Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 381
November 4, 2015
The King's Challenge #96
TKC 96
Kay has a long, unpronounceable name stemming from his mother’s ancestry. She came to Orlean when she was five years old from the sands and their tribes across the sea, and later named her only son after a grandfather far away.
We have always called him ‘Kay’. He always insisted on it, laughing when he attempted to speak his full name. After my brother, this man has ever been there for me. As I have for him.
We meet and embrace, slapping backs and laughing. “You made it.”
“Hit and miss, brother,” he laughs as he shoves long dark hair from his face. “Many tried to stop us, but eventually I paid the town criers to announce the march and invite all who wished to walk with us to do so at a given time.” He slaps his thighs in appreciation. “Set the falcon among the rats, I did!”
Kay’s irrepressible good humour is a balm I have missed. “How many?”
He looks behind him at a dark mass of people. “I reckon around fifty thousand.”
I whistle. “Well done.”
“There is another column about two hours behind us, from Cassis. Manuel leads, and from their dust, we can expect about the same soon.”
Again I whistle. We certainly have enough hands and minds for our new society.
“How many from the plateau?” Kay asks.
“Twenty thousand. Population wise, they were sparser than we thought.”
“You mean we could have overrun them years ago?” Kay doubles over in laughter upon seeing my face. “Joke, brother!” He straightens when Damin approaches.
“Damin Mur, our leader,” I say. “Damin, meet Kay Longstone.”
The two men grip hands, each studying the other carefully. “Marsh Devil, huh?” Kay then goads.
Damin smiles. “They call you the Pennant.”
“How do you know?” I demand.
Damin glances at me. “You are not the only one with secrets.”
Kay has a long, unpronounceable name stemming from his mother’s ancestry. She came to Orlean when she was five years old from the sands and their tribes across the sea, and later named her only son after a grandfather far away.
We have always called him ‘Kay’. He always insisted on it, laughing when he attempted to speak his full name. After my brother, this man has ever been there for me. As I have for him.
We meet and embrace, slapping backs and laughing. “You made it.”
“Hit and miss, brother,” he laughs as he shoves long dark hair from his face. “Many tried to stop us, but eventually I paid the town criers to announce the march and invite all who wished to walk with us to do so at a given time.” He slaps his thighs in appreciation. “Set the falcon among the rats, I did!”
Kay’s irrepressible good humour is a balm I have missed. “How many?”
He looks behind him at a dark mass of people. “I reckon around fifty thousand.”
I whistle. “Well done.”
“There is another column about two hours behind us, from Cassis. Manuel leads, and from their dust, we can expect about the same soon.”
Again I whistle. We certainly have enough hands and minds for our new society.
“How many from the plateau?” Kay asks.
“Twenty thousand. Population wise, they were sparser than we thought.”
“You mean we could have overrun them years ago?” Kay doubles over in laughter upon seeing my face. “Joke, brother!” He straightens when Damin approaches.
“Damin Mur, our leader,” I say. “Damin, meet Kay Longstone.”
The two men grip hands, each studying the other carefully. “Marsh Devil, huh?” Kay then goads.
Damin smiles. “They call you the Pennant.”
“How do you know?” I demand.
Damin glances at me. “You are not the only one with secrets.”
November 3, 2015
The King's Challenge #95
TKC 95
By nightfall the mountains we seek to cross loom. Tomorrow we will find the hidden pass. Joseph, it seems, knows exactly where it is. His map led Lyra and Hanna to it, he claims.
Of the days left to us, we have less than three. I am not alone in giving thanks for Horin’s path. Had he not helped, we would now be looking at these ancient rocks from afar.
The orb in the heavens is massive. It shines brighter than a full moon, and tonight’s sunset did not diminish its glow. It is both blue and yellow simultaneously, although everyone seems to have a different view. Some say it is green, others amber, some silver and yet others claim it is pink. It is about perception.
Will it impact with Massin? That is the real question we seek an answer to.
I am not alone in praying for it to pass us by. While I have prompted, shoved, led and exhorted for reaching the sanctuary lying before us, it is true my confidence is based more on old tales and ancient legends than it is on fact. I hope Arc will prove sanctuary; I do not know if it is able to. If the rock does swing wide, we have before us a haven, a chance to begin a new civilisation. A part of me is cynical, however. I wonder if we will make different choices.
Damin shakes me from sleep in the dead of night. “Mirlin, a host approaches.”
I peer up to see Horin with him, orb in hand. “Where?”
“West.”
