#amwriting #amwritingfantasy bear in mind still working on idea

A lot I can say but not really. Still trying to clean up and take things from skeleton ideas to actual words.

dave

There are times to choose to greet a wife but Martan would never, ever of his own free will, choose to meet Griselda as a wife nor had he ever been interested in her ever leaving a Stasis chamber alive – he would, had he been given the chance. have smashed the lid and let her sink; Sheba Roc stopped him – something she might regret as magic might not be part of Griselda Matira’s make-up but it was certainly latent in her; something that could not be said for her violence which was never latent … being a husband of Griselda Matira usually meant a brief greeting as you escaped with your life after her idea of a honeymoon as she then ruled … Stefen in Toshon had spoken via Liand Roc to Sheba Roc who allowed him to see Martan’s visions of Griselda on a wedding night and Stefen wasn’t eating that often but he didn’t eat afterwards for some time.

Advertisements
Posted in Adventure, Authors, Book, Books, cirencester, computers, Cotswolds, Fantasy, Fiction Writing, Literary Agents, novels, Planning Writing, Publishers, Science Fiction, Thriller, Writing, Writing Novels, Writing Research

#amwriting #amwritingfantasy I’m changing the flow and a few other things

When I started to rethink the middle section of the story and I haven’t stopped yet, I decided to change a few things that will change things I have already written and now I am re-thinking and at the moment am caught between Martan and Stefen Matira and who has the women.

Griselda is married to Martan but the mistresses were originally Stefen’s. Natomi was originally Martan’s 2nd wife after Griselda left him having failed to kill Natomi – it is a little tricky given that I wrote large chunks of the story before I lost the two disks … it screwed everything as I then started to rewrite Astoria from the beginning.

Not complete or thought out, just sketched and even the thoughts don’t flow consistently but I thought it might be of interest.

Dave

The Admirals in their arrogance felt they’d taken over and that was that. They would rule and everyone else would obey and with the shackled prisoners whom they thought only they could release to bondage linked to their own personal key would provide the labour.
The reality was the bombs had triggered so much upheaval that the Admirals had redesigned Destraight from one connected landmass to a series of various shaped islands.
Altogether they have dropped twenty five nuclear bombs – five of them dirty. Water now reigned supreme. Destraight at a surface level now was a series of islands – some big, some small and some nowhere at all after the bombs hit. Gone was the landmass and a lot of people – gone completely.
Luckily the sweeping seas hadn’t only taken people but the radiation as well however fish were definitely off all menus … who wants to capture brightly flashing fish that might complain if you eat them. Some green areas had risen from the sea and stayed above sea-level; a stretch of water from Peter Jamesson’s castle to virtually the causeway with Matira also stayed firmly in place.
A further problem was that none of the Admirals possessed their keys and they’d locked them into Stasis immediately so they couldn’t find the previous Admiral’s keys.
Despite their threats they’d put their relatives into Stasis chambers to join the family. They didn’t consider their relatives to be of use but forced to look after them under Dwarvish custom that required honouring them and so they put them in cabinets for everyone’s honour and to avoid family gatherings.

Over the next few years the floods eventually receded although the western prisoners were destroyed by Sir Percival de Bowed’s dirty bombs which also destroyed a major part of the west coast. So much in face that Sir Percival’s castle was now ten mile further to west with sea between it and the rest of what had been considered Destraight.
The land-quakes generated by the bombs had seen to that … two dirty bombs bracketing your castle to the east was enough for the land to push to the west but the causeway- further south – remained and, if anything, seemed to be wider – it was now ten miles wide until it narrowed as you approached Matira and then became Matira properly.

At its Toshonian end it was escorted to the south by a mountain range – an area now inhabited by Wolfen, Rock Trolls and Roc birds and not an area for the faint-hearted or anyone with blood still pumping in their veins.
Stefen Matira, who’d bombed Martan Matira had abandoned the castle and town he bombed, moving over the causeway to slowly built a new castle in Toshon – his bombing of the Matira castle and town had left nothing but his own stupidity. His new castle was fairly elaborate and he used the new prisoners to build it – it was unlike the computer glitched buildings from the first planet landing and it possessed more than a habitable floor and its castle walls went for ever in every direction as he dreamed and expected the starving and homeless to consider him a God as he shelled out pennies and took the rest. He did however use his slave labour to build homes.
His castle was supervised by the Hounds and his Guards and needed to be; his greed was making him more and more enemies. Stefen’s castle now nestled with the rocks stretching from the south-west to the south-east for as far as the eye could but with the salt lake, there was still only a single waggon path to Matira across the far end of the causeway which made it impassable as no-one on it could give way to someone else without their waggon going into the sea. They’d named the east side Matira and the west side Toshonia.

The only other route to anywhere from Matira was in reality to the waters in front of the Lodge with Peter Jamesson’s castle across the other side. You needed a ferry north to the Lodge and you could then walk to reach his lands as the waters to the north had receded to the east.

The Lodge was now accessible to the degree that it was inhabited by four thousand prisoners and a thriving town was building up again around the Lodge as other prisoners flocked to it but a dirty bomb had landed some fifteen miles to the east and water had swept in and covered the site leaving the Lodge’s only routes to the north and to Peter Jamesson who’d removed David Jamesson however it also left a lot of bodies that floated in the sea and brought in mud and sludged and buried most of the town – it was still being cleared and it was the only town being cleared.

Peter Jamesson’s land was now stretching from the east until it found Argus du Storme’s castle in the west. It would have stretched down to even south-west had Stefen Matira now moved his prisoners and started to build fortifications.
Peter Jamesson called his territory Ascania whilst Marcel Droga who’d removed Marcel Droga spent most of his time trying to hang onto his undefinable properties to the north-east and the only names he thought of are those usually paraphrased using the 2nd level of the keyboard as he considered the flooding and raised mountains that wiped out most of his proposed land-grab from the other Admirals.

As work progressed with the prisoners the Admirals noticed that there were less and less prisoners and the prisoners now started to put significant ‘P’ – almost taking it – in front of the term ‘prisoners’, calling themselves ‘Prisoners’ – almost as a badge of honour but there were less and less each day.

They were still noticing things when three Rocs picked them up and they like the previous Admirals needed some laundry undertaken.
Even their socks were full as they Rocs carried them off to the north of the Lodge where the same Roc Court now sat again and like their fellow Admirals, three of them now found a Roc in their heads.
Sheria Roc now spoke to compose the court, “ … these Admirals have destroyed our families, friends and our allies. Our Courts work on justice and their true intentions. Hohan Roc, Mishan Roc and Liand Roc have now bonded with them so we may hear their thoughts and not their words. This Court is in session and to lie is death.”
Sheria Roc, said the Matron Roc, “You fail to mention the wanton destruction without meaning of these dwarfs. They killed without thought or care, allies and other beings … most Rocs would demand instant death for even one of their crimes.”
“I do not forget Matron, but we kill them them, then others will rise and kill us. We are, courtesy of these Admirals a declining race and we must live with what we have. I do not defend them nor ask for mercy for them. I am empowered by this court to find justice for the Roc nation.”
“I think you presume too much, Sheria Roc. This court will decide and so will I. We have large debts to be repaid and these Admirals will repay them.”
“I would remind you, Matron Roc that we have three Rocs were now senseless because of these arrivals. When they put their relatives to sleep they also put. Sheba Roc, bonded to Martan Matira; Tona Roc, bonded to James Droga and Alexa Roc bonded to David Jamesson into a mindless state. None of them had any warning to unable them to unbond!”
“I do not need you, Sheria Roc to tell me of the sins of these Admirals. This Court is in session and it will judge the Guilty!”
Marcel Droga, Stefen Matira and Peter Jamesson now found themselves with their minds wide open, whether they wanted it or not.
They had bombed, destroyed and did not care who they killed.
They considered themselves above the law but there is always a higher law and now they faced everything of their minds made public.
The Admirals now heard voices in their heads, “We find you guilty of wanton killing; guilty of destroying our lives. You are Guilty of everything charged. Your sentence is death. Your bonded Rocs will take you up; unbond from you and then release you to your just deserts. Do you have any thoughts in mitigation?”
“We own this planet!” Shouted Marcel Droga, “… we gave this planet life!”
“In fact, Marcel Droga, you killed people because you didn’t care. You killed because you did not consider the prisoners to be dwarfs. You killed out of arrogance. You gave nothing but death and a feeling that you could and would control. You and your Admirals do not control. We; Rocs, know how to live with others … I think you; Admirals, do not know how to live with anyone,” those are my the thoughts said Matron Roc, “I ask for a final verdict and judgement from the Roc Court.”
“The verdict is death,” was the call from the Roc Court.
Sheria Roc now mind-melded with the Matron Roc, “We need their minds … we can take revenge later … I feel we can control and use them but I wish I knew how. They are sentenced; if you allow it, to death but we need to re-seed our people and killing the Admirals will not rebirth our people. I ask that you grant clemency with bonding to further our people’s recovery.”
“The verdict of this court is death, Sheria Roc. Three of the Roc family are now unconscious and dying … they have been sentenced to death!”
“Would you sentence Tona Roc, Alexa Roc and Sheba Roc to death to atone for these Admirals. Make them release James Droga, David Jamesson and Martan Matira from those Stasis chambers; we can execute this court’s decision at anytime.”
The Matron now spoke to the Court, “Your decision was final. Do you allow for suspension of sentence?”
There was nothing for a long time and for the Admirals, just another bowel clearing exercise before the Court thought through its decision and decided, “The decision of death can be set aside by you, Matron and only by you. These people will respect the Roc nation. They will release the Admirals they displaced, who learnt to live with others. Yes the bonds with all Admirals may stay and we will as Rocs find the remaining Trons and Minuets. The Wolfen, Humoids, Rock Trolls and these dwarfs should know that the Elves are already here and their hatred of the dwarf nation is more than we as a court can judge but they need to make their peace with the Elves as well as with anyone else and we do not feel that is possible although to free our brethren is something we seek to achieve.”

Reality for the Admirals followed a plunge into the sea as the Rocs picked them up and then to give them an awareness, dropped them from twenty feet into the sea lakes near Perter Jamesson’s castle.
As the cleaner Admirals struggled to the surface they were picked up again and left hanging from Roc claws that flew in different directions … Rocs don’t forget and in this case, nor would Admirals as the Rocs broadcast their thoughts to the world.
The Admirals now knew their plans weren’t plans anymore but dried out laundry. They couldn’t even tell themselves they had won as everyone knew they had lost and they also found their thoughts shared between themselves. This shocked them more than anything as imbred into every dwarf was the need to hide your thoughts for preservation.
The reconciliation board they called it and when it met, comprised the three Trons who represented the prisoners, and the three Admirals with Percival de Bowed and Argus du Storme excluded. There were six Minuets taking notes for both sides with the Tron leaders also acting as telepathic links between the Admirals which frightened them to a degree as the Trons didn’t edit the true thoughts of the Admirals before they past them on but it worked in a fashion as three groups monitored what was transmitted.
Honesty, when all the subtle games you thought to play are made public and documented by the Minuets makes everyone laugh at you and you don’t like to be laughed at but life moved on and so did the Prisoners – a now generic term for people on Destraight who built their own kinds of life and worked to build their own dreams above, in, and under the surface of Destraight.
The Admirals faced reality; an experience in blasting people to smithereens; wiping out their planets and then governing was not going to happen. They had no idea on controlling countries, they usually just destroyed them and they were now bonded to Rocs who watched their every thought but were also available to transport them.

