It's November and writers all around the world are hunkering down to begin the next "Great Novel." However, I won't be one of them. :-) NaNo is a great concept, but I work retail and this time of year means extra hours - getting home from work after 9:00pm or later, cranky customers and well, an end to the illusion that people can be civil to one another in the name of the holiday season.
Sound cynical? Nope, just realistic.
Anyway, that isn't the point of this post. NaNoWriMo is more than a movement to get writers motivated to finally put that idea that's been bouncing around in their imaginations into actual words, on a computer screen, or into a spiral notebook - whatever works. It also fosters creativity among young writers through the Young Writers Program which brings the fun and challenge of creating a novel into classrooms. In a time when schools in America are suffering from budget cut after budget cut, the free lesson plans that NaNo provides to teachers are a way for kids to nurture their imaginations.
While I won't have the time to begin a new novel this NaNoWriMo, I do have a goal for this month. I will completing the rough draft of my historical fiction novel set in the 1st century C.E. Roman Empire. This rough draft has been long in the making due to the fact that I had to put it aside while I studied for the LSAT. So, now that it's over, I'm going back to my creative endevours.
So, are any of you joining in the fun of NaNo this year? If so, what do you hope to gain from the experience? If not, are you setting an alternative writing goal for yourself?
Happy Writing!
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Monday, November 1, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
EXTRA! EXTRA! Read all about it.
I just wanted to let you all know that I have added my Upcoming Fiction Releases page. The link is at the top of the page.
The list includes both new titles (1st time release in hardcover or paperback) and new in paperback from hardcover.
The list covers new releases in a variety of genres through March 30th.
I will update the list about every two weeks.
The list includes both new titles (1st time release in hardcover or paperback) and new in paperback from hardcover.
The list covers new releases in a variety of genres through March 30th.
I will update the list about every two weeks.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
A new look & an invitation to discuss.
Well, I've decided to try a new template. Love the images in the background they feel "fantasyish," but it's a definite learning process for me to navigate. For instance, it took me five minutes to figure out how to post this because there wasn't a big button that said "create new post." ;-) (I can hear Joe laughing at me.) Obviously, I am not very good with computers. I actually had to spend 15 mintues on the phone with my little brother to figure out how to change the template in the first place. LOL! I talked him into becoming the newest follower of my blog while I was at it. Thanks for the help and boosting my follower count, Kev. :-D
Now, on to a real writing discussion. I have been nibbling away at Calli and got another few pages written today while I was at work. (Too bad the bargain store is closing at the end of the month. No more "free time" at work. Bummer.) I still have to type up what I wrote. It's a piece that takes place in Rome from Martina and then Echo's POV. I've recently added two new characters, Jordanes (another Germanian) and Vercingetorix (Rix for short. He's a street urchin from Gaul). They both make appearances in this section.
While I like them both, Sefu is still my favorite secondary character in this novel thus far. My discussion invitation is this; who is your favorite secondary character in your current project(s)? Why does that character stand out to you?
Now, on to a real writing discussion. I have been nibbling away at Calli and got another few pages written today while I was at work. (Too bad the bargain store is closing at the end of the month. No more "free time" at work. Bummer.) I still have to type up what I wrote. It's a piece that takes place in Rome from Martina and then Echo's POV. I've recently added two new characters, Jordanes (another Germanian) and Vercingetorix (Rix for short. He's a street urchin from Gaul). They both make appearances in this section.
While I like them both, Sefu is still my favorite secondary character in this novel thus far. My discussion invitation is this; who is your favorite secondary character in your current project(s)? Why does that character stand out to you?
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
An Echo in the Bone
Diana Gabaldon's new book came out yesterday - An Echo in the Bone. This is the seventh book of the Outlander Saga, but I'm only about 50 pages into the sixth book. :-o I have to be on my guard at work until I get a chance to read it. But the customers are tricky, sometimes they bust out with a spoiler before there's a chance to stop them.
I must be wary. ;-)
I must be wary. ;-)
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Independence Day
On this day, the birthday of our nation, I wrote the most I've written on one of my novels in a long while. Very liberating. ;-) However, it was on Calliope's story again and not Artemisia's. I am nervous about having both of they related works going at the same time. I don't like the idea of neglecting one in favor of the other. But I also don't want to lose important ideas by ignoring one of them.
Have I said all of this before or what?
There could be a reason behind Calliope's story moving to the foreground. Perhaps I need to understand her better as a teen before moving on to her life as an adult. By knowing her struggles before finding a little slice of happiness (only to have it taken away again) I can make her even more real to my readers.
Writing is a roller coaster ride. The highs are exhilarating and the lows make you want to quit. Why would anyone choose this for themselves? As any writer will tell you if you ask, they don't - it chooses them. It's a need, a compulsion, to get what's inside their head out and make it reality.
Have I said all of this before or what?
There could be a reason behind Calliope's story moving to the foreground. Perhaps I need to understand her better as a teen before moving on to her life as an adult. By knowing her struggles before finding a little slice of happiness (only to have it taken away again) I can make her even more real to my readers.
Writing is a roller coaster ride. The highs are exhilarating and the lows make you want to quit. Why would anyone choose this for themselves? As any writer will tell you if you ask, they don't - it chooses them. It's a need, a compulsion, to get what's inside their head out and make it reality.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Sporadic Inspiration
Well, while I was on break at work today I decided to do some reading in a new book I bought on gladiators - research for my Artemisia novel. But about halfway through the second page a scene flashed into my mind. I kept reading, not wanting to begin something I couldn't finish at that point, but this particular scene was very persistent. It actually took over my thoughts as I was reading and none of the words made sense. All I could see was Calliope and her father. That's right, my inspiration wasn't even for the novel about Artemisia but for the prequel about her mother!
Well, needless to say I started scribbling in my notebook - thank the Muses I had one there for taking notes!! :-D The scene is still unfinished, but it's coming along well. Calli isn't very pleased with her situation right now. She's being told by her father that she has to marry her boorish, disgusting and crude cousin so her father's estate will remain in the family when he dies.
I'm not sure how I'm going to handle working on these two novels simultaneously, but I'm giving it a try. Worst case scenario is that I put one on hold until finish the other. My only dilemma would be which one to finish first? The proper chronological order would dictate I finish the prequel first, but authors write series out of chronological order all the time. Well, best not to worry about it too much. I suppose if it comes to that, I'll have a good sense of which novel is flowing better for me and I'll just go with it.
Well, off to finish that scene.
Well, needless to say I started scribbling in my notebook - thank the Muses I had one there for taking notes!! :-D The scene is still unfinished, but it's coming along well. Calli isn't very pleased with her situation right now. She's being told by her father that she has to marry her boorish, disgusting and crude cousin so her father's estate will remain in the family when he dies.
I'm not sure how I'm going to handle working on these two novels simultaneously, but I'm giving it a try. Worst case scenario is that I put one on hold until finish the other. My only dilemma would be which one to finish first? The proper chronological order would dictate I finish the prequel first, but authors write series out of chronological order all the time. Well, best not to worry about it too much. I suppose if it comes to that, I'll have a good sense of which novel is flowing better for me and I'll just go with it.
Well, off to finish that scene.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The Muse
Every writer knows what I'm talking about when I say the muse is smiling on me right now. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I'm writing a book which centers around the culture of the Muses, nine ladies who brought the arts to the ancients. Could it be that they are pleased with my subject matter and have chosen to bring me more inspiration than I have hours in the day? Perhaps.
Or perhaps it is the love of this book and the characters I am creating that keeps my fingers tapping away at the keyboard hour after hour. I spent a good portion of my day working on a prequel to my Artemisia book. Although I promised myself not to divert away from the original until the rough draft is finished, Calliope's story is also demanding to be told.