Beginning to smile, I struggled up. “Must be the marchers from the west.” Hastening to the edge of our sprawling camp, I attempt to pierce the darkness with my added sight.
“Mirlin!” a voice shouts.
Punching the air, I shout back, “Hoy, Kay! Welcome!”
By nightfall the mountains we seek to cross loom. Tomorrow we will find the hidden pass. Joseph, it seems, knows exactly where it is. His map led Lyra and Hanna to it, he claims.
Of the days left to us, we have less than three. I am not alone in giving thanks for Horin’s path. Had he not helped, we would now be looking at these ancient rocks from afar.
The orb in the heavens is massive. It shines brighter than a full moon, and tonight’s sunset did not diminish its glow. It is both blue and yellow simultaneously, although everyone seems to have a different view. Some say it is green, others amber, some silver and yet others claim it is pink. It is about perception.
Will it impact with Massin? That is the real question we seek an answer to.
I am not alone in praying for it to pass us by. While I have prompted, shoved, led and exhorted for reaching the sanctuary lying before us, it is true my confidence is based more on old tales and ancient legends than it is on fact. I hope Arc will prove sanctuary; I do not know if it is able to. If the rock does swing wide, we have before us a haven, a chance to begin a new civilisation. A part of me is cynical, however. I wonder if we will make different choices.
Damin shakes me from sleep in the dead of night. “Mirlin, a host approaches.”
I peer up to see Horin with him, orb in hand. “Where?”
“West.”
Beginning to smile, I struggled up. “Must be the marchers from the west.” Hastening to the edge of our sprawling camp, I attempt to pierce the darkness with my added sight.
“Mirlin!” a voice shouts.
Punching the air, I shout back, “Hoy, Kay! Welcome!”
November 2, 2015
The King's Challenge #94
TKC 94
My mentor in Orlean, a city of red stone and blue cobbles nestled at the foot of our northern mountain in the west, told me there are devices able to aid growth. Generally they are used to help a weak child, a newborn regarded as too fragile to survive or an older person losing mobility. Healing, in other words, but he admitted these devices are able to achieve something greater. He also said they are often misused.
As Joseph and Damin continued discussing the situation on the plateau, a futile conversation, truth be told, for as Horin said, it is time to leave all that behind, I study the boy.
The manipulation he employed against the cavalry and the shield flyers – and now uses as a path to speed us along – is also an orb. We have seen him summon the green light, only to hold it as a tangible object. I doubt we can hold it as he does, though. It appears to me, the more he employs the manipulation, the more solid it is to him. He has created something tangible from the processes nestling in his mind.
Horin is more powerful than we comprehend.
And it changes him.
I do not believe he misuses the device, but it may be misusing him. He is at least a head taller than a few days ago and his frame has filled. Muscles of an older youth ripple in his arms. Two days back he was eight years old; today he appears around thirteen.
The healing devices, according to my mentor, engender supernatural strength. There are tales of ancient warriors wearing orbs as talismans. Those tales also tell of how, at peak performance, the warriors died in horrible ways. From the inside.
Horin is in danger.
I look away, for I will say nothing of this. We need what the boy can do.
My mentor in Orlean, a city of red stone and blue cobbles nestled at the foot of our northern mountain in the west, told me there are devices able to aid growth. Generally they are used to help a weak child, a newborn regarded as too fragile to survive or an older person losing mobility. Healing, in other words, but he admitted these devices are able to achieve something greater. He also said they are often misused.
As Joseph and Damin continued discussing the situation on the plateau, a futile conversation, truth be told, for as Horin said, it is time to leave all that behind, I study the boy.
The manipulation he employed against the cavalry and the shield flyers – and now uses as a path to speed us along – is also an orb. We have seen him summon the green light, only to hold it as a tangible object. I doubt we can hold it as he does, though. It appears to me, the more he employs the manipulation, the more solid it is to him. He has created something tangible from the processes nestling in his mind.
Horin is more powerful than we comprehend.
And it changes him.
I do not believe he misuses the device, but it may be misusing him. He is at least a head taller than a few days ago and his frame has filled. Muscles of an older youth ripple in his arms. Two days back he was eight years old; today he appears around thirteen.
The healing devices, according to my mentor, engender supernatural strength. There are tales of ancient warriors wearing orbs as talismans. Those tales also tell of how, at peak performance, the warriors died in horrible ways. From the inside.
Horin is in danger.
I look away, for I will say nothing of this. We need what the boy can do.
