A little more short fiction from the Jade Stage:

[Lmns Crn]

Because some of you apparently thought I was dead or something, here's a little more short fiction from the Jade Stage.

"Peraci joru na di Salma nago,
Poragu Jatta cirdu fedelago;
Deru sa gela."[/i]

Ciro spread his awareness over the field, becoming the soil, the chilly air, the hard, brittle sunlight. His spirit  embraced the cornstalks as his body stood immobile, leading two farmers in a harvest prayer.

"Peraci gama neriwa di varo--"

Barano opened his eyes and waited a long moment for the priest to continue. Perhaps the old man had fallen asleep standing up? Barano reached over slowly, about to tap Ciro on the shoulder, when the old man's eyes snapped open. Barano recoiled, startled.

His wife whispered: "Brother Ciro, what is it?"

One word in response: "Trolls."

Eyes to the fields, scanning past the cornstalks. The breeze whistled louder now, deafening. She screeched: "Already? It's only Darame!" But now the footsteps were audible, and the crunch of trampled cornstalks.

Ciro wrested the staff from the ground and turned. "To the farmhouse! Run!"

Stalks of corn flashed by; the cold earth pounded up at their feet as they fled. The farmhouse grew in the distance, but the dwarves could hear the snorting breath of their pursuers. At least two of them now; probably more.

Then Brother Ciro's feet betrayed him, and he pitched headlong onto the ground, the long staff of his office pinned beneath him. Breath left his lungs, and he grunted his pain.

Barano's wife turned, fifty feet from the farmhouse. "Stupid woman!" Ciro swore. "Get inside the house!"

Despite the sound of his curses and the heavy approaching footsteps, he stooped to help him to his feet.

Then the shadow covered them.

Clawed, brutish hands parted the cornstalks, and a warty, grey head lunged through, broad and flat like a toad's. Its breath steamed hot and foul. The sun behind it washed out all color from the world, made it seem like a clotted shadow reaching out from between the stalks.

Uselessly, Barano's wife raised her hands protectivly in front of her face.