Scribblings and FtGG Updates

Let's kick this off with a few scribbles!

~*~

He was a beautiful disaster.

This thought struck her one day after returning from work and finding her living room once again in complete disarray. It was as if a tornado had launched through the center of the room. He was like a tornado. Gale force, intense winds that left chaos in their wake. The couch pillows lay on the floor, the books scattered about the various end tables, dishes left where they’d been set, a blanket lying halfway off the armchair in a heap, and a towel on the floor next to the coffee table soaking up whatever had spilled into the carpet beneath it.

And there he was. Standing in the corner, amidst all of it. The window open, the gauzy curtains swaying in the breeze. His short hair stuck out at odd angles, evidence of a previous nap. The paint jacket she had gotten him last week lay neatly draped over the bouquet of silk flowers in the windowsill, while his white t-shirt now sported the brilliantly disorganized stains of his artistic endeavors, as did his arms, his neck, his chin, and, yes, one random spot of hair on the left side of his head.

At first it was utter exasperation that had enveloped her upon coming across this deplorable sight. How hard was it to simply clean up after oneself? How old was he, three? Was she his mother now? Did he have no sense of common decency?

That’s when the thought struck her. She couldn’t see his face because his back was to her, but she could see his concentration. He hadn’t even heard her come in. All his attention, his energy, his very soul, was absorbed in simple creation. In one hand the plate of paints, in the other a paintbrush, flicking back and forth from color to canvas with such unpredictable precision that all she could do was stare.

Before her eyes, the chaotic placement of strokes and slants and blots began to transform into faces. Figures, three of them, standing in a darkened meadow, surrounded by flowers, and the first few winking stars in the sky. Looking at it, she could sense the quiet sadness that laced the scene. She could feel it.

And all the sudden she was aware of two things simultaneously. First, him. He saw something in that empty, blank canvas, and he painted it. She got the sense that it was somehow part of him. A part that could only come out through his brush. Second, herself. It was an ache, almost. A void. Whatever he had, she didn’t. Her immaculate lifestyle left no room for imagination. Because, she realized… she had none. Standing here watching the chaos form into perfect imperfection on a simple, flat piece of white canvas, awed her. It was like magic. And she no longer noticed that it was sitting on one of her dining room chairs instead of the easel, which was leaning against the wall untouched, just like his painting jacket.

~*~

So there's one. It's completely random, the result of inspiration about a unique relationship between a woman and her younger brother and their completely opposite personalities. I have a story idea that goes along with it but I doubt it'll ever be written...

The next is based off a story world and storyline that Wynni and I freehand on skype.

~*~

  She sat by the bank of the stream, her back against a tree, and her sketchbook in her lap. Jesse paused. He had been planning to practice here, perhaps for the same reason Sylvae had chosen to come here and draw, but his forms were something he preferred to do alone.

  After a moment of internal debate, Jesse entered the little haven. He let his footsteps fall with gentle thuds to alert her to his approach. Her pointed ear shifted ever so slightly towards the sound, and she looked up.

  He offered a smile. “Mind if I join you?”

  Recognition softened her expression, and she straightened. “Indeed not.”

  Jesse seated himself cross legged near her. For a few moments he observed their surroundings. He’d sat with her many times before. It’d become quite a usual thing in the past month since they’d met, the only difference this time being the environment, and the fact that Sylvae didn’t seem to mind having him around as much anymore. At least, she didn’t get up and walk away as much as she used to. Which pleased him, he found. Since they’d met she’d been a complete mystery, and any time he managed to draw a reaction from her, he felt a small sense of triumph, especially if she smiled.

  The stream babbled by on a race with the chill fall breeze rustling through the sparse trees that dotted the banks. Above them, the clouds watched, drifting demurely across the milky blue sky, and the sun peeked between them to dapple the earth below with whispers of fading warmth.

  Winter is coming. It murmured.

  Levelling his gaze once again, Jesse glanced at his companion. Sylvae had gone back to her sketch, a wispy representation of the creek dribbling over a certain cluster of rocks on the far bank. On the opposite page, he noticed several smaller drawings of people’s faces. He recognized them, people they’d met on their recent travels. Several of the sailors he knew, and a couple of Jasmine with her various expressions. He smiled a little to himself. Sylvae could spend months trying to capture all the thousands of faces Jasmine was known to make. How she’d manage to perfectly put down even those few ever astounded him. Art had never been a strong point of his.

  He shifted his gaze to her face a moment. Though her hair was a strange sort of white, her brows were the darkest brown, drawn together in concentration. Her lips pressed together, her blue eyes shifted from the paper to the cluster of rocks, back and forth, and her slender fingers manipulated the charcoal like magic. Occasionally she would tilt her head, narrowing her eyes, and Jesse could see where the long scar cut through her brow and ran down along her cheekbone to her jaw. He’d grown so used to seeing it that he didn’t notice it often, but he was well aware that it was one mystery he had yet to solve.

  But it could wait.

  “Those drawings of Jasmine are perfect,” Jesse finally commented.

  Giving him a glance out of the corner of her eye, Sylvae paused. “Are they?”

  Jesse nodded. “You got her expressions exactly right. She makes those faces all the time.”

  After a moment’s examination, Sylvae nodded in accession. “Thank you.”

  “How come you never draw yourself?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Jesse shrugged. He didn’t really know why.

  She added, returning to her sketch, “I don’t know what I look like.”

  He frowned. “How can you not know what you look like?”

  “There aren’t any mirrors in my house,” She said. “And it never really seemed that important. Souls are more beautiful than faces, anyway.”

  “Then why do you draw faces?”

  “Sometimes you can see people’s souls in their faces.”

  “Don’t you think you could see yours in your face?”

  She tilted her gaze at him again. Jesse raised his brows in response.

  “I don’t know,” She finally replied, looking down again, though not continuing her drawing. She brushed her hair behind her ear.