Notes on Reviews (and the Mage's Tomb)
I recently acquired a 'smart phone'. Why am I telling you this? Because finally I was able to download the Kindle app that allows me to read ebooks comfortably! Until recently, reading ebooks meant sitting in front of my computer, which really numbs the bum, I tell you, and I therefore didn't read as often as I would have liked to, despite having a virtual library of some size. An actual Kindle reader is prohibitively expensive here, unfortunately.
This is why I am posting reviews with greater regularity. I am slowly working my way through books I have been meaning to read for ages and I believe we should post reviews. It helps the authors, and it informs potential readers. Reviews are subjective, of course, and still I believe they have merit.
This weekend I finished The Mage's Tomb (on my list since 2012) and it was amazing. Unfortunately, I see the ebook no longer exists, and the paperback has the kind of price that tells me it is in the system, but no longer available.
Here is the review I prepared:
This is Edwin’s story, a boy with a mysterious past and with strange gifts that sets every inhabitant of the town of Chardwick on edge. Throw in witches and spirits and creatures, a menacing mine, an abandoned Keep on the cliffs and weird traditions, and you have a story you cannot put down!
The Mage’s Tomb possesses brilliant characterisation, real imagination, many clever twists, as well as great writing and plot. Well done to the author! The Mage’s Tomb definitely deserves five stars.
If you do have a copy on your Kindle, I recommend reading it.If you do come across it elsewhere, let me know, and I'll post my review there :)
This is why I am posting reviews with greater regularity. I am slowly working my way through books I have been meaning to read for ages and I believe we should post reviews. It helps the authors, and it informs potential readers. Reviews are subjective, of course, and still I believe they have merit.
This weekend I finished The Mage's Tomb (on my list since 2012) and it was amazing. Unfortunately, I see the ebook no longer exists, and the paperback has the kind of price that tells me it is in the system, but no longer available.
Here is the review I prepared:
This is Edwin’s story, a boy with a mysterious past and with strange gifts that sets every inhabitant of the town of Chardwick on edge. Throw in witches and spirits and creatures, a menacing mine, an abandoned Keep on the cliffs and weird traditions, and you have a story you cannot put down!
The Mage’s Tomb possesses brilliant characterisation, real imagination, many clever twists, as well as great writing and plot. Well done to the author! The Mage’s Tomb definitely deserves five stars.
If you do have a copy on your Kindle, I recommend reading it.If you do come across it elsewhere, let me know, and I'll post my review there :)November 1, 2015
89 000+!
Thank you for visiting!
xxx
xxx
The King's Challenge #93
TKC 93
Joseph walks with us on Horin’s green path, leading his horse. His initial reaction to the magical way was astonishment; now he accepts it as normal. Too many strange events have happened for this to cause him anxiety.
Damin prompts him, and the man starts talking.
“Alarn’s city fathers opened the army bunkers and everyone still in the city, rich to poor, has been allocated a space. Apparently the army is peeved, but they are ruled by civil decree. It’s chaos. Folk head in with everything they own and then are told to throw most of it away. We hear it led to many skirmishes.”
“I did not know there were bunkers,” Damin mutters.
“There are always bunkers,” I say.
Joseph continues. “Normur has them too, but call them the sewers. Unfortunately they are flooded and much tumbled over the cliffs. Not many remain in that city, though.” He smiles at Damin. “Most of them walk with us.”
I notice Horin and Siri listening with attention. Of the bigger world they are somewhat ignorant.
“Some folk still think nothing will happen and therefore refuse to do anything to save themselves,” Joseph adds and shrugs. “We cannot worry about the stubborn, I suppose.”
“We do,” Siri says quietly.
Joseph nods. “But we cannot help them anymore. They have chosen their fate. Many others have fled into the mountains beyond Grenmassin, believing high ground will offer them sanctuary.”
“Too close to the impact site,” Damin says.
“Indeed.” Joseph swiftly moves on. “All lands have been stripped of food, as all farm animals are slaughtered, all hastened to Alarn’s underground. Some may survive there to emerge in the aftermath, but survivors will starve. The food will not last the years needed to replant and harvest.”
Horin halts. He stares at us. “We must let it all go. What is behind is behind.”
I frown at the lad. He appears taller. Older.
Joseph walks with us on Horin’s green path, leading his horse. His initial reaction to the magical way was astonishment; now he accepts it as normal. Too many strange events have happened for this to cause him anxiety.
Damin prompts him, and the man starts talking.
“Alarn’s city fathers opened the army bunkers and everyone still in the city, rich to poor, has been allocated a space. Apparently the army is peeved, but they are ruled by civil decree. It’s chaos. Folk head in with everything they own and then are told to throw most of it away. We hear it led to many skirmishes.”