Between the three Admirals and the Prisoners an agreement was made. Martan Matira, David Jameson and James Droga moved to the Lodge which still faced being partially surrounded by water on three sides was fairly secure. Only the north side was free of water and it had evolved into a small town with some buildings slowly evolving in height capacity and the Lodge was self-governing. Trees, fresh water, vegetation surrounded it and the seas cut if off from most attackers.
The Rocs had taken refuge in some rocks to the north but often made their presence known. Elsewhere the Rocs, Trons, Wolfen and some large Cats were gathering around centres but conflict was beckoning on all species.
Sir Percival de Bowed would never find anyone gathering around his centre and Argus du Storme in his castle was now buried completely. The computer glitches had created it underground but the bombs had ensured it was completely underground. It would not be rising soon.

With the waters receding most of the causeway to all intents and purposes had ceased to exist. There was still a five mile long gap of about half a mile wide that led from Toshon to Matira but on the south side of what had been the causeway rock was stretching for some ten miles to the south.
Stefen Matira’s castle was on the north edge of the rock but the old prisoner’s camp, some ten miles to the north-west was still under water with Stasis cabinets floating to the surface; some cracked and flooded with water, others with movement inside but no water and the tides were lodging them on the beach to the east of the old prisoner’s camp.
The nuclear debris had been washed away but fishing was not encouraged in case the fish started arguing after the radiation.
The chambers were piling up and those full of water were pushed back into the sea for an easy burial. Some however had opened and dwarfs were now moving about on the beach and recognising each other although the expressions on their faces told a different story.
Machael Jamesson and his wife – Amanda had been found; so had Basil Droga and also Griselda Matira.
Gereft – one of the few Guards that Stefen trusted was in charge of the Guards who found them on the beach and made a point of helping Griselda Matira … as if he felt that Griselda needed help?
Stefen had always liked the quirky layout of Martan’s castle in Matira and followed the design for the castle in Toshon. His own bedroom was to the west of the castle whilst the rest of the bedrooms were to south-west. His bedroom had secret ways in every way and escape played a major part in his thinking.
Being bound to a Roc was not a safeguard as others weren’t bound and the Roc usually preferred the company of the other Rocs in the mountains to the south and the touch on his mind was often like a feather in its embrace.
Outside of the castle areas were starting to build up but not in the way he ever intended. He’d kept an area directly outside of the castle as a plaza and that was to the east of the main castle entrance. To the west were a nest of houses cum hovels cum anything that you could think of. Beyond that to the north was an area now called ‘Mech Town’ and opposite that was an area they called ‘Shady Town’, which he would have demolished in due course but it catered to those needs that he preferred to ignore.
His main problem he felt, before they found Griselda was Priests were moving in and he still didn’t know where they came from. Stefen felt that belief should be in him, not some imaginary Gods.
To add to his problems, three of other chambers contained Alisia, Natomi and Donina. Alisia had been his favourite mistress until his family forced him to betroth Natomi, force Alisia away and he had then turned to Donina for comfort … which he felt had been supplied. Alisia, faced by a new wife and a new mistress had moved far away … Stefen’s thoughts now, were who put all three into Stasis – he certainly didn’t, so who had.

Stefen faced with Griselda, two mistresses and a betrothed wife asked Liand Roc whether she could speak to Sheba Roc and offered Martan the castle in Matira if he would take Griselda off his hands and rebuild the castle.
It took some time for Martan to respond. If he accepted he would get back the lands he’d lost but he would also get Griselda and that was something he didn’t want but it meant the Stefen would control Toshon and he would control Matira and that seemed a good idea as the floods had receded and the castle was free, even if it only had one floor.
Stefen felt this would leave him with a potential wife who he decided could also join Martan and his first mistress could also be sent on her way, leaving him with Donina and Martan with Griselda, Alisia and Natomi … it seemed a fair exchange and he included Basil Droga as a make-weight plus Gereft as a Guard for the party – it should keep everyone happy but mainly him.
Martan was happy to leave the Lodge. Most of the time it felt like a prison and the castle at least gave him some independence although without Guard or a town there was really nothing until as he and Sheba Roc came into land and he found the Prisoners who survived the latest Admiral attacks had now built around the castle and with Sheba Roc he was able to speak to Tolan Tron and Yogush Tron who’d survived the floods and the havoc but when you are seven foot high, five foot long and two foot wide you can make your point occasionally and the Trons did.

The point was however things were changing, the Stasis cabinets should have remained as unchanged as did the thoughts of the Admirals on awakening their relatives.
The Admirals liked a good ‘Wake’ as much as anyone especially for unwanted relatives and these relatives should have stayed buried in the chambers but Sir Percival de Bowed’s dirty bombs aimed at the Toshon prisoners and Stasis chambers not only fractured the units but the waters moving in washed them and floated them.
The Matira’s main worry was Griselda. Griselda was not someone Martan had wished to wake up and he was now safely ensconced in the Lodge, Griselda was a death wish on two and more usually, you saw four legs as she savaged her way through any man who took her fancy and usually killed anyone and basically anything that crossed her path. She slept with anyone who would further her career which was killing and killed those who didn’t shape up.
Martan Matira who’d been the most vocal on her remaining in Stasis and when he heard she was alive he made a request to the bonded Roc … please don’t let her find me!
Stasis was meant to mean ‘complete when they were built … they were never meant to meet their full use in locking your relatives up but the cabinets were virtually indestructible.
The wish of Martan Matira however was that her Stasis cabinet should have sunk or been fractured as the waters came in but hers still existed although swimming in the swell and she was on land before he ever knew.
The only other problems with the Stasis chambers were several other relatives appeared. Peter Jamesson’s brother Michael was resurrected with his wife Amanda.

 

Posted in Adventure, Authors, Book, Books, cirencester, Cotswolds, Fantasy, Fiction Writing, Literary Agents, novels, Planning Writing, Publishers, Thriller, Writing, Writing Novels, Writing Research

#amwriting #amwritingfantasy #writerslife – some more stuff

I’ve written et al quite a bit. So much that the last four days – today was a shopping day – seemed to never end.

I’m changing words and ideas, or am I?

Perhaps I never did more than think them in the first place.

I’ll cut what I can.

This is a raw dump of ideas but I can’t spend the time cutting little bits out. The whole thing is a mismatch but under Scrivener a contained mismatch for just after the second Dwarf Admiral’s attack.

This stuff is just an almighty dump.

Enjoy the bits.

Dave

PART ONE

ASTORIA

1

2

3

4

5

 

James Droga, like the other two Admirals was the regulation height for the Space Navy of 4 foot 2 inches with blue eyes and red hair which indicated he was a pure-blood dwarf but unlike the other two possess a fiery personality and believed he could kill his way out of anything.

To James, the others might meet Navy rules for red hair, black eyes and height restrictions of four foot two inches but they lack the blood on their swords and banners that to a Droga meant pride – pride in the people you killed; the planets you crushed and the prisoners you took even if you never left a spaceship officially during a campaign – it was glory to a family to be in a battle and James was always in some battle or other and usually between the families who ruled. Their families might be bound by ancient bonds or so they claimed but James had a few debts to pay and they wouldn’t appear in his black book and he intended to make sure his co-Admirals didn’t have any fingers left to open a black book – they would be red ones when he’d finished.

Martin Matira whilst matching the regulations was often thoughtful and prepared to compromise if forced.

Slowly, in order of precedence the families entered: Droga; Matira; Jamesson; De Storme; De Bowed, with the minor families then filing in behind them with the triumphant Admirals first: James Droga, Martan Matira and David Jamesson.

Behind were the senior members of the Ruling Families: Justine Droga, Vein Matira, Oswald Jamesson, Wisc de Storme and Sonia de Bowed and even further behind were the senior members of the Minor Families with Joshing de Glop, Merchant de Wonder, Gloria de Geld and Minos de Bolt.

Jon Jun watched them file in with the three Admirals taking the central position in front of him was the Senior and Junior families took the right and left tables respectively.

He waited until they finally settled themselves before beginning with the Elves quietly whispering into his brain and he looked directly at the Admirals.

“On the plus side we have conquered innumerable planets and star systems and wealth has been returning to our system. On the negative side the cost of the wars far exceeds any wealth returning to our system; we also have hundred of thousands of prisoners distributed across Dwarvia with rioting, food shortages and over three hundred thousand dead or missing dwarfs which has led the Chamber to consider this is an urgent issue to be sorted out and therefore this meeting has been called.”

James Droga was the first to respond, “we have brought glory to Dwarvia and if they can’t support us they should shut up!”

Martin Matira looked at James Droga and said, “Let’s hear what else they have to say?”

They both then looked at David Jamesson, “Don’t you have anything to say, David?”

“As Martin said, ‘Let’s hear what else they have to say?’”

6

7

8

 

“I’ll face the Chamber any day, Jon Jun. They won’t touch me or they’ll know what a riot is.”

“I’m sure they already do, Admiral Droga … several riots, I think?”

“Do any of the Ruling or Junior families wish to make a comment. All I have heard so far are Admiral Droga and Admiral Matira?”

A long silence replied to Jon Jun, “Then I must make my report accordingly to the Chamber. This meeting is completed. I have to say that you all seemed to have decided to fall on your swords.”

“You’ll get a sword if you don’t pay respect to the Ruling Family,” shouted James Droga.

“Once again, Admiral Droga you fail to pay respect to the ‘Meeting Room’, now I suggest you all leave as you have nothing to add to this meeting,” Jon Jun watched as the families and Admirals filed out. It had been a wasted time but perhaps not entirely wasted. His report would go to the Chamber and whilst the Ruling Family controlled the votes, enough representatives had lost family killed by the Admirals, especially by James Droga and they wanted revenge.

9

10

11

12

 

The Hell-Cat Heli-phroaters – known at Hell-cats for short were named after a famous Admiral, nicknamed the Hell-Cat for his bedroom adventures. They often sounded like a shower of insects as they circled on auto, kicking up dust; raining fuel on the people beneath them as they were poorly maintained but the Admirals weren’t bothered and the Hell-Cats Heli-phroaters often adopted their owners attitudes to organic lifeforms and tended to ignore them when they landed on top of them.

The planes were said to be as honourable as he was, which meant they might be as fickle in their landings as he was and their manoeuvrability was difficult to control at the best of times however their minds were as sharp as his and often the controls did not perform as he desired which possibly was why their brains requested a transfer just before the ship flew into a cliff with him inboard and no-one else.

Hell-Cats hovered well and could land whether handled by good pilots or not but they then immediately went to their Interstellar Lawyers for being mishandled and groped as the Admirals kept their hands on the joysticks for too long. Their minds, blended into the controls for years had the sensations and emotions of the best but they were able to land their own phroaters and objected to the Admiral’s hands on the controls.

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

 

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.

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

 

James Droga didn’t have an integrated castle as such. His castle was five away from his Manor House which was ten miles away from the barracks and all moving east leaving his castle fifteen miles from the barracks.

He also found his starched uniforms becoming pliable in the damp atmosphere … all of which he couldn’t remember in his briefing notes but since the notes had been about the size of his underwear, this was unsurprising and one phrase was sticking in his mind, ‘This side of the planet was stated quite incorrectly, to be stable and unchanging’.

34

35

36

37

38

 

Martin Matira’s thoughts as he looked at the causeway and the prisoners behind him were interrupted, “If I may speak, Admiral?”

“Who are you?”

“Rafus Matira, Admiral – a distant relative.”

“Speak, Rafus, but quickly and briefly.”

“You had me revived for my magic, Admiral. There is a cooling spell in my book. I cannot say how long it will last and for how long along the causeway it may function but I could try and use it.”

“What good it would it do?”

“The causeway is probably fifty miles long, Admiral but if we wait until the seas close in from the north, south and west we could as a last resort use the spells to lower the temperature on the causeway even more – it might work, Admiral? It would buy us time if we just wait.”

