Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 350
April 23, 2016
The King's Challenge #281 and #282
TKC 281 and 282
The heart does as the heart sees fit. I cannot blame Leffandir for her efforts to again see the man she loves, but my logical mind has to deny the way she went about it.
Shrugging, I thus move away from the woman. “Bring her with us,” I say to Damin. “We will not be attacked while she is in our care.”
The man I love lifts an eyebrow. “Care?” he repeats.
“We need her to call the Glonu off,” Commander Gennerin murmurs. “She can send them all home.”
Hefting his rucksack and hauling the Empress up, Damin heads to the trapdoor. “Fine,” he mutters under his breath. He shoves her at the hole; she goes down without protest.
Watching that, I understand Leffandir hopes, by remaining in our company, to stand before Enris again. I wonder just what exactly their relationship entailed in the past. I admit, I am curious; I actually desire to be a witness at the reconciliation.
Gennerin clears his throat and gestures towards the trapdoor. I precede him to it and we go down. Gennerin pulls the door over the opening, plunging us into darkness. Below, however, light flickers. The torches affixed to Ilfin uniforms have been switched on.
Damin already strides into the darker region, firmly holding Leffandir and forcing her to be our guide. He is going the wrong way. She is taking him to the antechamber where stairs await. She intends to try for the pinnacle.
I do not call him back. Instead I turn to Gennerin. “Place the charges in the circle …” I point to an opening in the tunnel behind us. “There is the access to the foundations. Set the timing for one hour, and then return to the shuttle.”
He eyes me. “I have the clearest feeling you are not coming with us.”
I jut my chin out into the direction Damin vanishes into. “I will see that part of this done. Gennerin, wait until the explosion before taking to the skies.” I point to Marian. “She may need to finish it off.”
“What is your intention?”
“We will summon a flyer from the pinnacle. Have no fear, it will come for Leffandir and thus for us. Be sure to evacuate the whole of Arc after the Spire comes down.”
He is expressionless. “Lady, what is your intention?”
Sighing, I pat his upper arm. “I do not yet know, but I sense something must be done up there before I can leave. We shall meet again in the presence of my father.” Determined, I move away, striding into the darkness after Damin and Leffandir. I do not greet any one; I simply go. Time is now of the essence.
Gennerin will see it done. I trust him.
Swiftly I catch up to the two. Damin’s torchlight is a white beam piercing the dust-ridden gloom ahead. He no longer holds Leffandir, but walks behind her, slightly to one side for his light to go forth uninterrupted. He glances at me as I fall in alongside.
“Do not trust her. This is not just about love,” he mutters. “The woman we see here is also a slaver master and trader, and she has no conscience.”
“Then it isn’t love that drives her to Enris. Once, maybe, but now it is more.”
“Revenge,” Damin puts in. “She wants to make him suffer as he made her suffer.”
“How did Enris make her suffer?”
“Apparently there was a child born of their union. The presence of this daughter opened Enris’ eyes to who he was sleeping with.” Damin lifts a shoulder. “The girl was neither Glonu nor Ilfin and was not a combination either. She was conceived when Leffandir was already standing with one foot in the ethereal spaces and emerged as a half entity. Half physical, half ghost.”
By the stars. “What did Enris do?”
“He killed the girl …”
“… and Leffandir,” I whisper. “That was the day she became fully ethereal.”
The heart does as the heart sees fit. I cannot blame Leffandir for her efforts to again see the man she loves, but my logical mind has to deny the way she went about it.
Shrugging, I thus move away from the woman. “Bring her with us,” I say to Damin. “We will not be attacked while she is in our care.”
The man I love lifts an eyebrow. “Care?” he repeats.
“We need her to call the Glonu off,” Commander Gennerin murmurs. “She can send them all home.”
Hefting his rucksack and hauling the Empress up, Damin heads to the trapdoor. “Fine,” he mutters under his breath. He shoves her at the hole; she goes down without protest.
