Aldrea Alien's Blog, page 43

Designing a Monstrous Book

 

[image error]These four GDs aren’t even enough. Picture another half.

When making my books available in paperback, the sizing I prefer to use is 8×5. It’s a nice size to hold and close to most of the other small paperbacks gracing my shelves. But it does come with a limitation. Namely, it won’t support a book that’s too large without becoming a terribly unwieldy block.

Something like “Exhibit A” over there.

And that’s somewhat of an issue for In Pain and Blood, given the sheer amount of words I already have in the story. So, I’ve opted to go bigger.

6×9, bigger.

To that end, went to see how the larger format holds up to my behemoth. So far, the first half of the novel is around 280 pages in this format (compared with 328 in the smaller size).

Doing the maths, the full novel would be about the size of another book I own:

This about as close as I’ll get to a visualisation of how large it’ll look until I’m finished with the completing and editing part of writing a novel.

There was also the interior to think of. I’ve not had to sit down and fully design the interior of a novel since The Rogue King, as the other two novels use the same setup.

But the Spellster Series will have a slightly different look…

Told you it was slight.

Now to just finish up writing the damn thing. Only 7-9% left to go. Come on, me!

In Pain and Blood – Chapter Eleven

[image error]Chapter ten ended with Dylan knocked out and in crazy nightmare land. Whatever will he find has happened when he wakes?

Remember, you can get these chapters, and all the R-rated ones, straight into your email by signing up here.

If you want to read the story in a slightly friendlier format, you can find all chapters on Wattpad and Inkitt.

Chapter Eleven

Dylan became aware of being elsewhere with a jerking start. Darkness surrounded him. He was still beneath the earth, yet— No. His eyelids might feel a little too heavy to open right now, but he could distinguish the flickering of light beyond them. Was he dead? Truly dead?

He lay on his back. His heart hammered unmercifully. That didn’t seem like the act of a dead man. And his breath came swiftly and shuddered through his chest, yet the act was unobstructed. There appeared to be the warmth of a body cradling his head rather than the clammy coldness of mud.

Thighs. He was lying down with his head pillowed on someone’s thighs.

A hand slid over his scalp, stroking his hair. That didn’t seem like the act of an enemy. Or rather more importantly, not like someone intent on his death just now.

There was the dull clang of metal.

Dylan groaned and rolled his head to one side. His eyes fluttered open. He stared blankly at the scene before him, trying to make sense of the world. Katarina stood near a campfire, stirring a little pot suspended over the embers. His nose caught the scent of heavily overcooked grain. It smelt divine.

“He’s awake.”

That voice. So close. The elven warrior, Authril. Her lap beneath his head. They’d all survived. Or were they now prisoners?

He sat up and the world spun.

“Careful,” Katarina cautioned.

When his head stopped messing with his eyesight, he took in their surroundings. It was dark beyond the light of the fire, but he could see enough to know they were alone and that this wasn’t the army camp. Trees hemmed them on all sides, their outlines against the sky dark and imposing.

He licked his lips. His tongue had a distinctly papery-tasting film on it. How long had he been unconscious? A few hours? A day? No, they couldn’t have gone far after the attack. “Where are we?” he croaked.

“Just a little ways into the forest,” Authril replied. “It’s good to see you’re awake, I was beginning to think I’d have to carry your arse all the way to Toptower after all.” Her gaze kept flicking to the top of his head as she talked. Was there something wrong with it? “Are you all right?”

Dylan gingerly felt his hair. A section at the back was clumped together by a tepid congealed substance. He didn’t want to dwell on what it could be. His gaze dropped to the thickly-woven fabric draped over his lap. He didn’t recall either woman packing a blanket. “What happened?”

“You took the pommel of a sword to the skull,” Katarina said. She laid out the three mismatched and battered bowls he didn’t recall anyone adding to their packs and filled them with some sort of brown gloop.

He eyed the steaming bowls, his stomach growling as if he’d swallowed some sort of beast. When was the last time he’d eaten? Had it really been several days?

“And you bled everywhere,” Authril helpfully added, drawing him back to what the women were saying. “Head wounds do that, of course, but I thought we’d lost you for sure. Yet you seemed to knit yourself back together quick enough.”

Dylan frowned. He recalled fighting the soldiers  before everything went red. He’d vague memories of being struck on the back of the head and then…

He felt along his side. His skin was unmarked, not even a hint of a scar. The same couldn’t be said for his clothing. Both his robe and undertunic were scorched and torn where the bolt struck. He’d have to find a way to patch the fabric before the holes got any bigger. “And what became of the Udyneans?”

“Gone,” the elf replied. “For the most part.”

So they hadn’t all died. Did that mean he’d failed in his attempt to take the enemy spellster’s life? He licked his parched lips and braced himself for the answer as he asked, “Did their spellster make it?”

She shook her head. “He’s dead.”

“Are you sure?” He thought the man had been beyond any sort of retaliation when the shield fell, yet he’d been struck.

Her lips flattened into a grim smile. “Unless the sod can grow a new head, then yes. I wasn’t about to leave the possibility of him reviving to chance. Here.” She handed him a water skin. It didn’t look like the same soot-stained one they’d pulled from the tent remains. “You sound terrible.”

He took a swig from the water skin. The coolness soothed his throat and washed away the sourness in his mouth. It tasted strangely familiar. Cleaner than what he’d grown accustomed to on his journey down here and reminiscent of home. He took several more long swallows before handing it back to the elf. “What happened to the rest of the men who attacked?”

“Well,” Katarina said, offering one of the full bowls to the other woman. “After you killed their spellster and Authril dispatched the woman responsible for your head wound, the remaining two fled.”

“Like roaches,” Authril muttered before shovelling in a spoonful of food. “Cowards wouldn’t even offer themselves up for a decent death. But at least we saw to it that one less blasted spellster isn’t going home.”

An uneasiness bubbled in his stomach. He tried to convince himself it was only because he hadn’t eaten in several days, but the way she spoke that word. Spellster. An echo of the derision of the other soldiers. One less of them. It wouldn’t bring anyone back, but it was a start in keeping more Demarn soldiers from joining the dead.

