On the weekends, I'm working on something new. I think it's going to be an urban fantasy. Think, you say? Don't you know? Heh. It started out to be a straight fantasy, but it morphed into this. The dialogue was too modern, for starters...and Mia just feels right in the here and now.
As always, first draft, please don't quote or repost.
___________________________________________________________
The man had been beaten to a bloody pulp and left to die in the middle of the road.
Mia Jacob switched off her motorcycle. The rumble of the engine faded to nothing. After a few seconds, the sound of summer cicadas took up the refrain, almost as noisy as the machine.
The trees lining this part of the road brought early darkness, and she couldn't make out his features. Human? Or some clever facsimile meant to make her let down her guard?
Only one way to find out.
She carefully let down her shield, testing for any sign of magic. Dark shadows with glowing red eyes slid into her field of vision. Revulsion biled her throat.
Ilsatch. He was human, then.
Mia engaged the kickstand and dismounted. She grabbed a flashlight from her saddlebag and waded through the shadows to the man's side, fighting her revulsion, knowing the Ilsatch would feed off that emotion just as readily as murder lust. The sooner they were gone, the better.
The flashlight illuminated more than she wanted to see. Someone had beaten the man, then carved on him with a very big knife. She leaned over and placed careful fingers on his neck, looking for the pulse she knew she wouldn't find.
"Useless vermin," Colin said in a dispassionate voice.
Mia gave a grunt and jerked, adrenaline coursing unpleasantly through her body. "Damn it, Colin!"
"Sorry, love. Didn't mean to scare you."
She looked around to see the wizard's shade hovering nearby, faintly glowing in the darkness. He looked as he had looked to her the moment of his death, five years before, and as he looked every time he appeared to her---eyes dark holes in a white face, black hair pulled back in a casual ponytail, hole in his chest big enough to put a fist through.
Attracted by the strength of her sudden emotion, an Ilsatch floated closer. Mia tamped a lid on her feelings.
"Is he dead, then?" Colin asked.
"You know, coming from a dead man, that question's pretty ironic," Mia said.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Wintersland Take Two
I'm reaching the point in this story where I had to stop before. In a few days, I'll gallop past this point and head for the finish line. Looking forward to it.
Katie and Treyga are caught out in a snow storm. First draft, please don't quote or repost. Thanks!
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Snow and wind became something that conspired to hold her back no matter how hard she struggled to move forward. Memory of the abandoned town she and Treyga had visited rose in her mind's eye. She could feel the malice in the wind that blew in their faces, nearly drowning her in snow.
The wind whistled and moaned like a live thing. The cold pierced and bit, savage and searing. It became conceivable that she and Treyga and the dogs would die out here, lost, within shouting distance of the Winterlord's Hall.
"Oh, God, somebody please help me," Katie whimpered.
And, in the midst of the snow and the wind, someone grabbed hold of her upper arm and pulled. Katie could see nothing except the snow coating her eyelashes. Katie followed, pulling in turn at the dogs. The tug at her arm persisted for several long moments, until she stumbled onto a set of steps that led upwards into white nothingness.
With a cry of relief that was immediately snatched from her lips, Katie wiped the snow from her face and eyes. When she could see again, she saw a young boy, unmoved by the storm. His eyes were the pale blue of frozen water. As she watched, two tears coursed down his cheeks. The boy stretched out a hand and touched Katie's parka just above her heart. A fragrant odor wafted to her nostrils. Startled, Katie realized his hand touched the sprig of holly in her inner pocket. Without words, Katie somehow knew that she had been given something that would save the life of the little girl that lay near death in the Hall behind her. The boy nodded and faded away.
Katie turned to see Treyga and the dogs nearby. Treyga said something, but the wind snatched her words.
"Steps!" Katie screamed at Treyga.
Treyga nodded her head. She reached down and unharnessed the dogs, moving slowly and stiffly. The dogs stood, heads down, tails tucked, waiting on her signal. She waved them upward, and they sprang up the steps, quickly out of sight.
Moving against a wind that tried to push them off the steps, Katie and Treyga struggled up to the top of the steps, where the dogs waited, and searched for the doors with fumbling, frozen fingers. Eons later, Treyga found a latch and the doors fell inward, dumping them on the floor. The dogs crowded in around them, shaking snow from their fur in a fine spray.
People surrounded them at once. A couple of them forced the doors shut against the wind, and the howl immediately reduced to a low rumble.
"Did we make it?" Treyga asked, confused and exhausted-sounding.
"We made it," Katie said in a hoarse voice.
Katie and Treyga are caught out in a snow storm. First draft, please don't quote or repost. Thanks!
