Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 103
July 17, 2023
Arcana: Audio Book Omnibus
All links on the AUDIO BOOKS page 💖
July 16, 2023
Chapter 10: My Wishing Well
BOOK OF SAGES
A path is a way especially designed fora particular use … it is also a course of conduct.
Whenin doubt, act. Action frequently leads to decision.
Bewarethe honeyed tongue of rulers too long in power. Listen to the words behindwords and choose then your own path. Beware, however, of sedition, hold your tongue.
Fortitudeis the most terrible of all virtues.
Tellthe truth, traveller, or you create issues hard to overcome later.
Wordsof power should never be underestimated.
Whatis fair? Answer that, and you solve the riddle of universes.
News ofarrival, when wished for and hoped for, spreads swiftly and requires no magic.
A youngsoul cannot distinguish between a lesson and an insult.
The mostbeautiful is also the most intangible. Often true beauty resides only inmemory.
Evenin utter darkness is the path present.
Freedom is more a state of mind than a condition ofcircumstances. Of course there are factors that need be in place to ensure theprocess, whether physical or emotional, and yet freedom is of and for the soulfirst before all else. In darkness and confinement a soul can yet experiencefreedom, although few will know ... and few will agree. There is another typeof freedom and it is flight. Free of gravity a soul is also free of cares.
Even afterall has changed, time has a way of bringing forth the familiar. One day youlook around you and remark, “Nothing has changed.”
Trust yourmind to reveal the truth. See it, feel it.
Every desertis special, for in its lifelessness it contains the secrets to life.
Thewise tell us home is where one’s heart is. This, I believe, is to still thelonging when one is in an unfamiliar port. Home is home, is it not? The stone,the earth, the sky above, the rustling tree of our first steps, of growing up... of leaving. If one is blessed, one may return ... if only for a moment.
Thesurprise of fresh surroundings engenders insight.
Everyplan feels like the best strategy, but every plan has an alternative and eachcan twist out of control. The best-laid plans refer to those sketched in brief,ever allowing for the unforeseen.
Do not attempt to inhabit another’sskin.
When a team functions in tandem, it isan effective tool.
Nothing exists in a vacuum. What thisstatement means has little to do with the likelihood of life in an airlessspace. It means all is connected, that function results from mutual reliance.
One cannot wander old paths withoutfinding them altered.
Subterfuge, whether a small lie or alarge manipulation, eventually turns back on the wielder.
What is true justice? Ifsentience is subjective, how does one measure true justice?
Every journey is different.Choose wisely before you embark.
Profess a willingness tochange … and discover it is not as easy as belief engenders.
Thought is matter. A void,therefore, cannot ever be empty.
Magic in themost unlikely places has the power to astonish.
We are made foropposites. We are part of the multiverse, after all, and it cannot functionwithout action and reaction.
Listen to theold and wise. They have experience youth cannot fathom.
The bestadvice anyone is able to share, when advice is sincere and may be regarded asless than criticism, is to be yourself always. On the other hand, to follow it,you have to know yourself.
Memory issubjective, personal, misleading, encompassing, and is the stuff of life. Weare because we think, yes, but we are also the result of the years, events andexperiences residing in memory. Without it we are born anew, and it is hard tostart building a personality again … can one ever be the same?
Friendshipis first in the call to duty. Aiding a friend is aiding yourself.
Catharsisis an intangible gift, and yet is a gift, a healing of the soul.
Same sex partners areas ancient as time. Many frown upon this and others are not affected. The truthis no one has the right to judge and there is no wrong where love is supreme.And now the codicil, reader. High rank sorcery is dangerous to wielder andbystander, and should thus ever be contained. But who are we to judge? Stepforward, however, when two powers seek to meld, whatever the ideal or purpose,for then the danger is manifold. Unfortunately, for manipulators of the realmsof sorcery, this means keeping same sex partners apart.
The past iswith us always. We are the product of experience.
Oblivion takes manyforms, although one can say only a minority attains it consciously. Sleep is aform of oblivion, but is regarded as imperfect, for the unconscious is moreactive during that period. When drugs are used, the user claims oblivion, andyet this cannot be. Too much changes within for that to be true. Death is notoblivion, for new journeys begin. What, then, are the forms of oblivion?
