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

Odd

So I was rummaging through my old documents, and I found this poem/limerick thing that I composed a couple years ago while still in Florida. It's called Odd.

Odd

by Penny Kearney

I probably shouldn’t be

But it always surprises me
How odd I really am

It’s just the little things
I don’t know I’m doing

Then I look up and see them

The laundry basket
Of unfolded clothes
Still sitting at the end of my bed
And yesterday I read
From beginning to end
My devotions out loud to my dog

I got angry today
and got down on my knees
and scrubbed the whole floor ‘til it sparkled
I kill off my characters
In cold hearted swiftness
Then regret it the second it’s finished

Cartwheels are fun
And spontaneous song
And random trips to the mall
Sometimes it’s enough
For no apparent reason
To wrestle a volleyball from my brother
Or carry around
An invisible crown
And toss it from one to another

Nothing makes sense
Perhaps it’s just impulse
But I do know one thing for certain
Without all these quirks
Though they serve no other purpose
I would have to be some other person

And where would be the fun in that?

 

Dia duit,
~Penny



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.

Hello World; I'm back!

I think this must be a record for how long it's taken me to post since the last time I've posted. Explanation?

You got it.

Week One:

OYAN! The 2013 OYAN Summer Workshop, as some of you may know, took place from the 17th to the 22nd of June. I and my brother Seph were the only ones from my family that attended this year, but both Dana and Siani also attended, so we made a good little group, in the end.

As usual, the Workshop was amazing. In four words, inspiring, encouraging, fortifying, and enlightening.

Inspiring. Here's a confession: I had begun to lose faith in my dreams. You know what happens to dreams when you lose faith in them? They slowly, painfully begin to die. I'm the kind of person who dreams big. Enormous, wild dreams of wondrous things -- anything, everything! My Mother has always told me "not to make a big production" of projects I would launch myself into. Being my Mother, she was and still is, quite right. But I had begun to go in the opposite direction, internally discouraging myself from trying for anything too fantastic, settling for second, third, or even fourth best simply to remain 'realistic'. The only thing, believe it or not, that kept me from giving up all together was remembering when Dana told me not to. "Don't give up on your dreams." Every time I became discouraged, I thought of that. (Thanks, Dana, by the way.)

There's something about knowing that others believe in your dreams -- or just in dreaming, for that matter -- that  suddenly makes your wildest hopes feel possible. The things you don't dare let yourself believe in, spring to life and beckon to you. And now you feel safe in pursuing them, in making them happen, because you're not alone.

The OYAN Summer Workshop proves that neither I, nor anyone like me, with visions of changing the world through story, are not alone. We are never alone. There are others like us, and they are dreamers, too.

"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream at night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake to find it was vanity. But the dreamers of the day or dangerous men, for they may act upon their dreams with open eyes to make them possible." ~ T.E. Lawrence

Encouraging. Similar to what I said before, each time I go to OYAN I learn something new. The Workshop gives writers invaluable tools to act upon those wild dreams of ours. Wonderfully insightful teachers, but not just insightful and experienced, but teachers and speakers who truly care about the OYAN community and want to see it flourish. Not only are we allowed to dream, but encouraged to, and given the tools to succeed.

Fortifying. This one is harder to explain, but there is something about being surrounded by not just other writers, but other OYANers that makes one feel like they can take on the entire world fearlessly. The Reunion part of the Workshop strengthens friendships that normally only happen over the internet. You get to see, hear, touch, and embrace those you've come to love, and even those you didn't even know you loved before, in person. Never discount the power of real life, in person interaction with other human beings, folks!

Enlightening. Back to learning something new every time, but in this sense I mean in a less technical sort of way, and a more sobering one. Not only did I see the light, but the darkness, also. The opposition, the enemy, the battle and struggle, both present and future, we are engaged in simply because of the dreams we have. Dangerous dreams, dreams that will change the world. In all honesty; I'm not kidding. And when there are dreams that will change the world, there will be those who want to crush them. People, ideals, the devil himself. It's hard to see some of those forces at work within the community I love so much. It is at the same time, however, something I glad to know of. I don't want to be naïve, and it is a good test of character to see if I -- or anyone for that matter -- will still love even when there is conflict. To know who will support you, and who you must support. And whether or not you'll stick out the fight, or if you'll lower to the enemy's standards, for the latter is far easier.

