Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 382
October 30, 2015
The King's Challenge #91
TKC 91
Someone starts clapping, the sound loud in the silence. Horin lifts his head and I notice how unfocused his eyes are. Another joins in, and then another, and soon applause fills the air around us. Horin swallows and smiles, although it is an uncertain action.
Whistles join the acclaim and someone shouts “Thank you, Horin!”
Yes, a terrible coercion came to pass, but it means we are alive. Five minutes ago we all thought we would die.
I lift my hands to join in with the applause.
Damin places his hands on the lad’s shoulders, squeezes, and leans in to whisper in his ear. What he says I do not know, but Horin nods and bows. He then throws his hand out to release the green orb, and the path of light falls between us, beckoning us onward to our destination.
“Gather the shields and weapons,” I call out, “and start walking!”
The acclaim dies and most spring into the action.
“We will see to the wounded!” Damin adds.
How? We have no means to heal. Ah, I see. The girl, Siri, is a Healer. She falls to her knees beside a man with two shafts protruding from his chest. She touches them and they disintegrate. She lays her hand on the man’s chest, and moments later moves to the next victim. The man sits up, healed, staring at her.
Damin moves to my side. “She is an actual Healer. Lyra’s power is used on a grand scale, while Siri is hands-on. She is about individual succour.” He watches me with a slight frown.
“Has she done this before?”
Damin nods. “In Grenmassin, but only with animals, she tells me. She thought it a facet of compassion, but now realises it is an actual talent.”
“One we desperately need,” I murmur.
“Indeed.” Damin smiles, and gestures Horin nearer.
Someone starts clapping, the sound loud in the silence. Horin lifts his head and I notice how unfocused his eyes are. Another joins in, and then another, and soon applause fills the air around us. Horin swallows and smiles, although it is an uncertain action.
Whistles join the acclaim and someone shouts “Thank you, Horin!”
Yes, a terrible coercion came to pass, but it means we are alive. Five minutes ago we all thought we would die.
I lift my hands to join in with the applause.
Damin places his hands on the lad’s shoulders, squeezes, and leans in to whisper in his ear. What he says I do not know, but Horin nods and bows. He then throws his hand out to release the green orb, and the path of light falls between us, beckoning us onward to our destination.
“Gather the shields and weapons,” I call out, “and start walking!”
The acclaim dies and most spring into the action.
“We will see to the wounded!” Damin adds.
How? We have no means to heal. Ah, I see. The girl, Siri, is a Healer. She falls to her knees beside a man with two shafts protruding from his chest. She touches them and they disintegrate. She lays her hand on the man’s chest, and moments later moves to the next victim. The man sits up, healed, staring at her.
Damin moves to my side. “She is an actual Healer. Lyra’s power is used on a grand scale, while Siri is hands-on. She is about individual succour.” He watches me with a slight frown.
“Has she done this before?”
Damin nods. “In Grenmassin, but only with animals, she tells me. She thought it a facet of compassion, but now realises it is an actual talent.”
“One we desperately need,” I murmur.
“Indeed.” Damin smiles, and gestures Horin nearer.
October 29, 2015
The King's Challenge #90
TKC 90
Red tendrils, reminding me of blood, weave into the pulsating green substance, forming a lattice within the fluidity.
Abruptly Horin clenches his hand into a fist. We flinch as sound and movement resumes in a heartbeat.
It is chaos. People run and stumble, scream and groan. Arrows caught in mid-flight smack down. Donkeys bray and horses neigh. Shields in the sky buckle a bit before righting for the next pass.
I see terror in many eyes. The men on those shields stare at the rising substance, and they are afraid.
On the ground, silence falls as we gaze up. Even the animals are quiet.
Arrows are nocked and loosed ever faster, but now they do not find ground; the spreading green and red ‘net’ absorbs every impact. It lifts ever higher and stretches wider and further, becoming almost transparent, it is that thin. It is now a veil between us and the archers on their flying shields.
My heart threatens to escape its cage in my chest. Peripherally, for the spectacle overhead has all my attention, I notice Horin punch the air.
The miasma explodes.
