Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 357
March 10, 2016
March 9, 2016
March 8, 2016
The King's Challenge #240
TKC 240
We move on staying under cover. Fortunately the trees are dense overhead in this region. Every whine in the air causes everyone to inadvertently duck, however. Many have died due a bolt from above.
Lyra and Hanna have led us to the point where they previously separated, at the river’s edge, and from there Lyra took over to lead us to the Spire. All trace of her previous path has been erased. Not even Artur, a skilled tracker, is able to find anything.
We are lost.
I see how it frustrates Lyra, but she must find it inside now. No one can do it for her.
Damin grips my arm, hauling me to a halt. “Stop!” I call out in a penetrating whisper. All movements ceases. “Damin?”
He releases me, but does not react. He stares into the trees as if looking at a faraway place. We have seen this before. Someone is communicating with him. We wait. He will tell us when he is free of it.
Eventually he focuses. The expression he gifts us with thereafter causes the hairs on my arms to spike.
“They are coming,” he says. “All the Ilfin currently on Massin are coming to Arc. Their aim is to destroy the Spire.”
I close my eyes. By the stars, it is the best news.
“From Hal?” Joseph asks quietly.
Damin nods. “He is with Siri and Kay in an Ilfin shuttle.”
Lyra clasps her hands together, smiling.
“When?” Mirlin demands. “When are the ships arriving?”
“Tomorrow, soon after dawn,” Damin states.
Everyone stares at me. “We need a place where we are able to view the sky,” I say. “Once we determine the direction of their flight, we will know where the Spire is.”
“It will be dark soon,” Lyra says.
“Then we must make haste.” I stride forward and the others follow. I sense hope is reborn, for their footsteps are lighter and far more determined than earlier.
We move on staying under cover. Fortunately the trees are dense overhead in this region. Every whine in the air causes everyone to inadvertently duck, however. Many have died due a bolt from above.
Lyra and Hanna have led us to the point where they previously separated, at the river’s edge, and from there Lyra took over to lead us to the Spire. All trace of her previous path has been erased. Not even Artur, a skilled tracker, is able to find anything.
We are lost.
I see how it frustrates Lyra, but she must find it inside now. No one can do it for her.
Damin grips my arm, hauling me to a halt. “Stop!” I call out in a penetrating whisper. All movements ceases. “Damin?”
He releases me, but does not react. He stares into the trees as if looking at a faraway place. We have seen this before. Someone is communicating with him. We wait. He will tell us when he is free of it.
Eventually he focuses. The expression he gifts us with thereafter causes the hairs on my arms to spike.
“They are coming,” he says. “All the Ilfin currently on Massin are coming to Arc. Their aim is to destroy the Spire.”
I close my eyes. By the stars, it is the best news.
“From Hal?” Joseph asks quietly.
Damin nods. “He is with Siri and Kay in an Ilfin shuttle.”
Lyra clasps her hands together, smiling.
“When?” Mirlin demands. “When are the ships arriving?”
“Tomorrow, soon after dawn,” Damin states.
Everyone stares at me. “We need a place where we are able to view the sky,” I say. “Once we determine the direction of their flight, we will know where the Spire is.”
“It will be dark soon,” Lyra says.
“Then we must make haste.” I stride forward and the others follow. I sense hope is reborn, for their footsteps are lighter and far more determined than earlier.
March 7, 2016
The King's Challenge #238 and #239
Part 8Enris Makar
TKC 238 and 239
Resting on my sword, I study the situation.
There are less than thirty Ilfin remaining to me. This untried army has shrunk to virtually nil. Everyone else we brought across the plains is dead. Those who are left are the fit men and women able to run long and fast enough to escape the Glonu – that is how they have survived until now, for they are not fighters. The old and the young are gone, as well as those who were too slow.
My gaze lifts to my sister. She is known as Lyra here – how strange.
Lyra’s aura is one of grief and horror, and helplessness. I have seen her employ her talents to kill and it bows her soul.
Damin Mur has lost all expression. He sits on a boulder alongside Lyra, but there is nothing to read in him. Damin is now a true soldier. He functions on automatic and he possesses the stamina to go on long after others surrender.
The older man, Mirlin, has not given in yet, but he is close to simply sitting and waiting for death to take him. He is now the sole westerner left in the gathering.
