I never saw him … I could feel a kind of cold wind of evil ever blowing outward from him. Or, as though he were a river of evil from another world, flowing into and poisoning our own.”

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At last, after a long shared look, they creaked open the heavy trap-door — just a crack. The cellar didn’t just seem dark; it appeared to have sucked all the light out of the area. At least they could see that no-one crouched at the top of the stairs ready to ambush them. After some moments, their eyes began to adjust and they could see that the stairway was clear. They could hear the moaning of Jaccim Nohan, and Tu-Swift noted that it seemed somewhat weaker than when he had left.

Tu-Swift descended first. He used his sword now as a bit of a crutch. He greeted the people with a combination of sign language, Veritas (though he was sure none of them knew it), and a few words of greeting he had overheard. He tried to explain that his friend, Shadow Walker, was of his tribe and had come with medicine to help Jaccim Nohan.

{Translator’s Note}: It was indeed a few words — one to be exact. The closest modern American equivalent might be a flat-toned: “Hey.” It seems, so far as we can calculate, by far the most common form of greeting. The ROI rarely went beyond this. But I will render it into the more common polite Veritas expression: ‘How does it go with you?.’

Shadow Walker took a quick look around to ensure no-one else was nearby and descended after Tu-Swift. He patted his chest and said, “Shadow Walker.” He held up the leaves and pointed to them. “Medicine. Heal you.” He pointed to Jaccim.

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Shadow Walker’s eyes had now adjusted completely to the dim and flickering torchlight in the cellar. As he approached these odd people, he began to further appreciate Tu-Swift’s assessment: these folks hardly had the demeanor of warriors. They exuded fear, bewilderment, and confusion; he felt no anger or hatred whatsoever. That, of course, did not mean that there was no danger; not at all. A confused and fearful animal might attack even when the odds were stacked against it. Shadow Walker would continue to be wary, but he definitely wanted to reassure these people, not dominate them.

Although the Veritas language and that of the ROI were very distinct, there were some similarities. Using a combination of speech and sign language, Shadow Walker gained their confidence enough to approach closely. First, he pointed to his ankle, still visibly swollen. He hopped and grimaced. He applied a small portion of the herb to his knee. Then, he hopped without grimacing.

Eventually, he “convinced” them to try the medicine. He prepared the leaves in boiling water and spun them about to cool them down before applying them. These “burns” were not of fire but moving across too long and too hard which also causes “burns.” Only as Shadow Walker gently lay the leaves did he realize the strangest sensation — as though he were laying these leaves here and now but also there and then. Not only that: he had the distinct impression that he was not himself but a different person. A woman. One that he knew. But the image flickered out before he could place her. How could he…?

Shadow Walker returned his attention to the task at hand, the here and now. The more he looked in the eyes of this man, the less danger he felt. Suddenly, he spun around as one of the women spoke from right beside his ear.

“Thank you for helping Jaccim Nohan. I am called “The Cat-Eyed One,” for clear reasons.”

Shadow Walker looked at her wide-eyed and simply shook his head from side to side. “If you speak Veritas, why didn’t you say so, Cat-Eyed One?” And now, Shadow Walker could see that indeed, her pupils were as those of a cat.

“I had to learn whether or not it was safe to trust you. Once I was sure you meant us no malice, I thought I should let you know.”

Shadow Walker frowned, “But how? How do you know Veritas?”

“I was brought up in a branch of the Veritas over the snow mountains,” began Cat Eyes.

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“There is no such tribe! Not of Veritas! No-one has survived going over the snow mountains! There is legend of a band trying, but they all perished and never returned!”

Cat Eyes smiled. “And, if no-one else crossed the mountains and no-one returned, how do you know they all perished?”

Shadow Walker replied quickly, “Because they would have let us know! That is our way. To share knowledge!”

Cat Eyes smiled still more widely, “Indeed it is. And that is why I am sharing this knowledge with you. Though you seem rather an ungracious recipient,” she chuckled. “No, no. Patience, please. I will explain why no-one returned. On our ancestor’s journey, they crossed the mountains and some of that was on a sheet of solid ice. Once we had settled in a fertile valley, far beyond the snow mountains, and were sure that we were secure and not beset by enemies or disease and would survive, we sent a party up to re-cross and re-connect with our center place. But they came back saddened to tell us that the solid ice sheet was no longer solid at all. It was too treacherous to cross. The leader of their band stepped on ice and it broke, he begin to slip through a crack. His hands grabbed frantically at the edge as he slid down. His friends could hear his screams — which thankfully only lasted a few long minutes — and that scream arose from a place far, far below.

“After that, people were very cautious and tested the ice and walked with long poles, but the ice never improved. In fact, it got worse every year. I suppose some day, the ice may be totally melted and then we could make our way on dirt or, more likely, mud.”

Shadow Walker listened and began to take seriously this notion that he had close cousins he had not been known about. “But then, Eyes of Cat, how did you get here?”

Cat Eyes nodded and her face grew grim; her voice, quiet. “I was stolen. I was a child. They came on their horses and took me. I don’t really know whether anyone cared enough to try to track me… or…” Her voice trailed off.

Shadow Walker still didn’t understand why someone would steal children. “But why did they steal you from your own family? I don’t — that’s what happened to Tu-Swift as well. Why?”

Cat Eyes replied, “I recognize Tu-Swift. I knew he was Veritas and that he too had been stolen. But I never had an opportunity — the freedom — to contact him. You see, the ROI stole me to be a slave.”

Shadow Walker sighed. “I still don’t see why they would bother to go to all the trouble to steal someone else’s child. It makes no sense. Can’t they just use their own children? They are called the ‘ROI’?”

Cat Eyes sighed as well. “Yes. That’s what they call themselves The ROI. Don’t you see? They use us for things they never want their own children to experience. They did things to me that they would never do to their own children.”

—————————————————

The Myths of the Veritas: Book Two.

How Social Media Might Exaggerate Division.

City Living vs. Country Living.

What About the Butter Dish?

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Truth Train

The Con Con’s Special Friend

Poker Chips

Tu-Swift’s Vengeance

20 Friday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

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courage, empathy, ethics, fiction, Justice, leadership, legend, mercy, myth, short story, story, Veritas, writing

Tu-Swift heard something and dropped to the ground instinctively. He nearly screamed aloud from the sudden explosion of sparkling white pain that shot through his knee. He panted to help squelch his scream and reduce the pain. He stared through a gap in some fencing. His body now flooded with adrenalin, his thoughts once again raced ahead. What was that furry thing in the distance?

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Wolves! Of course, he thought. Lucky I am downwind! They will be hungry and looking for food. These appeared to be mere pups. They don’t send pups out first. Perhaps the pack has all been destroyed in the fire and only these two — wait! Those are the ones Many Paths befriended! And there’s Shadow Walker! He’s limping. What happened to him? And what is he…he glanced at his own sword. He’s got one of these. But Shadow Walker was being cautious. Perhaps he sees more wolves? Or, the People Who Steal Children?

Just then, Shadow Walker begin secret whistle-talking, hiding his message in the surrounding birdsong, much as a stalking cat creeps hidden in the tall grass and only moves when the wind sighs. Shadow Walker was asking whether Tu-Swift was there. Tu-Swift nearly shouted out that he was here, but caught himself just in time. He whistled back that he was here and asked if it was okay to come out of hiding.

Shadow Walker whistled back that to be cautious but to make yourself visible to me and I will make myself visible to you.

Tu-Swift now smiled. His smile widened. He was so happy, it took him three tries to purse his lips enough to whistle back: “You are already visible to me.”

Shadow Walker snorted and then he really laughed aloud. He knew it to be rash but he had been so tense, frightened, worried, angry for so long that the relief came unbidden.

In body, both of these Veritas were hobble-legged and jerky; they nonetheless closed the gap between them quickly, but not so quickly as the wolf pups who were at Tu-Swift in a flash. He smiled deeply at their obvious joy in seeing him again. He felt his shoulders and neck relax. Then, he fell into a long embrace with Shadow Walker. They felt such mutual relief in their reunion that thoughts of the dark and evil days they had just lived through did not invade the consciousness of either one of them for a time. Yet, both of them held fast to the hilts of their new-found swords.

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Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift both began to speak at once. Then, out of mutual respect, both stopped. Shadow Walker stopped out of respect to the exuberance that emanates and animates the young in general and to the survival of Tu-Swift. Tu-Swift respected the age and experience of Shadow Walker.

After a pause, Tu-Swift began again, “What happened to you? Where are the others? Are there more of the People Who Steal Children still about? Did you see any horses? How is Day-Nah?”

Shadow Walker smiled and put up his hand. “Wait. Wait. I have questions for you as well, but quickly and one at a time, I will try to answer yours first. I sprained my ankle running from the fire. I don’t know about Eagle Eyes and Lion Slayer. So far as I know Day-Nah is okay, heading back to our Center place with Fleet of Foot, Easy Tears, and Hudah Salah. I did slay one of the People Who Steal Children on the way here. But wait. You asked whether there were any more. Did you see some?”

