Meet the Villan: Nassus Televokov

Interview between Nassus Televokov and Fairy Lord Kilan. Setting: Fairy Fortress of Tammil, Revunia. 

The double-doors on the other side of the room banged open. Two fairy guards entered, carrying between them in chains the one fairy who was easily by now the most hated on the island. Lord Kilan's people had once supported Televokov, but now that the invasion had taken its toll they showed him only minimal favor. Televokov, everyone knew, was more of a serpent than a fairy: a cunning, ruthless manipulator who now thrived on his profits from Revunia's tragic downfall. Kilan had heard that much about him, but he had never had to deal with him personally.

Yet here he was, bound in magical chains, stripped of arms and armor, clad in only breeches and a long under-tunic, silver hair disheveled, staring hatefully at his captor with cold gray eyes. He knew that Televokov was sizing him up. Kilan was plainer in his appearance than most fairies. He wore his dark brown hair to his shoulders and kept it combed straight. His tunic of mustard yellow, dark trousers, and boots, were undecorated, and his dark cloak was clasped with a simple bronze brooch. The sword at his side had a handle of dull silver, and hung from a belt of dark leather. The two fairies stared at each other for a moment, before one of them finally spoke.

“Well, well, well, Lord Televokov at last,” said Kilan, trying to sound casual.

“My lord Kilan,” Televokov spat through gritted teeth.

Kilan looked up at his guards. “Release him. You are dismissed.”

The two fairy guards undid Televokov's chains and departed. Televokov stretched as he rose to regain his balance.

“I trust your stay has been comfortable,” Kilan commented calmly.

“Yes, my lord, it has been—for a dungeon cell, at least.” Televokov rubbed his wrists with visible discomfort.

“I see,” Kilan replied, retaining his level tone. He walked over to a small table on the side of the chamber, laden with refreshments. “Have a seat, my lord,” he commanded, indicating two chairs near the table. Without a word, Televokov walked up to the table, and the two fairies seated themselves on either side. “Would you care for something to drink?”

“Absolutely,” Televokov said coolly. Kilan raised a flagon of fairy wine and poured them each a goblet full of red liquid. Televokov watched the fairy general drink and sample some of the bread and cheese on the table before partaking himself.

“Now, tell me, Lord Televokov,” Kilan began after his prisoner had eaten some, “why you were out in our southern fields the other night after there had been a considerable uproar at Toornath Crater?”

“I am sure you know, my lord, what the uproar was all about,” Televokov answered scathingly.

“I do know, somewhat, but not everything.”

“Do you mean to interrogate me?”

“In a way, yes,” Kilan answered playfully, “but I also mean to inquire this of you as your honorable host.”

Televokov made a face, then relaxed. “I see you mean to gain my trust. I suppose you shall have it then,” he replied, eying Kilan mysteriously. “I suppose there's no need to suppress the fact that the incident at Toornath was a bit of, er, a fiasco.”

Lord Kilan stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The word is you led an attack on the Opposition's camp followers. What objective were you trying to fulfill by doing that?”

Televokov dropped his goblet to the table impatiently. “The objective is, and remains to this day, to strike out and destroy the Opposition in any way possible. With the guerrilla tactics they have been employing it has been difficult to implement any strategy.”

“Please forgive me, my lord, I am largely unaware of your forces' movements' in the recent battle.”

“Quite. In any event, we engaged the Opposition just as their main forces were entering the crater. We were planning to finish them off quickly, but the rebels were doing their best to drag it out. So I...engaged the prince in hope I would put an end to it.”

“But I heard he bested you, and the troll lord.”

Televokov's pale face began to redden. “Armalut's ferocity comes second only to his stupidity, General. Any fool could have bested him that day. But as for me,” Televokov sighed ruefully, “no one should have. The boy is a coward. The Opposition are not killers: their policy is secrecy and no mercy.”

“But what did happen?” Televokov did not reply, but, acting distracted, took a long swig of his wine. “My lord, does this have anything to do with the rumors about a unicorn being involved?”

Televokov choked and coughed. “No, this has everything to do with it!” he gasped angrily.

“Are you all right, my lord?” Kilan asked, feigning alarm.

“No, I am fine,” said Televokov as he choked down his cider, casting a venomous glance at General Kilan.

Kilan glanced nervously back. “Very well then, my lord, I will have to assume that the rumors are true.”

“Yes,” Televokov growled as he wiped his face with a napkin. “I was no match for his powers. He did a basilisk entrapment spell on me so I couldn't escape, but he was too noble to finish me off then and there—you know how unicorns are.”

“I see,” Kilan commented. “To brings us nearly back to the point, what were you doing in the fields outside our fortress?”

“I was getting to that,” Televokov sneered. He took a sip of wine and continued, “My horse was my best chance to get back to Ramalsk in a timely manner, but it had run off during the battle. I found its trail running north out of the crater, and then east toward your fields. I was there when your guards apprehended me.”

“Ah, I see. Well, since your only need by trespassing in independent fairy lands was to return to your home, it seems only fair to send you back to the goblins first thing in the morning,” said Kilan.