  They sat in silence then. Sylvae had a comfortable silence that Jesse liked. It wasn’t awkward or exclusive. It was just quiet, a mutual sharing of each other’s presence that required no words or acknowledgement. He’d gotten used to doing this, as well, because even though Sylvae talked to him more now than before, she still had times often enough when she kept her thoughts to herself.

  And she had a similar appreciation for nature, so she normally settled in places that Jesse enjoyed being. Like this one.

  Leaning back on his hands, he gave the area a once over. He’d have to come back tomorrow or later today to practice his forms. There was a spot across the water with enough space between the trees to go through several sequences without having to worry about bumping into anything. Although, he thought, it could help to learn to avoid obstacles.

  “Can you see it?”

  Sylvae’s question brought him out of his thoughts. “What?”

  For a moment it seemed she wasn’t going to answer, her gaze on the ground between them.

  “My soul.”

  Brows drawing closer, Jesse sat up. He studied Sylvae’s profile, trying to think of an answer.

  Could he?

  He hesitated before admitting, “Not yet. But… I’m not very good at that kind of thing. Jasmine’s better. Maybe you could ask her sometime.”

  She looked at him long and hard, her expression unreadable, but her eyes a little wider and flicking in minute movements as Jesse realized she was examining his face. He let her, staring back.

  Suddenly he noticed that her eyes were blue, and couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t seen it before. It hadn’t occurred to him. But with the light from the slanted sunbeams aiding him, he saw the hue glinted in her irises so deeply it reminded him of the unfathomable depths of the ocean around his home island. Brilliant, and ever changing like waves, teasing with glimpses of what lay below but ever protecting the mysteries beneath the surface.

  When he realized he was staring, his face grew warm, but he didn’t move until Sylvae finished her inspection.

  The color of her eyes hid in a shroud of shadow when she turned her gaze back to her sketchbook. Jesse waited for her verdict.

  “I hope it was that disappointing.” He teased.

  The ghost of a smile passed over her lips, and she started drawing.

  “No,” He said. “Tell me.”

  She glanced at him.

  “With words,” He encouraged.

  “Some things speak louder than words.”

  “Words can be pretty loud, too.”

  “Not loud enough.”

  Jesse conceded. “Alright.”

  She began sketching again, and Jesse laid back to wait. He’d already seen his face, and he didn’t know that Sylvae could show him anything new. Oh well. It wasn’t all that important, anyway. His mind began to drift to their journey again, the roads they still had to take and obstacles they had to overcome.

  And Jasmine. He thought about Jasmine a lot. He worried about her, and the things in Septyni he couldn’t protect her from.

  Rising, Jesse slid his swords from their sheath and waded across the stream. At the moment, he didn’t care if Sylvae was watching. More likely she’d be preoccupied with her sketch while he practiced, but either way, he needed to channel the energy pent up inside him, and it couldn’t wait.

  He drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly, bringing his thoughts towards one focus and blocking everything else out. For him, time stilled, and his awareness extended only to his own movements, and the immediate area around him. Dips in the ground, the distance of the water and trees, the visibility in this lighting, the temperature of the breeze ruffling through his hair, and the steady in and out of his breath matching the rhythm of his heightening heartbeat.

  By the time he finished, the light had turned orange, and Sylvae was gone.

~*~

When it comes to my own writings, I either invest myself in an entire novel, or I write scribbles that are written mainly involving character dynamic and emotion. It becomes less important to know the characters or the backstory because that doesn't matter when the captured moment itself is so intriguing.

At least that's what I try to accomplish. Heh.

Now on to For The Greatest Good. While Dana and I did complete a fair portion of, I'm afraid it is yet uncompleted. It's difficult to continue with it, as well, as Dana is currently at basic training. Let's have a cheer for the United States Army, shall we?

So he's down at Fort Benning Georgia learning how to fire a myriad of weapons, use explosives, and do things with tanks, as his job will eventually be Cavalry Scout for the Army National Guard. Two months left before he graduates.

Anyway, down in basic training, there is little contact with 'the outside world'. So no skype, and certainly no time to transcribe For the Greatest Good segments. So that puts a bit of a pause on things until he gets back in December. When he does, however, we are going to figure out how to get this story both finished, and published. Until then I will be working on my other novel, The Land Between Time. Which is so far taking much longer to finish than I anticipated. Sigh. That's what I get for being optimistic. Haha.

Dia duit,
~Penny

For The Greatest Good -- Part XXII (Dana)

Part XXII – Account by Dana MacDonald

 

 

  The few hours that remained of night passed without disturbance. Kearney was asleep by the time I returned. I made no move to wake her; I did not feel she would take my premonitions well. So strong were they that Set’s interference was doubtful.

Finding still no desire to rest, I stood several paces away from where she slept. I leaned on the blunt end of my lance, staring out into the dim light of early morning. Dawn’s light had yet to fully break, leaves whispered by on a faint wind. A feeling of disquiet settled on me, small at first. Yet it grew, gradually.

Something’s not right. Perhaps we’ve stayed too long… but that would be ludicrous. We had ample time ahead of Ross, and horses would be of little advantage in this foliage.

The call of a horn broke the uneasy silence. The note shifted to a higher pitch, and then cut off.

The sentry’s warning call!

Before I had time to call out in answer, men’s cries and shouts of alarm echoed throughout the forest, followed by a sudden clash of arms. I leapt forward onto a small rise on the hillside and hefted my lance.

   “Northerners! To arms, they’ve found us!” I shouted. Penny leapt up, standing and drawing her sword in nearly the same instance. The shrubbery around us came alive with frenzied activity as men awoke, swords were drawn and arrows strung.

   “A shield wall, hurry! John, where are you?” I called out, searching the faces of the warriors around us. No reply reached where I stood; from the crest of the hill to my right, a group of swordsmen crashed through the enshrouding foliage. Sounds of thick fighting rang out behind them, and Ross’s livery was clearly displayed on their garments. I stepped back from the rise to stand beside Kearney. Several dozen of my fighters gathered around us, forming a defensive line on the uneven terrain.

