WRITING AWAY

The main benefit to being off my feet at the moment (long and boring story) is that I have got more chapters done on Thorde and I have been reading the excellent book 'Becoming a Writer' by Dorothea Brande which was kindly lent to me by my fellow Writers Group member, Dawn.  It is such an insightful book and I definitely recognise that I am a combination of two of her 'writing types' and am, as I had suspected, my own worst enemy when it comes to my writing.  A highly recommend this book if you want to kick-start yourself writing again.

THE BOX

She touched the small round box that her aunt had given her and smiled.  The inlay was well-worn yet ornate and it was easy to see that in its day it would have been quite a handsome piece.  Expensive too no doubt, but its value meant so much more to her than currency.  It was a symbol of how it had once been.  As she stroked the worn edges, the memories assailed her and she was transported back to a time when her family was together and happy.  They had not been a large family but closer than it would have appeared to the casual observer.  The advantage to being the youngest was she was able to overhear things that she should not have done, but it had been useful when the change came.

The box had been passed down through the generations and it had been a poignant time for her when at last she had been given it at the train station.  How her aunt had managed to keep it for so long amazed her and she was not sure she could be so circumspect.

She looked around and carefully replaced the treasure to its secret hideaway.  No-one in the cramped carriage had even looked her way, but she felt a small prickle of fear as she scanned their faces.  They were all the same.  All quiet and resigned, but she had her one small beacon of hope burning in her pocket.  She could keep going as long as she still had the box.  She had to; she was the only one left.

The train shuddered to a halt and everyone slowly made their way to the exits without a word.  It was like seeing sheep in the fields at herding time and she guessed that this was very similar.  As she made to alight from the carriage she saw the gates and they were far more imposing than the men that stood in front of them.  The fear settled in the pit of her stomach as she paused slightly in her steady pace towards the entrance, but the crowd slowly eased her back to movement once more.  As she passed through the gates her head remained downcast, avoiding all eye contact; and the box entered with her but who knew whether it would exit in the same way.

PARIS WEEKEND

I had a fabulous weekend trip to Paris with my oldest friend Shanti.  We stayed at a little hotel just around the corner from Notre Dame and an easy walk away from The Louvre, which we visited on the Friday and had brunch at Cafe Marly which looks onto the square.  We had a delicious steak dinner that night followed by creme caramel, where we met a lovely couple from London.  On the Saturday we visited The Sacre Couer and had another delicious lunch a little walk away from the artists quarter.  That night I ate some delicious veal and a warm chocolate melt-in-the-middle pudding and on the Sunday we visited the Eiffel Tower and another lovely cafe near the Pompidou Centre for lunch, before heading off to Gard du Nord and ultimately Charles De Gaulle Airport.  We fit quite a lot in for such a short trip.  I thought I would share some of my pictures with you all:

CLECKHEATON WRITERS GROUP/LOCAL WRITING EVENTS

Cleckheaton Writers Group met in the Library last night and we were pleased to welcome our newest member Daniel Bridgman.  Daniel shared some of his writing with us (a short prose piece and some poetry) and we shared some of ours with him (Dawn shared the first chapter of The Sun Charm and I shared the first third of the first chapter of Quantum Worlds) which illicited much debate and feedback.  I am looking forward to hearing more of Daniel's work at the next meeting on Monday 19 March 6-8pm.

I have learned today of two local writing events taking place this weekend and thought I would share this information with my followers:

MEET NOVELISTS JENN ASHWORTH (Cold Light author) and EMMA JANE UNSWORTH (Hungry the Stars and Everything author)
FRIDAY 16 MARCH 2012 7.30PM HEBDEN BRIDGE LIBRARY Tel: 01422 288040

IMMACULATE CONCEPTIONS - A PERFORMANCE OF POETRY AND VERSE WITH CHAR MARCH AND CLARE SHAW
SATURDAY 17 MARCH 2012 2PM TODMORDEN LIBRARY Tel: 01706 815600

Both events are being organised by Anna Turner who can be emailed at: anna.turner@calderdale.gov.uk

For more information on The Calderdale Ted Hughes Writing Competition see:
http://www.calderdale.gov.uk/leisure/libraries/readers/writing-competition/index.html

THORDE: The keeper of the trysk Chapter Three

As I am definitely going to Paris with my friend this weekend, I will probably not be posting anything on my blog until I get back (get back Sunday night, but probably won't post until Monday), I thought I would post chapter three today.  It is short, but hopefully sweet....