She's one fiesty little Theban. I found out today that she has three sisters instead of the two I'd originally met; Melaina, Zoe and Echo. She's the third born and no brothers. Her father isn't too thrilled about that either and is now determined to marry the three oldest off as quickly as possible. She also plays the flute, despite the fact that her namesake is the muse of epic poetry. She does love to read, but isn't much of a writer herself. (She leaves that bit to me.)
So whether it be the influence of Greek goddesses, or just my own delusional obsession with writing, Artemisia is flowing from my brain and right through my fingertips. I'll ride this as long as it lasts.
Or perhaps it is the love of this book and the characters I am creating that keeps my fingers tapping away at the keyboard hour after hour. I spent a good portion of my day working on a prequel to my Artemisia book. Although I promised myself not to divert away from the original until the rough draft is finished, Calliope's story is also demanding to be told.
She's one fiesty little Theban. I found out today that she has three sisters instead of the two I'd originally met; Melaina, Zoe and Echo. She's the third born and no brothers. Her father isn't too thrilled about that either and is now determined to marry the three oldest off as quickly as possible. She also plays the flute, despite the fact that her namesake is the muse of epic poetry. She does love to read, but isn't much of a writer herself. (She leaves that bit to me.)
So whether it be the influence of Greek goddesses, or just my own delusional obsession with writing, Artemisia is flowing from my brain and right through my fingertips. I'll ride this as long as it lasts.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Artemisia - Prologue
This is my current pet project. My historical fiction which is set in Ancient Rome. I don't have a set year just now, but it will be after A.D. 50. This is the prologue, which seems to be out of fashion with a lot of agents, but I can always blend bits of it into the main text later if necessary. There are a still some parts I need to rework but I think it does a great job of giving you some background on Artemisia's character. So here it is. :)
Kneeling, Calliope wiped the sweat from her brow and plunged the rag into the filthy water once more. With a grunt of effort she bent forward and continued to scrub the tile floor. Her enormous belly made the task even more difficult than usual, and the heat of the July sun did not ease her discomfort.
A wave of pain ripped through her abdomen and Calliope’s arms gave way beneath her weight. She rolled onto her side, gritting her teeth as she waited for the pain to cease. When it did, she went back to scrubbing. The baby was coming but it would be some time yet, and if she left the task unfinished her lanista would be angry. Childbirth was a natural function and no excuse for a slave to abandon her work.
When the floor was spotless, Calliope waddled into the courtyard and tossed the dirty water onto the sandy earth. She doubled over, stumbled and fell as another contraction seized her.
“Calli!” Augusta rushed to her side. “The baby comes?”
Calli nodded, unable to speak. Augusta helped her up, and whispering encouragement led her toward home. Laurentus had made their dwelling comfortable during the years of their marriage. As his fame as a gladiator grew he’d been allowed to keep a larger portion of his winnings, and Calli was grateful that her child would be born into a household of plenty.
“Lie back, dear.” Augusta lifted Calli’s feet for her and helped her to lean back against the wall.
“I’ll fetch Herminia.”
Calli wanted to beg her to stay; the last thing she wanted now was to be alone. If she were still at home in Thebes her mother and sisters would have been by her side. She took a deep breath as the pain ebbed. This was not her first labor. The previous two had borne her only silent babes. But Herminia was a devotee of Venus, the Romans’ name for Aphrodite, goddess of motherhood. Her presence would surely bless this birth. She closed her eyes and tried to relax.
Soon she heard footsteps and opened her eyes to the sight of Augusta ushering in Herminia who carried a branch newly broken from a poplar, Venus’ tree. She placed it on Calli’s globular stomach and smiled.
“May Venus watch over us during this blessed time and bring to you a healthy babe with the strength of its father and the cunning of its mother.”
She leaned down and kissed Calli’s brow as another contraction contorted her face, forcing a primordial growl from her lips. A warm gush of liquid against her thighs warned her that the pain was about to get much worse. She said a silent prayer to Aphrodite, took the hand which Augusta offered and squeezed it with all her strength.
It was growing dark outside. Calli could hear snatches of distant conversation from the men waiting outside when she paused to catch her breath. Augusta wiped her face and throat with damp cloths and did her best to offer comfort. Herminia had tied the poplar branch in place over her stomach to ease the babe’s exit from her womb. It was not helping.
Calli screamed.
Herminia urged her to push.
At long last she heard the cries of her newborn babe and Augusta whispering in her ear, “It’s a girl, Calli. You have a lovely girl.”
As Herminia placed the tiny child in her arms another burst of pain wracked her exhausted body. But that could not be. The pain was supposed to stop once the child was born. Augusta whisked the child away with a worried frown. Laurentus appeared in the doorway a grin of relief upon his bearded face.
“Get him out of here,” Herminia barked over her shoulder. In a voice meant only for Calli she said, “There is another babe yet to bring into this world.”
In her muddled state Calli did not understand fully what she had heard. Another?
“Push,” Herminia ordered. “Oh merciful Venus, look over this woman in her distress.”
Calli only wondered for a moment if she’d been meant to hear the prayer as well and then obeyed. If pushing this second child out of her body was the only way to end the suffering, then she would find a way to do so.
******
“You may come in, Laurentus.”
He looked up from his seat upon the ground outside at Augusta’s pale, tired face and sprang to his feet.
“The babe? Calli?”
“Come and see for yourself,” she whispered and shuffled back inside.
His wife lay upon their bed, her beautiful, round face streaked with dirt. Her flaxen hair clung to her face in sweaty clumps. Her eyes were closed. She was so still, so peaceful. It was as if the hours of pained screams he’d heard had never happened at all.
A tiny movement drew his eyes away from her face to the bundle in the crook of her arm. It mewled like an animal and Laurentus reached down to push back its wrappings. A wrinkled, purple face blinked up at him.
“Say hello to your daughter,” Calli whispered without opening her eyes.
Relief poured through his veins, warmer and sweeter than the feeling which came with having drunk too much wine. He leaned down and kissed his wife’s cheek.
“She will have to strive hard to match her mother’s beauty,” he murmured against her salty skin.
“And your son will have to work equally hard to be as dashing as his father.” She replied opening her eyes at last and hoisting a second bundle cradled in her other arm.
Laurentus dropped to his knees, with a mixture of elation and shock. A son and a daughter in one day? He would make certain to give Venus a proper sacrifice, for it was only through the goddess’ divine guidance that such a miracle could be possible. He had only time to kiss each of his babes on the tops of their heads before Herminia and Augusta hurried him out again so they could tend to Calli.
Eager eyes met him as he stepped into the fresh air once again. So great was his joy that Laurentus could only grin at them. Cassius spoke first.
“Well man, tell us the news. Have you a son or a daughter?”
Clamping a hand upon his old friend’s shoulder Laurentus shook his head in disbelief. “My dear Cassius, I have both.”
******
“Artemisia! Apollo!”
Putting her fingers to her lips, Artemisia implored her twin to keep silent. Their mother would punish her for it, but at seven the temptation to play games was far too great.
“Arrr-te-m-iii-sia! A-polll-o!”
She was closer. Apollo choked, trying to hold back his laughter. Artemisia cuffed him on the back of his head and scrunched her brows. He buried his face in both hands to further muffle the sound.
Footsteps approached their hiding place and stopped.
“Alright you two, come out of there.”
Artemisia pinched her lower lip between her teeth and stood. The bags of wheat reached only to her knees and without anything to cover them, they’d been easy to find. Apollo’s sweaty fingers intertwined with hers and squeezed.
“Mana, we’re sorry,” she whispered looking down at her dirty feet.
“Then hurry home so that you can help me finish the supper and chores,” she snapped, hands on her slender hips.
Artemisia scurried homeward, pulling Apollo behind her. Mana just missed her backside with a swift swat. Papa waited for them outside the hut door. His ruddy hair stood out in sweaty spikes from his hours of training in the yard. He ran his hand through it, making him look just as Artemisia imagined Jupiter himself did.
“So, where have you two been while your Mana was calling you?”