The dwarf cleared her throat. “The Udyneans have a rather different outlook on what constitutes as a good death.” She crouched before him and offered up the remaining bowl. “Sorry.” Her wide mouth twisted into a grimace. “I’m not much of a cook. If it’s any consolation, it tastes better than it looks.”

Dylan barely gave a glance to what he’d been given before shovelling great spoonfuls into his mouth. His tongue said it was porridge, if a little on the burnt side, his stomach didn’t care enough to comment.

He was a third of the way into the bowl when another question surfaced through the mindless slog of his movements. “Where did we get oats?” There’d been nothing in the way of salvageable food when they’d scoured the camp remains.

“The scouts,” Katarina replied as she turned to her own meal. “They’d other travel rations as well, perhaps enough to get us to Toptower.”

“It’s a bugger the horse ran off,” Authril muttered into her bowl.

The hedgewitch nodded. “We certainly could’ve carried a great deal more of their gear if it’d stayed, the saddlebags might’ve even held a tent, but we should be able to make do just curling up in blankets providing the fine weather holds. And if we supplement the travel rations with a little foraging, we won’t have to buy quite as much food for the journey to this tower.”

Dylan absently returned to the porridge. The concept of money was a murky one. He wasn’t a stranger to exchanging one thing for another, bartering ran rife through the tower, but he failed to see how a disc of metal carried any worth beyond alchemical, especially when it came to provisions.

Food had always been something that was just there. A part of him knew that wasn’t how it worked beyond the tower walls, but knowing a meal came only through work or money had long been another man’s concern. Now? He wasn’t sure how to hunt, but he knew a little about foraging from his old forays into the garden with Henrie. Perhaps the forest held a few of the non-toxic plants he remembered from his childhood teachings.

Authril watched him eat. She’d scraped her own bowl clean swiftly enough, but didn’t seem to be looking to procure a portion of his food like his elven friends back in the tower. “Have you ever been in a fight before today?”

“Of course,” he replied around his spoon. “I’ve been training for most of my whole life to be in the army.” Against wooden men who stood there whilst he blasted them, and people who could shield themselves from his attack. Not like this. Not even the brawl could’ve prepared him for this. “It’s what I’m out here for.”

She stretched out her hand, offering the empty bowl to the hedgewitch who managed to find a few more spoonfuls to refill it. “But you’ve never actually fought to the death.”

Had it been that obvious? Dylan shrugged, trying to maintain a nonchalant demeanour. “I never got the chance. I arrived six days ago. The day we were ambush was my first time with the scouts.”

The elf grunted. “You were fortunate,” she mumbled.

He recalled the screams of those dying. Of the heat, the scent of burning flesh coming from beneath his collar as he desperately sought for a way to defend the scouting party. Dylan lowered the bowl. The food was starting to sit less easily in his stomach. “No, I wasn’t.”

The warrior had resumed eating. He couldn’t see how she could do so and still talk about the death of her comrades. “I meant for you to be away when they attacked the main camp,” she said between chews.

Dylan shook his head, the Udynean spellster’s words sticking sharp in his mind. “They took them.” Was that why he had survived when his company hadn’t? But why not capture him when he was unconscious? The ambush should’ve left him slain or enslaved.

He ran his finger along his throat. The too-smooth patch of skin hadn’t changed over the last few days. He hadn’t scarred since gaining adept status amongst the tower healers. The wound on his side had healed perfectly, why not this?

The collar must’ve been the cause. How? Recalling what had happened when he removed the metal band rather eluded him. Not much came to mind beyond heat and pain. And light. Great arcs of it stinging his skin. That had to be what caused this scarring, forever branding him as once being leashed.

Perhaps the only reason he wasn’t with the other spellsters on his way to the Udynean slave market was because his attackers thought he’d died.

Hearing a strange rustling sound pulled him from his musing. The hedgewitch had retrieved the map and was tilting the face towards the firelight in an attempt to read it.

Dylan focused on his hand, coaxing a small ball of pure white light. It sputtered and wobbled in the air, flickering even more uncertainly until it hovered just over the dwarf’s shoulder. On the edge of his vision, he spied Authril inching away from him and the light. He frowned. She didn’t seem all that bothered by his abilities when they were fighting. Perhaps she’d not witnessed magic beyond the weaponized variety.

Smiling up at him, the hedgewitch laid the map flat on the ground and removed a slender case from one of her pouches. The burnished bronze of a compass gleamed in the combined light as she measured off the distances across the map, mumbling numbers under her breath.

Finally, she sat back. “I originally intended to travel via the roads, but now I’m not certain how safe that idea would be. However, if this map is accurate, we could reach Toptower faster anyway if we avoid the roads and travel through the forest in a more direct line. It should also reduce our chances of encountering further hostile forces.”

Authril grunted. She eyed him as he allowed the ball of light to dissipate, but said nothing further.

Katarina also swung her attention to him, but where the elf was wary, the hedgewitch’s face showed only concern. “Will you be able to keep up?”

He nodded. It’d been a trying few days stumbling through the pathless forest between camps, but he felt confident that he’d do better with rest and food.

Those hazel eyes drifted over his body, forcing him to resist the urge to squirm. The way she examined him was reminiscent of his guardian. “Perhaps we could find a replacement for your attire once we arrive at the village.”

His gaze dropped to his robe. Even without the hole in the side, the ambush and their trekking had left the hem ragged, scorched and stained. His undertunic was in no better state. “I really don’t think we can wait that long.” He’d been measured for his robe the afternoon of his arrival and had donned it the following morning.

The main camp must’ve had a dozen or so tailors under their employ. It couldn’t have taken them more than a few hours, especially if several hands joined in. For a single man and, possibly, an assistant? Perhaps two days from the time of measurements to the very last stitch.

The hedgewitch frowned. “You can’t travel for weeks as you are. Healer or not, you’ll get sick.”

He smiled. The last time any sickness had befallen him outside of his journey to the main camp, he’d been in his late teens. “If we’ve the money, I’ll buy some cloth to patch them.” If they couldn’t afford to do that, then he would have to sacrifice a section of his blanket.

“If you’re sure,” she said as she retrieved both of the bowls from him and the elf.

