Fauldon's Dream and the Karier of the Task

There happens to be, near to the thistle bees, a people known as the Beezleton folk. Creative engineers and architects of nature mimics, the people of Beezleton were known for their yellow mechanisms strapped about them like exoskeletons. For they used such mechanisms to scale the harsh walls and cliffsides of the river Floweth in their duties pertaining to the watch of the thistle bees’ honeycomb hives scattered abroad. For if they did not, many a creature would seek to disrupt the flow and consume all that is rich and sweet. Both as protectors and harvesters, the Beezleton folk functioned as caretakers for the thistle bees that dwelt along the vast expanse encompassing the mainland of Euphora.

Beezlewarden is what they were known as—those that were warriors for the hives and the harvesters of that sweet nectar treasured throughout. Wielding insects of gears and shafts, a Beezlewarden took pride in his unique craft. For to become a Beezlewarden, the pride of the Beezleton folk, one must first construct their Ward. A Ward most often was a mechanical mimic of an insect of nature. These “Wards” were oft equipped with wings of the finest honey-silks that made even Obliviouseh envious. Now, this feature was important to the Beezlewarden because of the need to cross the vast canyon being the river Floweth. Though countless swarms filled its berth, there were yet low and also high tides in which one still must avoid colliding with the large thistle bees, else they become agitated and stingy-minded.

Ever so often would the swarms reach their low, allowing for the Beezlewarden to flutter with their mechanical Wards down and into the hives etched across the mass of cliffside. Deep into these hives would they wander, sampling the nectars about and scouting for those creatures that sought to intrude. Many tales of bravery, both in reality and myth, are told of the Beezlewarden and their patrols deep into the hives. And should the rare occasion arise that a Beezlewarden not return from his expedition, the task would be burdened upon the Great Warden to decipher the mystery and recover the lost. For the Great Warden was the heart and soul of the Beezleton folk, being an ancient apparition of the first Ward—a silver mantis of preposterous proportions. Wielded by none, the Great Warden was driven by the instinct it had performed so many times with its creator, the most renowned of Beezlewarden to have ever arose past, present, and perhaps futurely (though not to say Beezleton’s future would never improve).

One such case did occur—or rather, was in occurrence—during the brief visitation of Mr Fauldon and the ever-eager Pamela, who seemed overly fond of the Beezleton folk, for they were cool. Or better be it said that they were lively, creative, and always running about to some event of importance.

His name was Bryent, and it was his first venture into the hives alone, his third as a Beezlewarden. For it had taken him the first two times to work out the kinks of his Ward, needing the help of more experienced Beezlewarden to catch him during his many falls, shortcomings, and learnings. But finally had he finished his mimic of nature and named it Flower. He and Flower were an odd companionship—for was it failed to be mentioned that these “Wards” were companions of the Beezlewarden and interacted with them as such, being quite lively considering they were but mechanisms of gears and bolts and screws.

For each Ward bore within itself an Iconicsphere, which was responsible for its strengths and personality—also being what made it unique apart from its design. To obtain the Iconicsphere, each Beezlewarden-to-be had to venture deep into the depths of Waterryse Mountain and even to its very center. And where the swells of its heart did spur the waters of such bizarritude, there resided stones etched into the crevices and cracks of the great mountain, waiting to be pulled by those destined to become Beezlewarden.

It just so happened that Bryent had a rather peculiar story in obtaining his Iconicsphere. For he was not selected as others were for the task, rather he was destined by measures not accustom to the folk of Beezleton. For atop Waterryse Mountain there lies a ridge and platform from which the folk of Beezleton would begin their descent with the largest of cables strapped to the oddest of platforms. For the upward waterflow caused much pressure often too strong to pass through less shielded by the platform a good fifty feet.

Bryent was yet a good fourteen hundred turns from the time he would be lowered into that mountain. Though anxious to become a Beezlewarden, he would gladly help run the shafts and gears to that platform that he might assist his fellow companions in their expeditions downward. It was not the first time he had helped. He was growing more and more familiar with the ropes and conduct of running the mechanism, regardless of how long he had yet to wait for the time of his own venture.