Her stomach felt like it was trying to leap out through her skin and she didn’t understand how her knees still had the strength to keep her from crumpling into the sand but Artemisia looked up at him. His eyes, so dark brown they were nearly black, smiled at her despite the frown on his face.
“We were only playing a game, Papa. We won’t do it again.”
“Hmm, best convince your Mana of that. She’s nearly here.”
Papa pointed behind them and in unison the twins turned to face her. Sunlight glinted off her beautiful golden hair, dancing along its curls. Artemisia wished she had curls as lovely as Mana’s. Her sky blue eyes snapped with irritation as she addressed Papa.
“Have they told you what they’ve been up to, Laurentus?”
“That they have.”
“Well, I’ve half a mind to switch the both of them until sitting would be a chore on its own.” She clamped a hand on first Artemisia’s shoulder and then Apollo’s and pushed them inside. “But I suppose this will have to do instead.”
Artemisia blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the cool dimness inside after the brilliant heat of the July afternoon. Familiar shadows dotted the hut. That black lump in the corner was the pallet she shared with her twin. The round blotch near the center of the room was Mana’s big cooking pot. Two strange shapes beside it drew her attention. They hadn’t been there before. At last she could see clearly.
The bundles were made of cloth. Mana handed the green one to Apollo and the deep blue one to her. “Happy birthday, my babies,” she whispered with tears shining in her eyes.
Artemisia cradled the bundle in her arms. It was heavy and tied with smooth, lavender ribbon instead of rough twine. She touched the luxury, feeling it slide effortlessly between her fingers. Apollo was already tearing at the cord binding his package. Not to be outdone by her younger brother, she pulled at the bow and gasped as it came open with ease. The cloth was a new tunic and the ribbon was meant to tie it at her waist. Nestled inside the tunic was a wooden sword, like the gladius Papa practiced with in the yard, but made just her size.
The new tunic forgotten, she took the weapon in her hand. It was solid and cool against her palm. She gave a tentative slash through the air. Seeing it, Apollo rose to challenge her.
“Stand up and defend yourself with honor,” he said, shuffling into a clumsy guard position.
“I will cut you down where you stand!” she shouted with glee.
“Not in here you won’t,” Mana warned. “Outside, both of you.” Then to Papa she said, “I knew those swords were a bad idea.”
As Artemisia rushed past him out the door she heard him chuckle. “They’re only children, my love; to them it’s only a game.”
“That’s what worries me.”
She heard no more of her parents’ conversation. The clack of her sword against Apollo’s drowned out all other sounds. When they’d worn themselves out, they went back inside where Mana had supper waiting. Barley porridge again.
After supper it was time for bed. Dawn would come early and she had to accompany Mana to The House. They would begin scrubbing the main hall’s floor tomorrow. It always took twice as long as the other rooms because the lanista, his family and guests tromped back and forth through it, heedless of the slave woman and her daughter who toiled at their feet.
But for tonight Artemisia was content. She fell asleep cradling her new sword. Her dreams were filled with battles in which she always emerged victorious.
******
One afternoon, not long after their birthday, Mana called Artemisia and Apollo to come and sit with her. With one twin snuggled beneath each arm she began.
“Have I told you the story about why I gave you your names?”
“Yes, Mana.” They intoned in unison. They’d heard the story so many times they both knew it by heart.
“I have?” She raised her delicate eyebrows in mock surprise. “But,” she whispered, suddenly secretive, “have I told you all of the story?”
“Yes, Mana.”
She grinned. “Are you sure?”
Artemisia felt her insides squirm. Was there really something new that Mana hadn’t told them before? A few moments passed in silence. She couldn’t tell what Apollo was thinking, but he seemed to be searching his memories just as she was.
“Please, tell us, Mana,” she begged at last, squeezing closer to her mother’s side. “Tell us all of the story.”
Mana kissed them each on the brow. “Alright, but you must promise not to interrupt, even if I tell you something you’ve heard before. It is all very important.”
“We won’t,” they answered together.
“The night you were born was very warm. Your Auntie Augusta was there and so was Herminia. They helped me bring you safely into the mortal world. But before that, you dwelt with Zeus and Hera on Mount Olympus, in Greece.”
“Mana,” Apollo whined, “you’ve told us this part before.”
Artemisia jabbed her elbow into his ribs, “Shh!”
Mana smiled and shook her head. “I thought you promised not to interrupt.”
Sorry, Mana.”
She gave Apollo a quick squeeze. “It’s alright, my treasure. Let’s see now, where was I? Oh of course, you were given to me by the gods as a blessing. It was only through their care that I was allowed to keep you both with me. Because you were born a girl,” here she kissed Artemisia on the nose, making her squirm and wipe the moistness away, “and you were born a boy,” she gave Apollo an identical kiss, “your names were already chosen. Zeus was blessed with his own twins –”
“I know! Let me tell this part, Mana! Please?” Artemisia couldn’t contain herself. This was her favorite part of the story.
“Very well, go ahead.”
“Um, Zeus’ twins are Artemis the moon goddess who never, ever got married and hunts with her friends and lots of big hounds.” She paused to glance at Mana who nodded encouragement.
"And Apollo the sun god who gives us warmth so crops can grow. Oh! And sometimes he helps his sister Athena in wars. Right?”
“Yes, Artemisia, you are right. But do you remember they were born of a mortal woman, just as you were? They were blessed with gifts and nothing could stand in their way. Let nothing stand in your ways either my babies. Your births were a miracle and your lives will be nothing short of extraordinary. Never doubt it. My heart knows that one day you will know more than the lives of slaves.”
“How do you know, Mana?”
“That is the part of the story I haven't told you yet, Artemisia.” She leaned down closer and whispered. “I know because the gods have told me in my dreams. When you are older, your names will be the most well-known in all of the Roman Empire.”
Artemisia gazed into her mother’s beautiful, solemn face and somehow she knew it would be so.
Kneeling, Calliope wiped the sweat from her brow and plunged the rag into the filthy water once more. With a grunt of effort she bent forward and continued to scrub the tile floor. Her enormous belly made the task even more difficult than usual, and the heat of the July sun did not ease her discomfort.
A wave of pain ripped through her abdomen and Calliope’s arms gave way beneath her weight. She rolled onto her side, gritting her teeth as she waited for the pain to cease. When it did, she went back to scrubbing. The baby was coming but it would be some time yet, and if she left the task unfinished her lanista would be angry. Childbirth was a natural function and no excuse for a slave to abandon her work.
When the floor was spotless, Calliope waddled into the courtyard and tossed the dirty water onto the sandy earth. She doubled over, stumbled and fell as another contraction seized her.
“Calli!” Augusta rushed to her side. “The baby comes?”
Calli nodded, unable to speak. Augusta helped her up, and whispering encouragement led her toward home. Laurentus had made their dwelling comfortable during the years of their marriage. As his fame as a gladiator grew he’d been allowed to keep a larger portion of his winnings, and Calli was grateful that her child would be born into a household of plenty.
“Lie back, dear.” Augusta lifted Calli’s feet for her and helped her to lean back against the wall.
“I’ll fetch Herminia.”
Calli wanted to beg her to stay; the last thing she wanted now was to be alone. If she were still at home in Thebes her mother and sisters would have been by her side. She took a deep breath as the pain ebbed. This was not her first labor. The previous two had borne her only silent babes. But Herminia was a devotee of Venus, the Romans’ name for Aphrodite, goddess of motherhood. Her presence would surely bless this birth. She closed her eyes and tried to relax.
Soon she heard footsteps and opened her eyes to the sight of Augusta ushering in Herminia who carried a branch newly broken from a poplar, Venus’ tree. She placed it on Calli’s globular stomach and smiled.
“May Venus watch over us during this blessed time and bring to you a healthy babe with the strength of its father and the cunning of its mother.”
