Rival Gates's Blog, page 12
June 27, 2017
Excerpt, "Quest"
“Jelena was miserable and felt alone. After over three years of near constant travel, Dirk came home one day and her misery finally dawned on him. He decided right then that his family would want for nothing. With his profits from the company, he purchased the biggest house in the most elite neighborhood he could possibly afford. And although the fence was small, he made certain that the gate was huge.
Linvin just stared at the gate. “That’s how we came to have the gate and this house,” he added.
“Your father did not stop there. He knew that society may have accepted him, but was still quite cold about his marriage to an elf. Jelena would not even go to social events, because of the disdain the bluebloods showed for her. Dirk would not stand for the treatment of his wife. He resolved that society in this town would revolve around his family, not the other way around. If people wanted his friendship and thereby his business, they would not only need to accept his wife but embrace her as one of their own as well.
“After you were sent away, Grithinshield Manor became Grithinshield Mansion and anyone who wanted to do business in this town, or this country for that matter, was required to bow to your mother as a noble woman of the highest rank and pay her homage.
“So you see, my boy, your mother only wanted to be a housewife and mother, then her son was sent away. After that, her home became the center of society. Now Dirk is gone and her son has come home to despise the life which she has been left to lead. She is alone, but surrounded at the same time. This is her chance to make the pretentious snobs of Fraylic acknowledge her as they did when Dirk was here.”
“I never said I despised anything,” Linvin defended.
“Your mother is no fool, Linvin. She is downstairs bewildered, lost and feeling quite alone at a moment when there should be jubilation in this house.”
Linvin hung his head until it contacted the sill of the window.
“How do you feel now?” asked Anvar as he drew on his pipe.
“Pretty low.”
“Keep going,” Anvar urged.
“Like an ungrateful son.”
“You’re almost there,” urged Anvar.
“Like I should shut my mouth, go give her a hug and go along with her plan.”
“I think you’ve finally got the picture. Just make sure you do it in time to bathe before the tailors arrive.”
Linvin headed for the door and stopped a moment. “Those bath attendants mother mentioned, they wouldn’t happen to be female, would they?”
“Go!” ordered Anvar as he pointed to the door, “And have the good sense not to ask your mother that question. Remember, she still sees you as her twelve-year-old son. The carousel of possible brides she created for tonight was hard enough for her to handle.”
“You used to be more fun,” Linvin said as he exited the door.
Anvar once again drew on his pipe and then quietly murmured, “Times used to be much simpler.”
Linvin just stared at the gate. “That’s how we came to have the gate and this house,” he added.
“Your father did not stop there. He knew that society may have accepted him, but was still quite cold about his marriage to an elf. Jelena would not even go to social events, because of the disdain the bluebloods showed for her. Dirk would not stand for the treatment of his wife. He resolved that society in this town would revolve around his family, not the other way around. If people wanted his friendship and thereby his business, they would not only need to accept his wife but embrace her as one of their own as well.
“After you were sent away, Grithinshield Manor became Grithinshield Mansion and anyone who wanted to do business in this town, or this country for that matter, was required to bow to your mother as a noble woman of the highest rank and pay her homage.
“So you see, my boy, your mother only wanted to be a housewife and mother, then her son was sent away. After that, her home became the center of society. Now Dirk is gone and her son has come home to despise the life which she has been left to lead. She is alone, but surrounded at the same time. This is her chance to make the pretentious snobs of Fraylic acknowledge her as they did when Dirk was here.”
“I never said I despised anything,” Linvin defended.
“Your mother is no fool, Linvin. She is downstairs bewildered, lost and feeling quite alone at a moment when there should be jubilation in this house.”
Linvin hung his head until it contacted the sill of the window.
“How do you feel now?” asked Anvar as he drew on his pipe.
“Pretty low.”
“Keep going,” Anvar urged.
“Like an ungrateful son.”
“You’re almost there,” urged Anvar.
“Like I should shut my mouth, go give her a hug and go along with her plan.”
“I think you’ve finally got the picture. Just make sure you do it in time to bathe before the tailors arrive.”
Linvin headed for the door and stopped a moment. “Those bath attendants mother mentioned, they wouldn’t happen to be female, would they?”
