Chapter One: Trouble Is Brewing

Imagine with me, will you?

Imagine that just like the Cekko people, you've got the special powers, and the ability to go on for long periods without sleeping, even an hour, eating, or doing anything else as normal people do. Imagine that with all of that, you can still function at your peak and stay focused and alert. And there you are at a vantage point where you are hanging out suspended somewhere outside the conference room properly. Just out of sight, and out of their knowledge of you being there.

But you're (nonetheless,) there, eavesdropping on the meeting and spying in on the conversation. Trying to see what's going on and hear what you can hear. You're there listening in on it. Look, look at the king, he's there, sitting on the throne. There, in his royal chair. He's a bit slumped in his posture today, not his usual majestic self. He's distressed, even biting his nails. Or more like pretending not to be, biting. He's (obviously) more than a bit troubled.

Everybody who is anybody in the hierarchy of the kingdom is there. They're all there and sitting in their respective places in a semicircle at the conference table, facing the king. Everybody, including the chief ranger, Smokey, is there. Some of his most promising prospects of the year are there, too. Shadow is there for sure, and the young trainee whose name is Beahon. The girls, "ONE." Onella, Noella, and Estella are there. It would be interesting to hear what they are talking about. What's on the menu for discussion today, waiting to be dished out?

Now your curiosity is getting the better of you, so you're inching in closer. There's a crack in the windowpane, you've noticed it for sure. You're now edging your way there nimbly along the ledge just outside the window on the same floor as the conference room. Because of the prevailing conditions, yes, it's dark outside, and because you're wearing dark clothing yourself. You're confident that you will remain concealed from their view and get to make it all the way there. Still standing upright on those shaky twos and breathing the air. But you're not about to push your luck too far this time, not at the risk of being busted.

You're standing on the ledge now at the back end of the room, behind all those sitting at the conference table. But almost exactly in front of the direct gaze of the king. There has got to be a better place than this for you to be in. The king might be a bit distraught and distracted now, but who knows when he might momentarily revert to his customary sharp senses and wit and discover an intruder among them? Can't risk that, we've got to find a better spot. Oh, look, there it is, that upright column over there just behind the conference table with the drapery hanging alongside it seems perfect. This will block the view towards you from the king's position, you bet.

Unless one of the guests should get up and away from the business at hand and should come over and deliberately peer through the window, by shifting the drapery even, you should be okay. While those at the table seemed well caught up in the matter at hand, nobody seemed likely to be going anywhere anytime soon. Getting over there is going to be a real challenge, though. But you're game too. You're up to this and any other such challenge. So now, after having bided your time very carefully, you've managed to make it there behind the column. You're undercover, yes, but you're having trouble hearing as clearly as you would have liked.

Some high-pitched voices sometimes get carried through clearly enough for you to hear what was said. But for the most part, the words are coming through to you (somewhat) muffled. However, left with little, if any other, choices, this will have to suffice, Sis, and then. Listen, there it is. The overture of the haunting melody. Just like the footsteps, the sound is coming. Musical sounds mingled with heavy boots coming. Coming across the floor towards you. Those at the table are still talking; they are all heads, ears, and noses deep into the discussions. But the marching boots type of footsteps are still coming towards you. Even if it's not what you think it is, there's no way you're going to risk finding that out.

Speaking of "out," that's what you'll have to do. You'll have to get out of there, out of that place where you are standing now. Or out of sight in any way possible, but out you must get, somehow, and that's what you did. Sliding down on both hands and knees, quickly, very quickly indeed. You swung yourself onto the underside of the ledge on which you had been standing moments before (while wishing for the appearance of the door). Dragging your hands along with you as fast as you possibly could. Whilst stretching out to your fullest length to remain concealed and out of view.

Your feet would have found the column to the southern end in the same way as your hands did, and soft too, as soft as a tomcat hopping across the rocks to go a-fishing for you, perhaps, just as quickly as you had dragged those arms off the ledge above you and out of sight of the guard who had just popped the window open. Just that quickly, you flipped over and popped them across your head to meet the other column on the north side of the building. So now, you're hanging suspended there just below them on the underside of the ledge you had been standing moments before. While thanking the gods for these things and more. First and foremost, the gods you'd long known to be good, before any other.

But then, you started having trouble remembering any time or situation in which such gods had ever come through this decisively, quickly, and forcefully for you. Or for anyone you have ever known. So you thought to yourself, it must have been the other gods, the Cekko gods, perhaps, it must have been them who had done it for you. It has got to be the Cekko Gods themselves who have come to your rescue. Yes, you had even started to notice that the strength you would need to bear you up in that position under the ledge was supplied. Even in abundance, it would have seemed, and then, you had to think about sending out some of the praises unto those gods. To magnify those very Cekko gods, too.

Maybe, just maybe, you had quickly transcended into becoming much more of a Cekko type of person than you'd thought at first. So you offered up another prayer of thanksgiving unto them, out of the purse. Thanking them for the help they'd provided, and for keeping you there in that position until you could make it down and out of there. Before the hard ground, four stories down came up rapidly to meet you, where you were hanging unprepared and unable to do anything about the situation, any time soon.

Meanwhile, at least one other pair of boots would have marched over to that side of the conference room and might have been there bearing up a second head that's probably there, even now leaning out of the window. A pair of inquiring eyes, too, might be there peering out of the same window and looking around. Searching to see whatever might be there for them to see of any person who might have been loitering around those parts, even you. But then, that was when you began to think the other thoughts.

It would have appeared as if it was a super-pack supply of strength that the gods had given you for the task, because even after all those many nights and days, while the meeting continued. You were hanging there on the underside of the ledge. Although some passersby would have turned their heads upwards to look in that general direction, and even though you could have seen them clearly as they did so. Somehow, none of them seemed to have even noticed that you were hanging suspended there all that time. Wow! Awesome gods are those. To be continued. WritingElk.