CHAPTER THREE

Can anyone else hear that screaming?

It is harder than you might imagine, to try and hold a conversation whilst flying under a wyvern, if the sound of its wings doesn’t muffle the words, the air whistling past does.  We had tried for a while, but as soon as it became obvious that all we were going to get were sore throats, we stopped trying to bellow to each other over the noise.

Looking down wasn’t an option either because the sky was still dark and we were going so fast, I think it would have all been just a blur any way if I could have seen anything.  Then again, maybe it was best not to know where we were, because that way I couldn’t panic any more than I already was.

Yes, back at the castle we were destined to come under attack at dawn, but being held in the clutches of a wyvern flying at top speed was not such a picnic either.  I could not get the image of it dropping me out of my mind and although I was clutching on for dear life to my shield and sword, I was convinced that at any moment I was going to lose them or my helmet.  The way things were going, I was definitely going to need them some time soon.

It was hard not to think about how the wyvern had understood me.  Was I really a Dragon Master?  I had never even seen a wyvern egg, let alone a real fire-breathing adult and I was sure that I would have noticed if a Mystic had given me powers.  There were few Mystics now, the Arberians had seen to that, but I know there are some out there somewhere, but surely if I had come across one and they had gifted me powers, they would have mentioned it?  I would also like to think that the truth-seekers might have mentioned that I was going to be snatched into the claws of a wyvern and flown off into the night.  I laughed out loud; clearly I wasn’t important enough to warrant a conversation, let alone a vision.

My stomach lurched as the wyvern suddenly plummeted downwards in what seemed to me like a death fall.  I didn’t know how far away the ground was, but I prayed silently that it was not jagged rocks or freezing sea beneath us.  Then I suddenly realised that water was probably the best option as this thing was going to land and I am no expert, but I assume they land on their legs.  Because it was dark I had no chance to judge distances enough to jump off at the last minute even if I could untangle myself from these sharp claws.

Before I had chance to come up with a good plan, or for Saran to try and shout any advice, we were unceremoniously dropped onto the waiting padding of a large hay bale. 

I readjusted my helmet and picked up the shield and sword that I had dropped in the slight fall and searched for Saran in the darkness.  He was further along the hay bale but intact.  This was strange, because I could definitely hear screaming.

SECOND CHAPTER OF THORDE

Have just finished my second chapter of Thorde: The keeper of the trysk (only three more to go before the deadline of 16 April) and thought I would share it with my followers:

CHAPTER TWO

The call of the wyvern

I quickly adopted the stance of my new friend because so far he knew better what to do than I, and peered out from under my shield and sword.  The wyvern was swooping down with fire streaming upon the shield of my companion.  I could not tell if he was okay, so I yelled to him,

“You alright under there?” and I hoped that an answer would be forthcoming.  I was under no illusions; I would need him if I wanted to get out of this.

“Yeah, but now I know what a pig must feel like on a spit; it’s so hot under here.”

I was amazed that he was still alive and not burned to a crisp, but at least it proved that cowering under these things was the way to go.

“Try and distract it or something and then I can attack it whilst it chases you.”

“Oh yeah like that was a good idea?” I mumbled under my breath, I mean, I was sorry that it was aiming at him, but then again, I was glad it wasn’t raining fire down on me.  Not to mention the teeth glistening behind the waterfall of fire.  However, Saran had helped me, so to show willing I came out from under the cover of my shield and held up my sword in my best knight stance.

