Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 387
October 5, 2015
The King's Challenge #67
TKC 67
By nightfall I have a room in a hovel. Despite the conditions, it suits me, for it is a mere block from the slave pen.
After hearing as much as I could from the old man, I told him to walk out this same night. This is twofold strategy. First, they need to go south and, second, they will serve as a distraction.
Around the tolling of the midnight bell, I hear the first shouts of alarm. I am ready. Giving myself a grin in the filthy mirror, I move out. They do not call me the Marsh Devil for nothing.
Panic has hit the streets. A press of people young and old move in concerted direction. All are headed to the southern gates. Hoof beats begin to pound the cobbles further along, and then the first screams sound.
I am forced to ignore that terror for the other in the pen. Flitting shadow to shadow, I eventually crouch behind the water trough Forest drank from in the morning.
There are no guards in the street. Clearly they have been deployed to the situation elsewhere. I sidle closer to the gates. They too are unattended. Swiftly ducking my head around, I noticed only two keep the watch over the inner gates. Beyond them is a mass of people. Never have I known so many to be so quiet.
Back in Grenmassin us boys used the cricket sound at night to determine sense of place. If Horin is in there, he will know. A cricket thus starts to ‘sing’, a low tone, as if hidden in masonry. I listen intently. Nothing. Again the cricket chirps, as if moving closer. I listen again.
And then one answers. Then two. Four. Six.
My hair stands on end. The Grenmassin men and boys know someone comes.
By nightfall I have a room in a hovel. Despite the conditions, it suits me, for it is a mere block from the slave pen.
After hearing as much as I could from the old man, I told him to walk out this same night. This is twofold strategy. First, they need to go south and, second, they will serve as a distraction.
Around the tolling of the midnight bell, I hear the first shouts of alarm. I am ready. Giving myself a grin in the filthy mirror, I move out. They do not call me the Marsh Devil for nothing.
Panic has hit the streets. A press of people young and old move in concerted direction. All are headed to the southern gates. Hoof beats begin to pound the cobbles further along, and then the first screams sound.
I am forced to ignore that terror for the other in the pen. Flitting shadow to shadow, I eventually crouch behind the water trough Forest drank from in the morning.
There are no guards in the street. Clearly they have been deployed to the situation elsewhere. I sidle closer to the gates. They too are unattended. Swiftly ducking my head around, I noticed only two keep the watch over the inner gates. Beyond them is a mass of people. Never have I known so many to be so quiet.
Back in Grenmassin us boys used the cricket sound at night to determine sense of place. If Horin is in there, he will know. A cricket thus starts to ‘sing’, a low tone, as if hidden in masonry. I listen intently. Nothing. Again the cricket chirps, as if moving closer. I listen again.
And then one answers. Then two. Four. Six.
My hair stands on end. The Grenmassin men and boys know someone comes.
October 4, 2015
The King's Challenge #66
TKC 66
Forest slurps water as if it is nectar. I allow him take his time, using it to look around. The guards watch, but do not interfere.
Further along is a recess between buildings, with gates. Following the rooftop line, the entrance leads to the area behind the red edifice.
“Enough!” a guards snarls. “Get moving!”
I coax Forest aside and clamber on. Flicking the reins, I move forward. “Turn, you stupid horse,” I mutter for the benefit of the guards, while nudging him onward.
“Hey!”
“I’m going!” I call out. “Trying to turn him, is all!” At the gates I ‘manage’ to gain control of him, turning him there. “Sorry!” I wave as we canter back into the city. I do not look back.
In a broader street, I rein him to a walk. The gates are huge iron bars, and beyond is a guard house. Six hurtled out when they heard Forest, swords brandished. Beyond them lay another set of gates. The impression I received was of ceaseless movement there.
Gritting my teeth to still fury, I examine the impression for details. The twisting coils of red and black snakes begin to roil in my sight. Fear. There is much fear beyond those gates. The movement was a sea of humanity.
Bringing Forest to a halt, I gaze unseeing into the distance. Why have they raided for so many slaves? Even if they give the bare minimum, still the food required to keep them alive will cripple Porlese.
This is about more than needing hands to erect shelters against doom from above.
The old man is at my stirrup. “They search for talents,” he says. “All are tested. They keep anyone they find, but the rest is thrown from the cliffs.”
