This entry is part of the NaNo Excerpt Blog Chain 2013 at Absolute Write.
The High Ide who had been shadowing the party for some time now made their presence known, appearing on either side of the “gate” and the canyon. They were wearing the traditional Ide garments, which the Lower Ide only sported in pieces, and armed with a mixture of bows and arrows and old muzzle-loading rifles. The High Ide who had spoken, though, was armed with a Winchester repeater of older manufacture, and he kept it trained on the group as he spoke.
“You are not welcome here, in the Ide lands or the settlement of Gailebesh,” the High Ide continued. “By order of Kunan, son of Mainagha the High Chief, turn around and leave these lands at once. Your failure to do so will mark you as enemies of the Ide and we will rain down upon you without mercy.”
Virginia understood enough Ide to get the meaning, if not the nuance, of Kunan’s speech. “Kunan? Who we saw with Naquewocsum?” she said, mangling much of the syntax but managing to make herself understood.
“Ah, so you are the enidiiagil I saw in the chief’s tent, insulting him with your presence,” said Kunan. “Do not think that we will tolerate you on behalf of our brothers, and do not think that I will hesitate to kill you now because I did not do so then.”
“Most noble and respected Kunan of the High Ide,” said Dr. Eggebrecht, whose natural faculty with languages and careful study had granted him an impressive mastery of the Ide tongue in a comparatively short space of time. “I am Dr. Dana D. Eggebrecht of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC, and these are my escorts. We understand and respect your defense of your borders from interlopers, and would ask only a moment of your time that you might listen to what we have to say.”
Virginia pursed her lips. There were a few words in Eggebrecht’s speech she couldn’t make out, but it was clear he was being much more polite—obsequious, even—with the High Ide than he had been with the Rangers risking their lives on his behalf.
“Do not slander us with that title,” sneered Kunan. “There are no High Ide and no Lower Ide, only the true Ide and traitors who consort with murderers, thieves, and tricksters.”
“My most humble and sincere apologies, O Kunan,” Eggebrecht said. “Please forgive my ignorance in using the only term for your noble and mighty people that I have ever known. Will you accept my remorse, and accept my offer of parley?”
“No,” said Kunan. “We of the true Ide do not stoop to parley with those we know to be violent, base, and false. I reiterate my earlier command: leave us at once.”
“Please, O noble Kunan of the True Ide, hear me out,” Eggebrecht, a slightly desperate inflection in his voice. “I seek access to your most noble settlement of Gailebesh not to settle or even to trade, but to observe for a short time your ways that I might educate my own kind, the enidiiagil, how better to respect the True Ide lands and the True Ide ways.”
“No,” Kunan repeated. “Your honeyed words ring hollow, enidiiagil. Observation is but a prelude to invasion, and we of the true Ide have sworn never to let outsiders into our midst. This is our most sacred vow.”
“But…but…I have letters of introduction, O wise Kunan!” Dr. Eggebrecht fumbled through his portmanteau and produced them. “One from the City Council of Prosperity Falls, signed by all, and another from the wise Chief Naquewocsum who is known to you.”
As much as she disliked being at a disadvantage, surrounded by people who did not like her and with weapons trained, Virginia had to admit that she enjoyed seeing Eggebrecht squirm.
Kunan laughed. “What good are your speaking-papers, enidiiagil, to one who cannot read? And what good is the word of a band of treacherous enidiiagil and the false, fallen Ide who, while our brothers, were not strong enough to resist the temptation of the enidiiagil when they came among us sowing destruction and discord?”
“The Smithsonian Institution sent me, can’t you appreciate that?” Eggebrecht cried, the veneer of elaborate politeness in his words beginning to crack. He also slipped into English without realizing it. “I am under orders to preserve your culture and your ways through observation! I have your best interests in mind! Would you rather have nothing left to mark your passing when ignorant enidiiagil like these lunkheads around me massacre you all as ignorant savages?”
Kunan narrowed his eyes, and his lips compressed to a thin line.
“Oh, my apologies!” Eggebrecht said hastily in the Ide language. “I did not mean to-”
“If we cannot defend our ways by our own hand, they are not worth preserving,” Kunan said in clear, if accented and somewhat halting, English. “Your offer does not interest us, Dr. Dana D. Eggebrecht of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC. For the fourth and final time I must refuse your request.”
The Smithsonian man could only sputter helplessly, waving his worthless papers and looking to the Rangers as if they had some power to alter the situation.
“Bring the wagon around, Mr. Sullivan, if you please,” said Prissy quietly. “We’re going.”
“What? After coming all this way? Surely even a moron like you must admit that we can’t give up so easily. We can try additional arguments, bribery, something…anything! I simply must be allowed into Gailebesh for the continuance of my studies!”
“Dr. Eggebrecht,” said Jake. “They are losing patience with us, and they have us at a supreme disadvantage. Even with those weapons, they could kill all of us in half a minute flat. You can think up other ways for them to turn you down elsewhere.”
“Your enidiiagil drover speaks wisdom,” Kunan said, again in English. “I would heed him.”
“Honored Kunan, we thank you for your patience,” Prissy said loudly. “We will bear your answer back to our people and inform them that you do not wish to be troubled further, if you are willing to grant us safe passage back the way we came.”
