Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 340
June 24, 2016
Update for The King's Challenge (Final?)
As we approach the end of this 366 day challenge, here are a few thoughts :)
With only 29 episodes left, I begin to wonder if all the loose ends will be neatly tied up before THE END appears. We return at this point to Arc for the deciding battle between Ilfin and Glonu, and a battle is easy enough ... but will Enris be declared heir? Can Iniri reach out to her ancient lover in time? Is there opportunity for Enris to deal with Lorn Makar? What is it about Mirlin that is yet to be uncovered? Will Kay and Siri form a lasting bond? Should the final action take place on the plateau, the place where it all began?
So many questions! Maybe the final version of this book will have a few added chapters to answer them! That, then, may become the final update; I may have to inform you there is a bit more on offer after this challenge ends. There will be a Prologue and Epilogue also, so look out for those!
I invite you now, if you have followed from beginning to (almost) end, to share any questions you would like answered before I do type THE END. You may remind me of something I have overlooked and I will mention your contribution in the collated and published version :)
A final word before I vanish to write today's episode; know that every read and share is hugely appreciated and I hope from the bottom of my heart you will grab a copy of the finished book and then tell EVERYONE!
xxx
With only 29 episodes left, I begin to wonder if all the loose ends will be neatly tied up before THE END appears. We return at this point to Arc for the deciding battle between Ilfin and Glonu, and a battle is easy enough ... but will Enris be declared heir? Can Iniri reach out to her ancient lover in time? Is there opportunity for Enris to deal with Lorn Makar? What is it about Mirlin that is yet to be uncovered? Will Kay and Siri form a lasting bond? Should the final action take place on the plateau, the place where it all began?
So many questions! Maybe the final version of this book will have a few added chapters to answer them! That, then, may become the final update; I may have to inform you there is a bit more on offer after this challenge ends. There will be a Prologue and Epilogue also, so look out for those!
I invite you now, if you have followed from beginning to (almost) end, to share any questions you would like answered before I do type THE END. You may remind me of something I have overlooked and I will mention your contribution in the collated and published version :)
A final word before I vanish to write today's episode; know that every read and share is hugely appreciated and I hope from the bottom of my heart you will grab a copy of the finished book and then tell EVERYONE!
xxx
June 23, 2016
The King's Challenge #337
TKC 337
The sky over Arc is explosive, literally. Not only do vessels attack and explode, but the pressure over the area is in itself an incendiary device. The latter is at the behest of the Ilfin captains; every captain in the army is capable of creating flammable air, while each lieutenant attached to his command is able to shield their craft against the potent annihilation it engenders. It does not always work, but Ilfin may negotiate the poison easier than Glonu are able to. The Glonu have no defence other than their own shields, which are technological and therefore less effective.
As we approach the ruined Spire, my satisfaction knows no bounds. Glonu flyer after Glonu flyer simply erupts into flame, even when far from battle. The way is swiftly cleared for us, but it is also a truth that we have no talented captain or lieutenant aboard; we are vulnerable to the explosive air.
The pilot glances at me, no doubt wondering whether to enter the danger zone. I do not look at him or offer words. We have no choice but to go on. After a moment, the man shrugs and concentrates on his flying.
Enris leans over my shoulder. “The orb will protect us, pilot.”
Clearly he read the man’s doubt and now I do glance at our pilot, to see his shoulders relax somewhat. “What do we hope to find at the Spire?” I ask.
Enris leans into the back of my seat to keep his footing. Staring into the smoke and flame-filled sky, he responds with “We need to find the receptacle Glonu use to capture Ilfin talents. It probably survived the collapse of the tower.”
“Iniri destroyed it.”
“She left part of the orb to do so, but cannot confirm if it was actually demolished or merely damaged.”
I glance up at the man, noting how dirty his hair is, the shadow of a beard, streaks of mud and blood on his face. No one has had opportunity recently to bathe. “Enris, how does the receptacle change anything for us?”
For long moments he is silent, before he says in an undertone, “In the battle three thousand years ago a certain talent was captured when we lost to the Glonu. I want that talent restored.”
The sky over Arc is explosive, literally. Not only do vessels attack and explode, but the pressure over the area is in itself an incendiary device. The latter is at the behest of the Ilfin captains; every captain in the army is capable of creating flammable air, while each lieutenant attached to his command is able to shield their craft against the potent annihilation it engenders. It does not always work, but Ilfin may negotiate the poison easier than Glonu are able to. The Glonu have no defence other than their own shields, which are technological and therefore less effective.
As we approach the ruined Spire, my satisfaction knows no bounds. Glonu flyer after Glonu flyer simply erupts into flame, even when far from battle. The way is swiftly cleared for us, but it is also a truth that we have no talented captain or lieutenant aboard; we are vulnerable to the explosive air.
