A Quest of my Own

Well, this is Aaron. Say hello, Aaron.


"Hello...."

There's a good boy. He's not used to me talking to him, so he may seem slightly hesitant. Why don't you tell our readers who you are, Aaron.

Aaron clears his throat. "My name is Aaron Troughton, son of the town weaponsmith in Kanterville."

Which is in Ynera, one of the kingdoms in south-central Xystia.

"Aye."

Aaron is the main character of a short story I wrote, oh, about three years ago, I believe. I can't recall for certain, but at any rate, I wrote it for a short story class my brothers and I took some time ago, and since then, I have been editing it off and on between working on the Outlander Trilogy and other writing projects. Well, finally, the time has come to actually publish it. My family -- my grandfather in particular -- has been nagging me to get something published. "Official", as they call it, and I attempt not to take offense at that. I have about a million things written that took quite some effort to get out of my head and onto paper, thank you very much. Just not as much of it is coherently edited, much to, it seems, pretty much everyone's great dismay and exasperation.

Aaron doesn't care either way, do you, Aaron?

Aaron scratches his head and shrugs.

See? Anyway. I'm posting this to say a couple things. The first thing is obvious; I'm publishing Aaron's Quest. Well, the first edition of it, at any rate.

The second thing is that I'm going to the 2013 OYAN Summer Workhop with my brother, Seph, which starts this coming Monday. That means I won't be around to post anything for at least a week. We're bringing back Ani and Dana and Wynni to stay with us for a week or so after that, so I'll probably be busy then, as well. I promise to do my best to take as many pictures as possible, as well as some video of this year's Celtic Day at the SW.

So, until I get Aaron's Quest published, that's all for now. Say goodbye, Aaron.

"Farewell." Aaron smiles and waves.

He seems such a sedate little fellow--

"I'm not little."

--but he has quite a bit in him, I assure you. He does turn up in book three of the Outlander Trilogy, at least once. Deciding that actually made finishing his story tolerable. I've been editing that dratted manuscript so much it drove me bonkers. Only near the end did I decide to set the story in Ynera, one of the kingdoms in Xystia, which is the story world for the Outlander Trilogy. Rather than medieval England. Research.... Not my favorite thing in the world.

And neither is formatting. FORMATTING. Ick.

Aaron fidgets."Should I say farewell again, or can I go?"

Say farewell again, because I'm done now. Really.

Aaron waves again. "Farewell!"

Dia duit,
~Penny

PS
Gracious, I can't believe I forgot to mention this! The illustrations in Aaron's Quest, including the one of Aaron that I included in this post, were all done by Robert Carter. He did an excellent job; the cartoon style drawings fit perfectly with the tone of the story itself. Thanks, Robert!

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.

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.

Hear the Whispers

A couple months ago -- or something like that -- I came up with a song for my Lore villain, Morganna Le Faye. She seemed to me the type who'd sing a haunting, somewhat unsettling lullaby, and since I've semi-composed tunes before, it wasn't too difficult to plunk out this one on the piano. The words took some time to compose, but they, too, finally made it into existence. The video below is just the piano tune. I've been sick for the past week, so singing the lyrics isn't an option just yet, but I do plan to do it. Eventually.

 

 

So yes. There it is. Enjoy!

Dia duit,
~Penny

Dream Scribbles -- Danny

Another little segment based on a dream I had.

All I know in regards backstory is that Danny and I are friends, and we uncovered some dark secret earlier somehow related to an organization.

~*~

“Come on.” I hissed.

  The hotel room was dark, but I could see Danny’s form move as a shadow away from the dresser towards me. Satisfied, I paced with silent footsteps to the door and peered through the smudged peephole into the hall. I felt Danny draw near behind me, waiting for the verdict.

  “Clear.” I said, and yanked open the door. It creaked on its hinges and scraped on the uneven carpet.

  Urgency surged through my body. I plunged into dimly lit hall. The door to our hotel room – number 203 – was one of seven doors lining the wall at intervals. Across from the wall, a railing; a straight drop two stories down to the ground floor. The open staircase led downwards – ten steps, landing, turn; ten steps, landing, turn; all the way down – beginning at the end of the hall, across from 201’s door. The air smelled of water and mold. Paint peeled on the concrete walls, and the electric wiring for each light showed in twisted strands of yellow, blue, and red, like a broken spider web against the ceiling. The lights themselves flickered at uneven intervals.

  He could show up anywhere. This fear burdened my steps, and I hesitated, fearing I would run right into him if I went to quickly.

  Danny touched my back. “Go.”                                                                                  

  His touch prompted me more than his words. I nodded, lengthening my strides towards the stairs, noticing more the weight of the gun in the drop holster strapped to my leg. Danny always kept his wits in tense situations, and helped me keep mine when they began to fray.  Which they always did.

  We had to get out of the building. But that wasn’t it, we had to find somewhere else to hide, and couldn’t stop until we did. The last time we stopped for too long –

  “Why the rush?” The voice echoed from behind us.

  My heartbeat faltered. I whirled, to find Danny already facing the man.

  He stood six feet away from us, as grotesque as I remembered him. His build sagged like a deflating river raft, bulging, heavy set. The dimples of his smile pushed into his cheeks like poles holding up a tent, and his grey eyes, peering out beneath drooping lids, gleamed with a sort of mad intelligence that contradicted the sobriety of the rest of his appearance. In his hands he gripped an SMG.

  He’d found us.

  My mind raced, flying far faster than I thought possible. I glanced at Danny’s back. He didn’t move, but I could tell his thoughts spun as quickly as mine, working to find a solution. His muscles were tight.  His hand hovered near his gun. We’d tried to outdraw him before, though, and had paid dearly. And this time he had a more powerful gun already aimed at us.

