Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 356
March 19, 2016
March 17, 2016
Review - Sand Witch by Poppet
This is an intriguing story of a guy who goes out to a desert retreat and there meets a Sand Witch, a gentle pagan with some ideas about what an intimate relationship is all about. Sparks fly, I tell you!
Add in a less than savoury ex and a dubious aunt, stir in a hallucinogenic and some weird situations, and you have a page turner - loved it!
Sand Witch
The King's Challenge #248 - #250
TKC 248 and 249 and 250
I no longer have to wonder about direction. The skies are alight with beams and the cacophony of cruisers and shuttles deafens. The Ilfin have engaged the Glonu in battle inside their sanctuary.
Running, I see little of the terrain. Everything is a blur.
Hours pass and still the battle rages. I hear explosions; ships have fallen, although I cannot tell who they belong to.
As the sun’s hazy presence reaches its zenith for the day, four shuttles head towards me. Whether they are fleeing the battle or reworking strategy is guesswork, but I do know they see me, a lone man running with the hounds of hell behind him.
Three ships circle then, and one gradually reduces height to hover in my path.
I stop running. Thank the stars, I am not even winded, or I will have nothing to defend myself with. Reaching into my pocket, I withdraw the orb and hold it aloft.
Brilliant green light erupts from my fingers.
The shuttle sets down with a thump. Before the engines have even reduced revolutions, the ramp lowers.
A man strides down with ten armed soldiers surrounding him. They do not point those weapons at me; they train them on the countryside. This man knows who I am.
He halts smartly before me, salutes, and bows his head. “Lord Makar.”
Clearly the Ilfin have not forgotten about the son sent into the stars. I do not know whether to be relieved or burdened by this insight. “I am Enris, yes. And you are?” I lower the orb, enclosing it until the glows dim.
The man lifts his head. An older man, one accustomed to leadership and soldiering. “I am Athol Gennerin.”
“Horin!”
I lift me gaze to the head of the ramp to find Siri Mur there. “Hello, Siri,” I murmur. I focus on the commander. “You have the Delver with you?”
“We do.”
“Excellent. Tell him to contact Damin to tell him we are coming.” I stride for the ramp, leaving the commander and his soldiers to follow. “I will supply co-ordinates. Oh, and have this analysed.” I hand the man the shale slivers as he falls in beside me. “We believe the Spire is raised with this.”
“Excellent,” Gennerin murmurs as he accepts the trophies. “Hal! Tell Damin we are on our way to them!”
I see a shadow moving behind Siri, but she has my attention. As I reach her, she throws her arms about me and holds me.
“Horin, I am so glad you are safe,” she whispers into my neck.
I swallow. I know this young woman, but the knowledge is Horin’s. Enris has not held a woman in a long time. I am not attracted to Siri, but I no longer remember how it feels to have someone care enough about me to simply come forward and hold me. Briefly tightening our clasp, an appreciation, I step away.
“Siri, I am happy to know you are safe also,” I smile at her.
She claps her hands. “And now Damin!”
Still smiling, I enter the sterile and technological space to find soldiers everywhere, along with the westerner Kay, and the two Messengers Damin told us are now with Siri. The larger man has his eyes closed, no doubt reaching to Damin. He opens them as the ramp lifts to shut behind me.
“Damin sends his relief,” Hal murmurs.
I nod at him, rattle off some numbers to Gennerin, who gestures significantly.
Moments later we are airborne.
The soldiers hit the deck, knees slamming hard. Commander Gennerin is now watching me. Kay, I notice, passes his glance over the bowed troops before resting a curious gaze on me.
“Horin,” Siri whispers.
I shake my head. “I am not Horin.” Taking a step, I brace before the soldiers. “Men, raise your eyes.”
Heads snap up and eyes latch onto me.
“My father is Emperor Linus Makar of Makaran,” and I hold the orb out upon my palm. It burst into green flame. “My name is Enris Makar and I am heir to the throne.”
No one makes a sound other than to whistle in breath and all eyes fixate on the glowing orb.
Enclosing it once more, I snuff those glows. “I am also a soldier,” I murmur, ‘and greet you as a soldier. Rise, my Ilfin, and be at ease.”
