Welcome to my slightly-belated entry to the Bad News Blogfest, hosted by Francine at Romancing the Blog My apologies, but the time I had set aside to write this was spent in the Emergency Room with my baby's 103-degree fever. Apparently, it's nothing serious, but it took us nearly five hours to find that out. We didn't get home until about 12:30.
For this entry, I offer a segment from the third thread from my story, the spy who's trying to unite separate factions against the Evil Empire. Enjoy.
Yalip never liked to be kept waiting, so the three-days delay in hearing from Pledis had set her nerves on edge. They had learned a great deal – she and her two collaborators – in their time in the port of Manos, but time was short, and she had hoped for news much sooner. By the time Ansel came with the summons, her foreboding was palpable.
As they wove through the Market, Ansel betrayed nothing. Yalip had no doubt that He knew what she wanted to hear, but the young apprentice knew that it wasn't his place to deliver news. The way to the Alchemists shop was a convoluted one, through alleys, shops, and yards of livestock, all to thwart pursuit. Most such shops dealt in innocuous tinctures, and the ones that dabbled in the unapproved potions had to be more subtle.
When they finally arrived, Pledis' face was a mask, giving away nothing. “Step into the back with me, dear,” he offered. Yalip's stomach dropped into her slippers.
Tea had been steeping, since he expected her this time, and Pledis always tried to be a good host. Going straight to the pouring, he began. “I'm afraid the news isn't good. The Hadenatus Gypsies have declined to escort you the the mountains.”
Yalip's jaw clenched, and her hand tightened on her cup until it trembled, rippling her tea. “Tell them I'll pay double. It is crucial to reach those mountains.”
“It isn't the coin they refuse.” Pledis rheumy eyes were firm and sympathetic. “They simply won't venture to those mountains. They aren't persuaded by your cause, or anyone's cause, and they don't wish to get involved with The Ibis.”
Yalip sat bolt-upright, and nearly dropped her cup. “You told them who I was?” Her voice was barely less than a shout.
Pledis' voice took a quieter edge. “One doesn't deal with Gypsies with falseness. We share a currency of trust, and should they learn of your identity mid-journey, it would surely cost you your life.”
“Forgive me. Protecting my privacy is an old, deep habit.”
“I understand. They suggested that the Thelema Gypsies have dealings with the people you seek. They may be met at Darden. I've spoken to a Corsaire who's sailing on the morrow for that very region.”
Yalip leaned back with a resigned sigh. “Darden is crawling with Atlanteans, but if that's are best hope...”
“It may be.” The old Alchemist had always done what he could for Yalip, and he was just as disappointed that it couldn't be more. “These things always work out for the best.”
“Sometimes I envy your faith. Usually, I'm inclined to make my own luck. I appreciate your arrangements, and gladly accept. Please tell the Hadenatus that I don't begrudge them their decision, and wish them well.”
“I certainly will,” Pledis said with a wrinkled smile. “In the mean time, you have a voyage to prepare for.”
“We've been ready for three days. But if you have anything to help with sea-sickness, I'd be glad to have it. Von doesn't enjoy the Sea.”
“I have just the thing...” Pledis always did.
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Rainy Day Blogfest.
Welcome to the Rainy Day Blogfest. Feel free to leave honest feedback (I'm sure I need it), and swing by and see Christine, our gracious host at The Writer's Hole. Enjoy!
To set the scene' Gemei (and a friend, Radian) are draft-dodgers in a fantasy world. They had to stop for help at a farm when Radian became deliriously ill.
It was very late, well past midnight, when Abe decided it was time to go home. From a forgotten barn on the property of the swill-brewer, they stumbled along wagon tracks and cow paths by the light of the moon. Abe, who had said maybe twenty words in the four days Gemei had worked with him, now slurred bawdy songs and praise for his beautiful wife in turn. Gemei had slept in a corner most of the evening, after throwing up the alcohol that was better suited to dissolving boots. When he came to, he found some ale, as rain thundered and whispered on the old roof in turn. Finding no one his age, he spent much of the evening by a minstrel with his lyre. He now enjoyed a nice glow.
“When I met Merill, she was fine. Dressed plain, see, in her father's fields, picking...OOF!”
“Abe?” Gemei looked up to where he'd been, walking beside him, but Abe wasn't there. He heard him laughing, though. A laugh that cut short in a disgusted noise.
“Aw, bear spawn, was it raining?”
Looking up, Gemei said “I think it still is.” Among the trees, it was hard to tell.
“Well, plainly it was. Plain as the puddle soakin' my breaches. Help me up.” Clasping each other's wrists, Gemei tried to pull the big farmer to his feet. Next thing they knew, they were both in the puddle, Gemei gasping at the cold, and Abe laughing at his effort.