“Go!” ordered Anvar as he pointed to the door, “And have the good sense not to ask your mother that question. Remember, she still sees you as her twelve-year-old son. The carousel of possible brides she created for tonight was hard enough for her to handle.”
“You used to be more fun,” Linvin said as he exited the door.
Anvar once again drew on his pipe and then quietly murmured, “Times used to be much simpler.”
June 21, 2017
Character Development
Do you remember art class in grammar school? Whenever a holiday would come up like Mother’s Day you’d make a special gift I was particularly proud of a bracelet made from a wide masking tape cardboard dispenser. Starting with that basic roll, I glued red velvet right down the center of it. I even measured and made marks all along the way just to make sure I stayed in the middle. Not satisfied with coloring I put glue along the edges and then poured silver glitter over it. For the final touch, I glued small plastic flower buds to the velvet. I was proud. On Mother’s Day I gave it to her and (being my mother) she loved it. She wore it all day but then the flowers started to fall off and the glitter started to get everywhere. So she put it in her jewelry box where it stayed until it was found again in the same spot after her death while going through her things. The point of all this is that building characters is a very similar process. First you have a basic character. There’s nothing special about them and have no noticeable attributes. Then you choose a sex for them. Let’s say female. Now she needs a name. The name has to fit the person you want her to be. This can take hours. Now think of your story and how she fits into it. Write down on a piece of paper the characteristics you want this woman to have. Then look at your story board and find places you can display those traits. If she’s a minor character you’re done. It’s just like the bracelet. It was perfect when it was first put together. If you want to keep the woman around, however, you will have to make some subtle changes to keep the reader interested. It is the same as how the bracelet changed the more it was used. When Mom wanted the changes to stop, she took it out of service. For example, if the woman is really mean all the time, then have her do something nice once or twice. Think of the movie “The Devil Wears Prada” and how Amanda is so vicious throughout the movie and then gives Andy a recommendation on a job at the end. This is character development. People want to see main characters evolve. They don’t have to completely change but something has to in order to keep your audience on their toes. It’s fun to make subtle changes. As a writer, it can get boring writing the same character the same way all of the time. Have fun with it.
June 20, 2017
Buying A Dog
I tell you my youngest daughter (16) is going to grow up to be a litigator. She has wanted her own dog for the last 5 years. We already have a Dachshund but the little thing is bound to my wife and shows little love to anyone else. My daughter wants a dog to love HER. It has been at the top of every Christmas list and Birthday Present list for 5 years. We keep saying no because we already have a dog that was left with us by our son. I wasn’t too happy about that. I like dogs. I just want to choose one when I want. Finally, by Father’s Day my daughter had found a 7-month-old German Shepherd at the Animal Rescue. She had gotten everyone else in the family on board with this dog except me. So here I am getting home from work on my big day and this bomb is dropped on me. In truth, I’m not a huge German Shepherd fan. I like more Golden Retrievers and Beagles. I was shown the picture of the shepherd and told all the stories including the promises that my daughter would take care of it. My daughter argued like she was trying to win a case and in the end, she did. I couldn’t object any longer. It even occurred to me that this would be good for her. So, I gave it my blessing. All that was left was for the two dogs to meet the next day which seemed like a formality. I went to work and came home expecting to see a cute 60 pound German Shepard waiting for me. The dog wasn’t there. When I asked what happened she said our Dachshund wouldn’t turn and let the Shepherd sniff its butt. That showed aggressive behavior and therefore we were disqualified from adopting it. If I were a dog I wouldn’t let some strange dog sniff my butt either. As for aggressive behavior, he weighs 10 pounds! What’s he going to do to a big dog like that? Apparently, there was no point in arguing. The decision had been made by the Humane Society and we couldn’t adopt. What’s the point of all this? Sometimes you have to let your pride take a hit in order to get what you want. Even if that means someone sniffing your butt.
June 14, 2017
Excerpt, "Crucible"
Linvin shook his head. “I am not sure, Cousin. While I see your point, he appeared quite pleased at finding the key. It was as though that was what he sought all along. Even if he did not send the murderers, he wants the gem.”
“Why would he?” Anvar asked. “The Red Sapphire is truly astounding in its power and scope, but it is only Red Magic. He already has Colorful Magic. He would have no use for the Red Sapphire’s power.”