Someone laughs, someone claps, and soon all are on their feet. Smiles slip onto faces and the men start whispering together. I meet Kay’s gaze. He inclines his head, saying nothing. Shrugging, I turn to Gennerin.
“How fare you against the Glonu?”
“Not well,” the commander snaps. “Shall we?” He indicates a small chamber left of the common area.
I head towards it, saying, “Kay, if you please.”
“What about me?” Siri demands.
“You are not a soldier, Siri.” I enter the small space with Gennerin on my heels. Kay slips in, giving Siri a look over his shoulder. “Close it.”
As Siri strides forward, Gennerin punches a button and a door slides between us and her rebellious expression.
“She will have your liver for breakfast,” Kay murmurs. “Mine too, probably.”
“Rather that than have her brother standing over us with a blunt pitchfork to do the same,” I say, causing Kay to grin. “Commander?”
Gennerin draws himself up. “We are throwing everything we have planet side at the Glonu here. Unfortunately they have recalled all theirs to this region also and we are outnumbered. We have lost four ships in the last hours. They have lost three.”
“The Spire?”
“We have not been close enough to it yet.”
Nodding, I sit at the tiny table. “Then this is what we must do.”
I no longer have to wonder about direction. The skies are alight with beams and the cacophony of cruisers and shuttles deafens. The Ilfin have engaged the Glonu in battle inside their sanctuary.
Running, I see little of the terrain. Everything is a blur.
Hours pass and still the battle rages. I hear explosions; ships have fallen, although I cannot tell who they belong to.
As the sun’s hazy presence reaches its zenith for the day, four shuttles head towards me. Whether they are fleeing the battle or reworking strategy is guesswork, but I do know they see me, a lone man running with the hounds of hell behind him.
Three ships circle then, and one gradually reduces height to hover in my path.
I stop running. Thank the stars, I am not even winded, or I will have nothing to defend myself with. Reaching into my pocket, I withdraw the orb and hold it aloft.
Brilliant green light erupts from my fingers.
The shuttle sets down with a thump. Before the engines have even reduced revolutions, the ramp lowers.
A man strides down with ten armed soldiers surrounding him. They do not point those weapons at me; they train them on the countryside. This man knows who I am.
He halts smartly before me, salutes, and bows his head. “Lord Makar.”
Clearly the Ilfin have not forgotten about the son sent into the stars. I do not know whether to be relieved or burdened by this insight. “I am Enris, yes. And you are?” I lower the orb, enclosing it until the glows dim.
The man lifts his head. An older man, one accustomed to leadership and soldiering. “I am Athol Gennerin.”
“Horin!”
I lift me gaze to the head of the ramp to find Siri Mur there. “Hello, Siri,” I murmur. I focus on the commander. “You have the Delver with you?”
“We do.”
“Excellent. Tell him to contact Damin to tell him we are coming.” I stride for the ramp, leaving the commander and his soldiers to follow. “I will supply co-ordinates. Oh, and have this analysed.” I hand the man the shale slivers as he falls in beside me. “We believe the Spire is raised with this.”
“Excellent,” Gennerin murmurs as he accepts the trophies. “Hal! Tell Damin we are on our way to them!”
I see a shadow moving behind Siri, but she has my attention. As I reach her, she throws her arms about me and holds me.
“Horin, I am so glad you are safe,” she whispers into my neck.
I swallow. I know this young woman, but the knowledge is Horin’s. Enris has not held a woman in a long time. I am not attracted to Siri, but I no longer remember how it feels to have someone care enough about me to simply come forward and hold me. Briefly tightening our clasp, an appreciation, I step away.
“Siri, I am happy to know you are safe also,” I smile at her.
She claps her hands. “And now Damin!”
Still smiling, I enter the sterile and technological space to find soldiers everywhere, along with the westerner Kay, and the two Messengers Damin told us are now with Siri. The larger man has his eyes closed, no doubt reaching to Damin. He opens them as the ramp lifts to shut behind me.
“Damin sends his relief,” Hal murmurs.
I nod at him, rattle off some numbers to Gennerin, who gestures significantly.
Moments later we are airborne.
The soldiers hit the deck, knees slamming hard. Commander Gennerin is now watching me. Kay, I notice, passes his glance over the bowed troops before resting a curious gaze on me.