She leaned down and kissed Calli’s brow as another contraction contorted her face, forcing a primordial growl from her lips. A warm gush of liquid against her thighs warned her that the pain was about to get much worse. She said a silent prayer to Aphrodite, took the hand which Augusta offered and squeezed it with all her strength.
It was growing dark outside. Calli could hear snatches of distant conversation from the men waiting outside when she paused to catch her breath. Augusta wiped her face and throat with damp cloths and did her best to offer comfort. Herminia had tied the poplar branch in place over her stomach to ease the babe’s exit from her womb. It was not helping.
Calli screamed.
Herminia urged her to push.
At long last she heard the cries of her newborn babe and Augusta whispering in her ear, “It’s a girl, Calli. You have a lovely girl.”
As Herminia placed the tiny child in her arms another burst of pain wracked her exhausted body. But that could not be. The pain was supposed to stop once the child was born. Augusta whisked the child away with a worried frown. Laurentus appeared in the doorway a grin of relief upon his bearded face.
“Get him out of here,” Herminia barked over her shoulder. In a voice meant only for Calli she said, “There is another babe yet to bring into this world.”
In her muddled state Calli did not understand fully what she had heard. Another?
“Push,” Herminia ordered. “Oh merciful Venus, look over this woman in her distress.”
Calli only wondered for a moment if she’d been meant to hear the prayer as well and then obeyed. If pushing this second child out of her body was the only way to end the suffering, then she would find a way to do so.
******
“You may come in, Laurentus.”
He looked up from his seat upon the ground outside at Augusta’s pale, tired face and sprang to his feet.
“The babe? Calli?”
“Come and see for yourself,” she whispered and shuffled back inside.
His wife lay upon their bed, her beautiful, round face streaked with dirt. Her flaxen hair clung to her face in sweaty clumps. Her eyes were closed. She was so still, so peaceful. It was as if the hours of pained screams he’d heard had never happened at all.
A tiny movement drew his eyes away from her face to the bundle in the crook of her arm. It mewled like an animal and Laurentus reached down to push back its wrappings. A wrinkled, purple face blinked up at him.
“Say hello to your daughter,” Calli whispered without opening her eyes.
Relief poured through his veins, warmer and sweeter than the feeling which came with having drunk too much wine. He leaned down and kissed his wife’s cheek.
“She will have to strive hard to match her mother’s beauty,” he murmured against her salty skin.
“And your son will have to work equally hard to be as dashing as his father.” She replied opening her eyes at last and hoisting a second bundle cradled in her other arm.
Laurentus dropped to his knees, with a mixture of elation and shock. A son and a daughter in one day? He would make certain to give Venus a proper sacrifice, for it was only through the goddess’ divine guidance that such a miracle could be possible. He had only time to kiss each of his babes on the tops of their heads before Herminia and Augusta hurried him out again so they could tend to Calli.
Eager eyes met him as he stepped into the fresh air once again. So great was his joy that Laurentus could only grin at them. Cassius spoke first.
“Well man, tell us the news. Have you a son or a daughter?”
Clamping a hand upon his old friend’s shoulder Laurentus shook his head in disbelief. “My dear Cassius, I have both.”
******
“Artemisia! Apollo!”
Putting her fingers to her lips, Artemisia implored her twin to keep silent. Their mother would punish her for it, but at seven the temptation to play games was far too great.
“Arrr-te-m-iii-sia! A-polll-o!”
She was closer. Apollo choked, trying to hold back his laughter. Artemisia cuffed him on the back of his head and scrunched her brows. He buried his face in both hands to further muffle the sound.
Footsteps approached their hiding place and stopped.
“Alright you two, come out of there.”
Artemisia pinched her lower lip between her teeth and stood. The bags of wheat reached only to her knees and without anything to cover them, they’d been easy to find. Apollo’s sweaty fingers intertwined with hers and squeezed.
“Mana, we’re sorry,” she whispered looking down at her dirty feet.
“Then hurry home so that you can help me finish the supper and chores,” she snapped, hands on her slender hips.
Artemisia scurried homeward, pulling Apollo behind her. Mana just missed her backside with a swift swat. Papa waited for them outside the hut door. His ruddy hair stood out in sweaty spikes from his hours of training in the yard. He ran his hand through it, making him look just as Artemisia imagined Jupiter himself did.
“So, where have you two been while your Mana was calling you?”
Her stomach felt like it was trying to leap out through her skin and she didn’t understand how her knees still had the strength to keep her from crumpling into the sand but Artemisia looked up at him. His eyes, so dark brown they were nearly black, smiled at her despite the frown on his face.
“We were only playing a game, Papa. We won’t do it again.”
“Hmm, best convince your Mana of that. She’s nearly here.”
Papa pointed behind them and in unison the twins turned to face her. Sunlight glinted off her beautiful golden hair, dancing along its curls. Artemisia wished she had curls as lovely as Mana’s. Her sky blue eyes snapped with irritation as she addressed Papa.
“Have they told you what they’ve been up to, Laurentus?”
“That they have.”
“Well, I’ve half a mind to switch the both of them until sitting would be a chore on its own.” She clamped a hand on first Artemisia’s shoulder and then Apollo’s and pushed them inside. “But I suppose this will have to do instead.”
Artemisia blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the cool dimness inside after the brilliant heat of the July afternoon. Familiar shadows dotted the hut. That black lump in the corner was the pallet she shared with her twin. The round blotch near the center of the room was Mana’s big cooking pot. Two strange shapes beside it drew her attention. They hadn’t been there before. At last she could see clearly.
The bundles were made of cloth. Mana handed the green one to Apollo and the deep blue one to her. “Happy birthday, my babies,” she whispered with tears shining in her eyes.
Artemisia cradled the bundle in her arms. It was heavy and tied with smooth, lavender ribbon instead of rough twine. She touched the luxury, feeling it slide effortlessly between her fingers. Apollo was already tearing at the cord binding his package. Not to be outdone by her younger brother, she pulled at the bow and gasped as it came open with ease. The cloth was a new tunic and the ribbon was meant to tie it at her waist. Nestled inside the tunic was a wooden sword, like the gladius Papa practiced with in the yard, but made just her size.
The new tunic forgotten, she took the weapon in her hand. It was solid and cool against her palm. She gave a tentative slash through the air. Seeing it, Apollo rose to challenge her.
“Stand up and defend yourself with honor,” he said, shuffling into a clumsy guard position.
“I will cut you down where you stand!” she shouted with glee.
“Not in here you won’t,” Mana warned. “Outside, both of you.” Then to Papa she said, “I knew those swords were a bad idea.”
As Artemisia rushed past him out the door she heard him chuckle. “They’re only children, my love; to them it’s only a game.”
“That’s what worries me.”
She heard no more of her parents’ conversation. The clack of her sword against Apollo’s drowned out all other sounds. When they’d worn themselves out, they went back inside where Mana had supper waiting. Barley porridge again.
After supper it was time for bed. Dawn would come early and she had to accompany Mana to The House. They would begin scrubbing the main hall’s floor tomorrow. It always took twice as long as the other rooms because the lanista, his family and guests tromped back and forth through it, heedless of the slave woman and her daughter who toiled at their feet.
But for tonight Artemisia was content. She fell asleep cradling her new sword. Her dreams were filled with battles in which she always emerged victorious.
******
One afternoon, not long after their birthday, Mana called Artemisia and Apollo to come and sit with her. With one twin snuggled beneath each arm she began.
“Have I told you the story about why I gave you your names?”
“Yes, Mana.” They intoned in unison. They’d heard the story so many times they both knew it by heart.
“I have?” She raised her delicate eyebrows in mock surprise. “But,” she whispered, suddenly secretive, “have I told you all of the story?”
“Yes, Mana.”
She grinned. “Are you sure?”
Artemisia felt her insides squirm. Was there really something new that Mana hadn’t told them before? A few moments passed in silence. She couldn’t tell what Apollo was thinking, but he seemed to be searching his memories just as she was.
