Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 384
October 20, 2015
The King's Challenge #82
TKC 82
Will an arrow pass through? That is the question. A net, after all, by nature possesses holes. A competent archer should have no difficulty finding the chink in this armour.
Horin and the others have retreated and do not think to look back. Mirlin and I stare in fascination at the approaching arrows; it is as if they travel in slowed motion.
Thunk! Thunk! The projectiles smack into the net and bounce back, skittering away in uncontrolled movements.
As the archers stare in amazement, we grin at each other and turn away. Swiftly we catch up to the others, and I lift Horin to sit on Forest in front of me. The donkey follows, ears twitching.
“Start talking,” I say to him, kneeing our mount to one side as we amble back to the line of people.
He stares ahead. “I didn’t know, not until they started testing for talents in Porlese. They never got to me, but I started seeing and feeling things the closer they came. They had us in batches, and …” He shakes his head.
“How did they test?” I ask.
“A rod. They touched it to the neck or wrist and it changed colour. Every time it changed, I felt something strange. At one time I saw you through snakes.” Horin cranes his neck to look at me.
“Yes. I was aware of you also,” I murmur. “I told Lyra you may have the warrior talent, which you displayed here today.”
Horin stares ahead again. “I felt a shield around me and saw it spread out to guard us. All I needed to do was believe.” He gives a laugh. “It worked. Damin, what talent is yours?”
“Delver,” I say. “It is of the mind.”
“And Lyra?”
I heave a breath. “Lyra may have all the talents.”
“I knew it,” I hear him whisper.
Will an arrow pass through? That is the question. A net, after all, by nature possesses holes. A competent archer should have no difficulty finding the chink in this armour.
Horin and the others have retreated and do not think to look back. Mirlin and I stare in fascination at the approaching arrows; it is as if they travel in slowed motion.
Thunk! Thunk! The projectiles smack into the net and bounce back, skittering away in uncontrolled movements.
As the archers stare in amazement, we grin at each other and turn away. Swiftly we catch up to the others, and I lift Horin to sit on Forest in front of me. The donkey follows, ears twitching.
“Start talking,” I say to him, kneeing our mount to one side as we amble back to the line of people.
He stares ahead. “I didn’t know, not until they started testing for talents in Porlese. They never got to me, but I started seeing and feeling things the closer they came. They had us in batches, and …” He shakes his head.
“How did they test?” I ask.
“A rod. They touched it to the neck or wrist and it changed colour. Every time it changed, I felt something strange. At one time I saw you through snakes.” Horin cranes his neck to look at me.
“Yes. I was aware of you also,” I murmur. “I told Lyra you may have the warrior talent, which you displayed here today.”
Horin stares ahead again. “I felt a shield around me and saw it spread out to guard us. All I needed to do was believe.” He gives a laugh. “It worked. Damin, what talent is yours?”
“Delver,” I say. “It is of the mind.”
“And Lyra?”
I heave a breath. “Lyra may have all the talents.”
“I knew it,” I hear him whisper.
October 19, 2015
The King's Challenge #81
TKC 81
With Horin as our leader on his donkey, we retreat. All of us glance backwards repeatedly to see if the net follows as Horin claims. It does. Never has a more surreal sight been seen. It is pure sorcery; it is also absolute relief.
The cavalry is stumped. Horses swirl in near panic, and men shout at each other. I hear some exhorting others to attempt a breach, while others loudly deny it. They are in quandary.
I bring Forest to a halt and turn back. There are innocents among the soldiers, those who saw no other means to survive but by joining the army. They simply follow orders and are not without compassion and probably suffer guilt over what they have been told to do.
“If anyone desires to join us with open hearts and minds, know you will find welcome among us!”
The centre of activity does not even acknowledge my words, but I note how, at the outer edges, men glance at each other. Some are no doubt aware of what comes from the heavens and seek safety.
“We could use your talents!” I add.
A burly man in his blue breastplate, sporting a bushy black beard, shouts, “Deserters will be shot!” He gestures, and swiftly six men step clear of the chaos, bows at the ready, arrows nocked.
Mirlin joins me. “Let it go, Damin. They must make their choices; we cannot do it for them.”
I nod, but a lump grows in my throat, for I know there are many who wish to join with us. I feel their pain across the divide. I see the knots of fear they live with.