The pilot glances at me, no doubt wondering whether to enter the danger zone. I do not look at him or offer words. We have no choice but to go on. After a moment, the man shrugs and concentrates on his flying.
Enris leans over my shoulder. “The orb will protect us, pilot.”
Clearly he read the man’s doubt and now I do glance at our pilot, to see his shoulders relax somewhat. “What do we hope to find at the Spire?” I ask.
Enris leans into the back of my seat to keep his footing. Staring into the smoke and flame-filled sky, he responds with “We need to find the receptacle Glonu use to capture Ilfin talents. It probably survived the collapse of the tower.”
“Iniri destroyed it.”
“She left part of the orb to do so, but cannot confirm if it was actually demolished or merely damaged.”
I glance up at the man, noting how dirty his hair is, the shadow of a beard, streaks of mud and blood on his face. No one has had opportunity recently to bathe. “Enris, how does the receptacle change anything for us?”
For long moments he is silent, before he says in an undertone, “In the battle three thousand years ago a certain talent was captured when we lost to the Glonu. I want that talent restored.”
June 22, 2016
115 000+!
Thank you to everyone for visiting!
xxx
xxx
A Nowhere Unicorn
A fantastical unicorn suited to The Nowhere Sphere :)
Torrullin cursed as he stumbled over roots and branches, but dared not create light to ease his path. It took hours in the cold and dark to situate every trap in a wide perimeter and to draw the shield to encompass all, but eventually it was done, and he could head back.The lure of hot coffee was an all-consuming need.As he approached the gate something new in the environment drew his attention.Until then the forest was filled with the usual night sounds - owls, scuttling creatures, a flap of wings, squeaks - and now everything was silent. That kind of quiet generally occurred when something new was in the region and the creatures waited to see whether it meant danger or something to be safely ignored. This silence went beyond what was there while he tramped around.He could not see, but he could feel.First came the silence, and he stood still.Then came hot breath on his cheek.He did not react, but his heart jerked wildly. He made no move.Lorinin.His heart thumped hard. Gods. “Who are you?”What am I?Fine. A game. What are you?A slight glow appeared over his left shoulder. He turned with exaggerated care. The glow strengthened and took form. This time his heart threatened to burst from its confines.You are surprised.Torrullin placed a hand over his heart. More than words can describe.It was a creature of myth and legend. The purity of goodness. The beauty of tireless strength.A unicorn.White, ethereal and incredibly beautiful. It made no sound as it moved to stand in his field of view, its hooves silvery and seeming to float above the forest floor. A horn of incredible simplicity glowed faintly blue from the centre of its forehead and long lashes swept over pale sad eyes as it studied Torrullin.Many years ago the little flower needed aid.Rose. You created her citadel.I could not feed her. I wish I could have fed her.She survived. Today she is strong.I am glad.Is this your domain? Torrullin asked.
We do not claim domain, Lorinin. We are and we are not.
AmazonSmashwords
Torrullin cursed as he stumbled over roots and branches, but dared not create light to ease his path. It took hours in the cold and dark to situate every trap in a wide perimeter and to draw the shield to encompass all, but eventually it was done, and he could head back.The lure of hot coffee was an all-consuming need.As he approached the gate something new in the environment drew his attention.Until then the forest was filled with the usual night sounds - owls, scuttling creatures, a flap of wings, squeaks - and now everything was silent. That kind of quiet generally occurred when something new was in the region and the creatures waited to see whether it meant danger or something to be safely ignored. This silence went beyond what was there while he tramped around.He could not see, but he could feel.First came the silence, and he stood still.Then came hot breath on his cheek.He did not react, but his heart jerked wildly. He made no move.Lorinin.His heart thumped hard. Gods. “Who are you?”What am I?Fine. A game. What are you?A slight glow appeared over his left shoulder. He turned with exaggerated care. The glow strengthened and took form. This time his heart threatened to burst from its confines.You are surprised.Torrullin placed a hand over his heart. More than words can describe.It was a creature of myth and legend. The purity of goodness. The beauty of tireless strength.A unicorn.White, ethereal and incredibly beautiful. It made no sound as it moved to stand in his field of view, its hooves silvery and seeming to float above the forest floor. A horn of incredible simplicity glowed faintly blue from the centre of its forehead and long lashes swept over pale sad eyes as it studied Torrullin.Many years ago the little flower needed aid.Rose. You created her citadel.I could not feed her. I wish I could have fed her.She survived. Today she is strong.I am glad.Is this your domain? Torrullin asked.
We do not claim domain, Lorinin. We are and we are not.