The sonic boom accompanying it fells us. We stumble to our knees, but still we stare up.
Small pellets of sorcery target the archers. Those tiny missiles smack into flesh with popping, wet sounds that serves to empty a few stomachs here on the ground.
I expect the men to explode also, by the sands, but instead they become as nothing in an instant. One moment a man perches atop a shield, the next he is ether. His shield hurtles to earth, and his bow and arrow pouch joins the headlong tumble.
Within two minutes the sky is cleared. The ground is littered with shields, bows and arrows.
Horin opens his hand. The miasma forms anew and then contracts swiftly until a green orb rushes to him, and smacks into his palm. His fingers enclose it and he stares at it in horror.
Red tendrils, reminding me of blood, weave into the pulsating green substance, forming a lattice within the fluidity.
Abruptly Horin clenches his hand into a fist. We flinch as sound and movement resumes in a heartbeat.
It is chaos. People run and stumble, scream and groan. Arrows caught in mid-flight smack down. Donkeys bray and horses neigh. Shields in the sky buckle a bit before righting for the next pass.
I see terror in many eyes. The men on those shields stare at the rising substance, and they are afraid.
On the ground, silence falls as we gaze up. Even the animals are quiet.
Arrows are nocked and loosed ever faster, but now they do not find ground; the spreading green and red ‘net’ absorbs every impact. It lifts ever higher and stretches wider and further, becoming almost transparent, it is that thin. It is now a veil between us and the archers on their flying shields.
My heart threatens to escape its cage in my chest. Peripherally, for the spectacle overhead has all my attention, I notice Horin punch the air.
The miasma explodes.
The sonic boom accompanying it fells us. We stumble to our knees, but still we stare up.
Small pellets of sorcery target the archers. Those tiny missiles smack into flesh with popping, wet sounds that serves to empty a few stomachs here on the ground.
I expect the men to explode also, by the sands, but instead they become as nothing in an instant. One moment a man perches atop a shield, the next he is ether. His shield hurtles to earth, and his bow and arrow pouch joins the headlong tumble.
Within two minutes the sky is cleared. The ground is littered with shields, bows and arrows.
Horin opens his hand. The miasma forms anew and then contracts swiftly until a green orb rushes to him, and smacks into his palm. His fingers enclose it and he stares at it in horror.
October 28, 2015
The King's Challenge #89
TKC 89
“Off the path!” Damin shouts.
Not everyone hears, but somehow all understand Horin needs the substance we walk upon. Everyone jumps into the scrub, hauling animals with them. It is a mess of limbs and groans, but happens fast.
Arrows thud to earth. Some find flesh. Groans become screams.
Damin and I form a buffer over Horin after Damin tells him to kneel. I feel a thousand arrows smacking into my exposed back; no doubt Damin feels the same. Siri crouches between Forest’s legs beside us. She is praying.
“Quickly, Horin,” Damin murmurs.
The rain of barbs intensifies and the shields overhead now blot the sun. A twilight of death.
“Horin,” I urge also.
The lad shakes head to toe. Fear has him. He swallows convulsively, eyes flitting in every direction.
“Concentrate on what you must do,” Damin says. “We deal with pain after, all right?”
“Do it,” Siri adds.
Horin stares at her for a moment, and then nods. He lifts his hand and, thank the sands, the ‘bridge’ lifts and begins to alter both substance and shape. It becomes fluid, as heavy water.
Everything freezes in the next moment. Arrows jerk to a stop in the air. Shields halt in mid-flight and -turn. People are paralysed in various poses. The green barrier does not move.
Horin gazes at Damin. It appears only the four of us are able to move now. “The only way to end it, Damin, is by killing all of them.”
Those words explain the freeze. Horin seeks permission to do what he must … or hopes for absolution before the act. Siri is pale, but remains silent, her gaze going to her brother also.
Damin closes his eyes. “It is us or them, Horin. This is defence, not cold murder.”
Horin nods … and his fingers open to bleed tendrils of red light.
“Off the path!” Damin shouts.
Not everyone hears, but somehow all understand Horin needs the substance we walk upon. Everyone jumps into the scrub, hauling animals with them. It is a mess of limbs and groans, but happens fast.