“With these rocks getting closer to the planet, Rafus that may be all it buys us but I don’t have a better plan.”

39

 

Martan now watched someone from the prisoners behind him move forward and he was a rangy seven foot shape, “My name is Tolan, and if you don’t know, I am a Tron.” As he spoke his voice possessed a clear timbre and those arms if they swung would deliver more power than woodworm and Martan Matira took a good two steps back.

It took a while before Tron spoke again and for a lot of that time he seemed to be mentally somewhere else but eventually he did finally speak, “We don’t have your style of Government, Admiral. We decide together, what will happen.”

“What have you decided?”

“The seas haven’t reached us yet. The causeway is too hot. You have food and we all need to live – we will wait and we will never be friends but we may be able to suffer each other. Some of our winged friends may extract meat from your herd but at a minimum and they will repay that. The choice is yours, Admiral, not ours. We need you but you surely need us more than we need you.”

“Your summary is correct although I don’t know what food we have to offer you?”

“Humanoid flesh will be fine Admiral,” Tolan looked at Admiral Matira’s face, “I was joking Admiral, I actually eat forest insects which are actually very tasty. I suggest we make camp as best we can – some of us will be monitoring the movement of the seas and I don’t think that Rafus’ spells work!”

If Admiral Matira’s neck had stretched even more he would have looked like a newly born ostrich as he tried to draw himself above his four foot two inches but instead he look like someone who spent too long in the starch laundry.

By now the prisoners were laughing; Guards were raising weapons and Tolan raised his hand, “The countryside is trying to kill us. Do we need to kill each other before it arrives?”

“Once again, Tolan, your words make sense. Let’s wait. We can always kill each other if the sea and land doesn’t?”

“We’ve tried enough times, Admiral Matira. If the clock was turned back and we could defeat your weapons, you would be dead but we all live or die together on this planet now! The planet is already trying to kill us which makes a change from your troops.”

“We need to come to an arrangement, Tolan, we have food and we’ll share it. If we work together we can survive, if we don’t, we’ll all die,” he watched as several of the prisoners nodded and began to speak to others.

Fairly obviously there were some prisoners who still didn’t need nor have the ability for speech.

Martan Matira now watched the prisoners on the west side of the causeway as they had headed north and he decided to set up camp.

40

 

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

53

54

55

56

57

58

59

60

61

62

 

They were still noticing things when three Rocs picked them up and they like the previous Admirals needed some laundry undertaken.

Even their socks were full as they Rocs carried them off to the north of the Lodge where the same Roc Court now sat again and like their fellow Admirals, three of them now found a Roc in their heads.

Sheria Roc now spoke to compose the court, “ … these Admirals have destroyed our families, friends and our allies. Our Courts work on justice and their true intentions. Hohan Roc, Mishan Roc and Liand Roc have now bonded with them so we may hear their thoughts and not their words. This Court is in session and to lie is death.”

Sheria Roc, said the Matron Roc, “You fail to mention the wanton destruction without meaning of these dwarfs. They killed without thought or care, allies and other beings … most Rocs would demand instant death for even one of their crimes.”

“I do not forget Matron, but we kill them them, then others will rise and kill us. We are, courtesy of these Admirals a declining race and we must live with what we have. I do not defend them nor ask for mercy for them. I am empowered by this court to find justice for the Roc nation.”

“I think you presume too much, Sheria Roc. This court will decide and so will I. We have large debts to be repaid and these Admirals will repay them.”

“I would remind you, Matron Roc that we have three Rocs were now senseless because of these arrivals. When they put their relatives to sleep they also put. Sheba Roc, bonded to Martan Matira; Tona Roc, bonded to James Droga and Alexa Roc bonded to David Jamesson into a mindless state. None of them had any warning to unable them to unbond!”

“I do not need you, Sheria Roc to tell me of the sins of these Admirals. This Court is in session and it will judge the Guilty!”

Marcel Droga, Stefen Matira and Peter Jamesson now found themselves with their minds wide open, whether they wanted it or not.

They had bombed, destroyed and did not care who they killed.

They considered themselves above the law but there is always a higher law and now they faced everything of their minds made public.

The Admirals now heard voices in their heads, “We find you guilty of wanton killing; guilty of destroying our lives. You are Guilty of everything charged. Your sentence is death. Your bonded Rocs will take you up; unbond from you and then release you to your just deserts. Do you have any thoughts in mitigation?”

“We own this planet!” Shouted Marcel Droga, “… we gave this planet life!”

“In fact, Marcel Droga, you killed people because you didn’t care. You killed because you did not consider the prisoners to be dwarfs. You killed out of arrogance. You gave nothing but death and a feeling that you could and would control. You and your Admirals do not control. We; Rocs, know how to live with others … I think you; Admirals, do not know how to live with anyone,” those are my the thoughts said Matron Roc, “I ask for a final verdict and judgement from the Roc Court.”

“The verdict is death,” was the call from the Roc Court.

Sheria Roc now mind-melded with the Matron Roc, “We need their minds … we can take revenge later … I feel we can control and use them but I wish I knew how. They are sentenced; if you allow it, to death but we need to re-seed our people and killing the Admirals will not rebirth our people. I ask that you grant clemency with bonding to further our people’s recovery.”

“The verdict of this court is death, Sheria Roc. Three of the Roc family are now unconscious and dying … they have been sentenced to death!”

“Would you sentence Tona Roc, Alexa Roc and Sheba Roc to death to atone for these Admirals. Make them release James Droga, David Jamesson and Martan Matira from those Stasis chambers; we can execute this court’s decision at anytime.”

The Matron now spoke to the Court, “Your decision was final. Do you allow for suspension of sentence?”

There was nothing for a long time and for the Admirals, just another bowel clearing exercise before the Court thought through its decision and decided, “The decision of death can be set aside by you Matron and only by you. These people will respect the Roc nation. They will release the Admirals they displaced, who learnt to live with others. Yes the bonds with all Admirals may stay and we will as Rocs find the remaining Trons and Minuets. The Wolfen, Humoids, Rock Trolls and these dwarfs should know that the Elves are already here and their hatred of the dwarf nation is more than we as a court, can judge but they need to make their peace with the Elves as well as with anyone else and we do not feel that is possible although to free our brethren is something we seek to achieve.”

63

64

65

66

67

68

69

70

71

72

73

74

75

76

77

 

78

79

 

80

81

82

 

83

84

85

86

87

88

89

90

91

92

93

94

95

96

97

98

99

100

101

102

103

104

105

106

107

108

109

110

111

112

113

114

115

116

117

118

119

120

121

122

123

124

125

126

127

128

129

130

131

132

133

134

135

136

137

138

139

140

141

142

143

144

145

146

147

Posted in Adventure, Authors, Book, Books, cirencester, Cotswolds, Dictatorship, Family Control, Fantasy, Fiction Writing, novels, Science Fiction, Space, Thriller, Writing, Writing Novels, Writing Research

#amwriting #amwritingfantasy Hope you like it

Just finished yet another re-write of some words.

I just wrote using Scrivener and put chunks into sections of ideas; writing on some things when the ideas were there and switching as my thinking clarified to finally knowing what I was thinking.

Yes, it is called writing on occasions but often, when you cannot get it right, by a few other names.

The whole thing is that the planet is attacked by a new of set Admirals who, in between fighting each other, take time off to kill everyone on the planet.

Sounds almost like life.

Hope you like the dump.

Dave

Orbiting Dwarvia a further group of manacled prisoners entered the Armada Class Prison ships from the ramps the freighters extended. The prisoners were forced to walk single file within oxygen filled metal canopies. They had tried loading them directly from Dwarvia however the prisoners realised what was happening and rioted again. Now they were manacled and neutralised before being shipped up on a twenty four hour basis usually some hastily converted freighters.
The types of prisoner were standard. The Trons – 7 ft telepathic wooden creatures, considered peaceful by the dwarfs but who still invaded their planets. The Minuets – 6 ft telepaths but with eight spindly legs. The Rocs again were telepaths but only 4 ft high, which did not prevent from carrying men and animals off to a great height. The Wolfen were again telepaths but 3 ft high four legged bunches of often violent fur. The Slurms were the most dangerous in terms of ferocity – they preferred darkness but were Snake-like and almost transparent – they were the most feared and were covered with what seemed like a bag but were treated with extreme care as an escaped Slurm would cause havoc on a ship the size of the Armada Class. The remainder were Humanoids, dwarfs and Rock Trolls who no-one could miss, and very seldom did.
The Armada Class ships were finally loaded and moved off.

Thirty light years away, five Armada Class prisoner ships halted. The crews were waking up the Admirals and the news was not good. The engines that should last the forty light years to reach Destraight had virtually failed, leaving five Armada Class Prison ships with malfunctioning engines and they were only ten light years from Dwarvia meaning if they turned around, it would take forty to four hundred years to return to nothing and the same as they had momentum to reach Destraight as the speed now possessed would give them the inertia to eventually reach Destraight but without the ability to keep increasing the speed.
An emergency meeting of Admirals assembled on the Noctra. Marcel Droga from the Lloap; Stefen Matira from the Mastra; Peter Jamesson from the Noctra; Percival de Bowed from the Speca, and Argus Du Storme from the Mightnare.
“Who did it?” Shouted Marcel Droga, “and to all our ships—”
“Someone fixed these ships before we left – they put degraded parts into our systems and they will degrade more as we travel. In essence, we’re abandoned in space.
” Stefen Matira looked around the table, “who set it up?”
“What does that matter, Stefen. It was done, and done before we left! They made sure we weren’t coming back”
“It matters to me, Peter! Who had the ability to sabotage our ships so we are too far from help but reduced to a crawl and there is no chance to an alternative target and what target are we crawling to, I might ask?”
“Anyone of the Peace Party, Stefen. They don’t want us to make people respect force; they want control and to throw away all we achieved … by this, we are out of the way – they expect to rule with no-one to challenge them.”
“Damn Politicians. We had the ability to blast these traitors on Dwarvia—”
“What would be the point, Stefen? How would we prove they’d tried to destroy us and we don’t have the men to attack Dwarvia itself … they planned this in detail—”
“—we’re fighters not damn politicians. We might as well sleep on it and make our own world to Destraight – we’ll just sleep a little longer. It won’t take much to clear it out the refuse that went before us and we have enough prisoners to start the planet life as we decide. At least this time, we have brought women with us to make sure this world breeds good healthy dwarfs who will produce good, healthy children and we will build our own empires as we choose!”
“We just destroy everyone else?”
“Yes.”
“Then we might as well sleep, Marcel.”
The Admirals returned to their own ships and sleep. The crews put the ships on automatic and settled themselves down. They would either arrive or not and no-one monitored anything as they slept on a journey set for an unknown planet with no arrival time and only a desire to kill from the Admirals anyone who was there but they did this in Stasis and dreamt..
Revenge is often a dish best enjoyed cold but often it changes so much over time although it festers, distorts, and is disjointed as it moves through emotion, vision and belief until it almost becomes a religion in its festering state and those Armada Class prison ships were as silent as the grave but the desire for revenge was never stronger in the Admiral’s dreams.
They slowly moved on with the engines failing by the day and it looked as if four hundred years for the journey was optimistic but everything and everyone was shutdown to save energy.
The shields were still there with some force but it seemed only a matter of time before they began to fracture altogether although with everyone in Stasis and everything reduced to a minimum, the power might last out or they would never know if it didn’t!
The Admirals would sleep on their anger and finally all but the crew for the next five years were in the Stasis chambers.
The crew quarters were as always re-reinforced and space suits were available although what use they would be when the bulkheads gave way was anyone’s thought and the crew weren’t thinking about it.
If they were honest, the only I thing that bothered the crew these days was the boredom. The drugs to take away sexual stimuli had been a standard for long space journeys for a long time after several missions had failed as crew killed each other over romantic peccadilloes. Now is was mandatory and lasted for up to fifty years – no wonder you needed pretty colouring books for a long space journey and in the back of the pretty colouring books were the injections for the antidotes but they were designed to last for only twenty four hours, but they were a lot of sales of pretty colouring books.
The strange thing in a way was that without Admirals – maybe just their weight re-distribution, the ships seemed to have moved faster. It should have taken forty years but had at that point taken them thirty light years to travel ten light years, now they were nearing Destraight after a mere seventy light years. Either the space system had changed; the engines had regained power or the planet was never a hundred light years ago … had the Armada Class ship controls been changed to give false readings and was Destraight a lot closer than described … were they in fact just going around in a circle or was everything they knew being modified, including themselves. The Armada Class ships had never been designed for inter-stellar travel, yet according to the records often travelled for over a hundred light years … was something altering the records so it appeared that they did. There was never enough fuel but always enough. People were recycled from Stasis every five to ten years, so any knowledge to-date was lost unless in the records … did the records get updated every-time the last crew went into Stasis.
They finally, according to the records and systems, approached Destraight and now it was time to wake the Admirals … they hid the picture books in the false bulkhead in the crew’s quarters – a standard fitment on most ships that wanted crew and providing you knew, easily accessible. It was one thing to volunteer for a long space flight but no-one ever volunteered to give up sex.
The Admirals finally staggered out of Stasis and swilled large amounts of Swillavill – a bean based mixture that had so many chemicals in it that only animal oxygenated fat hadn’t been added but the crew just watched them froth at the mouth and like the Admirals, it was revolting to their eyes but one of the new rules after the last crew messages came as they were obliterated was to now move to a designated spacecraft that circled all the Armada Class ships and put itself in orbit … they would find their own destinies.