“Colorful Magic?” Linvin inquired. “I do not remember you mentioning that when you explained magic to me.”
“I did not discuss it before because I believed it was extinct,” answered Anvar. “You see magic is a complicated subject dating back to the dawn of time. When people were first created, there were very special and rare individuals who were given the gift of magic. It was meant to safeguard all of The Creator’s works. The magic was said to look very much like that which Necromancer uses. It could take any form or color but in its pure state it most resembled sunlight. According to legend the several chosen Original Magicians did not tire from channeling the power and their strength could grow or decrease based on factors of which I am unaware.
“As time crept forward, the Magicians grew evil and corrupt with their excessive power. They used their tremendous gifts to dominate all life in the world. One by one they fell into darkness. Each insidious being became more twisted and wicked than the last. Their bodies contorted with their fall until their forms were unrecognizable and grotesque. They set their wills and subjects against one another in brutal wars that nearly wiped out life for good.
“Again, as legend states, The Creator was angered and displeased by the wanton misuse of his greatest gift. It was clear to him too much power had been concentrated in too few hands. He created a Grand Prism of the Cosmos. By passing it across the world he reclaimed the magic from the Original Magicians and diffused it into the colors I recounted to you previously.
“The gift was dispersed to a larger number of his creations and given limitations. Though a greater number of people could be born with the power, the numbers were still relatively few. When they channeled the power it would tax their endurance, making them subject to their own mortality. In that way The Creator limited the potential for one person to dominate the world.
“To further prevent misuse, He used the Prism to create the Hierarchy of Magic.” Anvar brushed aside the straw from a section of the floor and drew a triangle in the dirt with his finger. He made two horizontal lines crossing it at different places, dividing it into three sections. The first line was drawn two thirds of the way up the triangle. The second line was drawn just before the tip of the triangle and made a smaller almost undetectable area near the top.
Anvar pointed to the largest region. “The Magicians here are the Violet and Green Magicians. As I said before, they are the most common and possess the least power. They can only block magical attacks from their opposite color.” He pointed to the second region. “Next are the Orange and Yellow Magicians. They are considerably fewer in number and can channel more power. They can block any attack from a Green or Violet Magician or their opposite color. The final area is reserved for the Red and Blue Magicians. They are so rare I have never come across one in all my years. Their powers can dominate all but their rival color. They can channel the most power and unleash it with both amazing and terrifying results.
“Another legend states the Red Sapphire was actually part of the Great Prism the Creator detached and gave to the world to ensure freedom and stability. Whether that is true or not is a matter of debate. What is not argued is the breadth of its power. Even so, Colorful Magic would inherently be stronger.
“Why would he?” Anvar asked. “The Red Sapphire is truly astounding in its power and scope, but it is only Red Magic. He already has Colorful Magic. He would have no use for the Red Sapphire’s power.”
“Colorful Magic?” Linvin inquired. “I do not remember you mentioning that when you explained magic to me.”
“I did not discuss it before because I believed it was extinct,” answered Anvar. “You see magic is a complicated subject dating back to the dawn of time. When people were first created, there were very special and rare individuals who were given the gift of magic. It was meant to safeguard all of The Creator’s works. The magic was said to look very much like that which Necromancer uses. It could take any form or color but in its pure state it most resembled sunlight. According to legend the several chosen Original Magicians did not tire from channeling the power and their strength could grow or decrease based on factors of which I am unaware.
“As time crept forward, the Magicians grew evil and corrupt with their excessive power. They used their tremendous gifts to dominate all life in the world. One by one they fell into darkness. Each insidious being became more twisted and wicked than the last. Their bodies contorted with their fall until their forms were unrecognizable and grotesque. They set their wills and subjects against one another in brutal wars that nearly wiped out life for good.
“Again, as legend states, The Creator was angered and displeased by the wanton misuse of his greatest gift. It was clear to him too much power had been concentrated in too few hands. He created a Grand Prism of the Cosmos. By passing it across the world he reclaimed the magic from the Original Magicians and diffused it into the colors I recounted to you previously.