The one Damin calls Artur is indefatigable. The man is huge and refuses to surrender. He is also filled with rage. Apparently he is the final survivor from a place known as Grenmassin, other than Lyra and Damin.
The Messengers Joseph and Hanna, although older, have kept up. Their auras are of hopelessness.
My ghostly comrades have fallen, but they did us a service in taking all ethereal Glonu with them.
We now fight real men with mighty weapons and an inexhaustible supply of ammunition. The time of the sword has passed. Fortunately these men have no talents; it is the single advantage remaining to us.
Straightening, I sheath my blade. I wonder how we will win this as I do so. Our options are now limited. At present all we can do is run and hide.
Hearing the whine of cruisers, I squint through the foliage. One flies over too swiftly to mark our position, and there are at least four others in the region. Far enough away not to see us, by the lower tones of their engines.
“Damin!” I call out.
The fair-headed man stands and closes in. I notice he does not look at Lyra, and she watches him sadly. They are married, but in war love cannot function well.
“Enris.” Damin halts in front of me.
“Tell them we stop for ten minutes only.” I have made him my second.
The man folds his arms. “They are exhausted.”
“I am aware, but we will generate a heat signature the cruisers will read. Ten minutes.”
Damin nods stiffly and heads back to his perch. I hear him tell the others; no one responds. They are indeed exhausted.
Lyra strides towards me, her face set in determination. “Horin, we need …”
“My name is Enris,” I state.
She curses under her breath. “Whatever, brother. Now you listen to me; I am older than you are …”
“I am the eldest Makar,” I interrupt her. “Even if you could claim years on me as my sister, you have not before been to war. Here my word is law.”
She blinks at me, taken aback. “Enris, please.”
I lean closer to whisper, “Find the path to the Spire. We have not much time left to us. The slower you are, the more will die.’
She pales markedly, and swings away to return to Damin’s side. I inhale for equilibrium. Hurting her is not my intention, but it is a truth, without our ethereal guides, we are lost. Lyra alone knows how to find the Spire, for all view of it has been obscured by cloud and smoke. As a landmark it has vanished, leaving nothing to follow.
We must find it or we are doomed.
TKC 238 and 239
Resting on my sword, I study the situation.
There are less than thirty Ilfin remaining to me. This untried army has shrunk to virtually nil. Everyone else we brought across the plains is dead. Those who are left are the fit men and women able to run long and fast enough to escape the Glonu – that is how they have survived until now, for they are not fighters. The old and the young are gone, as well as those who were too slow.
My gaze lifts to my sister. She is known as Lyra here – how strange.
Lyra’s aura is one of grief and horror, and helplessness. I have seen her employ her talents to kill and it bows her soul.
Damin Mur has lost all expression. He sits on a boulder alongside Lyra, but there is nothing to read in him. Damin is now a true soldier. He functions on automatic and he possesses the stamina to go on long after others surrender.
The older man, Mirlin, has not given in yet, but he is close to simply sitting and waiting for death to take him. He is now the sole westerner left in the gathering.
The one Damin calls Artur is indefatigable. The man is huge and refuses to surrender. He is also filled with rage. Apparently he is the final survivor from a place known as Grenmassin, other than Lyra and Damin.
The Messengers Joseph and Hanna, although older, have kept up. Their auras are of hopelessness.
My ghostly comrades have fallen, but they did us a service in taking all ethereal Glonu with them.
We now fight real men with mighty weapons and an inexhaustible supply of ammunition. The time of the sword has passed. Fortunately these men have no talents; it is the single advantage remaining to us.
Straightening, I sheath my blade. I wonder how we will win this as I do so. Our options are now limited. At present all we can do is run and hide.
Hearing the whine of cruisers, I squint through the foliage. One flies over too swiftly to mark our position, and there are at least four others in the region. Far enough away not to see us, by the lower tones of their engines.
“Damin!” I call out.
The fair-headed man stands and closes in. I notice he does not look at Lyra, and she watches him sadly. They are married, but in war love cannot function well.
“Enris.” Damin halts in front of me.
“Tell them we stop for ten minutes only.” I have made him my second.
The man folds his arms. “They are exhausted.”
“I am aware, but we will generate a heat signature the cruisers will read. Ten minutes.”
Damin nods stiffly and heads back to his perch. I hear him tell the others; no one responds. They are indeed exhausted.
Lyra strides towards me, her face set in determination. “Horin, we need …”
“My name is Enris,” I state.