Coma can mimicoblivion, but this is rare. Degeneration of brain tissue heralds oblivion, aphysical enforcing. Forgetting is oblivion.
Not knowingsomething is oblivion. Unawareness of truth is also regarded as oblivion.
Freedom must be paidfor, whether by blood or terrible understanding. Freedom, true freedom, cannotbe borne by weaklings.
How do you grapplewith slippery nuances and then hold onto a facet long enough to affect thechange required to alter a situation or perception? Faith, reader, andself-belief.
Delirium isn’toblivion, but it can feel that way to the healthy mind.
To forget is sometimes the easieroption. This is akin to stating ‘ignorance is bliss’.
Forgetting is also difficult toovercome. A state not only physical, but emotional, and it is emotion thatcreates the greatest obstacle.
A dual nature is of no use when evil isparamount. Duality, then, sickens the vessel.
Everything isrelative, given sufficient distance, whether of actual miles or the march oftime. Hark to that, friend, because something hurtful this day may becomesomething else along your road.
Listen with ears and heart and thentake the time to dissect the new information. Do this whether confronted by afamily secret, a friend’s confidence, a stranger’s unwitting slip. Do thisespecially thoroughly when you are surrounded by your enemies. All has meaning;your task is to find the straight in the twist. Only then might you act in amanner to solve an issue.
If you would be counted, by others, byhistory, by yourself, place your mark where it is ever visible.
Abandonment teaches hardlessons.
Connections between us areimperative for sentience to function. Not all connections are benign, however.
Heat is able to arise froma mere thought. The chill of fear comes from a heart beating out of rhythm.
Memories are never what youexpect when you examine them dispassionately.
Grief creates currents hardto swim from.
Love is a choice, as choice is part of love.
A simple touch is able to alter time.
Turn your back on the past if you wish for a joyful future.
Ignorance is bliss, some preach, and prefer a life of stasisto maintain such a state of ‘bliss’.
Knowledge is bliss also, the informed reveal, and seek to knowever more, thereby discovering chaos.
As in all, balance is key.
Tread lightly, seeker.
Wake up, lazybones.
No one needs more gods. Youare, each of you, a god.
Love is a precious gift.
Thought is matter. A void,therefore, cannot ever be empty.
New paths are determined by new choices.
Rocks tend to keep secrets.
Turn the tables on others at your peril.
The winds of change are not always benevolent, but theyshould be welcomed, no matter the state, for it is in change that we discover renewaland purpose.
When you read your future, know that there will be bothgreat moments … and heartache.
Available in print only: My Wishing Well
Chapter 10: Song of the Spaces
Technically, FLATLAND is the 10th story/insert in Song of the Spaces, but as it's comprised of a number of parts it's too long to offer the whole here. Here, therefore, is the first part:
FLATLAND
1
Day One: Discovery
2000 - 1800 years ago
A MATTER OF hours hadelapsed between the horrifying destruction of Torrke and therefore theirphysical selves, and new wholeness, between the blankness of memory loss andtotal recall.
Who would havethought the two of them, Enchanter and Darak Or, arch enemies, would rely oneach other, a temporary symbiosis. No black and white now, merely shades ofgrey.
InitiallyMargus whined, starting a list of complaints the moment they set foot to theroad that would lead them to the nearest town, and Torrullin let him ramble on,for once finding comfort in the Darak Or’s voice, using the monologues tohimself discover equilibrium.
The town, whenthey came upon it late afternoon, was pretty. It nestled comfortably into avalley showing the promise of coming spring glory.
They enteredmindful of the warnings they had earlier, but there was no sign of the law,although neither knew what form the law took.
It was avillage really, akin to others in other realms. A postal service, a butchery, ageneral dealer, the mainstays of most villages, and neat houses on either sideof one road, with larger residences on the hillsides. There were a variety oflarge trees, some blossoming, others evergreen, and others sporting theirwinter guises. Quiet reigned.