“You leave my friend alone,” I yelled and tried to ignore the fact that my sword was shaking.  To my surprise and obviously Saran’s, the wyvern suddenly closed its mouth and I distinctly heard him drop his weapons. Before I had any time to register this fully, the thing landed next to me and to my shame, I took one look at it and began to run like I have never run before. 

I didn’t make it very far of course, it was a lot faster than me and it had wings, but as I cowered before it waiting to die (and yes, I had my eyes closed), I hoped that Saran would be able to do something, anything, to help me.  I could feel its hot breath on my face and I knew that any minute now I would be burned to a crisp - or it could just rip me to shreds with those nasty-looking claws, or eat me, its choice I guess.  As the buzzing in my ears (fear I suppose) accelerated, I heard another noise,

“Do that again,” I heard distinctly.

“Do what?” I answered, sure that this was not what I wanted to be the last thing I heard before I died.

“Tell it to stop.”

Had he lost his mind?  I opened my eyes to tell him just that, when I stupidly looked up.  The wyvern was looking down at me with its huge jaws open at me with its head off to one side.  But it didn’t look like it wanted to eat me; it looked like it was waiting for me to say something.  Well, obviously I had lost my mind too, because before I could stop myself I found myself saying.

“Yes stop that, we haven’t done anything to you.”

The magnificent creature bowed its head and leaned forward, looking for all the world like it was acknowledging my request, before raising its eye level to mine once more.  Now I was certain that I had gone mad.  What was the last thing I could remember as being true?  When the knights had forced the helmet, shield and sword upon me, I think.  Well, that explained it.  I had got so scared that I had lost my sanity, or I had fallen asleep and was having some crazy fear-induced dream that I would wake up from soon.  I closed my eyes and opened them again, but the wyvern and Saran were still there.

“You didn’t say you were Dragon Master,” Saran exclaimed and his face told me that this time (and probably the only time, so I ought to make the most of it) he was the one in awe of me.

“I didn’t know I was,” I admitted reluctantly (well, I knew it wouldn’t last).

“We definitely stand a better chance with a wyvern and a Dragon Master, even an inexperienced Dragon Master, on our side,” he crowed as he ran to my side, “surely the great army of Arberia cannot deal with that so easily.”

“If the truth-seekers are to be believed, we are going to need more than one wyvern to stop them,” I sighed, “what we need is a plan.”

Suddenly the wyvern let out a mighty screech that hurt our ears and rattled the very teeth in our heads.  Saran and I tried to cover them to block the noise in order to lessen the damage, but in our distraction we did not notice it move.  In a flash, we had been grabbed by each of the vast talons and we were being lifted away from the castle. 

“What did you do that for?” Saran yelled at me over the sound of the wind and the wings beating.

“I didn’t do anything, it did,” I shouted back.  I was holding on tightly to my shield and sword but I wasn’t sure whether the helmet would stay on my head.  Saran looked quite relaxed considering the circumstances and he glanced down,

“It looks so small from up here,” he announced as he looked at the shape of the castle disappear into the night, “I never thought I would see it from this angle.”  He was grinning, he was actually grinning.

“Yeah, who thought we’d ever fly,” I mumbled sarcastically, not really caring whether he heard me or not.

“We are flying!” he bellowed and I suppose if I wasn’t quite so frightened of the beast actually dropping me, I might have found it fairly exciting too. 

I mean I wasn’t dead, I wouldn’t have to fight now and it appeared that I was not just a stable-hand after all.  I was a Dragon Master.

BUSY WEEKEND

Had a very busy weekend.  We visited the grandparents and then went for a delicious meal at our friends Jeff and Lisa's on Saturday.  Lisa made home-made carrot and coriander soup with homebaked bread, beef stroganoff pasta and brandy-snap basket with vanilla ice-cream, cherries in a brandy sauce, melon balls and bourneville chocolate scrapings - yum.  On Sunday we saw the grandparents again and went to watch the Manchester United match at our friends Kevin and Ajs house.  Was excited to learn that my friends Claire and Martijn have moved to their very first home (i.e. not rented) and that a short trip to Paris with my friend Shanti is in the offing (there will be no postings over this weekend if it comes off).