“I did not know there were bunkers,” Damin mutters.
“There are always bunkers,” I say.
Joseph continues. “Normur has them too, but call them the sewers. Unfortunately they are flooded and much tumbled over the cliffs. Not many remain in that city, though.” He smiles at Damin. “Most of them walk with us.”
I notice Horin and Siri listening with attention. Of the bigger world they are somewhat ignorant.
“Some folk still think nothing will happen and therefore refuse to do anything to save themselves,” Joseph adds and shrugs. “We cannot worry about the stubborn, I suppose.”
“We do,” Siri says quietly.
Joseph nods. “But we cannot help them anymore. They have chosen their fate. Many others have fled into the mountains beyond Grenmassin, believing high ground will offer them sanctuary.”
“Too close to the impact site,” Damin says.
“Indeed.” Joseph swiftly moves on. “All lands have been stripped of food, as all farm animals are slaughtered, all hastened to Alarn’s underground. Some may survive there to emerge in the aftermath, but survivors will starve. The food will not last the years needed to replant and harvest.”
Horin halts. He stares at us. “We must let it all go. What is behind is behind.”
I frown at the lad. He appears taller. Older.
October 31, 2015
The King's Challenge #92
We are now a quarter way through this challenge - how time flies! Here's to hoping you are enjoying this journey with me :)
TKC 92
After the flying shields we are left alone. No one follows. Nothing of a magical nature comes at us. It is us, the great empty plain and the eye in the sky. Even Damin admits it feels as if we have severed all claim to what was, as if we are now abandoned to our fate. I agree; this is loneliness, despite the thousands walking towards the same destination.
Siri claims we are captured in time, walking seemingly nowhere. I desire to investigate her concept of time, but Damin throws me a warning look.
The orb in the heavens is huge. Soon it will be the fireball we hope to escape.
It does seem we walk nowhere. And yet the mountains loom large now. Thanks to Horin’s bridges, we are a day from the mountain pass that will take us into Arc. Given Siri’s analogy, however, the ancient rock appears forever unattainable.
As we prepare to march in the pre-light of dawn, we hear hoof beats. A great thundering approaches from the north. Surely the cavalry is finished? Unless – and I jerk to Damin – only the archers were on the shields. Cavalry is about more than archers.
“Get down!” Damin hollers. “Horin, where are you?”
The lad runs towards us, fingers around his glowing green orb. Everywhere people crouch.
Damin starts laughing.
“What?” I demand. There is nothing amusing about this.
“The Messengers!” Damin crows, punching the air. As Horin skids to a halt beside him, he adds, “It is all right. These are friends.” The boy heaves and nods, relief clear in his expression.
Three hundred men and women adorned with red sashes join us mere minutes later, calling out greeting to the Messengers already with us. Apparently they used the same route Lyra and Hanna had. Leading them is Joseph, an older man. He and Damin pump hands, grinning at each other.
Joseph has much news to share.
TKC 92
After the flying shields we are left alone. No one follows. Nothing of a magical nature comes at us. It is us, the great empty plain and the eye in the sky. Even Damin admits it feels as if we have severed all claim to what was, as if we are now abandoned to our fate. I agree; this is loneliness, despite the thousands walking towards the same destination.
Siri claims we are captured in time, walking seemingly nowhere. I desire to investigate her concept of time, but Damin throws me a warning look.
The orb in the heavens is huge. Soon it will be the fireball we hope to escape.
It does seem we walk nowhere. And yet the mountains loom large now. Thanks to Horin’s bridges, we are a day from the mountain pass that will take us into Arc. Given Siri’s analogy, however, the ancient rock appears forever unattainable.
As we prepare to march in the pre-light of dawn, we hear hoof beats. A great thundering approaches from the north. Surely the cavalry is finished? Unless – and I jerk to Damin – only the archers were on the shields. Cavalry is about more than archers.
“Get down!” Damin hollers. “Horin, where are you?”
The lad runs towards us, fingers around his glowing green orb. Everywhere people crouch.
Damin starts laughing.
“What?” I demand. There is nothing amusing about this.
“The Messengers!” Damin crows, punching the air. As Horin skids to a halt beside him, he adds, “It is all right. These are friends.” The boy heaves and nods, relief clear in his expression.
Three hundred men and women adorned with red sashes join us mere minutes later, calling out greeting to the Messengers already with us. Apparently they used the same route Lyra and Hanna had. Leading them is Joseph, an older man. He and Damin pump hands, grinning at each other.
Joseph has much news to share.