“Oh, yes. There are four under the armory, or what used to be the armory. Three women and one badly wounded man. He was one of the ones who oversaw me when I worked with the horses. I came out here to find some yellow dock to staunch his wounds.”

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Shadow Walker shook his head. “What? Four of them? What sorts of weapons do they have? Why are you helping them? This man who enslaved you?”

“They have no weapons,” Tu-Swift began. “He — he’s hurt — and in a lot of pain. I don’t think he’s a threat. These are not really soldiers. They are…just people. They could not outrun the fire. They managed to survive in the cellar beneath the armory. Should I not heal him? But anyway, there is nothing growing anywhere near. I can’t travel far as yet. I fell badly and twisted my knee.”

Shadow Walker nodded. “Ah, those odd tracks were your odd tracks. Crutch and all. Where did you get one of these?” He held aloft his sword and regarded it, still impressed at the feel of it.

Tu-Swift replied. “It was in the armory. It is sharp! But also — so hard. I think it would slice right through most of our weapons. How did you get yours?”

Shadow Walker’s tone became somber as he answered, “One of the People Who Steal Children came at me with it. I had no weapon to speak of. I was lucky to survive. He fell onto a sharp tree stump and perished. I helped him end his life more quickly.”

Tu-Swift looked into Shadow Walker’s eyes and said softly, “So, you also believe in mercy for our enemies?”

Shadow Walker frowned. “I’m not sure. But let’s see these People Who Live in Cellars and find out what their story is. Lead the way.”

Tu-Swift began hobbling toward the armory. After a few feet, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Shadow Walker held out a bunch of dried leaves.

Tu-Swift exclaimed, “Yellow dock! But where did you get it?”

Shadow Walker, “Not around here. When I escaped the fire, I found some near a creek to help heal my sprain. I’m not that swollen or pained any more, though I still cannot really walk very well. You can use this on your friend.”

It was Tu-Swift’s turn to frown. “I would not call him my friend. He was the least cruel of the three main overseers we had. And he was almost decent to the horses too. Almost. Anyway, if we have the power to heal, it seems we should. I’m sure that’s what Many Paths would do.”

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Shadow Walker sighed a long sigh. “Are you sure? I’m not. She just became leader and one disaster after another has befallen the Veritas. You were stolen. Several of our guards were murdered. Somewhere in this land, there are eight of us. But I only see you. You are the only one I can be certain is still alive. I’m not so sure Many Paths would chose mercy for any of the People Who Steal Children. Do they really deserve it?”

“You could be right, Shadow Walker. One cannot ever know for certain how someone else will react to the pressure of the moment. But she did once say to me that mercy that is deserved is not really mercy. It is fairness. It is justice. But it is not mercy.”

They had arrived at the entrance to the armory. Shadow Walker placed his arm on Tu-Swift. “You may be right, Tu-Swift, but I know one thing for certain. Many Paths would think for a long time of all the pros and cons before taking action, right?”

Tu-Swift chuckled. “I get your point. Sometimes she does go on and on and on about various possibilities. But when it’s necessary to act quickly, she acts. She doesn’t always discuss. Her natural bent is toward kindness to all things.”

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Shadow Walker nodded slowly. “Yes. You’re right. Look, this may yet be a trap. Let me stand here while you pull up the cellar door. That handle…”

“Yes, it’s the same weird stuff our swords are made of. I know. Okay, here, let me ease down and I’ll pull it open. But I don’t think you will face a hail of arrows or the tip of a sword, although I am sure Many Paths would advise us to be prepared for anything!”

Shadow Walker smiled at Tu-Swift. “Agreed.”

Tu-Swift pulled on the cold, hard ring of the trap door. Slowly, it creaked open.

————————————————————————-

The Creation Myth of the Veritas.

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man.

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field.

The Beginning of Book One.

The Beginning of Book Two.

The Pros and Cons of AI.

What About the Butter Dish?

Eagle Eyes Eyes an Eagle

18 Wednesday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, psychology, Veritas

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fiction, forest fire, leadership, legend, life, myth, problem solving, ROI, story, Veritas, writing

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Eagle Eyes ran desperately to escape the flames that chased her down the hill. Her eyes burned from the smoke, but she hated the lack of visibility more than the pain. She needed to run quickly and yet, could hardly see her next footfall. So much for having the eyes of an eagle a tiny voice in her head said scornfully. She might or might not break a leg, she calculated, but being eaten by the fire would surely kill her, so on she ran. For a moment, the wind shifted and she could see a clear path before her with only a small fire to avoid and she ran even faster in that direction. Suddenly, the path before her burst into a wall of flames. She looked around desperately and caught a glimpse of another person off to her right. She couldn’t tell who it was in the murky air, but whoever it was seemed to be running directly away from her. She turned and ran in that direction.

The shadowy figure before her suddenly veered to the right, stopped, spun around and ran off at a different angle. She ran toward the shadowy figure. She soon outdistanced the flames and found herself doubled over, gasping for air in a grassy field that was unscathed by fire. Even better, she breathed clean air. She thought of how grateful she was and suddenly collapsed.

When she regained consciousness, she found herself on her belly. She raised her head, glanced down and saw human feet right beside her. She jumped and spun into a defensive combat posture. Eagle Eyes took in the posture and bearing of her enemy and had decided where to strike when a voice yelled “Stop!” She recognized the voice. It was her own voice, echoing in her head. She felt faint.

The man before her was Lion Slayer. He was trying to smile at her but grimacing in obvious pain.

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“Ah, Lion Slayer. Well met. Sorry, I thought you were…I guess I thought you were one of those who steals children.”

“I understand. I was also terrified! Because of this.” He held up his injured arm. “And worse. We could be both crisply burned to a crisp. What of the others? Have you seen them?”

Both of them looked toward the open, undamaged field that lay before them. Neither saw any sign of their compatriots. Then, they turned and regarded the crest of the hill behind them. It lay a charred ruin and behind that they could see towering flames and billowing black smoke. They turned and looked at each other.

Eagle Eyes frowned. “Should we go back for them?”

Lion Slayer looked down. “I would like to. Of course. But we were very lucky to escape those flames once. We will do them no good dead.”

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Eagle Eyes considered. With a sudden shudder, she recalled running through the flaming field, unable to draw breath, unable to see more than a few feet in front of her. “I hate fire. At least this kind of uncontrolled fire. It destroyed everything and everyone. I hate fire arrows.”

Lion Slayer nodded. “As do I. Eventually, it will burn itself out and I will find Hudah Salah. And the others. But now, we should move even farther away. The wind can shift again and bring the fire this way and this time, we might not be so lucky.”

Eagle Eyes also nodded. “We must be wary as well to be on the lookout for the People Who Steal Children. If we escaped, some of those might have as well. And our friends. Come, let me tend to your wounds when we get down there. Beyond that creek, there are trees. On the far side of the creek we may find jewelweed or yellow dock to help with your burns.” Here she pointed off in the distance and began walking. Lion Slayer walked beside her, constantly scanning the horizon for enemies of the human variety or of the fiery variety.

“I see some far trees. I do not know these plants, jewelweed and jello dock, but we have a kind of cactus — we put the jelly on burns.”

The eyes of Eagle Eyes brightened, “Oh, yes, I know that one. You brought some on your visit! But I don’t think it grows near here. It’s ‘yellow dock’ by the way, not ‘jello dock’.”

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“Oh, sorry, yes. I wasn’t sure anyone noticed the gifts we brought. Perhaps you have no need of such things. We call it ‘aloe’.”

“Oh, yes, all of the Veritas were grateful for your gifts. I especially thought those…what did you call them? ‘Scarves’? They were quite attractive!”

“Like this one?” He pulled out from his robe a finely made scarf and held it out to her. It looked to have originally been blue and white, but now it was mostly black. “I found it easier to breathe through this. It keeps out very many of the smoke. We use them for times when the desert sands rise up in deadly anger.”

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Presently, they arrived at the creek. Sure enough, on the far side, yellow dock grew in abundance. Finding a long-abandoned campsite near the margin of the woods, Eagle Eyes made a cold wrapping of boiled leaves. To cool them quickly and more completely, she swung them in the air until they were cold to the touch. She gently laid them on the blistered skin of Lion Slayer. She was surprised that he hardly flinched. She glanced back across the creek and saw a group of people. She hoped it was Fleet of Foot. And, the others, of course. She tapped Lion Slayer on the shoulder and put her finger to her lips for quiet. She gestured for him to turn and look. He did so, stood, and began to shout, “Hudah! Hu-mmmph!”

Eagle Eyes sprang up in a flash and clamped her hand over his mouth. She put her mouth right next to his ear and, in a loud whisper said, “Wait! There are too many. Those are the People Who Steal Children!”

Lion Slayer turned looking back and forth between the figures on the horizon and Eagle Eyes. She appeared so insistent, gesturing him to get back behind the cover of nearby trees. He backed away into the trees. When they were in a fair distance but could still look out he turned again, “You cannot count how many there are! Not from here. Hudah may be there!”

Eagle Eyes put her finger to her lips to signal quiet. She whispered again. “I can count them from here. Twenty have passed by and more are still passing.”

“But then, our friends may have been captured!” he protested.