“Have you found my horse?” Televokov inquired over the rim of his goblet.

“No, but I'm afraid we have some unfortunate news for you,” Kilan responded.

“Oh. Do tell.”

“Lord Pintath and his goblins have moved in to seize total control in Revunia.”

“Oh, really? Now that's shameful of him.”

“Yes, it is a shame,” said Kilan. “He has declared himself sole ruler of Revunia and there is now talk that he is considering taking the throne as well.”

“Really?” Televokov raised an eyebrow. Kilan was surprised he was handling this so calmly.

“Well, I wouldn't know all the specifics, of course, being so far from the capital, but there has been some uproar in Ramalsk over this development.”

“Really, then? Well, I'd better get home, hadn't I?”

“Ahem, yes, you probably should.” Kilan continued, “I am sorry we have not been able to arrange this sooner, but I have been busy tending to my people's, er, security. I would encourage you not to feel that you have been treated unfairly; frankly, you're being repaid for all the waiting my people have done to have our petitioners admitted to your grace's presence.” He gave a knowing smile to Televokov, who, oddly enough, returned it.

“I see,” said Televokov finally, after they had stared in silence for a second. “I would not dare hold such a measure against you. In fact, I think I would like to stay here a little longer—provided, of course, I am given more appropriate accommodations.”

“That you may,” said Kilan, nodding approvingly while trying to hide his surprise. “You are welcome to stay on as my honored guest.”

“Naturally,” said Televokov, who quietly toasted the general. Kilan mirrored the gesture.

Walrus Encounter (And who is this Alexia?)

Excerpt from Northern Warriors Chapter 10--Hot off the griddle!

She was walking up the deck to the bridge when she heard a splash in the water to her left. She turned and saw a large walrus sticking his head above the waves. His head was brown and leathery, and his whiskers above his tusks were tan and wiry. The walrus' tusks were so long that they did not even stick above the water. Brittany was so stunned that she did not even gasp.

“Hello, there,” the walrus greeted her in a cheery British accent, his dark eyes twinkling at her. “This is the Blue Swan, isn't it?”

“Er, of course,” Brittany stammered.

“Well, aren't you going to invite me aboard?”

“I suppose you're welcome,” said Brittany. “But shouldn't I tell the captain?”

“Yes, of course, go tell Eric that Sir Oliver's here to see him,” the walrus nodded.

Brittany bolted for the bridge, bursting open the door. Eric and his assembled officers looked up at her.

“Captain, there's someone here to see you,” Brittany said.

“Who?” asked Eric.

“A walrus named Sir Oliver.”

“Ah! The council fleet's messenger,” Eylon said.

“Well, tell him to come on board,” said Evan.

“Right away,” said Brittany. She turned to go back on deck. Eric, Evan, and Eylon followed her.

Evan paused right outside the cabin door.

“What's up, bro?” asked Eric.

“Er, shouldn't the crow's nest have apprised us of his coming?” Evan wondered.

Oris heard them from the bridge. “Don't look at me, I'm off duty.”

“Staaaaamps!” Eric called up to the crow's nest.

On the crow's nest, Stamps had fallen asleep. He woke suddenly and looked around in confusion. “Uh, uh, oh, Walrus off starboard!” he cried.

“That's better,” said Eric. He walked up to the side of the ship across from Sir Oliver's bobbing head. “Come aboard, Sir Oliver, rest assured you're welcome.”

“Thank you, Captain,” said Sir Oliver. He extended his flippers from out of the water and reached over the side of the ship. “Wivota!” he shouted, and yellow sparks lifted his massive body from the water with a splash. He landed on the deck with the heaviest THUD Brittany had ever heard, and it rocked the ship from side to side. Most of the animal sailors yelled and tottered on impact. Below deck, a glass beaker that Minta was mixing potion into rolled down the cupboard and smashed against the wall, splashing green slime on the starboard side of the sickbay.

“I know that thud,” Minta said to herself as she began cleaning the mess with magic.

Above deck, Sir Oliver was exchanging pleasantries with Eric and Evan.

“How's trading been, old chap?” Sir Oliver said to Eric.

“Been fine. We were south of the equator for a few weeks right before we met up with the fleet in Sydney. The penguins were accepting shellfish for currency last summer, they were so abundant.”

“Nasty little vermin,” muttered Evan. “Er, I mean the shellfish.” He looked behind his shoulder to see Peter and Paul the penguins glaring at him.

“Shellfish ain't nasty,” muttered Peter.

“Nuff talk o' food, I'm starvin', mate,” Paul replied, rubbing his belly hungrily.

“And I suppose you are the Council representative on board, sir?” Sir Oliver asked Eylon.

“I am,” said Eylon, standing erect. “I am Eylon Allhin, a Lieutenant in the Enchanter's Council Security Corps.”

“Why of course, Eylon!” Sir Oliver exclaimed, extending a flipper to shake the elf's hand. “General Gyter Allhin's son, I shouldn't wonder. You've been studying in Scotland, I understand?”

