Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 376
November 27, 2015
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The King's Challenge #118
TKC 118
Time has no meaning in an underground world. Without a sun as guide, there is no measurement.
How long I walk, I cannot say, but my aching feet tell the tale. As do the muscles in my thighs, for there are many stairs. Many. While tunnels branch off, I am led ever upward by the sighs on the edge of hearing. These infernal stairs seem eternal.
Eventually I am in what I can only describe as an antechamber. It is a large and level space I enter, with a flagged floor and decorated ceiling. The symbols carved into the rock above are all alien to me, however, if amazing in their intricacy. I study them for a time, hoping for insight, but there is nothing in the symbols even remotely familiar.
The bizarre rock glow is stronger here and it highlights the imposing set of double doors directly opposite the tunnel I entered from. It drew my attention immediately, of course, but I am wary of this entrance. This is akin to the crossroads; it is a matter of choice. I hoped for insight in the symbols …
Yes, my mind is a chaotic place right now.
I approach.
These doors lead to another world, a place of the others, of times long passed. I no longer wish to enter, and yet I am also aware of my duty. Inhaling and holding the breath, I reach out.
My hands begin to glow and heat rushes through me. My talents are taking control. The feeling is more familiar now, and thus I do not panic. I place a glowing hand on the right leaf … and push.
We may not enter here. Watch yourself, my lady.
Glancing over my shoulder, I smile at the nothingness there, knowing how populated the antechamber in fact is. “Thank you. Keep the faith.”
We await your return.
I enter the darkness beyond.
Time has no meaning in an underground world. Without a sun as guide, there is no measurement.
How long I walk, I cannot say, but my aching feet tell the tale. As do the muscles in my thighs, for there are many stairs. Many. While tunnels branch off, I am led ever upward by the sighs on the edge of hearing. These infernal stairs seem eternal.
Eventually I am in what I can only describe as an antechamber. It is a large and level space I enter, with a flagged floor and decorated ceiling. The symbols carved into the rock above are all alien to me, however, if amazing in their intricacy. I study them for a time, hoping for insight, but there is nothing in the symbols even remotely familiar.
The bizarre rock glow is stronger here and it highlights the imposing set of double doors directly opposite the tunnel I entered from. It drew my attention immediately, of course, but I am wary of this entrance. This is akin to the crossroads; it is a matter of choice. I hoped for insight in the symbols …
Yes, my mind is a chaotic place right now.
I approach.
These doors lead to another world, a place of the others, of times long passed. I no longer wish to enter, and yet I am also aware of my duty. Inhaling and holding the breath, I reach out.
My hands begin to glow and heat rushes through me. My talents are taking control. The feeling is more familiar now, and thus I do not panic. I place a glowing hand on the right leaf … and push.
We may not enter here. Watch yourself, my lady.
Glancing over my shoulder, I smile at the nothingness there, knowing how populated the antechamber in fact is. “Thank you. Keep the faith.”
We await your return.
I enter the darkness beyond.
On compiling episodes of The King's Challenge
Hello! I have started compiling the King’s Challenge into a document for editing, episode after episode, and already I discovered a few bloopers! For those of you who are new to the posting process, I write the episodes daily without forward planning, allowing the story to go where it takes us. I open Word, type the episode heading, and go. This means no editing, other than a quick once over for spelling and punctuation.
Having swiftly looked at what I’ve written to date as I inserted episodes … hmm. A plot hole or two. A spelling mistake overlooked. Point of view mess up in one of the episodes …
All will be fixed and tweaked before the final version is released! I suggest we go with the flow and allow the story to dictate direction, and at the end of it the rough edges will be smoothed away.
I am still having fun with this challenge! I hope you are enjoying the read! Forgive, therefore, inadvertent errors and simply come along with Lyra and Damin on this mission J
Having swiftly looked at what I’ve written to date as I inserted episodes … hmm. A plot hole or two. A spelling mistake overlooked. Point of view mess up in one of the episodes …
All will be fixed and tweaked before the final version is released! I suggest we go with the flow and allow the story to dictate direction, and at the end of it the rough edges will be smoothed away.
I am still having fun with this challenge! I hope you are enjoying the read! Forgive, therefore, inadvertent errors and simply come along with Lyra and Damin on this mission J
November 26, 2015
Justine's Journal now in book form!