Arrows thud to earth. Some find flesh. Groans become screams.
Damin and I form a buffer over Horin after Damin tells him to kneel. I feel a thousand arrows smacking into my exposed back; no doubt Damin feels the same. Siri crouches between Forest’s legs beside us. She is praying.
“Quickly, Horin,” Damin murmurs.
The rain of barbs intensifies and the shields overhead now blot the sun. A twilight of death.
“Horin,” I urge also.
The lad shakes head to toe. Fear has him. He swallows convulsively, eyes flitting in every direction.
“Concentrate on what you must do,” Damin says. “We deal with pain after, all right?”
“Do it,” Siri adds.
Horin stares at her for a moment, and then nods. He lifts his hand and, thank the sands, the ‘bridge’ lifts and begins to alter both substance and shape. It becomes fluid, as heavy water.
Everything freezes in the next moment. Arrows jerk to a stop in the air. Shields halt in mid-flight and -turn. People are paralysed in various poses. The green barrier does not move.
Horin gazes at Damin. It appears only the four of us are able to move now. “The only way to end it, Damin, is by killing all of them.”
Those words explain the freeze. Horin seeks permission to do what he must … or hopes for absolution before the act. Siri is pale, but remains silent, her gaze going to her brother also.
Damin closes his eyes. “It is us or them, Horin. This is defence, not cold murder.”
Horin nods … and his fingers open to bleed tendrils of red light.
The Favourites' Feeling
A few favourite movies and their soundtracks :)
October 27, 2015
The King's Challenge #88
TKC 88
On the third day of following Horin’s bridges, it changes for us.
The plateau dwellers have needed to fight the authorities to leave their cities and towns, they have escaped slave masters, run from raiders, coped in extreme weather conditions, and have even had cavalry chasing them. All this happened while they were filled with both fear and hope.
They have also seen and lived sorcery now. The latter has saved them numerous times.
I, Mirlin, grew up accepting the talents as a natural condition, but even in the west it was not common place. I too needed to fight the authorities to leave and walked across the great plains in the hottest dry season in living memory. It nearly killed me.
Thus we know hardship and we expect the unexpected now, but we overlooked something.
The authorities tested for the talents and did so long before Damin sprung the Porlese trap. It means, if we are logical about it, they now have certain talents as theirs to command. Those caught before this march began are not with us, are they?
It does not occur to me to factor that situation in until everything changes, and then it is too late.
We are on Horin’s second bridge of the day when we hear it. The drone of insects, many insects. At first I think of a swarm of bees, perhaps even locusts, but there is nothing to be seen.
In consternation, I halt. The girl’s face drains me of all hope. I see Siri jerk her head upward and I see her lose all colour. Her jaw hangs slack and she cannot move.
With shivers of dread coursing through me, I too look up.
Shields. Blue war shields. In the air, flying, on swift approach, and atop each perches a man, bow raised, face manic.
The first arrows fly.
On the third day of following Horin’s bridges, it changes for us.
The plateau dwellers have needed to fight the authorities to leave their cities and towns, they have escaped slave masters, run from raiders, coped in extreme weather conditions, and have even had cavalry chasing them. All this happened while they were filled with both fear and hope.
They have also seen and lived sorcery now. The latter has saved them numerous times.
I, Mirlin, grew up accepting the talents as a natural condition, but even in the west it was not common place. I too needed to fight the authorities to leave and walked across the great plains in the hottest dry season in living memory. It nearly killed me.
Thus we know hardship and we expect the unexpected now, but we overlooked something.
The authorities tested for the talents and did so long before Damin sprung the Porlese trap. It means, if we are logical about it, they now have certain talents as theirs to command. Those caught before this march began are not with us, are they?
It does not occur to me to factor that situation in until everything changes, and then it is too late.
We are on Horin’s second bridge of the day when we hear it. The drone of insects, many insects. At first I think of a swarm of bees, perhaps even locusts, but there is nothing to be seen.
In consternation, I halt. The girl’s face drains me of all hope. I see Siri jerk her head upward and I see her lose all colour. Her jaw hangs slack and she cannot move.