“Yer a good'un Gemmy.” He was as surprised by the arm over his shoulders as the kind words, “but ya ain't no fisherman.”
“Not yet, I...”
“No one'd send lads your age alone to Manos. No one who's been there would trust farm boys to find their way without getting' cheated or conned or worse. And anyone who hasn't thinks if half the stories are true, you's have your eyes stolen by ogres and sold to witch's. No, if your mam and paps are alive, they don't know where you are any more than you do.”
Speechless, Gemei opened and closed his mouth, hoping his story would come, but only a drunken fog filled his head.
“Boy, ya look like one o' them fish you keep talkin' 'bout. No, my guess id it's the Garrison's you're fleein' They'll get ya, sure as sunrise, if it's just the two of ya.” Gemei felt like he was half the age of his fifteen summers as Abe measured him. Looking away, he continued. “By next full moon, the Gypsy's will be passin' through. I'll have a word with 'em. No reason they won't let you travel with them for a season. They're beneath the contempt of the Garrisons, and it'll be easier to stay hid.”
“But, Gypsies? They're...”
“They're decent enough, if they got no cause to take exception to ya.”
Gemei could no longer spin yarns. He'd been laid bare, and the relief was palpable. “My thanks...”
“Pah. Let's get home. Mornin' comes early, and I'd rather work with a head ache than listen to a lecture.”
To set the scene' Gemei (and a friend, Radian) are draft-dodgers in a fantasy world. They had to stop for help at a farm when Radian became deliriously ill.
It was very late, well past midnight, when Abe decided it was time to go home. From a forgotten barn on the property of the swill-brewer, they stumbled along wagon tracks and cow paths by the light of the moon. Abe, who had said maybe twenty words in the four days Gemei had worked with him, now slurred bawdy songs and praise for his beautiful wife in turn. Gemei had slept in a corner most of the evening, after throwing up the alcohol that was better suited to dissolving boots. When he came to, he found some ale, as rain thundered and whispered on the old roof in turn. Finding no one his age, he spent much of the evening by a minstrel with his lyre. He now enjoyed a nice glow.
“When I met Merill, she was fine. Dressed plain, see, in her father's fields, picking...OOF!”
“Abe?” Gemei looked up to where he'd been, walking beside him, but Abe wasn't there. He heard him laughing, though. A laugh that cut short in a disgusted noise.
“Aw, bear spawn, was it raining?”
Looking up, Gemei said “I think it still is.” Among the trees, it was hard to tell.
“Well, plainly it was. Plain as the puddle soakin' my breaches. Help me up.” Clasping each other's wrists, Gemei tried to pull the big farmer to his feet. Next thing they knew, they were both in the puddle, Gemei gasping at the cold, and Abe laughing at his effort.
“Yer a good'un Gemmy.” He was as surprised by the arm over his shoulders as the kind words, “but ya ain't no fisherman.”
“Not yet, I...”
“No one'd send lads your age alone to Manos. No one who's been there would trust farm boys to find their way without getting' cheated or conned or worse. And anyone who hasn't thinks if half the stories are true, you's have your eyes stolen by ogres and sold to witch's. No, if your mam and paps are alive, they don't know where you are any more than you do.”
Speechless, Gemei opened and closed his mouth, hoping his story would come, but only a drunken fog filled his head.
“Boy, ya look like one o' them fish you keep talkin' 'bout. No, my guess id it's the Garrison's you're fleein' They'll get ya, sure as sunrise, if it's just the two of ya.” Gemei felt like he was half the age of his fifteen summers as Abe measured him. Looking away, he continued. “By next full moon, the Gypsy's will be passin' through. I'll have a word with 'em. No reason they won't let you travel with them for a season. They're beneath the contempt of the Garrisons, and it'll be easier to stay hid.”
“But, Gypsies? They're...”
“They're decent enough, if they got no cause to take exception to ya.”
Gemei could no longer spin yarns. He'd been laid bare, and the relief was palpable. “My thanks...”
“Pah. Let's get home. Mornin' comes early, and I'd rather work with a head ache than listen to a lecture.”
Saturday, August 7, 2010
High Drama Blogfest!
For your consideration, I humbly submit my entry for DL Hammons, High Drama Blogfest. Honest feedback would be much-appreciated, and be sure to check out the other entries!
There was a different tone to the buzz of conversation in the Council Chambers this morning. Officials of all the realms had found their cliques, and talked excitedly about the impending session. Surely, the Regent would need to announce today what would be done about the threat of the Khemites.
Shani was wanting to stall, allowing another week for the Priest's envoys to return, but he was not hopeful. None of the Council knew of the second mission of envoys, and the official dispatch had returned the day before yesterday. The Councilors had heard what they expected to hear; what Shani suspected that they had paid to hear. The second batch of envoys was to be without such allegiances, and therefore, providing a less biased account of the threat.