“Yes, I've finished school and I've been working for the Enchanter's Council.”

“What did you major in?”

“Military Science with Magical Application, emphasis on Weaponry.”

“Splendid, splendid!” said Sir Oliver. “You're a jolly old chip off the old block, I shouldn't say so.”

“I suppose,” Eylon said, glancing away modestly. “But enough small talk. I expect you've come on official business?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Sir Oliver. “I bring several letters of instruction from the Council Fleet Commanders. Young lady, would you kindly remove the pouch on my shoulder?” Sir Oliver looked at Brittany and wiggled his massive shoulder, shaking a leather pouch strapped to his back.

“Yes, sir,” said Brittany, stepping forward. She went and undid the buckle to the strap. “Is this waterproof, sir?”

“Yes, indeed, my dear, it's a seal leather pouch with the strongest waterproofing magic in existence. I'm the Council's official courier in these waters.”

“Wow.”

“Just open the clasp, my dear, and hand out the letters inside. You'll find the addresses' names written in English below the official seal.”

Brittany undid the clasp on the pouch. The inside was completely dry. There were three letters inside, one for Captain Eric, one for Minta and the other for Eylon. She handed them out. Captain Eric told her thanks while Eylon only nodded.

“Where's Minta?” asked Brittany when the other two letters were handed out.

“I'm here,” Minta called from across deck as she flew above the for'ard hatch. She glided across deck and perched on the ship's railing behind Sir Oliver.

“Orion's Daughter!” Sir Oliver exclaimed when he saw her.

“Sir Oliver, how are you?” she asked the walrus.

“Doing splendid!” said Sir Oliver. “I understand you're the ship's surgeon on board?”

“Yes I am,” said Minta as she received her letter. “This is from my father, isn't it?” she asked, examining it.

“It is indeed,” Sir Oliver nodded, the blubber around his face shaking like jello. “A firebird from Revunia flew out to the fleet a few weeks ago. That's when the fleet commanders decided we needed to contact the Blue Swan.”

“So the fleet is still intact after that storm?” Minta asked.

“For the most part. Most of the ships sustained heavy damage, and that's slowed our progress. We lost the Merlin IV and the Rosabel, but thankfully the crews survived.”

“That's good to hear,” said Minta. “And it's good to know my father's still alive in Revunia, judging by this letter.”

“Aye, and if he is that means the Opposition is still on its feet fighting. Very reassuring.” Sir Oliver then cocked his head at Brittany. “And who might you be?” he asked her.

“I'm Brittany Stevens. I'm new to the crew.”

“New to the crew? Eric must've been crazy to hire you, how old are you? Twelve?”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven, ha, just younger than Princess Alexia, isn't she?” he asked Minta.

“I believe so,” Minta nodded as she opened the letter with her beak. She spat out the ripped paper. “Alexia's birthday isn't 'til July. When's your birthday, Brittany?”

“August twentieth,” said Brittany.

“There you go, they're a month apart,” Minta said to Sir Oliver.

“Ha, I'm sure she's just as plucky. Where did Eric pick you up, Brittany?”

“San Francisco,” Brittany said simply.

“Frisco? Is that where you wrecked?” he asked Eric.

“Indeed we did,” said Evan. “Right at her babysitter's house on the beach.”

Sir Oliver glanced bug-eyed at Brittany. “Extraordinary. Are you a mortal or a witch?”

“Mortal,” said Brittany.

“Mortal, eh? Are you training to become a middle-woman?”

“She is now,” said Minta.

Sir Oliver laughed heartily. “This is quite extraordinary. Forgive me, but I haven't properly introduced myself. I am Sir Oliver Walrus, North Pacific Messenger, Knight of the Order of the Star Hunters, Table of the Animal Wizards.” He leaned in closer to Brittany and whispered, “I was also a knight of Revunia, before the invasion. Grand Prince Orlando's messenger to the Pacific Rim, knighted for stupendous service.”

“Sir Oliver is one of the fastest messengers in the North Pacific,” said Minta. “Since the Invasion, he has served as a local representative for the Enchanter's Council.”

“And frankly I would like to keep the job after this whole business is over, they have good pay,” said Sir Oliver. He turned back to Eric, Evan and Eylon. “Ahem, the Enchanter's Council wishes me to tell you that you are not to waste time rejoining them but to retain your present course to Anchorage.”

“I thought as much,” said Eric.

“Where is the fleet?” asked Evan.

“Four day's sailing from here to the North-Northeast, but it's a good two-day swim so if you have a fast messenger then communication shouldn't be a problem.”

“And how are the seas ahead?” asked Eric.

“Rough, rough, but manageable. Nothing you can't handle, I should expect. You know something Eric, they say you're one of the best sailors in the fleet. Keep up the good work.”

“Will do,” said Evan, patting his brother on the back.

“Rather, hahaha!” Sir Oliver laughed. “It has been a pleasure to see you again, Captain. And a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stevens,” Sir Oliver said, nodding to Brittany. “Cherrio. Wivota!” Yellow sparks surrounded Sir Oliver, and he floated over the side of the ship and landed in the water with a tremendous splash. “I'll be giving the fleet a good report of you!” he called as he dived beneath the waves.

