Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 344
May 31, 2016
The King's Challenge #314
PART 10LINUS MAKAR
TKC 314
I struggle to sit. By the moment I seem to be weaker. Is it being in orbit that leeches from me my energy or has the lengthy journey through space finally caught up?
Feeling less than capable is hard to accept. Always I have been at the forefront of both action and thought. I seized the day, and now I am barely able to sit and that after a rather long ‘nap’.
I begin to suspect something else is at work here.
“Majesty, you need more rest.”
By the stars! Moravin’s voice irritates me. The man may be Brigadier-General of the Ilfin army, with the voice to match, but that tenor truly drives me insane. I feel as if the man speaks in a whisper through a megaphone and ends up sounding like a bloody foghorn. It rattles my psyche. I wish he will go away.
“A man can only sleep so much,” I snap at him. “Get me some coffee, will you?”
I do not see him, but I hear his footsteps recede, and finally I am alone. Moravin takes his duties a bit too seriously, in my opinion; ever he is around. I believe I will ask that a common soldier assume the duty of guardian in this sparse hideaway. A soldier will not dare to address his king unless invited to do so.
After a struggle and some succinct words, I lean back against the pillows, more or less in a seated position. Where is this cure Lorn keeps telling me is on the way? I begin to think my brother is lying. Perhaps there is no cure.
How fares the confrontation on the planet below? No one tells me anything, afraid bad news will set me back. Damn it, I am physically debilitated, not mentally unstable.
It is time to take up the reins again; to here and no further. I am Linus Makar and I do seize the day.
TKC 314
I struggle to sit. By the moment I seem to be weaker. Is it being in orbit that leeches from me my energy or has the lengthy journey through space finally caught up?
Feeling less than capable is hard to accept. Always I have been at the forefront of both action and thought. I seized the day, and now I am barely able to sit and that after a rather long ‘nap’.
I begin to suspect something else is at work here.
“Majesty, you need more rest.”
By the stars! Moravin’s voice irritates me. The man may be Brigadier-General of the Ilfin army, with the voice to match, but that tenor truly drives me insane. I feel as if the man speaks in a whisper through a megaphone and ends up sounding like a bloody foghorn. It rattles my psyche. I wish he will go away.
“A man can only sleep so much,” I snap at him. “Get me some coffee, will you?”
I do not see him, but I hear his footsteps recede, and finally I am alone. Moravin takes his duties a bit too seriously, in my opinion; ever he is around. I believe I will ask that a common soldier assume the duty of guardian in this sparse hideaway. A soldier will not dare to address his king unless invited to do so.
After a struggle and some succinct words, I lean back against the pillows, more or less in a seated position. Where is this cure Lorn keeps telling me is on the way? I begin to think my brother is lying. Perhaps there is no cure.
How fares the confrontation on the planet below? No one tells me anything, afraid bad news will set me back. Damn it, I am physically debilitated, not mentally unstable.
It is time to take up the reins again; to here and no further. I am Linus Makar and I do seize the day.
Infinity's photo shoot!
Recently had a few photos taken (because my camera cannot deliver anything like this!) and here are some of the results :)
The Infinity Mantle
The Infinity Mantle
May 30, 2016
The King's Challenge #310 to #313
TKC 310 - 313
Enris grips Lorn by the throat. “Your son will not long sit on any seat, uncle. I swear it.”
In that moment I realise Lorn does love his son. It is not simply ambition that has caused him to reach for glory on his son’s behalf, for he deflates as if someone stuck a needle into him.
“He will talk now,” I say. “Enris, release him.”
My brother shoves Lorn against the padding, and lets him go. “If you value the life of …”
“Brandt means everything to me,” Lorn spits. “If you promise to leave him alone, I will talk.”
“I cannot make that promise,” Enris responds. “Our cousin has designs on the throne of Makaran and that makes him a traitor.”
Swallowing repeatedly to clear his throat for air, Lorn shakes his head. He attempts to lift a hand to the affected area, but the burn there is too much agony and thus he goes on swallowing.
“Wait,” he gargles, and swallows a final time. Then, gazing directly at Enris, he says, “Brandt knows nothing, I swear that on my life. Your cousin merely believes that you are lost either to time or death and therefore assumes he will be declared the heir in your stead. I have made it clear that if anything happens to our king, I will not rule. Brandt is innocent, although I admit he is ambitious. He will not easily step aside, but he does not deserve to die.”
Enris purses his lips and sucks loudly at his teeth thereafter. “Fine, he will have the opportunity to speak for himself. Now talk.”
“What do you want to know?”
Leffandir falls to her knees beside the man, her lips pulled back in a snarl. “Did you kill my daughter?”
Lorn swivels his eyes to her. “She was an abomination. Yes, I killed her.”
“Damin!” I screech as both Leffandir and Enris launch at the man, both beyond rage.