The latest Admirals stayed in the skies – well out of harm – with their Scout Ships mapping the territories and reporting to the five Admirals who sat in a in a tri-sky conference which like a lot of meetings where the same person takes the notes, even if the are only note-bot, only moves in one direction and this was dominated by the Admirals who weren’t even interested in Government bullying via a democracy. Dictatorship was their preference.
They would build their empires and dominate them, as they had dominated so many other planets and their few relatives were safely sealed up in Stasis – not all were volunteers as the Admirals later admitted to themselves but you looked after your family even when they don’t want you to and putting them away for the future was the best way … they would thank them later if they were ever woken from a deep Stasis sleep and you thought they wouldn’t kill you before you killed them. Control was absolute and the Admirals would rule, in between arguing with each other.
To the Admirals the main topic was where to put the Clean Bombs. They didn’t want their planet messed up; just everyone clean everyone out but as with every plan that is fine in theory, none would work in practice. The old prisoners on the planet weren’t in their correct positions which made the Admirals uneasy; there was water where land should be and a dispersed population interfering with their ideas of clean bombs and a clean slate and everyone dead as they took over. It had taken them a while to decide to use a Clean Bomb as most of the Admirals favoured dirty weapons and coming back at some much later point after they had destroyed the planet; there was no chance of coming back to this planet afterwards so they agreed to change the texture of the bomb casings.
This way, when the thermonuclear explosives detonated, the power would not be contained within the warhead but would move ahead of the warhead and explosive force thus reducing the main force but putting the radiation ahead of the bomb while weakening it so the radiation killed people but left the buildings standing and the Admirals loved this idea as they could immediately move in and it wasn’t Scout Ships scouting Destraight but Attack Ships seeking targets and releasing bombs. Some hit the the Lodge; the west prisoner’s camp; Argus du Storme’s castle but two near misses came down near Sir Percival’s own castle and James Droga’s manor.
The Admirals received reports of their own about their own targets and now realised Sir Percival had not returned from his break but they never paid much attention to him as a member of a lower family and he was now on his way to his castle and one Admiral had targeted it too early but that was the Admirals – always rushing a decision although the Admirals would be facing further surprises in the very near future as they had in most cases bombed their future residences and the people living there, in their plan to clear the deadwood – Sir Percival however had tried to bomb the prisoners camps so they didn’t have any prisoners they could use. They would eventually realise the results of their endeavours as they destroyed a planet with clean and dirty bombs for the sake of domination.
The power on the Armada ships was now dropping to various low levels and the Admirals started to understand they had to move or face disaster as their power and the ship’s ran out and they ran for the tubes with protective suits on and down to the polluted planet they had created as all the ships started loosing power but one Admiral had a very limited lifespan if the other Admirals ever found him and Percival de Bowed already on his way to a castle in the north-west was powered by the Admirals’ wishes whilst they were now on their to the castles they had tried to destroy and the people they had destroyed.

Posted in Adventure, Authors, Book, Books, cirencester, Cotswolds, Dictatorship, Fantasy, Fiction Writing, General Discussion, Literary Agents, Planning Writing, Publishers, Science Fiction, Space, Thriller, Writing, Writing Novels, Writing Research

#amwriting #amwritingfantasy I’ve edited/re-written this stuff

These early morning starts and also my ankle and knee playing up have given me the chance to get some more narrative, structure and thought into what happens after the Admirals, Prisoners, Stasis Chambers and space rocks hit the planet.

I particularly like the idea of the Computers glitching on the buildings so the castles only have one floor; that there are more castles than Admirals and that the Prisoner camps are no-where near the castles which leaves the Admirals like the lady in the tower – too frightened to move although there is certainly some movement from James Droga at the end of this bit.

This section has now grown to 3k and as I always say, is just a dump of ideas, play, structure development and a chance for me to learn about this world I’m creating.

One other point I will make: this is just raw writing with very basic spell checking. When I finally finish the book it will go through full structural and spell checking plus another full edit although I now have no idea when I will ever finish, which is one I post these dumps so people know how it is progressing but it is still at, and will be for a while, first draft status.

Dave

Is there life after rocks landing. A question that was troubling virtually everyone and there were now 24 hour shifts amongst the prisoners still to be released as the key was moved from Prisoner to Prisoner – the prisoners had renamed themselves ‘Prisoners’ after the Admirals tried to use the term to control them.
What seemed to have happened was that the rising of the lands to the east of Martan Matira, had in fact stopped the seas from the east and the south moving further inland. The causeway from his castle still existed but currently his castle was encircled by water.
Martan was also surrounded by water and living on a strip of land that measured twenty miles at its widest and seventy narrowing miles at its best width. The Lodge to his north was surrounded by five miles of water.
He wasn’t, to be polite, going anywhere and nor was anyone else but the prisoners were becoming free and he now had another issue to deal with. He was in the open with very few Guards; his food dependent on the prisoners, and living in a tent. The floods had cooled the western section of the causeway down and that now stretched for some fifty miles long by ten wide, but what, he thought, can you do with five hundred square mile of rock with the rest of the land under sea water however the seas was shrinking to the east and scouts had now informed him that a hundred square mile of earth had stayed above sea level in the east but his castle was still by water with the only way in and out via another causeway although this one now joined land within a mile of leaving the castle and he now made plans to return to the castle.
At least with all the water they could fish as the seas still surrounded the Lodge and swept on to the west coast and well up to the north however James Droga couldn’t invade in any way shape or form and neither could David Jamesson and he was happy with that. There was no trust between the Admirals or their families except to maintain the families as rulers of Dwarvia and even that had now failed.
The only other issue bothering him now was should he revive his wife – Griselda from Stasis – it had never been a difficult decision to use the banishment as an excuse to incarcerate her and he was loathed to change the situation. It had never been a marriage of love and after her use of the marriage knife on their first night together it had become a marriage of survival … Griselda could wait he thought and he needed to shut Rafus Matira up who was blasting his eardrums to oblivion with his talk of his magical prowess … he was worse than Griselda at times and that wasn’t easy, by any means.
What did surprise Martan was that the Trons despite being wooden insect eaters were the de facto leaders of the prisoners, who now called themselves ‘Prisoners’ and Tolan and Yogush represented them aided by Tron survivors from the western Prisoners – of which few survived however certain types of Prisoner were able to outlast the floods.
The Wolfen managed to stay afloat by doggies paddle; the Trons were wooden and floated; the Rock Trolls didn’t have lungs and just walked, often in and through anything in their way; the Rocs were bedraggled when they arrived but they floated using their wings and the Slurms mingled with the waters – the Prisoners who died were dwarfs, Humanoids, and the Minuets who were virtually insects. The animals who drowned were picked up by the freed Rocs and dumped onto the ground to the east to be cooked.
Meat was definitely on the menu, and everyone ate well for a change but it took all the Tron’s mental abilities to stop the Prisoners seeking revenge on Martan Matira who they would happily have carved up and enjoyed doing so but in the end Martan Matira was the only dwarf who now moved amongst them and he often went down to the cooling causeway to look at what might have been his land.
The Trons and Rock Trolls were usually already there and the Rocs – those freed and still able to fly – circled in the air looking for survivors and those floating carcases – now were really salted – so the Rocs moved swiftly but unfortunately like Wolfen, once they had landed the meat they ate first and to describe the meat afterwards would predominately use the term butchered however some meat once they had their fill was deposited in a heap and once again their were in-depth discussions with the Wolfen as to etiquette as they piled in to butcher the meat further. If you wanted a tender bit of rump you were fine but all the good pieces like a butcher’s stall on Friday closing were gone already.
Martan had his Guards surreptitiously herd the live stock towards his castle; leaving the Prisoners to the dead salted meat which didn’t really bother the Trons, Rock Trolls or those Minuets that had survived but it was already causing trouble with free Humanoids and dwarf Prisoners and this led to further conversations with the Trons which Martan had tried to avoid concerning the livestock.
The Minuets like the Trons were telepathic. Whilst they were six foot high they had eight spindly legs and not a long life. The Trons were telepathic as well but of wood. They were about two foot in width and from the base of the necks to their rear, another five foot long. With their legs however they were seven foot in height and wood base insect eaters … only the dwarf Admirals could ever consider them to be enemies – to the Admirals, Tronia was just another target and nothing more as they made war after to war to ensure their families ruled on Dwarvia but now Martan realised that the Trons, Minuets and Wolfen communicated telepathically and then spoke to the others so everything he said was know to all immediately or very soon afterwards and the last a Politician wants is for someone to know what games he is playing.
Already his Guards were being intercepted and the livestock turned around by Rocs and Wolfen who were expert at panicking animals and to a fair degree, the Guards as well. The Guards ran almost as fast as the livestock when the Wolfen and Rocs swiftly moved in and they seemed to have the same degree of intelligence.
Martan Matira finally turned to find himself more intelligence in Tolan than he had ever expected, “You never learn, you dwarfs? You still think you can do what you want and no-one has the intelligence or ability to stop you. Even when you are cut off from most of your ill-gotten gains and out-numbered, you think you can win. We offered you co-operation and you could only think of theft. You do just steal cattle, you steal dignity, life and you cheat because you consider everyone to be below you. Some cattle will be left to you but if you not in your castle by dawn tomorrow, you will be hunted as you’ve hunted others.”
Martan Matira looked into the Tron’s face and tried to out-stare him, to no avail.
“All Prisoners know of choices and you have thirty miles to your castle before dawn tomorrow. I suggest you leave now.”
“I will walk down to the causeway before I leave but you will regret this!”
“I doubt that, very much, Martan Matira. The only regret was trusting you in the first place and that has now been remedied.”
Martan walked down to the causeway and surprisingly, to Martan Matira some Stasis cabinets had survived. The waters, tides and rocks had cracked them but some floated and he and the Guards still with him pulled them onto the rocks.
Several of them, to Martan’s surprise were James Droga’s relatives and they were still alive. Basil Droga was one, but also, somehow so was Sir Wilfred de Bowed and Sir Francis U Storme. What they were doing in Stasis was obviously a matter for another time but it looked very much like a revenge attack by James Droga’s family again the de Bowed and Du Storme families for turning against the Droga’s in the Chamber and they had obviously been picked up off the streets, drugged and put into Stasis cabinets but it made you wonder why Basil Droga was there, who was a non-political dwarf under any circumstances and avoided trouble at all costs, still, as his Guards helped them out of the Cabinets it was time to make his way back to his castle with his Guards pulling them behind on hastily created travois and then a Roc picked him up and flew while she spoke to him in his mind although his rear end was speaking in other ways as his recently eaten meal started to work its way down and now he heard another voice in his mind, “My name is Sheba and my tribe have appointed me to bond with you. James Droga is already bonded, and David Jamesson will be bonded the next time he leaves his castle.”
“Why?”
“All three of you think to dominate and control. This way we know what you think and so will everyone. We are not Humoids and don’t take over your mind; we distribute your real thoughts but that is probably enough. The Prisoners will decide who governs not three deported Admirals.”
“We cannot go back.”
“No, but you can learn and you will need to learn and every thought you have outside of the castle will be broadcast, so you can make all your plans in the castle you cannot leave without your thoughts known to all. You are trapped in a situation of your own making.”
“We didn’t make this situation.”
“Then who did, Admiral Matira? We are the faces you invaded and destroyed, and then you transported a hundred light years from our worlds, families and life … if you didn’t cause us to be here then who did?”