Watching that, I understand Leffandir hopes, by remaining in our company, to stand before Enris again. I wonder just what exactly their relationship entailed in the past. I admit, I am curious; I actually desire to be a witness at the reconciliation.
Gennerin clears his throat and gestures towards the trapdoor. I precede him to it and we go down. Gennerin pulls the door over the opening, plunging us into darkness. Below, however, light flickers. The torches affixed to Ilfin uniforms have been switched on.
Damin already strides into the darker region, firmly holding Leffandir and forcing her to be our guide. He is going the wrong way. She is taking him to the antechamber where stairs await. She intends to try for the pinnacle.
I do not call him back. Instead I turn to Gennerin. “Place the charges in the circle …” I point to an opening in the tunnel behind us. “There is the access to the foundations. Set the timing for one hour, and then return to the shuttle.”
He eyes me. “I have the clearest feeling you are not coming with us.”
I jut my chin out into the direction Damin vanishes into. “I will see that part of this done. Gennerin, wait until the explosion before taking to the skies.” I point to Marian. “She may need to finish it off.”
“What is your intention?”
“We will summon a flyer from the pinnacle. Have no fear, it will come for Leffandir and thus for us. Be sure to evacuate the whole of Arc after the Spire comes down.”
He is expressionless. “Lady, what is your intention?”
Sighing, I pat his upper arm. “I do not yet know, but I sense something must be done up there before I can leave. We shall meet again in the presence of my father.” Determined, I move away, striding into the darkness after Damin and Leffandir. I do not greet any one; I simply go. Time is now of the essence.
Gennerin will see it done. I trust him.
Swiftly I catch up to the two. Damin’s torchlight is a white beam piercing the dust-ridden gloom ahead. He no longer holds Leffandir, but walks behind her, slightly to one side for his light to go forth uninterrupted. He glances at me as I fall in alongside.
“Do not trust her. This is not just about love,” he mutters. “The woman we see here is also a slaver master and trader, and she has no conscience.”
“Then it isn’t love that drives her to Enris. Once, maybe, but now it is more.”
“Revenge,” Damin puts in. “She wants to make him suffer as he made her suffer.”
“How did Enris make her suffer?”
“Apparently there was a child born of their union. The presence of this daughter opened Enris’ eyes to who he was sleeping with.” Damin lifts a shoulder. “The girl was neither Glonu nor Ilfin and was not a combination either. She was conceived when Leffandir was already standing with one foot in the ethereal spaces and emerged as a half entity. Half physical, half ghost.”
By the stars. “What did Enris do?”
“He killed the girl …”
“… and Leffandir,” I whisper. “That was the day she became fully ethereal.”
April 22, 2016
April 21, 2016
The King's Challenge #280
TKC 280
The Glonu woman rears back and snarls, but she cannot break from Damin’s hold.
“You will die!” she screams.
“No,” Damin responds with amazing equanimity, “you will.”
I shove my face into hers. “Leffandir,” I whisper.
She slumps then and the ghostly host vanishes into thin air as if they were merely figments of the imagination. It is a truth the host depends on the mind-set of the controller, which has now been circumvented.
Sliding through Damin’s hold, the woman falls to her knees in the dirt. Damin releases her to stand braced before her, gazing down. Gennerin marches up and takes up position behind her.
“You are Iniri,’ she whispers, lifting her eyes to me. “This world will be the ending for both of us now.”
I kneel as well. “I will return.”
Her head lowers until her chin almost touches her breast. “I will not. The Delver is right. I will die.”
“Empress, why?” I blurt. “Why this world? Why wait so terribly long for it?”
Leffandir. Empress Eternal of the Glonu Empire, raises her head. “To unmask Enris here, where he cannot escape me.”
By the stars. “Why?”
“To join with him, to create a hybrid royal house.”
I swallow. This is a far-ranging goal. “Massin will be your seat?”
“Our seat. For me and for Enris.”
I blink at her, hearing something added in her tone. “You have known Enris in a past life.”
Her sigh moves through me, into the well of compassion I have inside me. In another time she loved Enris; she loves him still.
“He denied you,” I state.