   “Sorry for the rude awakening, Kearney,” I said above the sounds of clashing steel and battle cries. “Someone’s trying to capture us again.”

Kearney took a step back and gripped her sword in a readied stance. “I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve seen enough of Ross’s prison to last me a lifetime. How far are my brothers from here?”

A multitude of potential replies came to my mind, but the approaching soldiers arrested my attention and I answered hastily.

   “They’re not there, Kearney.”

   “What?”

   “Watch yourself!” I shouted in warning. The approaching fighters reached our line, and I leapt forward to catch one of their front-runners off guard. My engagement came a mere moment before Ross’s soldiers met the line of northern fighters. The hillside erupted into a chaotic struggle for survival, sword against lance and arrow upon shield. I exchanged blows with the fighter I’d engaged for several moments before a strike to his unguarded side brought him down. I took a brief moment to find Kearney amidst the struggle. She was at the fringe of the fight, rallying the outliers to solidify our position. A slash to my right caught my immediate attention, and I jumped backwards to avoid losing my head. Another slash; I deflected it with my lance and thrust, forcing my attacker to jump backwards.

We need to leave. They won’t let anyone here save Kearney and I live.

Another group of warriors came over the crest of the hill, and I chanced a glance. John charged down towards our struggle, over a score of our fighters behind him. Their advance caused a momentary pause in our conflict. I seized the chance and struck a blow to my opponent with the blunt end of my lance, crumpling him.

   “John!” I shouted. “Get out of here! Take any you find remaining, flee!”

The stalwart captain fixed me with a pointed stare, even with the chaotic conflict broiling around us. I stared back, willing him to understand, to comply. He gave short nod, and then pushed into the scene of conflict. That done, I moved back to join the net of defenders Kearney had gathered. The skirmish nearest to us was nearly done with; sounds of the main conflict raged still beyond the hill’s crest. A gap showed in the diminishing group of opponents before us. Kearney seized the chance and darted forward, ducking between small pockets of combat

“Kearney! Don’t, get back here!”

I sprinted after her, scanning the forest around for any signs of ambush. Kearney halted a short distance ahead beside a tree and looked out into the greenery. A momentary jolt of warning slowed my pace, just as an arrow struck the tree Kearney crouched next to. She ducked behind the trunk and glanced up at my approach.

   “Dana, what is going on!”

I halted beside her and looked for a clue to the arrow’s source.

   “We’re under attack, looks to be a force about three times the size of my cohort. What’s left of it, rather; come on, we need to go while we still can.”

She nodded and jumped up to retrace our steps. I followed beside her as she asked,

   “Where can we go?”

   “Away from here,” I replied. “This attack is meant for us, I’m certain. So long as we escape, they’ll leave the others alone and chase us. Good plan, aye?”

   “You had me at the word ‘escape’,” Kearney replied as she sheathed her sword. “You’d better lead; make sure we get out of here.”

I slung my lance over my shoulder and took the head. My clan warriors streamed by on either side, heading towards the main sounds of battle. They ignored our passage, tribute to their experience. I glanced back over my shoulder and chuckled.

   “Bad choice, attacking my folk in a forest. They’ll have them running rings trying to contain them all.”

   “Good.”

Semi-aware of it as I was, the guiding nudge of my gift veered sharply, and without warning. I skidded to a halt, stumbling to keep my balance. I stared in the implied direction, directly off our previous course to the right.

   “That’s odd. I thought…”

I stepped forward, slowly, without finishing either the thought or sentence.

   “Dana…”

I stopped. Her suspicion was well grounded. But there was little I could but go forward; Set’s touch on my sense of direction had grown subtle in recent times, and I had not the skill to detect it half the time.

   Unless…

I turned to face Penny.

   “Kearney, this is going to sound odd, but I need you to search my mind.”

She blinked, and replied,

   “What?”

   “It’s… complicated. I’ll explain later. Long story short, guardian knights can affect each other’s abilities. I need you to tell me if Set’s influencing me at all.”

She nodded, confusion replaced by a sense of focus.

   “Alright. Look at me.”

I met her eyes. Her gaze shifted to an almost distant look, yet at the same time piercing. An unfamiliar wind of whispered thoughts flowed within my mind, like the voices of a multitude given by one speaker. It was light, a gentle touch, no more. Yet it brought back unbidden memory of times only a few years recent: the lance of Set’s mind, burning, piercing, agonizing beyond expression of pain…

I willed the thought away, even as the whisper of Kearney’s probe receded.

   “If he was there, he wasn’t strong. Whatever influence he had has either faded or gone.”

I nodded and turned back to the foliage, feeling somewhat unsettled.

   “Right. Thank you. Our way should be about here somewhere…”

A pained groan drifted out on the air, very close. Kearney glanced at me and then moved towards the sound, hand on her sword. I followed close behind, both of us stepping around a thick tree trunk. There, propped against the trunk, was a wounded northerner; one I knew well.

   “Thomas!”

I leapt past Kearney and crouched beside the young fighter. His chest heaved with labored breaths. The broken shafts of two arrows were embedded in his chest.

   “Oh, Thomas…” I managed. “I should have left you home, you were nearly too young to come with us…”

The fiery-haired youth managed a pained smile.

   “Nothin’... For it, sir.”

Kearney stood beside me, silent. This lad was no older than eighteen years; death in battle was tragic, but for one just at life’s beginning…

Thomas coughed and grimaced.

   “Coward… shot me from behind a tree. I didn’t even notch my blade.”

I swallowed hard, managing to keep my expression contained.

   “Thomas, I’ll get you somewhere safe, just wait.”

   “Don’t start with all that, sir, I know I’m done in…”

The young northerner took a rasping breath, and then reached towards Kearney with a clenched fist. I watched, somewhat confused.

   “M’lady… if you would… I think you were meant to have it.”

Penny knelt, took his wrist and accepted whatever object Thomas offered, and then took his hand with her own.

