Obsidian Trilogy

-- Illustrated fantasy novel --
Updates thrice a week

Chapter 2. I wish I had a gun

Chapter 2. I wish I had a gun

Chargas step lightly on their soft, padded paws. Dry autumn leaves may rustle under their feet, their claws may click once in a while on a stony road, but when they walk on grass you can not hear them at all because your human hearing is not sharp enough for something so subtle.

Two charga riders followed a well-trodden trade road up to the crossroads where they turned north. The narrow path they chose was a remnant of the gold rush times. Back then, when thousands of people travelled that way, their heavy boots had worn the ground down to the rock. Like an old scar, the forgotten, overgrown path was still visible through the young green undergrowth. It didn’t snake around the hills and trees, it boldly went straight through every obstacle in its way, be it a meadow or a forest. Close to the obscure border of the Burnt Region the path emerged from under the grassy carpet of weeds and flowers and headed up, turning into a wide two-track road littered with innumerable shell cases that still glinted in the dust. Gold rush times were rough times…


“What’s in the Burnt Region now?” Kangassk asked Vlada. “Is it abandoned, since no one seems to go there any more?”

“Don’t get your hopes high.” Vlada shook her head. “Yes, it’s mostly a wasteland now, but people still live there.”

“I wouldn’t,” Kan said with a lot of confidence.


Sasler was cleaning his rifle, carefully wiping every little lens in a clever device attached to its barrel. The very device that made him the most feared man in the Burnt Region: a scope.

Finally, satisfied with his work, he replaced the lid of the black case protecting the delicate lenses. When fully assembled, the scope resembled a bulging, unblinking insect eye.

As usual, before setting off for the hunt Sasler peeked into his house and waved goodbye to his wife and little son. This simple ritual was extremely important to him, for many reasons.

In the dense pine woods these hills were covered with, the sunlight reached the ground in patches. Sasler avoided stepping on them, he preferred to stay in shadows where he felt more comfortable.

The weather was fine, not a single cloud in the sky. Sasler chose a comfy spot at the edge of the cliff in the shade between two blackberry bushes. He could see the whole meadow from there. All he needed now was to wait for some hungry animal to show up.

His bulge-eyed rifle lay next to him, its “eye” covered with cloth. Comfortably sprawled on the grass, Sasler waited for his prey. In such beautiful weather he could see further than usual, as far as the old road.

The old road… someone was there, heading into the heart of the Burnt Region…


“The old road goes up into the mountains,” Vlada explained. “People used to wash gold there, in the icy-cold springs, and build houses around them. Most little villages are abandoned now, but some people have stayed. I doubt they would like to see us, though. That’s why we’d better make a little detour through the forest.”

Kangassk sighed pensively and scratched his charga behind the ear. The mighty beast answered the stroke with a loud purr.

Sasler didn’t care about the old road, but he did care about his forest. Those two had just left the road and entered his territory! He grabbed his rifle, ripped the cloth off the scope, and took a closer look at the intruders.

He was glad he hadn't rushed to pull the trigger. The strangers looked very much like old Crogan's bandits, kevlar cloaks and all. It took him a whole minute to realize they weren't a part of the gang.

These two carried no guns with them, just three swords and a short bow. Plus, their chargas were heavily laden, obviously for travelling purposes.

Fools. Two young fools either seeking adventures or trying to make a shortcut through the Burnt Region despite all the warnings they no doubt got. Or, maybe, they are not fools at all, but in fact, someone much worse than Crogan’s thugs are…

Sasler tarried, balancing in indecision. The riders, two tiny black specks on the yellowish-green grassy carpet of the valley, were slowly moving in his direction. He couldn’t just kill them, not while them being innocent young fools was still a possibility. He needed more info. Having noted where they had entered the forest Sasler left the cliff. He decided to follow and watch those two, closely.

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Random stuff: I wrote "Cold Obsidian" when I was 20. Translating it into English has been my dream since.
Random stuff: "Obsidian Trilogy" is the reason I decided to learn to draw. I was too poor to pay an artist but wanted my novels to have beautiful covers.
Random stuff: The biggest obstacle in translating my novels into English was poetry. The poems included in my stories couldn't be removed and I couldn't translate them. Without Alan Jackson' help, there wouldn't be the translation of OT. (English poetry is still a mystery to me).
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Random stuff: Obsidian Trilogy is currently my side project. My main progect is Gifts of wandering ice (a sci-fi webcomic 750+ pages long)
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Random stuff: Every story begins with a spark: a small idea in the author's imagination. For "Cold Obsidian" it was a dream where a warrior woman was shopping for weapons and chose one made by an apprentice, not a master.
Random stuff: I wrote "Cold Obsidian" when I was 20 and rewrote it while I was translating it into English at the age of 36. Why rewrite it at all? Because there were too many scenes that made me exclaim: oh my! What was I thinking! It doesn't make sense at all! Scratch it!
Random stuff: The name Kangassk was inspired by Kangaxx. If you played Baldur's Gate 2, you've sure met that guy.
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27th Sep 2020, 6:49 AM in Book 1. COLD OBSIDIAN

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Author Notes:
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There are no monsters in the Burnt Region, only people... And that is worse.
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