“I doubt that very much. So far, no-one resembling Fleet of Foot or any of our friends have passed by. And Fleet of Foot would probably rather fling himself into the fire than be captured. That man loves his freedom, believe me. I know him well.” For some reason, she blushed after she said this and her hands became sweaty. She glanced away from the horizon into the deep dark eyes of Lion Tamer.

She stammered out, “I mean, Shadow Walker’s probably much the same. And you. Wouldn’t you rather die in the fire than be captured?”

“No. I would fight. I hate captured. But hate fire burning more. This hurts!”

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At least he’s whispering now, thought Eagle Eyes. Maybe he’s trainable. Anyway, that’s not my job. My job is to look for our friends. But now, there are too many together. I cannot really see everyone. But we must remain here until…. She decided to share her thoughts with her comrade. “I cannot get a good look at everyone. There are too many. But if our friends are there, I can tell you that they are definitely captured and vastly outnumbered. Once they all pass by, maybe we can follow their trail and we will get a better chance to see about our friends.”

When Eagle Eyes saw that there were no more passing by, she signaled Lion Tamer to follow her. He frowned and whispered, “It’s dangerous. Let me lead.”

Eagle Eyes nearly laughed aloud but stifled herself. “It much much more dangerous if you lead. I can see better. Oh, don’t make that look. You know it’s true.”

Lion Tamer sighed. He knew it was true, but somehow, he felt he should go first. It was how things were done. But not by the Veritas, he reminded himself. Their leader is a woman. Without a very good record so far, he thought silently.

Eagle Eyes got down on all fours and began creeping up the hill at an angle. She turned, put her fingers to her lips and gestured Lion Tamer to get down. He did so and they slowly moved forward through the tall grass whenever the wind came up. She turned to to say something and Lion Tamer was not there! She looked all around and then saw him coming through the grass. She crept up to him and whispered, “Stay close. Where you can see me. And hear my whispers. We don’t want to be found out. Stay close!”

Lion Tamer followed his instructions, but it made him very uncomfortable. He could see her only all too well. Much of her clothing had been burned. And Veritas women wore hardly more than men did. At her insistence, he was so close, he could not only see her, but smell her as well. And, he liked it. A lot.

Lion Tamer sighed. He thought to himself that he must put this out of his mind, at least for now. If they were discovered, they might or might not be able to outrun their enemies. Eagle Eyes stopped and held up her hand behind her. She turned and put her mouth near the ear of Lion Tamer. She whispered. “We are close enough for now. They have no horses. None. And they are not very well organized. I think it most likely that they simply ran from their village. I still see no sign of our friends, but we will creep closer after nightfall if conditions are right. Come.” She gestured toward a small gully overgrown with weeds.

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He lay next to her, without touching her, but close enough to feel the heat of her body. He reminded himself of his wife, Hudah. How would he feel if he survived this fire and she did not? He hoped he did not have to discover the answer to that question. Hudah suited him just fine, though the Veritas women intrigued him. And this one…her eyes were not only effective, but deep and beautiful.

Something caught those deep and beautiful eyes and she glanced up. An eagle circled above, its majestic wings reflecting a red glow from flames burning. Eagle Eyes made an incredibly high pitched whistle. The eagle immediately banked left out of its circle and descended rapidly toward them. Eagle Eyes heard Lion Slayer gasp beside her and she lay her fingers on his lips to hush him. She slowly drew a piece of dried meat from a pouch. She gathered much of the cloth that remained and wrapped it quickly around her forearm just before the eagle alit upon it. She whispered to it gently as she fed it the meat. Eagle Eyes tore a tiny strip of blue cloth from her garment and wrapped around one of the eagle’s legs, whispering gently as she did so. The eagle stared at her as she said, “Go home. Go home. Go home.” The eagle finished the meat and flapped back up into the sky.

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She turned to look at Lion Slayer, whose mouth lay agape below staring eyes.

“Will that work?!” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ve trained many eagles. Luckily, this was one of them. But I can’t say for certain.”

“You are an amazing … you are amazing,” said Lion Slayer, shaking his head slowly from side to side.

——————————-

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Parable of the Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: Beginning of Book One

The Myths of the Veritas: Beginning of Book Two

Me and the Crows

At Least He’s Our Monster!

Pattern Language for Cooperation and Collaboration

Life Will Find a Way

The Ninja Cat Manual

The Ashes of ROI

14 Saturday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, management, psychology, Veritas

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coping, fantasy, fiction, greed, grit, legend, life, mercy, myth, politics, ROI, short story, story, Veritas, writing

The make-shift crutch that Tu-Swift fashioned for himself worked pretty well. He made a few adjustments along the way; for example, roughening up the grip so his hand wouldn’t slip and tying some sphagnum moss round the upper cross-piece. Tu-Swift forced himself to use all his skills to remain unseen. It felt to him that this was a complete waste of time, but he did it because tingles of intuition can be accurate…or they can be completely misleading. At least, that’s what She Who Saves Many Lives said and so did Many Paths.

Suddenly the image of Many Paths playing “Stalked and Stalker” with him last autumn flashed into his mind. It burned so vividly that he could smell the autumn leaves. She had hidden beneath the hanging roots of an over-turned tree. Many Paths had also obliterated any sign of her path. Instead of searching, Tu-Swift had closed his eyes and imagined he was Many Paths. Then, he opened his eyes and scanned them over the landscape, not to find Many Paths but to be Many Paths trying to find herself a good hiding place. The first place he had spotted was the over-turned tree. Indeed, Tu-Swift had found her very quickly. He had explained his intuition; he had been quite proud of it. Many Paths, however, praised him but then also warned him that such intuitions were not always correct. It’s fine to try but don’t assume it will always work or be accurate, she had warned.

Tu-Swift brought himself back to the present. Hadn’t he been half day-dreaming when the People Who Steal Children kidnapped him? Perhaps if he had been more vigilant…. And yet, he could not shake the eerie feeling that he alone existed in the entire universe. His plan for pre-cooked meat soon revealed itself to be smoke.

He found many small cooked animal corpses all right and one burned deer, but they were all burned to a crisp. They were nearly indistinguishable from the corpses of fallen trees. I will continue to be wary, he promised himself, but if I were one of The People Who Steal Children and I saw a forest fire coming my way, I would not head back out into the forest and plain! I would try to get away from it. Head for dessert or water. I might grab a few things, but I’d be trying to save my life. I wouldn’t be interested in organizing or joining a search party for some missing kids. Not even ones that are mischievous enough to let out your horses. Well, they would be pretty upset about that one. Yes, they might put a price on my head for that. But they may not even know it was me. Unless they captured Day-Nah.

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Day-Nah, Shadow Walker, Fleet-of-Foot — who knew whether any of them were okay? I barely outran the fire myself and I’m already one of the fastest in the village. Well, not now, maybe, but I was. And, soon will be again. I hope. What if…what if I can’t run? Bear Bite used to be a fast runner too. But never after that bear chewed the back of his leg. So, some injuries you never get over. All the more reason for continued caution.

What Tu-Swift now lacked in mobility, he attempted to compensate for with thoughtfulness. Despite having the feeling that the woods were empty, he constantly scanned the surrounding area, not only for signs of approaching enemies but also for possible hiding places for himself and for places that would not be thought of by The People Who Steal Children.

In this tense manner, Tu-Swift continued to hobble through the margin of the burned forest until he found himself at the edge of the very village he had worked so hard to escape. The entire area looked like the morning after a giant’s campfire. Parts of many building stood, charred and darkened spikes; they were everywhere. He could see one blackened side of the barn still standing. Tu-Swift began to walk toward it when he heard a moan. It could be a trap he thought.

Tu-Swift turned his head this way and that. He thought to himself: That the sound seemed to be coming from the remains of building where I put the broken quills and bows. Speaking of which, what weapon do I have? I can use the sharp rock I brought with me. And, the crutch which I could use as a club or as a thrusting weapon. There were more weapons in that room. At least, I think so. They may have all been taken out.

As he cautiously hobbled toward the entrance, Tu-Swift heard the moaning growing louder.

More likely than a trick, he thought, would be a survivor of the fire, badly burned or broken, but still possibly quite dangerous. I can’t really count on anything, Tu-Swift thought to himself. You can be sitting at a feast enjoying yourself and then you wake up in a cell. These people kidnapped me. They stole Day-Nah as well and they are mean to the horses. Why do they steal kids? Whoever it is, they can suffer in pain. In fact, I might be able to add to it. Why don’t they leave other people alone?

By the time Tu-Swift reached what used to be the doorway of the armory, he had managed to generate a good deal of hate toward the moaner. Tu-Swift had imagined cautiously peering in as he opened the door, sharp rock at the ready. But there was no need. Part of the door and frame remained standing but there was a wide gap on either side. He peered into the charred skeleton of the building. His eyes fastened upon something on the far wall. As he drew nearer, he could see that it was a sword. A far better weapon, he thought, than a sharp rock. Using it and the crutch will be a challenge, he thought. He picked it up and felt the blade.