Many of you followed Justine's weekly thoughts and know we intended to put it all into a book. Here it is! We are still working with a designer on the cover. Initially Justine and I thought to do everything ourselves, but cover design isn't exactly a skill either of us have. The one you see here is what we came up with, and both of us agree we need another! We particularly need help for the print wrap!!
If you haven't followed Justine's journey, all her posts are linked to in 'Justine's Journal' in the sidebar - feel free to browse :)
Blurb
Justine writes 500 words (or as near as), per week for 52 weeks, submitting her thoughts for anonymous posting, via her friend’s blog. At the end of the year they decide to create a book, hoping Justine’s thoughts will serve as inspiration to others.Justine is real, although her real name doesn’t appear in this book. She prefers the anonymity, for it is easier to share when no one knows who you are.Although believing a pattern will emerge from her words, one of self-knowledge, possibly of inspiration, it starts as a shared experiment. Initial doubts lead to a sense of excitement, as both writer and blogger feel the message coming through.This experiment and the results are shared here. Justine’s Journal isn’t meant to teach the rules of feelings or behaviour. There are no rules; everyone is different. This is simply one woman’s journey, a courageous one.
Author’s Note: Justine asked me, her friend, to remain as author of this book (although I only play the role of editor and reader), and we agreed any proceeds will go to a charity of her choice.
Amazon
If you haven't followed Justine's journey, all her posts are linked to in 'Justine's Journal' in the sidebar - feel free to browse :)
Blurb
Justine writes 500 words (or as near as), per week for 52 weeks, submitting her thoughts for anonymous posting, via her friend’s blog. At the end of the year they decide to create a book, hoping Justine’s thoughts will serve as inspiration to others.Justine is real, although her real name doesn’t appear in this book. She prefers the anonymity, for it is easier to share when no one knows who you are.Although believing a pattern will emerge from her words, one of self-knowledge, possibly of inspiration, it starts as a shared experiment. Initial doubts lead to a sense of excitement, as both writer and blogger feel the message coming through.This experiment and the results are shared here. Justine’s Journal isn’t meant to teach the rules of feelings or behaviour. There are no rules; everyone is different. This is simply one woman’s journey, a courageous one.
Author’s Note: Justine asked me, her friend, to remain as author of this book (although I only play the role of editor and reader), and we agreed any proceeds will go to a charity of her choice.
Amazon
The King's Challenge #117
TKC 117
I expected darkness. The lower the metal ladder takes me, the lighter it becomes, however. There is no light source other than the dwindling grey circle overhead and yet I am able to see. Perhaps it is a property of the ancient stone I now descend into.
My feet touch ground. A paved tunnel, faintly glowing. Somehow I find this stranger than anything that has gone before, for this reveals a past, a people with the ability to delve and dress rock.
Light beings did not do this. Their slaves did. How long has it been since the first sanctuary seekers vanished into obscurity in this place? Abruptly I feel time itself pressing down.
Shouldering my pack, I walk determinedly forward. I now wish I had not sent Hanna away; a companion will do much to lessen this burden.
My footfalls echo. My heartbeat thunders. My breath leaves me in great gasps. I am afraid. I make so much noise, I think even the dead will wake.
Go back …
Flinching, I halt.
Danger!
Swallowing, I understand the voices are all around me. The dead are not only awake, but speaking.
“I have to do this,” I say, and my words rebound akin to hollow bells. “I know why you seek to delay me, but too many will die if I stop now.”
Tricks and traps await you. Go back.
The other death is the easier death.
They lied!
I close my eyes. A host swirls around me, all faceless. My eyes snap open. Thank the stars they have no faces. “My brother will release you from this prison of waiting, but he must survive in order to do so.”
Silence surrounds me. The host is listening.
“Horin is a warrior. He will stand between us and them, this I swear. Help me now, please. Show me what to do. Show me how to save my people and together we will save each other from the otherworld beings.”
I wait a long time, unmoving, and then, I hear these words. This way, my lady. Come this way.
I expected darkness. The lower the metal ladder takes me, the lighter it becomes, however. There is no light source other than the dwindling grey circle overhead and yet I am able to see. Perhaps it is a property of the ancient stone I now descend into.