   “Thank you…”

Thomas smiled with drooping eyelids.

   “Won’t the cap’n jump when he finds out I was right…”

   “He will,” Kearney replied. “You did well being so stubborn about it.”

He offered no other words. Several moments passed in silence, before Kearney laid his limp hand on his chest. Then she stood, shoving the object into her belt pouch.

   “Which way?”

I stood as well, taking several moments to focus even for that.

   “Right. Um… that way.” I gestured off into the woods. “That’s… that’s where we’re supposed to go.”

   “Dana.”

   “What?” I replied, glancing at her. Her answer was quiet, but resolved.

   “We have to go. He didn’t die so we could end up the same way.”

She stepped past Thomas and nudged my arm in the direction I’d indicated. I nodded and stepped forward. I could not bear to look back.

   “Aye…”

 

For The Greatest Good Cover

Did I mention I was planning on making FtGG into an e-book? I think I did somewhere. Anyway. I was meant to be working on transcribing another segment but I got completely and utterly distracted.

Bad Penny.

But look what I made!

 

 

Isn't it pretty? I made it using a website called ipiccy.com. It's a free photo editing website and it's awesome. I've made three covers with it so far, this one included.

 

So yeah. Completely distracted. I'll go write now....

 

Maybe.

 

Dia duit,

~Penny

For The Greatest Good Update

I don't know how many of you have caught on -- I didn't really mention it -- but Dana has now officially gone off to college.

Adoring Fans: Wait, what? He can't leave like that! The story isn't finished!

(I can dream, can't I?)

Calm down, paparazzi, don't panic. First of all, I still have quite a few segments I need to transcribe, so there won't be a lull in the story for a little while yet. However, since Dana does have an education to pursue for the next four years, there may come a pause at some point. So just be ready.

Secondly, Dana has said that he doesn't plan, or want, college to consume him. We are so close to the final chapter of FtGG that we are going to do our best to get it finished up either this winter, or sometime next Spring, depending on how Dana's schedule works.

I am very motivated to get this story completed because once it's done, I would like to edit, then publish it. It's been a wonderful story to work on and I think it'd look great in paperback and e-book. Besides that, how awesome would an in-costume book signing be, right?

Dia duit,
~Penny

For The Greatest Good -- Part XXI (Dana)

Part XXI -- Account by Dana MacDonald

The night air was cool. The wind’s breath whispered around tree and bush as I crept towards one of our company’s sentinels. The guard glanced back at my approach, and then returned his gaze to the dim forest scenery. I stopped at his side and pulled my cloak about my body to ward off the chill.

   “Seen anything?” I whispered.

   “Nay, MacDonald. No sign o’ movement or pursuit. Really think they’ll come after us?”

I nodded and kept my attention outwards.

   “No doubt about it. Set wouldn’t give up, not after the threat he made.”

The guard grunted in reply, and then fell silent, as did I.

   “Prison can’t be much farther off, aye?” he said after an interval.

   “If we start at dawn, we’ll be there by midmorning, or so says the scout we’ve followed.”

   “Is the course true, then?” he asked, glancing at me. I nodded.

   “So far, we’ve traveled aright.”

I glanced back over my shoulder. Kearney had left her spot by the tree, and I felt neither the desire for sleep or further conversation.

   Quick look ahead wouldn’t hurt.

I pulled my hood up and took a few steps forward.

   “I’ll be out looking ahead, shouldn’t take more than an hour at most. If I don’t return, keep following the scout forward.”

   “Aye, MacDonald,” the guard murmured. He, like the others, knew me well enough neither to worry nor question the action.

~*~

 

   I wound a path through the dim tree cover, occasional breaks in the foliage illuminated by moonlit radiance. The darkness and overall silence was soothing, and I paid little attention to my actual course, allowing my mind’s compass to guide me forward.

   She could be right.

I pushed a branch aside and climbed a short rise, pausing a moment as I gained the summit.

   There was never any list of who lived, and who died. No record of the battle’s details. What if…

   No.

Several pine trees grew from the hill’s face ahead of me, and I forced my way through the bramble of needles and branches. At the same time, I attempted to quell the thought. It echoed within my head’s confines.

   There might yet be a chance. Maybe-

   “No!” I spoke, rather than thought. “Every time I’ve tried to picture a solution, there’s been no path. In all the time I studied, searched, there hasn’t been a trace of a clue or hint. Why should I dare hope now, only to have it destroyed all too easily?”

The warring voice in my head offered no reply, but I did not feel at rest about the matter regardless. I focused my attention and moved onward to restrain any other stray thoughts. The ground beneath rose in an incline, and I moved upwards. What looked like a clearing lay at the top of the rise, and I made for it, thinking to gain a better view of the surrounding forest. I gained the summit, finding only a few stray trees here and there to block my view. Behind, I could see the forest stretch out of sight. I turned my gaze forward. Several miles beyond and below, I saw the glimmer of orange flames, tiny and steady, as well as a dark mass that looked different than the tree shadows around it. The sheer size of the mass was staggering, even larger in width than Campbell’s fortress.

   The prison, I thought grimly to myself. I allowed my inner compass to weave its course before my eyes… and then stopped, confused. The prison wasn’t the destination. My gift urged the course onward, beyond the prison.

   That can’t be right. My path is set on Kearney’s brothers, and this prison is the only bastion of Ross’s in this region.

I shifted my mind’s guide from Percy and Seph and focused on the Prison itself. Immediately, I felt a wave of revulsion and inner warning, so strong I could scarcely entertain the thought of moving forward, much less trying. Whatever lay within the prison, it would be to our death to attempt entrance now.

   This can’t be. Her brothers lay within the prison, surely it would be our destination!

I probed once more, receiving the same response. I stepped back, and then turned away from the hill’s summit and made my way down the slope. Wherever our course lay, it was not at the prison. Not now, at least.

   How am I supposed to explain this to Kearney?

