Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 398
August 12, 2015
The King's Challenge #15
TKC 15
A solid item in a heavy fist starts banging on my coffin. The din is incredible, and my entire body shakes. Almost I shove the covering upwards, seeking to end it.
I hear shouting over it and then I hear something else. It is the silence of absence, but the lack of sound does not last long, for I hear something more.
Rain.
To the stars with this. I heave the lid up employing hands and feet to remove it, to get it away. Gasping, I straighten. Never will I voluntarily clamber into a coffin again. It is the most terrifying experience, and also humiliating. Not caring about safety, I abscond the confining box for the dead.
The deadhouse interior is emptied of everything but coffins. The old man has vanished also. Rain hurtles down to drum upon the tin roof. That din I am able to live with, though.
“Damin!”
Two shaped shadows away, a lid crashes open. Damin sits up. He appears disorientated. “What is that noise?”
“Rain,” I mutter.
He stares at me. “It is raining?” Suddenly his confusion is gone and an insane kind of glee replaces it. “It is raining! That is why they went.” Then he sobers and swiftly leaves his coffin. “We must go too. If it rains more than twenty minutes, it means the wet season has arrived. It will flood within an hour and we will not reach the path to the plateau.”
This is the longest, most intense night of my life, but it is not yet over. I drag my cloak free and swing it on. “Then let us go.”
Flashing his grin, Damin takes my hand and heads for the door. No one is in the vicinity.
“Lyra, now we run until we are above this.”
We run.
A solid item in a heavy fist starts banging on my coffin. The din is incredible, and my entire body shakes. Almost I shove the covering upwards, seeking to end it.
I hear shouting over it and then I hear something else. It is the silence of absence, but the lack of sound does not last long, for I hear something more.
Rain.
To the stars with this. I heave the lid up employing hands and feet to remove it, to get it away. Gasping, I straighten. Never will I voluntarily clamber into a coffin again. It is the most terrifying experience, and also humiliating. Not caring about safety, I abscond the confining box for the dead.
The deadhouse interior is emptied of everything but coffins. The old man has vanished also. Rain hurtles down to drum upon the tin roof. That din I am able to live with, though.
“Damin!”
Two shaped shadows away, a lid crashes open. Damin sits up. He appears disorientated. “What is that noise?”
“Rain,” I mutter.
He stares at me. “It is raining?” Suddenly his confusion is gone and an insane kind of glee replaces it. “It is raining! That is why they went.” Then he sobers and swiftly leaves his coffin. “We must go too. If it rains more than twenty minutes, it means the wet season has arrived. It will flood within an hour and we will not reach the path to the plateau.”
This is the longest, most intense night of my life, but it is not yet over. I drag my cloak free and swing it on. “Then let us go.”
Flashing his grin, Damin takes my hand and heads for the door. No one is in the vicinity.
“Lyra, now we run until we are above this.”
We run.
80 000+!
Woop! Over 80 000 visitors! Thank you for stopping by, everyone!
xxx
xxx
August 11, 2015
TKC Collage 1
For fun and to garner a feel for the story so far, I created a collage of the first 14 images used for The King's Challenge :)
If you have missed out on any of the episodes, the links to each TKC post can be found in the dedicated page in the sidebar, or click 'The King's Challenge' in Labels.
Thanks for reading!
If you have missed out on any of the episodes, the links to each TKC post can be found in the dedicated page in the sidebar, or click 'The King's Challenge' in Labels.
Thanks for reading!
The King's Challenge #14
TKC 14
The return journey to the upper city is an eternity of running and hiding. Despite the sounds of people fighting, laughing, making love and screaming, our footsteps on the wooden walkways are like thunder to my ears. Every moment I expect to be waylaid. Worse, though, is the expectation of a knife in my back.
Damin’s urgency puts wings to my feet.
At the deadhouse we crouch in the shadows. Ahead is the switchback path to the plateau. It is well-lit and there are too many negotiating the steepness.
Damin swears. “They come down already.”
“Who?” I dare.
“Lawmen. Tonight the lower city will feel the brunt.”
“Damin, what happened?” I gesture at his bloodied hands and clothes.