“Please, tell us, Mana,” she begged at last, squeezing closer to her mother’s side. “Tell us all of the story.”
Mana kissed them each on the brow. “Alright, but you must promise not to interrupt, even if I tell you something you’ve heard before. It is all very important.”
“We won’t,” they answered together.
“The night you were born was very warm. Your Auntie Augusta was there and so was Herminia. They helped me bring you safely into the mortal world. But before that, you dwelt with Zeus and Hera on Mount Olympus, in Greece.”
“Mana,” Apollo whined, “you’ve told us this part before.”
Artemisia jabbed her elbow into his ribs, “Shh!”
Mana smiled and shook her head. “I thought you promised not to interrupt.”
Sorry, Mana.”
She gave Apollo a quick squeeze. “It’s alright, my treasure. Let’s see now, where was I? Oh of course, you were given to me by the gods as a blessing. It was only through their care that I was allowed to keep you both with me. Because you were born a girl,” here she kissed Artemisia on the nose, making her squirm and wipe the moistness away, “and you were born a boy,” she gave Apollo an identical kiss, “your names were already chosen. Zeus was blessed with his own twins –”
“I know! Let me tell this part, Mana! Please?” Artemisia couldn’t contain herself. This was her favorite part of the story.
“Very well, go ahead.”
“Um, Zeus’ twins are Artemis the moon goddess who never, ever got married and hunts with her friends and lots of big hounds.” She paused to glance at Mana who nodded encouragement.
"And Apollo the sun god who gives us warmth so crops can grow. Oh! And sometimes he helps his sister Athena in wars. Right?”
“Yes, Artemisia, you are right. But do you remember they were born of a mortal woman, just as you were? They were blessed with gifts and nothing could stand in their way. Let nothing stand in your ways either my babies. Your births were a miracle and your lives will be nothing short of extraordinary. Never doubt it. My heart knows that one day you will know more than the lives of slaves.”
“How do you know, Mana?”
“That is the part of the story I haven't told you yet, Artemisia.” She leaned down closer and whispered. “I know because the gods have told me in my dreams. When you are older, your names will be the most well-known in all of the Roman Empire.”
Artemisia gazed into her mother’s beautiful, solemn face and somehow she knew it would be so.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Sample chapter part 2 - Light of Avondell
The Byrume lumbered away, snuffling at the air like a beast.
“Did you find it?” the higher pitched voice called out.
“No.”
She waited and listened as they searched for her, never going far from where she hid. Aria closed her eyes. Summoning all the courage in her body she thought about mice, their soft, furry bodies and large keen ears. With a faint glimmer, she crouched upon four delicate paws. Her whiskers and ears twitched as she tested her surroundings. Only her pale eyes, swirling with a rainbow of colors, betrayed that she was not a true mouse. She dashed from her hiding place and into the open, but she’d underestimated her pursuers’ senses.
“There, the mouse!”
The ground shook and branches snapped as they chased her.
She ran faster on four legs than on her usual two and soon widened the gap between them. Again she hid herself. Her heart raced, and her breathing was labored, but she was alive. Concealed in a small clump of ferns, she waited. They were careless, stepping on twigs and scuffing leaves across the forest floor.
The sudden silence made the hairs on her body stand on end. Her flesh tightened with fear, and she felt herself begin to Flicker. The foliage around her started to glow with a pale purple light, soft at first and then bright enough to make her squint. The dewdrops sparkled with rainbows as her concentration broke and her disguise disintegrated.
The snap of twigs and crunch of leaves roared in her ears as they bore down upon her. An obese face, twisted with rage, loomed over her. She crouched, shielding her head with her forearms.
“Inetaus, pryubus, curundei, myanti!”
The spell spilled from her lips in the faintest of whispers, but it was enough. Just as the soil-blackened hands of the Byrume closed around her, Aria was gone.
She opened her eyes a sliver at a time until the forest around her was in full focus. She smoothed her hair with one hand and made a slow turn. The spell had saved her from the Byrumes but it had not taken her home as she intended.
“What went wrong?” she whispered. Now that she was away from the putrid, oily-skinned Byrumes there was time to concentrate. She knelt in the damp moss and breathed in its earthy scent.
The sensation of Transportation was uncomfortable at best. It felt like being pulled apart by scavengers a bit at a time and scattered on the wind. She had learned the spell only two weeks before, and Madame Hekwryn had forbidden her students to use it outside of the classroom until they had mastered it. But she had no choice. Aria focused on The Old One. With her fingers digging into her knees, she said in a firm, steady voice, “Inetaus, pryubus, curundei, myanti.”
This time she didn’t have to open her eyes to know the spell had worked. All around her the sounds of home rang out cheerful, comforting and safe. Hutton hawked his wares as he wheeled his cart up and down the tree’s strong limbs. A group of youngsters giggled and screeched as they raced past her in an energetic game of Pintelle. She remembered her own younger years spent doing the same. When she had the Pintelle in her hand and Sarshyn held the Goffer, they were unstoppable.
Sarshyn.
He would be worried. In a moment of spitefulness she almost decided to let him fret for a while longer, but instead made her way back to the Western Branch. He was waiting for her on the stairs leading to the next level. His glow brightened, and he leapt to his feet.
“Why did you actually go out there? Are you alright?”
Aria stopped a few steps away and swept a few strands of hair off of her face. “I’m fine. Two Byrumes saw me, but I used the Transportation spell to escape.”
“You really are insane, aren’t you?” he asked giving her a hug, then grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “Don’t ever do that again.”
She was too relieved by her escape to be angry with him. The pure joy and relief in his honey-gold eyes made her soften even further. “Agreed, as long as you don’t question my character.”
Sarshyn shook his head and grinned. “You’re impossible.”
“And so are you, that’s why we make such a good pair.”
They walked together as far as the granary.
“I’ll see you in the morning for sword training,” she said as he ducked inside.
“I’ll be by to pick you up after breakfast, as usual.” With a wave he disappeared from view.
Aria dawdled on her way home.
Butternut oil lamps flickered in mainrooms, casting their light over dining tables laden with evening meals. Entry stones, flat and polished from Rings of use, were swept clean and awaited the arrivals of their masters and mistresses.
Korynna lived in the cottage with the sky-blue door. The house with the beautifully carved windowsills belonged to Harkinn and his wife Albianne. They expected their first child within the week. Moordecai and his brother, Ismial, shared the house next door. It always smelled of bainberry leaf smoke and pickled needlenuts. She paused to peep in at Gemella and Rees as they danced together without any music. When Rees noticed her, he winked and grinned. Embarrassed, Aria’s glow flushed a deep magenta, and she scurried away. Her home was just up ahead.
Smoke curled from the riverstone chimney. The sun’s rays sifted through the branches and splashed across the thick sod roof. Father believed that thatching was a fire hazard and wooden shingles were far too pricey. She’d grown to love the soft green of it, which her mother tended to with her knowledge of plant magic. The simple boards of the outer walls had silvered with age. In certain light they glimmered like her father’s hair.
She heaved a huge sigh. It would take an imaginative excuse to keep her from punishment this time. Her clothes were smeared with mud; the left leg of her trousers was torn from knee to ankle. They had been her last unpatched pair. Mama would be furious. She hesitated on the entry stone, took a deep breath and pulled the handle down. The door swung inward and the warmth of the room washed over her. Aria hadn’t realized how tired she was until that moment.
At the sound of the door, her mother, Asym, turned away from the stove. When she saw the state of her daughter’s clothing, the welcoming smile on her delicate face turned to a scowl, and the pale emerald glow around her lithe frame darkened.
“What have you done now?”
She’d decided upon the perfect lie on her way home, so without faltering, Aria looked her mother in the eye and said, “I was playing Pintelle with some of the youngsters and fell from one of the lower branches.”
She was too old for children’s games so she held her breath as Mama crossed the room and took her chin between her pine-scented hands.
“Are you hurt?”