“The gift was dispersed to a larger number of his creations and given limitations. Though a greater number of people could be born with the power, the numbers were still relatively few. When they channeled the power it would tax their endurance, making them subject to their own mortality. In that way The Creator limited the potential for one person to dominate the world.
“To further prevent misuse, He used the Prism to create the Hierarchy of Magic.” Anvar brushed aside the straw from a section of the floor and drew a triangle in the dirt with his finger. He made two horizontal lines crossing it at different places, dividing it into three sections. The first line was drawn two thirds of the way up the triangle. The second line was drawn just before the tip of the triangle and made a smaller almost undetectable area near the top.
Anvar pointed to the largest region. “The Magicians here are the Violet and Green Magicians. As I said before, they are the most common and possess the least power. They can only block magical attacks from their opposite color.” He pointed to the second region. “Next are the Orange and Yellow Magicians. They are considerably fewer in number and can channel more power. They can block any attack from a Green or Violet Magician or their opposite color. The final area is reserved for the Red and Blue Magicians. They are so rare I have never come across one in all my years. Their powers can dominate all but their rival color. They can channel the most power and unleash it with both amazing and terrifying results.
“Another legend states the Red Sapphire was actually part of the Great Prism the Creator detached and gave to the world to ensure freedom and stability. Whether that is true or not is a matter of debate. What is not argued is the breadth of its power. Even so, Colorful Magic would inherently be stronger.
June 13, 2017
Excerpt, "Quest"
Linvin walked his horse along the road. The sound of his footsteps was being drowned out by the heavy clamor of horseshoes on the brick. The common noises blended into the quaint atmosphere that the lavish avenue had maintained.
On the block, each home was more lavish than the one preceding it. As the yards grew, so did the manors. Without exception, all the mansions were far grander than he recalled. He could not help but wonder if indeed the homes were that much larger or if he simply did not remember them well after so many years. Rationalizing that the answer must lie somewhere between the two points, he concluded that his street, and his city for that matter, had become quite affluent indeed.
The nearer he came, the larger his parents’ house looked. It surely had been renovated in his absence. By comparison, every house within view seemed to melt away into obscurity.
Where a decorative white fence had stood during Linvin’s childhood, now a scrolled bronze fence with copper tips on the top points loomed. Two double gates had been added to allow carriages through. A semicircular driveway of crushed quartz glistened like diamonds in the sun. The drive connected the gates, presumably for the speedy progress of guest sat social events of size. The only part of the fence still recognizable to Linvin was the massive bronze gate, which formerly had stood in sharp contrast to the white fence. The great and masterful piece likely played some part in the design of the new enclosure. Beyond the gate, the crushed quartz had replaced the once simple stone walkway.
Though breathtaking in both scale and artistry, the message was clear that solicitations were not welcome. It was a feel that Linvin had never received from his home.
As Linvin neared the gate, a servant dressed in the finest attire stopped him just short of his destination. Though his heartiest days had passed, he carried himself with poise and dignity which was seldom seem. Neither small nor tall in stature, his very presence still found a way to command respect.
“Forgive me, kind sir,” said the servant, as he tipped his top hat to Linvin. “Might I inquire as to your business here at Grithinshield Manor?”
Linvin had been hidden from view by his horse. Even so, Linvin knew to whom he was addressing. “Oh, I do not know, really. I thought I might climb trees in my best clothes or perhaps switch salt into the sugar container to give the cook some new added flavor to her cooking.”
The servant took the reins from Linvin’s hand and pulled the horse out of the way.
“Master Linvin!” he exclaimed. After tying the horse to the fence, he gave Linvin a great hug.
“I knew that was you who made the switch!” he half-heartedly scolded. “Worst pastry I’ve tasted in my life.”
“Well, I had to have a bit of sport, Theisen,” Linvin grinned. “After all, you would not let me do anything fun.”
“My charge was to be sure you grew up to be a proper young man in one piece,” Theisen said while repeatedly poking his finger into Linvin’s chest. Then he took more of a broad look at the man before him. “Well, all I can say is that you looked much better when you left as a youngster.”
“I could say the same of you,” Linvin said with a laugh.
Theisen chased him around the horse in a friendly gesture. “Don’t think I can’t find a switch around here to teach you to mind your elders.”