All that yummy food put me in mind of a poem I wrote as part of the Morley Writers Festival last year (inspired by a slice of citrus fruit of all things), so for my new followers I thought I would post it again:

Under your skin

The tang of bittersweet memories lie on her tongue
like a secret too painful to share.
The points of the ends rise towards the sky
praying to a Deity that never hears.
Green means new life or mistakes of old
and both mirror distances past.
If you touch it can bleed.
Seep through your fingers and staining,
leaving evocative rivers of absolution
washing away impotent guilt.
Like you it will wither in sunlight,
turn brown in disparate places.
Some that will show and others hidden,
unless you want them to be seen.
It balances precariously on the surface,
not quite flat but curved in on itself.
Shadows leaching away from its centre
blurring at the edges.
You could immerse it and change
its purpose in this life,
in turns sweet or sour or both.
But that would take a decision
and setting it free
from the prison under your skin.

THORDE: The keeper of the trysk

I am really enjoying writing my new YA fantasy novel for the competition that has an April deadline (5 chapters and a synopsis to be sent) and am now well into chapter two, so I thought I would post the first full chapter on my blog.  Chapter two to follow shortly (I hope you like it):

THORDE: THE KEEPER OF THE TRYSK

CHAPTER ONE

Be careful what you wish for

They were coming at dawn.  The elders had consulted with the truth-seekers and they had foretold of a mighty battle.  The enemy would come on their mormoths and their fearless warriors would ride upon the scaranx.  I had heard tell of these creatures many times around the fire.  Tales of their size, ferocious teeth and claws bigger even than wyverns, which could snap a man in two or cause the blood to leave your body quicker than a river when it bursts its banks.  It was said that they had a ring of fiery fur around their necks and the devastation that their long tails could bring with its spiky ball at the end was legendary.  I had heard of many men that had died that way.  As if that was not enough to chill my blood, the truth-seekers also prophesised that the sky would flood with the beating wings of the pterodyls carrying men who could swoop down upon all with swift and terrifying accuracy.  I was eternally grateful that I had not been born a truth-seeker (to have to live with visions and futures that you could not alter was a heavy burden) but not being one held no comfort either.

I know what you are thinking?  How do I know so many things that only Kings and trusted servants would know?  Am I born of noble blood or work high up in the castle echelons?  Hardly!  Or do I hang around like a thief in the night, watching and waiting to hear things I should not be privy to?  Well no, that’s not it either; I am just Thorde, the keeper of the animals.  Now I’ll bet you are thinking ‘that’s nothing’, but I assure you I use my position to its full advantage.  The Knights all use my services and I even have full access to the King’s noble steed, the highest honour someone like me could have.  That’s how I find out all the things that I do and sometimes, like now, I really wish that I didn’t. 

They have told the people, obviously they have, because they have to be ready for battle, but they have not told them who and what are coming, only that they are.  The King has told them that they come and that all must fight and when I say all, I do mean all.  They thrust a helmet upon my head and gave me a sword and a shield.  Me, who has never held a weapon in my life and the worst thing is, I know what’s coming and I know we don’t stand a chance.  Mormoths are bad enough, I’ve seen them, they stand three times taller than our strongest stallions, but pterodyls and scaranx, well, the best weapons a man can have in his armoury other than a wyvern.  I can only hope that their truth-seekers have not mastered the language of the beasts, only the truly gifted can do that.  But what if they have?  What if they have a firetalker?  We can use the boiling oil, the flaming arrows, all our best defences from behind the castle walls, but to have the power of fire in flight, that is a weapon indeed.