AmazonSmashwords
The King's Challenge #336
TKC 336
Swiftly we have an escort flying on either side of our shuttle; standard practice when the king is aboard. Unfortunately it paints a massive target on our tiny hull and we are soon dodging missiles, while our escort fights back. One shuttle explodes and Enris swears foully. We are not about to return fire, though; our task is to reach ground no matter what happens in orbit.
The dry plains soon rush towards us. Silver glints reveal the snaking rivers, while the growth near the water is highlighted as green lines. To the north Massin’s great ranges beckon, while the plateau’s height is an earthy smudge to the east. Our pilot goes in fast and low to skim the sands, thereby forcing the enemy to take a wider path. In doing so, they are open to attack and our escort immediately takes advantage. Fireballs accompany our swift passage over desert scrub.
Shuddering assails our shuttle. “We are too low,” the pilot mutters.
“We will survive shudders,” I say. “Stay the course.”
No further words are spoken as the pilot concentrates on trajectory. We skim hardy bushes and giant boulders in a wide swirl as the shuttle heads west towards the mountains surrounding Arc. Skirmishes between Ilfin shuttles and Glonu flyers create a veil of dust and fire between us and those mighty peaks.
The battle for Massin is in full flight.
Horses rear in our path as we approach a mighty herd. Great teeth snap the air as fear overcomes them, and then they are galloping south as one as if demons pursue them. We are the demons indeed; us, and the Glonu. That fleeing herd must be the horses the Messengers released to the plains. I pray they survive.
Three shuttles remain with us and they begin the upward clamber to clear the sky for us. We follow and soon the first peaks pass below to reveal the paradise that is Arc’s great protected bowl.
Arc is no longer paradise.
Arc burns.
Swiftly we have an escort flying on either side of our shuttle; standard practice when the king is aboard. Unfortunately it paints a massive target on our tiny hull and we are soon dodging missiles, while our escort fights back. One shuttle explodes and Enris swears foully. We are not about to return fire, though; our task is to reach ground no matter what happens in orbit.
The dry plains soon rush towards us. Silver glints reveal the snaking rivers, while the growth near the water is highlighted as green lines. To the north Massin’s great ranges beckon, while the plateau’s height is an earthy smudge to the east. Our pilot goes in fast and low to skim the sands, thereby forcing the enemy to take a wider path. In doing so, they are open to attack and our escort immediately takes advantage. Fireballs accompany our swift passage over desert scrub.
Shuddering assails our shuttle. “We are too low,” the pilot mutters.
“We will survive shudders,” I say. “Stay the course.”
No further words are spoken as the pilot concentrates on trajectory. We skim hardy bushes and giant boulders in a wide swirl as the shuttle heads west towards the mountains surrounding Arc. Skirmishes between Ilfin shuttles and Glonu flyers create a veil of dust and fire between us and those mighty peaks.
The battle for Massin is in full flight.
Horses rear in our path as we approach a mighty herd. Great teeth snap the air as fear overcomes them, and then they are galloping south as one as if demons pursue them. We are the demons indeed; us, and the Glonu. That fleeing herd must be the horses the Messengers released to the plains. I pray they survive.
Three shuttles remain with us and they begin the upward clamber to clear the sky for us. We follow and soon the first peaks pass below to reveal the paradise that is Arc’s great protected bowl.
Arc is no longer paradise.
Arc burns.
June 21, 2016
The King's Challenge #334 and #335
Part 11General Coltern
TKC 334 and 335
King Linus boards the shuttle first.
The man is as imposing as I remember; his height is above average and his shoulders are still broad, although illness has somewhat emaciated him – poison, more correctly. I suspect he lacks muscular strength at this point also, for he walks carefully as if needing to be aware of his every step.
His shoulder length hair is as dark as Iniri and Enris’, with the grey of wisdom and years at his temples. Wearing it tied at the nape of his neck, his face is more exposed than I remember in times past. On Makaran a ruler need not concern himself with hair in his face; for Massin, even a ruler requires every iota of eyesight. Care lines have etched into his forehead, as well as grooves from nose to mouth, but otherwise Linus Makar’s age is difficult to determine. I am aware he is ages old, but a Massinian will put his years at around forty while frowning and wondering if he or she is correct. Linus’s blue eyes certainly tell a different tale; in those orbs is his true age read.
I snort to myself as Iniri follows her father in. She glances around until she sees me; why is there so much sadness in her gaze? My concern is for the uncertainty of our relationship; hers appears to be for something more.
“Damin,” she murmurs as she approaches.
“Coltern,” I state, keeping emotion in severe check.
Her eyes squeeze closed and she gives one small nod. Opening her eyes, she says, “How I wish it was still Lyra and Damin for us.”
As I do. But that time is now gone. “Wishful is not reality.”