The five-minute bell sounded, and Councilors made their way to their seats, as pages continued to drift about. Shani waited with the other heads, three priests and three governors, until the herald announced them.
“Representatives of the Blessed Realm, please rise for the Regent, Shaniraquey.” They emerged and strode to the dais amid polite applause.
The Seven took their places, Shani in the center, three Prime Governors on his right, and three High Priests on his left. All others were then seated.
Shani checked the day's itinerary, and found no surprises. His stomach lurched at the names, unofficial heads of factions, all. Naturally, all wanted to be heard by the Assembly, but time allowed only five for certain, and up to twenty if there was minimal debate.
After Aliber said Prayers and Adorations, Shani stood. “The Realm recognizes Councilor Alna.”
A handsome man in his early forties stood. “Blessed Regent and distinguished colleagues..,” Alna waxed loftily of the history and dignity of Atlantis. As was customary for any pronouncement. Finally coming to the point: “...and now, our way of life is threatened by savages! We can no longer deny that the Khemites are building a fleet to bring war to our very shores! We have provided them with every opportunity of education and culture, yet they rise up against us!” Approval exploded through the Assembly. Shani's face betrayed nothing, not the uncertainty of his inexperience, nor the tremble in his hands. Nothing good ever came from a Regent declaring war in his third month, but he was loath to show weakness.
Alna continued. “The reports of our envoys are irrefutable. We must descend upon them, and remind them of the Glory of Atlantis!” No one disagreed on this point, and it took several minutes to resume order. Shani dreaded the response, and relished the moments between now and then.
Shani stood and held up a hand for silence. “It has never been our way to make war. We are not the Blessed Realm through force of arms, but through commerce and culture. We have always sought peace, for the individuals, and for the nations. However,” grumblings were escalating quickly, “insolence cannot be tolerated. And insolence from those who were our kindred until the time of our grandfathers must be addressed. A disciplinary campaign will be launched as soon as it can be arranged.” He felt as though the words had been spoken by another, cryptic and hollow.
There was a different tone to the buzz of conversation in the Council Chambers this morning. Officials of all the realms had found their cliques, and talked excitedly about the impending session. Surely, the Regent would need to announce today what would be done about the threat of the Khemites.
Shani was wanting to stall, allowing another week for the Priest's envoys to return, but he was not hopeful. None of the Council knew of the second mission of envoys, and the official dispatch had returned the day before yesterday. The Councilors had heard what they expected to hear; what Shani suspected that they had paid to hear. The second batch of envoys was to be without such allegiances, and therefore, providing a less biased account of the threat.
The five-minute bell sounded, and Councilors made their way to their seats, as pages continued to drift about. Shani waited with the other heads, three priests and three governors, until the herald announced them.
“Representatives of the Blessed Realm, please rise for the Regent, Shaniraquey.” They emerged and strode to the dais amid polite applause.
The Seven took their places, Shani in the center, three Prime Governors on his right, and three High Priests on his left. All others were then seated.
Shani checked the day's itinerary, and found no surprises. His stomach lurched at the names, unofficial heads of factions, all. Naturally, all wanted to be heard by the Assembly, but time allowed only five for certain, and up to twenty if there was minimal debate.
After Aliber said Prayers and Adorations, Shani stood. “The Realm recognizes Councilor Alna.”
A handsome man in his early forties stood. “Blessed Regent and distinguished colleagues..,” Alna waxed loftily of the history and dignity of Atlantis. As was customary for any pronouncement. Finally coming to the point: “...and now, our way of life is threatened by savages! We can no longer deny that the Khemites are building a fleet to bring war to our very shores! We have provided them with every opportunity of education and culture, yet they rise up against us!” Approval exploded through the Assembly. Shani's face betrayed nothing, not the uncertainty of his inexperience, nor the tremble in his hands. Nothing good ever came from a Regent declaring war in his third month, but he was loath to show weakness.
Alna continued. “The reports of our envoys are irrefutable. We must descend upon them, and remind them of the Glory of Atlantis!” No one disagreed on this point, and it took several minutes to resume order. Shani dreaded the response, and relished the moments between now and then.
Shani stood and held up a hand for silence. “It has never been our way to make war. We are not the Blessed Realm through force of arms, but through commerce and culture. We have always sought peace, for the individuals, and for the nations. However,” grumblings were escalating quickly, “insolence cannot be tolerated. And insolence from those who were our kindred until the time of our grandfathers must be addressed. A disciplinary campaign will be launched as soon as it can be arranged.” He felt as though the words had been spoken by another, cryptic and hollow.
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