It was sharp like the Veritas weapons, but it was smooth; it was even. It felt immensely powerful in his hand. Tu-Swift again heard the moan and it seemed to be emanating from the earth below him. After hobbling about in the mostly empty armory, Tu-Swift found a large door ring on the floor. It seemed to be fashioned from the same kind of stuff as his newly acquired sword. He pulled up the door and he could see a staircase before him. He lay on the floor and peered over the edge. He could see four shadowy figures who seemed to wave about in the dim light. They began talking excitedly or some of them did. The moaning continued. One of them drew near and Tu-Swift clutched his sword more tightly.

Even in the dim light, Tu-Swift could see that a beautiful young women stood below him talking. But he had no idea what she was saying. It was that same language all these child-stealers spoke. Maybe he should kill her, but he didn’t really feel like it. Two more figures joined the young lady. They were all female. But one figure, the moaning figure, remained rolling and writhing on the floor in the shadows.

Suddenly, Tu-Swift recognized the voice despite it’s inhuman quality. It was the one that he and Day-Nah had called “The Fat Man.” He had actually been the nicest of the three that made them cull horses and shovel manure, but he was one of them – the People who Steal Children. He had a sudden vision of ending the man’s life by thrusting his sword through his belly button. For a split-second, Tu-Swift recalled that image of himself on the right when his mind had been trifurcated. He pushed that image aside.

Tu-Swift slowly descended the staircase, awkwardly carrying his crutch and sword with him. When he reached the bottom, he gestured for the three women to move away from him. Cautiously glancing all around, he made his way over to The Fat Man. His young eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light. The Fat Man turned toward him and Tu-Swift nearly vomited at the sight. He had never seen someone with such a disfigured face. Once again, he was tempted, this time out of mercy more than anger, to end this man’s anguish. He looked into his eyes. It was one thing to hate an enemy in one’s mind and even kill them there — but it was quite another to look your enemy in the eye and kill him in real life.

Instead of thrusting a sword through the belly of The Fat Man, he gestured to him that he would go and come back with some plants to help heal his body. All four of the People Who Steal Children were now jabbering at him. It seemed they were asking questions, but he couldn’t even be sure of that. I should really learn more languages, he scolded himself.

Tu-Swift ascended the staircase, this time sitting on the stairs and going up one at a time. He had a plan of which plants to gather. He had noticed them near the corral. Once he made his way back outside however, he surveyed the camp and realized that these herbs would have been destroyed along with everything else. Trees, buildings, animals, plants, healing herbs, beautiful flowers, food supplies — it had all been destroyed. Tu-Swift promised himself that he would collect a small piece of charred wood to remind himself of the destructive power of fire — and of greed and lying — as personified in the Myth of the Orange Man. If he ever returned to the Veritas Center Place, he swore he would look at it every day and remember the face of The Fat Man.

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———————————

The Myth of the Orange Man

The Start of the Myths of the Veritas

The Beginning of Book Two of the Myths of the Veritas

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

The Crows and Me

We Won the War! We Won the War!

There Never Was a Civil War

Who Won the War?

Peace

Guernica

Imagine All the People…

The Dance of Billions

Slow Tu-Swift

14 Saturday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, management, psychology, Veritas

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ethics, fantasy, fiction, grit, healing, leadership, legend, myth, story, strategy, survival, tactics, Veritas, writing

Slow Tu-Swift

When Tu-Swift awoke, he did so as one unified consciousness. That is not to say that he was fine; in fact, tremendous pain wracked his knee, and confusion reigned supreme.

His first thought: I’m blind! No, he thought, that’s not right. But where am I? It’s so dark.

Pain coursed through his arm and his neck seemed frozen. At last, he wiggled himself into a position from which he could free his pinned arm and look up at a sliver of night sky. He blinked at the starry array and began to recall where he lay and how he had come to be here.

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He sighed deeply and thought of Many Paths. Just when it appeared that Shadow Walker and others had come to return Tu-Swift to Many Paths, they had been attacked and that attack had caused a great fire that almost consumed him. Running blindly, he had badly injured his knee. He had no idea where his tribe mates were. Had they perished in the fire? What about Day-Nah? Apart from feeling sore and burned in several places, Tu-Swift realized he was extremely thirsty. He heard the sound of rushing water nearby and recalled having escaped into the water just yesterday. Was it yesterday, he wondered. He realized he actually had little idea how long he had been scrunched into the rock cleft.

He crawled on hands and knee toward the sound of the water, managing with his strong arms to keep almost all the weight off his badly swollen right knee. Once Tu-Swift had slaked his thirst, he realized that he was also damned hungry. Things must progress in the proper order, he reminded himself. I must try to find the others.

He considered yelling out the names of his rescuers. Don’t be a fool, he thought. I might be surrounded by warriors of the People Who Steal Children. Tu-Swift realized that if the others were near and they were certain it was safe, they would be calling for him. The dawn’s first light chased away the stars and gave a rosy glow all about.

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I will go to higher ground, cautiously to see what I see, thought Tu-Swift. But first I need to do something about my knee. Tu-Swift, like all the Veritas, had an extensive knowledge of plants. The knee slowed his gathering considerably but by the time it was fully light, he had gathered the necessary herbs including the leaves of witch hazel, plantain, and blackberry. Gathering sufficient firewood and tinder proved more difficult, but at last Tu-Swift had a warm fire going with the cliff face behind him and a hastily made rock reflector between him and the river. He created a poultice and also drank from the water. He alternately put hot leaves on his knee and then splashed it with the icy cold water. On one of these splashings he noticed aquatic arrowheads growing in a pool of clear by unflowing water. He recalled seeing Many Paths and some of her friends gathering the roots of these aquatic plants with their feet. But he had never actually done it. It would require him to stand, at least if he gathered them as he had seen. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the water could help support his weight. Before long, he had gathered up a nice dinner of arrowhead tubers.

He felt his knee carefully and found that something was not just sore or injured but definitely out of place. Due to the swelling, it was subtle, but he could also see that something stuck out differently. He muttered aloud to his knee, “Come on, knee! I need you! Heal!” Then it seemed the knee spoke back, not in words exactly, but the image of something painted itself vividly in Tu-Swift’s mind and at the same time, he had a powerful desire to perform that same act.

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He searched for and found a suitable place among the rocks. He lay on his back with his right ankle wedged into a cleft in the rock. His left leg, half bent, pushed his body powerfully back. This was it. Yes, this is it, he thought. He felt something stretch and snap in his knee, popping as it found its rightful place again. His knee still hurt. In fact, it hurt a bit more. But it felt more as it should; more according to natural order.

Tu-Swift made himself a simple crutch from a large sapling which was dead but still hard. He hobbled back up the hill that he had run down. Everywhere he looked, the ground was black and trackless. More than the hill lay in a lifeless black ruin. The nearby forest had been destroyed.

Where are my friends? What has become of the people who sit astride horses? When he saw no sign of anyone, he hobbled back down the hill. He attempted to communicate to any nearby Veritas that he was here. He used a stick drum and he used bird whistles. No response. He considered yet again screaming out their names but the thought of being recaptured by the People Who Steal Children sent shivers through his core and made him nauseous.

He had no way of knowing for certain, but from what little had been said during his escape, he guessed that the camp of the Veritas was 3-4 times as far away as the place of his captivity. The urge to head home was overwhelming, but as he thought of all the possible scenarios and the likelihood of each, he decided going into the smoldering forest and from there to the village of the People Who Steal Children would be the best. Naturally, if there were any signs at all that his captors were anywhere about, he would hide as best he could. He hoped to find some yet edible meat, already cooked in the forest.

Even in his gimpiness, he limped his way to the center place of The People Who Steal Children in a single day’s hobble. Of course, Tu-Swift had seen many times what was left of a camp fire. But he could not really scale it in his mind until today. He thought back to the Myth of the Orange Man and felt a deeper sense of what that had really meant — a whole tribe wiped out to assuage the unassuageable greed of the Orange Man. And, of course, the Orange Man himself.

He considered: Wasn’t this really just the same? Why would a people steal the children of another — except for some sort of greed? Something remained badly out of joint, and it was his curiosity to find out what that was. What clues, he wondered, might lay among the ashes of this strange and greedy people? Did they all perish? Or did they some escape? These are the mysteries Tu-Swift set out to explore; but what he actually found? Those were mysteries of a quite different sort.

————————————————————-

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The First Ring of Empathy (The beginning of The Myths of the Veritas)

At Least He’s Our Monster

Absolute is Not Just a Vodka

Wednesday

Happy Talk Lies

The Loud Defense of Untenable Positions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

BRA-BRILL’s Audience with NUT-PI

11 Wednesday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, psychology, Veritas

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cruelty, cursing, fantasy, fiction, free, greed, leadership, legend, myth, power, religion, ROI, story, Veritas, writing

{Translator’s Note}: Among the ROI, the Z-LOTZ and the Veritas, swear words, as best we can tell, refer to religion, excretion or procreation. At least among the tribes that I’ve studied, no-one swears by referring to ingestion, coagulation, thinking, moving muscles, or other functional aspects of life. However, it appears that the different tribes varied in their preferred choice of swear words; I will not bother to translate these directly into their English counterparts; instead, I’ll use a more “polite” word but you will know doubt be able to tell what was really meant. These tribes all seemed to have shared another odd trait. They actually used both crude and polite forms of cursing. It was considered more powerful and more satisfying to use the “polite” forms. It showed, so the reasoning went, that you were fully aware of the fact that you were cursing; that you were still in charge of your faculties.