“Gosh, he's sure nice,” said Brittany.

Captain Eric looked over his letter. “Evan, I want an officers' meeting at two this afternoon in the meeting room. Spread the word.”

“Aye, sir,” said Evan.

“Eylon, I want you to be present and read your instructions to the officers.”

“Yes, Captain,” said Eylon as they returned to the bridge.

“Excuse me, Captain,” Brittany called after Eric.

Eric stopped and turned around. “Yes, Miss Stevens?”

“I've finished my practicing for today. Is there anything you need me to do now?”

“Well, thanks for asking, but I think we're good until lunchtime. We've got about half an hour. Oris wants you on KP after lunch. Stay out of trouble until then.”

“I will, Sir,” said Brittany, saluting. As Eric walked away, Brittany turned to Minta. “What's KP?”

“Kitchen duty,” said Minta simply as she read her father's letter.

Brittany nodded. She walked over to the railing next to Minta. “What's in your letter?” she asked, watching Minta as she read.

“News from Revunia,” Minta said quietly. “The Opposition is hiding in the Meikalon ridge in the south part of Revunia, but Father doesn't expect that to last long. He says he's doing well. The Royal Family is doing all right, but the two princesses have a nursemaid keeping them busy, sounds like. I wish I was there to be with Alexia,” she sighed.

“Who's Alexia?” Brittany asked.

“She's one of Grand Prince Orlando's daughters. She and her sister Caroline stayed in Revunia with Prince Dmitri after their mother took the rest of their family to Canada.”

“Oh. And I hear she's my age?” said Brittany.

“You heard right,” said Minta.

“Hm.” Brittany did not like the sound of that. It was people her age she had trouble getting along with.

“Alexia and I were the best of friends,” said Minta. “We met right before the invasion, and during a good part of her exile when I was staying in Revunia we played with each other. She knows how to treat an animal right. Younger children will fight over a pet. Alexia has always treated me gently.”

“Younger children aren't nice to you?” Brittany asked.

“Well, no, it's just Alexia's younger surviving siblings were rough on me. My brothers put up with it a little better—but they're males, so what you expect?”

Jack the dwarf walked across the deck to greet them. “What'd I miss?” he asked Brittany and Minta.

“Sir Oliver the Walrus just came by,” said Minta. “He brought letters from the fleet—and a letter from Father!”

“Oooh,” said Jack. “That's lucky. We haven't heard from the Opposition in ages. How's the fight going?”

“It appears to be going well for the moment,” said Minta. “Not much action so far this spring, he says.”

“Pah. They'll have some before the summer's out,” Jack said, waving his hand dismissively. “Evan just came by saying we're havin' an officers' meetin' at two. I should guess that's what this is all about. And it looks like you've got something to bring to the table.”

“Indeed,” said Minta.

“Want any help in the sickbay before noon?”

“I was just cleaning up a mess below deck,” said Minta. “Care to join me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Do you want to come, Brittany?” Minta asked Brittany.

“No, it's fine,” said Brittany. “I'll just stay up here.”

“Okay, then, we'll see you at lunch,” said Minta. She and Jack turned to leave, heading for the for'ard hatch.

(a picture that reminded me of this scene.)

Kitty Update

So, while I was starting work on Northern Warriors for today, my phone rang. It was from my family.
"Hello," I said.
"Hi, Lizy!" said my little sister. She was calling because they were in the process of naming our new litter of kittens (7 all told). She was wondering if I had a name to suggest for a little orange kitten with white spots.
"I have a character in my book that's an orange cat with yellow spots, and his name is Eric. So call him Eric. Captain Eric." My sister says she'll introduce me to little Eric tonight on Skype. :) Life is good.

Angry at Goblins, Porridge, or Both?

The camp followers were already eating lunch. They had left the ridge country and were now stopped beneath Toornath Crater, a low volcanic vent on the flanks of Mount Telvi. Some of the children were running up the hillside to play on the rocks ringing the crater but the Royal Family was staying put while Mrs. Yulyanov all but force-fed her children plus Alexia and Caroline a lunch of cold porridge. The mule had been unhitched from the cart and was grazing close by.

Alexia looked down angrily at her half-emptied porridge bowl. She did not think she could stomach another bite of the tasteless gray sludge. She sat her bowl aside and crouched on the ground behind the wagon while she watched the children eating.

“Why aren't you eating?” asked Nikita Yulyanov.

“I'm not hungry,” Alexia said coldly.

“Alexia, you must eat,” Gladya ordered as she wrestled with the two-year-old to spoon-feed him his porridge.

“I said I'm not hungry,” she repeated.

“Mother, I'm not hungry either,” Margaret Yulyanov said to her mother.

“Margaret, you must eat,” said Mrs. Yulyanov, feeding her baby while leaning against a rock.

“Alexia, for shame,” Gladya hissed at her. “Setting a bad example for the children. A princess should eat what is put in front of her.”