The big man then shifts his arm and points at the net. He chops downward.
The archers turn on the balls of their feet and loose their arrows directly at us.
With Horin as our leader on his donkey, we retreat. All of us glance backwards repeatedly to see if the net follows as Horin claims. It does. Never has a more surreal sight been seen. It is pure sorcery; it is also absolute relief.
The cavalry is stumped. Horses swirl in near panic, and men shout at each other. I hear some exhorting others to attempt a breach, while others loudly deny it. They are in quandary.
I bring Forest to a halt and turn back. There are innocents among the soldiers, those who saw no other means to survive but by joining the army. They simply follow orders and are not without compassion and probably suffer guilt over what they have been told to do.
“If anyone desires to join us with open hearts and minds, know you will find welcome among us!”
The centre of activity does not even acknowledge my words, but I note how, at the outer edges, men glance at each other. Some are no doubt aware of what comes from the heavens and seek safety.
“We could use your talents!” I add.
A burly man in his blue breastplate, sporting a bushy black beard, shouts, “Deserters will be shot!” He gestures, and swiftly six men step clear of the chaos, bows at the ready, arrows nocked.
Mirlin joins me. “Let it go, Damin. They must make their choices; we cannot do it for them.”
I nod, but a lump grows in my throat, for I know there are many who wish to join with us. I feel their pain across the divide. I see the knots of fear they live with.
The big man then shifts his arm and points at the net. He chops downward.
The archers turn on the balls of their feet and loose their arrows directly at us.
October 18, 2015
The King's Challenge #80
TKC 80
Tendrils of emerald creep out from the main glow, and spreads. Swiftly a web of connected green light hovers between us and the approaching cavalry.
My entire body is stiff with tension. I concentrate more on Horin than what he brings forth, for the lad is precious to me, as Lyra is, as Siri is. I see his tension. He is frightened, but is also incredibly focused.
A gossamer net now separates us from the Blues. I realise they have slowed. Many soldiers jerk their mounts to a standstill and eye the net warily.
Then, as if an external force has made a choice, keening fills the air. We grab our ears, as do the milling soldiers beyond. Horses here and there prance, about to bolt.
Silence.
The net is no longer gossamer; it is a solid barrier. Sound has created something tangible from weaves of air and light.
Horin retreats, carefully back stepping his donkey. He does not remove his focus from the net. I wonder if it means he needs to maintain eye contact for it to function. My answer is swift in coming, for Horin nods emphatically, as if satisfied, and turns away. The shield holds.
Someone laughs in derision beyond, and spurs his horse forward, racing at the barrier, sword raised to cut it to shreds. Others shout encouragement, and his feral grin of intent closes in.
I hold my breath, Mirlin does, and so do the Messengers. Horin no longer bothers to watch; he clearly knows what the result will be.
The soldier hurtles into the net … and man and horse scream. I flinch. In the blink of an eye, man and horse vanish.
Horin is alongside. “It will move with us to protect us from behind. We are safe.”
I stare at him, at a loss for words.
Tendrils of emerald creep out from the main glow, and spreads. Swiftly a web of connected green light hovers between us and the approaching cavalry.
My entire body is stiff with tension. I concentrate more on Horin than what he brings forth, for the lad is precious to me, as Lyra is, as Siri is. I see his tension. He is frightened, but is also incredibly focused.
A gossamer net now separates us from the Blues. I realise they have slowed. Many soldiers jerk their mounts to a standstill and eye the net warily.
Then, as if an external force has made a choice, keening fills the air. We grab our ears, as do the milling soldiers beyond. Horses here and there prance, about to bolt.
Silence.
The net is no longer gossamer; it is a solid barrier. Sound has created something tangible from weaves of air and light.
Horin retreats, carefully back stepping his donkey. He does not remove his focus from the net. I wonder if it means he needs to maintain eye contact for it to function. My answer is swift in coming, for Horin nods emphatically, as if satisfied, and turns away. The shield holds.
Someone laughs in derision beyond, and spurs his horse forward, racing at the barrier, sword raised to cut it to shreds. Others shout encouragement, and his feral grin of intent closes in.
I hold my breath, Mirlin does, and so do the Messengers. Horin no longer bothers to watch; he clearly knows what the result will be.
The soldier hurtles into the net … and man and horse scream. I flinch. In the blink of an eye, man and horse vanish.