All in all, the OYAN Summer Workshop (any one of them) is an experience I enjoy and treasure more than words can express.

Week Two:

Home again! We flew home bringing Dana and Siani with us to stay for the rest of the week. So awesome to have them over for that extra bit of time there without the business of the Workshop schedule. Having Ani about in person was great fun. It's only been a year since I saw her, but it felt like it'd been years and ages. It's always great to see her in person, no matter how long it's been since we last saw each other.

We also had Wynni over for a few days, so our house was quite full. (Wynni is awesome, just so y'all know. A happy ray of sunshine. <3) I organized a LARP/IG for that Wednesday, but I'll probably write a blog post on that later.

Week Three:

Ani left, and Dana stuck around for a bit longer. Also great to have him around. He started this routine of going outside every evening around nine to watch the fireflies over the cornfield. Before long I and my brothers started doing it, too, which made for some fascinating conversations, as well as some comfortable silences. You know you're with a good friend when silence is as easily shared as conversation.

Oh, and Gypsy simply adores him. I have absolutely no idea why, but right from the first time she met him, she became attached to him almost as much as she is attached to me. This is strange because normally Gypsy is very much a one person dog. I don't know what it is about Dana that she loves so much, but whatever it is, it's got her hook, line and sinker. She has been quite sullen lately now that she's figured out he isn't coming back, and finds my ball throwing skills deplorable. Which they are, so I can't blame her. Dana is much better at that than I am and she knows it.

I think that's pretty much it for now. I'm sure I left out a few details, but nothing important. Hopefully this is an adequate explanation for my absence.

And don't worry about FtGG. Dana and I will get right back on that very soon.

Dia duit,
~Penny

For The Greatest Good -- Part XVII (Penny)

Part XVII -- Account by Penny Kearney

 

 “I told your friend….”I began, resolve slowly settling.  “Everone has a weakness.”

  He stared at me dully, though his brows drew lower. “Aye. What of it.”

  “I need you to help me find Set’s. For the sake of your fellow comrades, will you help me?”

   His whole being gave a tremor, as if some invisible tendril of terror curled around him like the ropes still holding him to the tree, and tightened.

  “It won’t do no good. We’re all afraid of that dark one…”

  “I’m afraid of him, too.” My hearbeat skipped. “But we have to try.”

  His voice resonated with panic. “I don’t know him at all, this was my first assignment under him! I don’t know what you want, I can’t help you…”

  I placed my hands on his shoulders, near his neck, looking into his eyes. His skin was hot against my touch, and I could feel the throb of his pulse under my fingers, but he stilled under my gaze.

  “Just think, and let me watch.”

  I knew he wouldn’t be able to help thinking. I’d be able to see whether he wanted it or not, even if it was only the few seconds in which his thoughts rose to consciousness before he could hide them again. With sharp focus, I located the sensation of the connection to him, and held fast to it. His erratic thought patterns tumbled through my head, flashes of images and feelings of cold, darkness, and fear.

  Set. Angry, like when he’d burst into my cell after I’d contacted Dana. Out of control, furious, and….afraid. Somewhere, Dana. And danger… death?

  The image of Set became clearer, and he turned, the same, piercing gaze coming upon me again.

  No longer just memories.

  I severed the connection before he could reach the clarity he had before in the other messenger, realizing how fast my heart was racing and breathing shallowly as the strange sensations of the relived memories fade and leave my mind free to its own identity. I refocused my gaze on the man before me.

  He stared back, his expression blank for a long moment. Lost. Surrendered. Then, his features changed, taking on the form of a grim smile. His voice, now confident and teasing.

  “This is only getting easier, Kearney.”