She curses under her breath. “Whatever, brother. Now you listen to me; I am older than you are …”
“I am the eldest Makar,” I interrupt her. “Even if you could claim years on me as my sister, you have not before been to war. Here my word is law.”
She blinks at me, taken aback. “Enris, please.”
I lean closer to whisper, “Find the path to the Spire. We have not much time left to us. The slower you are, the more will die.’
She pales markedly, and swings away to return to Damin’s side. I inhale for equilibrium. Hurting her is not my intention, but it is a truth, without our ethereal guides, we are lost. Lyra alone knows how to find the Spire, for all view of it has been obscured by cloud and smoke. As a landmark it has vanished, leaving nothing to follow.
We must find it or we are doomed.
TKC Collage - Siri's Story 2
The King's Challenge will now shift focus to the mysterious Enris Makar. Here, therefore the collage for Siri's episodes :)
FREE on Smashwords!
Hello, everyone! As part of Smashwords' Read and ebook Week's promotion, most of my books have been marked as FREE - now is your chance to grab a copy or two!
Elaina on Smashwords
xxx
Elaina on Smashwords
xxx
March 5, 2016
The King's Challenge #234 - #237
TKC 234, 235, 236 and 237
Gennirin leans in again. “The odds are not in our favour, I grant you, but Ilfin say to the stars with odds. Of course, until you were brought in, with news of Enris Makar and his mighty orb, we believed the odds were beyond overwhelming.”
“Why does Enris and his orb change it?” Kay asks.
The commander remains silent for a while, glancing at each of us in turn, as if to confirm our intentions. “What have you seen the orb do?”
Kay looks at me and I nod his way. It is no great secret, after all, what the orb did for us.
“It created a web shield against those who sought to prevent Siri and her people leave this plateau …”
“Wait. Where are youfrom?” Gennerin asks.
“West, the ocean cities. We brought our people to join in the march to freedom.”
The commander sighs. “Freedom from what? Leave the plateau? To where? I think you had better start at the beginning.”
And thus we tell him. Taking turns, inserting our stories at the opportune moments in the narrative, we weave a story for him. Except it is no story; it is only truth. We begin with the asteroid and continue into the desperate march across the plains into Arc. We speak of talents and reveal Horin’s protection and aid via the orb, from the web to the destruction of the soldiers on their flying shields into the bridges built. As we speak of the orb, we begin to understand why Gennerin sees the odds moving into our favour. Hal and Marian tell of conditions before and after the rock in the heavens, and their attempts to save the horses. We speak of meeting up in the dead of night, and the cave system … and the dead there.
So many dead. Here, in the caves, inside Arc. Massin will be sparsely populated if we win this war.
Gennerin leans back when silence eventually falls, wordless. I notice Corporal Allin standing in a doorway, his mouth open. Indeed, it is a fantastical tale.
Finally the commander finds the wherewithal to speak. “The asteroid was the catalyst. It brought change. Here and out there in the vacuum. Ha.” He taps the table with one finger. “Arc is where this war will be won.” He pauses and then adds, “I thought it a myth and now that is disproved.”
“Myth?” Kay echoes.
“Arc. I have heard stories about secret places, each with a spire able to manipulate souls, but I did not believe.”
“Places?” I repeat. “There is more than one Arc?”
The soldier nods. “Apparently, yes, one for each world the Glonu conquer.”
Marian hisses her shock. I agree with her reaction. We thought we are unique in the manipulation and to be told it is obviously a tried and tested method of conquer is frightening. It means the Glonu know exactly what they are doing and they intend to win this.
“Tell me,” Kay says, “what do the stories say about those other secret places and spires? What happens after the Glonu have sold a world to the highest bidder?”
Gennerin stares at him. “From what I have heard and read, the spires remain … as protection.”
Corporal Allin steps in. “Commander? If I may?” He receives a nod, and closes in. “My father is a historian and he shared many tales about the Glonu and Ilfin wars.”
“Get to the point, Allin,” the commander growls.
“Yes, sir. The spire is a command centre, but is more than technology. If left undisturbed, as in when the Glonu sell a world and move on, protection is eternal. Have our leaders not wondered why we are unable to redeem those worlds? While the Glonu remain in the region, engaged in conquer, the spire serves as their senses …”
The older soldier glares at his underling. “Senses? What are you on about?”