Damin instantly abandons his post at the torn exit and wades in to bodily haul Enris away. Gennerin, bless him, takes hold of Leffandir and pulls her off. She fights him, but he manoeuvres her to the other side of the small space and there he pushes her into the wall and holds her still.
“Murderer!” Leffandir spits.
“Coming from you, Empress, the accusation holds no weight,” Lorn states. “No one in this room is as guilty as you are. Perhaps it was your fate to lose someone you loved, given how many loved ones you caused to mourn over time.”
Leffandir slides down the wall and her head lowers into a cradle of arms. Sobs shake her entire body as she weeps. It seems Lorn hit a nerve and she cannot deny his truth. I want to feel sorry for her, but she has killed many; perhaps it is her fate. My attention moves to Enris; he is unmoving and Damin has released him.
Abruptly he swings and punches the padding, doing so over and over in absolute silence. My heart breaks for my brother.
“You came to me, remember?” Lorn murmurs, watching him.
Enris straightens and is unmoving. He stares at Leffandir huddled into herself, shaking with the force of her grief. Eventually he nods, a slow and deliberate gesture. “Yes, I came to you.”
Leffandir’s head jerks up. Tears roll over her cheeks.
Enris swings to Lorn. “I came to you, for I did not know what to do next. The woman I loved was revealed as Glonu and that meant my neck in a guillotine if anyone heard of it. How did I know? Our daughter was not completely flesh; she was part ethereal. Half a light being. Part Glonu. That too would have seen me killed, and yet I was prepared to run with the woman I loved and our daughter. I needed help and came to you.” He paced away to stand before Leffandir, looking down. “Two days later our daughter was dead. I thought she died because her dual state weakened her.”
Blinking, Leffandir stared up. She uttered not a word.
Enris closed his eyes. “Given the terrible words we said to each other when I realised you were Glonu and given the death of our child, when you disappeared I believed, after a time, it was better for both of us. I believed grief and anger caused you to flee.”
“Did you look for me?” Leffandir asked, her tone without emotion.
“For many months.”
Lowering her head, she sighed.
“And my search uncovered the salient fact that you were the bloody Empress of the Glonu Empire,” Enris snarled. “By the stars, Leffandir, what was I supposed to think then?”
“What every Ilfin automatically thinks,” she muttered from her lowered position. “No Glonu can be trusted, not ever. Go away, Enris. There is nothing left. My one consolation in all this is that now I know you had no hand in Didra’s death.”
Lorn snorts. “You set your sights on the Makaran throne, Empress. Where is the trust in those conditions?”
“Let it go,” I snap. “Lorn, how long has our father left? What did you poison him with?”
Silence filled with heavy breathing descends. Leffandir seeks to control herself and breathes fast, while Enris is so deliberate in his inhales and exhales that I understand he attempts to control his fury … no, he attempts to control the Warrior within. I glance at Damin, to see him watching Enris carefully. Damin is aware that Enris can explode into the kind of action that has no remorse.
“Your father is tough,” Lorn mutters. “Another man would have succumbed by now, but he holds out. I had hoped his ‘illness’ would fell him, but we are at the point where we may need to help him along.”
Enris is a blur of movement … and so is Damin. Damin is faster, for he is not bowed in this by emotion, and he decks Enris solidly in the jaw. My brother goes down hard and does not move. Damin laid him out cold.
“Stubborn,” Damin mutters, standing over the prone form shaking his hand. “Bloody hard jaw, too.”
“Take me to my father,” I say to Lorn.
He glares at me. “I cannot walk, remember?”
I gather myself to stand. Then I inhale the courage needed to go to the man. The sight of his burnt hands makes my stomach churn. “I will heal your feet and, if you take me to my father and tell me what you used to slowly poison him, I will heal your hands also.” Kneeling, I lay my fingers on his boots. “You will lose your powers in the healing, but you will be alive and whole.”
Those two blue eyes stare at me. “Girl, I do not want to live without my powers. Besides, your father will kill me if he is renewed. I have no life left either way.”
“Then do it for Brandt,” I urge him. “I give you my word, uncle, that I will speak to Brandt’s innocence. I will ensure he lives a long and full life.”
Lorn Makar stares into my soul. That is what it feels like, so intense is his scrutiny. “You got it all, didn’t you? Every talent? Iniri, what a sorcerer you will make, far more than what I am capable of, if only you will accept who you are. I suggest you step up, for that is the only way to discover what kills your father. I will take you to him and then it is up to you.”
I shiver. He means it. Lorn Makar is a dead man and his final act is to create as much chaos as he is able to. Fine. I will do what I must, no matter what it costs me.
Enris grips Lorn by the throat. “Your son will not long sit on any seat, uncle. I swear it.”
