Angusel shows Gull how he really feels in RAGING SEA CH 4/SC 2B #amwriting #Arthurverse

Pictish stone graphic overlay
(c)2015 by Kim HeadleeTeen angst is a tricky thing to describe in fiction, especially when it's a young man having issues with his father. Life with my husband and our firstborn, however, gifted me with many scenes upon which to draw for today's selection.

For the record, my husband and son did survive those dreaded teenage years, with me mediating... though there were times when I wasn't at all sure what the outcome would be. And they're still communicating, a decade later, which is always a good sign.

Previous excerpts of Raging Sea  Chapter 1: Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 |Chapter 2: Scene 1-A | Scene 1-B | Scene 2 |Chapter 3: Sc 1-A | Sc 1-B | Scene 2 | Sc 3-A | Sc 3-B |
Chapter 4: Sc 1-A | Sc 1-B | Sc 2-A |
Raging Sea Chapter 4, Scene 2-B©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
Elian scrutinized Angusel for what seemed like an eon. What he sought, Angusel hadn’t a clue. Nor did he care. Finally, Elian uttered a snort and turned his glare upon Gull.

“And you, dead Pict who seems to have made a miraculous recovery.” Gull grimaced but held his ground. “Explain yourself.”

The “dead Pict” drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This . . . matter be between the lad and me.”

“Vacca cac. Any matter that degrades the performance of my trainee is by definition not a private one. In all these weeks, the unanswered question of what happened in your past has hung like a double-edged sword between you two.”

“Centurion Elian, I don’t want—”

Elian cut Angusel off with his upraised fist, still regarding Gull. “To hell with what he wants. You will give me that answer. Now.”

“As ye will, Elian.” Rubbing the Alban Lion on his left arm, Gull gazed skyward as if searching the heavens for his next words. He leveled his gaze upon Angusel. “Ye know how your mother can be. Flirtatious, I mean.”

Who knew better than Angusel? He had watched her throw herself at every eligible man in Breatein as well as Caledon after her consort, his father, had been declared dead. The list included Arthur the Pendragon at the treaty-signing feast, and what an embarrassing display that had been to watch. Not that Angusel would ever share anything negative about his mother with the man who had caused her to sob over his mangled “corpse” for days.

As he struggled to form a reply, Elian broke in with, “Wait. His mother is—”

“Alayna nic Agarra, chieftainess and exalted heir-bearer of Clan Alban. I was chieftain and her consort,” Gull said.

“You still are, you maggot-riddled armpit of a dead, rotting mongrel!”

Elian said, “Ainchis Sal! Guard your tongue!”

“I am?” Sheer astonishment dominated Gull’s tone.

“She never chose anyone else after . . . you. You! Not that she’d ever take you back again, after all the suffering you caused her.” Us. Angusel clenched his fists, shouldered past Elian, and stalked closer to Gull, regretting that his battle sword lay in the building behind the man. “And even if she did entertain the idea, it would be over my corpse.” He turned toward the sea, fists on hips, face tilted skyward, eyes screwed shut, and shouted, “I apologize to all dead dogs! This worthless excuse of a man isn’t even fit for your company!”

Gull’s fist caught him under the jaw, sending him staggering. He flailed his arms, trying to keep his balance, but couldn’t get his legs under him. His battle-ravaged shoulder crashed against the shed’s wall with eye-popping force, sending needles of light splintering across his vision. He tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth and spat. It only strengthened his urge to kill.

***

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