I have been going back over the early stuff I rewrote and this is an idea of how it will look. Bear in mind that once again most of what I’m writing is as much structure as first draft edited. This early stuff has received a re-write cum edit cum rethink after I lost the book and most I have now managed to get back but by that time I re-started it and now the two halves don’t hang together.
This will take the earlies I’ve released upto ‘Chamber House Politics’.
First out was Martan Matira, snorting in his thick accent, he was big for a dwarf as he now needed two Guards to help him move about and his weight made movement slow.
Martan was swiftly followed by David Jamesson whose tones and voice were moderated – usually by the sound system, although compared to James Droga who bellowed like a stuck pig and to a degree looking like one; anyone was!
It took another half hour before James Droga finally decided to land – the Droga’s being the most major of the ruling Parties and therefore stood on their pride and everyone else’s, if given a chance.
The Admirals finally arrived outside the entrance to the cave – due ceremony went by the elbow; usually into the other dwarfs. Passing Guards jumped in to separate the Admirals fighting each other.
The Admirals would appear as images in the Council Chamber after their bodies had been inserted into tubes at the cliff site and they were protected by Guards during this time.
In a way they never cared about anything including their Guards loyalty, and their belief in themselves was such they never realised that if they were so loved and respected why were their bodies being stacked up in a secured facility to meet a request for their appearance in the Chamber House.
The Red Stone Gate watched as they approached: intelligence in stone might be; slow but then perhaps it still thought faster than the Admirals approaching it.
The door ponderously swung open as they approached, casting a long shadow over them and showing a long dimly lit tunnel that seemed to move as they entered and the Gate then spoke to them, “leave your weapons outside of my entrance.
Within my entrance your bodies will not be molested – you will live within my portals but how you live will never be my decision.” The walls seemed to pulse as they spoke with dull red veins sparkling as they walked.
They seemed to walk for a long time, arguing as they invented stories as Politicians do until they entered a chamber which stopped them in full lies. The chamber sparkled albeit with barely enough room for them and four small cylinder shaped containers but that stopped them in mid-flow.
It was small with beams of light hitting their chests – some colours bounced off them, leaving them looking very odd; other colours danced around them, their heads and beards changing colour as if the lights saw more than their images; their eyes blued as the lights now seemed to be satisfied but colours danced on and around them until the chamber walls changed colour as they looked and the colours radiated from them.
Now the walls became images that took them through their pasts; visions of blood they spilled and as if they had never been there, it read their brains and put them onto the stone walls; to the dwarfs it was a demand for their future lives.
A cracked and crackling square exploded into colour and light danced. The colours seemed to melt into their thoughts and red was the first and major colour but what did each of them see? Was it the same vision? Was it a history? A putrescence of a future? They jerked as if they were carrying the sticks to beat wives; babies or their own people as they watched but the visions on the wall somehow did not match the expressions on their faces.
James Droga looked at his two companions, “Why do we go through this rubbish. We have the Guards, lets shed some blood in the Chamber House, it’s the only thing they understand.”
Martan Matira looked up and shook his head, “four hundred thousand dead and you want to kill more? Already the lesser families, aided by the De Bowed and Du Storme’s traitor’s are plotting and you – James – want to give them more reasons to plot? We chose this as the safest route; now can we actually get to this place where we are safe or turn back!”
“I never turn back!” Shouted James Droga, “We lead – this rabble aren’t good enough?”
“Let us hope so, Admiral Droga. I just hope they aren’t good enough or we are dead – as dead as you like toymaker dwarf’s dead. We left our weapons outside.”
“Yes. It seemed to take you forever? Who were you plotting to kill?”
A timbre harmonic voice echoed from the walls, surrounding them with almost visual sound, “take off your mail-shirts and helmets; they don’t matter; they will interfere with the process.”