  I pulled my hands back as he jerked forward, the ropes creaking in warning, and the numbing smile still on his face. My hand went to the hilt of my sword, and I glared back defiantly.

  “Keep coming, Set.” My tone was hard. “We may tremble, but in the end, it is the proud who fall.”

  Before he could give an answer, Dana appeared at my side. The messenger’s – or rather, Set’s – gaze shifted to him, and he froze. Dana stepped forward and pressed the man’s shoulders back against the tree, gently, his expression one of pity more than anything else.

  I watched him, uncertain as to what he was doing. But as Dana held the man’s gaze, Set’s control seemed to recede, replaced by the man’s terrified expression.

  “Help me, please, get him out, help me!” His words came as a blur, barely intelligible.

  Dana sighed deeply, and placed his hand on the man’s forehead, shutting his eyes.

  What are you doing?

  “You won’t have this one!” Set suddenly returned, jerking his victim in spasms. “He’s mine, like the others. You cannot save them, you cannot—“

  A cry tore from the messenger’s throat, flying upwards, piercing the treetops towards the sky. Dana opened his eyes as the man sank back against the trunk, now with his own features again evident, all trace of Set’s influence erased.

  I let a moment pass before asking. “What did you do?”

  Dana stepped back, his appearance somewhat tired. “Our gifts; they’re not meant for us only.”

  Frowning, I waited for him to continue.

  He gave me a slight smile, rubbing his hand. “I learned, early on, reading the scripts we kept in our libraries. What I read, I used after Set and I met. Our gifts can help those touched by shadow.” He gestured to the messenger, whose face was just beginning to regain its color. “I helped him find his way.”

  My brow smoothed in understanding. The implications of Dana’s words were enormous.

  “You’ll learn eventually.” He continued, drawing his longknife to cut the messenger free from the tree. “Already your gift is waxing stronger, isn’t it?”

  “It’s getting easier to use. But for all the ability I seem to have connecting to others thoughts, so far the only thing I’ve managed to do is give Set our location. I think next time I had better leave interrogations to you.” I glanced at the cliff face visible through the trees. “It will take him just under a day to reach this location, aye?”

  Dana’s knifeblade sliced through the ropes, one cord at a time, with ease. “Aye, if they were on foot. Mounted, less than two hours.”

  “Then we had best go.” Looking down, I realized I had drawn my sword. I knew not when, but I sheathed it, going over the directions I’d garnered from the other man that would lead us to the prison.

  One of Dana’s men cut through the bonds of the third messenger, who had gone mostly ignored over the course of the interrogation, and the moment he was free, he took off into the trees. I watched him go, ignoring the instinct to run after him. He could do no harm, now. No more than was already done.

  Dana sighed. “A wasted life is never worth the effort. Mayhap Set will let him live….or not.”

  The first, however, once freed, dropped to one knee before Dana and I.

  “Thank you, both of you, so much for what you’ve done. Thank you!”

  I blinked in surprise. The drastic and sudden swap in his demeanor towards us left me at a loss for whether to believe him or not, so Dana responded, leaning over and pulling him to his feet.

  “Easy there; I’m certainly no king, and she’s not your queen. Will you help us?”

  The man nodded eagerly. “Aye, that I will. I’ve been there before, and will gladly show the way for you.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  He glanced at me, and I nodded, allowing both him and our new scout to lead the way. I fell into step behind them, replaying the flashes of Set I’d found in our ex-captive’s memories. But I shook my head, unable to sort out the confusing twist of feelings that had accompanied the images themselves.

  First things first. My brothers. Soon, we would reach the prison, and we would rescue them, because by some mercy of the Creator’s, Set’s order for execution had not arrived before us.

For The Greatest Good -- Part XVI (Penny)

Part XVI – Account by Penny Kearney

 

  The first thing that registered when my thoughts awoke was the dull ache in my muscles from having lain in the same position for so long. I winced, pushing myself up and opening my eyes. The lucid awareness of my mind surprised me.

  How long have I slept?