The small slip of cloth wrapped about her forearm caught his eye. The off-white linen was dark with dried blood. He stared at the bandage, recalling her pained cry during the fight. “You’re injured.” Dylan extended his hand, inviting her to lay her arm in his grasp. “Let me—”

“No.” Katarina clasped her hands over his. “You said you’d little magic left to give before the Udyneans attacked.”

“And I’ve slept since then.” He wasn’t certain how long, but if the sun had set, then several hours must’ve passed.

By the way the dwarf’s lips pursed and her brows knitted together, his answer wasn’t good enough. “Admittedly, I’m a little rusty with how much of a toll fighting can take on a spellster’s body. It’s been some time since the coven has given me any cause to study your people’s abilities. However, you didn’t appear to sleep all that soundly. It’s not quite as bad as it could’ve been, but if my injury still bothers you in the morning, I’ll let you see to it then. After proper rest.”

Dylan’s throat tightened at the idea of sleep, his thoughts swiftly dredging up the nightmare. His skin pebbled. He casually drew his blanket around his shoulders. It’d been the wind. Some chill breeze had slipped under his clothes via the hole and chilled him. Nothing more.

“If we’re sleeping here,” Authril said. “Then we’ll have to sort out who’s taking the first watch. I don’t fancy the idea of being asleep without one of us on guard, not when those bastards are still out there. They could be tracking us, waiting for the time we let our guard down and they can slit our throats.”

“I’ll do it,” he replied, his face steadily growing hot at the hasty way the words had fled his mouth. Trying in vain to shrug off the sensation, he continued. “Neither of you could’ve slept since I’ve been unconscious. You both should. I’ll keep an eye out for anything suspicious.” What that would be, he didn’t know. His training hadn’t exactly touched on surviving in the forest. Best bet would be to wake either of them at the slightest sound of movement.

Authril rubbed behind her ear. Those sea-green eyes narrowed at him. “I’d have to go with the dwarf on this one. You were thrashing around an awful lot. I don’t know how much rest you got. Probably best if you slept.”

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather not.” He really wasn’t certain if he’d ever be able to close his eyes without envisioning those bony hands and their creaking voices. Swallowing, he tightened his grip on the blanket. He didn’t want to find out so soon.

“Very well,” Katarina said, pinning him with a stern look. “But you wake me as soon as the moon reaches its height. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Madam Hedgewitch.” Dylan snapped off a mock salute, trying to alleviate the severity in her face. It didn’t work. “I’ll go check our perimeter whilst you two settle down.” He stood, shaking back the feeling in his legs as he wobbled his way towards the trees.

Ducking behind a particularly sturdy trunk, he made quick work of relieving himself whilst being certain his companions wouldn’t follow. He’d hadn’t been able to do something so simple without company since leaving the tower. Strange how gratifying it was to do so alone.

He circled the rest of their little clearing, weaving through the undergrowth as he kept the light of their fire in view. The flames put out more light than he would’ve expected. An easy target for someone to track.

By the time he returned to the fireside, the women had curled up on the ground, making the most of their packs and pilfered blankets. Soon, the soft rumble of a snore came from one of the women.

Dylan settled near the fire, carefully banking the coals before once more wrapping himself in the blanket. Darkness enveloped them. His heart fluttered and he rolled his gaze upwards, but the moon, when it eventually rose above the trees, was a mere sliver of light in the sky.

Stars peeked through the canopy of branches. Normally, those specks of light would invoke wanderlust. Not tonight. Everywhere he looked, the branches jutted across his viewpoint like bony hands.

“Stop it,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s all right. It was just a bad dream. You’re not trapped underground.” Just in the middle of a forest, with who knew how many predators? Whilst his haphazard sleeping couldn’t have restored the full extent of his magical ability, he felt capable of shielding them from something as banal as an animal attack.

What if his magic wasn’t enough? Authril seemed to think it a possibly of there still being Udynean soldiers out here. How likely was that? Surely, there could be but a few lost out here. A few wouldn’t be any trouble at all.

Thoughts of the attack tumbled through his mind. The first two had fallen so swiftly and yet… Well, they either were slavers or worked for them and, by his actions, they would never harm another person. They deserved the death he’d given.

A part of him had enjoyed taking their lives. Enemy or not, they were still people. Still had lives and loved ones. But it’d been so easy. Even tired and all but drained of the ability to work his magic, they’d fallen as swiftly as it was to crush a bug. Maybe his tutors back in the tower were right, they didn’t deserve to be amongst normal folk. Maybe he didn’t deserve to be anywhere.

Join us. How simple would it be to throw himself at the next threat? To fall rather than go on knowing he’d not been able to stop the attack? What if make things worse? The Seven Sisters wouldn’t look favourably upon him then. The worthy spent eternity trapped on their boat, drifting through the darkness.

His gaze swung to where the women lay, just dark lumps on the ground. There was nothing to suggest either woman was actually asleep. He shuffled to where the dwarf slept, intent on waking her as he’d agreed, before deciding against it.

Instead, he stood and, feeling his way through the darkness, halted at the side of a tree to press his forehead to the bark. He wasn’t usually the type to ask forgiveness from the gods, but it couldn’t hurt.

Dylan closed his eyes and clasped his hands over his chest. His lips moved in the silent prayer he’d spoken at every bimonthly sermon since he could talk. “I don’t know if you can hear me,” he whispered. “The priests say you don’t answer people’s prayers and you’re all probably busy judging and guiding everyone who died here, but just… Why me? Why am I still here?” He should’ve been at the main camp to help. All those lives might never had been wasted if he had just been there. “What did I do to merit saving that they didn’t?” He’d don’t nothing. Hadn’t been able to.

He waited, both hoping and dreading that, for once, the gods would answer. How long he stood leaning against the tree, he didn’t know. The passage of time came only through his aching limbs. His legs shook, tired from being rooted to the spot. Still, he waited. Just one sign. All he needed was one little sign.

Nothing came.

At last, his legs couldn’t hold him anymore. Dylan slid to his knees. He clung to the tree, his fingers digging into crevices within the bark. Anger bubbled through his veins, making a sour mixture in his gut. “What gives you the right to choose who dies?” he whispered into the bark. It wasn’t only those soldiers who’d lost their lives. There would be families waiting for loved ones to return, not knowing that they never would.