“Horin,” Siri whispers.
I shake my head. “I am not Horin.” Taking a step, I brace before the soldiers. “Men, raise your eyes.”
Heads snap up and eyes latch onto me.
“My father is Emperor Linus Makar of Makaran,” and I hold the orb out upon my palm. It burst into green flame. “My name is Enris Makar and I am heir to the throne.”
No one makes a sound other than to whistle in breath and all eyes fixate on the glowing orb.
Enclosing it once more, I snuff those glows. “I am also a soldier,” I murmur, ‘and greet you as a soldier. Rise, my Ilfin, and be at ease.”
Someone laughs, someone claps, and soon all are on their feet. Smiles slip onto faces and the men start whispering together. I meet Kay’s gaze. He inclines his head, saying nothing. Shrugging, I turn to Gennerin.
“How fare you against the Glonu?”
“Not well,” the commander snaps. “Shall we?” He indicates a small chamber left of the common area.
I head towards it, saying, “Kay, if you please.”
“What about me?” Siri demands.
“You are not a soldier, Siri.” I enter the small space with Gennerin on my heels. Kay slips in, giving Siri a look over his shoulder. “Close it.”
As Siri strides forward, Gennerin punches a button and a door slides between us and her rebellious expression.
“She will have your liver for breakfast,” Kay murmurs. “Mine too, probably.”
“Rather that than have her brother standing over us with a blunt pitchfork to do the same,” I say, causing Kay to grin. “Commander?”
Gennerin draws himself up. “We are throwing everything we have planet side at the Glonu here. Unfortunately they have recalled all theirs to this region also and we are outnumbered. We have lost four ships in the last hours. They have lost three.”
“The Spire?”
“We have not been close enough to it yet.”
Nodding, I sit at the tiny table. “Then this is what we must do.”
March 16, 2016
The King's Challenge #244 - #247
TKC 244, 245, 246 and 247
Amassing at the treeline, we await the Ilfin flyover. Barely has light greyed the sky before it comes to pass.
A mighty roar of sound enters our space, deafening and debilitating, and then a host of shuttles are swift and intent above us. As one they head east on a slightly southern trajectory.
I watch carefully and make note of the relevant landmarks we will use to reach the same destination. There isn’t much to pinpoint, given the obscuring achieved by the Glonu, but it will suffice.
I point out the nearest feature to Damin. “There. See the outcrop slightly darker than the rock around it? We aim towards it.”
He has marked the same pointers, and simply nods. It means we will cross the open space before us. Damin calls out, “We go now while this half-light offers us protection!”
He steps out and hastens forward. Swiftly the others follow.
As the sound of the Ilfin ships die away, Lyra comes to a halt beside me, watching Damin lead our troop across. “We came further north than I did before,” she murmurs. “We were truly lost.”
I glance at her. “You need to look inward more and trust what you see there. Lyra, we are out of time here. We have to get to that spire before it is fully operational.”
She nods, shrugs and moves to cross the openness. Halting abruptly, she swings back. “You are frustrated. Enris, the truth is, you need to see this time, not what was before. You too will be more effective.” She then goes on walking.
I stare across the space. She is right. I tend to base current decisions on previous encounters, when in this current era there are changes. The Glonu soldiers are flesh to the last for this war, where before they were both of form and ether. The soldiers are markedly better trained also. In previous encounters, they were clumsier. And this time the Glonu have the numbers.
It is time indeed to re-evaluate mind-set and strategy.
Bringing in the rear, I follow the others.
The river is flowing fast, but it is shallow and we cross without issue. On the opposite bank the stone is sharper, more like flint. It must be due to the run-off from the edged outcrops in the distance.
I stop to stare into the distance.
Those rock faces were mined, which is why they no longer possess the roundness of what we have encountered to date. They were mined for the Spire. My heart thuds in my chest, for a recall one of my instructor’s words, a time long gone, a man long passed on. Ha, do not base what you do now on what went before, true, but do not forget the lessons learned then either.
Enris, one day a rock will stand in your path, whether great or insignificant, and it will be an obstacle or an answer. The choice will be yours, for how you regard it will determine your actions thereafter.
I already know perception is power, and therefore it is the rest of his words that hold the true meaning I now seek.