Somehow she managed to shake her head no with her face sandwiched between Mama’s strong hands.
“Thank Lady Livnia you’re alright,” she whispered clutching Aria to her breast.
The genuine concern in her mother’s leaf-green eyes as she fussed over her made Aria feel a twinge of guilt; Mama’s earth Guide made her steady and calm, except when it came to her only child.
“No, I’m fine, but I ruined my trousers. I’m sorry.”
“Trousers,” her mother snorted, “you think I’d be concerned over the state of your trousers when you might have been killed?” She was ushering Aria toward the bathing room, “Go wash up and put on some clean clothes. I’ll fix your trousers tomorrow.”
“Did you find it?” the higher pitched voice called out.
“No.”
She waited and listened as they searched for her, never going far from where she hid. Aria closed her eyes. Summoning all the courage in her body she thought about mice, their soft, furry bodies and large keen ears. With a faint glimmer, she crouched upon four delicate paws. Her whiskers and ears twitched as she tested her surroundings. Only her pale eyes, swirling with a rainbow of colors, betrayed that she was not a true mouse. She dashed from her hiding place and into the open, but she’d underestimated her pursuers’ senses.
“There, the mouse!”
The ground shook and branches snapped as they chased her.
She ran faster on four legs than on her usual two and soon widened the gap between them. Again she hid herself. Her heart raced, and her breathing was labored, but she was alive. Concealed in a small clump of ferns, she waited. They were careless, stepping on twigs and scuffing leaves across the forest floor.
The sudden silence made the hairs on her body stand on end. Her flesh tightened with fear, and she felt herself begin to Flicker. The foliage around her started to glow with a pale purple light, soft at first and then bright enough to make her squint. The dewdrops sparkled with rainbows as her concentration broke and her disguise disintegrated.
The snap of twigs and crunch of leaves roared in her ears as they bore down upon her. An obese face, twisted with rage, loomed over her. She crouched, shielding her head with her forearms.
“Inetaus, pryubus, curundei, myanti!”
The spell spilled from her lips in the faintest of whispers, but it was enough. Just as the soil-blackened hands of the Byrume closed around her, Aria was gone.
She opened her eyes a sliver at a time until the forest around her was in full focus. She smoothed her hair with one hand and made a slow turn. The spell had saved her from the Byrumes but it had not taken her home as she intended.
“What went wrong?” she whispered. Now that she was away from the putrid, oily-skinned Byrumes there was time to concentrate. She knelt in the damp moss and breathed in its earthy scent.
The sensation of Transportation was uncomfortable at best. It felt like being pulled apart by scavengers a bit at a time and scattered on the wind. She had learned the spell only two weeks before, and Madame Hekwryn had forbidden her students to use it outside of the classroom until they had mastered it. But she had no choice. Aria focused on The Old One. With her fingers digging into her knees, she said in a firm, steady voice, “Inetaus, pryubus, curundei, myanti.”
This time she didn’t have to open her eyes to know the spell had worked. All around her the sounds of home rang out cheerful, comforting and safe. Hutton hawked his wares as he wheeled his cart up and down the tree’s strong limbs. A group of youngsters giggled and screeched as they raced past her in an energetic game of Pintelle. She remembered her own younger years spent doing the same. When she had the Pintelle in her hand and Sarshyn held the Goffer, they were unstoppable.
Sarshyn.
He would be worried. In a moment of spitefulness she almost decided to let him fret for a while longer, but instead made her way back to the Western Branch. He was waiting for her on the stairs leading to the next level. His glow brightened, and he leapt to his feet.
“Why did you actually go out there? Are you alright?”
Aria stopped a few steps away and swept a few strands of hair off of her face. “I’m fine. Two Byrumes saw me, but I used the Transportation spell to escape.”
“You really are insane, aren’t you?” he asked giving her a hug, then grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “Don’t ever do that again.”
She was too relieved by her escape to be angry with him. The pure joy and relief in his honey-gold eyes made her soften even further. “Agreed, as long as you don’t question my character.”
Sarshyn shook his head and grinned. “You’re impossible.”
“And so are you, that’s why we make such a good pair.”
They walked together as far as the granary.
“I’ll see you in the morning for sword training,” she said as he ducked inside.
“I’ll be by to pick you up after breakfast, as usual.” With a wave he disappeared from view.
Aria dawdled on her way home.
Butternut oil lamps flickered in mainrooms, casting their light over dining tables laden with evening meals. Entry stones, flat and polished from Rings of use, were swept clean and awaited the arrivals of their masters and mistresses.
Korynna lived in the cottage with the sky-blue door. The house with the beautifully carved windowsills belonged to Harkinn and his wife Albianne. They expected their first child within the week. Moordecai and his brother, Ismial, shared the house next door. It always smelled of bainberry leaf smoke and pickled needlenuts. She paused to peep in at Gemella and Rees as they danced together without any music. When Rees noticed her, he winked and grinned. Embarrassed, Aria’s glow flushed a deep magenta, and she scurried away. Her home was just up ahead.
Smoke curled from the riverstone chimney. The sun’s rays sifted through the branches and splashed across the thick sod roof. Father believed that thatching was a fire hazard and wooden shingles were far too pricey. She’d grown to love the soft green of it, which her mother tended to with her knowledge of plant magic. The simple boards of the outer walls had silvered with age. In certain light they glimmered like her father’s hair.
She heaved a huge sigh. It would take an imaginative excuse to keep her from punishment this time. Her clothes were smeared with mud; the left leg of her trousers was torn from knee to ankle. They had been her last unpatched pair. Mama would be furious. She hesitated on the entry stone, took a deep breath and pulled the handle down. The door swung inward and the warmth of the room washed over her. Aria hadn’t realized how tired she was until that moment.
At the sound of the door, her mother, Asym, turned away from the stove. When she saw the state of her daughter’s clothing, the welcoming smile on her delicate face turned to a scowl, and the pale emerald glow around her lithe frame darkened.
“What have you done now?”
She’d decided upon the perfect lie on her way home, so without faltering, Aria looked her mother in the eye and said, “I was playing Pintelle with some of the youngsters and fell from one of the lower branches.”
She was too old for children’s games so she held her breath as Mama crossed the room and took her chin between her pine-scented hands.
“Are you hurt?”
Somehow she managed to shake her head no with her face sandwiched between Mama’s strong hands.
“Thank Lady Livnia you’re alright,” she whispered clutching Aria to her breast.
The genuine concern in her mother’s leaf-green eyes as she fussed over her made Aria feel a twinge of guilt; Mama’s earth Guide made her steady and calm, except when it came to her only child.
“No, I’m fine, but I ruined my trousers. I’m sorry.”
“Trousers,” her mother snorted, “you think I’d be concerned over the state of your trousers when you might have been killed?” She was ushering Aria toward the bathing room, “Go wash up and put on some clean clothes. I’ll fix your trousers tomorrow.”
Friday, January 9, 2009
Sample chapter - Light of Avondell
The idea for my first complete manuscript came to me in a flash of inspiration. I was brainstorming for a short story idea as a distraction from my writing project at the time. An image popped into my head and it was the first time I'd gotten a story idea in the form of a crystal clear scene. I decided to expand it, and voila! Aria was born. So, without further ado, here is the first half of chapter one.
Light of Avondell
© 2008 Kaycee A. Looney
Chapter 1 – Close Call
Sarshyn started it.
On the way home after sword training, he poked an orange elbow into Aria’s ribs. “I bet we’re ready to join the army don’t you?” He swished his sword in a crazy series of swirls and zigzags that made no real defense or attack, and she laughed.
“Not with sword play like that. Besides, these practice blades aren’t even sharp.”
He pretended to pout. “You always spoil my fun.”
Aria grinned and brought her sword down on his wrist with a loud smack. His glow flashed a deep red and returned to its usual shade of sunset orange as he rubbed the welt she left behind.