For The Greatest Good -- Part XX (Penny)

Part XX – Account by Penny Kearney

 

  As the red haired young soldier walked away, securing the curious parchment in his pouch once again, John let a long wisp of smoke curl from his mouth, a thoughtful frown on his face.
  “You could show that to MacDonald. He could read it, I’d wager.”
  I nodded. Dana had mentioned reading old Order texts in his libraries up North. “I may do so tomorrow. He isn’t too pleased with me at the moment.” I ran my thumb over my lip in recollection.
  “And how do you know that, my lady?”
  I tilted my gaze away from him. “Because I am stubborn. I believe he wishes I would help him in his endeavor instead of thwarting his quest for Set’s blood.”
  I quelled the flare of warmth that started inside me and forced my thoughts to avert. I didn’t want to get angry again now. With a small sigh, I opened my mouth to say goodnight.
  “Don’t tell him that.” John moved to sit by his tree again.
  I frowned, watching him. “Don’t tell him what?”
  MacCullen settled before replying. “He doesn’t want to.”
  “Doesn’t want to what?”
  Tipping his gaze upwards, he met mine squarely. “He doesn’t want to die, my lady.”
  “I didn’t say he did…” I managed, unsure of what John was getting at.
  “No. You didn’t. Nor did he say he was upset.”
  “Were you listening?” I narrowed my eyes.
  “Didn’t have to. I know him well enough to tell when he’s angry.”
  I considered this. Perhaps I hadn’t been the only one to pass by MacCullen’s post this night.
  The old captain leaned back against the trunk of the tree, an ember in his pipe snapping quietly. “MacDonald knows well enough what happens when he goes after Set for blood. Only reason he did it recently was to get you out. Aye, he tried to kill Set. But… for all our sakes, I’m not sure he really would.” He took a long draw on his pipe, gaze flicking to me again as he let it out. “Maybe one way of not letting everyone down is by convincing them this is the only way. After all, if we’re all in one accord, who’s to disappoint, aye?”
  I shifted my gaze, letting John’s words sink in slowly.
  “That’s one thing his master couldn’t do, because he was still too furious,” John said. “Call his bluff. Give him a reason, my lady, a good one. He’s gone so long convincing himself, maybe even with his Gift, he can’t see proper.”
  I looked at the old soldier, studying him hard. I had all but abandoned the hope of convincing Dana to agree there might be another way out. Again the look in Dana's eyes when my blade had halted his flashed through my mind. Could that have been a bluff, too?
  “What kind of reason is a good enough one?” I ventured.
  “I don’t know, my lady. Any, I suppose. There hasn’t been another reason so far.”
  Only a heartbeat passed before I answered, “I’ll find one. Thank you, John. For talking.”
  “You will, Lady Kearney. If anyone will.”
  A smile turned the corner of my mouth. “Thank you for that, too… Goodnight.”
  With a nod, he pulled his hood over his head once again, but not before I caught a glimpse of his own smile. I left him there, his pipe still glowing in the darkness, and silently returned to the tree I had been sitting under before. For another long while I pondered the parchment, and John’s words, but at last I curled up amidst the knobbled roots and fell asleep.

For The Greatest Good -- Part XIX (Penny)

Part XIX – Account by Penny Kearney

 