Allin swiftly continues, no doubt thinking his commander will muzzle him soon. “It is their eyes and ears, to put it more simply, and they are able to see and hear far. It is their first defence and also their last, until they have achieved goal.”
Kay stares at him. “I get the distinct impression the spire is vulnerable when the Glonu are in situ.”
Allin nods vigorously. “Yes! And by the sound of what you shared, this spire is particularly vulnerable. It has been unattended and ignored due to the time passed in waiting for a large enough army to come do the bidding of the Glonu.”
“It aged,” I whisper. “The Glonu lost the physical ability here to command it.”
Corporal Alin inclines his head. “”Now is the time to destroy it.” “He glances at his commander. “Using the orb.”
“Is there a story about the destruction of a spire?” Kay asks before the commander is able to respond.
“Indeed,” Allin murmurs. “My father told me of two such events.”
Gennerin looks at him when he ceases speaking. “Well? Don’t leave us hanging, man.”
Quickly I hide a grin behind my hand. Clearly the commander is as wrapt as we are.
The corporal nods. “As you say, sir. A long time ago when the Glonu were not quite as powerful as they are now, a spire imploded due to a foundation shift. My father speculates it may have been an earthquake, but it is also possible the defenders of that world placed an explosive device with accuracy.”
“Terrain instability can therefore work for us,” Hal murmurs.
“Hard to achieve,” Gennerin mutters. “Go on, Allin.”
“Sir, you know of the Makar history. Enris’ father …”
The commander slaps the table. “He sent the Glonu packing from Flonlis!”
“Indeed, but how?” Allin asks. “The popular tale is one of lasers. Our esteemed and revered ruler targeted Glonu institutions using thousands of beams to undermine their systems.”
“And the real story?” Marian demands.
“He targeted only the spire and eventually it toppled.”
I frown. “Why is that not known?”
Allin draws a breath and releases explosively. “Loss of life was catastrophic.”
Kay glares at the corporal. “And yet you suggest we destroy this spire.”
The man nods. “It is inactive at this point. Now is the time to do so. Chances are it will simply collapse and that will be the end of it.”
“Chances are?” I gasp.
“I am prepared to assume that risk,” Gennerin states and heaves to his feet. “Allin, give the order to pack and be ready to move by morning. We are going to Arc.”
The corporal salutes smartly and hastens away.
“There are thousands of Glonu inside Arc already,” I say.
“They may already have activated that spire,” Kay spits out. “We have friends and family there!”
Gennerin’s gaze is cold. He is again the man in charge. “We will match them with personnel, weapons and vessels, whatever they have in that ring of mountains. Prepare yourselves. We leave in the morning. I must now contact the other commanders.” He strides out.
I swing immediately to Hal. “Warn Damin.”
The Messenger closes his eyes without saying a word and vanishes into his world of images.
Gennirin leans in again. “The odds are not in our favour, I grant you, but Ilfin say to the stars with odds. Of course, until you were brought in, with news of Enris Makar and his mighty orb, we believed the odds were beyond overwhelming.”
“Why does Enris and his orb change it?” Kay asks.
The commander remains silent for a while, glancing at each of us in turn, as if to confirm our intentions. “What have you seen the orb do?”
Kay looks at me and I nod his way. It is no great secret, after all, what the orb did for us.
“It created a web shield against those who sought to prevent Siri and her people leave this plateau …”
“Wait. Where are youfrom?” Gennerin asks.
“West, the ocean cities. We brought our people to join in the march to freedom.”
The commander sighs. “Freedom from what? Leave the plateau? To where? I think you had better start at the beginning.”
And thus we tell him. Taking turns, inserting our stories at the opportune moments in the narrative, we weave a story for him. Except it is no story; it is only truth. We begin with the asteroid and continue into the desperate march across the plains into Arc. We speak of talents and reveal Horin’s protection and aid via the orb, from the web to the destruction of the soldiers on their flying shields into the bridges built. As we speak of the orb, we begin to understand why Gennerin sees the odds moving into our favour. Hal and Marian tell of conditions before and after the rock in the heavens, and their attempts to save the horses. We speak of meeting up in the dead of night, and the cave system … and the dead there.
So many dead. Here, in the caves, inside Arc. Massin will be sparsely populated if we win this war.
Gennerin leans back when silence eventually falls, wordless. I notice Corporal Allin standing in a doorway, his mouth open. Indeed, it is a fantastical tale.
