Nanowrimo excerpts
Nano 2010: Mnemosyne
The falcon's shrill hunting cry was the messenger of death descending upon the peaceful forest. After a brief, tense silence, it was followed by a heartbreaking high squeak, the last goodbye of whichever unfortunate prey had been elected.
Mnemosyne shivered, dearly hoping it wasn't anyone she knew, and immediately berating herself for the unkind thought. All life was valuable, her mother had told her often enough, each life has inherent value, independent of the value you adhere to it.
Still, she couldn't help but be a little pleased that her best friend was sitting right beside her, well out of harm's way. Artemis had ducked low at the Hunter's cry, out of instinctive fear, and Mnemosyne shook her head at the unnecessary display of caution.
“Arty, that must have been at least fifty trees away from here...” She sighed, but even to her own ears it sounded relieved rather than exasperated.
“I can't get used to it...” Artemis complained as she uncoiled from her crouched position, pushing back a few unruly blond curls and then lowly pressing a few leaves aside to peer outside. “Ever since he arrived, I feel like my whole world got suddenly turned upside down, changed into this unfamiliar dangerous new place...”
Mnemosyne herself wasn't too fond of their latest arrival either, but she took a more pragmatic view to it.
“I'm sure he'll be gone fairly soon. Our forest is not his native habitat, he's probably just passing through.”
Artemis agreed with a reluctant nod, dearly hoping that that would be true, but too frightened to actually believe it.
“Anyway.” Mnemosyne continued cheering up her friend. “He'll be satisfied for the day, now, there is no more to fear before the next sun. Let's get going again.”
She leapt up from the cover of leaves boldly, auburn hair whipping around her face, and with a few confident beats of her wings, found an agreeable wind current to sail on. With only a moment's hesitation, Artemis followed her friend, her own movements rather more jerky as she kept twisting her head around looking for the falcon.
But the skies were again their territory, as they had always been up until the falcon's arrival a moon ago. Several species of birds, too, had left the leafy shelter to bask in the dimming November sun, and the usual chorus of chirping and whistling resumed, as it death had not just claimed one of their own.
Life goes on, as Mnemosyne's mother said, and it usually not productive to dwell on the past.
Life, however, would not go on for a very long while for the tree Mnemosyne was currently heading for.
It had, once, been a majestic oak, possibly the largest tree in the forest, superseded in years only by the Home Tree itself. Even before it had become sick, ten suns ago, it had been a tree of gossip and tall tales, since it seemed impossible for a normal tree to grow this large or old.
But whatever force had made the tree grow and blossom against all odds, was now clearly losing its strength. Its leaves had all but fallen to the forest floor, far before the onset of true winter. The finer branches had almost all withered and many had been broken off, unable to withstand the Northern Winds.
It seemed to Mnemosyne, who had always been particularly fond of this one tree, that even the tall proud stem was bending, stooping in a ways, as it there was no more inner strength to keep erect that magnificent crown of branches.
She landed on a tree nearby, critically appraising the old oak and comparing it to her assessment of three suns ago. Artemis joined her and said, in a sad whisper. “She looks really ill... I didn't know it was this bad...”
“Yes.” Mnemosyne agreed, instinctively lowering her voice too, as if they were attending a revered one, or a ceremony for the dead ones. “It is almost beyond belief. My mother says she has never heard of an illness that could take a tree this quickly and completely, especially a tree as old and sturdy as this one...”
They both gazed at the ill tree for a long silent moment, then Mnemosyne sat up and made to jump away, when Artemis quickly put her hand on her friend's arm in a warding gesture.
“What are you going to do?” Artemis said, panic thinly veiled in her voice. “Don't go near, please, Mnemosyne... It may be cursed...”
Mnemosyne settled back on the branch, wings quivering with barely contained impatience. “Don't be daft, Arty. There is no such thing as a curse! The tree is ill, yes, but it will be due to the air, or water, or winds, or perhaps simply age, rather than a fantasy tale they use to keep the children too frightened to leave their home...”