  Time drifted past. Lost in my own thoughts, it seemed irrelevant. In fact I entirely forgot about it. When I finally lifted my head and glanced at the sky, the moon had crossed over the branches of the tree above me, to the one across. It seemed the only living thing not asleep. Even the crickets were lethargic in their chirping.
  I pushed myself to my feet, stretching my stiff muscles and letting the night air mingle with my thoughts.  Under various trees, behind bushes, and against rocky outcroppings, Dana’s men lay sprawled out or curled up, snoozing. I kept my steps light as I wandered from my resting place.
  I didn’t have a destination in mind. The forest surrounded me, and the slumbering soldiers in every shadow warded away the fear that would come from being alone in a dark place.
  I wandered for several minutes before a figure rose from beneath a tree at my approach. I guessed I must have run into the perimeter of encampment and caught the attention of the night guard.
  “Lady Kearney?” He ventured, notes of surprise in his tone. “You should be resting, our time here is short.”
  Slowing to a stop, I regarded the darkened form. He sounded familiar. John. John MacCullen, Dana’s captain I’d met yesterday when I’d woken up. Though slight, I caught the Northerner accent in his voice. My thoughts settled to the present as I answered, “I can’t sleep at the moment.”
  John nodded, returning to his place by the tree. “Do not let me disturb you, then.”
  I paused a moment, watching him. “Actually… Can I talk with you a moment?”
  He nodded. “If you wish, my lady. What is it you want to discuss?”
  “Dana.” I moved into the shadow of the tree near his and kept my tone hushed so as not to rouse any other soldiers. “How long have you known him?”
  “About five years now. When he was officially declared by his mentor, the elder knight.”
  “So you’re from the North, as well?”
  “Aye, my lady.” John said. “Warriors from different villages, some of us freed slaves that joined him during his trek down here.”
  I nodded, folding my arms and leaning back against the tree behind me.
  His head tilted in the darkness. “May I ask why you inquired, my lady?”
  I shrugged. “In the year I’ve known him, he has become a good friend. But come to think of it I don’t know that much about his past; what has made him who he is today.”
  He nodded. “He’s had quite a run compared to me, and he’s only half my age.”
  “It seems he has.” I murmured. There were times I would look at him and wonder if I even knew him at all. Times I felt so far away, so helpless.
  My army gone, my brothers prisoners, my people endangered. Right now I felt less like the ‘queen’ Set called me and more like a lonely, desperate warrior simply trying to survive one battle at a time. My heart would not let me rest, yet I longed for any comfort or encouragement to tell me I was doing the right thing.
  “Would you please tell me about him?”
  John regarded me through the veil of night with a steady stare. “What is it you want to know, my lady?”
  Everything.
  “I don’t want to know anything specific.” I said. “I can’t sleep, and I’m curious. I want to understand him better, because right now…”
  Pulling his cloak tighter around his broad shoulders, John nodded in understanding. “You’ll not be able to convince him, my lady. His own mentor couldn’t do that, right before he left.” He frowned in thought. “He was always helpful back home. He’d wander from village to village, a Guardian Knight; people would flock to greet him. But he’d get the most delight from helping a child find a lost toy, to give an example.”
  I listened intently to each word as he continued.
  “Even at sixteen, he was the best swordsman on the Northern shores. And yet, for the most part, he saved it for a last resort.” A darker note entered his tone. “That changed when Set came to us.”
  The all too familiar shudder trickled down my spine at the mention of Set. John produced a pipe from under his cloak, holding it up in question.
  I waved in acquiescence. “By all means.”
  Lighting it, he took a long draw, the embers glowing.  Smoke curled from his mouth with his exhale. “We found his native village completely destroyed. His master was distraught. People started disappearing, bands of thieves harassed us, harvest was short. That year was a hard one.
  “Then he came back. He returned to us much different than when he had left. Hard, bitter, covered in scars. He looked older than I did. It wasn’t two days before he’d called all the warriors together. Told us about Set, and the threat he posed. No one gainsaid him. We all agreed… and I doubt he would’ve taken no for an answer.”
 “Then all of you…” I eyed him. “You would all kill Set, given the opportunity.”
  John shook his head. “He didn’t tell us that bit. Besides, the look on his face, none of us would have taken away that right to kill Set himself away from him. Not after what happened to his village. It was a matter of honor.”
  I shifted my gaze. Honor….
  “But that day…” John shook his head. “That wasn’t justice. It was rage, anger, uncontrolled fury. I was firsthand what a Gift could do, turned evil. Our attack was flawless. Dana foresaw any mishaps, any ambush, any weakness. He wouldn’t brook any survivors. Ordered  them all destroyed. He led the advance to find Set, and wouldn’t let anyone stop him.”
  I remembered the flicker in Dana’s eyes when I’d interrupted his duel with Set in the dungeon of Ross’s castle. I remained quiet, hoping John would finish in spite of the distaste I detected in his tone.
  “When he found out Set had run, he was might angry. I took command then. We’d taken captives, and I wasn’t about to execute them out of spite, Gift or no Gift.” John paused, several clouds of smoke curling upwards before he spoke again. “Dana took this awful quietly, and he slipped off. I didn’t have to worry about his getting lost, for sure. He came back a few days later, a bit more composed. He apologized to me, talked with the elder guardian for a bit, then left again. I didn’t see naught of him for a few months. I think that’s when he first travelled Southwards, and found you and your brothers.”
  I nodded in silent response to John’s glance.
  “Then he returned to rally us all down here. He seemed more at peace with his lot then, a bit wiser and older.” He shrugged. “You’d know the same as me after that.”
  All of what John had just told me wove through my mind. I remained still quiet for several minutes, considering each word, each point, of the entire narration.
  “He has his moments,” John murmured. “When I think what’s happened, what he’s done, comes back to him. He’ll get quiet, won’t talk more than a few words at a time… Aside from that, he’s much like I knew him before, save a bit older.”
  Something inside me kept twisting. “You’re right. I don’t think there’s a way to change his mind about Set.”
  To this the Captain released his pipe from between his teeth and turned his gaze on me once more.

I suppose the defeat in my tone awakened some sense of sympathy in him. “Who knows. Perhaps you’re more stubborn than he is.”