“Were we meant to fail? Was I…?” He took a deep, quivering breath as a far more insidious thought surfaced. “Was I supposed to die?” The gods hadn’t come to his aid in his nightmare. Perhaps that was meant to be his sign that he’d somehow missed his destined death. Warm wetness flowed down his cheeks to drip off his chin. He was nowhere near ready to die. “Please, tell me what I’m supposed to do now.”

The king would send more people to guard the border. Demarn would always need more people to guard against Udynea. He would be amongst them and, this time, he wouldn’t fail. He would do everything in his power to ensure this second chance at life counted. “I’ll try harder.” Every last piece of himself would become dedicated to those he travelled with. No one under his watch would succumb to the same fate as the scouting party. “I promise.”

“Dylan?”

The concern in that hushed, musical breath of his name had him rocking back to sit on his heels. Katarina. His breath shuddered through his chest. Was he not meant to wake her earlier?

Slowly, he wiped his face dry. “Sorry,” he croaked. Had he been blubbering loud enough for the woman to hear? “I didn’t mean to disturb anyone.” What of the warrior? Elves had far superior hearing than both human and dwarf. Had he woken her, too? He dared to glance over his shoulder at where Authril slept on, or so he hoped.

The hedgewitch crouched at his side. In the shadows beneath the trees, she was little more than a suggestion against the gloom. “Are you all right?”

Dylan choked back the welling huge in his chest to continue mewling like a newborn kitten. He must’ve looked quite the sight for her to ask. “I’m fine.”

Silence followed his answer. Didn’t she believe him? Probably not. He wouldn’t have either.

A hand grasped his shoulder.

He flinched, a high-pitched gasp leaving his lips, before realising it was merely Katarina. He didn’t cling to the woman’s fingers and he most certainly did not squeeze them due to any fear of her not being real.

“Come on,” she said, coaxing him to his feet. “Let’s get you back by the fire. I think I saw your blanket near Authril.” She grunted as his legs, still reluctant to bear his full weight, gave ever so slightly. “You must be exhausted. You should get some rest. Even a few hours will do some good.”

They slowly crossed the short distance from tree to where they’d made camp. She waited until he was settled by the banked fire and wrapped up in his blanket before striding off to circle the camp.

Hunched over, staring blindly at the dim suggestion of a glowing coal, he listened to her footsteps. Barely discernible from the surrounding hush of the night. Swift, too. If she hadn’t been kept back by his bumbling, she might’ve been able to reach the main camp before it was hit and raise the alarm. But she’d stayed with him. Dooming everyone.

Katarina emerged from the brush and sat next to him. “Are you truly all right?”

Dylan eyed Authril’s sleeping form. The warrior slept far heavier than any elf he’d known. But that was a good thing. He wasn’t quite ready to bare his reservations to the woman, but Katarina should be capable of keeping anything he said in confidence. “Not really,” he whispered.

“This might sound harsh, but you need sleep. Whatever thoughts you have going through your head right now won’t improve if you deprive your body of a necessary function.”

“I know,” he murmured. However, sleep came with its own problems. “I’m not sure I can.”

She shuffled closer, patting the earth between them. “Lie down and try. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Dylan did as instructed, pillowing his head on his pack. It was far bigger and more forgiving than he’d expected, no doubt stuffed with their looted rations. Sadly, the ground wasn’t as cooperative. He wriggled, trying to find a comfortable position without sacrificing the blanket’s warmth.

A hand brushed his head, freeing his face of hair, much like his guardian had done when he’d been unwell. “Be still,” Katarina murmured.

He lay there, letting her stroke his head. Humming emanated from the woman. A low, dreamy tune he’d not heard before. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift on the notes.

My listening choice seems stuck on instrumental…

New Year, New Goals

Happy 2017, everyone!

I often have writing goals in the beginning of the New Year, but they often fall by the wayside. Here’s hoping this year isn’t any different…

 

2017 Goals

Finish In Pain and Blood. Seriously now, this sucker is 90% done, has 24 chapters to complete and about 23k to go into those chapters.
Finish Dark One’s Bride. This is just waiting on IPaB to end so I can give it my full attention. I’ve a few chapters to write and some more to re-write.
Layout how And the World Crumbled will play out. Being an addition to IPaB, it better stay a damn short story.
Get down that unnamed short story about the weird guys knocking at the woman’s house whilst being after her little girl.
Check out Mapmaker. It’s likely as bad I remember, but it’s also short and languishing in my HD, begging for a good editing run.
Read more. The amount of books I read last year was pitiful.

 

Man, I feel exhausted just looking at that.

#RainbowSnippets – In Pain and Blood

[image error]Yup, I’m back with teases of In Pain and Blood.

As always, if you want the raunchier chapters, as well as the ordinary ones earlier, then consider signing up for my spellster series exclusive newsletter.

Rainbow Snippets is a Facebook Group where people post six sentence pieces of their LGBTQ+ novels.

Blurb: When a routine inspection goes awry, Dylan is left unleashed and alone. Afraid he’ll become prey for the King’s Hounds, he struggles to make his way back to the only safety he’s ever known. Or is it?

This one continues from last fortnight’s snippet…

Frowning, he pushed the man aside and carried on down the stairs.

“Dylan, stop.” Those long fingers wrapped around his wrist, a steady pull keeping him from the entrance. The elf really was stronger than he looked. “There’s no one here that we can help. And if someone hid down here, we would’ve heard them by now. You don’t need to see what became of the rest.”

Do follow the link above, or check out the Snippet Sunday Folk, to see other snippets.

It Never Rains

But, oh, how it pours.

Today, I’ve just returned from the vet having retrieved our mini black panther after his second visit in such a short time. Just an abscess on his haunch (he likes to face down the local rabbits and brought home a bunny the night we noticed the abscess).

We try to keep his travelling to a minimal… because he gets car sick. And normally, he’s good. The boy’s pushing eleven and this, along with two other visits (the one before being a removal of a tooth, then a muscle relaxant for his neck), have been the extent of his trips for some years.