Suddenly, Artemis grabbed her and put her hand in front of Mnemosyne's mouth, but before her friend could protest, she gave her a grave look and pointed downwards, to the forest ground several floors below.
Nano 2009: The Azutherian Gambit, continued (and therefore not eligeable to win)
It would have been pretty neat if it had been a dark and stormy night.
Or even if it had been an unusually quiet moonlit-night which vibrated with magic from ancient times...
But as it had turned out, it was a perfectly ordinary night, with perfectly ordinary weather and perfectly ordinary sounds of night animals going about their perfectly ordinary business.
He sighed.
So much for the suspense the bards always managed to weave into the beginning of their legends…
The only thing that was not ordinary about this night, was his companion standing a little ways away, and even then, the man looked awfully normal for a murderer.
He wore decent clothes, like any sensible traveler, unlike the dark torn clothes and bulky armour such men were supposed to wear. If he had a weapon, it was well-hidden under his tunic and not the giant axe or broadsword stories dictated he should be fiddling with proudly. His face was pleasant enough to look at, a well-trimmed beard and intelligent eyes…
Whatever had happened to the trademark perpetual grim and unkempt look?
And not even the slightest scar in sight…
He yawned widely, half-heartedly fighting the urge to turn on his heels and hurry back to his cosy house.
Here he was, standing a mere 10 feet away from what could very well be the most dangerous man in the kingdom, waiting for a rendez-vous that would in all likelihood change the course of history forever… being bored out of his mind…
Nano 2008: Changeling (Book 1 of The Azutherian Gambit)
There were things in the Darkness that he knew would kill him. Right now they were no more than vague shadows at the edge of his consciousness, but he could feel them approaching, the chill brought on by their unearthly breath wrapping itself around his heart. He shivered, but the cold was inside of him and couldn’t be vanquished by warming up his body. He could feel the chill spreading, sending out tendrils from his heart to every part of his body, wrapping it in a cocoon of ice, paralysing his muscles and slowing his thoughts, damping even his instincts to struggle against it, to survive… But he wouldn’t give in easily. He would keep on fighting to his last breath, would combat the icy chill with the fire of his stubborn will.
Because somewhere, in the distance, beyond the Darkness, there was something. Something good, something light and warm and friendly. If he could only reach it before the Darkness icy breath stopped his slow progress toward it altogether…
Night after night, he had been reaching, struggling to advance in the cold Darkness, trying to hide from things he couldn’t see or understand. Slowly, weariness had been setting in, but the thought of failure propelled him forth even more strongly.
But he knew he would reach the end of his endurance and resistance soon. The thought frightened him, but not as much any more as the first time it had popped up in his mind, so many nights ago.
The warmth and light seemed so far away, too far for his battered body to reach, to far for his fragile mind to endure.
Soon, he would lose his nightly battle.
Soon the Darkness would be no longer content to be all around him, but it would invade him too.
He cried out, equally in dismay and defiance, no longer caring if it gave away his position to his pursuers. After all, they were creatures of the Dark, and could probably track him as well as he could a bird in an empty daylight sky.
He hadn’t expected any sound. There was never any sound except for a light wheezing of an invisible wind, like air flowing in and out of the lungs of a giant dragon in whose belly he was currently locked up in.
He hadn’t expected an answer to his cry, but come it did.
His first thought was that is was merely an echo, perhaps even just in his own mind. But then the cry came again, much too late to be another reverberating echo and subtly different from the one he had issued. Likewise, there was sadness and despair in it, like he himself was very familiar with, but there was something else, something strange but hauntingly beautiful that he couldn’t quite grasp. It drew him to the cry, and he found himself moving through the darkness easier than in a long, long while.
And suddenly, impossibly, a shadow materialised in front of him. Not a shadow by the theoretical definition of a dark object amidst light, but the exact opposite: a form slightly less dark than the surrounding night.
And he knew the shadow belonged to the land of light and warmth beyond the Dark, and longed to return there as did he.