  I could have laughed at the idea, but right then I couldn’t muster even a sarcastic one.  Not because I disagreed with his point, but because I wasn’t sure if he really meant what he said, or if he was just giving me half hearted encouragement because he was afraid he’d upset me.
  “Am I the only one who believes there has to be another way to stop Set?” I tilted my gaze to scrutinize his expression as he answered.
  “Has to be?”
  “Is that a yes?” I raised a brow.
  MacCullen settled back against the tree with a shrug. “I’m just an old soldier, Lady Kearney. I never learned to read in all my days. I couldn’t tell you yes, or no.”
  “Would you help me if I found a way?”
  He frowned in thought, glancing at me through puffs of smoke.
  “I’m not going to give up.” I added as his silence continued.  “But I would rather not have to fight against everyone including Dana in order to try and find another way to stop Set that doesn’t require Dana to die.”
  “I’d help you, Lady Kearney, if you could find a way. But I wouldn’t be of much help in finding one.”
  Tension I hadn’t noticed build up in my stomach unwound at his response, and my breath came easier. “Thank you.”
  From a nearby tree, another voice joined the conversation. “You’d go to the loremaster for that.”
  I turned my gaze towards a young soldier who lay within the confines of a bush, leaning on his elbows. For a moment I wondered how long he’d been listening, feeling somewhat self conscious at the thought, but my curiosity got the better of such fleeting emotions.
  John chuckled into his pipe. “Aye, the loremaster. That’d be an idea, wouldn’t it.”
  I detected a hint of jest in his tone, frowning. “Loremaster?”
  “Aye, masters of folklore where we come from. Told stories of werewolves, star dancers, and tree grabbers. You won’t find it in any book, I’ll tell you that.”
  “My grandfather knew one.” Thomas added.
  This time John laughed outright. “Aye, Thomas. And he was a bit on the deaf, blind side, wasn’t he?”
  “This was before all that, capt’n.” Thomas insisted. “Before he was in that avalanche. He’d tell me stories about the loremasters, even told me where to find their home.”
  “Aye, just as we all were.” He began half to himself. “Walk ever westward ‘til you cross the yellow sea…”
  Thomas joined in. “When you have gone farther than your body can muster, and the sea is a mockery to life and memory, you will find it.”
  “The tower of lore.” John smiled. “My Mum used to say the same thing.”
  I folded my arms, glancing between the two soldiers. “I don’t exactly have time to cross oceans…”
  John shrugged. “It’d be yellow, too. Goblin stories, no more.”
  “Then a loremaster isn’t going to help me much.”
  “They’re true, I’m telling you!” Rising, Thomas dug into a pouch attached to his belt. “I can prove it, too.”
  This caught my attention, forestalling my disbelief for a moment. The object he produced proved to be a parchment, lined and aged beyond any number of years I could fathom, and made of a strange sort of animal hide I had never seen before. He handed it to me, and I stepped to the side a few paces to examine it under the traces of moonlight shining through the branches. Sequences of characters were scrawled in black over the surface of the parchment in odd, distinct clusters of shapes. After a moment, John rose from his place and joined me, peering down at the markings, as well.
  “My grandfather gave this to me,” I could feel Thomas watching for my reaction. “Said it’d be important someday. Or at least, that’s what the loremaster told him.”
  The older soldier puffed. “It’s not even in common, Thomas. You can’t read it, how do you know they’re even words?”
  Suddenly I remembered. Memories of searching the library corners, dusty chests, and old desks; old books long forgotten filled with genealogies and official creeds of the Guardian Order, the inspiration for my quest to rebuild the Order once thought mere legend.“I’ve seen these before…” I said.
  He glanced at me, humor fading. “What is it?”
  “I saw it in some of the books in the library of the castle I grew up in.”
  “You mean… it’s an actual language?”
  “I think so…” The closer I looked, the more convinced I became that these symbols matched those I’d seen in the Order books I’d found almost a year ago. Little scribbles along the margins, handwritten notes in the back of the book, or symbols stitched into the leather binding as, I had thought, decoration. Looking at the sweeping designs and geometric placement, indeed this could be mistaken for abstract scribbling of a lethargic artist, but having seen these same exact markings elsewhere, the similarity and distinctness was undeniable.
  This was their language; their code. I longed to know what it said, and wondered if this could possibly be a mere coincidence.
  “See, Capt’n?” Thomas grinned in triumph. “I told you it was writing!”
  I glanced up in time to see the sharp look Dana’s captain shot his subordinate. “Aye, so it might be. Can you read it, my lady?”
  “I can’t read it.” I shook my head.
  “But what is it, then?”
  “I don’t know…” I handed it back to the red haired lad. “Would you keep it safe? I might be able to find someone, somehow, who can read it. You know about the Set and Dana dilemma, I assume?”
  “Aye, my lady. A shame, it is.”
  “Then you would be willing to help me find a way around it?”
  “Of course, my lady.” Even in the darkness I detected the excitement in his expression. “Do you think this writing has anything to do with it?”
  “I’m not sure, but it might. And thank you…”
  He nodded. “My pleasure, my lady.”
  I smiled, this time sincerely.

For The Greatest Good -- Part XVIII (Dana)

Part XVIII – Dana

Our company traveled through the remainder of the day and on through the night. I held the vanguard along with Ross’s scout. My inner compass wove a path that followed his, quieting any doubts I’d had about his change of allegiance. The warriors of the north, my kin, followed our lead. They blended well with our surroundings and disguised our tracks as we went, and I was grateful to be surrounded by familiar faces. Night had passed halfway when I called a halt. We had reached an assortment of stone outcroppings in the midst of the forest. Faint moonlight filtered down through the quiet enclosure.

   “This place will hide us until we see fit to travel once more,” I whispered to the warriors behind me, and signaled to pass the word on. The company scattered to find places of rest until all were hidden by shrubbery and the dim light. I led the scout to a small cave set amidst the forestry. He settled against the wall in a corner. I set my back against a tree trunk just outside the den’s entrance. Footsteps came to my hearing. Two of my warriors strode past to join the scout in the cave. Kearney strode up from behind them and sat with her back to the stone wall just outside the cave, a few paces away from me.

   “How far are we from the prison?” she whispered as she settled herself.

   “It’s a two-day journey, easy,” the scout’s voice replied from the cave’s back. “With the pace we’ve set, we’ll be there by midmorning.”

Kearney acknowledged his reply with a nod and leaned back against the wall. I wrapped my cloak around my body to ward off the faint breeze that flowed past.

   “Is there anything you can tell us about the prison’s layout?” I asked.

   “Nothing that wouldn’t help until we’ve seen the place, I’m afraid. It’s one of Ross’s better guarded ones.”

   “Is there something special about it, besides its wayward location?” Kearney asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. The scout adjusted his seating before he replied.

   “Aye. It was originally a ruin from the old days, some say. Ross renovated it specially when he started the war with your order.”

   “Why only then?” I asked, curious. The man frowned, barely visible in the dim light.

   “I’m not sure. I’ve heard tales about the place, though. They say it was built by older enemies, ones long gone ages ago. IN any case, it has special cells put into it, with special precautions. Rooms made from steel, for instance. Seems a waste to me, but… well, if there’s any truth of the rumors about your order’s powers, Ross certainly believes them.”

I leaned forward on my legs, the scout’s words giving me cause for concern.

   Sounds much like a shadow prison. But it couldn’t be… could it? The order destroyed them all, after…

   “I’ve heard rumors of a prison that’s not a prison,” Kearney said, breaking my musings. “It’s a weapon.”

I glanced at her in question.

   “What do you mean a weapon?”

She shook her head.

   “I’m not fully certain. If I were to guess, I would say booby traps. Very good ones. That is the only explanation I can think of.”

Her suggestion only propelled the suspicion I had, garnered from ancient scripts I’d read.

   “Hm…” I said, “If such were the case, I may have an idea of what we’re getting into.”

I glanced into the cave at Ross’s scout. His eyes had drifted shut, from weariness, I assumed.

   “Our histories speak of such places,” I said, and looked back to Kearney. “Back during the dark years, our enemies would often capture those of our order. These they would keep contained for whatever reason: Study, torture, who knows. But they would build these prison cells in mind for whatever gift the captive had.”