“Assassins, two of them. I lost three of my men at the alehouse and barely got away. Those,” and he gestures at the forms on the path, “will now retaliate for losing two of their own.” He glances at me. “Lyra, they will kill us if they find us.”
“Pssst!”
Both of us jerk around and I nearly leave my skin. The old man from the deadhouse peers around the corner and gesticulates wildly. Damin glances at me, nods, and we swiftly make our way to him.
As a host of boots thud upon the planks and those shudders transmit into the island, the old man shoves us into the darkness inside. “Coffins,” he hisses, and locks us in.
There is no time for choices. We hear loud voices outside. Damin finds two empty coffins, and almost breaks my arm in his haste to get me into one. The cover closes. I hear scuffles and then the low sound of another lid closing.
The door crashes open. The old man shouts his ire.
I feel as if I am already dead.
The return journey to the upper city is an eternity of running and hiding. Despite the sounds of people fighting, laughing, making love and screaming, our footsteps on the wooden walkways are like thunder to my ears. Every moment I expect to be waylaid. Worse, though, is the expectation of a knife in my back.
Damin’s urgency puts wings to my feet.
At the deadhouse we crouch in the shadows. Ahead is the switchback path to the plateau. It is well-lit and there are too many negotiating the steepness.
Damin swears. “They come down already.”
“Who?” I dare.
“Lawmen. Tonight the lower city will feel the brunt.”
“Damin, what happened?” I gesture at his bloodied hands and clothes.
“Assassins, two of them. I lost three of my men at the alehouse and barely got away. Those,” and he gestures at the forms on the path, “will now retaliate for losing two of their own.” He glances at me. “Lyra, they will kill us if they find us.”
“Pssst!”
Both of us jerk around and I nearly leave my skin. The old man from the deadhouse peers around the corner and gesticulates wildly. Damin glances at me, nods, and we swiftly make our way to him.
As a host of boots thud upon the planks and those shudders transmit into the island, the old man shoves us into the darkness inside. “Coffins,” he hisses, and locks us in.
There is no time for choices. We hear loud voices outside. Damin finds two empty coffins, and almost breaks my arm in his haste to get me into one. The cover closes. I hear scuffles and then the low sound of another lid closing.
The door crashes open. The old man shouts his ire.
I feel as if I am already dead.
August 10, 2015
The King's Challenge #13
TKC 13
Kneeling, I attempt to determine Damin’s injuries. How he received them is immaterial at this point. “Tell me where you’re hurt.”
Gulping in air rapidly, he shakes his head, unable to speak. Eventually he says, “Not my blood.” He shoves himself up. “We cannot stay here.” He moves swiftly to the small window and peers down. “Pack, Lyra. We are leaving.”
“What happened?” I demand.
“Later. We need to vanish. Move, Lyra! I would already be in hiding if I had not given thought to you – move!”
In quick order I have my cloak thrust into my pack and sling the receptacle to my shoulders. I join Damin at the window.
“They are coming,” he whispers. “Silent now. Do what I do.”
He clambers onto the sill and squeezes through the unglazed opening to swing onto an ancient lattice attached to the building. It does not look too strong, but Damin goes down nonetheless. I follow, ignoring the ripping sounds as my dress is torn repeatedly.
We hunker together in the shadows then and listen. The night is not silent here, but both of us become aware of approaching, stealthy footsteps. Damin points in the direction opposite. In a running crouch, he vanishes into the trees there. Again I follow, my heart beating a rapid rhythm.
Damin lifts a leaf-covered trapdoor and sidles in, beckoning. I think of rats, but I enter. In the darkness below, Damin pulls me along. It is an escape tunnel and it stinks of marsh mud.
I hear him counting under his breath. Abruptly he halts and heaves upward to open another trapdoor. Climbing out, he leans in to haul me through.
“Do you have coin? We are heading into Upper Normur.”
I nod. “Attis can help.”
He flashes a smile. “Seems the boy has use after all.”
Kneeling, I attempt to determine Damin’s injuries. How he received them is immaterial at this point. “Tell me where you’re hurt.”
Gulping in air rapidly, he shakes his head, unable to speak. Eventually he says, “Not my blood.” He shoves himself up. “We cannot stay here.” He moves swiftly to the small window and peers down. “Pack, Lyra. We are leaving.”