“I'm not a princess, Gladya, I'm an outlaw like everyone else in this camp!”

“Alexia!” Caroline shouted.

“Well, if you don't want to eat, give your bowl to someone who would be more grateful,” said Gladya.

“I'll feed it to the trolls if they show up,” Alexia spat.

“I'll take it,” said Maria Yulyanov.

“Here,” said Alexia, passing her the bowl. She got up and went to relieve herself behind some bushes. While she was gone, Maria tried to tuck into Alexia's porridge.

“Yech, I'm not sure I can eat this either.”

“Let me see it,” said Caroline, who was seated next to her. She looked over the porridge and tasted it. “It seems fine. Maybe you should heat it.”

“Should we use magic? Can I try a heating spell, Mama?” Maria called over to her mother.

“Let Caroline show you,” said Mrs. Yuluyanov as she burped her baby.

“Here, put one hand on it,” said Caroline. She and Maria each held up the bowl with a hand. “Virwen,” Caroline said.

“Virwen,” Maria repeated. Their hands glowed, and the glow spread over the bowl. Alexia returned and saw them using magic to heat the porridge. The glow dissapated. The bowl was warm to the touch but not hot, and the porridge was just the perfect temperature.

“Thanks,” said Maria.

“You're welcome,” said Caroline. Maria had a few bites of the porridge. “How is it?”

“Much better,” said Maria.

Caroline heard a rustling sound behind them and turned around. Alexia was storming away from the family's picnic site.

Alexia was upset by the fact that she had not thought to ask someone to heat the porridge for her with magic. Of course she never would have thought of it herself because, well, she was a half-witch and no sparks came out of her hands when she performed a spell.

It would be much easier to smear the porridge on all of their faces, thought Alexia. And if any trolls or goblins showed up I could smear it onto them, too.

“Can you heat my porridge, too?” she heard Nikita ask.

“I can,” said Caroline.

“ATTACK!” someone at the edge of camp shouted. Everyone looked up and stopped what they were doing as a messenger ran in from the side of the crater. “Goblins from the Toornath outpost. At least two hundred of them!”

The camp followers began panicking, gathering up their possessions and trying to flee with their children.

“Everyone leave your possessions!” one of the camp leaders shouted. “Run back to the ridge!”

Women and children began screaming. Although some people still tried to grab bundles from their carts and shoulder their packs, most of the wagons and heavy loads of food and clothing were left behind as the camp followers began to flee back the way they had come. Nikita slapped the mule on its hindquarters and told it to run. Mrs. Yulyanov's baby began to cry, and Gladya picked up and carried the two-year-old. Caroline took Margaret and Maria by the hands. Nikita tried to run the other way.

“Nikita, where are you going?” his mother shouted.

“I'm going to go fight them!” he called back.

“Come back here! You're too young!” Nikita groaned but obliged his mother, following his family in the rear. Alexia ran next to him, looking back as an army of goblins came around the base of the crater. Short and armed with mostly long, thin spears, the goblins came in yelling savage and bloodcurdling war cries that made Alexia's neck hair stand on end. Some of the scouts along with the old men and young boys guarded the rear of the Opposition camp. However, as Alexia watched, the goblins attacked this rear line of defense with swords, felling most of the defenders and breaking through. Ignoring the Opposition's possessions laying on the ground, the goblins began to hurl their spears at the women and children. Alexia had stopped to watch, but now she screamed as she turned around and ran to catch up with her family. Then she paused again. She turned back and ran to where the Yulyanov's had eaten their lunch.

Caroline turned around to see where Alexia was and saw her running back towards the charging goblins.

“ALEXIA, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” Caroline shouted at her.

“I have to try and stop them!” Alexia shouted back. She then resumed running.

Gladya and Caroline watched Alexia run back. “Go after her,” Gladya said. Caroline nodded and ran, the back of her dress billowing after her.

Alexia found the pot of leftover porridge still sitting in the Yulyanov's cart. Mrs. Yulyanov had made the batch yesterday, filling the pot so that there would be enough for the family for the entire week. It would do. Alexia carried the pot and, scooping with her bare hand, flung a large blob of porridge at the nearest goblin from behind the cart.

“Take that!” Alexia shouted.

The goblin got the porridge on the side of his face, slopped from his eye down to his mouth. The goblin spat out the bits that had got in his mouth.

“Blah! Pleh! Why YOU!” The goblin prepared to rush Alexia with his spear. Alexia flung another handful of porridge at his face and ducked to the other side of the cart. The goblin got the porridge in his eyes. Alexia saw another goblin charging at her and threw porridge at him. She missed. He lunged angrily at her,. She ducked under the cart. He threw his spear and it landed under the cart, knocking over the porridge bowl. The goblin bent down to pick it up again, but before he could Alexia grabbed the tip. The goblin gawked at her in confusion as they began to play tug-of war with the spear. The first goblin tried to attack her from behind. She threw the second goblin at the cart, and with their combined impact they pushed the cart over with all its contents still intact. The first goblin screamed in agony as he was crushed and the second while he was knocked over. She finally wrested the spear from his grasp and walked away.