Of course, vet bills are expensive at the worst of times, for it to come less than two weeks before Christmas? *sigh* Raiding my dear girl’s savings account was our only recourse the time of his tooth extraction and it was the same with this. Paying her back is going to extend into June.

 

And I’ve an upcoming hospital checkup appointment…

In Pain and Blood – Chapter Ten

[image error]So, in chapter nine, Dylan discovered the enemy has attacked the main camp and the only place to head for is home…

Remember, you can get these chapters, and all the R-rated ones, straight into your email by signing up here.

If you want to read the story in a little friendlier format, you can find all chapters on Wattpad and Inkitt.

Chapter Ten

 

They spent the better part of the afternoon rifling through ashes and the dead in search of anything that could be of use in their journey to Toptower. The camp remains offered up little beyond what Authril had managed to scrape together in the large tent, which was one of the many things they would need to leave behind. Luck had gifted them with a single waterskin, but food was a seemingly elusive commodity.

Hopefully, their haul would be enough to boost their supplies as well as procure a more suitable canvas shelter in the village. The weather had been agreeable thus far in not dousing them, but he’d already had his taste of travelling in the rain on his journey down here. He didn’t fancy sleeping in it as well.

“Are we set?” Katarina enquired of them. Already, the woman carried one of the three small crude packs she’d fashioned from bits of canvas. She handed him another of the packs. “I would like to put this place a few hours behind us, just in case there are any Udynean stragglers.”

“Give me a moment and I will be,” the elf replied.

The muffled scrape of metal sliding over metal had Dylan turning as he secured the straps over his shoulders.

Authril was in the process of buckling her breastplate on. Smaller pieces of armour lay atop the shield rest at her feet. Apart from the helmet, the bits looked decidedly like they belonged on limbs.

“You’re bringing all that with you?”

The warrior arched a brow at him. “Well… yes?” She nudged several bits of armour with her boot. “I’m not planning on tramping through the forest in full plate if that’s what you’re thinking. I won’t slow us down. This…” The elf thumped her breastplate. “This’ll protect the important stuff if we’re attacked.” She moved on to donning her greaves. “The rest is all leather and padding. Danny liked us to be protected, but agile. After all, someone’s got to keep your innards where they should be.” The vambraces were next, followed swiftly by her sword belt and helmet. Those sea-green eyes glared at him from the shadow of the brim. “Or not, if you choose to cross us.”

“If that had ever been my intention, I wouldn’t have wasted energy healing you.” And he would need to conserve all he had left on the off chance that the hedgewitch was right about stragglers. Between the trek here, the healing and the shortage of food, he’d precious little left to give.

“You’ve still got enough in you to walk until sundown, though?” Authril asked as she shouldered the last of the packs and hefted her shield. “I’d rather not have to carry your soft arse through the forest because you’ve fainted.” Although she was of average height for an elf, around level with his shoulders, the addition of armour did little to bulk her appearance. Nevertheless, Dylan could well imagine her being capable of lifting him.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” He was by no means as fit as either woman, but he could handle a few hours of walking before they made camp. From here, the road ran downhill. An easy task. It would flatten out before long, but the way forward would still be better than the forest floor he’d been stumbling over for the past two days. Sleep would see him capable of more come the next day.

“Good,” the warrior replied. “Because I’d like to get you back where you belong as quickly as possible.”

Katarina halted at his side, shrugging her pack into a more comfortable position. “Then we’d best be on our way if we’re to find a suitable place off the road to camp before sunset.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t think you have to push yourself.”

“I won’t slow us down.” The sooner he reached the tower, the sooner he’d be able to return and make the Udyneans pay. Dylan turned from the woman towards the gap in the trees. The soft crunch of footsteps caught his ear as his travelling companions followed at a casual and firm pace.

He forced his gaze to remain steadfast on that one section as he strode though the camp. If he didn’t, then it wandered, settling on what he didn’t want to see.

The burnt remains weren’t as numerous here as at the fore. That meant more corpses like the ones back on the path. Only now, the birds had started appearing. He could see the flutter of piebald wings just on the edge of his vision, and above, the brown and white-speckled body of a falcon circled. Ignoring them was far harder than he’d expected. Each new movement tempted his eye and tricked his thoughts into court the possibility of their being an impending threat.

Dylan took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. The stench he’d been carefully trying to avoid thinking about for the last few hours invaded in nostrils. Swallowing back the bile sliding up his stomach, he pressed on. If the enemy was around, they wouldn’t bother with picking through the bloated bodies of the dead.

Their little trio were the only people alive out here.

Besides, Authril said the Udyneans had all headed back west whereas their passage would take them on a comparatively straight easterly route. And once they’d reached Toptower, it was on to… Well, he couldn’t quite recall the place they’d passed through on his way down here, but he knew their first stop. He could consult the map once they’d arrived at the village.

They’d almost cleared the camp remains when a figure far larger than a mere bird emerged from the forest shadows. He halted, peering up ahead. Slowly, the figure became the more defined form of a horse and rider. Someone who had been away when the attack happened? One of the army’s messengers, perhaps?

On his left, Katarina gasped and dropped behind the shredded remains of a tent. At the same time, he caught the warrior reaching for her sword. Dylan didn’t waste time asking what their superior eyesight had seen, he flung himself next to the hedgewitch and threw up a barrier large enough to encompass them all.

Crouching, Authril motioned them to shift somewhere off to her left. “We need to find proper cover.”

“Don’t move,” Dylan muttered out the corner of his mouth. “I’ve got us shielded. It’ll keep us safe from mundane attacks, but if you take so much as single step back then you risk being outside that protection.” It was possible for him to encompass them all whilst on the move, but not adequately enough for his liking. Staying in one spot afforded him the chance to keep the barrier large and strong.

The women rolled their eyes upward. Did they spot the faint ripple his defence caused in the air? It took some concentration to keep the usual translucent purple sheen from the barrier’s surface, but it appeared relatively invisible to his eyes.

Authril shook her head and slunk across the rubble to lie beside him. “We’ll be spotted if we stay here much longer.”