“If you really wish to fight, then I challenge you to a duel!” she said in her best impression of their swordplay instructor, and stepped back. Settling her weight evenly on both feet, she brought her sword up as Kyrlan had taught them, and waited for Sarshyn’s response. He mirrored her stance.
“I accept, and the winner decides the loser’s punishment.”
His fire Guide made him easier to upset than Duendes Guided by earth, water or wind and Aria took advantage of that more often than she should have. It was always fun to antagonize him. She knew the look in his golden eyes; he was angry, but she stood her ground as he advanced. Little wisps of crimson that matched his hair sliced through the orange glow around his lean body as he raised his sword.
They battled in silence on The Old One’s wide, smooth branch. The only sound was the clinking of metal upon metal as their swords crossed again and again. He feinted left, and she moved to block him, but he thrust forward instead. The tip of his sword sunk into the soft flesh of her stomach a little harder than necessary.
“I acknowledge your victory.” Suppressing a grimace of pain, Aria bowed in the traditional pose of defeat with her arms perpendicular to her sides and her ankles crossed, left over right. When she met his eyes again, the anger was replaced by his usual mischievousness.
“I have the perfect punishment for you.” He smiled and slipped the sword into his belt. “You have to go west.”
Laughter spluttered out between her teeth as she clenched her sides to try and squelch it. He couldn’t be serious. Every Duende knew it was foolish and forbidden to go beyond the borders of their own land. Within Avondell King Atrian’s magic was able to protect them, but once a Duende was outside the reach of his enchantment they were in great danger. Did he want her to get eaten by a Byrume? After a few minutes she regained her composure and looked at him again. His face was placid and a little annoyed.
“You can’t mean that.” She stepped closer and laid her hand on his warm arm.
He shrugged away, “If you’re afraid, that’s alright. I mean, you are a girl.”
She felt the blood rush to her face, and the soft purple light wavering upon her lavender skin flashed a blinding white. “I’m not a coward, and you know it, Sarshyn!” She flicked her long, sapphire hair over her shoulder and stalked away with her best friend close at her heels.
They passed the granary with its expensive shingled roof. Hutton was hauling a large cottonflower cloth sack into the storeroom, sweat poured down his broad, bare shoulders. The scent of fresh-baked bread flowed over them through the bakery’s open door. The baker’s wife, Galinia, was placing the last few rolls onto her husband’s cart before he began his afternoon selling route. She wiped her pale blue hands on her yellow dress, smiled and waved to them.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry little Shifty One?”
“Nowhere,” Aria snapped. She hated that nickname. Being born a Shifter wasn’t something she’d asked for.
“Sorry we can’t stop and chat,” Sarshyn apologized as he jogged to catch up to her again. “That was rude,” he whispered.
“I don’t care.” She could feel her anger bubbling inside her, like lava threatening to burst from a volcano. Being ruled by all four Duendean Guides instead of just one was never easy, but her fire Guide was the most difficult to control. If he said one more word she wasn’t sure what she’d do.
Dodging youngsters and adults going about their daily routines, the two of them continued past the simple board and thatch houses until they reached the lowest branch on the west side of The Old One.
Today Burz and her cousin Fyn were on watch. If Fyn saw her that would be the end of it, he would tell her father. Shuddering at the thought of how he might punish her, she pressed her body against the smooth bark of the ancient tree’s trunk and held her breath. But she wasn’t going to let Sarshyn win.
“You don’t really have to,” he whispered, clutching at her shoulder. “I was onl–”
“Shut up! I’m going.” She knew when she was really angry, her eyes Shifted color and it scared him. Aria imagined they were melting between fiery orange and blood red. It made her feel a little better.
There was one way that she could be certain Fyn wouldn’t see her. Well, at least he wouldn’t know it was her he was seeing. Sarshyn was the only one who knew about this aspect of her Shifting ability. With her eyes closed, Aria concentrated. In a flash of soft white light, she was a small brown lizard with a pale blue stripe down its back. Sarshyn sucked air through his teeth, and his eyes lost their fire. She flicked out her pink lizard tongue and licked her right eyeball, then winked at him.
He shook his head from side to side. “Aria, don’t you could get –”
But she heard no more of his protest; she was scurrying headfirst down the weathered trunk. Dry leaves crackled beneath her cool lizard toes as she slid to the ground.
“It’s just a lizard, Burz. Go back to your post.” Fyn called from overhead.
With a smug flick of her tail, Aria scuttled across the forest floor and out of sight beneath some bainberry bushes. Once it was safe, she relinquished her disguise and crept through the undergrowth with as much stealth as she could. The air was suffocating amongst the close-growing clumps of brush.
“Sarshyn, idiot,” she mumbled parting the fronds of a fiddlehead fern with her hands. “I’ll show him who’s a girl.”
They both knew being female didn’t make her any less worthy. Yet somehow, when he insinuated that it did, she rose to the challenge. It had been that way since they were just youngsters. He teased her. She reacted. But she had to admit it worked both ways.
As they’d gotten older, the challenge had become more like a joke, but not this time. She was seventeen Rings old, but he always knew how to get under her skin. There was no other Duende on the entire planet of Eldunom who could irritate her so easily. So now here she was tromping through the forest without any purpose or protection even though she was quite old enough to know better.
Aria paused to wipe a sweaty lock of azure hair from her cheek, turning to look over her shoulder as she did. The Old One no longer loomed above the undergrowth. She’d proven her point. It was time to go home. All she had to do was follow her back trail and she would be at the base of the great tree in no time. Only there was no back trail to follow. The path she’d pushed aside in the dense vegetation had sprung back to its original place, leaving no sign that she had passed. Her light wavered.
Scanning the ferns and grasses nearby for any bruising or breakage, she waded into the greenery and leaned close to inspect the individual blades. Off to her right, she heard voices. They were coming closer.
Aria crouched low to the ground.
“I tell you I smell one of those Duendes. It’s close.”
A second voice, higher in pitch but with more authority answered, “You’re imagining things. If there were one Duende, there’d be at least a hundred, and we’d both smell’em. They always travel in swarms like bugs.”
In spite of her mounting panic, that gave her an idea. She thought about dragonflies and saw herself soaring into the sky unnoticed. But before she could Shift one of the Byrumes took a step closer. She flashed blue with terror.
“There! Did you see that?” the first one shouted. “I told you there was a Duende here!”
Then she was running. It didn’t matter in which direction, as long as she kept moving. Aria sped through the forest. She was alone, without a weapon, and if they caught her, there was no hope of rescue. She didn’t see the bainberry bush until it was too late.
The thorns tore at her hair, skin and clothes. The brush snapped as they lumbered toward her. She jerked her leg free and heard the distinct rip of fabric as her trouser leg split. Then she was running again. Stalks of asucarr and whips of firenettle slapped her face, but her mind was filled with stories her twin cousins, Fyn and Gynn, had told her about Byrumes.
They’re fifty lengths tall with long scraggly hair that’s so dirty, it’s green with mold and slime, Gynn’s musical, lilting voice tittered in her brain.
They have six rows of razor sharp teeth and hooked noses so they can smell us better in the underbrush, Fyn laughed. Byrumes use the oil off their skin for cooking their food, and if they catch you, you’re sure to be on the menu.
Aria used to think they were making up the stories just to see if they could scare her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a shiny pink face crowned with green slimy hair peering into the bushes less than twenty lengths from her. She huddled beneath a leaf and tried to make the light on her skin as dim as possible. Panic fluttered at the back of her throat, tickling like a spider’s web as she tried to slow her breathing. The Byrume lumbered away, snuffling at the air like a beast.
Light of Avondell
© 2008 Kaycee A. Looney
Chapter 1 – Close Call
Sarshyn started it.
On the way home after sword training, he poked an orange elbow into Aria’s ribs. “I bet we’re ready to join the army don’t you?” He swished his sword in a crazy series of swirls and zigzags that made no real defense or attack, and she laughed.