“When he discovered who I am, yes.”
“And thus you drew him to an empty world. The Glonu ideal of slavery was merely the means to draw him in.” I stare at her. “Leffandir, Enris will never change for you.”
She stares back at me. “I simply wanted to see him one more time.”
The Glonu woman rears back and snarls, but she cannot break from Damin’s hold.
“You will die!” she screams.
“No,” Damin responds with amazing equanimity, “you will.”
I shove my face into hers. “Leffandir,” I whisper.
She slumps then and the ghostly host vanishes into thin air as if they were merely figments of the imagination. It is a truth the host depends on the mind-set of the controller, which has now been circumvented.
Sliding through Damin’s hold, the woman falls to her knees in the dirt. Damin releases her to stand braced before her, gazing down. Gennerin marches up and takes up position behind her.
“You are Iniri,’ she whispers, lifting her eyes to me. “This world will be the ending for both of us now.”
I kneel as well. “I will return.”
Her head lowers until her chin almost touches her breast. “I will not. The Delver is right. I will die.”
“Empress, why?” I blurt. “Why this world? Why wait so terribly long for it?”
Leffandir. Empress Eternal of the Glonu Empire, raises her head. “To unmask Enris here, where he cannot escape me.”
By the stars. “Why?”
“To join with him, to create a hybrid royal house.”
I swallow. This is a far-ranging goal. “Massin will be your seat?”
“Our seat. For me and for Enris.”
I blink at her, hearing something added in her tone. “You have known Enris in a past life.”
Her sigh moves through me, into the well of compassion I have inside me. In another time she loved Enris; she loves him still.
“He denied you,” I state.
“When he discovered who I am, yes.”
“And thus you drew him to an empty world. The Glonu ideal of slavery was merely the means to draw him in.” I stare at her. “Leffandir, Enris will never change for you.”
She stares back at me. “I simply wanted to see him one more time.”
April 20, 2016
The King's Challenge #279
TKC 279
Commander Gennerin strides forward, heading directly to the ethereal woman.
“Gennerin!” Damin rasps. “Don’t!”
The older man glances over his shoulder. “Just be ready,” he says, and goes on walking.
Ready for what? I look quickly at Damin to find him stoic. Expressionless and calm. Whatever Gennerin intends, Damin has marked it. He does not like it, but he knows what will come next. By the stars, the men in my life are all mad and far too ready to die.
The ghostly horde tightens the perimeter, but they do not attack. When they do, we cannot survive them, but it appears they wait for the command to do so.
What is going on?
I focus on Sassen. She watches the approaching Ilfin commander with amusement evident in her expression. “Please, mortal, what can you possibly do?”
Peripherally, I notice Damin flexes his fingers, both hands.
Oh.
My attention narrows to the ethereal woman. I must be ready also for what will come next.
Gennerin speaks then, his tone one of satisfaction. “My talent is the ability to reveal liars in whichever form they appear in. Did you sense this? Clearly not, or you would have dissipated already.”
The woman’s amusement vanishes.
“This gift permits me an added ability few others possess,” Gennerin continues, and in that moment he is with her, in her face, and he grips her ethereal shoulders with both his hands. “It allows me to solidify what is unreal to others.”
His fingers dig in; Sassen screeches as vapours of thin white smoke waft upward. It is akin to the tendrils of heat from a hot stew vanishing into the air as the concoction cools. Gennerin then jerks the woman forward and shifts his weight. He throws her towards Damin.
Damin catches her, and I shout, “Leffandir!”
Commander Gennerin strides forward, heading directly to the ethereal woman.
“Gennerin!” Damin rasps. “Don’t!”
The older man glances over his shoulder. “Just be ready,” he says, and goes on walking.
Ready for what? I look quickly at Damin to find him stoic. Expressionless and calm. Whatever Gennerin intends, Damin has marked it. He does not like it, but he knows what will come next. By the stars, the men in my life are all mad and far too ready to die.
The ghostly horde tightens the perimeter, but they do not attack. When they do, we cannot survive them, but it appears they wait for the command to do so.