For now the dark covers our world like a comforting blanket, but it will not be long before the tendrils of light reach out across the sky.  I glance down at my shield and sword for what seems like the hundredth time and I feel the helmet slide forward on my head.  It doesn’t really fit properly, but then it wasn’t made for me.  I don’t want to think about who it was made for or why I could now be the new owner because that had lots of possibilities and none of them could be good.  It did not do to dwell on these things.  What I need is a distraction for I now know for sure that I am not going to get any rest this night.  Nothing calms me like the company of horses.  Most animals hold an attraction for me, but horses were the most calming and I knew, the most understanding.  For they, unlike me, had seen many battles.  I know it isn’t a distraction exactly, but surely it was better to be forearmed and forewarned in this battle, because hiding or fleeing is not an option.  There are eyes everywhere and the castle is locked down like the fortress we now needed it to be.

I make my way carefully to the stables.  I pass many sleeping comrades and I envy them their rest.  But I was by no means the only one awake at this ungodly hour.  Many were sat staring into space, the fear etched plainly on their faces.  From what I could see in this section of the castle, we were a very rag-tag bunch indeed, hardly a match for the Arberians.

I could hear the snorts and gentle neighs of the horses before I could see them and I knew that they felt my need and were welcoming my presence.  I held my breath as I entered the stables, ready to leave at a moment’s notice if it turned out that I was not the only person here.  I did not want anyone witnessing what I was about to do.  I had long ago learned the language of the horses.  It was a fascinating and complex method, but once you broke down the basics, you could indeed converse with them.  What seems like random neck, head, ears or even mouth movements to the average person, is in fact a form of communication that could yield more than just a friendship with one of God’s most beautiful creatures.  We understand each other completely and some of them I count as my closest friends.  You don’t come into contact with many people in my job, well, people that would want to talk to someone like me anyway, but in my experience horses can be a lot nicer than the majority of people, so I didn’t really feel like I was missing out.  In many ways I was far luckier than most.  I had a job, which meant I had enough money to eat well most days and I had a roof over my head, but this meant that I wasn’t as invisible as most, so I was instantly seen as a potential fighter when news of the battle necessitated new recruits.  That, and the fact that I had no parents to stand up for me, had sealed my fate, as it had many others.

Peros was the first to greet me.  He was the tallest and strongest of the horses and as such, you won’t be surprised to learn that he is the King’s steed.  He is as black as the darkest night and his mane is as long and luxurious as any fine maiden’s hair.  His proud neck touches mine and I close my hands at my sides as I acknowledge his greeting.  At this, my nerves begin to abate and I feel calmer than I have since I learned the terrible news.

Silently we converse and I learn more of the mormoths, the scaranx, the pterodyls and even the Arberians, well, Peros’ opinion of them anyway.  Unsurprisingly, it was not good.  When he exhales with his ears pressed right back into his head and I look deep into his eyes, I swear I can almost see the battle where he lost his brother even though I know he was never there.  Arros had been a brave stallion.  He had stood a couple of hands smaller than Peros, but had matched his brother in many ways.  He had told Peros of the scaranx, for he too had never met one in battle.  Arros had learned through trial and error the techniques needed to escape with your life when faced with such a foe.  Unfortunately, there had been nothing Arros could do against the power of the wyvern and he had not stood a chance.  I knew the fear of Peros matched my own.  Although the truth-seekers had not spoken of the wyverns, this weapon could not be ruled out.  There were those among many tribes that harnessed this gift.

Over what seemed like an age, Peros and his friends taught me all they knew.  I had received lessons from them before, but never had it been so vital.  I thanked them for their kindness and Peros advised me to seek out a human who might be kind enough to show me the basics in the way of battle.  They could not help with swords and shields and although I thought I knew what to do with the shield (you hold it in front of you and use it to stop someone from killing you right?) I had absolutely no idea how to wield a sword.  I had seen the Knights jousting, which I knew looked terrifying (and that was not even a real fight) but I had never actually held one until now.  I knew I did not have much time.  The truth-seekers had spoken of dawn and it may take time to find someone suitable. 