----------------------------------------------------------------
Snow and wind became something that conspired to hold her back no matter how hard she struggled to move forward. Memory of the abandoned town she and Treyga had visited rose in her mind's eye. She could feel the malice in the wind that blew in their faces, nearly drowning her in snow.
The wind whistled and moaned like a live thing. The cold pierced and bit, savage and searing. It became conceivable that she and Treyga and the dogs would die out here, lost, within shouting distance of the Winterlord's Hall.
"Oh, God, somebody please help me," Katie whimpered.
And, in the midst of the snow and the wind, someone grabbed hold of her upper arm and pulled. Katie could see nothing except the snow coating her eyelashes. Katie followed, pulling in turn at the dogs. The tug at her arm persisted for several long moments, until she stumbled onto a set of steps that led upwards into white nothingness.
With a cry of relief that was immediately snatched from her lips, Katie wiped the snow from her face and eyes. When she could see again, she saw a young boy, unmoved by the storm. His eyes were the pale blue of frozen water. As she watched, two tears coursed down his cheeks. The boy stretched out a hand and touched Katie's parka just above her heart. A fragrant odor wafted to her nostrils. Startled, Katie realized his hand touched the sprig of holly in her inner pocket. Without words, Katie somehow knew that she had been given something that would save the life of the little girl that lay near death in the Hall behind her. The boy nodded and faded away.
Katie turned to see Treyga and the dogs nearby. Treyga said something, but the wind snatched her words.
"Steps!" Katie screamed at Treyga.
Treyga nodded her head. She reached down and unharnessed the dogs, moving slowly and stiffly. The dogs stood, heads down, tails tucked, waiting on her signal. She waved them upward, and they sprang up the steps, quickly out of sight.
Moving against a wind that tried to push them off the steps, Katie and Treyga struggled up to the top of the steps, where the dogs waited, and searched for the doors with fumbling, frozen fingers. Eons later, Treyga found a latch and the doors fell inward, dumping them on the floor. The dogs crowded in around them, shaking snow from their fur in a fine spray.
People surrounded them at once. A couple of them forced the doors shut against the wind, and the howl immediately reduced to a low rumble.
"Did we make it?" Treyga asked, confused and exhausted-sounding.
"We made it," Katie said in a hoarse voice.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Wintersland Snippet
A snippet from my current work in progress. First draft, please don't quote or repost. Thanks!
_________________________________________
Katie stood, her feet cold in the snow, astonished at the sight. At least thirty to forty people stood around the tree, dressed in warm fur coverings, leggings, and knee-high boots, and with colorful scarves covered with intricate designs. Most of the people were older--older even than Katie's own parents.
Crunching snow to her left drew her gaze. A girl who looked about seventeen, red hair framing her face, freckles across her nose, approached her. The girl’s expression was open and friendly.
“Hello!” the girl said. “I’ve not seen you here before. Have you come to make your wish?”
“Wish?” Katie repeated.
“Yes. This is the Wishing Tree. Did you bring your decoration?”
“I’m sorry, I --,” Katie began, when her hand closed around Mel's decoration in her pocket. She pulled it out and stared at it.
“Oh!” the girl said. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. Will you hang it from the tree and make your wish? I have yet to hang mine..”
Since the girl had an expectant look on her face, Katie followed. She looked at the decoration in the girl’s hand--a doll--and marveled over the handiwork. The doll wore cloth that seemed to be made of some pliant leather and decorated with the same kind of intricate designs she saw on the girl’s scarf. The doll’s face, that of a young man, was hand-painted and very detailed. Mel’s decoration seemed very crude and primitive by contrast.
The girl hung the doll from a branch, saying, “I wish ---” The girl hesitated. “You go first, if you don’t mind.”
I only want one thing, Katie thought. I want my sister back.
She hung Mel’s ornament on the tree.
An expectant hush seemed to fall over everything. Katie felt the weight of it pressing down on her. The singers fell silent, and the tin whistle trailed away. She opened her mouth, and what came out was altered from what she had meant to say.
“I wish to see my sister Mel again.”
The wind sprang from nowhere, gale-force, flinging snow in faces and tangling Katie’s hair. She heard people cry out. The wind circled the Wishing Tree, which remained untouched.
Snow whirled, coalesced into a visible shape. As Katie watched, Mel looked back at her, an agonized expression on her face.
Katie reached out.
“Don’t!” someone said.
Katie hesitated. The girl grabbed her arm.
“She is a Yule Ghost! Touch her, and you will share her fate!”
