I’m thinking about two worlds and a simple book is now, no longer simple.
I’m not thinking of Dwarvia but Astoria.
I haven’t developed the ideas to any degree even though I’ve written two inches of ideas taking the story beyond the initial plots.
The Admirals who decided they are Kings but they were never the plot.
Dwarvia took over a bad planet and dumped people.
In the US and the UK they go into Politics.
In Dwarvia they have blood letting; in Astoria they think they are on holiday apart from the chains on their feet and Slavery.
Stefen still remembered Alisia Smith – it was before he was forced to wake up Griselda.
He remembered her gentle walk; the way she moved; her soft hair that she spent so much time brushing every day, and she’d never let anyone else touch her hair; shining in the sunlight when the effects of the bombs had gone and sunlight now penetrated the haze.
Stefen still remembered the day she died; he didn’t realised how deadly Griselda was but Dusti was on her way to Jacque and Maria – eventually – the path would be Spragend then Uguar and Toshon to join with Rona – only now Rona had taken off with the Rocs and Dusti with the Hawks but she would come back.
Alisia was his love, his mistress and someone he should have protected against the liars, smarms and con-artists that offered everything and delivered nothing but by the time he found her dead in his bed it was too late. He arranged for the daughter as they called Dusti who always ended up covered in various things to be taken to Spragen. Steven thought she would be safe and then Nata pushed her towards the wall as the killers called – just crossbow bolts that sprang out from the framework of her room and into her attackers. You don’t attack a sex-shop, twice.
Dusti by next morning was on her way to Uguar and a few others were dead … Grisalda’s people were dying but that would never stop her.
Uguar was a little more sophisticated as they poisoned the food and Dusti did had stomach trouble that didn’t ease until she arrived in Toshon and Jacque and Maria Hawk who lived by the sea.
Jacque and Maria Hawk lived as they chose or survived. They down on the western side, between the western end of the Toshonian coast, where the last magic had broken the countries apart.
Frania was some ten mile away. The castle with all its exploding qualities had imploded.
Drufus would extract a revenge that buried a lot of things but not himself, but we deal with now, and now was something that Dusti, Jacque and Maria left, but they were old folk who Stefen often promised to kill.
Somehow the old folk survived. Who the old folk were, or what they were, was something Stefen had never understood but he took their potions when Grisalda was too close.
They took Dusti into their beach-hut as their own and they tried to see if she could fly.
Jacque and Maria were ‘old folk’ it didn’t matter to them who folk were as they lived away from any folk and helped when they could but King Stefen left them alone whilst Grisalda hunted them down and Stefen via Weena then hunted them. It might not have been apparent but the axe swung low for a lot of Grisalda’s cohorts and Guards.
Yes, her Guards did find Dusti and two went down with thrown daggers whilst the third, to his displeasure received a boot and a dagger protruding from it to give him a new career but not one he would have desired or chosen.
The main problem was Drufus who blamed the King, Weena, his father and Dusti for the death of Roseen and vowed revenge against them and the world that allowed them to exist.
He retreated even more into himself and the magic scrolls that he would make change the world and he didn’t care how.
Drye – still eyed people as prey he could run down and he also could bring down a horse at a run. His eyes were bloodshot with a yellow cast. He moved as and like a wolf but relaxed curled up like a dog if nothing was happening.
Drye was human at times, or as much that he felt like it … he felt … life could trouble him and he could trouble life … he could handled it but Dusti often ignored and looked askance at his interference. Nothing physical past between them, or nothing they would admit to; just a look was enough and Dusti didn’t trust anyone but then Drye wasn’t just anyone.
Drye’s village existed. The mountains protecting it to the south but to the west the sea just swept in.
It was ever more than a floating wreck than anything with the waves hitting the boundaries of Matira and Frania and to the point also hitting them as the waters swept in over the low land.
The wind often changed allegiances before dawn and most huts were now on long legs and they slept in hammocks with netting the crabs could climb into.