Several charging goblins flung their spears at Alexia. She ducked them, and all of a sudden she had a flashback to the invasion when she had done the exact same thing. Anger surged through her frame. It was time for payback.

“You'll never hurt my family again!” Alexia shouted, thrusting her spear at one of the goblins before he could pick his spear off the ground. He fell over, wounded. She attempted to attack another goblin with a similar thrust, but he drew a short sword at his side and blocked the spear. He attempted to stab her, but she hit him on the side with the staff of her spear. He fell with a yell and rolled over.

“Wusses!” she shouted.

“Alexia, what are you doing here?” came Caroline's shout from behind her. “We have to go!”

“I'm trying to stop them. Leave me alone!” Alexia said to her sister as she blocked a goblin from attacking them.

“You can't stop two hundred goblins all by yourself!”

“I sure feel like it!”

“Let's just go!” Caroline shouted, grabbing her by the shoulder just before another goblin tried to spear them. As they were running back, however, they saw the Opposition camp running back their direction, screaming.

“What the?” Caroline shouted. They ran up to one of the scouts who was riding on horseback. “What's happened?” she demanded.

“Another goblin army has come from the east, led by Lord Televokov. We're making for the crater!”

“What? But we'll be sitting ducks in the crater!”

“The edge of the forest is on the other side. If we can make it to the trees we might stand a chance!”

“Drop the spear, Alexia, there isn't time,” Caroline told her sister. “We've got to run.”

Knowing it was probably a better idea to run, Alexia did what she was told and ran with her sister up the side of the mountain.

Finding Heaven

A girl who has been in Hades for the last several months was sweeping the floor when suddenly the words "Heaven is a place we want to go..." came to mind. She jotted down her ideas in a notebook, finished sweeping, and started to write to capture the feeling of heaven she has been looking for for a long time. I post this in hope that anyone who comes across this page will find the inspiration they are seeking.

What is Heaven?

Heaven is a place

we hope to go.

What it is like there

few can know.

It is a place

we cannot see,

where we are strong,

and young

and free.

The ones we love

will meet us there

and dress us in

robes of whiteness rare.

We will not hunger,

thirst or cry,

The sun shines without

smarting the eye.

We go to rest

from earthly care

so long as we bring

no sorrow there.

Heaven, Heaven,

where will we go?

O'er plains of grain

or mounts of snow?

Heaven is a place

we hope to be,

a place on earth

we cannot see,

a place in space

we cannot spy

except for the light

in our own eye.

Heaven is with

our friends on earth

who give love daily

from our birth,

Love comes from

their tender breath

that blows until

they greet

their death.

Heaven is

a warm embrace,

a merry laugh,

a gentle face.

'Tis where we go

when life does fail

and Jesus waits

beyond a veil.

Life in Exile--A Princess' Tale

I have had a busy month. The poetry night, of course, was a success. Everyone enjoyed my poetry and homemade oatmeal cookie bars (I even sent some leftovers home with the guests). Then what happened...blah...oh right, I helped the Medieval Club entertain at the Springville Summer Library, and I volunteered for New Student Orientation--what a total blast! Then I went on vacation for what feels like three weeks but was actually a week and a half. I recited a couple of poems at the talent show at the Family Reunion, making a great impression with a goofy double limerick about a Penguin....another time. My dad wanted me to read more of my stuff to the family but I didn't get the chance. Since I came down with a cold that last weekend I suppose I didn't object at the time but it still feels like a shame. Maybe the next time I go up to grandma's I can make up for that.

But in the last week I have made progress on Northern Warriors. The Blue Swan has launched for Revunia with Brittany Stevens on board. Hooray! And now I am following up on the excitement in Revunia as Alexia and her family face the goblin and troll armies that have invaded their country.

I am a very tangential writer. That is, if I get stuck on one detail it will get me off track for the rest of the chapter. So walking a very delicate line, I tried to describe the chaotic, unbalanced lives of Princess Alexia, her sister Caroline, and their brother Dmitri while trying to illustrate a scene. And I think I did an okay job of it. I like the way it weaves in and out of the setting to Alexia's mind and then into her memories and a description of events. The flow felt sort of like an essay. Here is the excerpt from Chapter 8, in which the Opposition camp followers are preparing to flee an army of trolls that has come to aid the goblins in destroying them:

The Revunian Opposition was camped along the Meikalon Ridge, a maze of small canyons in the south of Revunia made from numerous outcrops of volcanic rock that stretched from the flanks of Mount Telvi through the South Plains almost to the Nymph colony of Samasvvara, destroyed by goblins in the invasion three years ago. The few surviving nymphs had given shelter to the Opposition in some of the larger canyons once in their possession. While the goblins had attempted to attack them from the north and east, the Opposition armies had held them off at the northern boundaries of the ridge country while the camp followers—their families and friends unable to fight for themselves—waited in the center. They had moved every so often to keep safe, staying close to the villages in the north so the Opposition armies could defend the Revunian villagers from goblin mauraders, straying from civilization for safety when the goblins pressed too close. Over time, the army's numbers had dwindled, and engagements with the goblins became fewer.