But fate had it upon one particular day, being as usual as the rest, an eventful event occurred along that ridge so high and steep. For early did he get there so as to feel the rush of the great waters rise and the mighty breeze it did create. Coming to the ledge, he looked and saw Magston there beneath the platform, working upon its levers and joints.

“Why, Magston, whatever are you doing there?” Bryent shouted only just above the roar, for he knew it was not wise to venture beneath the platform, especially alone. But if any Beezleton were to do it, it would undoubtedly be Magston, for the man was knowledgeable in repair and also bore a Ward of the most shielding design—and that he called Shielder. So looking down, Bryent saw the massive wing plates of the Ward spread out and deflecting the horrendous currents of the waterryse (honestly, the Ward’s scale was such that Magston had to have two massive wheels mounted as legs to it so as to help support the weight when it was upon his back).

“Hand me that wrench!” Magston yelled back at him, not caring to conversate while he worked his task of preparing the platform, though Bryent still knew not why he had begun it alone. Nonetheless, he saw the Beezletech’s toolbox and the many tools spread about. But he knew what a wrench was. “The one that is oscillating!” Magston added.

Reaching out, Bryent retrieved the oscillating wrench and neared the edge of the platform. It happened that Magston was rather beneath it, causing Bryent to anchor his leg about one of the rails and lean heavy over the ridge to deliver Magston’s tool.

And as impressed as the Beezletech was of Bryent’s agile state, he quickly withdrew the tool so as to hurry his repair and keep the young Beezleton from dangling too long over the platform. It was then that some of the others had reached the mountaintop. Now, one must understand that Bryent was fully aware of the predicament he was in and had taken the precautions so as to secure his position. Regardless, he had not calculated for Dandel—a rather rambunctious Beezlewarden-to-be whose task it was that day to be the one to descend.

For Dandel thought it an impeccable time to play a prank on the young Bryent and try to scare him while he dangled over the platform’s edge, seeing as he was secure. However, it was far more successful than even he expected, for all of Bryent’s attention had been upon his grip and balance, and when Dandel did leap upon that platform, it broke the young Beezleton’s attention from his footing.

And all it took was one slip.

“Bryent!” Dandel yelled, realizing the naivety of his prank. Magston saw too but was too rooted in his secure position to move in time to catch young Bryent as he fell.

Down, down, down he went—eyes shut tight and hands hard-covered about his face to shield from the waterryse that still sought to cut through cloth and skin. Helpless, he came to find Shielder’s giant wings fold beneath him and just in time to protect him from the jut of rock into which he was about to collide. In a forceful impact did Shielder’s wings shatter, though allowing Bryent not to be struck by the lethal protruding rock.

Eyes now open and skin ablaze, the young and terrified Beezleton spun his body so as to grab hold of the falling and broken Ward. Pulling himself in, he felt the gears pressing tightly about him as the mechanism found itself clenched into a crevice of the mountainside within. His descent ceased, and the waters blasted against the lifeless Ward, which had saved him now twice. He’d already fallen deep and looked hopelessly to the scale of rock and mountain that rose high above him—the faint shouts coming from above as Magston and the Beezlewarden that were seeking to rescue him.

And in that moment of despair, he saw beside him a glow of Iconicsphere. He knew to still be considered too young for it but felt it calling his name in whisper and tremble. With shaking and bruised palms did he pry at the mountainside until finally it had broken loose, at which point in time, regardless of intent, he was deemed a Beezlewarden, even before Dandel—who was both apologetic and envious from thence forth.

So there you have it. And yes, Bryent was rescued from the torrents of the great waterryse, and he was also deemed the youngest recipient of an Iconicsphere. Thus, only a few events later, and you see him running in the slightest of glimpses during the tale of Fauldon’s Dream.

“A writer’s greatest reader is also his greatest advertiser. Share what you have seen and see it anew with those to whom you share.”

-An anonymous individual from an upcoming title: No’vel Melbourne