He was no longer alone in his nightmare. A feeling of determination swept through him, and banished his thoughts of unavoidable doom.
He would fight, if not for himself, than for this other, and if his own strength would wane, than the other could lend him his.
A connection snapped into place, and with it, came a premonition. Dark shapes enclosing them, not only in the dream world, but also in the real world, where night was temporarily yielding to a new day.
And as the first ray of morning light fell on his face, the icy chilling fingers holding him locked up in the dream withered and reluctantly pulled back.
He struggled to shake off the last vestiges of the dream.
He knew there were things in the Darkness that would kill him, but they would have to find him first…
Nano 2007: Aergideon
“I used to be a lot like you, you know?”
Carson looked up, surprised, but didn’t dare to interrupt.
Muireach continued.
“Not a shepherd, no, but I used to be a farmer, a long, long time ago. When I was still too young to work on the lands, my father got me 5 goats to watch over. My own little herd… I was so proud to take them out to the meadow, to show the entire village my father had entrusted me with this important responsibility.”
Muireach stared at the horizon, seeing past the spectacular colours of the waning sun, into the past.
His tone was flat, feigning disinterest as he continued. “They were killed, all 5 of them. Not for their meat, not for their skin, but simply because they had been my father’s. Not just killed either, but beaten around, stabbed, dragged behind a horse and then slowly skinned alive….
They were killed in exactly the same way their master was killed…”
Silence weighted heavily upon the land. No bird song pierced it and not one sheep gave a single peep. Carson’s wide open eyes conveyed his horror at the realisation, his sympathy for the stranger who was willingly sharing this nightmare with him. But like nature all around him, he kept respectfully quiet, waiting but not really wanting to hear the rest of the story.
A shiver ran over Carson’s back as Muireach broke the silence.
“I was 6. I don’t know if they took pity on me because I was young, or because they simply forgot the small frightened boy huddling in the corner. Or maybe they thought that I’d die anyway in the fire that burned down our farm…”
Carson shivered again, feeling a chill far too cold to be attributed to the gentle autum’s evening air. Muireach didn’t seem to be aware of his silent listener anymore, caught up in the past behind the deep red of the evening sky.
“I don’t know how I made it out of the burning farm alive. My memories are vague, seemed surreal even back then. I don’t know if she was real, but I seem to recall a girl coming for me amidst the flames…” He shook his head slightly. “But I’m not sure. In fact, I’m not sure how I survived the following days. The next thing I clearly recall, is waking up at my aunt’s house, about a week after all I cared for, my whole life went up in flames.”
“First, I didn’t want to live anymore. After all, what did I have left that was worth living for? I didn’t eat or sleep, just sat on the porch of my aunt’s house staring at the sky, asking ‘why’. Why me? Why my father and mother? Why the goats? What had they ever done to deserve any of this? Who had the right to decide about life and death in the blink of an eye? Who would dare to take up that right?
And I found I did have a reason to stay alive. If for nothing else, then to spite whoever had decided I had had to die that fated day. To spit back in their face. And maybe take a punch or two at it too, while I was at it. And preferably make sure they would never again commit a similar atrocity to another 6-year old innocent boy whose biggest dream in life was to have the biggest ever herd of goats…”
“So, I became a farmer at my aunt’s farm by day, but by night I sought out the shadows. Sought for answers. And one day, opportunity presented itself in a shabby pub, which had been renamed after my old village. I was inaugurated in a small secret society. Most of its members had witnessed or sympathized with similar stories as mine, and we were united in our goal to avenge our death by bringing justice to their murderers…”
For the first time since he had started telling his story, Muireach looked directly at Carson.
His grey eyes now seemed almost black in the darkening evening, but glittered intensely as the red fire of the dying sun reflected in them.
The question as to whether Muireach had brought justice to the killers of his parents was answered in their depths.
For the first time since he had met this stranger, Carson was truly frightened.
For he could see death in those cold eyes.