A rock is of time, Enris, and will reveal to you the age of on edifice or the freshness of a nuance. You will understand what I mean. My advice? See the rock. Read the rock. Feel the rock. Know the rock. There is your answer.
I remember laughing at the man, for it was too cryptic to have meaning. I also remember that he repeated it word for word, forcing me to commit his ‘advice’ to memory.
See the rock. I see it, indeed. Read the rock. I recognise it as mined.
Feel the rock.
Swiftly I bend to gather up a few slivers of the shale underfoot. Rubbing them between my fingers, I concentrate. They have a soapy feel, as if they are soft, quite unlike the hard stones we have stumbled across until now.
Know the rock.
Porous. This rock is porous. Not only is it easier to mine, but it allows for ethereal beings to enter and exit a space created from it with greater ease.
It is doubtful my instructor spoke then of an actual physical rock – he may have inferred any type of conundrum whether physical or of the mind – and yet never has advice been this accurate. Laughing under my breath, I thank the man for forcing me to commit it to memory.
“Damin!”
He chivvies the others into the trees and when the last man has vanished from view, he lopes back to me.
“Enris, get under cover.”
“In a moment.” I point at the outcrop we marked earlier. “Would you agree that has been mined?’
The fair man squints through the gloom. Eventually he nods. “It has the look of a disused quarry, yes.””
I show him the slivers in my hands.
Frowning, he takes one. He is aware I am trying to make a point. He, too, rubs it between his fingers, an automatic reaction. His brow clears moments later. “Soft,” he whispers. His head jerks up. “If the Spire was raised with this …”
“… it will fall easily, yes.”
“Damn, I wish we still had horses,” he mutters.
All our horses scattered when the fighting began, unfortunately. I get Damin’s point. At least one of us on horseback to make up the time to the Spire will have helped at this point.
He is staring fixedly at me, causing me to shiver. I may be Enris Makar, but Damin Mur is the Marsh Devil; he has talents suited to this world also and can be intimidating.
“You are a Warrior,” he states. “Time to run, Enris, with all your strength and stamina. Find the Ilfin commander and tell him how to bring the Spire down.” Still he stares at me. “I will lead the others.”
Inhaling sharply, I realise Lyra is correct again. Think for this time … as Damin does. I am the Warrior. I am able to run for days and, right now, that is what is required of me.
“You are on the mark,” I murmur, and shove the rock samples into a pocket. Swivelling my shoulders, I step forward. “Take care of my sister.” I prepare to run …
“Lyra is a Makar too, isn’t she?”
I smile over my shoulder. “Yes.” Jogging forward, I inflate my lungs.
“What about me, Enris?” Damin calls out from behind me.
“You will know soon enough!” I throw over my shoulder … and pick up speed.
Soon all is a blur. Trees, rock, sky and earth.
Damin’s faint curse causes me to grin.
I run.
Amassing at the treeline, we await the Ilfin flyover. Barely has light greyed the sky before it comes to pass.
A mighty roar of sound enters our space, deafening and debilitating, and then a host of shuttles are swift and intent above us. As one they head east on a slightly southern trajectory.
I watch carefully and make note of the relevant landmarks we will use to reach the same destination. There isn’t much to pinpoint, given the obscuring achieved by the Glonu, but it will suffice.
I point out the nearest feature to Damin. “There. See the outcrop slightly darker than the rock around it? We aim towards it.”
He has marked the same pointers, and simply nods. It means we will cross the open space before us. Damin calls out, “We go now while this half-light offers us protection!”
He steps out and hastens forward. Swiftly the others follow.
As the sound of the Ilfin ships die away, Lyra comes to a halt beside me, watching Damin lead our troop across. “We came further north than I did before,” she murmurs. “We were truly lost.”
I glance at her. “You need to look inward more and trust what you see there. Lyra, we are out of time here. We have to get to that spire before it is fully operational.”
She nods, shrugs and moves to cross the openness. Halting abruptly, she swings back. “You are frustrated. Enris, the truth is, you need to see this time, not what was before. You too will be more effective.” She then goes on walking.
I stare across the space. She is right. I tend to base current decisions on previous encounters, when in this current era there are changes. The Glonu soldiers are flesh to the last for this war, where before they were both of form and ether. The soldiers are markedly better trained also. In previous encounters, they were clumsier. And this time the Glonu have the numbers.
