Monthly Archives: June 2011

An Old Friend

Thursday, June 30th, 2011

The dry earth below me darkened as beads of sweat rained down from my overheated face. My skin tight and leathery from the intensity of the sun, was almost painful to move. My right hand had begun to tire and throb. Resting the sharp stone on my leg, I slowly closed and opened my bruised and bloodied fist, attempting to relax the stiff muscles. It wasn’t working.

This time, I grasped the stone with my left hand, and hunched over, focusing all of my attention on the task, blocking out the pain that flowed through my hand and up my arm, and if I was honest, into my heart. Slowly and diligently, I continued to chip away at the long bamboo stalk. I felt the rigid flesh around my parched lips move and a smile take form. Seeing the sharp tip finished made me happy. My work was nearly done.

Standing tall, I held the spear out in front of me, examining it.  Resting the blunt end down onto the ground placed the spear tip at nearly eye-level. Twisting it from left to right, I inspected the weapon, looking for any sign of weakness or imperfection. Had I more materials on hand, the tool could have been that much better, but all in all I remained pleased with its completion.

Taking a seat once again on the large log just outside of camp, I  looked upward, examining the location of the sun.…
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Swamp Foot

Wednesday, June 29th, 2011

“We’ve been walking for three days, and my feet are sore.”

“It was your idea to start walking, Náhte.”

“Walking’s hard!”

“Yes well it was either this or build another raft, and you chose to start.”

“But at least I was good at hunting.”

“Those were berries. They didn’t run.”

“My approach was stealthy, right?”

“Compared to say, the march of an army, yes.”

“Oh good.” Náhte paused and looked around. “Umm, Butan? Where are we?”

“We’re east from the river. Well, south-east, since that’s the direction Át?san is in.”

“I’m asking because my feet are getting wet.”

“That’s because you’re standing in a stream.”

“So this isn’t the swamp?”

“It’s a large field of scrubgrass.”

“It could be a swampy field.”

“It could also be a palace full of people that serve us. But it isn’t. It’s a field of scrubgrass.”

“Why isn’t it a palace full of people if it could be?”

“Because we’re poor, and the palace doesn’t exist. Now be quiet.”

Náhte sulked.

A while later, he spoke. “Butan, I found something!”

“Oh no, what is it this time?”

“It’s a swamp!”

“You mean a small stream, right?”

“No, a swamp, look!”

Butan looked.

“Well done Náhte, you found us the swamp.”

“Butan, it smells.”

“It’s a swamp.”

“Well, I’m still going to Át?san.”

Náhte strode to the edge of the swamp and promptly sank.


…
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Steel is Heavy

Monday, June 27th, 2011

Crellen watched the men leave from a shop window across the street. Their smug expressions and the two bulky individuals guarding the door didn’t bode well. He’d obviously arrived too late to warn the ship’s captain. Now he had to work out the new schedule. It was unlikely those two bruisers would hold their positions for three weeks.

He left the shop, intending to head for the Duke’s Arms and check on the ship’s other passenger, but his steps took him across the street instead, towards Richane’s front door.

“Good day to you.” He smiled at the guards as he raised his hand to knock. He wasn’t surprised when one of them grabbed his arm, rather harder than necessary, and threw it back at him.

“They’re busy,” he growled.

“Well, I can understand that, preparing for a trip and all. But I need to discuss my trip with them. I need to confirm the timetable.”

The man seized Crellen’s shirt and tried to lift him off the ground. Crellen carefully kept his features blank as the man’s arm shook with his weight. This wouldn’t be the first time some fool had mistaken him for a weakling based on his slim build. Muscle was heavy. His would-be aggressor wasn’t happy about it, but didn’t release him.

“There’s no trip on this ship. They’re not taking passengers.”…
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Desperation

Friday, June 24th, 2011

This is an excerpt from the third novel, Laeccan Waters. Currently, the main characters and their Hálsiend allies are trying to extract themselves from a raid that went badly wrong.

Ceinder fought desperately to defend those Hálsiends around her, but their numbers were getting thinner and thinner each time she looked. Even with her assistance on their strikes, there were so many of the enemy that exhaustion was killing many of her allies, as they became slow, and too tired to block the next blow. Indeed, she was reaching that same level herself, and if she did not collapse right then, she would do soon. Still, she had managed to hold the line, preventing the Þracian troops from overwhelming them here.

On the other flank of the battle, Atyniadol and the two warriors were all but fallen, their armour covered in nicks and cuts, and with red seeping out from several places on Atyniadol, for her thinner armour could not turn blades aside the way the mountain plate of Tri-Hauwcerton could. Atyniadol knew that soon she would need to step back from the battle to staunch her wounds, but there was never a break, never a moment when she could disengage and take that time, for they were so closely pressed by the enemy Áðexe that losing the rhythm of attack and block would see her skewered on the end of a thrust.…
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The Hunter’s Prey Part 9

Friday, June 24th, 2011

As the Cleansing drew near, people from all over Kaphiri flooded into Omari, swelling the city until it seemed about to burst at the seams. Dendera was far busier than she would have hoped, not only preparing for the Cleansing, but also accepting offerings and bestowing blessings for the visiting horde. There was never a moment to even ponder the problem of the Erabu snakes. The peasants, who brought a dove or a rat, which would end in the serpent pit, stank of dust and sweat. It was all Dendera could do not to wrinkle her nose as she took the small cages and handed them off to a waiting steward. And even worse, she had to mark the supplicants with the sign of Assim, dipping a finger in her little bowl of oil and tracing the form of a serpent on their grimy inner wrists. She was not used to dealing with these backward country folk.

The day before the Cleansing was to take place, the High Priest of Assim rode into the temple courtyard, attendants scurrying to secure the mounts of his overflowing retinue. Typically, the High Priest presided over the Great Temple of Assim, located not in a city, but in the very center of Kaphiri, where all might worship. Only duties of the utmost sanctity brought him to Omari. Dendera watched from the shadows of an overlooking gallery as the High Priest swung off his horse, negligently tossing his reigns, expecting someone to catch them.…
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