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One of BRA-BRILL’s lieutenants rushed up to BRA-BRILL. “Sire, we must slow down a bit. The women and children are having trouble keeping up. There may be further Veritas about who would capture our women and children for their own purposes. For that matter, so might the wolves. Might we take a short break so everyone can catch up?”

BRA-BRILL turned his lifeless eyes to his lieutenant. “Oh, thank you so much my fine lieutenant for bringing this to my attention! I did not realize that there were Veritas about. I did not realize that our entire procreating village has been destroyed! Thank a diety we have brilliant people about such as you to set me straight! You are nearly as valuable as an obstruction to a defecation! Come here. Come closer. Attaboy! Now, hand me your sword, you diety-forsaken ever-procreating excretion. Come on. Do it.”

The soldier realized he should have sent one of his own lackeys to make a suggestion. What the hell had he been thinking, making a suggestion himself? Maybe it was the shock of being awakened to an alarm and soon after being caught in a forest fire. Still…

BRA-BRILL took the sword and smiled, “Thank you. This is indeed a fine blade.” BRA-BRILL turned it in his hand and made a couple of sweeps with the sword through the air. “A fine weapon.” Suddenly, BRA-BRILL twirled the blade and struck the messenger across his thigh causing a substantial gash. The soldier fell heavily to the ground.

“Oops. My hand slipped. No matter. Now, you can serve some useful purpose. You there! And you! Come take this wounded soldier and tie him fast to yonder tree. Make sure he cannot escape. He will draw any wolves or lions off our trail and perhaps the Veritas may find him and torture him for some truth. Well, come to think of it, best to cut out his tongue as well.”

The soldier lay on the ground with his hand pressed to his thigh, trying to slow the escaping rivulet of blood. “NO, SIRE! No, please!”

BRA-BRILL loved it when he had a chance to mock others. In a fair imitation of a small child’s squeaky voice, he repeated, “No, sire. No, please!”

“You disgust me, bodily function, now go serve some useful purpose. I’m just following your advice, after all.” With this, he curtly motioned to the two guards to take him away and cut out his tongue. As the bleeding soldier was carried off to be set as wolf bait, he turned to see some of his people had stopped and stared. “Get back to marching! ALL of you! Unless you procreating anatomy-parts want to join procreating visage as procreating wolf bait!”

BRA-BRILL’s mood had improved considerably after this incident, but he knew that tough times lay ahead. NUT-PI was every bit as … focused … as he himself was. The truth was that BRA-BRILL was about to stop anyway, not so others could catch up but because he was exhausted. All the fine food he had had access to as well as the servants that did his bidding meant that he was now considerably overweight and walking any distance tired him quickly. “Procreating horses!” he muttered to no-one in particular. “How the mythical and horrid afterlife did all those procreating horses get away? Procreate!!”

BRA-BRILL liked swearing. It made him feel powerful. In this case, though, he had another purpose. He wanted to be all “sworn out” by the time they reached the city of the Z-LOTZ. They were all an odd lot and some of them objected to a person simply expressing themselves in the most natural way. He didn’t need that kind of trouble. He strongly suspected that NUT-PI believed none of the malarkey that the Z-LOTZ believed, or at least professed to believe. But that didn’t mean some jealous priest or other wouldn’t call BRA-BRILL out if he used profanity within the walls of their “Sacred City.”

“Sacred City. Hah!” BRA-BRILL sneered aloud at the idea. Just more horse manure for the weak-minded, he mused. “You there! Yes, YOU! Bring me some meat and bread and wine.”

The hapless youth who had been pointed at was not sure who, if anyone, had brought such provisions. This was not, after all, a planned and organized march. Usually, the ROI would have spent weeks planning a trip to see the Z-LOTZ. He had just witnessed the wrath of BRA-BRILL when irked. He would try to find something pleasing among the people and if he failed, he would sneak away into the woods and try his luck with the wolves rather than risk displeasing BRA-BRILL. “Yes, sire! I’ll be back soon!” He scampered off and began querying the ROI about provisions, making sure everyone knew that they were not for him but for their leader.

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A few day’s march brought the numerous throng of ROI to the city gates of the Z-LOTZ. They were hungry, thirsty, and exhausted, but all were ordered to remain outside. Word came that NUT-PI would see BRA-BRILL who must arrive unarmed and alone. When BRA-BRILL heard this, he began to sweat. He carefully slowed his breathing, but his bone dry mouth still tasted of metal. He muttered under his breath, “Procreating waste!” There was little for it though. He would have to comply. Though he had taken much more than his “fair share” of the provisions found among the ROI, he also felt hunger and thirst. So, he thrust his new sword into the ground and marched off to see NUT-PI, surrounded by four guards. Each sported a long pike and wore leather armor studded with metal.

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Soon, he stood in a courtyard before NUT-PI who sat upon a high chair. He tried to lick his lips and took a deep breath. “Well met, oh great NUT-PI! I bring you…”

“Silence,” NUT-PI said in little more than a bored whisper. “Speak to me again before I give you leave to do so and I will cut out your tongue as you did with your lieutenant.”

BRA-BRILL almost spoke again. Instead, he slammed his mouth shut, wondering how the painful afterlife NUT-PI found out about the lieutenant.

Again NUT-PI spoke softly. He hissed as he spoke, almost like a snake. “Come forward now and kneel before me.”

BRA-BRILL shambled forward and knelt in the sharp gravel in front of NUT-PI. NUT-PI regarded him coldly with unlit eyes. “Did you bring the required number of women and children as slaves?”

BRA-BRILL tried to swallow but couldn’t. “Close but also vital information, Sire.”

“Close?” NUT-PI snickered. “I asked you a simple question. Surely, even you have the intelligence to answer my question. I will say it slowly for you. Did. You. Bring. The. Required. Number. Of. Women. And. Children. As. Slaves? Yes or no?”

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BRA-BRILL tried to think but found it difficult when his knees hurt and his mouth was so dry. He decided that trying to be clever would be too risky. “No, Sire.”

“So you failed in the only task I asked you to accomplish. Is that right? You failed. Did you fail?”

“Yes, Sire. I failed.” BRA-BRILL looked down. He began to fantasize about cutting NUT-PI to pieces but shook it out of his mind.

NUT-PI smiled. “Well, it’s not your fault, after all. You have no real ability, do you?”

BRA-BRILL gritted his teeth together. “No, Sire. I do not.”

NUT-PI continued. “No, you do not. And now, not only have you failed to bring me the required number of slaves. You have allowed your village to be burned down. And, now you bring your entire people here…for what purpose? I suspect you wish to beg for food and water for them?”

BRA-BRILL saw a possible opening and decided to chance taking it. “Oh, Sire, no. It is true that we are hungry and thirsty but we ask for none of that. What we can do is offer up valuable information about a tribe that call themselves The Veritas. They came in great hordes to attack our village and burn it down. They destroyed many of our weapons and stole our horses as well. But we come to offer to help you hunt them down and destroy them. If you will accept our humble gift.”

NUT-PI sneered at BRA-BRILL with open contempt. NUT-PI began to drum his fingers on the arm of his large chair. He was in no hurry. After all, NUT-PI was not the one kneeling in sharp gravel. He gestured to one of his slaves and she brought over some grapes and bread. NUT-PI began slowly and sensually taking tiny bites of the food. He arranged his face into a large smile as he ate, chewing each bite over and over.

BRA-BRILL saw the world shrink and grow dark. Just as he was about to pass out, NUT-PI spoke again. “Guards, take this pathetic man back to his people, such as they are. Bring me the inadequate number of slaves here for me to take first picks. I will see whether any are capable of pleasing me. If there are, I will consider his entreaty for food and water. If not, well, if not, just take the slaves and use the rest of the ROI for target practice.”

BRA-BRILL tried to rise on his own, but he couldn’t make his legs move properly. He put his hands on the ground and pushed off with his hands, staggering to his feet. He was marched out of the presence of NUT-PI.

BRA-BRILL felt as though he had won a great victory. After all, he had escaped with his life, at least for now. He would find a way to oust NUT-PI and make him pay! He swore to himself that he would do that no matter what it took. For now, he would have to play a waiting game.

The guards unceremoniously threw BRA-BRILL to the ground and began rounding up the slaves to be taken before NUT-PI. Preparing slaves provided one of the most fun aspects of their jobs. They would oversee the cleaning and dressing of the slaves. Occasionally, they were rewarded with one to share.

At Least He’s Our Monster

The Orange Man

Orange Marmalade

The Mango Mussolini

We Won the War! We Won the War!

Poker Chips

Peace

Who Won the War?