A woman enteredthe post office clutching envelopes, and both butchery and dealer had a fewpatrons. Other than three old men strolling further along, there was no bustle.Birds twittered in song, one enterprising fellow calling boisterously from thecentre of the road.
The two strangersfor a brief instance believed themselves mistaken, and back on Valaris.
That changedwhen the woman left the post office, empty-handed, and caught sight of them.
“Brigands!” Herhysterical cry echoed through the settlement.
They expectedto be swamped by crowds or law enforcers, but every figure vanished from view,including the distraught woman, retreating into the postal building. Businesseswere boarded up from the inside in a blink, so swiftly done it had to bepractised.
Obviously thebrigands paid more visits than these folk cared for or deserved.
Margus laughedand Torrullin cuffed him. “Shut up, will you? We will find nobody prepared totalk to us if you scare them with typical marauder behaviour.”
“Did you seethose three old men pumping stick legs? Funny!”
“How old areyou, for god’s sake?” Torrullin hissed, and did not wait for a reply.
He did not seethe dark flush that crept over his companion’s features and would not havecared - Margus’ age was a sore point, for Margus.
Torrullinstrode through the town, ignoring boarded buildings, knowing no help would beforthcoming there, and headed towards the house the three old men stumbledinto. He hoped they would be easier to convince into speech.
“Where are yougoing?” Margus asked, following.
“I aim to trythose three. You will stay outside.” Torrullin halted before a cottage set backfrom the road amid a garden setting. “Keep an eye out for the authorities.”
“I do not haveto listen to you.”
“Margus, wehave no power here. Someone must keep watch.”
He consideredthat. “Fine.” Margus leaned against a trunk and theatrically began to lookleft, then right.
Wondering howlong he could stomach such behaviour, Torrullin left him to it and ambled upthe garden path. He held his arms away from his body, palms upward to signifyhis lack of weapons, and reached the front door unchallenged.
He knocked. “Iam not here to hurt anyone; I am no brigand, my oath on it. I am a stranger andsimply seek directions. Please open the door.”
Long minutespassed, but he waited patiently. He saw the twitch of a curtain from the cornerof his eye, knew he was being scrutinised. Let them see a tired traveller,unarmed, waiting without rancour as if time was of no account.
His patiencepaid off.
A bolt slidback noisily, then another and another, and finally the door was pulled ajar,cautiously. As an old man’s head craned around, Torrullin gave an encouragingsmile. It allayed the man’s fears, for he drew the door wide and called overhis shoulder,
“I think hetells the truth!”
“Huh! You aretoo trusting!” someone yelled back, but two shadowy figures joined the first.
Torrullinsuppressed a grin.
“What do youwant, stranger?” the same yelling voice demanded from the gloomy interior.
“I need to findsomeone and I need directions.”
“Who are youlooking for?” the third member of the trio asked.
This was thepart that could have them clam up on him, but there was no other way. “I do notknow her name, but I hear tell of a witch. I am looking for her.”
The door beganto close, pushed by the two at the back, and before Torrullin could make adetaining gesture, the first old man shoved them back.
“Stop it! Givehim a chance.”
He stepped outof the doorway onto the patio. The door slammed shut behind him as hiscompanions heaved against a counter balance no longer there. Loud cursessounded inside. The old man ignored the fracas.
“Come; thosetwo will give you no hearing now.”
He led the wayto a damp bench under bare trees, and sat. Torrullin lowered next to him, afterchecking if Margus was in place. The old man glanced at the fair man near theroad, shrugged and looked to the stranger at his side. An inquisitive andintelligent blue gaze swept over him and Torrullin was amazed at the degree oftrust, the risk he took, and said so.
“I fear twothings, stranger. One is brigand scum and the other is enforcer filth. I do notknow which is worse, but I do know you are neither and I have nothingagainst witches.”
Torrullinsmiled. “Then I thank you for opening the door.”
The old man bobbedhis head and smiled too. “My pleasure. Now, I take it you are wanting to findMadri. She is the witch in these parts, although that is an enforcer label, forshe has no magic.”
It was notmagic he sought, but information. A witch without power here was once a witchwith power elsewhere; natural instincts did not die in death.