To the dwarf Admirals it did matter; they felt naked as they stripped off their mail-shirts and helmets, leaving fat bellies and hair roots showing black hair. Had they mirrors they would have noticed a black tinge where the red hair and eyes showed black, and their eyes were now showing blue respectively, meaning they weren’t true dwarfs but from the Old Stock that they killed without thinking.
They stood upright before the silver capsules as supplicants seeking safety and that was promised by the Red Brick Gate, “You fail to understand Admirals, you really do. I am Old Magic and so is a lot of Dwarvia. You are also Old Magic, yet you hide and pervert it. You build images and claim they are this planet’s desires but they are your desires and no-one else’s; now see your desires!”
Capsules erupted longways; reverting to vertical and four capsules towered in front of them. Within the capsules they were protected against everything unless of course they were removed and forced to physically be in the Chamber where they would probably be dead within seconds of doing so.
Admirals relied on Guard’s loyalty or the Guards were killed and the Guard’s families knew loyalty was on the cutting edge and the Admirals held the blade.
The Admirals lay dreaming of four hundred thousand prisoners scattered across anywhere … the pain, killing and hardship never bothered them – they weren’t dying; someone else did the killing, and they seemed to know they were just dreaming, but dreaming of what. They didn’t dream of ‘ruling no more’ – they never believe they would cease to rule and a new planet would give them time to rule.
They danced dreams of four hundred thousand dead; two hundred thousand prisoners rioting but war to them was war as they never used their own people – they won the wars and the people paid afterwards but who was ever honest in warfare, and now, part of the dream became a nightmare as they lost power and in their minds … they lost position – the greatest of losses.
The Chamber House in a lot of ways resembled an upturned salad bowel. It had been designed by someone with fetish for the colour blue and with the flashing lights on the ceiling it resembled something not normally seen sober.
The roof of the Chamber produced a lot of images as well and during this time as it seemed to have taken on a life of its own often showing images that annoyed the Admirals even more as their ideas became more apparent than they wished but most times it showed stars and not Politicians who thought they were the stars but it would take a long time to destroy Venal Politicians – stars or not although the slaughter during disputes actually became so bad that automatic washing in the Chamber was stopped as bodies floated downwards however the dwarfs at the top didn’t mind that although the sound of the water was also drowning the sound of them out, and that they did mind!
What was unusual for the dwarfs was that they did sometimes worked together until they realised they couldn’t trust anyone, included themselves and this now seemed to be the case as they betrayed each other whilst they thought of the future, or more often of the past and who they couldn’t trust.
It was usually a case of dwarf eat dwarf whether there was any sauce or not as they piled into each other with relish although the blood troughs coped even if they did overflow a little during fierce political debates.
The dwarfs, between attacks did stop for meetings – usually from exhaustion however it was often to plan for the next attack on someone else so the minutes of meetings often only lasted seconds when someone was left standing to apparently take them, yet this time, the clamouring and rioting in the street finally seemed to have made it into the Chamber House which usually ignored any reality but their own enclosed brains and now they needed someone to blame with another planet as a destination for the three Admirals seeming ideal as the political blades went in but they still could not manage the ‘Brutus affect’ and settled for three knife blades rather than seven!
The Circle of Stones was supposedly supreme in the Chamber according to the rules, whenever they were ever followed and no law was supposed to exist without the Ruling families standing within the confines of the stones with everyone else standing out of range but this day Jashine de Glop, Marchant de Wonder, Glosia de Geld and Minous de Bolt were stood alongside Wisc de Storme and Sonia de Bowed within the confines of the Circle of Stones, indicating that power had moved … yes, the misguided Political killings of the Droga, Matira and Jamesson families had, had some effect as they blew up people leaving the Chamber House and claimed it was a political mistake and not their fault that meetings had finished early.
The pictures on the roof were popular with viewers and with split-second updates they became so popular that the commentators became more famous than the Politicians and that created more trouble. Their egos as the failures and losses were often shown as well led to more blood spilt as other families tried to take advantage in the house and blood piped out of the Chamber meant the troughs often running full by the feet of members reminded them to vote according to their conscience or their lives; often on cutting edge voting.