He frowned. If they moved, the rider would sight them far sooner. “It’s one man.” The three of them could handle a single attacker, even if that man turned out to be a spellster. Still, perhaps luck was on their side and it was an ally. Either way, they could certainly use the horse.

“No, it’s not.” Even as the hedgewitch spoke, other shapes emerged from the shadows.

Dylan’s hopes plummeted as he watched them advance. Man and woman alike, they wore the same armour as the scouts they’d evaded between the dwarven ruin and the front line. Even the rider was attired in the same mottled green and grey colours.

Seeing they weren’t moving, Authril further flattened herself on the ground. She peered around the rim of her shield to glare at the encroaching group only to duck back swearing under her breath. “Staying put is a really bad idea. What if they decide to wait us out? How long can you keep this barrier up?”

“Long enough,” he replied, unable to tear his gaze from the group. After everything he’d seen, everything he’d been through, he wasn’t about to let this lot walk away. Dylan scanned those surrounding the rider. There were more than the last scouting party. Nine in all. The rider had to be a spellster. He’d be harder to take down but, with Authril’s aid, not impossible. “Just be ready.”

The elf’s orange brows lowered in a definite scowl. “For what?”

Katarina clasped his shoulder before he could speak. “It seems we’ve been spotted.” Already, her dagger was out. He didn’t see what use it would be against these men.

The group hadn’t stopped, but they’d certainly slowed their pace. Those on foot chattered between themselves and the mounted man, one of them pointing in Dylan’s direction. Another nocked her bow and loosed an arrow.

The shaft hit Dylan’s barrier and shattered. Katarina flinched, pressing close to him. He caught Authril sucking in a hissing breath.

“Sir!” the woman called over her shoulder. “It’s another leashed one!”

The rider urged his mount closer. He leant forward in the saddle. Curious dark eyes peered at them from beneath a pair of thick brows. “Really? And here his lordship said he’d caught them all.”

Caught? Not slain outright like so many others, but taken to suffer a worse fate at the hands of these monsters. Did they mean all of them? There’d supposedly been only thirty of them. Hard to believe every single one had succumbed to non-lethal attacks. He scanned those surrounding the rider, desperately hoping his original assumption was wrong. But no, he’d been right the first time, they were all Udynean.

If any of the other leashed spellsters were still alive, then they were now on their way to the Udynea Empire’s slave market.

“If you drop your barrier,” the rider said, a little louder as he switched to speaking Demarn, “and surrender without quarrel, I guarantee your life will be spared.”

Authril answered him in a string of curses.

The man straightened in his saddle. “I don’t know why I bother.” The rider turned his horse away, waving his hand as if shooing a fly. “Kill the elf. It’ll be more trouble than it’s worth to capture it.”

“It?” Authril growled, clearly able to understand Udynean enough to know she’d been slighted. She sprang to her feet, keeping crouched even as she drew her sword, perhaps conscious of Dylan’s shield shimmering a few inches from her head. “Can I get through this blasted barrier?”

“I would think so,” Katarina replied when Dylan didn’t. “And you’d find yourself riddled with arrows the moment you do.”

Grunting, the warrior remained in place, waiting like the tower mousers would for their prey to near. “It,” she muttered under her breath. “I’ll show them it. You are planning to attack, aren’t you?” This question was also directed at him.

Dylan didn’t answer. All the pain and fear, the sense of helplessness, the anger… It boiled through his veins to charge the very air. It wasn’t enough for them to have already taken all these lives, they had to take everyone’s. All in the pursuit of another’s greed.

No more.

He raised his hands and focused everything he could spare on the advancing men. Bolts of lightning jumped from his fingers to strike them down. Their bodies jerked and flopped much like his opponents back in the tower. Unlike with his sparring partners of old, he didn’t stop his assault until smoke began to leak from their mouths.

Arrows bloomed around them, ricocheting off his barrier. A few made their way through the weaker points, albeit, sluggishly. By the time the fletching passed through, the arrows had lost all momentum.

This didn’t appear to be enough for Authril. She crouched behind her shield, dragging the hedgewitch down with her. “I thought you said this damn barrier would keep us safe?”

Dylan barely heard her. His focus was shattering, just like the first arrows. He allowed the two lifeless bodies to fall, waiting until his heart stopped hammering quite so hard before turning his attention to their remaining enemies. How many more could he take out before the barrier failed completely? Certainly not the whole seven.

His gaze swung to the rider. That man would be the greater threat to his companions. But taking on a Udynean spellster, one who was no doubt powerful and well rested, wouldn’t be easy if Dylan hadn’t spent the last few days tramping through the forest and healing people.

“Hold your fire!” the rider bellowed. “I want the leashed one alive! Let’s not have a repeat of last week’s attack.”

Dylan frowned. Last week? That’d been when he first arrived when there’d been suspiciously few attacks. He would’ve recalled any mention of a spellster— The infirmary. One of the leashed ones had been amongst the scouts. She’d died from her injuries before the survivors could return to the front line.

They still think I’m leashed. And why not? Even in Udynea, where the infitialis collars were for slaves and prisoners, he doubted there were any reports of a leashed one removing their collars. And if they wanted him alive, that meant they’d target his companions, the warrior specifically if they were aware of Katarina’s hedgewitch status. He could use that knowledge to predict their actions. Like right now, the remaining six on foot were fanning out, looking to flank them.

He adjusted his shield, seeking to ensure every inch was strong enough to repel all weapons. His magic responded slowly, the barrier flickering with the threat of failing altogether. “We can’t let them draw this out,” he muttered over his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve enough energy for much.”

“Understood,” Authril said as she got to her feet. “I’ve never fought beside a spellster. Do you have a plan?”

“Leave the rider to me. Concentrate on the others. When they get close, I’m dropping the barrier.” It wasn’t ideal, but it he needed all the energy he could muster to be any match against the Udynean. “Be ready.”

“I am,” the elf replied.

“Where do I fit into this?” Katarina asked.

“You’re a hedgewitch.” And their enemies were close enough to make out her attire. “I can’t ask you to risk your life with this. It would be best if you found somewhere safe to wait this out.”

She mumbled something under her breath. Judging by the tone, it wasn’t civil. “They used my people’s ruins as bait,” the dwarf snarled. “I’m not hiding this time.”