“You best make it a small one,” Linvin goaded. “At your age, I fear the strain of a big stick might exhaust you.”
Theisen caught Linvin in his lackadaisical effort to escape and placed the former general’s head against the bars of the gate. He proceeded to tousle Linvin’s hair and say, “I don’t believe I heard you right, young master.”
Linvin smiled and easily removed himself from the feigned hold. “I said that I have missed you, Theisen, and it is good to be home.”
On the block, each home was more lavish than the one preceding it. As the yards grew, so did the manors. Without exception, all the mansions were far grander than he recalled. He could not help but wonder if indeed the homes were that much larger or if he simply did not remember them well after so many years. Rationalizing that the answer must lie somewhere between the two points, he concluded that his street, and his city for that matter, had become quite affluent indeed.
The nearer he came, the larger his parents’ house looked. It surely had been renovated in his absence. By comparison, every house within view seemed to melt away into obscurity.
Where a decorative white fence had stood during Linvin’s childhood, now a scrolled bronze fence with copper tips on the top points loomed. Two double gates had been added to allow carriages through. A semicircular driveway of crushed quartz glistened like diamonds in the sun. The drive connected the gates, presumably for the speedy progress of guest sat social events of size. The only part of the fence still recognizable to Linvin was the massive bronze gate, which formerly had stood in sharp contrast to the white fence. The great and masterful piece likely played some part in the design of the new enclosure. Beyond the gate, the crushed quartz had replaced the once simple stone walkway.
Though breathtaking in both scale and artistry, the message was clear that solicitations were not welcome. It was a feel that Linvin had never received from his home.
As Linvin neared the gate, a servant dressed in the finest attire stopped him just short of his destination. Though his heartiest days had passed, he carried himself with poise and dignity which was seldom seem. Neither small nor tall in stature, his very presence still found a way to command respect.
“Forgive me, kind sir,” said the servant, as he tipped his top hat to Linvin. “Might I inquire as to your business here at Grithinshield Manor?”
Linvin had been hidden from view by his horse. Even so, Linvin knew to whom he was addressing. “Oh, I do not know, really. I thought I might climb trees in my best clothes or perhaps switch salt into the sugar container to give the cook some new added flavor to her cooking.”
The servant took the reins from Linvin’s hand and pulled the horse out of the way.
“Master Linvin!” he exclaimed. After tying the horse to the fence, he gave Linvin a great hug.
“I knew that was you who made the switch!” he half-heartedly scolded. “Worst pastry I’ve tasted in my life.”
“Well, I had to have a bit of sport, Theisen,” Linvin grinned. “After all, you would not let me do anything fun.”
“My charge was to be sure you grew up to be a proper young man in one piece,” Theisen said while repeatedly poking his finger into Linvin’s chest. Then he took more of a broad look at the man before him. “Well, all I can say is that you looked much better when you left as a youngster.”
“I could say the same of you,” Linvin said with a laugh.
Theisen chased him around the horse in a friendly gesture. “Don’t think I can’t find a switch around here to teach you to mind your elders.”
“You best make it a small one,” Linvin goaded. “At your age, I fear the strain of a big stick might exhaust you.”
Theisen caught Linvin in his lackadaisical effort to escape and placed the former general’s head against the bars of the gate. He proceeded to tousle Linvin’s hair and say, “I don’t believe I heard you right, young master.”
Linvin smiled and easily removed himself from the feigned hold. “I said that I have missed you, Theisen, and it is good to be home.”
June 7, 2017
Your Music
Every age bracket has their own music. My mother was a very astute woman. Before I went to college she told me the music I like in high school and college will be the music I like for the rest of my life. It turned out to be true. Sure, I have added some bands since then but the core of my music has stayed the same. I thought my music was great. Then on spring break I played a piece for my father in which Mr. Edward Van Halen was shredding the guitar. I thought it was amazing. He thought it was noise. He proceeded to put on his Frank Sinatra instead. That’s what he grew up with and my music was untalented garbage to him. At the time, it bothered me. In retrospect, it was just too much change for him. I was riding today with my 16-year-old daughter who had control of the radio. None of the songs had instruments. It was all syncopated sound. Then they had to keep bleeping parts out of the songs. One song went, “You gotta go get her cause she dance like a stripper, You gotta go tip her cause she dance like a stripper.” The song just went on like that. I don’t have a leg to stand on here because some of the songs I like are pretty bad but I never felt they were so out in the open in their depravity. My daughter loves this new music and tolerates some of my songs. I hate to be my father but the singers don’t even write their songs. They can’t play instruments. And they all sound the same. A girl sings for a minute and then a rapper comes in. Then it’s back to the girl. The formula seems to work because everyone is doing it. What’s the point of all this? Writing is very similar to music. There are different topics and writing styles. I’ve read works that I loved and other ones that really offended me. It all depends on your audience. That’s the ultimate judge. If they buy it, you must be doing something right.
