Wednesday Writing - Week 08

A snippet of a Work-in-Progress to be released in 2020.

Excerpt (River Run, Chapter 1)

Everyone in the Arche Tribe wakes when the cock crows at sunrise. To wake before the sun is believed to be a bad omen. I never believed in half the things my sister taught me over the years about our tribe and therefore every morning before the cock crowed and before the sun began to rise, I climbed the mountain that protected us from harm and waited and listened to the sound of morning. The birds chirping, the wind whistling through the trees, circling the mountain, and the sun warming my skin. Getting to bear witness to Zoldir’s creation the way I imagine the dragons must have when they roamed the earth, long before my tribe came into being, gave me the energy I needed to start the day.

I wonder now, as I find myself lost and alone, without my sister and without my tribe, if waking up so early, for all of those days, was worth it? Was my refusal to believe the omens and traditions of my tribe what killed my sister?

“Hold still,” Serene said, slapping me behind my head. Fidgeting was something I did best and only when it came time to paint my face. It wasn’t that I hated the paint or the tradition it carried, it was that I hated the color I would be forced to wear for another thousand days. My sister was lucky, she only had till sunset to wear yellow, the color of youth, before the ceremony when she would be smeared with blue, the color of maturity.

“Not everyone has the honor of wearing yellow, River,” I parroted along with her. This was a saying she repeated every time I acted like wearing the color was something I hated. She slapped me again behind my head and I sat still until she finished.

She was right, not everyone wore the colors. If your family passed on or you were born of another then you are not permitted to wear color. Only a family member by blood or by joining can apply the color. It is a tradition. And the Arche Tribe is built on tradition.

“Are you scared about tonight?” I asked her. She finished the last line of yellow above my eyebrow and turned my chin to one side checking that it was perfectly matched to the other. Serene always made sure my paint was as perfect as possible and I always made sure to end the day with one or all of my lines smeared or practically missing.

“Of what do I have to fear? It is just washing away my youth so that I may be seen as a woman. It is a tradition that has happened for centuries before me. There is nothing to fear. Mother was not afraid.”

Whenever Serene mentioned our mother her eyes would go still. They would no longer shine like they always did. Something deep inside her grew quiet and I could tell she wished she had not said anything at all. It is moments like these I wanted to reach out and comfort her. Tell her that it was okay to miss our mother. But women show no emotion. Emotions were reserved for children and my sister chose to cast aside her emotions when our mother died nearly three thousand days ago. She said it was practice for when she would come of age, but I knew better. I’d hear her crying softly every night into her pillow when the moon was high and the cock slumbered.

Wednesday Writings - Week 07

Every Wednesday I'll share a small portion of my writing. Hope you enjoy what you're reading!

Excerpt (Daxton, Chapter 7)

The further they walked along the dirt path trees surrounding them were denser. They could barely see in front of them and Spire kept walking into low hanging branches, which he found annoying but Nelle giggled every time. This went on for several minutes before Nelle picked up a thick branch from the ground and with her fingers splayed out, palm up, she called forth a ball of orange fire which hovered in the air above her hand. She touched it to the tip of the branch and it caught fire instantly.

“Perhaps this will help?” She shoved the branch into Spire’s hand and continued walking. She had walked this path plenty of times as she used to be a regular visitor to the Kings Castle. Her frequent visits to see the King were to remain a secret from everyone which is why she knew this path so well.

In the distance, Spire heard rustling. He grabbed Nelle and put a finger to his lips to keep her quiet. They remained perfectly still long enough for her to hear the same sound. She took the torch from his hand and before he could stop her, she marched in the direction of the sound. Spire worried it could be a wild animal out for a late-night feeding, but she knew exactly what she’d find when she pointed the torch towards thick bush.

A man had his arms wrapped around a young girl. They knelt side by side, hiding as best they could.

“It is quite alright, you do not need to be afraid of us. We won’t harm you. In fact, we’ve been looking for you. I am Nelle the—.”

“…one who has come to help you,” Spire interrupted, stopping her before she could reveal she was a witch. He saw the Royal Green vest the man wore and knew it meant he was a member of the Kings Army. He did not wish to find out what would happen should they be discovered to be a witch and a pirate.

She eyed Spire suspiciously, a frown on her face as she hated being cut off, especially by a mortal pirate. But perhaps keeping the fact that she was a witch a secret was not such a terrible idea. “We were wondering if we could be of some assistance to you.”

“I am Adelaide. you are pretty.” The little girl pried herself away from Traix who remained guarded as he watched both Spire and Nelle closely.

“What brings you two out here so late at night?” Traix asked, holding fast to Adelaide’s shoulders so she would not stray too far from him.

“What brings us out here? Why, we’re out here…” Spire started but couldn’t think of a good reason.

“We are lovers just out here trying to find a good place to lay upon the grass when we heard a sound. And now that we’ve found you and your daughter I am sure my companion will agree with me that we much rather be of service to you than to each other.” She smiled innocently at Traix, while Adelaide looked up at her confused by what she heard. Spire turned his face away and tried to suppress laughter.

“There is a child present, what is wrong with you? Are you one of those ladies who spends her evenings in that Serpent’s Head? If so, there is absolutely nothing you can do for us, thank you. We’ll just be on our way and leave you two—.”

Wednesday Writings - Week 03

Every Wednesday I'll share a small portion of my writing. Hope you enjoy what you're reading!