My guts hollows.
“Tonight is the next cull,” the old whispers.
Forest slurps water as if it is nectar. I allow him take his time, using it to look around. The guards watch, but do not interfere.
Further along is a recess between buildings, with gates. Following the rooftop line, the entrance leads to the area behind the red edifice.
“Enough!” a guards snarls. “Get moving!”
I coax Forest aside and clamber on. Flicking the reins, I move forward. “Turn, you stupid horse,” I mutter for the benefit of the guards, while nudging him onward.
“Hey!”
“I’m going!” I call out. “Trying to turn him, is all!” At the gates I ‘manage’ to gain control of him, turning him there. “Sorry!” I wave as we canter back into the city. I do not look back.
In a broader street, I rein him to a walk. The gates are huge iron bars, and beyond is a guard house. Six hurtled out when they heard Forest, swords brandished. Beyond them lay another set of gates. The impression I received was of ceaseless movement there.
Gritting my teeth to still fury, I examine the impression for details. The twisting coils of red and black snakes begin to roil in my sight. Fear. There is much fear beyond those gates. The movement was a sea of humanity.
Bringing Forest to a halt, I gaze unseeing into the distance. Why have they raided for so many slaves? Even if they give the bare minimum, still the food required to keep them alive will cripple Porlese.
This is about more than needing hands to erect shelters against doom from above.
The old man is at my stirrup. “They search for talents,” he says. “All are tested. They keep anyone they find, but the rest is thrown from the cliffs.”
My guts hollows.
“Tonight is the next cull,” the old whispers.
October 3, 2015
The King's Challenge #65
TKC 65
The old man scraping the wall heard my question, for he beckons me closer, eyes darting. Casually I saunter closer.
“The slave pens, master?” His brow wrinkles.
“My family,” I say.
His brow clears. “Ah. It isn’t easy to break someone out …” He squints at me. “But you will try anyway, I see. That way. Look behind the red building.” He points in a direction at an angle to the one the boy vanished into.
I gaze at him. “”Do you know of the fort to the south?”
Blinking, he nods.
“Hard as this will be, gather your friends and go there. Walk out of Porlese tonight even if they try and stop you, and keep going until you reach it. If the gathered already there have started the march to safety, follow the tracks.”
The old man points upward questioningly.
I sigh. “Yes, it comes.” I clasp his shoulder and turn away.
“Thank you,” he calls after me.
He will not thank me when the authorities attempt to stop them. Many will be beaten; some will lose their lives. I wave over my shoulder, for there is nothing to add to what I already said.
The red building is obvious. It is six levels of intimidation, with Porlese Tradingemblazoned across the upper storey. Trading in slaves, no doubt. Leading Forest, I walk slowly nearer. There are guards, I notice, at the imposing doors. Going down a side street, I see more big men in obtrusive positions. The slavers take no chances here.
“Hey! Move along! What you want here?” one bellows.
“Looking for an inn,” I call back. “Just into the city.”
“Not this way, mister. Turn around.”
“Is there water for my horse?” I ask.
Rolling his eyes, the man points at a nearby trough. “Drink, then go.”
The old man scraping the wall heard my question, for he beckons me closer, eyes darting. Casually I saunter closer.
“The slave pens, master?” His brow wrinkles.
“My family,” I say.
His brow clears. “Ah. It isn’t easy to break someone out …” He squints at me. “But you will try anyway, I see. That way. Look behind the red building.” He points in a direction at an angle to the one the boy vanished into.
I gaze at him. “”Do you know of the fort to the south?”
Blinking, he nods.
“Hard as this will be, gather your friends and go there. Walk out of Porlese tonight even if they try and stop you, and keep going until you reach it. If the gathered already there have started the march to safety, follow the tracks.”
The old man points upward questioningly.
I sigh. “Yes, it comes.” I clasp his shoulder and turn away.
“Thank you,” he calls after me.
He will not thank me when the authorities attempt to stop them. Many will be beaten; some will lose their lives. I wave over my shoulder, for there is nothing to add to what I already said.
The red building is obvious. It is six levels of intimidation, with Porlese Tradingemblazoned across the upper storey. Trading in slaves, no doubt. Leading Forest, I walk slowly nearer. There are guards, I notice, at the imposing doors. Going down a side street, I see more big men in obtrusive positions. The slavers take no chances here.
