Hi Guys,
Sorry its been so long since I've posted (I have a feeling that this is becoming a mantra for me!). But I have an excuse. I've been busy writing Days of Light and Shadow, and finally the end of the book is in sight. It's been like climbing a mountain, not that I have ever or would ever do that.
So I thought in this post I'd give you all a sneek preview at what's in the book - the first chapter. Please note this is only the first draft and it hasn't been even through the first edit, so apologies for the typos etc. Also this chapter contains a rather brutal rape scene which sets off the entire tale, and though I've done my best to keep the gory details out of it, it's still not something I would recomend for children etc.
Let me know what you think.
Chapter One.
Elwene was kneeling in quiet prayer at the
Altar of Rose Fury, trying to feel the spiritual power of the Mother upon the
spot, but mostly enjoying the warmth of the spring day and the sweet aroma of
the flowers. Blue tufted geese flew through the skies above, honking their
strange song for all to hear, while on the ground a few leap rabbits were busy
hunting for tasty treats.
They were cheeky creatures, too bold by half,
especially in the Grove where they knew they were safe, and if you weren’t
watchful, you would turn around to find your lunch gone. Some had even had
their lunches snatched out of their hands as the little thieves struck while
leaping past them with all the magical speed they were famed for. But that was
no great hardship in this place of plenty. Maybe it was even a reason to give
thanks to the Mother for the endless wonder of her world. And for her touch on
this special grove.
She didn’t truly know if the Mother heard her
quiet words, or if she cared, but in the end Gaia was life and the rest didn’t
matter. It was enough just to feel her presence all around and dwell in that
pleasure. And Wildwood Rose Grove was filled with her presence. As had been all
the other wild groves she had visited over the previous weeks.
Often she wished that her brother knew the same
joy, but he didn’t and she feared that he never would. Since their parents had
died in a tragic riding accident and he had been elevated to High Lord, he
seemed to understand little but power and anger. And by the laws of
primogeniture he had the first in large measure while grief had granted him the
second. It was as if with their deaths, they had both been transformed. Elwene
had found her calling, and maybe in a few more years she would enter the
priesthood, in time becoming an elder. Sadly Finell had found the darkness of
pain and grief instead, and the need to lash out at others. And it wasn’t
helped by that black hearted advisor of his. Between the two of them they had
transformed Elaris into a much darker place.
Soldiers on the streets everywhere, their
silver chain blackened with pitch to make them seem more frightening. A prison,
a place of darkness and fear, built in the very heart of Leafshade. Why did
they need such a place? But the two of them had swiftly provided the answer as
Finell enacted more and more unfair laws. Laws that penalised the innocent if
they were not of the seven great houses, and especially if they were not of
elven blood.
She still didn’t understand that. Why he’d
turned in such a dark direction. It was as though he blamed the outsiders for
their parent’s deaths. But there was no reason to, it was simply an accident,
and Finell would not speak to her of his heart. He spoke to her of very little.
They lived together in their family home, the last remnants of their immediate
family, saw each other daily, and should have been becoming closer because of
the tragedy. Yet the fact was that he seemed more a stranger with every day
that passed.
He was no closer to the rest of their family.
He loathed their Uncle Tenir, probably because he was the First of House Vora
and so in some respects his master. But he hid it well. For a while she’d hoped
he was becoming closer to Uncle Brettle in Heartwood Grove. The two were closer
in age then others in their House. He’d even spoken about going out hunting
with him one day. But then Brettle and his wife Claudine had been trampled to
death by a rampaging fell ox and that hope had quickly died.
Some days it seemed that fortune did not favour
them. That House Vora was slowly dying.
Illness and disease stalked their elderly. Misfortune preyed on the rest. It
had just been another sad chapter in their house’s never ending book of woe.
But still another terrible accident in the family, so soon after the death of
their parents. It must have crushed Finell. And even before that when their
grandmother Varla had passed after a short illness, he had been hurt.
As she often did Elwene said a small prayer for
her brother as well, in the hope that he would one day return to the light, and
with him the realm. But she wasn’t hopeful. His road had become too dark for
too long, and his return would be hard.
“Lady Elwene!” The sound of her attendant
crying out her name distracted her and surprised by the commotion, Elwene looked
up to see Terra running for her. Running hard.
The sight annoyed her briefly. It was wrong.
People didn’t run in the sacred grove. This was a place of tranquillity, a
place where a woman like her could spend some quiet time in contemplation and
study. It was not the sort of place where people ran and screamed. And yet
something in the way she screamed, in the rush of her sandaled feet upon the
ground, spoke to Elwene of fear. But what was there to be afraid of? Nothing in
this place surely.
Heartbeats later she looked beyond Terra’s
frantic dash to the tree line at the edge of the glade, and it was then that
she understood her desperation. Brigands!