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Myth of the Orange Man

Post Fire Blues

09 Monday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, management, psychology, Veritas

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Tags

cruelty, fantasy, fiction, forest fire, greed, innovation, leadership, legends, myth, narrative, rescue, ROI, search, short story, story, truth, Veritas, writing

BRILL-BRA was beside himself with rage. It became clear that his entire village would be destroyed. Damned Veritas, he thought, I will destroy every last one of them if it’s my last act on earth. People were in such a panic to grab their possessions and leave, many of his subjects were ignoring him. Him! A handful of soldiers helped him gather together the few children and quickly the small band headed out for the land of the Z-LOTZ. BRILL-BRA saw little choice but to throw his lot in with the Z-LOTZ. This carried its own risks because, even with the three young daughters of L-SIDNEY, he still fell short by two of the promised number of child slaves he was supposed to deliver before the next full moon. But BRILL-BRA had grown obese and soft. He had no desire to wander aimlessly and try to live off the land. Perhaps he could even find a way to overthrow NUT-PI and lead the numerous and obedient Z-LOTZ.

BRILL-BRA and his band of warriors and their captive children soon reached the lands they called, “The Dead Zone.” Almost nothing grew here. Ordinarily, the ROI avoided the place (as did all the tribes), but the shortest path to the cities of the Z-LOTZ lay through it. The days when BRILL-BRA enjoyed a long hike for the pleasure of it were long past. In this land of dirt and scattered rocks, falling sparks found nothing to feed on. While the Z-LOTZ believed “The Dead Zone” to be populated with the ghosts of long-dead ancestors, BRILL-BRA considered such superstition pure absurdity. He thought it most likely that such stories were concocted long ago to scare the children of the Z-LOTZ into submission. But, maybe the leaders believed all that bull crap. BRILL-BRA didn’t know and he didn’t care. He trudged on in a foul mood. He never even got a chance to torture L-SIDNEY. He began to curse loudly as he walked. They were barely two miles beyond the outskirts of their burning village when he ordered everyone to stop and rest.

He ordered one of his lackeys to bring one of the girls over to him. “Keep her hands tied behind her. I don’t trust her.” Soon it was done and the girl stood before him. BRILL-BRA considered that a little pleasuring from her would improve his mood and let him plot out his next moves. But what the hell was this? She was crying! “STOP CRYING!” he screamed, “or I will give you something to cry about! Why the hell are you crying?”

The girl shivered in fear, and her voice was choked, but she managed a weak, tremulous reply. “I don’t know where Daddy is. Our whole village has been burned up. Why are you not crying, oh great leader?”

Though these words were spoken in hardly more than a hoarse whisper, others had heard it. BRILL-BRA became flustered and embarrassed. “Because I am a man and men don’t cry. They build things and fix things. But you are beyond fixing!” He planted his foot in her belly and shoved her backwards. She fell back heavily and screamed in pain as she fell spraining her wrist which was trapped under her. Her head grazed a sharp rock and blood began to flow from her ear onto her disheveled ringlets. “Oh, CRAP!” screamed BRA-BRILL. NUT-PI always wanted the children delivered as tribute to be clean and uninjured so that he and he alone would be responsible for their various disfigurations and injuries.

BRILL-BRA yelled at one of his soldiers to “Stop the bleeding and clean this one up. Bring me another. And make sure she’s got a nice smile on her face and is not blubbering like a child!”

A thought flashed through the soldier’s mind: But she is a child. Naturally, he did not utter this aloud. He dutifully did as ordered. Soon, a still younger child was forced to kneel before BRILL-BRA.

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Tu-Swift raced downhill to escape the attacking flames. The thick smoke choked him and the air itself seemed to lack its very essence. He could not hear his comrades above the crackling of the fire nor see any sign of them. Suddenly, his foot landed wrong and he heard and felt a snapping within himself even above the roar of the raging fire. He heard a scream and landed hard on his stomach. He tried to breathe but couldn’t. Still the flames pursued him and he managed to rise to his hands and knees. He couldn’t stand upright. Something was wrong with his right leg. He scrambled on hands and knees to the edge of a stream and then into it. On the far side, he saw a large cliff coming right down to the water’s edge. He scrambled toward it. The cliff rock had split and he slipped into the large crack. He thought this would be as protected a space as he could find in his current condition. Surrounded by rock, scraped and scratched, he lay sideways in the cleft. Tu-Swift looked up at a sliver of blue sky above him. Tu-Swift wondered idly why the sky was blue now instead of black with smoke. He wondered who had screamed. He lost consciousness and began a tortured dream.

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Thanks to the translations of Salah Hudah, the remaining members of the Veritas rescue party discovered that Day-Nah did indeed belong to the Nomads of the South. A trading caravan had been attacked by those who steal children and many warriors had been killed on both sides. Day-Nah had been banged on the head and when he awoke, he was bouncing around on the back of a horse. He never saw his older sister nor his mother again. Soon after he awoke, he was shoved into a small wooden jail with Tu-Swift. Day-Nah related their days together and that Tu-Swift had sabotaged the bows and arrows of the people who stand atop horses and also contrived to set the horses free. He had no knowledge of what had happened to any of their missing party.

They spent another day searching for their missing compatriots again signaling by clacking sticks together and through coded bird calls but there were no answering calls and no drumbeats. The fire had destroyed all hope of their normal tracking methods. Even the wolf cubs proved to be unhelpful. The fire had apparently destroyed the scents of the missing, or perhaps simply overlain it with the smell of so much death and destruction that it obscured the odor of mere humans.

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Shadow Walker dreaded returning to the Veritas without Tu-Swift and with two more of their number missing. It seemed most likely that their friends had all died in the fire. It was also possible that all three or some of them had been captured by the ROI though they had not seen any of the ROI warriors, if that’s what they were, headed in their direction. Rather, when last seen, they were running back toward the ROI Village. Once there, they might have joined up with a much greater force and would now be marching out to find them and probably to continue on to the center place of the Veritas where they might wreak more death and destruction.

They had important information about these people who sit astride horses, these stealers of children. This information must be shared with the tribe. They must help the Veritas prepare for another attack. From Day-Nah’s story, it seemed clear that stealing children might be a way of life for these people. Many Paths needed to consult with everyone about choosing what to do about child stealers living so near them. When Shadow Walker thought of Many Paths a great gray sadness weighed upon his heart. Could he tell her that Tu-Swift had disappeared? What might her response be? He wondered whether she would now hate him forever and indeed, whether he could forgive himself. But the area of destruction was so vast that they could search for weeks without finding the remains of Tu-Swift and the others. Meanwhile, the people who steal children might be mounting a giant attack on the Veritas. If that were the case, it would be important that all of the Veritas learn as much as possible about these people who steal children.

Shadow Walker wished that he could discuss matters with Many Paths, or with She Who Saves Many Lives. He toyed with one of the rings of empathy, turning it this way and that in his hand. Somehow, he found comfort in knowing that Many Paths had such a ring as well. The substance of the ring reminded him of something. That something tickled at the edges of his mind. “The door!” he suddenly spoke aloud. That mysterious substance had been a cousin to this but much colder and much harder. For some reason he could not explain, this insight gave him confidence. He proposed that he would stay here alone and continue to search for their missing companions while the others returned with the news. He proposed to keep the wolf pups with him to aid in his searches. Perhaps once the stench of the burned grasses and trees subsided, the pups would be able to catch a scent. He would only slow them down if pursued on their journey home but hobbling slowly might be an actual advantage in searching for the missing trio.

And so it was that at the next dawning, Fleet-of-Foot, Hudah Salah, Day-Nah, and Easy Tears ate what would perhaps be their last meal with Shadow Walker and began their trek back to the homeland of the Veritas. Their hearts were filled with important information but also with heavy news about their friends. Shadow Walker watched the ever-diminishing image of his companions disappearing over the blackened hilltop. He would not see them for a time that might grow to forever.

He once again took out one of the Rings of Empathy and rolled it in his palm. He recalled a talk that he had had with Many Paths. She had jokingly told him how She Who Saves Many Lives, despite her aged body, could sneak up on someone unawares. According to Many Paths, She Who Saves Many Lives had laughed and explained how she managed the trick and Shadow Walker determined that he too could learn such a trick.

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He decided that he would carefully examine the area around the creek for signs of the missing three. He would contrive to become even more skillful at the art of Shadow Walking. He would, as had been suggested by She Who Saves Many Lives, move only when the wind moved. He would make himself smell of the forest or the plains. He would advance from shadow to shadow in the unpredictable and random way of life itself. He would watch the comings and goings of the people in the village so that he would appear to be one among them. In this way, he thought to sneak unseen, unheard, and unknown back into the village of the people who steal children. If found, he would release Tu-Swift again. One way or another, in his next meeting with Many Paths, he would bring her certain, if unpleasant, news. Or, he would never meet her again in this life. He might instead die trying to find the missing brother of Many Paths.