“Then you better stay close to me,” Authril said.

Katarina gave the other woman a grim smile and drew her dagger. “Don’t worry about me. This isn’t my first fight.” She turned her attention to him. “Are you able to do that lightning trick again? Take out another few?”

He shook his head. If he’d had enough rest, then it’d be no different to the brawl in terms of strain, but now? “One, maybe.” Providing they fell swiftly. He’d need to conserve much of his energy for the rider and hope it was enough.

“Doesn’t matter,” Authril said as she bounced from foot to foot. “I’ll take them.”

The soldiers were close enough now for their bows to be useless. They advanced with swords drawn.

“Now?” the warrior asked, the eagerness in her voice sharp enough to bite.

“Now.” He let the shield drop and aimed a fireball at the closest enemy, cursing as the woman dove out of the way. So much for that tactic. His attention swung to the rider. The man merely sat there, content to watch his lackeys fight.

Authril’s advance fared better. She ran at the group, screaming and sending the soldiers in all directions. Her blade sliced through the sword arm of one before her shield bashed in the woman’s face. This seemed to give the remaining three grounds to pause as they circled her like wary dogs.

Dylan frowned. He hastily counted the soldiers around the warrior. Four in all.

But hadn’t there been six left?

Movement danced on the edge of his vision. He turned his head, searching, when he spied another of Authril’s attackers lunged for her, aiming to attack the woman’s flank. Before a warning could pass his lips, the warrior had swung about to block her attacker. A few moments later and the man fell back, clutching at the slimy tubes spilling from his belly.

The rider straightened in his saddle and bellowed, “Oh, for—!” He kneed his mount towards them. Lightning shot from his hand in one enormous bolt.

Instinct had Dylan flinging up a shield between Authril and the rider. The barrier shuddered, but held against the onslaught. That was his cue. He prayed he’d enough left in him to defeat the man. Drawing in a deep breath, Dylan threw a fireball at the man, letting it explode ahead of the horse’s path.

The horse reared, throwing its rider.

The man staggered to his feet. He glared at his mount as the horse thundered into the forest. “You little shit,” he snarled. A cloud of dust kicked up as the man flung his hands forward.

Dylan braced himself, barely having the strength to shield the blast running through the air. It hit low, almost knocking him off his feet. He righted his balance with far more difficulty than it should’ve taken and altered the barrier from a sphere to a bell-like shape. “Get back!” he ordered Katarina. The last thing he wanted was to have the hedgewitch in the radius of the man’s attack should the shield fail.

There was no reply. He could only hope she’d heard him and obeyed.

A figure marched through the dust, too tall to be the warrior.

The man halted none too far away. “Why won’t you have the good sense to go down, you backwater-bred cretin?” he sneered.

Dylan flexed his fingers. How he wished he’d the energy to pound the smug bastard into the ground. For now, he had to wait and see what else the man would throw at him. Hopefully, the man would reveal a weakness he could exploit. “Are dust clouds and talk all you have to offer, Udynean?”

The man’s lips twisted smugly.

Dylan barely caught the man’s hands twitch before another blast rocked his shield. He swung the full force of his barrier to the fore as a barrage of iridescent specks hit, constructs much like the spear back in the arena. As small as a wasp’s sting, they hissed as they struck and fizzled against his barrier.

“You’re no match for a properly trained spellster,” the man snarled, closing the gap between them with each word until he was but a few paces away.

Dylan peered at the area directly around the man, eventually spotting the faint translucent shimmer of a shield. No telling how strong it was. Likely stronger than he could manage to penetrate in his current state.

“Just come quietly,” the man continued, seemingly oblivious. “I’d rather not have to report you joined these pathetic fools in death.” He swept his arm wide, indicating the entire camp. “I might even ask my lord to let me keep you, if you co-operate.”

Dylan’s gaze slid to the corpses behind the Udynean. Red blazed across his mind, the searing heat of fury reborn. So many left broken and burnt by men like this one. Had those monsters stood with the same smile as they took all these lives? For what? A few leashed slaves?

He wordlessly wrapped his own barrier around the man, maintaining the finest of balances in keeping it invisible. Dylan tightened the shield, forsaking translucency for density. “You take pleasure in burning them alive?” he hissed. “Let’s see how you like roasting.”

Focusing on the air trapped inside, he allowed a trickle of magic, the small puff of heat from an unformed fireball, to bloom. It should’ve been harmless, naught but a mild concentration of warm air. But trapped inside, with the small flicker of heat he’d set off feeding on itself and growing hotter with each second… All he had to do was keep the barrier in place.

Sneering, the man pushed out with his shield, but Dylan was ready for him and the barrier held firm. His skin, originally a pale olive tone, turned red. The man’s eyes bulged. He put more force behind his actions.

Dylan gritted his teeth and rammed the remaining scrap of his magic into the hazy heat blazing away inside the shimmering ball of his shield.

A scream Dylan couldn’t hear tightened the man’s throat as he collapsed to his knees. The air had become too hot for his lungs, scorching the soft tissue just as it blistered the man’s face and hands.

It was surreal, watching as the man died by his actions. It wouldn’t be long now. A few more minutes and he could be certain that this Udynean would never harm anyone ever again. Should he not feel gratified in knowing that?

Behind him, he caught Katarina cry out in pain.

The other two soldiers. They’d wounded her. Fatally?

Dylan jerked his head to one side, a part of him pulled by the call. But he couldn’t dare shift his full attention from the Udynean spellster lest the man managed to slip free at the last second.

Could he send a pulse through the earth like he’d done in the arena? Did have the strength? After he’d finished with this man, perhaps. Without knowing what Katarina faced, any action could work against the hedgewitch far too easily. He’d just have to hope she was able to stand her ground for a little bit more.

“Watch out!” Katarina screamed.

Something hit the back of his head and the world turned black for but a moment. He staggered forward. Lights danced across this vision, dizzying him. Intense heat blasted at his face. The barrier had fallen.

Pain lanced his side. The searing agony of lightning haphazardly channelled. Instinct lifted his hand and had him throw everything behind the flames that sprang from his fingers.