  It had to have been some time in order for me to feel so rested. And Dana had not woken me. He must have fallen asleep somewhere, as well. Crawling between the deftly twisted branches that hid me in my little den, I hoped he’d found somewhere out of sight in case someone showed up and—

  I lifted my gaze, and froze.

  Someone had showed up. A lot of someones.

  Occupying what had been an empty copse, there stood – or sat or laid, quite at home in their surroundings – warriors both armed and armored for battle. Swords, spears, and shields reflected the sunlight pouring through the treetops with dull sheens, each soldier clad in leather armor and a cloak.

  Several of the men glanced up at my emergence, but none registered surprise, merely nodding in greeting or offering a smile as one of them rose and paced off into the trees. Collectively, they bore a somewhat similar resemblance to Dana in both dress and features.

  Wary, I rose to my feet, wishing I had any sort of weapon close at hand.  The warrior nearest me raised his hand in peaceful greeting, approaching my position. “Do not be alarmed, miss.” He said. “You’re safe here.”

  I eyed him, taking in his appearance in more detail. He was taller than Dana, with darker hair, navy eyes, and a faded scar along his chin. His tone, while even, had a more commanding quality to it rather than a soothing one. Still, he seemed pleasant enough, and an easy smile on his lips to offset the strength of authority in his demeanor towards me.

  “You’ll forgive me,” I replied. “But my experience with ‘safe’ hasn’t been an overly good one as of late.” I shifted my gaze, shivering once against a gust of wind that wound through the pine trees, laden with the sharp scent of sap. “You’re Dana’s men?”

  The group nodded in affirmation, while the speaker continued. “Aye. I’m John MacCullen, at your service, and to the order.”

  I glanced a partial smile at John MacCullen in acknowledgement of his introduction, but said nothing.

  “MacDonald should be along soon,” He said. “He was checking up with the rest of the men after we found you.”

  As if on cue, Dana appeared. His attire now resembled the other warriors’, and the hilt of the lance strapped to his back showed over his right shoulder. I folded my arms, relaxing at his approach, while John and the other men took their leave to attend to tasks a short distance away.

  “Glad to see you’re awake.” Dana nodded in satisfaction and motioned for me to sit. “I have provisions here for you, and water as well, if you’re up to it.”

  I hesitated, casting a glance about me, but finally did as Dana bade me and seated myself at the base of one of the nearby pine trees. Dana sat nearby, and handed me a hunk of bread, some dried fruit and meat, and a flask of water. I took them all, my stomach grumbling at me in spite of the forthcoming meal.

  “Thanks.”

  He sat in silence for several minutes while I ate. That combined with the food and water helped me dust away the last few sleepy cobwebs still lurking in the corners of my thoughts.

  But some of the tension remained.

  Percy and Seph.

  “This is what’s left of my cohort;” Dana’s voice distracted my thoughts, and I listened, setting down the water flask. “Ross had sent a company after them, far too many in number to face alone. They pulled them back to the Jarran Marshes, used the terrain to fight them there. I’ve….about a third of my number left to offer…. Hopefully it should be enough for our use.”

  “When was this?”

  “A week and a half ago. Apparently, when you were attacked, that was only two thirds of Ross’s forces.”

  I leaned back against the tree. “Lovely.”

  “Aye… In any case, there are messengers up the mountain to watch Campbell’s fortress. So far there’s been no movement.”

  “What about the messenger sent to the people holding my brothers?” I shifted my gaze to watch his face.

  A faint smile traced his lips. “Having lost both contact and numbers, my cohort have made their way here according to how our people travel. Forest routs, masking their passage. However, not yesterday, they came upon a small company attempting to strike Northeast.”

  My breath caught, hope daring to ripple the surface of my heart.

  “In short,” He said. “The messenger is tied to a tree over that way.” He motioned back over his shoulder.

  The fear that had built up inside me, that I had done my best to ignore and press through, dissolved like the rush of an outgoing tide. My eyes closed, voice barely above a whisper. “Thank God…..”

  Dana continued. “Both our blades are taken. However, Ross has no idea where we are, what our state is, and thinks he has diminished our number.”