David Jamesson watched from his castle as a few days later about half of the Prisoners made their way west. Most of them were still shackled but the Wolfen, Trons, Minuets and Rocs moved freely. The Rock Trolls never moved fast anyway so it was difficult at this distance to see whether they were still shackled or not.
James Droga was going to receive a surprise but then again, so had he and when the die is cast there is no point in betting further.
With the raising of the land he now had some two hundred and fifty square miles of land although the sea had swept in and was now some fifteen miles to the south of his castle but then again there were ten thousand Prisoners to dispute this. There was livestock but the other side Prisoners camp to the north and it might as well not exist. There was only his castle there were no other buildings left. The computers were supposed to have around the castles but with the rocks falling from space, the seas sweeping in and the land rising what was there seemed nothing more than wreckage. There was no-one to plant crops, herd livestock or look after his castle and the whole plan of bondsmen was blown out of the window.
He could talk to the Prisoners but the Slurms, Trons, Minuets, Wolfen, Rocs and Rock Trolls most certainly didn’t need housing. There were a fair number of humans and dwarfs and they would need some shelter but he needed to keep the Humoids out … they weren’t particularly choosy in who they took over and he didn’t want them near him.
It was unfair to the Humoids in a way since it was the wars he and his fellow Admirals had created that had deprive the Humoids of willing hosts but the Admirals considered that a fact of life. They had been respected for their work as healers but as they started to take over unwilling bodies they were forced to the outskirts of towns and they were now banned and hunted on Dwarvia, hence their being shipped out to Destraight. They were often called the Old People and to have blue eyes was supposed to be a sign of Humoid takeover which often led dwarfs to dye their eyes to avoid accusations.
Still he thought, and dragged his mind back to the task in hand, there were enough forests and he had shipped some tools down from the Armada so he had something to negotiate with and he made his way from the castle to speak with Magresh.
It still amazed him that all the appointed leaders of the Prisoners were virtually seven foot high telepathic rocking horses but the intelligence and thought were there and he imaged that was why they were trusted. They were slow, thoughtful, careful and communicated widely yet they had the physical and mental strength and whilst the hands protruding from their five foot long bodies looked thin he felt there was more strength in those hands and arms than he wanted to know but as he left the castle Magresh trotted out of a nearby forest as if he was expecting him.
They eventually met and the timbre tones of Magresh greeted David Jamesson, “I assume you want me, Admiral Jamesson?”
“Yes, Magresh. I wont to make an offer to those of the Prisoners I can help.”
“Why would they want your help, Admiral?”
“I have tools and I’m prepared to offer those to help build. I did have Guards but most of them have disappeared, which is not really surprising as I cannot pay them but I have a castle that has protection against this planet’s activities and I am prepared to supply tools to build and develop this land.”
“An interesting proposition, Admiral but for most of us we cannot eat your food and by attacking the forests you will injure other Prisoners who forage there. It needs thought. I will contact you when I have an answer.”
“Thank you, Magresh,” and David Jamesson made his way back to his castle.
The computers had really glitched on building the castle. Apart from it having only floor it, in fact, had no furnishings, no bedding, no cooking appliances … he still didn’t understand why some Dwarf Guards had remained but any cooking was on a spit in the Bailey which amusingly was the killing area of the castle with the Mott rising in the middle and the encircling wall providing the Bailey area. The computer had at least built in middens and it was now a weekly duty to move it outside of the castle to a reddish clay area and bury it. David Jamesson, in these circumstances, pulled all the rank he could, as the mess was certainly rank.
They’d cannibalise Hell-Cats and he could still hear the language from the brains that how powered them as they disconnected the power supplies but they couldn’t use the power supplies nor the Hell-Cat’s brains and he want that language again but at least he now had a table and seats and one of the Guards was experimenting with firing clay although his technique would need considerable improvement before he put anything hot into one of his cups again.
The problem with the Armada Class ships was they were originally designed for short-hauls and most soldiers tended not to eat before Planet combat and then were on camp rations so there were no cooking facilities to steal from them.
Now they were on a low-tech planet with no knowledge of any technology apart from a knife and a spit to cook the meat on. The lack of vegetables was already causing several problems and he had several Guards out just scavenging for any think they could find.
He was still sat there some hours later when a noise made him and he saw Magresh trotting into his chamber. He immediately rose, “good evening, Magresh. So good of you to come.”
“Several human and dwarfs are interested in your offer. They would like to sleep under cover again and I can understand that. For some of our races the rain and wind are a fact of life but for dwarfs and humans the requirements are different. I understand they have a range of skills and you may find them useful but they are still Prisoners and should be treated as you would treat me.”
“Thank you, Magresh. They will be treated as I would treat you.”
“Good, Admiral. Then we have nothing else to say. Good evening,” the sound of Magresh trotting away echoed through the chamber.
David Jamesson smiled … things might work out, yet?

Harrath in fact, didn’t go anywhere but Trons being on four wooden legs didn’t sit anywhere, either, and he liked a swim when his wooden body was getting a bit dry. In fact he liked the north-west. It was warmer which helped his joints and the insects were more plentiful and the trees better and he’d decided to leave the north-east to Magresh and David Jamesson whilst he concentrated on James Droga and a better life.
James Droga had a problem. His castle was fifteen miles to west and his Guards – such as remained were fifteen miles to the east. He was exiled, even on Destraight and now surrounded by ten thousand ex-Prisoners.
James was on the far end of a planet with so many barriers to his rightful position that only a moronic neighbour would understand, and they would pay for this but in his head, he could still hear his mother telling him to know his place in life and be at peace with it.
Eventually he used her bridal knife and left it in her throat on the day she said, “You are not joining anything,” and he joined a league of murderers but he also joined the Space Navy and that was just the first of his many killings as he developed his appetite.
Now he faced – not himself, he’d stopped doing that years ago – he faced that there was no-one to admire him; no-one to run to his beck and call; he faced having to live without a life that to him had meaning but now had no control and no-one to admire him and he felt himself almost crumbling but you can always trust a Humoid and he had offered to allow a takeover for the telepathic qualities except this Humoid decided to pass up the opportunity … it didn’t want to take over his brain.
He wasn’t a prisoner in his Manor House and he kept telling himself that but the computer glitches on building were even more pronounced for him. His castle as per the specification from the computers had only one floor built. The Manor House was an empty shell and so were the barracks some fifteen mile away. Someone had made sure of revenge.
He wasn’t sure of how many Guards he had left but without food, pay or women it was doubtful if he there were any he could rely on.
The Prisoners were there and he couldn’t even give them land in return for services since they had taken the land already and all the livestock, leaving him to go and eat with them or starve.
He noticed a few Guards around but they had found female dwarfs and they weren’t coming to him to pledge loyalty when a warm female and food beckoned and the food at least was beckoning to him and he might have woken up some of his favourite women except the Stasis cabinets had been landed in the south whilst he had been landed in the north and from reports that Harrath passed to him, very few Prisoners and Stasis cabinets had survived. The Stasis cabinets were able to take a lot of punishment but a ten foot tidal wave smashing them into hot rock was not part of their specification.
He didn’t hear the wooden footsteps but a seven high Tron does take the sun from you and Harrath didn’t really use words unless he was forced to. Even worse he could read James Droga’s mind and now read it, “Admiral Droga, you willingly gave your key to the Prisoners. You have sheltered dwarfs and humans and others who needed shelter. In return you share our food. We do not desire a return to Admirals dictating and killing us if we disagree and for this to stop you must change everything that you once valued.”
James Droga’s thoughts were immediate, “We need this land cultivated. Yes, I want to be able to live as I used to but we have no trades, apart from killing or be killed and they are difficult for me to shake off. All my life has been killing, yet yours, Harrath, has been of peace. Perhaps I can learn but we still need to plant food, cut trees, make furniture, develop skills for the future. The castle will shelter but the Bailey will always be empty. There are other areas of the castle but all need building and we have no-one who can hew stone or shape wood. Those skills vanished from Dwarvia lifetimes ago.”
“Yes, James Droga, they vanished from your world but did they vanish from the worlds you invaded and destroyed … I think … yes … I think you should think on it, and now I am being called,” and as Harrath left, James Droga felt wind over his head and a Roc without landing plucked him up into the air and now another filled his head with words, “You sought a Humoid to take your mind over … dangerous … I think. It is in my tribe’s interests to know what your actions might be. My name is Tona and my tribe, as I have the most connection to dwarfs and humans requires me to bond with you, so we know your plans. You will have telepathy through that bonding but only to me. Already other Rocs are bonding with your fellow Admirals … I think you should remember we are not Hell-Cats and we have now released their brains from your craft. Where their brains go is another story, and now I will show you what is left of the lands to sought to rule.”
“Can you set me down for a moment, Tona, I need to do something in private and adjust some things.”
“Of course, Admiral Droga and perhaps my back might be a better cushion for you when you return. You put your legs around my neck but don’t hold too tightly to my crop when you do,” Tona swooped down to just outside of his castle and watched as he ran … perhaps he would be in time but she felt he’d already lost it and she moved to a nearby lake to bath – they were plenty of them although most were filled with salt water.

Posted in Adventure, Authors, Book, Books, cirencester, Cotswolds, Fantasy, Fiction Writing, Literary Agents, novels, Planning Writing, Publishers, Science Fiction, Space, Thriller, Writing, Writing Novels, Writing Research

amwriting #amwritingfantasy Usual rubbish

I am actually enjoying sitting here in the morning and realising Astoria is never going to end; it is too much fun and gives me something to do in the Morning.

Theory is that you write as a Control Freak with control spreading like a fracture across your ideas, but who pays a Politician and your thoughts in writing are on the three War-destroying Admirals who stopped bringing in the cash, and on what planets do War-Lords who can’t afford London stash their ill-gotten gains.

The words and one thing about pasting stuff, is that you realise as you are reading your own words you then scurry like a Politician to change something an Editor would charge you a fortune for.