Finally the commander finds the wherewithal to speak. “The asteroid was the catalyst. It brought change. Here and out there in the vacuum. Ha.” He taps the table with one finger. “Arc is where this war will be won.” He pauses and then adds, “I thought it a myth and now that is disproved.”
“Myth?” Kay echoes.
“Arc. I have heard stories about secret places, each with a spire able to manipulate souls, but I did not believe.”
“Places?” I repeat. “There is more than one Arc?”
The soldier nods. “Apparently, yes, one for each world the Glonu conquer.”
Marian hisses her shock. I agree with her reaction. We thought we are unique in the manipulation and to be told it is obviously a tried and tested method of conquer is frightening. It means the Glonu know exactly what they are doing and they intend to win this.
“Tell me,” Kay says, “what do the stories say about those other secret places and spires? What happens after the Glonu have sold a world to the highest bidder?”
Gennerin stares at him. “From what I have heard and read, the spires remain … as protection.”
Corporal Allin steps in. “Commander? If I may?” He receives a nod, and closes in. “My father is a historian and he shared many tales about the Glonu and Ilfin wars.”
“Get to the point, Allin,” the commander growls.
“Yes, sir. The spire is a command centre, but is more than technology. If left undisturbed, as in when the Glonu sell a world and move on, protection is eternal. Have our leaders not wondered why we are unable to redeem those worlds? While the Glonu remain in the region, engaged in conquer, the spire serves as their senses …”
The older soldier glares at his underling. “Senses? What are you on about?”
Allin swiftly continues, no doubt thinking his commander will muzzle him soon. “It is their eyes and ears, to put it more simply, and they are able to see and hear far. It is their first defence and also their last, until they have achieved goal.”
Kay stares at him. “I get the distinct impression the spire is vulnerable when the Glonu are in situ.”
Allin nods vigorously. “Yes! And by the sound of what you shared, this spire is particularly vulnerable. It has been unattended and ignored due to the time passed in waiting for a large enough army to come do the bidding of the Glonu.”
“It aged,” I whisper. “The Glonu lost the physical ability here to command it.”
Corporal Alin inclines his head. “”Now is the time to destroy it.” “He glances at his commander. “Using the orb.”
“Is there a story about the destruction of a spire?” Kay asks before the commander is able to respond.
“Indeed,” Allin murmurs. “My father told me of two such events.”
Gennerin looks at him when he ceases speaking. “Well? Don’t leave us hanging, man.”
Quickly I hide a grin behind my hand. Clearly the commander is as wrapt as we are.
The corporal nods. “As you say, sir. A long time ago when the Glonu were not quite as powerful as they are now, a spire imploded due to a foundation shift. My father speculates it may have been an earthquake, but it is also possible the defenders of that world placed an explosive device with accuracy.”
“Terrain instability can therefore work for us,” Hal murmurs.
“Hard to achieve,” Gennerin mutters. “Go on, Allin.”
“Sir, you know of the Makar history. Enris’ father …”
The commander slaps the table. “He sent the Glonu packing from Flonlis!”
“Indeed, but how?” Allin asks. “The popular tale is one of lasers. Our esteemed and revered ruler targeted Glonu institutions using thousands of beams to undermine their systems.”
“And the real story?” Marian demands.
“He targeted only the spire and eventually it toppled.”
I frown. “Why is that not known?”
Allin draws a breath and releases explosively. “Loss of life was catastrophic.”
Kay glares at the corporal. “And yet you suggest we destroy this spire.”
The man nods. “It is inactive at this point. Now is the time to do so. Chances are it will simply collapse and that will be the end of it.”
“Chances are?” I gasp.
“I am prepared to assume that risk,” Gennerin states and heaves to his feet. “Allin, give the order to pack and be ready to move by morning. We are going to Arc.”
The corporal salutes smartly and hastens away.
“There are thousands of Glonu inside Arc already,” I say.
“They may already have activated that spire,” Kay spits out. “We have friends and family there!”
Gennerin’s gaze is cold. He is again the man in charge. “We will match them with personnel, weapons and vessels, whatever they have in that ring of mountains. Prepare yourselves. We leave in the morning. I must now contact the other commanders.” He strides out.
I swing immediately to Hal. “Warn Damin.”
The Messenger closes his eyes without saying a word and vanishes into his world of images.