  I merely nodded, unable to speak without risking tears.

  They’re safe. They’re not going to be killed. 

  Dana fell silent. I could feel his gaze on me, but once again he allowed the quiet to stretch as I stilled my emotions.

  “Now…” He began again. “I believe you favor light blades, aye?”

  Looking up, I beheld the straightsword he extended towards me, holding the blade so the hilt faced me.  I drew a breath, wrapping my fingers around the hilt of the weapon, and rose to my feet.

  Dana released the blade. “How would you feel about a rescue mission?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it since the moment they entered that prison.”

  “Then if you command, O queen,” He smiled, handing me the sheathe and belt to match my weapon. “We will set forth within the hour for the prison in question.”

  “You know where it is?”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “Not at the moment, no. But our captured messenger does. He’s not spoken to me so far, but hopefully we should be able to convince him otherwise.”

  Sheathing my sword, I rested an expectant gaze on him.

  He nodded, stepping past me. “I had a feeling. This way.”

  I followed Dana through the trees, deeper into the surrounding forest, and fastened the sword belt around my damp waist. Underbrush snapped beneath my boots, fallen pine needles blanketed the ground, and on some distant tree, a songbird, unaware of the events below, warbled its tune into the wind. Dana’s men saluted as we passed them. Glancing back once, I noticed MacCullen trailing us. I guessed because he reported to Dana directly, and thus stayed nearby.  Admittedly, being surrounded by these warriors from the North, in spite of our current situation, did well to ease my mind, though it reminded me of my own force, all massacred by Set.

  Three trees came into sight, and Dana slowed. To each tree was tied a man, bruised, gagged, and garbed in the livery of Ross. Several of Dana’s men stood on guard near them, but as we approached, MacCullen ordered them to stand down, and they moved away a few paces. The sight of these three messengers coiled the warmth of anger around my heart. These men, who would condemn my brothers to death in service of a tyrant.

  Stepping forward, Dana pulled the gag from the center prisoner.

  Freed, the man spat, dull brown eyes flashing. “Here to try again, O noble one? I told you before, I’ll say nothing!”

  Dana just smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t be asking you any questions. Not now, at least.”

  Standing just behind Dana, I looked the prisoner up and down. His gaze shifted to me, and a leering smile curled his lips. “You expect her to make me talk? You’re an idiot. Though I could think of a few ways that might convince me…”

  Fury seethed into Dana’s demeanor in an instant. He stepped forward, fist clenched. I grasped his arm.  A long moment passed, Dana’s glare boring into the maddeningly smug expression of the messenger, but finally he drew a long, deep breath and backed off.

  “As you wish, your highness.” He murmured.

  The messenger chuckled. “Look at that, just like a puppy. She must have a proper hold on you, that one.”

  Several rather uncomfortable methods of interrogation drifted through my mind. This fool really had no idea what I felt capable of doing right now. Only my conscience restrained me, but even that was coming close to being pushed far enough to snap.  “He’s a puppy with a fairly nasty bite. One I won’t prohibit him from demonstrating if you aren’t careful.”

  “Or what? He’ll slap me? Drive a knee in, maybe? Or, if I’m lucky, give me a taste of that little lance of his?” His smile vanished. “Do your worst, dark hair, I’m no hillbound rebel.”

  “That much I can see.”

  He narrowed his eyes, seeming to scrutinize me more closely, now. Dana had moved back, so I stood right in front of the messenger, and returned his gaze without reaction.

  “One with a brain, then.” He said at last. “Figures that one of you would have one. Doesn’t make any difference. There’s nothing you can do that….”

  Something flickered behind his eyes in that split second of hesitation.

  Fear?

  “You won’t get anything.” He stated. I could see him begin to close up.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, tilting my head a fraction.

  This time he didn’t have a comeback. He just glared and looked away.

  I shrugged. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll be forced to make one up.”

  “I hope that’s not too hard for you.” He muttered.

  “No, I’m good with names.”