Dave

Is there life after rocks landing. A question that was troubling virtually everyone and there were now 24 shifts amongst the prisoners still to be released.
What seemed to have happened was that the rising of the lands to the east of Martan Matira, had in fact stopped the seas from the east and the south moving further inland. The causeway from his castle still existed but currently his castle was encircled by water.
Martan was also surrounded by water and living on a strip of land that measured twenty miles at its widest and seventy narrowing miles at its best width. The Lodge to his north was surrounded by five miles of water.
He wasn’t, to be polite, going anywhere and nor was anyone else but the prisoners were becoming free and he now had another issue to deal with. He was in the open with very few Guards; his food dependent on the prisoners, and living in a tent. The floods how cooled the western section of the causeway down and that now stretched for some fifty miles long by ten wide, but what, he thought, can you do with five hundred square mile of rock with the rest of the land under sea water however the seas was shrinking to the east and scouts had now informed him that a hundred square mile of earth had stayed above sea level in the east but his castle was still by water with the only way in and out via another causeway although this one now joined land within a mile of leaving the castle and he now made plans to return to the castle.
At least with all the water they could fish as the seas still surrounded the Lodge and swept on to the west coast and well up to the north however James Droga couldn’t invade in any way shape or form and neither could David Jamesson and he was happy with that. There was no trust between the Admirals or their families except to maintain the families as rulers of Dwarvia and even that had now failed.
The only other issue bothering him now was should he revive his wife – Griselda from Stasis – it had never been a difficult decision to use the banishment as an excuse to incarcerate her and he was loathed to change the situation. It had never been a marriage of love and after her use of the marriage knife on their first night together it had become a marriage of survival … Griselda could wait he thought and he needed to shut Rafus Matira up who was blasting his eardrums to oblivion with his talk of his magical prowess … he was worse than Griselda at times and that wasn’t easy, by any means.
What did surprise Martan was that the Trons despite being wooden insect eaters were the de facto leaders of the prisoners, who now called themselves ‘Prisoners’ and Tolan and Yogush represented them aided by Tron survivors from the western Prisoners – of which few survived however certain types of Prisoner were able to outlast the floods.
The Wolfen managed to stay afloat by doggies paddle; the Trons were wooden and floated; the Rock Trolls didn’t have lungs and just walked, often in and through anything in their way; the Rocs were bedraggled when they arrived but they floated using their wings and the Slurms mingled with the waters – the Prisoners who died were dwarfs, Humanoids, and the Minuets who were virtually insects. The animals who drowned were picked up by the freed Rocs and dumped onto the ground to the east to be cooked.
Meat was definitely on the menu, and everyone ate well for a change but it took all the Tron’s mental abilities to stop the Prisoners seeking revenge on Martan Matira who they would happily have carved up and enjoyed doing so but in the end Martan Matira was the only dwarf who now moved amongst them and he often went down to the cooling causeway to look at what might have been his land.
The Trons and Rock Trolls were usually already there and the Rocs – those freed and still able to fly – circled in the air looking for survivors and those floating carcases – now were really salted – so the Rocs moved swiftly but unfortunately like Wolfen, once they had landed the meat they ate first and to describe the meat afterwards would predominately use the term butchered however some meat once they had their fill was deposited in a heap and once again their were in-depth discussions with the Wolfen as to etiquette as they piled in to butcher the meat further. If you wanted a tender bit of rump you were fine but all the good pieces like a butcher’s stall on Friday closing were gone already.
Martan had his Guards surreptitiously herd the live stock towards his castle; leaving the Prisoners to the dead salted meat which didn’t really bother the Trons, Rock Trolls or those Minuets that had survived but it was already causing trouble with free Humanoids and dwarf Prisoners and this led to further conversations with the Trons which Martan had tried to avoid concerning the livestock.
The Minuets like the Trons were telepathic. Whilst they were six foot high they had eight spindly legs and not a long life. The Trons were telepathic as well but of wood. They were about two foot in width and from the base of the necks to their rear, another five foot long. With their legs however they were seven foot in height and wood base insect eaters … only the dwarf Admirals could ever consider them to be enemies – to the Admirals, Tronia was just another target and nothing more as they made war after to war to ensure their families ruled on Dwarvia but now Martan realised that the Trons, Minuets and Wolfen communicated telepathically and then spoke to the others so everything he said was know to all immediately or very soon afterwards and the last a Politician wants is for someone to know what games he is playing.
Already his Guards were being intercepted and the livestock turned around by Rocs and Wolfen who were expert at panicking animals and to a fair degree, the Guards as well. The Guards ran almost as fast as the livestock when the Wolfen and Rocs swiftly moved in and they seemed to have the same degree of intelligence.
Martan Matira finally turned to find himself more intelligence in Tolan than he had ever expected, “You never learn, you dwarfs? You still think you can do what you want and no-one has the intelligence or ability to stop you. Even when you are cut off from most of your ill-gotten gains and out-numbered, you think you can win. We offered you co-operation and you could only think of theft. You do just steal cattle, you steal dignity, life and you cheat because you consider everyone to be below you. Some cattle will be left to you but if you not in your castle by dawn tomorrow, you will be hunted as you’ve hunted others.”
Martan Matira looked into the Tron’s face and tried to out-stare him, to no avail.
“All Prisoners know of choices and you have thirty miles to your castle before dawn tomorrow. I suggest you leave now.”
“I will walk down to the causeway before I leave but you will regret this!”
“I doubt that, very much, Martan Matira. The only regret was trusting you in the first place and that has now been remedied.”
Martan walked down to the causeway and surprisingly, to Martan Matira some Stasis cabinets had survived. The waters, tides and rocks had cracked them but some floated and he and the Guards still with him pulled them onto the rocks.
Several of them, to Martan’s surprise were James Droga’s relatives and they were still alive. Basil Droga was one, but also, somehow so was Sir Wilfred de Bowed and Sir Francis U Storme. What they were doing in Stasis was obviously a matter for another time but it looked very much like a revenge attack by James Droga’s family again the de Bowed and Du Storme families for turning against the Droga’s in the Chamber and they had obviously been picked up off the streets, drugged and put into Stasis cabinets but it made you wonder why Basil Droga was there, who was a non-political dwarf under any circumstances and avoided trouble at all costs, still, as his Guards helped them out of the Cabinets it was time to make his way back to his castle with his Guards pulling them behind on hastily created travois and then a Roc picked him up and flew while she spoke to him in his mind although his rear end was speaking in other ways as his recently eaten meal started to work its way down and now he heard another voice in his mind, “My name is Sheba and my tribe have appointed me to bond with you. James Droga is already bonded, and David Jamesson will be bonded the next time he leaves his castle.”
“Why?”
“All three of you think to dominate and control. This way we know what you think and so will everyone. We are not Humoids and don’t take over your mind; we distribute your real thoughts but that is probably enough. The Prisoners will decide who governs not three deported Admirals.”
“We cannot go back.”
“No, but you can learn and you will need to learn and every thought you have outside of the castle will be broadcast, so you can make all your plans in the castle you cannot leave without your thoughts known to all. You are trapped in a situation of your own making.”
“We didn’t make this situation.”
“Then who did, Admiral Matira? We are the faces you invaded and destroyed, and then you transported a hundred light years from our worlds, families and life … if you didn’t cause us to be here then who did?”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Is there life after rocks landing. A question that was troubling virtually everyone and there were now 24 shifts amongst the prisoners still to be released.
What seemed to have happened was that the rising of the lands to the east of Martan Matira, had in fact stopped the seas from the east and the south moving further inland. The causeway from his castle still existed but currently his castle was encircled by water.
Martan was also surrounded by water and living on a strip of land that measured twenty miles at its widest and seventy narrowing miles at its best width. The Lodge to his north was surrounded by five miles of water.
He wasn’t, to be polite, going anywhere and nor was anyone else but the prisoners were becoming free and he now had another issue to deal with. He was in the open with very few Guards; his food dependent on the prisoners, and living in a tent. The floods how cooled the western section of the causeway down and that now stretched for some fifty miles long by ten wide, but what, he thought, can you do with five hundred square mile of rock with the rest of the land under sea water however the seas was shrinking to the east and scouts had now informed him that a hundred square mile of earth had stayed above sea level in the east but his castle was still by water with the only way in and out via another causeway although this one now joined land within a mile of leaving the castle and he now made plans to return to the castle.
At least with all the water they could fish as the seas still surrounded the Lodge and swept on to the west coast and well up to the north however James Droga couldn’t invade in any way shape or form and neither could David Jamesson and he was happy with that. There was no trust between the Admirals or their families except to maintain the families as rulers of Dwarvia and even that had now failed.
The only other issue bothering him now was should he revive his wife – Griselda from Stasis – it had never been a difficult decision to use the banishment as an excuse to incarcerate her and he was loathed to change the situation. It had never been a marriage of love and after her use of the marriage knife on their first night together it had become a marriage of survival … Griselda could wait he thought and he needed to shut Rafus Matira up who was blasting his eardrums to oblivion with his talk of his magical prowess … he was worse than Griselda at times and that wasn’t easy, by any means.
What did surprise Martan was that the Trons despite being wooden insect eaters were the de facto leaders of the prisoners, who now called themselves ‘Prisoners’ and Tolan and Yogush represented them aided by Tron survivors from the western Prisoners – of which few survived however certain types of Prisoner were able to outlast the floods.
The Wolfen managed to stay afloat by doggies paddle; the Trons were wooden and floated; the Rock Trolls didn’t have lungs and just walked, often in and through anything in their way; the Rocs were bedraggled when they arrived but they floated using their wings and the Slurms mingled with the waters – the Prisoners who died were dwarfs, Humanoids, and the Minuets who were virtually insects. The animals who drowned were picked up by the freed Rocs and dumped onto the ground to the east to be cooked.
Meat was definitely on the menu, and everyone ate well for a change but it took all the Tron’s mental abilities to stop the Prisoners seeking revenge on Martan Matira who they would happily have carved up and enjoyed doing so but in the end Martan Matira was the only dwarf who now moved amongst them and he often went down to the cooling causeway to look at what might have been his land.
The Trons and Rock Trolls were usually already there and the Rocs – those freed and still able to fly – circled in the air looking for survivors and those floating carcases – now were really salted – so the Rocs moved swiftly but unfortunately like Wolfen, once they had landed the meat they ate first and to describe the meat afterwards would predominately use the term butchered however some meat once they had their fill was deposited in a heap and once again their were in-depth discussions with the Wolfen as to etiquette as they piled in to butcher the meat further. If you wanted a tender bit of rump you were fine but all the good pieces like a butcher’s stall on Friday closing were gone already.
Martan had his Guards surreptitiously herd the live stock towards his castle; leaving the Prisoners to the dead salted meat which didn’t really bother the Trons, Rock Trolls or those Minuets that had survived but it was already causing trouble with free Humanoids and dwarf Prisoners and this led to further conversations with the Trons which Martan had tried to avoid concerning the livestock.
The Minuets like the Trons were telepathic. Whilst they were six foot high they had eight spindly legs and not a long life. The Trons were telepathic as well but of wood. They were about two foot in width and from the base of the necks to their rear, another five foot long. With their legs however they were seven foot in height and wood base insect eaters … only the dwarf Admirals could ever consider them to be enemies – to the Admirals, Tronia was just another target and nothing more as they made war after to war to ensure their families ruled on Dwarvia but now Martan realised that the Trons, Minuets and Wolfen communicated telepathically and then spoke to the others so everything he said was know to all immediately or very soon afterwards and the last a Politician wants is for someone to know what games he is playing.
Already his Guards were being intercepted and the livestock turned around by Rocs and Wolfen who were expert at panicking animals and to a fair degree, the Guards as well. The Guards ran almost as fast as the livestock when the Wolfen and Rocs swiftly moved in and they seemed to have the same degree of intelligence.
Martan Matira finally turned to find himself more intelligence in Tolan than he had ever expected, “You never learn, you dwarfs? You still think you can do what you want and no-one has the intelligence or ability to stop you. Even when you are cut off from most of your ill-gotten gains and out-numbered, you think you can win. We offered you co-operation and you could only think of theft. You do just steal cattle, you steal dignity, life and you cheat because you consider everyone to be below you. Some cattle will be left to you but if you not in your castle by dawn tomorrow, you will be hunted as you’ve hunted others.”
Martan Matira looked into the Tron’s face and tried to out-stare him, to no avail.
“All Prisoners know of choices and you have thirty miles to your castle before dawn tomorrow. I suggest you leave now.”
“I will walk down to the causeway before I leave but you will regret this!”
“I doubt that, very much, Martan Matira. The only regret was trusting you in the first place and that has now been remedied.”
Martan walked down to the causeway and surprisingly, to Martan Matira some Stasis cabinets had survived. The waters, tides and rocks had cracked them but some floated and he and the Guards still with him pulled them onto the rocks.
Several of them, to Martan’s surprise were James Droga’s relatives and they were still alive. Basil Droga was one, but also, somehow so was Sir Wilfred de Bowed and Sir Francis U Storme. What they were doing in Stasis was obviously a matter for another time but it looked very much like a revenge attack by James Droga’s family again the de Bowed and Du Storme families for turning against the Droga’s in the Chamber and they had obviously been picked up off the streets, drugged and put into Stasis cabinets but it made you wonder why Basil Droga was there, who was a non-political dwarf under any circumstances and avoided trouble at all costs, still, as his Guards helped them out of the Cabinets it was time to make his way back to his castle with his Guards pulling them behind on hastily created travois and then a Roc picked him up and flew while she spoke to him in his mind although his rear end was speaking in other ways as his recently eaten meal started to work its way down and now he heard another voice in his mind, “My name is Sheba and my tribe have appointed me to bond with you. James Droga is already bonded, and David Jamesson will be bonded the next time he leaves his castle.”
“Why?”
“All three of you think to dominate and control. This way we know what you think and so will everyone. We are not Humoids and don’t take over your mind; we distribute your real thoughts but that is probably enough. The Prisoners will decide who governs not three deported Admirals.”
“We cannot go back.”
“No, but you can learn and you will need to learn and every thought you have outside of the castle will be broadcast, so you can make all your plans in the castle you cannot leave without your thoughts known to all. You are trapped in a situation of your own making.”
“We didn’t make this situation.”
“Then who did, Admiral Matira? We are the faces you invaded and destroyed, and then you transported a hundred light years from our worlds, families and life … if you didn’t cause us to be here then who did?”