“How can I help her?” Katie asked in a trembling voice. Her sister’s visibly tortured features shredded her insides.
“I—I don’t know,” the girl admitted.
The wind slowed, subsided to a sigh. Mel lost form and being, dissipating on the last breeze.
“Mel!” Katie whispered.
Let me go, Katie. Save yourself.
From somewhere the anger boiled to the surface, and Katie screamed at her sister. “How dare you leave me!”
Nothing answered her. No voice, no whisper of wind. She stared at the blank white snow, and the merest drift of snow crystals in the air.
_________________________________________
Katie stood, her feet cold in the snow, astonished at the sight. At least thirty to forty people stood around the tree, dressed in warm fur coverings, leggings, and knee-high boots, and with colorful scarves covered with intricate designs. Most of the people were older--older even than Katie's own parents.
Crunching snow to her left drew her gaze. A girl who looked about seventeen, red hair framing her face, freckles across her nose, approached her. The girl’s expression was open and friendly.
“Hello!” the girl said. “I’ve not seen you here before. Have you come to make your wish?”
“Wish?” Katie repeated.
“Yes. This is the Wishing Tree. Did you bring your decoration?”
“I’m sorry, I --,” Katie began, when her hand closed around Mel's decoration in her pocket. She pulled it out and stared at it.
“Oh!” the girl said. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. Will you hang it from the tree and make your wish? I have yet to hang mine..”
Since the girl had an expectant look on her face, Katie followed. She looked at the decoration in the girl’s hand--a doll--and marveled over the handiwork. The doll wore cloth that seemed to be made of some pliant leather and decorated with the same kind of intricate designs she saw on the girl’s scarf. The doll’s face, that of a young man, was hand-painted and very detailed. Mel’s decoration seemed very crude and primitive by contrast.
The girl hung the doll from a branch, saying, “I wish ---” The girl hesitated. “You go first, if you don’t mind.”
I only want one thing, Katie thought. I want my sister back.
She hung Mel’s ornament on the tree.
An expectant hush seemed to fall over everything. Katie felt the weight of it pressing down on her. The singers fell silent, and the tin whistle trailed away. She opened her mouth, and what came out was altered from what she had meant to say.
“I wish to see my sister Mel again.”
The wind sprang from nowhere, gale-force, flinging snow in faces and tangling Katie’s hair. She heard people cry out. The wind circled the Wishing Tree, which remained untouched.
Snow whirled, coalesced into a visible shape. As Katie watched, Mel looked back at her, an agonized expression on her face.
Katie reached out.
“Don’t!” someone said.
Katie hesitated. The girl grabbed her arm.
“She is a Yule Ghost! Touch her, and you will share her fate!”
“How can I help her?” Katie asked in a trembling voice. Her sister’s visibly tortured features shredded her insides.
“I—I don’t know,” the girl admitted.
The wind slowed, subsided to a sigh. Mel lost form and being, dissipating on the last breeze.
“Mel!” Katie whispered.
Let me go, Katie. Save yourself.
From somewhere the anger boiled to the surface, and Katie screamed at her sister. “How dare you leave me!”
Nothing answered her. No voice, no whisper of wind. She stared at the blank white snow, and the merest drift of snow crystals in the air.
Friday, August 27, 2010
What a world, what a world!
Or so said the Wicked Witch of the West as she melted into oblivion.
Fiction is wonderful, when it's going right. I've felt like I've been in oblivion for the past few months as far as my writing is concerned.
I am blocking out a new novel, and I'm cautiously enjoying it. Hope to have a snippet to post soon.
Fiction is wonderful, when it's going right. I've felt like I've been in oblivion for the past few months as far as my writing is concerned.
I am blocking out a new novel, and I'm cautiously enjoying it. Hope to have a snippet to post soon.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Doing Something I Swore Never to Do.....
Write a piece of fanfiction. I read the latest anthology Mercedes Lackey put out about her signature work, Valdemar, and thought, "I could do better than some of this stuff." So I did. Herewith is a snippet of it, with all the disclaimers in place---that this world belongs to Mercedes Lackey and not to me, etc., etc., and with all due apologies to Ms. Lackey.
Angel's Companion, Lia, alerts her to a visitor to Companion's Field.
As Angel approached the knot of Companions, she could hear the sobs and heaving breaths of someone whose entire world had fallen into ruin.
The Companions parted, and Angel could see the girl clinging to Lia's cannon, her face buried in the Companion's knee.
:You do attract the little girls, Chosen: Angel told Lia before she dropped her crutches to the ground, making as much noise as possible, and clumsily lowered herself to sit on the rough ground.