  “Not much else, though,” The messenger snorted, condescending to look at me again. “Judging by your success on the battlefield.”

  That remark cut me far more than I let on, the face of Rex and my other brave soldiers flashing through my mind. “Well… “ I tapped the rope holding him securely to the pine tree. “I’m not exactly the one tied to a tree at the moment.”

  “Says the one whose entire army is dead in a field a few leagues yonder…”

  “And the one whose brothers you were about to sentence to death.”

  I doubted he fully grasped the meaning of my statement. My conscience took another step towards the edge. I was just about through trying kinder methods to convince this man to talk.

  “I don’t care.” He snapped. “Worst you can do is kill me. Torture, hah. Apparently your ‘noble order’ doesn’t allow that. But even if you do…. There’s nothing that will work.”

  I stepped closer, dropping my tone, gaze sharp. “Everyone has a weakness.”

  His expression hardened.  “You aren’t it.”

  “Oh, no.” I managed a dry smile, my gaze flickering meaningfully towards the messenger’s companion.

   While I gained no reaction from the man before me, his comrade sagged against his bonds, brow glistening with sweat. The cold light of fear shone clearly in his eyes.

  Dana walked up and removed the gag on the second man, who cried, “Kill us, take us with you, anything! We can’t go back, or even forward, as failures. He’ll….he’ll punish us….”

  My expression cleared. Finally, some leverage. I stepped back from the first man, who lowered his head, the same glint of fear passing behind his eyes before he could hide it.

  “Who will punish you?”I asked, addressing neither man in particular, and even giving the third a brief glance, though he showed even less indication of compliance.

  No one spoke. A kind of invisible terror seemed to have taken hold of them, sealing their silence, until Dana demanded of the prisoner before him, “Who! Tell me!”

  Both men flinched under Dana’s intense gaze. All arrogance dissolved by apprehension, the first messenger murmured a response.

  “He’s looking at him.”

  Dana blinked, and then pulled back, realization widening his eyes in surprise and sympathy. “You mean….Set.”

  I nodded to myself, suspicion confirmed.

  “He can burn you, just by lookin’ at you!” The messenger’s skin paled near white, his tone a haunted, terrified whisper. “Gets in your head, voice echoing round and round and round…. All the while stabbing like daggers, but you can’t do nothing about it! Nothing!”

  My heart skipped a beat as I remembered the sensation of Set’s thoughts invading mine in the throne room when he’d searched my mind for my Gift.

  The messenger’s gaze became distant. “Even now I can hear it… laughing… smiling….. Make it stop….” His voice rose.  “Make it stop, please!”

  His cry echoing through the treetops, he thrashed against his bonds, desperate to tear free and escape. Not a sound came forth in his struggle, as if he were reliving some horrific memory. I motioned to Dana’s men standing nearby, even as Dana himself grasped the messenger’s shoulders, but before they took more than two steps, the messenger uttered a piercing, lone cry, and fell limp.

  Pressing his hand against the man’s neck, Dana announced, “He’s.... dead.” Shock rang in his tone.

  My lips parted in utter surprise. It was then I realized how fast my heart was racing, and the curved chill that threaded through me.

  Was that all Set’s doing? Are these the kinds of things he’s capable of?

  “You see?” The first messenger spoke again, bitterness in his tone. “Sooner or later, we’re dead anyway. It’d be almost a mercy if you killed us now, before we end up like him. If you don’t do what Set says….. he takes your mind. And with it….your life.”

  In spite of the dread hanging thick in the air, I got an idea. “And what is it he says?”

  I focused my gaze, and my thoughts, straining to find and grasp some form of connection to his mind. The strange sensation whispered through the back of my mind, until it caught, like a briar snagging on fabric. It felt different than when I’d connected with Dana, somehow rougher, and instead of conscious thoughts came images, fast and muddled. But clear in the blur of recollections was the image of Set, staring into the man’s eyes in with the same drilling, hypnotic, maddening stare. Tightening my jaw, I forced myself to maintain the link. The messenger had to give up the location of the prison sooner or later…

  “…go North,” Set’s voice curled into my mind out of the messenger’s memory. “Until you reach the Western woods, and travel East through them until you reach the downs. From there, South, and you will find the prison within a small copse of trees. Order them to take….”