  It was me he was after, not Danny.

  I darted down the stairs. His glittering gaze lit afresh at my movement, and Danny hissed my name.

  Our enemy’s smile vanished. “Stop or I’ll kill him.”

  I halted on the first landing, ready to dodge at a moment’s notice. “Don’t waste the ammo.” I replied. He wouldn’t bother with Danny if he thought I would get away.

  He swung his gun in my direction. I dropped flat a split second before gunfire erupted through the air. Bullets impacted the wall, shards of concrete showered over me, and I thought for sure one of the projectiles would ricochet into my body. Echoes hammered the air as I scrambled away, but the course of the strafe veered suddenly upwards. I stole a glance, pausing.

  Danny jumped the man, slamming him back against the wall.

  “Danny, no!” I screamed.

  The gun went off. The back of Danny’s jacket tore, releasing clouds of red as the bullets passed through him.

  With a thud muted by the lingering noise, Danny collapsed. The SMG was aimed at me again, and the man’s grey eyes fairly blazed as he squeezed and held down the trigger. I tripped over myself down the stairs, just barely managing to tumble out of range. He was insane for shooting in here with the concrete walls; he could be killed by a ricocheting bullet just as easily as I. Jumping to my feet and ignoring the throbbing in my shoulder, I ran down the last few sets of stairs. The man pursued me, taking position on the second landing and firing each time I came in range.

  At last I hit the ground floor. I lost my footing and toppled onto my side with a cry, but on a sudden instinct, I lay motionless. Bullet casings clattered on the ground near me. My heart thundered against my ribs, but I forced myself take in shallow breaths.

  The echoes died. The stairwell fell silent. With my eyes closed, I couldn’t see if he was peering down at me from a few flights up, seeing if I was dead, but I could feel his gaze on me.

  At last, footsteps.

  Wait for it.

  Sheer will power kept me from jumping up and running right then. No, I had to wait until he was on the flight just above me, the one flight where he wouldn’t be able to see me sneak away.

  Wait for it…

  Step, step, step…. I could hear him changing the magazine on his gun, then finally… Directly overhead.

  I pushed myself up, and ran on the balls of my feet to the side door not ten feet away. My ears rang, so I couldn’t tell if I moved in true silence or not. The door hung partway open on a loose hinge, and I slipped, managing to barely brush it, lest the creaking should alert my pursuer of my departure before I had time to get a good head start.

  The muggy evening air engulfed me. I ran. Ran as fast as my feet would take me, and didn’t look back.

~*~

I haven't written the next part of the dream, which involves me trying to decide between revenge and forgiveness. Maybe I'll write it down later...

Dia duit,
~Penny

Hoffman Estates Celtic Fest 2013

Scottish Thistle Pendant for me.

Back from another full day! Seems our days have been and will continue to be fairly busy for the duration of the summer, with the OYAN Summer Workshop in June, the filming of Blades of Honor, and the picking season soon starting on the VanLaar Fruit Farm soon, as well. On top of that all the writing I need to do..... Yeah.

Anyway. Today was the Celtic Fest. It was most enjoyable, actually; held in a Sears Centre about an hour away from where we live. The centre itself was large, but the event, while not neglected, certainly, wasn't super packed, either. We listened to some great Celtic music, got to see a whole bunch of kilts, and listen to random bagpipe music, as well. Rosie and I both got something from the pewter merchant I mentioned in my previous post. I'd been eyeing that Scottish Thistle pendant last time, and the Celtic Knot one caught Rosie's eye. She's always liked rubies. We both had a difficult time deciding what to get.... She found three different pendants she liked, and I had to choose which Scottish Thistle design -- out of three designs there -- I liked the best. We observed, deliberated, conferred, left, and came back again, deliberated a little more, and finally made our choice. Needless to say, the vendors were amused.



Celtic Knot Pendant for Rosie.

One of my other little brothers has been waiting all week since last week to meet this merchant. See, he's somewhat of a strategist and history buff, so when we told him that this merchant had little pewter Revolutionary War figures, he became rather excited. Though he interrogated myself and my Mother thoroughly as to the quality and minute aesthetic detail of these little figurines, neither she nor I had paid much attention to them beyond the fact that they were there and we knew my brother would like them. So he had to wait all week to get to see them himself. A dozen for ten bucks; quite the deal! He has been using the figures since he got them, and is very pleased. He had found a set of ten figures for $25 in another historical merchandise magazine, but Sheldon Pewter obviously gave a much better deal.

All in all, we had a wonderful time. Listening to Celtic music, purchasing some great trinkets, and hanging out with the family, which is always fun. I'll conclude with this video I took of a band playing a really fun reel. I only took a few videos because Pippin and I spent the rest of the time dancing together in the hall. Celtic music simply must be danced to, there's no two ways about it.

If anyone of you who enjoys Celtic things lives in IL around Chicago, do consider going to next year's Celtic Fest. Admission is completely free, there are games for the kids, you can listen to great music, bagpipes, and learn how to play cricket. Now how many of you out there, honestly, have wondered how on Earth cricket is played? I've been watching British telly shows and movies all my life, and I still don't know exactly how it works. My brothers went down to the arena to play about a bit, and they say they've got some of the rules down, so I'm going to have them explain it to me as best they can. It's all baseball over here at my house.

Well, I'm off to bed now. Have to be up early tomorrow to be at church for choir on time. Everyone have a blessed weekend, you hear?

Dia duit,
~Penny

P.S.
At least some of you will be glad to hear that, since I've completed the script for Blades of Honor (did I forget to mention that....?), I will now have time to do a couple more segments of For the Greatest Good. Keep an eye out for them!