Horin is alongside. “It will move with us to protect us from behind. We are safe.”
I stare at him, at a loss for words.
October 17, 2015
The King's Challenge #79
TKC 79
People still snake towards the edge of the plateau, too many to safely run. By the speed of the approaching mass, I can tell they have no intention of stopping to parley. The cavalry intends to ride them down.
Mirlin and I push our mounts to haul in the back of the line, there to make a stand. Many laden horses and donkeys are at the end of the immigration; they too will soon know agony.
Hauling our horses around to face what comes, we halt there and draw swords. I know I have no experience fighting on horseback, but even if I did, I will make little difference now to the outcome.
Hoof beats sound behind us. By the stars, have the Blues split their forces to take us on two fronts? But no, the Messengers ride towards us, all with swords drawn. They at least have some fighting experience. Swiftly fifteen of us stand between what goes and what comes.
We will not be enough.
Panic sounds behind us now, but we cannot afford to look. I hope folk flee; I pray they make it.
Clods of mud hurtle into the air as the cavalry races towards us. The ground shakes. The rumble of hoof beats removes all other sound from the region.
We see blue shields and plumes. We see armoured horses. Spears and blades glint in the gloomy light. I wish for a downpour; it may obscure the innocent long enough for them to reach safety.
A donkey nudges between Mirlin and I … with a determined rider upon its back.
“Horin!” I scream as the lad goes boldly forward. Mirlin grips my arm and holds me back as I knee Forest. “Let me go!”
“Wait!” Mirlin hisses.
Horin lifts his right hand, fingers splayed. Bright green light erupts from his palm.
People still snake towards the edge of the plateau, too many to safely run. By the speed of the approaching mass, I can tell they have no intention of stopping to parley. The cavalry intends to ride them down.
Mirlin and I push our mounts to haul in the back of the line, there to make a stand. Many laden horses and donkeys are at the end of the immigration; they too will soon know agony.
Hauling our horses around to face what comes, we halt there and draw swords. I know I have no experience fighting on horseback, but even if I did, I will make little difference now to the outcome.
Hoof beats sound behind us. By the stars, have the Blues split their forces to take us on two fronts? But no, the Messengers ride towards us, all with swords drawn. They at least have some fighting experience. Swiftly fifteen of us stand between what goes and what comes.
We will not be enough.
Panic sounds behind us now, but we cannot afford to look. I hope folk flee; I pray they make it.
Clods of mud hurtle into the air as the cavalry races towards us. The ground shakes. The rumble of hoof beats removes all other sound from the region.
We see blue shields and plumes. We see armoured horses. Spears and blades glint in the gloomy light. I wish for a downpour; it may obscure the innocent long enough for them to reach safety.
A donkey nudges between Mirlin and I … with a determined rider upon its back.
“Horin!” I scream as the lad goes boldly forward. Mirlin grips my arm and holds me back as I knee Forest. “Let me go!”
“Wait!” Mirlin hisses.
Horin lifts his right hand, fingers splayed. Bright green light erupts from his palm.
October 16, 2015
The King's Challenge #78
TKC 78
We are not yet safe. Despite a sense of ease, I am not a dreamer. We are not out of danger.
The asteroid, according to prediction and science, is but ten days from impact with Massin. When we see the flames surrounding it as it enters atmosphere, only hours will remain. The unwieldy line of people snaking towards the edge of the plateau and then down have elderly among them, many weak and ill, children too young to understand haste or with the ability to employ it, and many weary souls carry weight upon their backs. All of this will slow the march.
Last night Mirlin told me we need fourteen days to cross the plains. We have eight, for we need two days to negotiate the pass into Arc. I foresee the front runners abandoning everyone when flames wreath the skies.
I pray for a miracle.
And now a more immediate threat is upon us, and it comes not from the heavens.
Thunder reverberates to the north and east, and tremors shudder the earth. I feel them in the fort’s ancient foundations. This is not weather, I immediately recognise.
Cavalry.
A host on horseback gallops our way. Do they seek to join with us, aid us to haste and safety … or are these the masters who refuse to release us, whether enslaved or free, to a new future?
Mirlin hurtles into the courtyard below, shouting and already turning the horse he is on. “The Blues from Alarn, Damin! Get to your horse!”