It is time indeed to re-evaluate mind-set and strategy.
Bringing in the rear, I follow the others.
The river is flowing fast, but it is shallow and we cross without issue. On the opposite bank the stone is sharper, more like flint. It must be due to the run-off from the edged outcrops in the distance.
I stop to stare into the distance.
Those rock faces were mined, which is why they no longer possess the roundness of what we have encountered to date. They were mined for the Spire. My heart thuds in my chest, for a recall one of my instructor’s words, a time long gone, a man long passed on. Ha, do not base what you do now on what went before, true, but do not forget the lessons learned then either.
Enris, one day a rock will stand in your path, whether great or insignificant, and it will be an obstacle or an answer. The choice will be yours, for how you regard it will determine your actions thereafter.
I already know perception is power, and therefore it is the rest of his words that hold the true meaning I now seek.
A rock is of time, Enris, and will reveal to you the age of on edifice or the freshness of a nuance. You will understand what I mean. My advice? See the rock. Read the rock. Feel the rock. Know the rock. There is your answer.
I remember laughing at the man, for it was too cryptic to have meaning. I also remember that he repeated it word for word, forcing me to commit his ‘advice’ to memory.
See the rock. I see it, indeed. Read the rock. I recognise it as mined.
Feel the rock.
Swiftly I bend to gather up a few slivers of the shale underfoot. Rubbing them between my fingers, I concentrate. They have a soapy feel, as if they are soft, quite unlike the hard stones we have stumbled across until now.
Know the rock.
Porous. This rock is porous. Not only is it easier to mine, but it allows for ethereal beings to enter and exit a space created from it with greater ease.
It is doubtful my instructor spoke then of an actual physical rock – he may have inferred any type of conundrum whether physical or of the mind – and yet never has advice been this accurate. Laughing under my breath, I thank the man for forcing me to commit it to memory.
“Damin!”
He chivvies the others into the trees and when the last man has vanished from view, he lopes back to me.
“Enris, get under cover.”
“In a moment.” I point at the outcrop we marked earlier. “Would you agree that has been mined?’
The fair man squints through the gloom. Eventually he nods. “It has the look of a disused quarry, yes.””
I show him the slivers in my hands.
Frowning, he takes one. He is aware I am trying to make a point. He, too, rubs it between his fingers, an automatic reaction. His brow clears moments later. “Soft,” he whispers. His head jerks up. “If the Spire was raised with this …”
“… it will fall easily, yes.”
“Damn, I wish we still had horses,” he mutters.
All our horses scattered when the fighting began, unfortunately. I get Damin’s point. At least one of us on horseback to make up the time to the Spire will have helped at this point.
He is staring fixedly at me, causing me to shiver. I may be Enris Makar, but Damin Mur is the Marsh Devil; he has talents suited to this world also and can be intimidating.
“You are a Warrior,” he states. “Time to run, Enris, with all your strength and stamina. Find the Ilfin commander and tell him how to bring the Spire down.” Still he stares at me. “I will lead the others.”
Inhaling sharply, I realise Lyra is correct again. Think for this time … as Damin does. I am the Warrior. I am able to run for days and, right now, that is what is required of me.
“You are on the mark,” I murmur, and shove the rock samples into a pocket. Swivelling my shoulders, I step forward. “Take care of my sister.” I prepare to run …
“Lyra is a Makar too, isn’t she?”
I smile over my shoulder. “Yes.” Jogging forward, I inflate my lungs.
“What about me, Enris?” Damin calls out from behind me.
“You will know soon enough!” I throw over my shoulder … and pick up speed.
Soon all is a blur. Trees, rock, sky and earth.
Damin’s faint curse causes me to grin.
I run.
March 15, 2016
March 14, 2016
The king's Challenge - March Update
Hello! I know I am a bit behind with our TKC episodes, but life is a bit frantic (home renovation) and I will catch up as soon as possible. It will probably be a bumper post!
Until then :)
Until then :)
March 11, 2016
The King's Challenge #241 - #243
TKC 241, 242 and 243
The edge of this stretch of trees is in sight before darkness takes us. After telling the others to stay back and out of sight, Damin and I creep to the treeline. It is beyond dark out there. A Glonu soldier may be standing a metre from us, weapon trained, and we will not see him. Relying therefore on sound instead, we hunker.