Excerpt (Daxton, Chapter 3)

The Serpent’s Head. The oldest tavern in the Kingdom of Gaspar. It also happens to be the only tavern near the coastline where a man knows he is sure to find some liquid refreshment. As Traix gripped Adelaide’s small hand in his, he walked through the front door. It was nearly empty, save for a few patrons sitting at the bar and a table in the far corner where four men sat, having a lively discussion that no one could comprehend unless they were there when they first started drinking. No one seemed to be bothered by the appearance of Traix, accompanied by a little girl. He did not want to take any chances that one of the men would notice what he wore and question him, so he made for a table that was both far away from the drunk men and the bar.

The stench of sweaty men and beer wafted up to his nostrils and his stomach suddenly made an all too familiar sound. “Wait here, I need a drink.” He took two steps from the table, then stopped when he saw the look on her face. What made his stomach ache for the drink was making her wince in disgust. “Do you want something?” he asked, hoping there might be some sort of drink or food this place would have that could give her some comfort.

She looked around the room and had the same thought he must’ve; this place probably wouldn’t have something a little girl could drink. She shook her head at him and pulled the swords belt over her head so she could hold it in her lap instead. The men continued to pay them no mind but she still feared they might try and take it. Traix was more concerned someone would take her. He eyed the men seated at their own table cautiously, but they remained huddled in whispered conversation.

He approached the bar and slammed his hand down on the table to get the attention of the barman at the other end. He was in the middle of pouring a pint of beer for a gentleman who could barely hold his head in an upright position. The barman stared Traix down with anger in his eyes, until he saw the Royal Green of his vest, and suddenly a smile appeared on his face. He snatched away the pint of beer he had finished pouring for the inebriated patron and walked it over to Traix, slamming it down in front of him.

“Welcome, good sir. What brings you to the Serpent’s Head? Is the Kings ship back already? What news do you bring of the great Captain Hinde and his quest to defeat Silverblade?” He raised his voice so the few who were there could hear him, and made sure to spit just as loudly on the ground next to him. It was a sign of loyalty to the King if the name of Silverblade was ever uttered to spit out their disgust for having spoken something so foul.

Want more? Sign up for my newsletter and get updates on when my novels are available for sale.

Wednesday Writings - Week 02

Every Wednesday I'll share a small portion of my writing. Hope you enjoy what you're reading!

Excerpt (Daxton, Chapter 2)

Traix climbed down a nearby ladder on the opposite side of the ship where no one would see him. When he entered the choppy waters, he could feel a body, mangled beyond recognition, floating near the surface. He gave himself a few moments for his gag reflexes to temper themselves before he grabbed ahold of the body and kicked his feet slowly, trying not to catch the attention of the sharks nearby. Together, Traix and the corpse had the appearance of two dead men floating down the channel. Saltwater mixed with the blood of his fallen brothers, including that of the man whose torso he grabbed, seeped in and out of his mouth. He tried helplessly to keep as much of the rancid water out of his mouth, but he valued breathing more and suffered through it. The body he held tightly began to take on the temperature of the water, cold, and his fingers got slippery. He struggled not to let go.

The Pirates could see body parts on the surface of the water, but the carnage of sharks searching for fresher meat was too much even for them. They avoided looking too closely at the water as much as possible while they boarded the enemy ship. None of them found it odd, or worth investigating, the two bodies, one of which was remarkably intact bobbing in the water, moving against the current. And Traix, member of the Royal Army, was glad of that.

“Where are we, brother?” he asked the corpse. One of its legs was completely ripped away and he did not dare check, but he wagered the arms were missing as well. He pondered why the sharks would leave what he perceived to be the meatiest part of the human body, the torso, behind? But as he could just about make out land not too far from his current destination, he cared very little for their actions and appreciated the opportunity afforded him to escape. However, out the corner of his eye, he saw a ship waving a Pirate flag. They were not headed for him, but their heading would take them dangerously close enough to notice whether what was in the water was dead or alive. He took a deep breath and changed his hold on the floating body from his side to just below, then plunged his head underwater and remained under water, holding the body and his breath for dear life. As luck would have it the ship passed him at a rather quick pace, making it difficult for them to take notice of him or his mangled companion. Not willing to risk getting caught, he held out as long as he possibly could before he opened his eyes underwater and came face to eyeball with the body he continued to use as a decoy. He screamed, letting a rush of water into his mouth. He erupted to the surface, coughing and gagging, frantically looking around but there was no ship or sharks. Nothing but the open water. With newfound vigor, his feet paddled even harder.

Want more? Sign up for my newsletter and get updates on when my novels are available for sale.

Wednesday Writings - Week 01

Every Wednesday I'll share a small portion of my writing. Hope you enjoy what you're reading!

Excerpt (Daxton, Chapter 1)

The sound of cannon fire surrounded The Shadow. A ship filled with men—pirates droopy-eyed and still in their sleep attire, scurried about on deck, shouting at each other. This was their feeble attempt at giving orders. With a missing Captain and Quartermaster, it made the men unsure of who exactly was in command and therefore they all were. The life of a pirate meant never having to give orders, just take them, and most of the time those orders were to steal or kill. These men were not adept at being organized when faced with an unexpected attack and no leader to guide them. 

The evening lookout sounded an alarm by shouting at the top of his lungs that he spotted a ship just off the port bow. It was not the ideal way anyone would wish to be alerted to such an attack, but it worked as intended. However when the lookout shouted the first time no one seemed to stir from below. It wasn’t until the oncoming enemy ship was close enough to fire upon The Shadow, narrowly missing, that the men, slumbering below deck, knew something was amiss. It was this noise of her disoriented men clamoring about that Captain Silverblade heard when she awoke with a headache.


Want more? Sign up for my newsletter and get updates on when my novels are available for sale.