Ice fills my veins. Massin’s main force approaches. These are hardened soldiers, without compassion and reason. They follow orders, whatever those orders are. The masters of Porlese must have summoned them.
I race down and jump onto Forest.
We cannot run. We cannot fight them either. We are doomed.
We are not yet safe. Despite a sense of ease, I am not a dreamer. We are not out of danger.
The asteroid, according to prediction and science, is but ten days from impact with Massin. When we see the flames surrounding it as it enters atmosphere, only hours will remain. The unwieldy line of people snaking towards the edge of the plateau and then down have elderly among them, many weak and ill, children too young to understand haste or with the ability to employ it, and many weary souls carry weight upon their backs. All of this will slow the march.
Last night Mirlin told me we need fourteen days to cross the plains. We have eight, for we need two days to negotiate the pass into Arc. I foresee the front runners abandoning everyone when flames wreath the skies.
I pray for a miracle.
And now a more immediate threat is upon us, and it comes not from the heavens.
Thunder reverberates to the north and east, and tremors shudder the earth. I feel them in the fort’s ancient foundations. This is not weather, I immediately recognise.
Cavalry.
A host on horseback gallops our way. Do they seek to join with us, aid us to haste and safety … or are these the masters who refuse to release us, whether enslaved or free, to a new future?
Mirlin hurtles into the courtyard below, shouting and already turning the horse he is on. “The Blues from Alarn, Damin! Get to your horse!”
Ice fills my veins. Massin’s main force approaches. These are hardened soldiers, without compassion and reason. They follow orders, whatever those orders are. The masters of Porlese must have summoned them.
I race down and jump onto Forest.
We cannot run. We cannot fight them either. We are doomed.
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October 15, 2015
The King's Challenge #77
TKC 77
Beyond the fort the plateau dips towards the plain. A narrow pass allows for access to the lower regions; this we will now use, although it will take time to move so many people.
During the night we apportioned the supplies. Everyone will carry something. Artur has put himself in charge of stores, where everything is and who carries what, and I leave him to it. My burden of logistics is thus less. Heftier items are loaded onto the donkeys. Most are tools, I note.
Attis is my unsung hero, for he takes the young under his wing, those with no elders to take care of them. With Horin, he keeps them smiling, and another burden lifts.
I notice Alyssa and Emily gathering their kind together. It is not about keeping apart, I realise, but about gifting them the means to go forward with less soul searching. The nobility are out of their depth here.
The Messengers, obvious by their red sashes, organise the horses. They will be led down and then those struggling along the march will take turns on them. I trust the Messengers with our mounts more than I do the nobility, and thus leave it to them.
Mirlin is at the head of the pass, showing the way down, while I remain as rearguard until the last have left.
Standing on the battlements, I watch the line as it snakes to the edge and vanishes into the defile. There is much talk among the walkers; there is also much silence. Both the serene blue flower and the coiling snakes hover above them as they amble away, heading to a different future. I close my eyes to banish the images … and see Lyra laughing in a field of wildflowers.
Smiling, I reopen my eyes. Lyra is safe. We will be too.
Beyond the fort the plateau dips towards the plain. A narrow pass allows for access to the lower regions; this we will now use, although it will take time to move so many people.
During the night we apportioned the supplies. Everyone will carry something. Artur has put himself in charge of stores, where everything is and who carries what, and I leave him to it. My burden of logistics is thus less. Heftier items are loaded onto the donkeys. Most are tools, I note.
Attis is my unsung hero, for he takes the young under his wing, those with no elders to take care of them. With Horin, he keeps them smiling, and another burden lifts.
I notice Alyssa and Emily gathering their kind together. It is not about keeping apart, I realise, but about gifting them the means to go forward with less soul searching. The nobility are out of their depth here.
The Messengers, obvious by their red sashes, organise the horses. They will be led down and then those struggling along the march will take turns on them. I trust the Messengers with our mounts more than I do the nobility, and thus leave it to them.
Mirlin is at the head of the pass, showing the way down, while I remain as rearguard until the last have left.
Standing on the battlements, I watch the line as it snakes to the edge and vanishes into the defile. There is much talk among the walkers; there is also much silence. Both the serene blue flower and the coiling snakes hover above them as they amble away, heading to a different future. I close my eyes to banish the images … and see Lyra laughing in a field of wildflowers.
Smiling, I reopen my eyes. Lyra is safe. We will be too.