The brief wail of a victim hit his ears. He sorely hoped it’d been the right target. Dylan lowered his hand and stood there, his chest heaving. The wound on his side was healing, sluggishly. He shook his head, trying to clear his eyesight. That proved to be the wrong action as his legs gave, dumping him face-first onto the ground.

 

The world was grey and black. Charred. Ash drifted across the endless plain, kicked up by the bitter wind. He covered his mouth with a sleeve. His eyes watered as the powdery grit blew over him, but he refused to let them close.

Was this the afterlife? He took a few shambling steps. Where was the river of judgement? The Seven Sisters? The priests said there was supposed to be a boat to carry him to paradise. He spun about, searching. There wasn’t even a trickle of water.

What if the boat didn’t appear? What if the lieutenant was right and his magic left him tainted? He’d be stuck wandering through this lifeless mockery for all eternity.

There was a cave in the distance, naught but a suggestion of darkness amongst the hillside. How far, he didn’t know, but it seemed to be his best chance. Pulling his sleeve tighter around his face, he began trudging in that direction.

He’d barely taken a dozen steps when the ground heaved.

The scorched dirt beneath his feet splintered, flinging clumps of crumbling rock in all directions. He scrambled for solid land, raking at the earth. His fingers found a tree root, thin and strong. He clung to it with one hand, pawing at the ground around him for a second handhold.

Bony hands clawed through the cracks. They grasped his robe, hauling him deeper into the sinkhole. Their weight on his clothes grew heavier with each second. Stitching groaned, threatening to break. Already, his boots were gone, swallowed by the churning ground.

The root he clung to so ferociously bent. He dug into the sod surrounding it, seeking to unearth more. His fingers carved out great trenches, but there was nothing to be had.

“Join us,” dusty voices echoed from the very air.

Faces broke through the earth. Black and bleeding. Melted. They stared at him with empty and weeping sockets. “You belong here,” their fleshless jaws creaked. “Down amongst the dead. Embrace the earth. Join us in the ashes of your failure.”

The clammy coldness of the earth greeted his legs. He was torn from the side of the hole. Bony arms wrapped around his chest, chilling his heart.

“He has joined us,” a jawless face hissed into his ear.

All around, the walls began to cave in. Mud, thick and slimy, covered his torso. Much of the grasping hands had fallen away, only the corpse on his back remained.

Above, the sky stretched out in an endless sea of grey clouds. He raised a hand in supplication, but the mud continued to pour in. It was at his neck now and climbing. He fought to keep his head above the ever-rising dirt, spluttering as watery gloop filled his mouth.

This couldn’t be it. It just couldn’t. He wasn’t ready to go. Not like this. There was still so much he needed to see, so many things he hadn’t experienced.

Muddy water trickled down his throat, clogging his nose. He gagged. Clumps of dirt caked his eyelids, sealing him into darkness.

My listening choice remained on instrumental. Two this time…

Weekend Writing Warriors – #8sunday

[image error]November’s over, you all know what that means…

I’m back with teases of In Pain and Blood. As always, if you want the raunchier chapters, as well as the ordinary ones earlier, then consider signing up for my spellster series exclusive newsletter.

For now, my dear Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday Folk, here’s another teaser.

Blurb: When a routine inspection goes awry, Dylan is left unleashed and alone. Afraid he’ll become prey for the King’s Hounds, he struggles to make his way back to the only safety he’s ever known. Or is it?

This one is getting near the middle of the story…

Motioning for him to stay put, Tracker flung the door wide open. The boom of it hitting the wall echoed into the stillness and had Dylan’s heart racing. There were no cries. Not of anger or fear.

Tracker had frozen in the doorway, the hand that had grasped his sword hilt so fiercely now hung limp at his side. Cold shock flickered across his face, there for a heartbeat.

Dylan dared to take another step down. “What—?”

In one mad burst of energy, the man whirled and slammed Dylan against the wall. “There’s no one here. We should check the other levels.”

Don’t forget to check out the other excerpts.

#NaNoWriMo The Ending

It was January of last year when In Pain and Blood reared its head. I’d 27k down by the time NaNoWriMo 2015 rocked up. I entered, naively believing that it would perhaps have another few thousand words afterward. That maybe it would reach the heights of 100k.

Yet here I am, with a story that’s 50,000 more words heavier. I started this month with 155k already written. I believed I might be able to just meet the goal. I thought that, surely, I could finish In Pain and Blood. My projected word count said I’d 54k left and… Well, I might’ve done another 50k in a month and won NaNoWriMo 2016, but I’m sure as heck not as close to being done writing this story as I thought. Those extra chapters might have something to do with it, as does having the average word count of each completed chapter be around 4500 words.

Let’s see how long it takes me to finish up that projected 27k still kicking about.

#NaNoWriMo The Final Slog

So the fourth week has gone by and, as you can see, I am very close to completing this year’s NaNoWriMo. Yup. Even though I’ve been battling quite a few ordeals alongside my characters (and my little kitty is still MIA :(), I’m almost at the big 50k.

Over those last few weeks, I’ve written tavern brawls and foursomes, dancing and kisses, battles and broken hearts. I’ve discovered a few new things about my characters. Dylan can sketch a forge pretty decently. The man who led Authril’s mercenary company has a mother who owns an inn in Toptower. And, for all of Tracker’s bemoaning about forever winding up in fights every time he stays in a tavern, he’s the one who tends to start them (the frick, dude?).

I also found the reasoning behind a rather important piece of the plot. Yes, my dears, this behemoth of a story chock with plenty of erotic chapters has a plot beyond a certain person getting into someone’s pants. I’m sure I left it under the couch somewhere…

Skipping over 200k

200000 / 230000 (86.96%)

[image error] Yup, In Pain and Blood has done a runner and hopped over the 200k mark like nobody’s business. I’m near the end of November having done 45k and still have 30k to go. Hopefully, it doesn’t become too much more. If I hit much higher than the projected 230k I’m currently aimed at, you’ll likely hear me screaming all over the world.

It’s supposed to be a swords and sorcery novel about a bisexual dude getting from A to B with fighting and angst in between full-on erotic scenes and romance…

Why did it have to go epic on me?