June 6, 2017
D-Day
Today I’m not going to talk about writing. I want to talk about an often-forgotten event marked by today. When I mention it to people I get one of two answers. Either they tell me they didn’t know it was today or worse, they have never heard of the event. I am of course referring to D-Day. On June 6th in 1944 the Allied forces under the command of General Dwight D. Eisenhower made an amphibious landing in Normandy on the coast of France. Hundreds of thousands of men attacked Hitler’s Atlantic Wall. The defenses included water obstacles, mines, land mines, artillery and “pill boxes” which were concrete bunkers with machine gunners in them. They were spaced to have interlocking fields of fire to cover the whole beach. Landing craft after landing craft disembarked into this raging hell and were trapped on the beach. Loses were heavy. As a society, we are upset by loses in places like Iraq over the years of war. Imagine losing more people than that in a morning! The blood colored the surf red. Thanks to some heroic men the pill boxes were destroyed and the artillery was knocked out. At home in America the Liberty Bell rang in Philadelphia. People crowded churches to pray for their loved ones in the operation. It was the hard-won toe hold on the continent of Europe that would be the beginning of the end of Hitler’s Germany. It was one of the largest and bloodiest battles in U.S. history and yet people don’t remember or even know about it. Had things not gone the Allies way that day, the world may look much different today. So remember today. Remember those who fell. The Allies deserve at least a passing thought on this reverent day.
May 31, 2017
Excerpt, "Crucible"
The montage of days passed with the landscape before their eyes as the caravan followed the road north. Vineyards eventually gave way to livestock farms and small towns or villages. The people here were fearful of their own forces, having been overtaxed and treated with brutality by the impudent goblins. Townspeople peered through their windows at the elves. Linvin observed their faces as they passed. Each one wore the expression of someone looking at a person about to die.
Parents pulled children out of the streets to clear the path for the passing soldiers. Anything of value was quickly hidden. Kegs of wine were left in the center of town as an offering so the soldiers might take them and leave their home in peace. The ploy was successful as the goblins took up the kegs and continued on their way.
In particular, the goblins were wary of Anvar. From their statements and actions they revealed they were fully aware of his magical abilities. If an escape were to occur, Anvar would take no part in its success.
As the days passed autumn was revealed by slowly dropping temperatures. The sky only seemed to vary in shades of gray. Each passing day leached the family of might and hope. Their spirits were low and the only good thing about being in the cage was it kept the rain off of them as it began a daily ritual of soaking the land.
Towns became larger and more frequent. The road became smoother. Farms that had lain sporadically along the way grew more numerous and close in proximity. Before long they were right by one another. The population was becoming denser as they moved further into the empire.
People would line the road in order to view the prisoners as they passed. Some heckled and jeered. Others cried at the sight. The disheartening scene played out before the captives as they steadily rolled forward.
Contrasted against the farmers harvesting their crops, the goblins looked alien and out of place. They felt ill at ease in the environment and quickened their pace.
After many days and nights the party’s destination came into view. From a flat plain rose a relatively small castle with a great city surrounding its walls. As they drew closer it became clear the castle and in particular the walls were not finished being constructed. Huge gaps had yet to be filled on all sides of the barriers. The four towers connecting them appeared to be done. The sight was most odd with the four spires stretching to the sky with little between them.
Within the walls was the castle itself. It too was a paradox. Rather than being built as a fortification, it was made to be a palace. Undoubtedly, the structure was being constructed to proclaim someone’s glory rather than protect it.