  The connection in my head shifted, and no longer was Set looking into the man’s eyes, but mine.

  Peircing. Pain. Fear.

  “I can see you, Kearney.” His voice clawed. “And you had better start running.”

  With a cry, I snapped the connection, jerking back and clutching my head. The unbearable throbbing hammered my skull and for a moment it seemed my whole head would burst.

  “Penny!” Dana’s voice sounded broken to my ears. “What’s wrong?”

  The pain faded, draining away and leaving remnants of a dull ache, which gradually dissipated, as well. Now all I felt was the thumping of my own pulse running wildly through my veins.

  “I know where to go.” I rasped. “We have to leave now. He knows where we are.”

  “What?! How did he find out?”

  “I don’t know! Just get everyone ready, and tell them to follow me.”

  He motioned to his men listening nearby as I brushed past. They ducked into the shrubbery, calling out orders.

  “What about these two?” He gestured to the remaining captives.

  I paused, looking back. The spurs of urgency eased a little as I managed to relax enough to consider Dana’s question.

  The leader met my gaze with sunken eyes. “Just kill us. Please.”

  Another idea.

  You’re an idiot, Penny.

  Yeah, for giving away our one advantage. I have to try and make up for that.

  Just don’t make it worse.

  Drawing several breaths, I paced back towards the trees. “How long will it take your men to mobilize, Dana?”

  “Less than half an hour.” He replied. “We need to wait for our advance scouts to return.”

  There’s time.

  “Then give me a moment. But stay nearby, in case I need your assistance.”

  He nodded, giving orders to three men who’d come to receive them from him, and walked a few paces closer to observe.

  Once again I stood before the messenger.

  This had better work.

And So Life Goes On

Shockingly enough, I still exist. I very much miss spending time posting things on my blog, but life has been a bit consuming as of late, what with unpacking and all. I'm actually sitting in the disaster area that is my bedroom at the moment, taking a break from sifting through rather disorganized boxes.

This winter weather has made me desperate for an Imagination Game. It's far too cold outside at the moment to play one, but my head is practically spinning with ideas!

More recently I've been considering our Lore world, and the difficulties that arise from trying to re-weave fairytales and legends in a magic free, more Conservative way. This has been a task I've performed so many times in the past. Though I write fantasy, I do not 'do' magic, which has opened up endless possibilities in finding plausible scientific ways of allowing special powers and non-human races to exist. I enjoy doing this very much, even though it can be a chore sometimes, but I'm also trying to find out where even the scientifically explained powers become just a little to magical in spite of my efforts. In short, I'm finding that not all powers are created equal. One of the things I attempt to avoid is having the characters'/world's powers not end up being too weird, even if they can be explained through biological or chemical means. Because then it's more like magic by another name rather than, say, a biological ability of a certain race.

We have turned wizards and witches into alchemists and healers, given limited biological abilities to fairies, pixies, sprites, and brownies, and turned some ancient gods and goddesses into humans with regeneration abilities and vast knowledge of history called Nimues. So you see, we've rewoven and toned down things I personally would find objectionable in a story or Imagination Game.

But what about a Nimue who resides in a stretched timestream, so that a portion of herself is in the future, giving her glimpses of what could be? How far can one go? When does even the scientific become too alike to the supernatural? I want to be different. I want the middle ground, the perfect mixture of fantasy and reality. I don't want to give up the fantastic for the realistic, but I also don't want to use reality as an excuse for the fantastic rather than an explanation. I want all the pieces to work together; to balance.

It is an interesting labyrinth to try and navigate, and I'm certain I don't get it right all the time, but I do, at least, try my best. That's what counts the most in anything anyone does, I think.

Dia duit,
~Penny

PS
And if you're wondering why I'm not posting pictures anymore, it's because silly blogger has a glitch and won't let me upload my own photos. Meh.