Gull lets go in RAGING SEA Ch 6/Sc 4 #amwriting #Arthurverse #ASMSG

Graphic overlay (c)2015 by Kim Headlee. Summer is traditionally my least productive time as a writer—ahead of the Thanksgiving/ Christmas corridor and snow days— because the kids are home, along with their father the high school math teacher, and everyone wants Mom to do something! Not that I mind, really, but my Thanksgiving I celebrate this coming week, when everyone goes back to one school or another. :)

That said, I am pleased to report that I have been pushing through on writing new material for Raging Sea… clear up to the spot in my outline where I must consider a major rewrite because I had decided to switch up who was located where. 

Ah, the joys of writing a series arc!

Posting these excerpts every week has been instrumental in keeping my plow going, and if you derive a mote of enjoyment from reading them, I consider it a win-win.

Today's installment is a scene I added recently because I realized that Gull needed to say goodbye just as much as Angusel needed to hear it from him. As a parent whose youngest child is now in college, I can so relate to how Gull feels: pride, sadness, anxiety, hope. It can be gut-wrenching to let your child spread his wings, but learning to fly solo is of course essential… for the parent as well as the child.

Regarding whether Gull and Angusel meet again in this story, you will just have to stay tuned. (Ain't I a stinker? ;-)

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 | Sc 2-B | Sc 2-C |
Chapter 5: Sc 1-A | Sc 1-B | Sc 1-C | Sc 2 | Sc 3 | Sc 4-A | Sc 4-B |
Chapter 6: Sc 1 | Sc 2 | Sc 3 |
Raging Sea Chapter 6, Scene 4©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
Gull stood beside Elian on the dock, facing Angusel. Behind the lad, who was dressed in his armor with his sack slung over one shoulder, the Breatanach fleet commander’s vessel was swarming with men adjusting the rigging, stowing the last crates and barrels, manning the oars, and preparing to cast off. Angusel’s sack had a smooth bulge where his helmet lodged. A blindfolded Stonn already had been loaded and secured to the rail amidships, with a crewman stationed nearby to steady him. The fleet commander stood at the stern, conversing with his steersman, though now and again he directed his gaze toward the dock. The rising sun bathed the warship and its occupants in a hopeful glow.

Stonn whinnied, and Angusel tossed a glance over his shoulder.

This was it.

“I’m surprised you’re not coming with me this time,” Angusel said.

Gull grunted. His decision had surprised him a mite too. But it had been the right one to make. The lad needed to take this step himself. He glanced at Elian, resplendent in his spotless legion battle-gear for the first time in the gods alone knew how long, and grinned. “The auld boar needs me more than ye do now.”

“Right,” Elian said, moving his head as if to measure the sun’s position. “And our new recruits need both of us to whip their soft, sorry arses into a force Arthur can use.” He thrust out his sword hand, and he and Angusel grasped forearms. “God’s speed and strength to you, son.”

After giving the centurion’s arm a squeeze, Angusel released it and rendered the legion salute. “And you, sir.”

Pride radiated from the centurion’s countenance as he returned the gesture.

Blinking, Angusel stepped close to Gull and touched the gold lion brooch where it held Gull’s new scarlet cloak in place. Being Elian’s civilian assistant for troop training did not entitle him to wear the legion’s dragon badge—even if he had wanted to—but the Manx Cohort commander had given him an officer’s cloak to signify that his orders carried full authority.

“I’ll keep the wee golden beastie safe for ye, lad.” Gull drew his son into an embrace that had to be far too brief. Angusel returned the embrace with strength that no longer surprised his father. As they parted, he couldn’t resist adding, “Do not forget to keep eyes on your opponent. Always.”

Angusel swiped his cheek with the back of a hand and grinned. “Watch me fight again, Father, and then see if you still need to remind me.”

“Ye can count on it, mo brogach,” Gull replied.

His son gave a final, brave nod to him and Elian, turned with a swirl of his legion officer’s cloak, and mounted the gangplank.

Gull sensed the centurion depart quickly thereafter and knew he must follow soon, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the dock until after the ship had cast off and his son’s receding form, all but eclipsed by the rail and his warhorse, had become naught more than a sparkling speck against the deep blue sea.

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Note: Mo brogach is a Caledonaiche endearment meaning "my sturdy lad," derived from Scottish Gaelic. When said to a female, it becomes mo brogag.

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