It couldn’t be, but even as she watched she saw
them emerging from the depths of the forest on their horses, brandishing their
weapons, and galloping for the assembled priests and elders engaged in their
rituals. They in turn were only just beginning to realise that something was
wrong. But reactions dulled by years of prayer and disbelief, stopped them from
doing the sensible thing, and running. They needed to. No one in the grove
carried a weapon. It would be considered an insult. And their magic was
limited. They were priests not war-spells
Then the first of the riders reached them, some
dark weapon in his hand, and he galloped straight through the middle of them,
screaming at the top of his lungs and swinging wildly. But there was no lack of
direction in his aim. The blade hit him square in the back. Blood sprayed in a
gory fountain from the very first blow, she could it see it so clearly against
the starched white linen of his robe, before the priest fell to the ground,
either dead or terribly wounded. But he was only the first.
More brigands reached the priests in mere
heartbeats, descending on them like a pack of wolves, and she could see the
blood spraying and the people falling everywhere. She could hear the screaming
too. Men and women, many of them elderly, frightened and confused as they ran
in all directions. But they couldn’t escape. They were too slow. Far too slow.
The brigands were on horseback, and charging down those who ran with war cries
on their lips.
Soon it became a sport for them as they shouted
to one another about each new murder, celebrating their evil.
The brigands knocked them over with their
weapons, and then when they were down, their horses trampled them with the
steel shod hooves as they rode over them again and again. Some few made the
distant trees, but they were few, and many of them were wounded. And even there
they weren’t safe. Several of the bandits were taking aim at them with
crossbows, bringing them down like wild animals for the pot.
Terra was taken that way. One moment she was
running for her, screaming in terror, the next she had fallen face down into
the grass, a crossbow bolt in her back. Elwene could see the look of horror and
disbelief in her dying eyes, just before her face hit the grass.
“Mother bless your children.” Still kneeling in
front of the small shrine at the far end of the valley, Elwene uttered her
frantic prayers, as she suddenly realised that she had to run too. She was only
still alive because she had not been noticed, as she remained so still, away
from the others. But that would not last. Already she could see some of the
black armoured brigands looking her way, and soon she knew, they would be
coming for her as well.
Terrified, she took to her heels as quickly as
she could, heading for the trees, but expecting with every stride to feel the
pain of a crossbow bolt embedding itself in her back or an axe cracking her
head in two. She had never been the fastest runner, she had never had either
the need or the desire.
“And where might you be running to My Lady.”
She heard his mocking voice, saw his steel clad arm reach out for her and tried
to dodge. But she was far too slow and he had her by the throat before she
could even scream. She hadn’t even realised that, as she’d watched the others
being slaughtered by brigands coming from the southern end of the glade, some
had been creeping up on her from the north.
“Leaving us so soon?” He laughed some more, a
dark and terrible sound more suited to a troll than a man. But he was surely as
large as a troll, and just as powerful. And he stank like one as well. But
worse then that, his men laughed with him, enjoying their game, and she knew
that they had evil plans for her. The sister of the High Lord, she realised
that it was no coincidence that they had come for the priests here and now.
They had come for her.
The black clad giant started dragging her back
to the centre of the glade, and all her dead friends, laughing with every step
he took. Laughing and telling her exactly what he was going to do to her.
Elwene screamed, or she tried to, but his
armoured fist was tight around her throat, blocking off her precious air, and
what came out was a gurgling sound. And though she used her fists against him,
they were equally useless. He was dressed from head to foot in black metal and
chain, and flesh could not stand against it. All she did was hurt her fists.
But that didn’t stop her trying.
Soon, though it seemed like an eternity had
passed, he had her back in the middle of the glade, and she could see the
bodies all around her. Her friends and fellow priests, respected elders, decent
elves, their bodies broken and torn as though by wild animals. She could smell
the blood. The beautiful green grass was covered in it. Their perfectly
laundered white robes were drenched in it.
Then he lifted her up, one handed, and smashed
her back down on the alter stone, hammering her so hard that she very nearly
passed out. But he wouldn’t have cared if she had. Neither would she. It would
have been a mercy. He wanted only one thing, and it was too horrible for words.
And still it was happening. Holding her down against the cold stone with his
hand around her neck, he tore her robes off her, yelling madly with every piece
of linen that came away in his hands. Soon there was no more, and she was lying
there on the cold stone in front of him, naked.
“No.” Somehow she managed to squeak out the
word, but it made no difference. He just laughed, even as he loosened the draw
string that held his britches up.
“And now my lady -.” He mocked her some more as
he kicked off his britches, and she could suddenly see everything she had never
before imagined, never wanted to. “If you could scream a little more. There are
still a few of your useless piss bearers hiding in the woods, and Yaris wants
them to see everything.”
Yaris? Even in her fear the name caught her
attention. The dark robed little military advisor to her brother? She didn’t
understand. And then she did. He was an evil little man. A dark hearted beast
that walked as an elf, and no doubt he had plans for her brother. Terrible
plans. And she understood one thing more in that final moment of painful
clarity. If his servant was happy to use his name in front of her, then he had
no intention of letting her live.
Despite it being exactly what he wanted her to
do, she screamed then, unable to help herself.
She screamed a lot more as well as he committed
his vile acts upon her, and all the while the dark armoured man laughed and his
darker master’s plans came true.