Now, however, the situation was different. Alexia sensed as she followed Caroline through the camp that the tension in the air was strong enough to break glass. Tents were being ripped from their pegs, possessions bundled and packed without further organization, wagons stocked haphazardly as the camp followers prepared to leave. In spite of the confusion, Caroline was trying to run at full speed down the ridge, dodging bags of food and braying mules, sometimes grabbing Alexia by the hand and dragging her at the same breakneck pace. Alexia wanted to protest, but she had experienced emergency relocations such as this before. She knew that speed was of the essence. 

Now the tricky part: Introducing the nursemaid. 

They found Gladya with the Yulyanov family cart, holding Tatiana Yulyanov's baby as it cried and the worried mother dressed her fussy children. Alexia assumed that the father was already out with the gathering army.

Gladya was a tall nymph with a round face and dark curly hair stuffed behind a scarf. The blue eyelids indicative of her race appeared gray and green in the light of the camp torches now being extinguished.

“Do you have your things, Caroline?” she asked Caroline in her reedy voice.

“Yes, Gladya,” Caroline gasped.

Gladya looked at Alexia, who was moaning. “My feet hurt,” Alexia groaned. “And my stomach hurts.”

“Did you drag her here?” Gladya gaped at Caroline.

“She was already out of bed!” said Caroline. “I thought you wanted us here as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, but you can't rush the young, dear, why do you think this baby's crying? Here, you take it. Alexia, put yours and Caroline's things in the Yulyanov's cart.” Gladya shoved the baby into Caroline's arms and helped Mrs. Yulyanov dress her two-year-old that was currently in the throes of a tantrum. “You could have left him asleep for this, Tatiana.”

Alexia looked at the screaming boy. She was reminded of her unfortunate two-year-old brother Ivan, who had been killed by the fairy Televokov. Not wanting to dwell on her traumatic memories, she turned to the packs that Caroline had dropped. She threw them into the Yulyanov's small cart, not yet halfway loaded. The oldest son, Nikita, was helping his sister Margaret take down the tent. Their mule was being quickly combed and bridled by Margaret's twin sister Maria. Alexia sighed. The Royal Family had never had a cart of their own. They had always traveled with other families, shoving their few belongings into other vehicles, walking with other camp follwers, sometimes losing track of the wagon that had their bedrolls and having to search everyone else's things, sometimes finding their parcels discarded like rubbish or sometimes not finding them for a night or two until after making camp, sleeping on borrowed bedding.

The autumn following the invasion, Grand Princess Yelena and her surviving children were rescued by Nikolas Morhanat, who had escaped capture, and the Opposition, and they had taken them to safety in the Yeri caves on the northwest shores of Revunia. Yelena took most of her children to Canada to live in exile. Dmitri had to remain behind, however, to help lead the Opposition, and Caroline chose to remain to look after him. Alexia had volunteered to stay as well. She had no desire to leave her homeland, not even when it was almost completely conquered by goblins. She told her mother that she wanted to stay and help, and although Yelena was reluctant she decided Alexia would be happier in Revunia for the time being.

Now, almost two years after her mother had left, Alexia wondered if she really was happier. She had found a few friends among the camp followers' children, but contrary to her expectations she was spending less and less quality time with her family—unless, of course, quality time meant peeling potatoes and doing laundry with Caroline and Gladya. Dmitri, busy with training and conducting the military operations of the Opposition, was frequently busy during the day. Caroline sometimes lamented that he worked too hard to be a boy anymore. And too many of the other boys in camp, she would complain next, were trying too hard to be men. While she was obviously bemoaning the fact that the boys Caroline's age were all too busy being soldiers to be lovers, Caroline never said this, even though Alexia clearly knew she meant it. And in turn, Alexia wondered, and wondered if Caroline wondered, if they were too busy being women to be girls anymore. Or if, perhaps, they were too busy being peasants to be princesses.

Princess. She hardly felt like royalty anymore, she thought to herself as she saw Caroline rocking the fussy baby and getting burped on. She wondered if she had ever felt that way before in her life, if being a refugee for too long had taken all the royal bearing out of her. Caroline still acted like a princess the way she lorded over Alexia sometimes and walked tall with her hair in a bun the way a grown-up did. Or, rather, she was more like a governess. In the absence of a mother, it was clear that Caroline was taking after the bossy and demanding Gladya. Gladya was a distant cousin of their mother's, too distant to be considered royal and too distant to be called an aunt. Alexia honestly had no idea how their mother had known Gladya at all. She had been with the camp followers since the beginning, one of the Nymphs displaced from Samasvvara, with apparently no family or relatives or any reason to be there other than for protection. She had helped Yelena look after the family while she remained in Revunia, and when the Grand Princess left she had Alexia, Caroline, and Dmitri placed in her care. It was her job to make sure that Dmitri stayed fed and watered, that Caroline helped her to run the camp and the royal household (or whatever was left of it), and that Alexia pitched in to help when called for. She was very serious for a nymph, almost as cold-humored and sober as an elf elder. Whenever she opened her mouth, it was usually to give some sort of command or to converse about ducks and chickens or laundry and babies. She only used magic to fix, mend, and cook, but never for display or decoration. She appeared heartless enough to remind Alexia of a school headmistress she had read about in a book a very long time ago. The Revunian Royal court was not known for taking on governesses, but Gladya was in line for breaking that tradition.