The girl raised a tear-blotched face.
"Hello," Angel said in a friendly voice. "I'm Angel,"--she pointed--"and that's Lia."
The girl scooted away.
"Don't worry," Angel said. "You didn't do anything wrong."
When Angel made no other moves and said nothing further, just sat, arms resting in her lap, the girl relaxed and scrubbed at her face. Angel judged her to be about twelve, all skinny arms and legs, and with wild, uncombed brown hair. The flash of eyes she'd seen had been brown.
"Will you tell me your name?" Angel asked with gentle tones, rather like those she used for soothing a frightened animal. "Just so I don't have to say 'hey, you, girl.'"
"Sasha," the girl whispered, and hiccuped.
Angel did her the courtesy of not smiling at the sound.
"You're a Herald, aren't you?" Sasha said.
"It's the Whites," Angel said, deadpan. "Gave me away, didn't it?"
Sasha tried to smile. At least her lips quivered as if making the effort.
"Journeyman status," Angel replied cheerfully. "Lia and I were out on circuit. We were, that is, until this." She thumped the cast on her leg.
"Did your leg get broken during a battle?" Sasha asked.
"We --er--weren't battling at the time," Angel said.
Lia snorted. :With a stirrup, maybe.:
Angel ignored her Companion and didn't volunteer the information that a mud-slick boot slipping from her stirrup while mounting had caused the injury. Some stories sounded better with bits left out.
Angel's Companion, Lia, alerts her to a visitor to Companion's Field.
As Angel approached the knot of Companions, she could hear the sobs and heaving breaths of someone whose entire world had fallen into ruin.
The Companions parted, and Angel could see the girl clinging to Lia's cannon, her face buried in the Companion's knee.
:You do attract the little girls, Chosen: Angel told Lia before she dropped her crutches to the ground, making as much noise as possible, and clumsily lowered herself to sit on the rough ground.
The girl raised a tear-blotched face.
"Hello," Angel said in a friendly voice. "I'm Angel,"--she pointed--"and that's Lia."
The girl scooted away.
"Don't worry," Angel said. "You didn't do anything wrong."
When Angel made no other moves and said nothing further, just sat, arms resting in her lap, the girl relaxed and scrubbed at her face. Angel judged her to be about twelve, all skinny arms and legs, and with wild, uncombed brown hair. The flash of eyes she'd seen had been brown.
"Will you tell me your name?" Angel asked with gentle tones, rather like those she used for soothing a frightened animal. "Just so I don't have to say 'hey, you, girl.'"
"Sasha," the girl whispered, and hiccuped.
Angel did her the courtesy of not smiling at the sound.
"You're a Herald, aren't you?" Sasha said.
"It's the Whites," Angel said, deadpan. "Gave me away, didn't it?"
Sasha tried to smile. At least her lips quivered as if making the effort.
"Journeyman status," Angel replied cheerfully. "Lia and I were out on circuit. We were, that is, until this." She thumped the cast on her leg.
"Did your leg get broken during a battle?" Sasha asked.
"We --er--weren't battling at the time," Angel said.
Lia snorted. :With a stirrup, maybe.:
Angel ignored her Companion and didn't volunteer the information that a mud-slick boot slipping from her stirrup while mounting had caused the injury. Some stories sounded better with bits left out.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Rescuing Realms of Fantasy
I just renewed my subscription to this magazine. I used to subscribe, years ago, but I drifted away. When I heard the mag might be in trouble, I remembered what I loved about it, and decided to buy a sub. Please help save a worthy venue for fantasy short stories.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Friday Snippet
Been awhile. Here's a snip of what I've been working on.
Rough draft, please don't quote or repost. Thanks!
The Wyrd's subtle presence wound itself around her senses, feeling like the lightest of touches against skin.
Ania paused, her hand hovering above the door handle, and examined the Wyrd. She did not think it was meant to harm, merely alert someone to entry. Ania smiled wryly. She reached out and grabbed the door handle.
The Wyrd broke with a nearly audible twang. Whomever had spoken it would have received the backlash of a broken Wyrd. She hoped it gave them a headache.
Rough draft, please don't quote or repost. Thanks!
The Wyrd's subtle presence wound itself around her senses, feeling like the lightest of touches against skin.
Ania paused, her hand hovering above the door handle, and examined the Wyrd. She did not think it was meant to harm, merely alert someone to entry. Ania smiled wryly. She reached out and grabbed the door handle.
The Wyrd broke with a nearly audible twang. Whomever had spoken it would have received the backlash of a broken Wyrd. She hoped it gave them a headache.
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