We too must make no noises.
Damin is good at this, I realise. Another man will be nervous and those nerves will be clear in uneven breathing louder than usual – a dead giveaway – but I cannot discern one breath from the man at my side. In fact, he serves to encourage me; I hope I am as silent as he is.
Hours we sit unmoving.
Sounds do penetrate the ink of night, most of them of a more natural order. An owl hoots intermittently somewhere to our left. Bats meander on the edge of hearing. Scuffles in the undergrowth reveal the nocturnal population is awake.
A sneeze cuts into the silence at one stage, then a marked shush sound. The others know to keep it quiet, but accidents happen. I am even more wary, for that sneeze travelled quite a distance.
Near the arrival of a new day, when it is darker than anything that goes before, a noise stiffens my every sense. Beside me I feel Damin tense. A boot scrape. As if a man wanders the night in stealth. Perhaps he shifted a loose stone. Perhaps he is not alone. Maybe a patrol is headed directly to our vantage point.
Then, by the stars, it changes.
Light floods the area. Sound explodes.
A cruiser. A night flight.
The beams hit the territory we inhabit, a flood of light. Almost I curse aloud, but survival is paramount and that instinct limits the involuntary reaction to a thought rather than an action.
Fifty soldiers hunker on a riverbank directly below us. To the last, each man is awake and alert.
Damin’s lips draw back in astonishment, but he contains himself. His gaze flicks around before he nods at me, and I agree with him. Where we are is well camouflaged from casual inspection. The soldiers cannot see us. I am beyond amazed they did not hear the sneeze of earlier.
Thank the stars they did not hear us.
The cruiser lowers with a high-pitched sound that entirely disturbs the calm of the soldiers below. Men hurtle up, some swearing, other gesticulating in irritation. The swift ship hovers and the men march towards it. A ramp lowers and one by one the soldiers vanish into it.
The cruiser lifts and gives the area a final light sweep. In the search, I realise we are now alone.
The ship swirls up and vanishes into distance.
Damin releases an explosive breath. “That was too close.”
“These Glonu are far better at soldiering than they were in the past,” I mutter. “At least we now have a lay of the land.”
The territory below our hideaway is flat and open, with a river running through it. We cannot cross here without being seen. Left of us is forest and to the right is a ridge that climbs ever higher.
“Where we go next depends on the Ilfin flyover,” Damin remarks.
It feels as if he reads my mind and I glance sharply at him.
He shrugs. “I am no doubt thinking what you are thinking.”
I give him a grin. Right.
He stands then and stretches mightily. “It will be light soon. I am going to bring the others in.” He walks away without waiting for my agreement.
“Do that,” I mutter under my breath. Damin has been leader long enough not to ask permission, although it sometimes leads to the two of us not seeing the same.
The darkness gradually gives way to the greyness of pre-dawn. I watch a pair of deer come down to water to drink. This Arc is beautiful; how dare we destroy it in battles for supremacy? The deer have no concept of war and yet they will feel the results. Innocents. They deserve protection, not annihilation.
Inhaling, I stare at them. My thoughts move to memories of Makaran. It has been thousands of years since I have seen my homeworld, but the images remain sharp. The deer there are larger and far more skittish than these local creatures, but they were respected and cherished. Makaran has ever harked to the natural world. Nature forms part of the Ilfin.
Why then this need to make war? Why am I soldier before I am a forest wanderer … when I desire only to walk amid giant trees?
Lyra kneels beside me. “Enris, you need to rest.”
I glance at my sister. Why does she not remember Makaran? How am I the one cursed to always know, to remember?
“I am fine,” I murmur, looking away.
It is the orb. With the brightest clarity, for the first time I understand it is the magical device that has changed my future. The day my father placed it upon my palm in the Tiled Dome was also the day everything changed for me. I am aware of the Warrior talent and how debilitating it is once it assumes supremacy – it kills the host in swift years – but the orb prevents it coming to pass. It heightens the Warrior … and keeps him alive.
I have been alive too long.
I am weary of war.