“Follow theroad through town over the footbridge beyond; about a mile further is an oldchestnut - it’s the only one, you can’t miss it. A path branches left into thehills. It’s a distance in, but you will find her cottage at the end of it.”
Torrullin rose.“Thank you.”
“May I ask whyyou seek her?” the old man asked, also rising.
“I prefer notto dump you into further trouble.”
“Pish! As ifanyone would actually listen to me.”
“You have beenof help, friend.”
“Madri is adifficult soul, stranger. She may not speak to you.”
Torrullinchecked on Margus and said, “I … we search for a way out.” He needed to findthe way back to Valaris and had to start the process now, and while he searchedhe would deal with Margus.
The old man wasserious. “I assume you refer not to Bluebell County. You are searching for away off the Plane.”
“Yes.”Torrullin’s heart thumped. “You know of this?”
“Do I know weinhabit the flatlands, that it’s an unnatural state? Yes, but I hail from aworld worse than this, and I choose to remain here. If that means hiding fromenforcer and brigand, so be it.”
“I met otherswho knew nothing of globes and stars.”
“Only those whocome fresh to the Plane know and they quickly realise to speak of it bringsenforcers. We are rare now. Most folk you encounter will be born of this place,and maybe that is not a bad thing, maybe the enforcers will relax their vigilwith time.”
“Is Madri frombeyond?”
“Round landborn.”
“A witch once?”
“That isuncertain, for the enforcers brand folk with names in the call of theirmisguided duty. She won’t know how to exit, stranger, I can tell you now. Shecan tell you what to ask, who to ask it of, and where.”
Ah. “And younever asked?”
“I told you Iprefer it here; that information is something I can do without.”
“And thisMadri, she chooses to remain as well?”
The old mansighed. “It’s the time factor. Madri has been here eight years, but back home…”
“… between sixand eight hundred thousand years. I understand.”
“I see that youdo. Leave now before someone shouts for the authorities. Stay away from them ifyou can help it, know there are informers everywhere, and anything can bring anenforcer down on you.”
Torrullin wasthoughtful. “Tell me, do the enforcers know the way off the Plane?”
The old mangave a grin. “Why else do they capture any who speak of the round lands?Ignorance aids them. If they can eradicate all knowledge of beyond …”
“… they wouldcontrol everything. Tyrants, with a source of wealth beyond the Plane.”
“Thus itseems.”
“Thank you foryour help,” Torrullin said, beginning to move away.
“Stranger,don’t hope too much. A few days at most, then resign yourself to this realm.”
“Never,”Torrullin replied, and the old man shook his head, watching him go.
TORRULLIN LED THE way to Madri’scottage in silence Margus could not break. He tried, but acurt, “I am thinking,” caused him to hold his tongue.
The enforcersknew, Torrullin mused as they walked. Some had to be entrants, not Plane-born.Why keep it close? Was it as simple as a source of wealth to aid tyrants? Why choose tostay when they had the means to leave? A tyrant could be a tyrant anywhere,after all. What were these enforcers hiding or protecting?
Thoughts alongthose lines kept him closed-mouthed as they crossed a picturesque footbridgeover a gurgling stream, its banks a wild display of tiny flowers in everyimaginable hue.
The old manreminded him anew time was of the essence, and that aspect continually intrudedupon his thoughts. This was thefirst day in the invisible realms, this curiously familiar flatland. No greatand startling revelation, but by the time the sun rose on their second daytomorrow, two centuries fled by on Valaris.
The CèlaverPriestess told him of the time warp and it suited his needs. If, by someterrible miscalculation, he let Margus slip through his fingers and Margusmanaged to return to Valaris, time would dim memory of him there and his terrorwould be less startling. Valaris andloved ones would have years of peace, and that was worth any price. Of course,he had no intention of failing, but it meant he would return in their future,and it suited him. They needed the perspective of time, for he was weary of hispedestal.
Yet he battledthe inexorable clock and no doorway loomed on the horizon. And Margus had to bedealt with. He would givethis misadventure ten days and if there was no answer by then, swore to breakevery rule, taboo, restriction and law to break out. Even if it meant a trailof destruction in his wake.