“Not with sword play like that. Besides, these practice blades aren’t even sharp.”
He pretended to pout. “You always spoil my fun.”
Aria grinned and brought her sword down on his wrist with a loud smack. His glow flashed a deep red and returned to its usual shade of sunset orange as he rubbed the welt she left behind.
“If you really wish to fight, then I challenge you to a duel!” she said in her best impression of their swordplay instructor, and stepped back. Settling her weight evenly on both feet, she brought her sword up as Kyrlan had taught them, and waited for Sarshyn’s response. He mirrored her stance.
“I accept, and the winner decides the loser’s punishment.”
His fire Guide made him easier to upset than Duendes Guided by earth, water or wind and Aria took advantage of that more often than she should have. It was always fun to antagonize him. She knew the look in his golden eyes; he was angry, but she stood her ground as he advanced. Little wisps of crimson that matched his hair sliced through the orange glow around his lean body as he raised his sword.
They battled in silence on The Old One’s wide, smooth branch. The only sound was the clinking of metal upon metal as their swords crossed again and again. He feinted left, and she moved to block him, but he thrust forward instead. The tip of his sword sunk into the soft flesh of her stomach a little harder than necessary.
“I acknowledge your victory.” Suppressing a grimace of pain, Aria bowed in the traditional pose of defeat with her arms perpendicular to her sides and her ankles crossed, left over right. When she met his eyes again, the anger was replaced by his usual mischievousness.
“I have the perfect punishment for you.” He smiled and slipped the sword into his belt. “You have to go west.”
Laughter spluttered out between her teeth as she clenched her sides to try and squelch it. He couldn’t be serious. Every Duende knew it was foolish and forbidden to go beyond the borders of their own land. Within Avondell King Atrian’s magic was able to protect them, but once a Duende was outside the reach of his enchantment they were in great danger. Did he want her to get eaten by a Byrume? After a few minutes she regained her composure and looked at him again. His face was placid and a little annoyed.
“You can’t mean that.” She stepped closer and laid her hand on his warm arm.
He shrugged away, “If you’re afraid, that’s alright. I mean, you are a girl.”
She felt the blood rush to her face, and the soft purple light wavering upon her lavender skin flashed a blinding white. “I’m not a coward, and you know it, Sarshyn!” She flicked her long, sapphire hair over her shoulder and stalked away with her best friend close at her heels.
They passed the granary with its expensive shingled roof. Hutton was hauling a large cottonflower cloth sack into the storeroom, sweat poured down his broad, bare shoulders. The scent of fresh-baked bread flowed over them through the bakery’s open door. The baker’s wife, Galinia, was placing the last few rolls onto her husband’s cart before he began his afternoon selling route. She wiped her pale blue hands on her yellow dress, smiled and waved to them.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry little Shifty One?”
“Nowhere,” Aria snapped. She hated that nickname. Being born a Shifter wasn’t something she’d asked for.
“Sorry we can’t stop and chat,” Sarshyn apologized as he jogged to catch up to her again. “That was rude,” he whispered.
“I don’t care.” She could feel her anger bubbling inside her, like lava threatening to burst from a volcano. Being ruled by all four Duendean Guides instead of just one was never easy, but her fire Guide was the most difficult to control. If he said one more word she wasn’t sure what she’d do.
Dodging youngsters and adults going about their daily routines, the two of them continued past the simple board and thatch houses until they reached the lowest branch on the west side of The Old One.
Today Burz and her cousin Fyn were on watch. If Fyn saw her that would be the end of it, he would tell her father. Shuddering at the thought of how he might punish her, she pressed her body against the smooth bark of the ancient tree’s trunk and held her breath. But she wasn’t going to let Sarshyn win.
“You don’t really have to,” he whispered, clutching at her shoulder. “I was onl–”
“Shut up! I’m going.” She knew when she was really angry, her eyes Shifted color and it scared him. Aria imagined they were melting between fiery orange and blood red. It made her feel a little better.
There was one way that she could be certain Fyn wouldn’t see her. Well, at least he wouldn’t know it was her he was seeing. Sarshyn was the only one who knew about this aspect of her Shifting ability. With her eyes closed, Aria concentrated. In a flash of soft white light, she was a small brown lizard with a pale blue stripe down its back. Sarshyn sucked air through his teeth, and his eyes lost their fire. She flicked out her pink lizard tongue and licked her right eyeball, then winked at him.
He shook his head from side to side. “Aria, don’t you could get –”
But she heard no more of his protest; she was scurrying headfirst down the weathered trunk. Dry leaves crackled beneath her cool lizard toes as she slid to the ground.
“It’s just a lizard, Burz. Go back to your post.” Fyn called from overhead.
With a smug flick of her tail, Aria scuttled across the forest floor and out of sight beneath some bainberry bushes. Once it was safe, she relinquished her disguise and crept through the undergrowth with as much stealth as she could. The air was suffocating amongst the close-growing clumps of brush.
“Sarshyn, idiot,” she mumbled parting the fronds of a fiddlehead fern with her hands. “I’ll show him who’s a girl.”
They both knew being female didn’t make her any less worthy. Yet somehow, when he insinuated that it did, she rose to the challenge. It had been that way since they were just youngsters. He teased her. She reacted. But she had to admit it worked both ways.
As they’d gotten older, the challenge had become more like a joke, but not this time. She was seventeen Rings old, but he always knew how to get under her skin. There was no other Duende on the entire planet of Eldunom who could irritate her so easily. So now here she was tromping through the forest without any purpose or protection even though she was quite old enough to know better.
Aria paused to wipe a sweaty lock of azure hair from her cheek, turning to look over her shoulder as she did. The Old One no longer loomed above the undergrowth. She’d proven her point. It was time to go home. All she had to do was follow her back trail and she would be at the base of the great tree in no time. Only there was no back trail to follow. The path she’d pushed aside in the dense vegetation had sprung back to its original place, leaving no sign that she had passed. Her light wavered.
Scanning the ferns and grasses nearby for any bruising or breakage, she waded into the greenery and leaned close to inspect the individual blades. Off to her right, she heard voices. They were coming closer.
Aria crouched low to the ground.
“I tell you I smell one of those Duendes. It’s close.”
A second voice, higher in pitch but with more authority answered, “You’re imagining things. If there were one Duende, there’d be at least a hundred, and we’d both smell’em. They always travel in swarms like bugs.”
In spite of her mounting panic, that gave her an idea. She thought about dragonflies and saw herself soaring into the sky unnoticed. But before she could Shift one of the Byrumes took a step closer. She flashed blue with terror.
“There! Did you see that?” the first one shouted. “I told you there was a Duende here!”
Then she was running. It didn’t matter in which direction, as long as she kept moving. Aria sped through the forest. She was alone, without a weapon, and if they caught her, there was no hope of rescue. She didn’t see the bainberry bush until it was too late.
The thorns tore at her hair, skin and clothes. The brush snapped as they lumbered toward her. She jerked her leg free and heard the distinct rip of fabric as her trouser leg split. Then she was running again. Stalks of asucarr and whips of firenettle slapped her face, but her mind was filled with stories her twin cousins, Fyn and Gynn, had told her about Byrumes.
They’re fifty lengths tall with long scraggly hair that’s so dirty, it’s green with mold and slime, Gynn’s musical, lilting voice tittered in her brain.
They have six rows of razor sharp teeth and hooked noses so they can smell us better in the underbrush, Fyn laughed. Byrumes use the oil off their skin for cooking their food, and if they catch you, you’re sure to be on the menu.
Aria used to think they were making up the stories just to see if they could scare her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a shiny pink face crowned with green slimy hair peering into the bushes less than twenty lengths from her. She huddled beneath a leaf and tried to make the light on her skin as dim as possible. Panic fluttered at the back of her throat, tickling like a spider’s web as she tried to slow her breathing. The Byrume lumbered away, snuffling at the air like a beast.
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