Posted in Adventure, Book, Books, cirencester, Cotswolds, Fantasy, Fiction Writing, Literary Agents, novels, Publishers, Writing, Writing Novels

#amwriting #amwritingfantasy Some other future stuff

Been a long day and I’m just browsing the work to date on Scrivener.

It took me a while to cut 60K of writing into Scrivener and don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased I did.

I’m not a Control Freak and enough Leadership Courses to confirm that but I could never stand the Politics and sitting in meetings where I couldn’t smash heads together to see if they were human and not 9 to 5 Politicians who thought the job owed them for turning, but using Scrivener means cutting everything into bits and it does help when your brain is wondering all over the place and crying at its lost direction.

When I wrote the FYOG and the Parky Espionage books I kept the plots simple and could write as a pantser since they were novice books and start to finish in one go.

With Astoria there are potentially so many story lines that it is too easy to either bodge it or get lost.

Instead I cut it into Scrivener and now I have the opportunity to write on any section at any point and there must now be over 50 different sections structured into ideas and from this I am starting to detail a structure and ideas.

Unfortunately, all I have done is set myself up for yet more work but the aim, and I believe I can hit it, is the the story will flow but still in my mind is that this is just the start.

If I printed it now for a book it would be 250 pages and I don’t want that. I want to write a decent book that people like.