As they turnedin to the little-travelled path indicated by the gnarled chestnut, Torrullinglanced sidelong at his companion. Margus keptpace, a healthy glow on his usually pale face, interestedly studying their newsurroundings. While the natural world was not strange to either of them, it wasthe first time Margus had looked … and seen. Margus was given the gift ofrespite. As he believed himself under no immediate threat, he was notconstantly on alert. Margus was happy, in a sense.
It wasdifficult to hate an innocent-looking man and it would be harder to kill him ina defenceless state, if only because of his sense of fair play, but Margusneeded to die here.
I know you,Darak Or; I know what you are capable of behind that angelic mask. You killedmy son and you are to pay for that.
Thank the godsthe man had stopped whining.
“What darkthought plagues you, Enchanter?”
Torrullinsmiled. “Guess.”
Margus laughed.“Not unless I get to you first.”
Torrullinmerely quirked his eyebrows and looked ahead.
Margus wouldnot get physical. They were evenly matched, as they discovered in a room inGalilan’s hospital, and thus a brawl would be long fought and patently useless.Margus might sink to underhanded means, like poison, or ratting him out to theenforcers, but Margus had to know that would only slow his enemy, not kill him.It would not happen yet, for Margus needed the Enchanter to find the way out;with his power absent, his self-confidence had taken a severe blow as well. This mutualreliance would hold for now.
“Where didVannis go, do you think?” Margus asked.
“I do not wishto discuss Vannis with you.”
Margus snortedand continued walking.
This morning,Valaris realm, Vannis died with them in the destruction of Torrke. Vannisallowed his mortal choices to determine his afterworld realm. Gods, he hopedVannis found the right place and the one person he wanted to be with on theother side - his beloved Raken. Anything else was too terrible to contemplate.Vannis, the man he revered and loved most in the entire universe. Vannis,eternally moved on.
He had to finda way to deal with that loss also.
The cottagecame into view; a haphazard wooden affair without cohesion, as if extended asneed arose. A huge waterfall saved it from utter ugliness, a broad expanse offoaming white falling into a deep pool behind the cottage, framing thewhite-washed house in frothy lace. The falls were a distance away, for theroaring tumble was muted, melodic and pleasant. Ferns grew in profusion aboutthe cottage, thriving in the damp, misty enclave between hills and forest.
A woman waitedfor them. Large, ugly as sin, as the old saying went, with virtually no hair,her eyes and mouth lost in the jowls that was her face. She wore a tight reddress emphasizing every wobbling roll. Small dark eyes studied them patiently,resignedly, well acquainted with the first impression she made.
Margus, to hiscredit, remained expressionless and Torrullin approached with a smile. “Madri?”he asked, coming to a halt a few feet away.
“Yes,” shereturned, her gaze flicking from one to the other. “What do you want here?”
Torrullincleared his throat. A difficult soul. “We are hoping you may be of …”
“You arestrangers to the Plane? And you seek the way off? Did someone tell you I couldhelp you?”
“Yes.”
She wheezed alaugh. “Why, why, why? So dangerous and foolhardy! Why want to get off when youhave just arrived, why, when you shouldn’t yet know enough to want to escape?Hmm, what secret lies here before me? Never mind, I’ll tell you what I know,but I warn you it isn’t much.”
She turnedponderously, like a softened dragon, and made her way to the front door of her cottage.As she reached it, she swung back. “Someonemust’ve told you I don’t like to help people; I have never done so since theenforcers bound me to this place. Do you know why I help you?” Her bright gazewent from one to the other. “You two arethe first, ever, not to flinch at the sight of this rotting body.”
July 15, 2023
Unicorn Amulet
At one stage Valaris is invaded by draithen, aka Mor Feru, an influx of creatures that have had dark souls forced into soulless vessels, and the destruction is very real, as is the death count. Turns out, after Marcus Campian finds a dead draithen in his bedroom - an anomaly he can't explain at the time - that they are mortally afraid of the purity a unicorn embodies. Marcus finds the creature clutching a unicorn figurine and on impulse pockets it, and that changes everything. Yes, hastily, amulets are created …
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