Thursday, February 4, 2016

The King's Challenge #200 and #201

The 200th episode ... and more!

TKC 200 and 201

It rains for two days. We plod on, making steady progress. At night we huddle together for warmth, although there is not much of it. Another day is spent in traversing a waterlogged landscape under an overcast sky. The wind has a bite; everyone soon shivers in clothes that refuse to dry out.

Kay glances up periodically and I know what he is thinking. We will not see the ships arrive if cloud hides the heavens from view. He does not like it. I do not either.

We have not mentioned that threat to the Messengers, because there may be Glonu among them. We have revealed the slavery system Arc operates under to explain why going there is not the best plan.

On the fifth day the plains burst into riotous colour. Under a blue sky, every seed and bulb waiting for the dryness to end erupts into flower. What a display! I am awed and humbled … and grateful beyond measure for this sign of incredible beauty. Life is definitely worth living. I am not alone in this. The children laugh again and whenever we stop they clamber down to create pretty posies, which they then clutch close as we travel onward. The adults smile more.

The plateau grows in height to the east, a decided dark line on the horizon ever higher. Now we are able to see where it begins to descend, and Kay corrects our course slightly to aim for that point.

On the sixth day the cliffs, boulders, scree slopes, and darkened holes of potential caves become obvious. We will be there by mid-morning on the morrow.

On that same sixth day, however, something changes and it has nothing to do with the landscape.

Kay has kept the Messengers close and therefore the sudden and strange gyrations among them cannot be ignored, hidden or remain unnoticed.

Seven men and one woman stiffen in their saddles, stretching upright as if their spines are being pulled into the atmosphere. Arms flail upwards as well, and heads roll back with a neck-snapping sound. Their horses begin to buck.

“Get back!” Kay shouts at those closest, and edges his mount to the side as well. He turns to find me and gestures me closer.

“What is this?” I whisper as I join him.

“The ships are here,” he states. “They are reacting to the Glonu call.”

By the stars! My mouth hangs open. Eyes wide, I watch them. Abruptly their heads return to a normal position … and then they look at us.

“Go!” Kay screams, swirling his hand in the air in the onward sign. “Head for the caves!”

A thunderous sound erupts as men and women urge their horses into full gallop.

“Siri, go!” Kay shouts.

I go, but I do not like it. Kay is on his own with seven Glonu now aware of their fate. A hundred paces removed, I halt my horse and look back.

Kay has drawn his sword and holds it ahead of him, while controlling his mounts with his other hand tight on the reins. He cannot do this alone! I am about to race back to his side when two men gallop past me. One is a Messenger – Hal, in fact – and the other is a young man I know as ‘Sleepy’. The women are always ragging him about his need for sleep; I do not know his real name.

They race to Kay’s side with weapons out.

It is ugly. Death in this manner is ugly. While the Glonu are still stiffened in their saddles, our three move in and slaughter them. Bodies topple to the wildflower earth, accusing in their stillness. Sleepy then rounds up the horses, his face without expression.

Closing in, I hear Kay say, “We must bury them or they will rise again.”

Hal slowly nods. “This is why you said nothing. They are Glonu? Of course they are and you needed to know that first.” He turns to look at me as I slide of my horse. “The ships have arrived?”

Standing amid death upon a field recently awakened to life, Kay and I stare at the Messenger.



The Writer's Rule Book?


Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Review - Four Days with Hemingway's Ghost





The King's Challenge #198 and #199

TKC 198 and 199


There are five hundred of us for four hundred spare horses. The children will ride with an adult each and some of the lighter women will double up. It means, as the sun climbs into the sky, we are all mounted as we set out.

I know I am not the only one relieved to be off my feet. I shy away from the sobering fact that only five hundred made it out of Arc again, when one hundred thousand plateau dwellers went in. And more from the west.

Around midday the heavens begin to darken as clouds roll in. It is still the wet season, given the size of the rivers. Although not much rain usually falls out here, that is about to change, by all appearances. A downpour or two will soon drench us.

As the air grows ever moister, a woman nudges her mount into position alongside me. “Alyssa?” I murmur. I have not seen much of the noblewoman since we entered Arc. She kept away from the main discussions, not doubt to spare Lyra’s feelings. I wonder now if she knows Damin and Lyra are wed. “Where is Emily?” Her sister is ever by her side, but I do not see her.