In that moment I realise Lorn does love his son. It is not simply ambition that has caused him to reach for glory on his son’s behalf, for he deflates as if someone stuck a needle into him.
“He will talk now,” I say. “Enris, release him.”
My brother shoves Lorn against the padding, and lets him go. “If you value the life of …”
“Brandt means everything to me,” Lorn spits. “If you promise to leave him alone, I will talk.”
“I cannot make that promise,” Enris responds. “Our cousin has designs on the throne of Makaran and that makes him a traitor.”
Swallowing repeatedly to clear his throat for air, Lorn shakes his head. He attempts to lift a hand to the affected area, but the burn there is too much agony and thus he goes on swallowing.
“Wait,” he gargles, and swallows a final time. Then, gazing directly at Enris, he says, “Brandt knows nothing, I swear that on my life. Your cousin merely believes that you are lost either to time or death and therefore assumes he will be declared the heir in your stead. I have made it clear that if anything happens to our king, I will not rule. Brandt is innocent, although I admit he is ambitious. He will not easily step aside, but he does not deserve to die.”
Enris purses his lips and sucks loudly at his teeth thereafter. “Fine, he will have the opportunity to speak for himself. Now talk.”
“What do you want to know?”
Leffandir falls to her knees beside the man, her lips pulled back in a snarl. “Did you kill my daughter?”
Lorn swivels his eyes to her. “She was an abomination. Yes, I killed her.”
“Damin!” I screech as both Leffandir and Enris launch at the man, both beyond rage.
Damin instantly abandons his post at the torn exit and wades in to bodily haul Enris away. Gennerin, bless him, takes hold of Leffandir and pulls her off. She fights him, but he manoeuvres her to the other side of the small space and there he pushes her into the wall and holds her still.
“Murderer!” Leffandir spits.
“Coming from you, Empress, the accusation holds no weight,” Lorn states. “No one in this room is as guilty as you are. Perhaps it was your fate to lose someone you loved, given how many loved ones you caused to mourn over time.”
Leffandir slides down the wall and her head lowers into a cradle of arms. Sobs shake her entire body as she weeps. It seems Lorn hit a nerve and she cannot deny his truth. I want to feel sorry for her, but she has killed many; perhaps it is her fate. My attention moves to Enris; he is unmoving and Damin has released him.
Abruptly he swings and punches the padding, doing so over and over in absolute silence. My heart breaks for my brother.
“You came to me, remember?” Lorn murmurs, watching him.
Enris straightens and is unmoving. He stares at Leffandir huddled into herself, shaking with the force of her grief. Eventually he nods, a slow and deliberate gesture. “Yes, I came to you.”
Leffandir’s head jerks up. Tears roll over her cheeks.
Enris swings to Lorn. “I came to you, for I did not know what to do next. The woman I loved was revealed as Glonu and that meant my neck in a guillotine if anyone heard of it. How did I know? Our daughter was not completely flesh; she was part ethereal. Half a light being. Part Glonu. That too would have seen me killed, and yet I was prepared to run with the woman I loved and our daughter. I needed help and came to you.” He paced away to stand before Leffandir, looking down. “Two days later our daughter was dead. I thought she died because her dual state weakened her.”
Blinking, Leffandir stared up. She uttered not a word.
Enris closed his eyes. “Given the terrible words we said to each other when I realised you were Glonu and given the death of our child, when you disappeared I believed, after a time, it was better for both of us. I believed grief and anger caused you to flee.”
“Did you look for me?” Leffandir asked, her tone without emotion.
“For many months.”
Lowering her head, she sighed.
“And my search uncovered the salient fact that you were the bloody Empress of the Glonu Empire,” Enris snarled. “By the stars, Leffandir, what was I supposed to think then?”
“What every Ilfin automatically thinks,” she muttered from her lowered position. “No Glonu can be trusted, not ever. Go away, Enris. There is nothing left. My one consolation in all this is that now I know you had no hand in Didra’s death.”
Lorn snorts. “You set your sights on the Makaran throne, Empress. Where is the trust in those conditions?”
“Let it go,” I snap. “Lorn, how long has our father left? What did you poison him with?”
Silence filled with heavy breathing descends. Leffandir seeks to control herself and breathes fast, while Enris is so deliberate in his inhales and exhales that I understand he attempts to control his fury … no, he attempts to control the Warrior within. I glance at Damin, to see him watching Enris carefully. Damin is aware that Enris can explode into the kind of action that has no remorse.
“Your father is tough,” Lorn mutters. “Another man would have succumbed by now, but he holds out. I had hoped his ‘illness’ would fell him, but we are at the point where we may need to help him along.”
Enris is a blur of movement … and so is Damin. Damin is faster, for he is not bowed in this by emotion, and he decks Enris solidly in the jaw. My brother goes down hard and does not move. Damin laid him out cold.