I thought for a moment before I said,

   “In my case, for example, they might somehow fashion a constantly shifting labyrinth. Mayhap this is one of these places, a ruin resurrected by Ross for our capture.”

Kearney frowned, an expression of concern crossing her face as I continued.

   “Ross, if not Set, will be expecting this. He must have considered at some point one of us would come for them. This could be a trap laid for us in mind, specifically.”

Kearney stood and paced back and forth in front of the cave’s entrance.

   “This has to be Set’s doing, not Ross’s,” she said after an interval of silence. “But why hasn’t Set done to Ross what he did to you,” she nodded to the sleeping scout, “and your friends?”

I frowned, bitter experience serving as an aid in my reply.

   “Hey may be able to control to extreme, but doing so is quite obvious. What you saw is what he can do, and a person is well aware, usually, that they’re being controlled. It’s not something easily hidden.”

   “I see…” Kearney replied.

   “Set may be powerful, but if he moved against Ross, he’d be one against thousands. And I have no doubt he’s well aware of that.”

Kearney stared at me, her gaze keen despite the poor light. I stared back.

   “But… I also think Set will put himself in control, somehow, someday,” I said. “Whether that happens sooner or later, we’re the greatest threat to him, knowing who he is and being able to stop him.”

Kearney’s gaze shifted away at this, and I raised a finger to hold her attention.

   “But… we have our advantages.”

   “He won’t win,” Kearney stated with resolution in her voice. “Advantages or no advantages.”

   “Nonetheless,” I replied with a guarded tone, “Consider your brothers. Ross may have them contained, but they have not realized their potential yet. Now that you stand with me, we can convince them. When that happens, we’ll be that much stronger. Who knows what they’ll be able to do! Many of our order in legend were… quite powerful.”

She stared for several moments, and then nodded.

   “Yes… this is to our benefit,” she said.

   “The more there are of us, it will be that much easier to bring Set down,” I said, receiving another nod of agreement. I sighed.

   “I pity Ross’s position. He thinks he has control in this but… I fear he has no idea what he’s with, both with us, and with Set.”

Kearney shook her head.

   “Ross is a greedy fool. I fear my pity for him at present is little,” she said, and walked several paces away into the trees. I watched her go, concern causing a slight frown to cross my face.

   Easy. Ross has done far worse to her.

Kearney suddenly shivered, her fists clenching. She sat down hard next to a nearby tree, and I could see her breathing came hard. I narrowed my eyes. And then I felt it. Just slight, cold touch on my mind that caused me to shiver. I stood and made my way to Kearney’s side. Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t seem to hear my approach.

   “Penny? What’s wrong?” I asked. She started, her eyes snapping open, and her hands grasped for her sword. I stepped back a pace and raised my hands, thoroughly convinced.

   “It was him, wasn’t it?”

Kearney stared at me for several moments before she visibly relaxed.

   “I’m just tired,” she said, though not in a manner that was entirely convincing. I crouched and studied her face. Weariness I could see, yes, but… I caught just a hint of something else, hidden well. Her eyebrows rose in question.

   “Given to us is the power to rebuke darkness,” I said, quietly. “When the time comes... you’ll need to remember that.”

She returned my gaze in silence for several moments.

   “I want to tell me something,” she finally whispered. I nodded once.

   “Tell me there’s another way to stop him.”

I closed my eyes and sighed.

   “Please.”

Fear arose in my mind, in company with sorrow.

   If only she knew what he would do, what he has done.

I made no effort to hide my thoughts from my expression, but when my eyes opened, I did not look up to meet her gaze.

   “I wish there was… maybe, in some repository, there is knowledge of such a thing. But… of such, I have never heard.”

   “I’ll find it; I don’t care where it is or how long it takes.”

A sad smile crossed my face at the resolute steel in her voice.

   Such friends I am given, to both their sorrow and my own.

I lifted my head to meet her eyes.

   “How many more must die, simply for hope of a chance,” I said, half to myself.

   “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that your life means more to everyone else than it does to you. We can figure out how to stop Set without killing him. Then we can find a way to disconnect you both, and then we can deal with him like he ought to be dealt with.”

   “He’s not like us, Kearney,” I replied, ignoring the sting in her words. “He isn’t a person.”

   “Then how do you know killing him will even stop him?” she demanded. “What if it doesn’t? What then? We’ll have lost you, and then Set will be stronger than ever.”

   “Because it’s happened before.”

She set her jaw, and my gaze wandered up to the treetops as I recalled the words of scrolls I’d studied.

   “Long ago, during our order's golden years, Set's kind rose up in great numbers. Dark shadows of the true order's knights, and they amassed armies of deluded followers. We fought them, were ever stronger. But the cost of slaying each shadow meant losing a comrade, and we could not contain them imprisoned for all time.”

I sat on the mossy earth, keeping my thought trail upon the tale I told.

   “Therefore, those of the order, all who had a shadow twin, met in secret and embarked on a desperate mission, and threw themselves in a suicide attack against the shadow order."

I looked down to the ground between us.

   “Their sacrifice succeeded. They shadow order disappeared, never to be seen for hundreds of years.”

I glanced at Kearney, and she looked away.

   “If there was another way, how could they, in the golden age of our order, not find it?” I asked.

She gave no reply.

   “Even if you think I don’t care about my life, I do. It scares me, and I wonder why I alone have this problem, so often. But I’ve had to live with this for many years, and I’ve seen what Set can do if left unchecked. I’m willing to stop him, no matter what it takes.”

Again, Kearney said nothing, her face expressionless. I looked down.

   “If you had a shadow twin… would you?” I asked.

   “I don’t know,” she replied, her voice soft.

   “Good. Because honestly…. I don’t want to.”

I felt silent and rested my head on my knees. For several moments I sat in silence, Kearney doing the same. I glanced up at the night sky; all hope of sleep had fled from my body, weary as I might be.

   “I’ll be with the watchmen if you need me,” I said, and stood. Kearney nodded, though her gaze seemed distant. I walked away into the forest.