“Hello, Siri. Emily went south with the work teams … and was not there when the portal opened for us.” Alyssa swallows convulsively.

“I am sorry.” I am sorry, but how is it possible one sister was Glonu and the other is Ilfin?

“We are nor biological sisters,” Alyssa says quietly. Clearly she sees the direction my thoughts lead me. “They are dead, aren’t they? All those sent south?”

Kay did not explain about Damin and Mirlin’s mission to the south; he merely repeated what Lyra said on her boulder – Arc attacked them. Blinking, I admit, “They are dead, yes.”

Alyssa releases a pent-up breath. “I was right. Damin separated us and the Glonu went south, but it was not Arc that attacked them. Damin killed them.”

“While I do not expect you to understand, know that the Glonu sacrifice allowed us to move through the barrier.” I stare at the woman. “Alyssa, my brother is not a killer. He did what needed doing and I swear he did not like doing it.”

Her eyes harden. “You do not know your brother very well.” Fury erupts in red spots upon her face, but she holds it in. “I assume you prefer the others not to know of your murder campaign? I will not say a word, but know this, Siri Mur. Your brother is marked.” Alyssa then turns her horse aside and vanishes into the massed riders.

My brother was marked the day he left Grenmassin, I understand, and he has as many enemies as he has supporters. Alyssa better watch herself, though. Damin is my brother.

Kay shifts in alongside. “Women bear greater grudges than men do. Do not laugh her off.”

Grimacing, I mutter, “I intend to watch her, do not fear.” Then, looking at him, I ask, “And you, Kay? You lost someone close to you as well. Is Damin on your hit list?”

He is silent so long, I wonder if he has any intention of answering, but eventually he says, “I have no quarrel with Damin.”

There is something more in his tone. “But?” I prompt.

He sends me a dead look. “Mirlin needs to explain himself.”

I look away. We all carry so many emotional burdens now; much of who we were weeks ago has been smothered. “I hope you can forgive him.”

“Yes, I hope so as well,” Kay utters in a grim tone.


The rain arrives then, a deluge.


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Pretty shells


Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Review: The Wasteland Chronicles (Omnibus Edition)




The King's Challenge #196 and #197

TKC 196 and 197

We join the Messenger camp and soon most everyone is asleep. Tomorrow we will make up time on horseback. The horses count to over four hundred, and I am amazed we did not hear them as we closed in. Apparently they are foraging further out, under watch.

Brant, a young man who only recently joined the Messengers, informs us that when the asteroid became visible in the day sky, they decided to round up all their horses and herd them onto the plain. A Messenger, he claims, is as nothing without his horse; he grins as he says it, knowing he speaks only truth.

“Many Messengers had already gone to spread the word south and west and thus left with the Great March …”

My eyebrows lift. So that is what they call our desperate flight across the dryness?

“… and therefore we were few,” Brant continues, “but we love our mounts and so …” He lapses into silence, grimacing.

Another takes up the tale, an older man. “The soldiers started rounding them up … for slaughter. We could not stand back and allow that to happen.”

“We lost many Messengers in confrontation with the soldiers,” a woman murmurs.

“There was much panic and chaos,” Brant whispers. “People can be so cruel.”

Swallowing, I ask, “What is the situation on the plateau now?”

The older man answers. “My name is Hal and I was one of the last to leave. I saw was units of cavalry capturing folk who ran to escape the fireball. Chaos is a kind word. How it goes now, after the rock went on its way? We don’t know and we don’t want to know.”

“You chose to remain on the plains?” I prod.

“Much better out here, and safer for the horses too,” the woman adds.

“How do you eat?” Kay blurts.

She smiles at him. “Says the city boy, right? There is always food; you just have to know where to find it. Tubers in this dry earth are pretty nourishing.”

“Taste like crap, though,” Brant grumbles.

“Cease your prattle,” the woman laughs. “It keeps you alive, not so?”

“What is your name?” I ask.

“Marian.” She bobs her head.

“Do you know Hanna?”

Her eyes brighten. “Hanna made it to Arc? And Joseph? Did he? Those two were always meeting up in the most unlikely places!”

Hal bursts into laughter. “I once caught them snogging behind a well in Normur!”

Smiling, I say, “They made it. Both are with Damin …”

“The Marsh Devil lives?” Brant exclaims.

I give him the eye. “His name is Damin Mur and he is my brother. He is no devil.”