I had already spent much of the night conversing with my friends and their council would be invaluable, but I knew this was just as important.  In my haste to leave the stables without being seen, I tripped over my own sword and ended up sat in a pile of something foul-smelling.

“Well, that’s one way to try and get the enemy to not want to come anywhere near you,” I heard from the shadows before a skinny boy showed himself in the meagre light from the small torch he was holding.

Rising in as dignified a manner as I could manage, considering the circumstances, I faced him with a pithy reply hovering on my lips, when I saw him swing his sword in a perfect arc and aim it directly at my chest.  I took a step back in alarm.

“No, I think you’ll find it’s not working,” he said before bursting into laughter, even though he was trying to hide it behind his free hand.

To my immense relief, he retracted his sword, placed it against the stable wall and held out his hand.  Hesitantly I took it.

“Sorry about that, I just couldn’t resist.  Anybody would think you had never held a sword before.”  The twinkle in his eye broke my composure; after all, I am sure I did look pretty stupid.

“That’s because I haven’t.  Nor a shield, or wear a helmet,” I laughed and shook his hand warmly.  Let’s face it, I could probably do with his help; he, at least, looked like he knew what he was doing.

“Ah, that explains it then.  Well, let’s see what we can do about that.”

He came closer and pushed my helmet back and tilted it slightly.  I could see much better now and although it still didn’t fit, it no longer felt like it was going to fall off my head at any moment.

He handed me my shield and sword and then wielded his own in a very convincing manner.  I copied him as best I could and then I yelped as his sword connected with mine and I felt the power of it reverberate up my arm.

“Ow,” I yelled thinking that that would make him stop, but he only came at me harder.  I danced around like a jester trying to field the blows with both my shield and sword and every time his weapons collided with mine, I felt it down to my very bones.  My arms were getting more and more tired and I swear the sword and shield seemed to get heavier.  I was out of breath and sore and more frightened than before because it seemed I was definitely not cut out for this.

“Saran,” he shouted over the sound of our swords colliding.

“What?” I yelled back dodging a particularly low blow.  If I didn’t know any better I would think he was trying to distract me.

“Saran’s the name,” he qualified as he easily dodged my feeble attempt at getting a blow in whilst he was answering the question.

“Oh, Thorde,” I answered, “nice to meet you I think.”

To my relief, all of a sudden my new friend stepped back and lowered his weapons.  He had a large smile across his face and I had to mentally convince myself that he wasn’t laughing at me.

“Not bad,” he murmured and I felt myself blush at his kindness; I knew I was rubbish, but it was kind of him to say that.

“Tried my best but it’s obvious I am not going to last very long in this battle,” I admitted and I put my shield and sword down so that I could rub my arms where they were aching like they were on fire.

“You’ll do alright,” he said, “you fielded all my blows well to say you’ve never done this before.  You need to build up your stamina because you are out of breath already and I can see that your muscles need working more-“

“Well that’s not going to happen is it?  They’ll be here at dawn.”

“We better keep at it then,” he smiled as he pointed his sword at mine, “pick them up.”

I reluctantly did as I was bid and we began again.  He was good and I was awful and the concentration on his face seemed to intensify the more blows that I fielded.  I was beginning to worry that he actually wanted to land one.  My arms were stretched with the weight of the shield and sword and my lungs felt like they were bursting out of my chest and for a moment I thought that I might be better off if a wyvern came and got me before the warriors arrived; at least that way it would be quick and therefore more painless.  As I thought this, my opponent swung his sword and it connected with my helmet before I had chance to stop it.  My head felt weird and I could hear a strange swooshing sound in my ears.  To my amazement, my new friend stepped back and swung away from me his shield and sword raised in protection.  That was when I saw it, even through my hazy vision, it was unmistakable.  A wyvern, flying towards us with its mouth wide; the swooshing sound was its wings and he seriously looked like he was going to let loose with the flames.  I know they say be careful what you wish for, but this was ridiculous.