The edge of this stretch of trees is in sight before darkness takes us. After telling the others to stay back and out of sight, Damin and I creep to the treeline. It is beyond dark out there. A Glonu soldier may be standing a metre from us, weapon trained, and we will not see him. Relying therefore on sound instead, we hunker.
We too must make no noises.
Damin is good at this, I realise. Another man will be nervous and those nerves will be clear in uneven breathing louder than usual – a dead giveaway – but I cannot discern one breath from the man at my side. In fact, he serves to encourage me; I hope I am as silent as he is.
Hours we sit unmoving.
Sounds do penetrate the ink of night, most of them of a more natural order. An owl hoots intermittently somewhere to our left. Bats meander on the edge of hearing. Scuffles in the undergrowth reveal the nocturnal population is awake.
A sneeze cuts into the silence at one stage, then a marked shush sound. The others know to keep it quiet, but accidents happen. I am even more wary, for that sneeze travelled quite a distance.
Near the arrival of a new day, when it is darker than anything that goes before, a noise stiffens my every sense. Beside me I feel Damin tense. A boot scrape. As if a man wanders the night in stealth. Perhaps he shifted a loose stone. Perhaps he is not alone. Maybe a patrol is headed directly to our vantage point.
Then, by the stars, it changes.
Light floods the area. Sound explodes.
A cruiser. A night flight.
The beams hit the territory we inhabit, a flood of light. Almost I curse aloud, but survival is paramount and that instinct limits the involuntary reaction to a thought rather than an action.
Fifty soldiers hunker on a riverbank directly below us. To the last, each man is awake and alert.
Damin’s lips draw back in astonishment, but he contains himself. His gaze flicks around before he nods at me, and I agree with him. Where we are is well camouflaged from casual inspection. The soldiers cannot see us. I am beyond amazed they did not hear the sneeze of earlier.
Thank the stars they did not hear us.
The cruiser lowers with a high-pitched sound that entirely disturbs the calm of the soldiers below. Men hurtle up, some swearing, other gesticulating in irritation. The swift ship hovers and the men march towards it. A ramp lowers and one by one the soldiers vanish into it.
The cruiser lifts and gives the area a final light sweep. In the search, I realise we are now alone.
The ship swirls up and vanishes into distance.
Damin releases an explosive breath. “That was too close.”
“These Glonu are far better at soldiering than they were in the past,” I mutter. “At least we now have a lay of the land.”
The territory below our hideaway is flat and open, with a river running through it. We cannot cross here without being seen. Left of us is forest and to the right is a ridge that climbs ever higher.
“Where we go next depends on the Ilfin flyover,” Damin remarks.
It feels as if he reads my mind and I glance sharply at him.
He shrugs. “I am no doubt thinking what you are thinking.”
I give him a grin. Right.
He stands then and stretches mightily. “It will be light soon. I am going to bring the others in.” He walks away without waiting for my agreement.
“Do that,” I mutter under my breath. Damin has been leader long enough not to ask permission, although it sometimes leads to the two of us not seeing the same.
The darkness gradually gives way to the greyness of pre-dawn. I watch a pair of deer come down to water to drink. This Arc is beautiful; how dare we destroy it in battles for supremacy? The deer have no concept of war and yet they will feel the results. Innocents. They deserve protection, not annihilation.
Inhaling, I stare at them. My thoughts move to memories of Makaran. It has been thousands of years since I have seen my homeworld, but the images remain sharp. The deer there are larger and far more skittish than these local creatures, but they were respected and cherished. Makaran has ever harked to the natural world. Nature forms part of the Ilfin.
Why then this need to make war? Why am I soldier before I am a forest wanderer … when I desire only to walk amid giant trees?
Lyra kneels beside me. “Enris, you need to rest.”
I glance at my sister. Why does she not remember Makaran? How am I the one cursed to always know, to remember?
“I am fine,” I murmur, looking away.
It is the orb. With the brightest clarity, for the first time I understand it is the magical device that has changed my future. The day my father placed it upon my palm in the Tiled Dome was also the day everything changed for me. I am aware of the Warrior talent and how debilitating it is once it assumes supremacy – it kills the host in swift years – but the orb prevents it coming to pass. It heightens the Warrior … and keeps him alive.
I have been alive too long.
I am weary of war.