But when Dmitri was not there to answer Alexia's concerns, as he so often was, it was Gladya to whom she would turn for answers.

“Gladya,” Aleixa asked, “Why is the camp moving now?”

“Because we are under threat of attack,” Gladya told her curtly. “All I'm hearing is that trolls from Siberia are attacking the south coast and they're coming after us.”

“My husband heard there were at least five hundred of them,” said Mrs. Yulyanov.

“Five hundred!” gasped Caroline. “Surely our armies aren't enough to stand up to them.”

“That's why your brother-in-law has gone to the elves,” said Gladya.

“He has?” asked Mrs. Yulyanov in surprise. It was apparently news to her.

“He has indeed,” said Gladya. “General Allhin has offered help to us numerous times before. Dmitri has declined, but now the need is urgent. They need the elves to help drive back the trolls until we reach safety.”

“But where are we going?” asked Caroline, who was rocking the now-sleeping Yulyanov baby.

“To the Feir caves,” said Gladya. “The Dwarfs have offered us shelter there. It will be a much more secure place to hide.”

Alexia privately agreed with Gladya's statement, although she would miss living in the open country along the Ridge. After her mother had left, the Opposition had left the Yeri caves for the Ridge in order to protect the outlying villages and confront the goblin army head-on. Although Alexia and few others knew the full implications of the sudden Troll attack, she had a feeling, and could tell by the looks on Gladya's and Caroline's faces, that the goblins would now have an advantage over them.

The mule was hitched to the cart. The camp followers assembled themselves into their respective families. Torches were doused. It was now completely dark except for a faint light outlining the distant volcanic peak of Mount Telvi.

“I wish we would get going,” Caroline muttered. “I thought we were in a hurry.”

“I thought we were too, but apparently not everyone has the same idea of a hurry,” said Gladya. “Apparently Henry Wilian kissed his wife and children goodbye in bed but forgot to tell them the camp was leaving.”

Caroline grunted in disgust, rolling her eyes. Alexia leaned against the cart. It was going to be a long day.

And no thanks to a dark shadow hovering over them in the darkness, watching them, it was going to be even longer.

Poetry Night Upcoming!

To those of you who haven't heard the news yet, I am holding a Poetry Party on Saturday night!

Here's a sneak peak at some of the poetry I'll be reading:

at least two of them I am reading just for the sound or the sensation....

Swimming Sonnet

How icy at first the water so seems!

Splash in and spin around, cold goes away.

Hold your breath, swim beneath the dancing beams,

then kick your legs, let exercise be your play.

Be a ballerina with outstretched leg,

down where the waters to your shoulders creep,

Become a mermaid with a fishy peg,

then, human again, come back from the deep.

Go to the ledge and let yourself free fall,

race down, touch bottom and then upward fly.

Kick and churn the water, there feel the thrall

wherever you surface facing the sky.

Get out, rinse off, make yourself dry again,

and in repose you'll see the mountains spin. 

 quite a few I am sharing just to share my life experience with my friends.

 

Broken Umbrella

(Written in Fall 2008, Arizona)

Umbrella unfurled –

done with difficulty.

Dangling rod

hanging from the spidery frame –

dangerous.

Ignorable.

Walking into the rain.

Person running across the street,

soaked.

Wet shirt flinging.

River running down the hill,

in the gutter.

Friends join.

Laughing.

Running through the puddles

in the rain

pouring.

Perfect day for a splash –

Laughing,

Splashing in puddles.

Wet.

Rainy day

perfect for a broken umbrella. 

and of course I'll be showing off my latest creations...

 

 (this photo is copyright me)

Meditation on a Meandering Stream

 

Sometimes life

is like

a stream

and with it

we

must flow,

resting where

the eddies

stop,

running where

they

go.

Nearly bumping into rocks,

gently carried

around,

drifting where

it slowly

crawls,

drowning

where rapids

sound.

But is life always

like

a stream?

Do we float

without

oar?

Are we

only

drifting?

Is there something

worth drifting

for? 

and here is one more to reward anyone who reads this far

Cup of Life

Sweet cup of life!

I take thee by the glass

and tip thee to my lips.

All at once I am joined with thee!

Sweet nectar coming in

from out of my mouth,

my hands are fastened, never to release!

I drink to all my health and happiness,

the painted galaxies and myriad stars,

the forces of time and fate and destiny,

of choice and consequence,

to things broken and remembered,

people loved and lost!

Hurts made whole,

ancient things fulfilled and remembered.

I see these things in thy waters,

O cup of time,

and I drink to them.

and here are some tulips from earlier this spring (photo copyright me)