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The First Ring of Empathy (Start of Book 1 of the Myths of the Veritas)

The Start of Book 2 of the Myths of the Veritas

It was in his nature

The Crows and Me

At Least he’s Our Monster

Guernica

All we Stand to Lose

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

How Beautiful and Green

You Must Remember This

The Impossible

The Power of the Unbrella

Finger-Pointing among the ROI

05 Thursday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, management, psychology, Veritas

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blame, chaos, crisis, Dictatorship, fantasy, fiction, fire, governance, greed, leadership, legend, management, myth, religion, ROI, story, war, writing

Among the ROI, it was common for each person to become a specialist in one or two of the tasks of the tribe. One such person, named Jaccim Nohan, specialized in capturing children. Indeed, he had been one of those who had attacked the Veritas at high feast and had carried off Tu-Swift on the back of his horse. Between slave-gathering raids, he worked with the horses and when all the horses of the ROI had begun to run off, it fell to him and two others to attempt to recapture them. Most of the horses had run far south, but a few, perhaps attempting to reconnect with their foals, had instead galloped about the village adding to the general confusion.

Nohan ran after them to little avail. The noise made by the ROI themselves added to the terror of the horses. As one of them ran by, Nohan noticed that a fair length of frayed rope still trailed behind one of the chestnut mares. He thought to grab the rope and quickly wind it around a strong post. In this way he hoped to stop at least one horse from dangerously galloping to and fro among the villagers and soldiers.

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At first, his plan seemed to be working well. He grabbed the rope and the horse turned toward Nohan. The rope slackened and Nohan spotted a sturdy nearby post. He quickly grabbed the rope and began tying it in loops around the post. The horse reared up, spooked, and turned away in a panic. The horse broke the post in two and the loops of rope entangled around Nohan’s forearm. Suddenly, he found himself being dragged through the village. He tried several times to disentangle himself from the rope, all the while cursing himself and the horse.

Nohan’s clothing and then his skin disintegrated from the friction. The horse dragged him near the paddock and into a large pile of fresh manure that Tu-Swift and Day-Nah had constructed only a few days ago. The horse felt the tug and turned back to regard the situation. Nohan managed to free himself of his bonds before losing consciousness. The last thing he recalled was the chestnut mare pawing the air over him.

The ROI soldiers imagined that they were under attack from a large army and immediately sped to the place where their bows and arrows were kept. As each arrived, they looked in disbelief to see that all of their bows were gone! A few went inside the armory to retrieve swords and clubs. Inside they found a few bows in working order as well as some arrows. As hastily as a group of disorganized men who are used to being told what to do in a very organized fashion can, they gathered their weapons and headed to the barn to get atop horses to fight the enemy they thought numerous. But there were no horses to be had!

The head magistrate for the ROI, BRILL-BRA had been sound asleep after a long wine-filled orgy with several young slaves when the chaos began. He shook his head. That, he decided, was a mistake for a massive headache ensued. He threw on a robe and stumbled out into the square and saw the chaos. He wobbled unsteadily over to a large hunk of resonant metal which was suspended near a central dais and struck it hard. A few people nearby heard it and stopped their running uselessly about and came to the circle of benches near the large platform which BRILL-BRA had surmounted. He continued to ring the gong whose sound penetrated through the general din. More and more people began to stop their craziness and remember their discipline. Eventually, almost all the uninjured came to hear their leader’s orders.

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BRILL-BRA had no more idea what was happening than anyone else. But he recognized an opportunity to consolidate his power and so he took it. He “called on” various members of the ROI to explain what had happened, shushing anyone who was not “called on.” As the various members of the tribe spoke up, he began to piece together a picture of what had happened. The ROI had made many mistakes. The biggest blunder? Raiding the Veritas in the first place which had yielded only one potential slave. That slave had apparently managed to escape, taking another boy with him. Now, the ROI were short in their agreed upon number of slaves that they owed the Z-Lotz. Well, that was easily solved. He’ll find a scapegoat or two from among the ROI and take their children to make up the shortfall. More of that later, he thought. Apparently, there were no horses available right now, so he realized if they had any hope of recaptured the slave boys, he would have to send out a raiding party soon.

He asked for volunteers and was heartened to see that all the young men of sound body volunteered. Inwardly, he snickered yet again at how easily manipulated they all were. Outwardly though, he arranged his face as appropriate to moods of fear, and hatred, and occasionally belittling the enemy encouraging his own people to think that the Veritas had used witchcraft and magic to multiply the effectiveness of their vastly superior numbers. It would be in no-one’s interest, he rationalized, to let them know what he suspected — that a mere handful had thrown their village into such disarray. That handful would be tracked down and killed before long. Better yet, perhaps a few could be captured alive and tortured to death for the entertainment of his followers.

Painting by Pierce Morgan.

BRILL-BRA chose a party of a dozen men whom he knew to be fast runners and good archers. The rest would be posted as guards around the village. This move solidified the atmosphere of fear and hate that he wished to prolong as long as possible. His people, he knew, proved much easier to manipulate and lie to when he kept them in a near constant state of anxiety and anger. The attack group soon set off toward the Veritas central place. BRILL-BRA thought it likely the Veritas would choose the most direct path back toward their home. For his part, BRILL-BRA spent a few more minutes rousing his audience to fear and righteous indignation about an enemy who would use dark magic to overcome the obviously superior ROI people. He promised revenge and then, told the people to go and repair the village while he, BRILL-BRA would undertake the most difficult task of all — which was to determine who among them had been derelict in duty. Of course, this also had the desired effect of putting everyone on edge. For they knew that anyone could be so accused and the penalty would be severe, if not fatal.

Except for the dozen in the raiding party, the ROI worked to restore their village and to try to capture the escaped horses. For his part, BRILL-BRA spent a pleasant day interviewing candidates for his wrath. He had learned from NUT-PI, now the leader of the Z-LOTZ, the trick of making the suspects kneel on sharp gravel while he grilled them. Torturing his own people always put a smile on his face. With them kneeling before him, he always felt superior. And after all, he thought, I am superior. After all, they are the ones in pain and I am the one in charge. He smirked as they struggled to try to keep their composure and swear their loyalty to him while he pretended to consider what they said. After a long day of this, he finally feasted heartily and ordered some more slave children to be brought for his pleasure. This too, he enjoyed, not so much for the sex, per se, though that indeed was pleasurable, but more for the joy of knowing he had complete control over someone else’s body.

He woke in the morning to the glorious glow of sunrise, a sunrise unusually vivid and red. He ordered one of his personal guards to bring him the three daughters of L-SIDNEY. They were a bit on the young side, but he fancied them. He decided to blame L-SIDNEY for the fiasco, mainly because he wanted his three daughters. The choice was also easy to rationalize because L-SIDNEY had been one of the three men who had been responsible for training up the two male captives to help with the horses. Since the horses had escaped along with the two kids, it seemed only fitting to make him pay by giving him his daughters. It wasn’t strictly necessary to come up with an explanation like that, but it helped. It gave the ROI people the semblance of a rationale so that they would be more comfortable with what would otherwise merely seem like random cruelty.

Guernica by Picasso

BRILL-BRA also planned to take the daughters with him (once he tired of them) to help fill his quota for the Z-LOTZ. L-SIDNEY himself — BRILL-BRA toyed with various torture deaths. Slow burning was nice. Stoning was okay too, provided that people were only allowed small stones. NUT-PI had some wonderful ideas along these lines, many of which BRILL-BRA had never seen in person but was eager to try. As he nibbled on his food and fantasized about torturing L-SIDNEY, he vaguely noticed something odd about this morning’s sunrise. The crimson sky seemed to grow in intensity rather than diminish over time. And, then, there was that odd noise in the distance. It drew nearer. Well, he thought, someone else will take care of that. He laughed as he contemplated trying out the torture of growing bamboo shoots through the body.

His pleasant reverie was shattered by a shouting guard outside his cabin. He vowed to torture the guard as well. He stepped outside to find out who his second victim would be and then saw that the entire sky was red. At the southern edge of the village he could see flames devouring the fir trees. “CRAP!” he shouted. The guard screamed “FIRE!” and did not wait to take his leave. BRILL-BRA screamed more profanity and ran back inside to grab his small bag of precious stones and metals. The roar of the fire grew deafening and he could actually feel the heat. The ROI were running everywhere. They were too panicked to stop. BRILL-BRA ran too.

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Meanwhile, Jaccim Nohan awoke in great pain and confusion. He ached everywhere and his ample though shredded flesh ached. He crawled out of the large pile of horse manure and saw that the entire sky glowed red. Though still at some distance, he could feel the heat of the fire. He did not feel strong enough to make his broken body run. Into his mind flashed an image of the fruit cellar that lay beneath one corner of the large lodge used for dining and for storing weapons. It lay only forty yards upwind of the barn. He crawled as fast as he could just as the flames began to emerge from the fir forest. Adrenaline managed to help his broken body traverse the distance and crawl into the landing. From there, he sat on the stairway and used his hands to lower himself, step by step, into the fruit cellar. He did not know whether he could survive but he hoped so. In one corner was a cistern of water used to soften dried fruit and he wet some cloths and pulled them around himself and awaited his fate as the flames roared and cracked outside. Nohan’s pain so overwhelmed him that he felt unsure whether he wished the flames would spare him or consume him.