Parents pulled children out of the streets to clear the path for the passing soldiers. Anything of value was quickly hidden. Kegs of wine were left in the center of town as an offering so the soldiers might take them and leave their home in peace. The ploy was successful as the goblins took up the kegs and continued on their way.
In particular, the goblins were wary of Anvar. From their statements and actions they revealed they were fully aware of his magical abilities. If an escape were to occur, Anvar would take no part in its success.
As the days passed autumn was revealed by slowly dropping temperatures. The sky only seemed to vary in shades of gray. Each passing day leached the family of might and hope. Their spirits were low and the only good thing about being in the cage was it kept the rain off of them as it began a daily ritual of soaking the land.
Towns became larger and more frequent. The road became smoother. Farms that had lain sporadically along the way grew more numerous and close in proximity. Before long they were right by one another. The population was becoming denser as they moved further into the empire.
People would line the road in order to view the prisoners as they passed. Some heckled and jeered. Others cried at the sight. The disheartening scene played out before the captives as they steadily rolled forward.
Contrasted against the farmers harvesting their crops, the goblins looked alien and out of place. They felt ill at ease in the environment and quickened their pace.
After many days and nights the party’s destination came into view. From a flat plain rose a relatively small castle with a great city surrounding its walls. As they drew closer it became clear the castle and in particular the walls were not finished being constructed. Huge gaps had yet to be filled on all sides of the barriers. The four towers connecting them appeared to be done. The sight was most odd with the four spires stretching to the sky with little between them.
Within the walls was the castle itself. It too was a paradox. Rather than being built as a fortification, it was made to be a palace. Undoubtedly, the structure was being constructed to proclaim someone’s glory rather than protect it.
May 30, 2017
Excerpt, "Quest"
For several months, Linvin traveled on roads he had scarcely seen since his childhood. Finally his destination came into view, the capital city of Fraylic, in the Human County of Sartan.
It was a vastly different city than Sarice. No walls surrounded the settlement. It sprawled out of sight in all directions. Even the vacant land just outside that city had been portioned off for construction. The largest city in the world was growing with no signs of stopping.
Though he could see from a distance that there had been many changes since his last visit, Linvin was in no mood to take in the view. His mother’s house was on the far side of town. He circled the city rather than riding through its bustling streets.
At last, he was riding down his own street. Always an affluent part of town, it had transformed into the elite neighborhood of an elitist city. With his traveling clothes accessorized by the scars on his skin, Linvin drew attention from the local inhabitants as he rode down the street.
His goal came into view at the dead end of the road, but before he could take in the grandeur of his parent’s home, a pedestrian abruptly impacted his horse.
The lady was dressed in a fine yellow taffeta frock with lace trim. She fell in a somewhat amusing manner against the red-bricked road. Her large bustle cushioned the landing initially but then forced her torso to slide back from the force of the fall.
With great embarrassment, she rolled back to her feet. Deliberately pushing the horse’s head out of the way, she stamped by indignantly.
“Out of my way, ruffian!” she said, not looking at Linvin. “You would think a proper lady could walk these streets without being accosted by such vile vermin. Well, go beg for work elsewhere!”
Linvin laughed at the frumpy old woman. “Could I not even rake your yard for a slice of your cherry-berry pie?”
The woman stopped immediately. She turned her head and squinted as she looked at Linvin. “No,” she told herself, “This can’t be. Not…little Linvin Grithinshield, coming home at last?”
Linvin smiled widely. “I’m not so little anymore, Mrs. Harnbottom.”
“Well, just so you’re not too big to come down here and give an old woman a hug.”
Linvin dismounted and hugged the plump matriarch. “I have been called many things over the years, but I must say this is the first time I have ever received the title of ‘ruffian.’
Mrs. Harnbottom stroked his cheek and looked ashamed. “Dear sweet Linvin, I did not recognize you in these rags … and armor, no less.”
“Well, my road has been a long one and my appearance may indeed show it.”
“You were probably the wiser for not appearing of status these days. What with bandits on the roads and crime on every street, it’s hardly safe for a woman of status to travel anymore.”
“I do not recall Fraylic being so dangerous in my youth,” Linvin recalled.