Maybe when the water had finally finished destroying everything they treasured, those who still floated would exist.
Drye tried to speak at Council Meetings; usually after he’d had landed back as the sea ebbed and the Elders considered they had secured something to eat but Drye was shouted down.
He stood as tall as he could as a young adult trying to address his elders. Eventually he just looked into the fire and saw an image of ancients arguing old political battles and he saw death of the village.
Drye looked at the broken rocks and broken rules that surrounded them and finally said, “I leave this village and you old men – there is no future with you.”
His mother rose; “Please forgive my son, he forgets himself.”
“No. I don’t forget myself, mother. You do not allow me to forget anything.”
“I am your Mother! I am your Mother! I have tried to bring you to adulthood and to understand how to behave, yet you refuse to accept my authority,” turning to the old men, she continued, “as he refuses to accept your authority. I am done with Drye. My son is no longer my son. He should be banished and driven from our lives. I can not longer speak for my son. He has betrayed everything we believe in. He is no longer fit to be my son or to be in this village – drive him out, now!”
Stones started to hit Drye before he could move and then running he turned to the gap to the south, finding the hidden path up a rocky climb as he fell and staggered up again.
There were rocks to the south, often patrolled by wolves who now approached the prone boy snarling at the children who pursued him and the children of the village ran leaving Drye lying there as a wolf sniffed him and licked the blood from him – his arms, his hands, his head. Other wolves moved in until she snarled at them and continued to lick his wounds.
The Alpha Male knew better than to interfere when females treated young. He felt humans were dangerous to wolves and they would be hunted for tonight’s work but would he challenge three females wolves from caring for something they took as their own?
Not if he wished to remain Alpha Male and there were enough to challenge him if he made a mistake.
Drye found he easily adjusted to the wolves’ lifeforms and he began to hunt with them. He also started to understand them but his legs now built up strength; he could feel his teeth almost lengthening as he hunted and shared his prey but his fights with the Alpha Male were becoming more frequent.
His leggings were now reduced to the middle of his body and he often went bare-chested and that was how he met Dusti as he was drawn towards Jacque and Mari that day after a vicious battle that left him scarred yet his feelings to the pack were that he was wrong and once again he left his home or what he’d felt was becoming a home as an outcast.
Drye and Dusti eventually became almost kindred spirits. Dusti the daughter of a concubine/King – Alisia Smith but Stefen then took Natomi as his second Queen leaving Alisia to be hunted by Grisalda and both were protected in the end by ignorance – but that is another story and Alisia became Grisalda’s next target as if she needed one.
Jacque and Mari was Dusti’s third or fourth home – and yet another story she forgot as she moved but with Jacque and Mari she found the hawks or did the hawks find her but at last the fear left her.
Drye also made his way towards Jacque and Mari’s huts as hawks rose in the sky.
The remains of a road ran east of the huts leaving the road to Jacque and Mari meaning you passed through a crop of trees and then another hundred yards to bring you to the beach house.
Drye stayed to the south as he approached. He could see a boat on the beach and he felt at home again.
Boats were his life before wolves became his parents as his parents attacked him.
Jacque and Mari were old folk and usually left alone, even by Stefen. They lived away from people in two linked huts elevated above the sea levels but still standing together with hammocks swinging inside – they didn’t seek a lot but they gave to those who approached them. Alongside each hut was a fish catchment container that when tides were high became flooded and sometimes, even with fish.
Slightly higher than the usual tide level was a ramp and a boat on a long line that dropped to the sand as the tide swept out.
They lived with the tides and peace of mind, and within that they took anything or anyone who needed help.
Dusti could understand their alarm.
Roseen told Drufus the Matira’s would control him and Drufus looked in the black water as he watched his love die quickly.
His magic expanded as it matched his emotions and he watched the spirals move until they climbed from the bowl and spread and he saw Dusti and Drye arguing as they moved away.
He would face them in time and with all of his magic. All of them would pay for Roseen’s loss. They wouldn’t just die but be buried within the cosmos.