“Stubborn,” Damin mutters, standing over the prone form shaking his hand. “Bloody hard jaw, too.”
“Take me to my father,” I say to Lorn.
He glares at me. “I cannot walk, remember?”
I gather myself to stand. Then I inhale the courage needed to go to the man. The sight of his burnt hands makes my stomach churn. “I will heal your feet and, if you take me to my father and tell me what you used to slowly poison him, I will heal your hands also.” Kneeling, I lay my fingers on his boots. “You will lose your powers in the healing, but you will be alive and whole.”
Those two blue eyes stare at me. “Girl, I do not want to live without my powers. Besides, your father will kill me if he is renewed. I have no life left either way.”
“Then do it for Brandt,” I urge him. “I give you my word, uncle, that I will speak to Brandt’s innocence. I will ensure he lives a long and full life.”
Lorn Makar stares into my soul. That is what it feels like, so intense is his scrutiny. “You got it all, didn’t you? Every talent? Iniri, what a sorcerer you will make, far more than what I am capable of, if only you will accept who you are. I suggest you step up, for that is the only way to discover what kills your father. I will take you to him and then it is up to you.”
I shiver. He means it. Lorn Makar is a dead man and his final act is to create as much chaos as he is able to. Fine. I will do what I must, no matter what it costs me.
May 28, 2016
May 27, 2016
May 26, 2016
TKC Collage (Iniri 2)
Fourteen images later!
The King's Challenge #309
TKC 309
My stomach continues to roil even after Damin and Ross dump Lorn Makar in the small and insulated chamber. Never had I used a talent to cause harm and I do not know how to deal with the result of my actions.
Retreating to sit legs drawn up opposite where Lorn lies, I remain silent. Damin flicks me a searching look, but as the focus must be with our captive he soon turns away. Suddenly I feel bereft.
Siri sits beside me, briefly leaning her shoulder against mine in support. She understands. Now I do not feel as lonely.
Leffandir paces, her face expressionless. She looks at no one; she has focused her attention inward.
Siri healed Lorn enough for the man to be conscious and Enris props him up against the padded wall opposite me and Siri. Enris crouches at the man wounded feet. “Well done, Commander,” he murmurs, indicating the two bolts that felled the man.
Gennerin stares down wordless. He holds a small crossbow in one hand, a new bolt attached. Lorn Makar will not get away from him, even if he was able to. “The crossbow is silent,” Gennerin eventually remarks in answer to Enris.
“Indeed,” my brother murmurs. “Unfortunately, Lorn was a bit vocal.”
“They will be looking for him now,” Damin says in a grim tone. Jerking his head at Kay, he indicates that he and the westerner take up positions at the torn hole. There the two men stand guard; Ross, upon sign from his commander, joins them.
It is time for Lorn to talk. Gennerin stands at the man’s left, while Mirlin hunkers to his right.
Enris stares into our uncle’s two-toned blue eyes. “Talk.”
Lorn is lucid, although agony assails him, clear in the way he twitches. “Boy, I have nothing for you.”
“Then you die now.”
“If I die, your father does as well. Go ahead; my son is ready to sit on the throne back on Makaran.”
My stomach continues to roil even after Damin and Ross dump Lorn Makar in the small and insulated chamber. Never had I used a talent to cause harm and I do not know how to deal with the result of my actions.
Retreating to sit legs drawn up opposite where Lorn lies, I remain silent. Damin flicks me a searching look, but as the focus must be with our captive he soon turns away. Suddenly I feel bereft.
Siri sits beside me, briefly leaning her shoulder against mine in support. She understands. Now I do not feel as lonely.
Leffandir paces, her face expressionless. She looks at no one; she has focused her attention inward.
Siri healed Lorn enough for the man to be conscious and Enris props him up against the padded wall opposite me and Siri. Enris crouches at the man wounded feet. “Well done, Commander,” he murmurs, indicating the two bolts that felled the man.
Gennerin stares down wordless. He holds a small crossbow in one hand, a new bolt attached. Lorn Makar will not get away from him, even if he was able to. “The crossbow is silent,” Gennerin eventually remarks in answer to Enris.
“Indeed,” my brother murmurs. “Unfortunately, Lorn was a bit vocal.”
“They will be looking for him now,” Damin says in a grim tone. Jerking his head at Kay, he indicates that he and the westerner take up positions at the torn hole. There the two men stand guard; Ross, upon sign from his commander, joins them.
It is time for Lorn to talk. Gennerin stands at the man’s left, while Mirlin hunkers to his right.
Enris stares into our uncle’s two-toned blue eyes. “Talk.”
Lorn is lucid, although agony assails him, clear in the way he twitches. “Boy, I have nothing for you.”
“Then you die now.”
“If I die, your father does as well. Go ahead; my son is ready to sit on the throne back on Makaran.”