She blinks, taken aback by my tone. As much as it hurts me to do so, I need her to understand the soldier is now present. I am General Coltern and my loyalty is for her father before all others. I swore that oath a long, long time ago. Yet, I admit, the person that was Damin seems to intrude into my thoughts more often than can be comfortable for this present.
“Later, Iniri,” I add quietly.
Her wry smile tells me she understands my dilemma. “Later,” she echoes, and returns to her father’s side.
Enris meets my gaze from the other side of the shuttle, his filled with sympathy. I look away. Enris is heir and I cannot afford to see him now as a friend first.
“Pilot, prepare to leave,” I say, waiting until all are strapped in, including Commander Gennerin. When Kay takes a seat after having checked that Siri is safely strapped, and Mirlin gives me a nod, I add, “You are cleared, pilot.” As the shuttle moves, I fling into the navigator’s seat and clip in.
Swiftly the industrial hangar vanishes from view and star-filled blackness fills the window. To the right, other shuttles manoeuvre and above us there are the larger transports.
Massin’s moon is visible in the distance, an orb I am suddenly able to land on if that is my wish. Damin never even dreamed of doing so. I snort to myself again, wondering if Damin would have been enough for me in the fullness of Massinian time.
The shuttle banks and Massin itself fills the view.
I am entranced. It is a beautiful world. Oceans and mountains, rivers, lakes and forests, rock and desert, snow and plain. Massin is still unspoilt, still natural. Technology consists of stone edifices and the bow, sword and carriage. Ancient ways Makaran moved away from many ages ago. Saying not a word, I confirm the choice I made in the small room where we found our king.
Damin will never leave Massin and Coltern will never return to Makaran.
TKC 334 and 335
King Linus boards the shuttle first.
The man is as imposing as I remember; his height is above average and his shoulders are still broad, although illness has somewhat emaciated him – poison, more correctly. I suspect he lacks muscular strength at this point also, for he walks carefully as if needing to be aware of his every step.
His shoulder length hair is as dark as Iniri and Enris’, with the grey of wisdom and years at his temples. Wearing it tied at the nape of his neck, his face is more exposed than I remember in times past. On Makaran a ruler need not concern himself with hair in his face; for Massin, even a ruler requires every iota of eyesight. Care lines have etched into his forehead, as well as grooves from nose to mouth, but otherwise Linus Makar’s age is difficult to determine. I am aware he is ages old, but a Massinian will put his years at around forty while frowning and wondering if he or she is correct. Linus’s blue eyes certainly tell a different tale; in those orbs is his true age read.
I snort to myself as Iniri follows her father in. She glances around until she sees me; why is there so much sadness in her gaze? My concern is for the uncertainty of our relationship; hers appears to be for something more.
“Damin,” she murmurs as she approaches.
“Coltern,” I state, keeping emotion in severe check.
Her eyes squeeze closed and she gives one small nod. Opening her eyes, she says, “How I wish it was still Lyra and Damin for us.”
As I do. But that time is now gone. “Wishful is not reality.”
She blinks, taken aback by my tone. As much as it hurts me to do so, I need her to understand the soldier is now present. I am General Coltern and my loyalty is for her father before all others. I swore that oath a long, long time ago. Yet, I admit, the person that was Damin seems to intrude into my thoughts more often than can be comfortable for this present.
“Later, Iniri,” I add quietly.
Her wry smile tells me she understands my dilemma. “Later,” she echoes, and returns to her father’s side.
Enris meets my gaze from the other side of the shuttle, his filled with sympathy. I look away. Enris is heir and I cannot afford to see him now as a friend first.
“Pilot, prepare to leave,” I say, waiting until all are strapped in, including Commander Gennerin. When Kay takes a seat after having checked that Siri is safely strapped, and Mirlin gives me a nod, I add, “You are cleared, pilot.” As the shuttle moves, I fling into the navigator’s seat and clip in.
Swiftly the industrial hangar vanishes from view and star-filled blackness fills the window. To the right, other shuttles manoeuvre and above us there are the larger transports.
Massin’s moon is visible in the distance, an orb I am suddenly able to land on if that is my wish. Damin never even dreamed of doing so. I snort to myself again, wondering if Damin would have been enough for me in the fullness of Massinian time.
The shuttle banks and Massin itself fills the view.
I am entranced. It is a beautiful world. Oceans and mountains, rivers, lakes and forests, rock and desert, snow and plain. Massin is still unspoilt, still natural. Technology consists of stone edifices and the bow, sword and carriage. Ancient ways Makaran moved away from many ages ago. Saying not a word, I confirm the choice I made in the small room where we found our king.
Damin will never leave Massin and Coltern will never return to Makaran.