“What are you doing, you fool?” Eggebrecht began. “You were put at my disposal, and-”
Prissy reached into her bustle and produced a Sharps Pepperbox, and pointed it so close to the Smithsonian man’s face that it touched his nose. Shocked, Eggebrecht said nothing further that was intelligible.
“Very well. You may leave, and tell any who will listen what you have heard here today,” said Kunan. “My Guardians will track you to make sure you do not renege on your word as is the enidiiagil way.”
“Thank you, O honored Kunan,” Prissy said. “Mr. Sullivan, the wagon.”
“A word of warning: do not expect us to be so accommodating should we meet again,” Kunan said.
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books 
October 2, 2013
From “When Pastimes Collide” by Jacelyn “Bali Mojo” Marina
Posted by alexp01 under Blog Chain | Tags: Chicago Bears, Chicago Cubs, commentary, Detroit Lions, Detroit Tigers, endzone, fiction, football, humor, nfl, sports, story |[8] Comments
This post is part of the October 2013 Blog Chain at Absolute Write. This month’s prompt is “Lions, tigers, and bears, oh my.”
PLAY-BY-PLAY: And we’re back with the Detroit Lions versus the Chicago Bears. 4th quarter, 0-0, and just coming off a Meyersby flummox by the Bears that Oscar Earle stopped for the Lions using the Thatch Weave.
COLOR: You just made that up, didn’t you?
PLAY-BY-PLAY: True enough, Carl, true enough. But it’s not like anyone actually listens to our chatter, we’re just a part of the background noise like the roaring fans and the commercials for products aimed at males 18-35. And if we can’t embrace that, own that, and have some fun with it, ours is a hollow existence devoid of meaning–a meaningless howling into the infinite void, if you will.
COLOR: Fair enough, Tom. Looks like Earle is up for the snap on our next play, third down.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Yes, the Detroit Lions are going all out with this one. They’ve got Earle with Tennison on his right, but the Chicago Bears are countering with Masterson in the center. They both want this bad.
COLOR: Yes, it’s a knock-down, drag-out fight this one, because the loser in this case will be at the very bottom of the NFL rankings not only for this season but for all time. Statistically speaking a very tough black mark to shake, and neither the Lions nor the Bears want to replace the 1924 Birmingham Klansmen in the NFL museum’s “Hall of Shame” for worst record in the history of the sport since organized competition began on November 6, 1869.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: There’s the snap, and…it’s bad! The Lions fumble, and the Bears’ Masterson has got the ball! He’s…yes, he’s out and clear, on the Lions’ thirty and closing in on a touchdown!
COLOR: Not looking good for Detroit and the Lions, Tom. Given the staggering incompetence demonstrated by both teams at the sport in general and this game in particular, it’s unlikely that the Motor City will be able to recover. This will be yet another tough body blow for a city currently suffering from bankruptcy, organized and disorganized crime, corruption on a biblical scale, and relentless nightly assaults by zombies who cannot be killed as they are on the city’s payroll and vote regularly for alderman thanks to a legal loophole.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Masterson’s on the twenty, on the ten…Masterson is down! Yes, Masterson is down just short of the Lions’ endzone! A player wearing a grey uniform, no pads, and a ballcap has appeared on the field, and…yes, he put Masterson down using what appears to be a baseball bat!
COLOR: That’s right, Tom. Dozens of players, all armed with bats, are surging onto the field from the Detroit locker room. From the stylized “D” on their caps and the leaping orange felid on their jerseys, I can only assume…yes, we’re getting confirmation from the field! The Detroit Tigers have joined the game on the side of the Lions, and it has degenerated into a general melee!
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Yes, Carl, the Bears that were guarding Masterson have themselves been pummeled into submission, their pads, helmets, and indeed cups being no match for skillfully wielded aluminum bats in the hands of anabolic-steroid-blasting meatslabs. The Tigers are forming up, and…yes, they have just awkwardly punted the ball back to the Lions with those selfsame bats. Carl, your thoughts on this sudden and almost certainly illegal play?
COLOR: Nothing against it in the rules, Tom, and I know those backwards and forwards as they’re the only reading material we’re allowed during the 27 hours of pregame coverage. It looks like the Detroit Tigers have come to the aid of their fellow Motor City players, being as upset at the idea of having a worst-ever team in their city as anyone. And, being no good at baseball, they seem to have found their niche–the Tigers, for those who only pay attention to good teams, being in little danger of slipping to historic last place themselves thanks to the continued existence of the Chicago Cubs.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: The Bears are fighting back as best they can, Carl, even emptying their benches, but with the Cubs nowhere in sight, they are being massacred, literally and figuratively, by the combined Lion/Tiger assault. The refs are not stopping this, Carl, they are not stopping this. The Detroit ref has actually joined the assault–that’s him strangling Zaford with his whistle–and it appears that the Chicago ref has fled the field out of fear for his personal safety. It’s a confused melee out there, but one definitely trending in the direction of the Chicago endzone and eternal infamy for all participants in this debacle, surely the death knell of professional sports in every city and franchise involved. Carl, your thoughts?
COLOR: Lions, Tigers, and Bears, oh my.
Check out this month’s other bloggers, all of whom have posted or will post their own responses:
Ralph Pines
ishtar’sgate
skunkmelon
pyrosama
julzperri
Angyl78