“Hey! Move along! What you want here?” one bellows.
“Looking for an inn,” I call back. “Just into the city.”
“Not this way, mister. Turn around.”
“Is there water for my horse?” I ask.
Rolling his eyes, the man points at a nearby trough. “Drink, then go.”
October 2, 2015
The King's Challenge #64
TKC 64
Dawn is near when I enter under Porlese’s main arch. Despite the early hour and grey light, the cobbled streets teem with people. Slaves, I realise. Men and women about chores others do not want to be bothered with.
They are marked with a black circle, and it sits upon their chins. It is a horrid disfigurement, and most are not aligned to the soft pad; some are haphazardly placed to appear as a giant mole. Some are so far from round, they appear as scars. By the stars, I pray Horin, Siri and the others have not received the mark.
There are children on the streets too. Some are slaves; most are urchins seeking coin by running errands.
Everyone is too thin. Despite the claims of riches in Porlese, where even the beggars do well, it seems such mind-set does not extend to the slave population.
I desire to throttle someone.
As my horse clip-clops through the busy streets amid tall, painted buildings – I have named him Forest – few look up. Clearly someone on a horse is to be feared here. I stop to dismount, leading Forest on, hoping to make eye contact.
No one looks at me.
I am about to approach an older man scraping mildew from a wall, when a lad runs up.
“Mister, a coin for a loaf?”
I have little by way of coin, though Lyra shared what she had left from Siri. “Tell you what,” I say. “Take me to where we may both buy a loaf. Tell me something I need to know and I’ll get you one.”
The urchin nods. This one is hungry. “What you need?”
“Where do they keep the new crop of slaves?”
He stares at me with too wise eyes. “Are you mad, mister? Keep your loaf!” He runs away.
Dawn is near when I enter under Porlese’s main arch. Despite the early hour and grey light, the cobbled streets teem with people. Slaves, I realise. Men and women about chores others do not want to be bothered with.
They are marked with a black circle, and it sits upon their chins. It is a horrid disfigurement, and most are not aligned to the soft pad; some are haphazardly placed to appear as a giant mole. Some are so far from round, they appear as scars. By the stars, I pray Horin, Siri and the others have not received the mark.
There are children on the streets too. Some are slaves; most are urchins seeking coin by running errands.
Everyone is too thin. Despite the claims of riches in Porlese, where even the beggars do well, it seems such mind-set does not extend to the slave population.
I desire to throttle someone.
As my horse clip-clops through the busy streets amid tall, painted buildings – I have named him Forest – few look up. Clearly someone on a horse is to be feared here. I stop to dismount, leading Forest on, hoping to make eye contact.
No one looks at me.
I am about to approach an older man scraping mildew from a wall, when a lad runs up.
“Mister, a coin for a loaf?”
I have little by way of coin, though Lyra shared what she had left from Siri. “Tell you what,” I say. “Take me to where we may both buy a loaf. Tell me something I need to know and I’ll get you one.”
The urchin nods. This one is hungry. “What you need?”
“Where do they keep the new crop of slaves?”
He stares at me with too wise eyes. “Are you mad, mister? Keep your loaf!” He runs away.
October 1, 2015
The King's Challenge #63
TKC 63
Part 2DAMIN
Anger keeps me warm as I negotiate the rough road to Porlese. While I understand Lyra will be more effective if she reaches Arc quickly, fact is, her leaving feels akin to abandonment.
Now I understand how she felt when I left her behind in Grenmassin five years ago.
As night falls on my second day alone, I see the lights of Porlese in the distance. Excellent. Action there will stifle this sense of helplessness.
Horin’s voice in my mind will not be silent. The boy continuously screams for help. I call it screaming, but it is more desperation I sense in the connection.
Frowning, I stare into my fire. The night is filled with sounds, but Horin pushes those noises into the background. I attempt to garner location from him, a starting point for my search when I enter the city tomorrow. How is he doing this?
Then, so strong, I nearly fall face first into the flames, an image of a bright yellow rope flicks into my mind. It has intent, as if it seeks to flay me until I am a gibbering wreck. Gasping, I rear back and clutch at myself to check my flesh remains intact.