“What happened?” I demand.
“Later. We need to vanish. Move, Lyra! I would already be in hiding if I had not given thought to you – move!”
In quick order I have my cloak thrust into my pack and sling the receptacle to my shoulders. I join Damin at the window.
“They are coming,” he whispers. “Silent now. Do what I do.”
He clambers onto the sill and squeezes through the unglazed opening to swing onto an ancient lattice attached to the building. It does not look too strong, but Damin goes down nonetheless. I follow, ignoring the ripping sounds as my dress is torn repeatedly.
We hunker together in the shadows then and listen. The night is not silent here, but both of us become aware of approaching, stealthy footsteps. Damin points in the direction opposite. In a running crouch, he vanishes into the trees there. Again I follow, my heart beating a rapid rhythm.
Damin lifts a leaf-covered trapdoor and sidles in, beckoning. I think of rats, but I enter. In the darkness below, Damin pulls me along. It is an escape tunnel and it stinks of marsh mud.
I hear him counting under his breath. Abruptly he halts and heaves upward to open another trapdoor. Climbing out, he leans in to haul me through.
“Do you have coin? We are heading into Upper Normur.”
I nod. “Attis can help.”
He flashes a smile. “Seems the boy has use after all.”
August 9, 2015
The King's Challenge #12
TKC 12
My second night in Normur is not as comfortable. The bedroom I am allocated has gaps in the planking and allows the cold night air in, and this time the city lights are not as distant. Now I see fires everywhere, used for light, warmth and cooking, and I am horrified. One spark, and the lower city will be ablaze.
The bed is lumpy and the bedding mildewed. Shuddering disgust, I lay my cloak upon it, but I cannot sleep anyway. Staring out into a night filled with desperation, I understand how the way life works here needs to change if people are to survive with dignity.
Damin tells me to lock my door, saying he needs to go out and cannot watch over me. I wonder what he is doing and I give thought too to why he is reticent about it. Somehow I must break the shield he has placed around his emotions.
There is nothing to eat and my stomach cramps in hunger. This too reveals to me how easy it will be to stoke folk to revolution.
Yet, there is something far more dangerous on approach. I thought to save the folk of Grenmassin, but everyonewill become slaves to desperation. Perhaps this is why Damin stays, having realised it. Perhaps change needs to start here in Normur, where many voices are able to shout loud enough.
Maybe I should listen to him before judging his continued absence.
As dawn begins to lighten the heavens, I lie on my cloak and curl up cold and hungry. In a state of slumber I hear a commotion and someone bangs on my door. Damin demands entrance. Up in an instant, I unlock to him.
He stumbles through, covered in blood. “Lock it!” he gasps, falling to his knees.
My second night in Normur is not as comfortable. The bedroom I am allocated has gaps in the planking and allows the cold night air in, and this time the city lights are not as distant. Now I see fires everywhere, used for light, warmth and cooking, and I am horrified. One spark, and the lower city will be ablaze.
The bed is lumpy and the bedding mildewed. Shuddering disgust, I lay my cloak upon it, but I cannot sleep anyway. Staring out into a night filled with desperation, I understand how the way life works here needs to change if people are to survive with dignity.
Damin tells me to lock my door, saying he needs to go out and cannot watch over me. I wonder what he is doing and I give thought too to why he is reticent about it. Somehow I must break the shield he has placed around his emotions.
There is nothing to eat and my stomach cramps in hunger. This too reveals to me how easy it will be to stoke folk to revolution.
Yet, there is something far more dangerous on approach. I thought to save the folk of Grenmassin, but everyonewill become slaves to desperation. Perhaps this is why Damin stays, having realised it. Perhaps change needs to start here in Normur, where many voices are able to shout loud enough.
Maybe I should listen to him before judging his continued absence.
As dawn begins to lighten the heavens, I lie on my cloak and curl up cold and hungry. In a state of slumber I hear a commotion and someone bangs on my door. Damin demands entrance. Up in an instant, I unlock to him.
He stumbles through, covered in blood. “Lock it!” he gasps, falling to his knees.