It wasn’t a question of the seventh knife in a politician’s back; they were often struggling to get up to three before someone else stabbed them in the back whilst they were still stabbing another politician.
The Droga’s, Matira’s and Jamesson’s sensing the infighting amongst the smaller dwarf families could never conceive the idea of defeat and immediately launched unsanctioned invasions to test the mettle and resolve of the bodies now apparently governing the Chamber. They’d ruled for years and weren’t going to let this happen over-night, nor over-morning, if they could stop it.
If the three families had their way and they did still control Government as a policy of War then the wars would continue as their lives and wealth were entrenched in war and they felt the Elves as the extreme bureaucratic Uncivil Service would follow their rules as they had the Elves elements twisted more than usually in their favour but one of the problems with dwarfs who feel they control by right is that they forget who controls the Elves who’d served for so long and the Elves were also considering who they controlled.
It wasn’t just their feeling that an obligation had become servitude; they felt exploited and forced into a Bureaucratic Government service due to some long-term obligation that no-one could remember and now were holding their own meetings without blood-letting. Whilst they could kill by force they often felt that boredom could achieve the same results in a meeting, especially if they controlled the Agenda and the Minutes but with the Circle of Stones they were powerless; there the Politicians ruled for the limited time they possessed.
Now they faced the Admirals’ images, “Why have you ignored our summons to be here in person and face this Chamber?”
James Droga immediately replied, “You have no power over us. We rule more worlds than you can dream of. We rule and we just allow you to exist!”
The Chamber jeered, “Get those prisoners onto another planet and not ours!”
James Droga took his time as he stared around him and eventually spoke, “What do you rabble want?”
Glosia de Geld replied, holding up the ‘Circlueta of Power’, “By this token I am elected for this session of the Chamber. You will respect the Circlueta or die.”
“You cannot touch us. We rule, and the Gate will protect us.” said Martan Matira.
“You rule no longer. You have killed and virtually destroyed Dwarvia, Martan Matira. Your images will leave here and your bodies will stay within the confines of the Red Stone Gate until you and your families are sent into space. As you like prisoners so much, sixty thousand of them will accompany you in three ships to the outermost ends of space – you not will return, no matter what you believe. We accept the restrictions of the Red Stone Gate. You will not be harmed.”
“Who are you to say this. You have no authority. We are the Ruling Families!”
“The ‘Circlueta of Power’ gives me that power!”
“I am an image you cannot kill me!”
“You are images, not dwarfs in this chamber but you have killed enough. I am Geld Du Storme and this is Neville De Bowed and by the rights of the Ruling Council – sick of your killing – you will be held in custody until transported – it will take some forty years but you will not be aware of that as you will be put into Stasis until you have travelled at least 20 light years from Dwarvia,” he looked at the roof of the Chamber House as he spoke.
“You cannot hurt us.”
“Yes, you are correct Admiral Droga but for your lack of respect to this Chamber, to sentenced is to be, not only transported but banished – you will be executed should anyone from Dwarvia ever see you. Your bodies will be removed from the cubicles in the the Stone Chamber; frozen, and you and your fellow Admirals will freeze until you are loaded into Stasis. At some point you may learn but it will be one hundred light years from Dwarvia and your immediate families will also be frozen and transported to the ship in Stasis – you will be re-united with your wives and families … it is the least we could do, despite your lack of respect for this Chamber.”.
As their images disappeared they found themselves briefly upright but once again in the Red Stone Gate chamber with the lights once again sparkling as they stood, “you have broken your oath, Gate,” shouted James Droga.
“You live, Droga. My oath was to protect your life. I have accomplished that. Many want you dead, now you will live, even if it is on another planet. You deserve worse, do not push the little good. favour you still have,” the colours on the now began to spin and the Admirals seemed to spin as well as they were laid down on the floor and slept.