Mrs. Harnbottom pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped invisible tears from her eyes. “That was a long time ago. The city has more than doubled its size since you left. With the end of the war years ago, all the major trade routes began to travel through here. That’s the reason for all of the crime. With so much wealth passing through these streets, many unscrupulous characters want a piece of it. Robbers, swindlers, murderers…” She stopped in mid-sentence after realizing what she had said.
“Are you speaking of my father’s disappearance?” Linvin asked directly.
It was a vastly different city than Sarice. No walls surrounded the settlement. It sprawled out of sight in all directions. Even the vacant land just outside that city had been portioned off for construction. The largest city in the world was growing with no signs of stopping.
Though he could see from a distance that there had been many changes since his last visit, Linvin was in no mood to take in the view. His mother’s house was on the far side of town. He circled the city rather than riding through its bustling streets.
At last, he was riding down his own street. Always an affluent part of town, it had transformed into the elite neighborhood of an elitist city. With his traveling clothes accessorized by the scars on his skin, Linvin drew attention from the local inhabitants as he rode down the street.
His goal came into view at the dead end of the road, but before he could take in the grandeur of his parent’s home, a pedestrian abruptly impacted his horse.
The lady was dressed in a fine yellow taffeta frock with lace trim. She fell in a somewhat amusing manner against the red-bricked road. Her large bustle cushioned the landing initially but then forced her torso to slide back from the force of the fall.
With great embarrassment, she rolled back to her feet. Deliberately pushing the horse’s head out of the way, she stamped by indignantly.
“Out of my way, ruffian!” she said, not looking at Linvin. “You would think a proper lady could walk these streets without being accosted by such vile vermin. Well, go beg for work elsewhere!”
Linvin laughed at the frumpy old woman. “Could I not even rake your yard for a slice of your cherry-berry pie?”
The woman stopped immediately. She turned her head and squinted as she looked at Linvin. “No,” she told herself, “This can’t be. Not…little Linvin Grithinshield, coming home at last?”
Linvin smiled widely. “I’m not so little anymore, Mrs. Harnbottom.”
“Well, just so you’re not too big to come down here and give an old woman a hug.”
Linvin dismounted and hugged the plump matriarch. “I have been called many things over the years, but I must say this is the first time I have ever received the title of ‘ruffian.’
Mrs. Harnbottom stroked his cheek and looked ashamed. “Dear sweet Linvin, I did not recognize you in these rags … and armor, no less.”
“Well, my road has been a long one and my appearance may indeed show it.”
“You were probably the wiser for not appearing of status these days. What with bandits on the roads and crime on every street, it’s hardly safe for a woman of status to travel anymore.”
“I do not recall Fraylic being so dangerous in my youth,” Linvin recalled.
Mrs. Harnbottom pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped invisible tears from her eyes. “That was a long time ago. The city has more than doubled its size since you left. With the end of the war years ago, all the major trade routes began to travel through here. That’s the reason for all of the crime. With so much wealth passing through these streets, many unscrupulous characters want a piece of it. Robbers, swindlers, murderers…” She stopped in mid-sentence after realizing what she had said.
“Are you speaking of my father’s disappearance?” Linvin asked directly.
May 24, 2017
Keep Your Chin Up
I have a niece who is incredibly intelligent and skilled. She can do anything on a TV or movie set behind the scenes or even behind the camera. She has the right education and degree but unfortunately went to school up at the University of Regina in Saskatchewan. It is a fine school in a fine city. However, if you are looking for movie making or television broadcasting, there is little in the way of work. That led her to Toronto in hopes of catching on in their robust film industry. Why am I telling you this? There are a lot of young authors out there who have felt like they were beating their heads against a wall in their attempts to become published. I went through the same thing having my first book published. It took a year and a half. My niece doesn’t give up because she knows she has talent and only needs a chance. That’s why I never gave up either. And if you’re one of those frustrated writers out there, take heart. Everyone gets turned down. Just keep refining your work and take any constructive feedback as a way to improve yourself. Mind you, don’t let one crack pot editor ruin your dreams. If you know deep in your heart that it is good, there is a publisher out there who will too. I still see indi-publishing as a last resort. Some people swear by it while others swear at it. All I can say is if you do it, do your homework first. It’s a lot of work. In the end, keep your chin up and if you can get an agent it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