With shivers of dread coursing through me, I too look up.
Shields. Blue war shields. In the air, flying, on swift approach, and atop each perches a man, bow raised, face manic.
The first arrows fly.
Why are we doing this?
“Why are we doing this?”“The short answer?”“Give me the complicated one,” Torrullin sighed.“We are here for different reasons,” Elianas said in an even tone. “We say it is to right a wrong, for the echoes to spread out, for your heirs to find peace in a wholesome universe, but it is mere excuse. We would like to be charitable and altruistic, the benefactors of time, and it is indeed a noble goal and, of course, Grinwallin is a threat, one we hope to contain. Still, it is excuse. Grinwallin unleashed means change, catastrophic change, and yet change will always have merit. Grinwallin unleashed will bring on a new era, difference to the long future ahead, but would it be bad? Sentience is good at survival, evolution and adaptability; life would go on. Such change could herald a new order of togetherness, as righting an ancient wrong would.”“Gods,” Torrullin muttered.“Exactly. Let us step aside from the great goals here and speak of the truth of each individual. Weare the reason we do this; us, our souls, hearts, minds and the rest of it. Sentience is selfish, and no one in this realm right now has ever risen above selfishness.”
“True.”
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October 26, 2015
The King's Challenge #87
TKC 87
Horin’s arm glows green and then he points.
We all gaze in astonishment when the net lifts in silence, flies overhead and settles in a curve over the expanse of water. The moment it touches, it solidifies. It is no longer a net.
Horin walks over as if the bridge has always been there.
Swiftly Damin and I exhort the others to follow. The crossing is achieved in minutes, rather than the hours one expects when the line is as long as this one. The instant a foot touches the bridge, the man, woman, child or animal appears on the other side, magically sped across.
The lad then points again, and the bridge lifts, swirls, and settles upon the land, dead straight upon rock and scrub. It points directly to the mountains of Arc. Blinking, I gesture, and again we cross in minutes. We gather in miles instead of mere yards.
He does it twice more before Damin commands him to stop. We all see the weariness in the boy’s every muscle and gesture. Accepting no argument, Damin lifts Horin onto that horse of his, and says we will now walk.
We march on the usual way, for it is not even midday yet. Looking back, I realise how far we have travelled in only hours. The plateau is now the smudge, while the mountains ahead have taken on some definition.
“We will make the deadline,” I murmur to Damin, joining him in the rear of the column. I notice the net is again behind us, but it is now a sliver of what it was. I frown. “How is this a warrior talent?”
Horin lifts his weary head from Forest’s mane. “It’s a shield. It protects from the rough ground.”
Siri walks on the other side. “It also protects us from time,” she adds.
Horin’s arm glows green and then he points.
We all gaze in astonishment when the net lifts in silence, flies overhead and settles in a curve over the expanse of water. The moment it touches, it solidifies. It is no longer a net.
Horin walks over as if the bridge has always been there.
Swiftly Damin and I exhort the others to follow. The crossing is achieved in minutes, rather than the hours one expects when the line is as long as this one. The instant a foot touches the bridge, the man, woman, child or animal appears on the other side, magically sped across.
The lad then points again, and the bridge lifts, swirls, and settles upon the land, dead straight upon rock and scrub. It points directly to the mountains of Arc. Blinking, I gesture, and again we cross in minutes. We gather in miles instead of mere yards.
He does it twice more before Damin commands him to stop. We all see the weariness in the boy’s every muscle and gesture. Accepting no argument, Damin lifts Horin onto that horse of his, and says we will now walk.
We march on the usual way, for it is not even midday yet. Looking back, I realise how far we have travelled in only hours. The plateau is now the smudge, while the mountains ahead have taken on some definition.
“We will make the deadline,” I murmur to Damin, joining him in the rear of the column. I notice the net is again behind us, but it is now a sliver of what it was. I frown. “How is this a warrior talent?”
Horin lifts his weary head from Forest’s mane. “It’s a shield. It protects from the rough ground.”
Siri walks on the other side. “It also protects us from time,” she adds.