Crestfallen, he apologises. “But it’s great he is with the people, isn’t it? He knows how to do stuff.”

Yes, that describes Damin. I laugh. “It’s great, yes.”

“Why are you leaving Arc,” Hal questions then, staring at Kay in particular. “It is meant to be a haven, is it not? We are, in fact, slowly meandering that way with the horses.”

Kay squeezes his eyes shut. “Arc is not a haven. Arc is a trap.”

Gasps erupt from those around the fire with us. “How so?” Marian asks.

He tells them then about the ghostly residents seeking souls to create forever slaves. He speaks of the barrier in place between us and them. Briefly he mentions the Glonu, saying they are the ancients still living in their manner inside that bowl of mountains.

The older man’s eyes narrow. “You are not telling us everything.”

I jump in before Kay does tell everything. There is no telling who is Glonu among us at this fire. “We have our reasons and we will tell you when we know you better.” I smile then, knowing it will disarm the man. “Right now I am too weary to grapple with those issues.”


“Yes, let them sleep first,” Marian murmurs, sending me a wink.


The moment you became a Reader


Monday, February 1, 2016

The King's Challenge #194 and #195

TKC 194 and 195



There are no words to describe the quality of silence we descend the mountain in. Most are stunned by the reality of the Ilfin/Glonu wars … and how they fit into that. Yes, Kay has revealed also the ships on approach to Massin.

We must make haste across the plains to where the plateau peters off. There is the cave system and maybe we will escape the wrath of the Glonu entering our airspace if we vanish into the earth itself.

Seven days is not enough time, though. It took us longer to cross the plains to Arc, and we had the use of Horin’s light bridges. No such advantage will be ours this time.

Hope in hand, we depart the ancient stones and deceit of Arc.

Night has fallen again before all are off the mountain pass. We do not stop; we go on. This march will not allow us rest; we will walk until our feet fall off. All day we walk, in dryness, in heat. Far away there are rain clouds; too far to offer relief here. In the early dark hours Kay calls a halt. We will sleep for two hours and then go on.

I drop my pack and my legs give way. Sitting untidily on dry sand filled with sharp stones, I allow my head to sag down. I am instantly asleep.

Kay’s gentle shake awakens me. “Come on, Siri; time to go.”

My stomach is filled with acid and my eyes are gritty with weariness, but I clamber to my feet. I realise Kay must have helped me to lie down. I wonder if he slept at all. He hands me a mug of tea and a crust of bread. I swallow and chew simultaneously, I am that hungry.

“Easy,” he laughs.

“Did you sleep?” I manage to mumble.

“A little.” He takes me by my shoulders and moves me until I am facing east. “Look. What do you see?”

Squinting, I see nothing. After wiping my eyes clear of sleep’s crystals, I look again. Then again. “Camp fires.”

Kay nods. “Others are on the plain. We must be wary.”

Bugger. Have I the energy for that as well? Walking is about all I am able to focus on right now. “When has anything been simple in recent times?” I mutter.

“You are moody,” Kay grins.

I am, yes. This entire adventure has been fraught with dilemmas and conundrums; I am sick of it. Give me a warm bed in a small cottage and leave me there, will you?

He laughs at the glare I send him and then gestures. “We go on!” he calls to the night. Concerted rustles reveal we have resumed the march. Kay takes my hand and my pack and drags me onward.

The fires grow ever brighter. Whoever is out there is not moving. They have stopped for the night.

Kay takes us around them and tells us to go on walking. He doubles back to the campsite thereafter. We need to know who we are dealing with in this great emptiness. If we can see them, they will soon notice us. We are a fair-sized crowd.

My heart sits in my throat, but I lead our people on, trusting to Kay to come out of whatever he finds alive.

The unmistakable sound of hoof beats halts us. We crouch in the darkness and make as little noise as we can. Friend or foe? With or without Kay? The tension alone will floor me soon.

Swinging crazily, a lantern on a swift horse bears down on us, and then abruptly halts. “Siri!”

I shoot to my feet. “Kay!”

“Messengers, Siri,” Kay calls out, walking his horse closer. He dismounts and leads the animal in. “Messengers and horses. Enough horses. They are few, but they brought all their horses.”

I hear the glee in his voice. It is good news, indeed.



Proverbs of Middle Earth: Gandalf and Saruman