What is going on?
I focus on Sassen. She watches the approaching Ilfin commander with amusement evident in her expression. “Please, mortal, what can you possibly do?”
Peripherally, I notice Damin flexes his fingers, both hands.
Oh.
My attention narrows to the ethereal woman. I must be ready also for what will come next.
Gennerin speaks then, his tone one of satisfaction. “My talent is the ability to reveal liars in whichever form they appear in. Did you sense this? Clearly not, or you would have dissipated already.”
The woman’s amusement vanishes.
“This gift permits me an added ability few others possess,” Gennerin continues, and in that moment he is with her, in her face, and he grips her ethereal shoulders with both his hands. “It allows me to solidify what is unreal to others.”
His fingers dig in; Sassen screeches as vapours of thin white smoke waft upward. It is akin to the tendrils of heat from a hot stew vanishing into the air as the concoction cools. Gennerin then jerks the woman forward and shifts his weight. He throws her towards Damin.
Damin catches her, and I shout, “Leffandir!”
April 18, 2016
The King's Challenge #278
TKC 278
Gennerin grips my arm. He does so unobtrusively. The others do not see him do so; more importantly, Sassen does not see him make contact. Initially I desire to jerk my arm free; swiftly, though, I feel the message in his fingertips.
Gennerin is trying to tell me something.
I give no sign; I listen to him.
The soldier uses an ancient method of sequence pressure, much like the dot and dash code employed on Massin, although far older. This method of communication does not rely on sound.
Sassen spouts some inane nonsense about caring for Arc in particular and for Massin in general; I focus my attention on her as if listening, but the true message comes to me from the fingertips on my arm.
She wears the face of the first Empress. She is the embodiment of someone long dead. Do not trust her. Her real name is Leffandir.
By the stars! Leffandir! If this is her, she is …
And then it is, quite simply, too late to give thought to those complications. Screeching and moaning, a host enters the clearing. Every Glonu felled upon the mountain, every Ilfin that died there, all who were killed in the running battles to this point, all, charge into our presence. All the souls of the dead. To the last, they are under Glonu control.
It is a terrible host.
“IN!” I scream, pushing Marian to the trapdoor entrance. “GO! All of you!”
They go, dropping into the hole without care for consequence. Injuries in the influx will be easier dealt with than fighting this host. Damin shoves those who are too slow; we hear shrieks as they stumble into the darkness.
Sassen laughs, holding one hand aloft. The host surrounds me, Damin and Gennerin. We are the last. Not even the orb is able to fight this. We will die if we stay.
Gennerin grips my arm. He does so unobtrusively. The others do not see him do so; more importantly, Sassen does not see him make contact. Initially I desire to jerk my arm free; swiftly, though, I feel the message in his fingertips.
Gennerin is trying to tell me something.
I give no sign; I listen to him.
The soldier uses an ancient method of sequence pressure, much like the dot and dash code employed on Massin, although far older. This method of communication does not rely on sound.
Sassen spouts some inane nonsense about caring for Arc in particular and for Massin in general; I focus my attention on her as if listening, but the true message comes to me from the fingertips on my arm.
She wears the face of the first Empress. She is the embodiment of someone long dead. Do not trust her. Her real name is Leffandir.
By the stars! Leffandir! If this is her, she is …
And then it is, quite simply, too late to give thought to those complications. Screeching and moaning, a host enters the clearing. Every Glonu felled upon the mountain, every Ilfin that died there, all who were killed in the running battles to this point, all, charge into our presence. All the souls of the dead. To the last, they are under Glonu control.
It is a terrible host.
“IN!” I scream, pushing Marian to the trapdoor entrance. “GO! All of you!”
They go, dropping into the hole without care for consequence. Injuries in the influx will be easier dealt with than fighting this host. Damin shoves those who are too slow; we hear shrieks as they stumble into the darkness.
Sassen laughs, holding one hand aloft. The host surrounds me, Damin and Gennerin. We are the last. Not even the orb is able to fight this. We will die if we stay.