Darkness settles around me then, in the environment and in my mind. Never have I been this relieved to know the blanket of night in every way.
A hangman’s rope. A whip of manipulation. Yellow is for confusion … and terror.
This is the first time I have seen this image, but the message is clear. Horin is in trouble. Siri is therefore in trouble also. The boy’s youth has opened his mind to the spaces where Delvers operate; this is why I hear him and see his emotions.
Swearing, I douse my fire and take to the road in darkness. They cannot wait longer.
Part 2DAMIN
Anger keeps me warm as I negotiate the rough road to Porlese. While I understand Lyra will be more effective if she reaches Arc quickly, fact is, her leaving feels akin to abandonment.
Now I understand how she felt when I left her behind in Grenmassin five years ago.
As night falls on my second day alone, I see the lights of Porlese in the distance. Excellent. Action there will stifle this sense of helplessness.
Horin’s voice in my mind will not be silent. The boy continuously screams for help. I call it screaming, but it is more desperation I sense in the connection.
Frowning, I stare into my fire. The night is filled with sounds, but Horin pushes those noises into the background. I attempt to garner location from him, a starting point for my search when I enter the city tomorrow. How is he doing this?
Then, so strong, I nearly fall face first into the flames, an image of a bright yellow rope flicks into my mind. It has intent, as if it seeks to flay me until I am a gibbering wreck. Gasping, I rear back and clutch at myself to check my flesh remains intact.
Darkness settles around me then, in the environment and in my mind. Never have I been this relieved to know the blanket of night in every way.
A hangman’s rope. A whip of manipulation. Yellow is for confusion … and terror.
This is the first time I have seen this image, but the message is clear. Horin is in trouble. Siri is therefore in trouble also. The boy’s youth has opened his mind to the spaces where Delvers operate; this is why I hear him and see his emotions.
Swearing, I douse my fire and take to the road in darkness. They cannot wait longer.
2015 and 3/4 :)
With the three quarters of the year behind us, this is what happened for this writer in 2015 :)
Republished ebooks after Thorstruck Press closed, now with Tirgearr Publishing (3)
The Tinsal DeckLatticeworksA Tear in the Clouds
Republished ebooks and paperbacks (2)
The Kallanon ScalesThe Nemisin Star
Paperbacks published for the first time (4)
The Infinity MantleThe Kinfire TreeThe Drowned ThroneThe Dragon Circle
New books (ebooks and paperback) (2)
The Sleeper SwordThe Dreamer Stones
New ebooks (8)
FingerNale TalesAncient IlluminatiomSecret RemediesRealm WalkerLore of Arcana OmnibusLore of Reaume OmnibusTown ThomasThe Nemesis Blade
Updated (1)
Our Friend Thomas Henson
Coming still in 2015 (4)
The Nemesis Blade (Paperback)Justine's JournalTravelling ThomasThe Echolone Mine
Foreseen for 2016 (9)
Thomas Henson's MansionThe Nowhere SphereThe Master MechanismA Scar in the EarthMark of the KalionCircles of CivilisationSacred SpaceLore of Sanctum OmnibusThe King’s Challenge (working title)
Republished ebooks after Thorstruck Press closed, now with Tirgearr Publishing (3)
The Tinsal DeckLatticeworksA Tear in the Clouds
Republished ebooks and paperbacks (2)
The Kallanon ScalesThe Nemisin Star
Paperbacks published for the first time (4)
The Infinity MantleThe Kinfire TreeThe Drowned ThroneThe Dragon Circle
New books (ebooks and paperback) (2)
The Sleeper SwordThe Dreamer Stones
New ebooks (8)
FingerNale TalesAncient IlluminatiomSecret RemediesRealm WalkerLore of Arcana OmnibusLore of Reaume OmnibusTown ThomasThe Nemesis Blade
Updated (1)
Our Friend Thomas Henson
Coming still in 2015 (4)
The Nemesis Blade (Paperback)Justine's JournalTravelling ThomasThe Echolone Mine
Foreseen for 2016 (9)
Thomas Henson's MansionThe Nowhere SphereThe Master MechanismA Scar in the EarthMark of the KalionCircles of CivilisationSacred SpaceLore of Sanctum OmnibusThe King’s Challenge (working title)