My feet touch ground. A paved tunnel, faintly glowing. Somehow I find this stranger than anything that has gone before, for this reveals a past, a people with the ability to delve and dress rock.
Light beings did not do this. Their slaves did. How long has it been since the first sanctuary seekers vanished into obscurity in this place? Abruptly I feel time itself pressing down.
Shouldering my pack, I walk determinedly forward. I now wish I had not sent Hanna away; a companion will do much to lessen this burden.
My footfalls echo. My heartbeat thunders. My breath leaves me in great gasps. I am afraid. I make so much noise, I think even the dead will wake.
Go back …
Flinching, I halt.
Danger!
Swallowing, I understand the voices are all around me. The dead are not only awake, but speaking.
“I have to do this,” I say, and my words rebound akin to hollow bells. “I know why you seek to delay me, but too many will die if I stop now.”
Tricks and traps await you. Go back.
The other death is the easier death.
They lied!
I close my eyes. A host swirls around me, all faceless. My eyes snap open. Thank the stars they have no faces. “My brother will release you from this prison of waiting, but he must survive in order to do so.”
Silence surrounds me. The host is listening.
“Horin is a warrior. He will stand between us and them, this I swear. Help me now, please. Show me what to do. Show me how to save my people and together we will save each other from the otherworld beings.”
I wait a long time, unmoving, and then, I hear these words. This way, my lady. Come this way.
November 25, 2015
The King's Challenge #116
TKC 116
Hanna is stubborn. She does not agree with me. Thus, in the middle of the night, while she is in deep sleep, I slip away.
She is able to track me, but I am hoping this will make her think. I hope she will choose, in the morning, to go back.
As silent as I am able to do so, I lead Leaf away. A fair distance from our camp, I enter the river, hoping I am far enough away not to wake Hanna with our splashing sounds. Hoping also that the point of entry into the current is where she loses my trail.
By mid-morning I understand I am alone. Either Hanna lost me or she chose to return as asked.
Never have I felt this lonely. Thank the stars for Leaf. Her warmth gives me hope.
Together we travel without incident for days, and then the morning arrives when the peaks tower over us. Buried in clouds up there is a suggestion of a spike, a manufactured object. My destination. The Spire.
The ethereal Sassen said to search for a trapdoor. While I do not trust her motives, about the entry point I do not think she lied. I hope so. Much of what I now do is based on hope.
In the end, finding it is easier than I believed it would be. In a dark glade, for the mountain throws a deep shadow, I find it. Seeing it brings Damin to mind and other trapdoors we used back in Normur. Suddenly I miss him with an ache that causes my stomach to roil. How I wish he is with me.
This is where Leaf and I must part ways. I remove my pack and water, and then unsaddle her. There is certainly enough for her to eat and drink, but I pray she will be fine. She has been a good friend.
Hanna is stubborn. She does not agree with me. Thus, in the middle of the night, while she is in deep sleep, I slip away.
She is able to track me, but I am hoping this will make her think. I hope she will choose, in the morning, to go back.
As silent as I am able to do so, I lead Leaf away. A fair distance from our camp, I enter the river, hoping I am far enough away not to wake Hanna with our splashing sounds. Hoping also that the point of entry into the current is where she loses my trail.
By mid-morning I understand I am alone. Either Hanna lost me or she chose to return as asked.
Never have I felt this lonely. Thank the stars for Leaf. Her warmth gives me hope.
Together we travel without incident for days, and then the morning arrives when the peaks tower over us. Buried in clouds up there is a suggestion of a spike, a manufactured object. My destination. The Spire.
The ethereal Sassen said to search for a trapdoor. While I do not trust her motives, about the entry point I do not think she lied. I hope so. Much of what I now do is based on hope.
In the end, finding it is easier than I believed it would be. In a dark glade, for the mountain throws a deep shadow, I find it. Seeing it brings Damin to mind and other trapdoors we used back in Normur. Suddenly I miss him with an ache that causes my stomach to roil. How I wish he is with me.
This is where Leaf and I must part ways. I remove my pack and water, and then unsaddle her. There is certainly enough for her to eat and drink, but I pray she will be fine. She has been a good friend.