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At Least he’s Our Monster

The Orange Man

The Cancelled Flight to Crazytown

The Siren Song

The Dance of Billions

Fire Arrows

04 Wednesday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, psychology, Veritas

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environment, escape, fantasy, fiction, fire, hate, leadership, legend, life, myth, peace, politics, short story, story, strategy, tactics, Veritas, war, writing

Eagle Eyes suddenly put her hand up thus silencing Tu-Swift in his recounting. She pointed to a spot on the horizon. The others stared but saw nothing. She made the sign for “fire” and then pointed to another spot and again made the sign for “fire.” The sun now began to rise behind them but shadows still obscured the valley between their small party and the people who steal children. A cool breeze freshened behind their backs. All of the party trained their eyes on the places where Eagle Eyes pointed but nothing appeared to them. They stared into the valley below: grassland, scrubby trees, and on one side a forest of conifers. On the other side, another forest bordered with birches and aspens.

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The wind, they knew, would carry their voices as well as their scent so they deliberated in quiet. If they stood their ground here atop the hill, they would have some advantage in a fight. If their enemy approached on horses, they would not be able to outrun them. They might be better off to stay and fight from the high ground. Tu-Swift shot his hand out and nodded vigorously, making the sign for “fire.” He too saw these flashes of flames. Soon, the others detected these fires that multiplied and flickered in the nearby woods. Shadow Walker, Fleet of Foot, and Lion Slayer each strung one of the bows that Tu-Swift had stolen and lay arrows beside them, ready to shoot when the time came.

A hail of flaming arrows suddenly streamed toward them. Shadow Walker laughed. What a terrible aim they had, he thought to himself for he could see that the arrows would fall well behind them. Lion Slayer saw this as well, but he yelled at the others to run and follow him. “Fire!” he screamed and began to run down the hill away from the forest of evergreens toward the birches. Shadow Walker frowned for a moment thinking Lion Slayer a coward not to stand and fight. A jumble of thought-images flickered through his mind: Lion Slayer, lion, a lion slain, a fire, The Legend of the Orange Man and then he understood and urged everyone to follow.

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Shadow Walker understood that their enemy had not aimed at them but at the grassy expanse behind them. Even now, fire took hold in the dry grass and burned quickly up the hill behind them. Lion Slayer realized immediately that running away from the evergreen forest was their only hope. The entire party now ran headlong down the side of the hill away from the forest. Shadow Walker glanced back and could see their pursuers now emerging from the edge of the forest. He saw that they were not atop horses. Perhaps they could out run both them and the fire, but if they loosed another volley of arrows they could start a new fire. He stopped for a moment, turned back and picked up the small friend of Tu-Swift who was falling behind.

It seemed to Shadow Walker that fire now roared all around them. Thick black smoke hid each from the others and they continued their descent, running blind. Shadow Walker’s foot landed on a loose rock and he fell heavily while Day-Nah flew off his back and tumbled away from him. The fire seemed to suck life out of the air around them. Shadow Walker crouched on all fours attempting to catch his breath. He stood but saw no sign of the others. Flames surrounded him. He was disoriented and could see nothing and he heard no voices above the roaring flames. Wolves! He heard the wolf pups and, having no other beacon, ran toward the sound of their voices.

Shadow Walker’s feet suddenly splashed into cold water. He had come to a broad shallow river. Here, smoke hung still heavy in the air, but there were no flames surrounding him. A splash beside him made him spin around ready to kill but it was the small friend of Tu-Swift. Shadow Walker heard coughing and saw Hudah Salah splashing toward him. The air began to clear around them.

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Wind is a fickle friend. Those who loose fire — or hatred — upon a land or a people, can never predict with certainly where those flames will lead. Fed by the fuel of fierce desire to destroy and flowing with the ever changing winds, foolish indeed are those who think these movements may be reliably directed and channeled.

This day, the winds had shifted and the fire now pursued the pursuers and the fire burned toward the people who steal children. Though slower on the downhill side, it chased the ROI into the forest, but did not stop at the edge of the forest. Encouraged by the richer fuel within, the blaze now devoured its way back into the fir and pine. Another small fire had begun when one of the ROI had pulled back his lit arrow, and before he could release it, the weakened nock broke and the flaming arrow had fell at the bowman’s feet instantly igniting the grass around him. The breaking of the bow stung his arms and in his surprise, he ran into the forest rather than attempting to put out the small fire around him. Of course, it quickly grew and like his larger cousin, relished the change in wind that allowed him to charge into the fuel-rich forest.

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As the air cleared around Shadow Walker and Hudah Salah, the rescue party began to see that in the distance, a great fire was destroying the forest — and all the creatures within. Easy Tears soon joined them along with the wolf pups. Fleet-of-Foot and Day-Nah also joined them.

Shadow Walker looked about. Though the fire did not now seem hell-bent on burning their search party, he knew that winds were unpredictable. If the wind shifted directly toward him, the fire would find nothing to burn. In front of him, in a direct line to the forest of firs, the entire grass hillside had already been burned to ash. On the other side of the burned grassland, the evergreen forest bloomed red and black. Huge flames leapt to the sky. The fire seemed intent on burning back toward the center place of the people who stole children. But fire is unpredictable. It might then turn and come up the other side of the valley after him and his friends. He frowned. He began to wonder: Where was Tu-Swift? Where was Eagle Eyes? Where was Lion Slayer?

Shadow Walker began to realize that his ankle was badly sprained. He gestured the others to come to the edge of the stream to dialogue about next steps. They sat for a few moments in silence, first catching their breath, then, thanking the Great Bear in the Sky for sparing them. Each had just barely escaped death, after all. No-one seemed badly burned or injured. But three of their party remained unaccounted for. Shadow Walker sat on the edge of the stream, shivering with the others, keeping his turned ankle in the icy water. He focused his energy on telling it not to swell. At last, he opened his mouth to speak, but the small thin voice of Day-Nah spoke first.

“Tu-Swift?” he questioned. “Tu-Swift run? Tu-Swift hide? Tu-Swift?”

Shadow Walker almost choked up with tears. He cupped his hands around his mouth, gestured for the others to follow his lead and they all turned toward the center place of the ROI and shouted “TU-SWIFT! TU-SWIFT!” Then, they cupped their hands behind their ears to amplify any returning call. Nothing. “Eagle Eyes! EAGLE EYES!” Nothing. They did the same for Lion Slayer. Nothing. Then, they all turned in a slightly different direction and did the same. They completed this circle twice with no response. The roaring, sparking fire was the only sure sound though on several occasions they all thought they heard distant screams of agony.

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At last the sun shone over the peak of the hill; the smoke clouds no longer hid its warming rays and they began to parley on whether the people who steal children had survived to chase them further and whether and how and where to search for those missing from their party. Hudah Salah regarded Shadow Walker’s ankle with a grimace. She tore some of her garments and took his ankle gently into her lap where the wrapped cloth tightly about it and tied it. “Too tight – you loose. Too loose – you tight. Understand?”

Shadow Walker looked into her face. He could see genuine caring and concern. Beyond that, he saw her fear – fear that her husband, Lion Slayer might have been lost to the flames. This tore at the heart of Shadow Walker. He had come here to rescue Tu-Swift, who was nowhere to be found and he may have lost two of their party and still not returned Tu-Swift to Many Paths as he had promised.

He stood at last, and hobbled a few steps. He would be of no use searching. They worked together to devise a search plan. They would communicate by alternating whistling like an eagle and drumming with sticks. If anyone saw a sign of the return of their pursuers, they would warn the others. If they met up with any of their missing party, they would likewise let the others know. They would meet back at the stream at sunset. Shadow Walker and Day-Nah would stay behind to relay messages and Shadow Walker would try to learn more from Day-Nah. Though Day-Nah’s ability to speak Veritas was limited, he hoped he could learn something, and he began to query the little fellow. “Tu-Swift? Where Tu-Swift?”

The child repeated back. “Tu-Swift! Tu-Swift — good!” This was followed by gibberish more unintelligible to him than the hissing of a snake. But Salah Hadam, who had just gathered up her pack, and headed off to search, snapped around. She spoke to the boy rapidly in some foreign tongue. They spoke excitedly back and forth for several minutes and the others also turned back. Fleet-of-Foot could stand it no longer.

“What is he saying? Is he of your tribe? Where is Tu-Swift?”

Salah Hadam, generally quite demure, put up her had as though to push away Fleet-of-Foot and looked him in the eye and said, “You. Stop! He talk!” She turned back to Day-Nah and they continued to converse. Shadow Walker had no idea what she said, but Fleet-of-Foot understood much of what they said. He stooped down beside Shadow Walker and spoke in a stage whisper.

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“This boy does not know what happened to Tu-Swift. They were together running down the hill quickly to escape fire. Black smoke and fire everywhere. Tu-Swift had helped Day-Nah get up after you dropped him and had yelled, “Run, Day-Nah. RUN!”

“Day-Nah had looked over to see Tu-Swift but he saw nothing. He had vanished into smoke.”

Fleet-of-Foot realized that this conversation would continue for awhile and he set down his pack beside Salah Hadam and began translating as best he could to all the rest. One by one, the rescuers set down their packs and began listening to Day-Nah’s story.

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Fish have no word for “Water”