Dave

King Stefen was in his dungeons and especially the one containing Sir Charles’ Spymaster; currently: if Stefen released him having extracted, previously, Sir Charles funds, information and thank you very much, Spymaster, thought King Stefen.
King Stefen’s real enjoyment as his own spies arrested all of the people who came to find the Spy Master was their talking and yes … he did enjoy listening to it; and did they like to talk as they hung from their feet over his tower but he also had dogs to feed and dog food wasn’t cheap and they were trying to undermine his kingdom so the eventually the dogs ate, and he learnt.
The Spymaster had now admitted to anything and Stefen decided he couldn’t be turned any further. They knew all his contacts – virtually everyone he’d ever met and Stefen needed Laseith within reach; Routani was the means but Laseith’s greed was the attraction, and the method. Stefen would need more priest and priestesses than he could probably afford to protect him but Sir Charles’ money would go towards that. They were trying to kill him and Donina, and Sir Charles should interfere with both Routani and Laseith’s plans if allowed enough leverage. He felt he’d built enough protection for the moment but they were following and concentrating on Donina, who would lead them a merry chase, as she had led him?
She’d led everyone else merry chases for years!
All he needed now, were their Spy Masters and networks: much as he loved Donina, she would be a fool to think he would put her life before his or his rule; Sir Charles’ Guards would follow her, and he would regret the deaths but he would rule, and she would die, and that was a fact of ruling!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Donina, was fulfilling her duties with King Martan and she saw him once again shake his head.
“Have I failed you, my Lord?”
“You have never failed me, Donina – I failed you.”
“How could you fail me, my Lord?”
“I should have stopped making love to you when I knew you were with child, Donina.”
“I’m not with child, my Lord.”
“Charles Dastry via my future wife Princess Routani, has informed me, you are expecting.”
“You didn’t know, my Lord; how could the toad know?”
“The toad jumps everywhere, my love, and I assume one of my loyal subjects who observed you, saved a pigeon from an early dinner; Dastry normally eats slugs and now he would appear to want to eat more nourishing food!”
“One of your people betrayed us?”
“Why do you seem so surprised, Donina. Betrayal, never surprises me.”
“I will never betray you, my Lord.”
“I know that, Donina and that is why I must lose you, and loose you.”
“Keep me by your side, my Lord. I do not seek more than that.”
“Kings, Donina, are as much in love with you as they are with their responsibilities and beliefs. Don’t ask me to explain, I don’t know if I could, or if I would, if I could; I must marry Princess Routani for stability – there must be a Queen or the attempts to kill me will achieve even greater success by civil war and this country destroyed if I die without someone on the throne. I think even now that Sir Charles Dastry is on his way by some magic of Princess Laseith. My only hope is to make sure Princess Routani knows she is as much a victim as I am. I will marry Routani but you must leave and seek whatever sanctuary you can find and bring our son or daughter to a better ending than they will have here and I will always love and treasure you, and our child.”
“Can you be still my Lord, or we lose a moment’s love?”
“We have peace for the moment, Donina but I have to head east for yet another battle. People should protect me.”
“Will they, my Lord? You don’t want me with you to watch over your back?”
“Our child will live, and hopefully so will you – watching my back in a battle is beyond your skills my love and so you must leave, Donina and now.”
“I will never leave you, my Lord. My body may but I will never leave you, my heart.”
“The sooner your body leaves me, the sooner my heart will stop leaving my body. Take what you need, Donina, there is a bag of crowns on the table – take them; head for where you feel safe!”
“Quietly, my Lord. Perhaps it is better I leave now – I know someone of the old beliefs; she knows how to hide …? She and her husband have hidden for years.”
“You would trust one of them?”
“We killed and destroyed them, they didn’t kill us and we forced them to …. Jacque and Mari keep and breed hawks now but I wonder if they will keep me?”
“Perhaps they will but I doubt it. The Matira’s were the biggest killers of the old races … those they found; and, yes, they found a lot. Those they didn’t kill, they imprisoned and worked to death as slaves; people of this country fought to rule in Toshonia – Trons, Dwarf’s and Minuets – they killed, or tried to kill! Why would anyone of the Old Stock help a King of Toshonia?”
“Perhaps they will help me. Can I leave in the morning, my Lord. We still have time.”
“Yes, time for you to die if you stay, Donina … I think not. Sir Charles, I am told, is already on his way to murder. Leave now. Horses are ready and my Royal Own will escort you to safety. Ride, Donina, ride and do not stop until you find your chances in life – let that be our legacy. Do not tell me where you ride – just ride. You must be gone but never from my heart or mind. I sacrifice you for the people of this kingdom … I have no choice, now ride Donina, ride!”
The problem with running away when pregnant, Donina realised is that you prefer movement to be a little slower and preferably not on a horse but the armour had been suitably changed to fit her condition and two Guards were staying very close to her, and so was a large Cat that no-one seemed to notice.
No-one looked happy – not even the Cat. The horses were restless; the Guards were restless and the two Guards near her seemed stable until she learnt they were called ‘The Drunk’ and ‘Jinny’ and at this point she was feeling quite queasy herself – Rosanna had given her a potion to ease this but it made her sleepy and that was a luxury at the moment especially when she thought about the Drunk and Jinny.
Donina didn’t know where the Cat came from but there were other problems needing her urgent attention in her pregnancy and it was only ten minutes ago they’d left the castle.
She’d thought she’d hidden it well for five months but everyone watched her as a guide to her master’s moods and from that they watched her stomach, bottom and toilet habits – loose clothing could hide most things but she’d needed to make some visits that couldn’t be hidden and nor could the frequency of them and she couldn’t touch food in public with or without a taster although she did try but even that was wearing out, as were the tasters.
She had lost eight food tasters so far this year and was regularly checked by Rosanna most evenings. Now she would need to check herself but her toilet habits wouldn’t change.
They finally started to move and it was slow.
The night looked at Donina who then looked at her escort and Jinny, who was leading the Guards, “isn’t it dangerous to ride across cornfields in the dark?”
“We need to head east, my Lady but someone inconveniently built the road from Matira to the west – taking us in the wrong direction and in what will be public sight in a few hours. We need to move to the east and remain out of sight – King Stefen already holds one Spy Master in his dungeons plus several who came to find. It won’t be long before whoever employs knows he has disappeared. Quite severe questioning has highlighted his employer as Sir Charles Dastry. If we follow the sea coast until it ends, we are some ten miles from the road but eighty miles closer and undiscovered. We can ease your condition by riding slowly but on the road, we would have to move at speed. The Drunk and I also have a Cat and he will be prowling and scenting for anyone following.”
“Who chose this route?”
“I did, and with the Cat I have more chance of guaranteeing your safety than by blindly following a road in the wrong direction. Are you ready to ride?”
“You seemed frightened?”
“I am alive and I have been, as a trooper for many years. I would not tell you how to act as a concubine, please don’t tell me how to act as a trooper and King Stefen considers me a ‘lucky trooper’ as I usually win. That is why I have this job, now please mount your horse and will we move out before we alert the whole country and don’t think that no-one is looking for you. An exhausted rider from Charguar reported to King Stefen shortly before he spoke to you, and I know what the King heard. Sir Charles Dastry recently landed in Toshonia and is now raising a villains and two black hounds the size of the Cat to move on Matira and the King …? You would be a bonus and hurt the King more than anything.”
“So menace stalked me before I even left the castle; together with two killer hounds.”
“Yes. That is another reason why we take this route. There is only one way they can follow our tracks if they pick this route, otherwise they must use the road; travel the extra distance and face the extra patrols that King Martan has on the roads; also the Cat is watching our backs. It was obvious that Sir Charles has his own spies in the castle and you went to bed with King Martan as a concubine and left as a guard. In some hours, someone will be on their way to Charguar to inform Sir Charles that Lady Donina has not made her usual toilette visits and this will alert them. It won’t take long for a late night patrol to be connected to this and that is also why riding directly towards them is not a good idea. We also need to move slowly and the dogs if they follow, will smell us and they will move faster than we can and once they get close enough they can take out horses and people. Our only hopes are that it will take them time to get here and pick up the scent or else they will lose any scents on the roads – one reason for the extra patrols. The Black Hounds don’t need to kill and the hounds take a lot of killing. Even Cat can only handle one but a Cat does have a brain and she or he uses it, amongst their other tricks. Let’s move; we are wasting time.”
Sir Charles, after a good bath, good meal and a bottle of rot gut wine that he donated to the Guards still at Margo’s house, slept well, which was hardly surprising, considering his trip on the broom and he was breaking his fast with Margo when they heard the messenger arrive and Margo was the first out of the house.
“What news, Trevor?”
“Routine, Margo. No sign of the Spy Master and anyone asking vanishes. King Stefen is still in the castle. Donina appears to be staying with him in the King’s bed chambers, and that has been known to happen before. More patrols than normal on the roads but no reason as far as anyone knows. It is said, ‘Princess Routani will be arriving shortly’ but no confirmation of that. Everything seems to be quiet and no real signs of anything. If there are any changes, a rider is available and will be here. It is only eighty miles from Matira and the rider would kill his horse to bring news so you will hear within six hours if anything changes.”
“Rest yourself and your horse, Trevor, head for the tavern and I’ll summons you if I need you.”
“Thank you, Margo,” and Trevor headed back down the road as Sir Charles looked at Margo.
“Can you trust him, Margo?”
“As much as any of my sons, Sir Charles.”
Donina’s escort progressed some ten miles through the cornfields which were a little lower in some places and even lower where the horses trampled. Eight miles from the road that Donina demanded and turning south was her demand, once again.
Donina then hit the wall of Jinny – yet again, “No, Donina. It is only eight miles to the road but just another fourteen to the small copse adjoining the road. The longer we stay off the road the safer we are and the hounds can’t pick up scent unless they know our route and target. It should leave us seventy miles ahead of them if they use the road and these cornfields should make the hounds work, a lot heavier, but they will be on our trail by the time we reach the copse. Sure as a rooster’s crow in the morning.”
“And when they find us?”
“We will have some hounds and people to kill,” and much to Donina’s chagrin and bowels, they continued east across the cornfields, avoiding any farms.”
It was some eight hours later when both Donina, her escort, and Sir Charles’ second messenger finally found their respective destinations.
Donina’s destination, to her disgust, was the copse by the road and Donina was finally realising that her running a kingdom, as she felt she had, was dependent on King Stefen sleeping with her and he had no intention of doing that anymore.
The time advantage was being worn down by Donina, who unused to not getting her own way, was now playing King Stefen’s deathly games for him. She wanted to head for the road so it was more comfortable and was increasing her toilet stops to make her point that cornfields were causing her to stop too often.
They were barely making five miles an hour – courtesy of Donina – whilst unknown to her their pursuers were making between twelve to fifteen miles an hour as they galloped through the cornfields and ate the distance between them. Finally they made the copse by the road and Donina with a sigh large enough for everyone to hear, said, “we have made the road!”
“What we have made Donina, is someone threatening your life; our mission, and the lives of this escort for nothing more than your tantrums! Our scouts are already reporting that nearly forty men are pursuing us and they are eight miles behind us. You have wiped out any advantage we had!”
“If you had taken the roads, they wouldn’t have found us.”
“Donina. We would be twenty miles closer to them and dead by now, if we had. As it is, your arrogance will probably kill all of us, and that includes you, my proud lady!”
“So how will you defend me now, my proud leader?”
“Possibly, by wringing your neck but that wouldn’t affect your brain, since that is in your loins and your death is all they desire. If you, Donina, do not delay us any longer with your death wish, there is a second branch from the road about twenty miles ahead. The first branch is eight miles ahead. We need the Cat to spray scent around, and we’ll have to hope they have a Scout who will seek where the horses leave— …? Gods, what am I thinking of? They’ll expect us to leave the escort and the escort then draws them away. We need some decoys to carry on through the trees and be where the road turns off on the bend at eight miles. Others will turn off after twenty miles and the first team will join them. The rest will stay with the plan. The Cat needs to spray its scent through the trees across country for the next twenty miles to attract the hounds. We, Donina, stay with the main party although we’ll lose half the force over the two roads but if you could do your business in the trees for their hounds pick up, some should follow the Guards through the trees; they will take their horses through it and the rest should follow the escort. Hopefully we’ll be able to turn right at the next bend and finally might make Spragend—”
“You’re not trying to make Spragend, so why have you headed this way?”
“Didn’t King Martan tell you anything?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Ask yourself this question. If the road to Toshon Village lies to the West, why do you think you have been moving east?”
“You decided!”
“Do you know where Charguar is, Donina?”
“In the mountains to the west.”
“Sir Charles Dastry’s Guards are actually in the forest bordering the road you would have to take from Matira with no means of escape and Sir Charles aiming to kill you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Leaving Matira and heading west would take us past Sir Charles’ Guards in the forest who could ambush us with archers from north and south of the road. The aim, which you have deliberately thwarted was to head through the cornfields; build up a lead of some miles; head towards Spragend and turn back to the west across some thirty of the Spragend sea. Then we head for the Matira sea and finally make the Toshonia sea which would then allow us to sail Rocs Revenge and be within walking distance of Jacque and Mari.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Let’s get on with the job. We need to gallop across this land like a wind passing more than these Guards do. Go between the seas and there are no roads, just rough country. Hopefully by the time they realise, they’ve little chance of catching us as it will be boat and horse and the Drunk should have the first boat hired by the time we get there and he’s had his last drink. The main problem, now, is that we’ve lost our time advantage and King Stefen did not plan this route. His plan was for you to use the roads and be caught by Sir Charles.”
“That is a lie. You are a traitor! You are sacrificing my life.”
“I am not prepared to sacrifice the lives of my Guards for you, and King Stefen does not want your child born and I am to cut its throat if it ever—”
“That is a lie. He told me he loved me—”
“—Then why did he lie to you. Why did he tell to move slowly. Our only hope was speed and you wiped that out. My Guards with you are just a decoy and Stefen thinks you’ll die on the road or in Spragend and my Guards with you – we are all a sacrifice and I’m trying to take you to where you are safe.”
“Why would he lie to me. He loves me.”
“Why would he marry Princess Routani if he wanted you as his Queen and he is King, and can decide who he marries. There is no law against a King of Matira marrying a commoner.”
“There is a law. He can only marry a Princess. That is the law.”
“The law is the King and he is the law. He can do whatever he wants and you have no political value and bearing a child, you have the ability to plunge his kingdom into even more warfare. You got yourself pregnant, thinking to control the King. He decided you were disposable and I’m not prepared to risk my life for the antics of a King and concubine.”
“You are disloyal—”
“But still alive, in spite of you. Our Guards will now reverse and head across cornfields, bypassing yet another forest and we would finally join up with some Guards, surprisingly at the point where you wanted to meet with Sir Charles and his Guards – forecast at some twenty miles behind us but in fact only eight miles. You left us little chance with your tantrums but they will follow your scent; your urine, and perhaps end that when the hounds find your throat!”
“Are they really that close?”
“Joshua?”
“Yes, Jinny.”
“Tell the Lady …?”
“Our only hope was speed and you wiped that out. The Guards with you are just a decoy and Stefen thinks you’ll die on the road or in Spragend and the Guards with you – we are all a sacrifice and Jinny is trying to take you to where you are safe.”
“They are drawing closer the longer we sit here! No matter what plan we decide, we need to move. None of us wishes to die, sat here.”
Jinny rode up to the three Guards she’d selected, “go through the trees. Make sure you create a trail. They probably won’t follow you but at the turn-off after that, you move across country again; another six Guards will move to join you there. You wait for them. I don’t think they will attack you as they should follow Donina’ smells and that will lead them to us. You then harass them from behind. All of you have horse bows – use them. They Cat will go with you. If nothing else, it will confuse them and slow them down, and they will wonder how many Guards we really have left if we can squander Guards? You have leave to run, once you engage them but don’t run to Matira – that should, with luck, confuse them even more and hopefully split their forces. This is your note of authority should you meet patrols on the roads. It requires them to assist you,” They took off and the rest of the Guards moved on at a far faster rate, after Donina had once more excused herself.
Jinny watched them go. There wouldn’t be any Guards for them to meet up with but maybe a couple of Guards who were useless could be targets and join them; you never know, they might survive, or even be of some use, afterwards.
Donina had actually tried to fool King Stefen, thinking that if she became pregnant he would not marry Princess Routani. Stefen did not want a child as it complicated things and had decided her escape would be her death-trap or at the very least a miscarriage and the problem was over. He knew Sir Charles had Guards in the forests to the west of Matira but it was too close to comfort for him to arrange her death there – it had to be far enough away to blame someone else – she was far too well known as being close to him. Instead the idea was to move her across country on a horse for some forty miles whilst word of her leaving was released to the remaining spies of Sir Charles to make him move.
The Guards were as much a sacrifice as anyone else … Jinny had realised that quite early on. The whole plan was a shambles and the Drunk had slipped away earlier whilst the Cat had followed her hand directions to go through the trees with the small band of Guards.
Convincing Sir Charles was the next target and in this she was aided by the tantrums of Donina who’d deliberately slowed them down. Now all they could do was run and hope to split Sir Charles’ forces. They carried on with her towards the west of Toshonia.
Sir Charles and his Guards had made good time through the cornfields and with the path conveniently beaten down were hardly breaking wind. The path was straight and the hounds were picking up the scent with no trouble at all. They seemed to just love running and were easily outdistancing the horses. Sir Charles was also impressed by Margo’s sons: Bostrus looked after one hound called Trusty; Trevor watched the second hound call Evil, like a hawk and often spent his time chasing it and forcing it to return, while Mansly, who was an excellent scout seemed to look after his two brothers like hounds. Still they were making good time and after Mansly had checked some horse droppings he established that the party some four hours ahead but looking at the signs some appeared to have started for the road; some carried on into the trees and towards the coast and some carried on straight ahead.
Sir Charles asked Mansly for numbers?
“Sir Charles, they are deliberately messing up the horses on damp ground and the corn gives little away … I think about twenty— no … my gut feeling is thirty but they have some feline with them and what I don’t understand is that someone who is pregnant is stopping every few miles to pass water; I have children and my wife did not pass water that often when bearing any of my young. It makes me that someone is deliberately slowing them down – as if they want us to reach them – it makes no sense my Lord – no sense at all?”
“How long before we catch them?”
“I would say four hours, my Lord—”
“Then we move—”
“Where my Lord. They’ve split into three parties? One towards the coast; one towards the road, and the third through the trees towards the road?”
“Follow the scent of the one who keeps passing water.”
“That is the one heading to the coast.”
“My Lord. If we are wrong, we will never catch them. There are only three and they are making good speed through the trees. Better than they should. They must be a decoy my Lord.”
“And if they are not, Mansly? What if they are not?”
“I can only advise, my Lord. If we are wrong she could live. If you are right, they still have four hours to reach the coast and take a boat.”
“If they take a boat, they will drowned at sea – that will happen.”
“As you say, my Lord.”
“We head for the road, Mansly, and with all speed.”
Donina, now in a full guard’s uniform was finding the metal across the chest difficult but not as difficult as passing water standing up in guard’s breeches but she was a lot faster now. The pursuers however were also faster and they did not appear to be stopping for anything. Jinny looked back and looking at Alison – her third in command, said, “we leave now. Through the trees to the south and we’ll pick up a small village on the Spragend Sea. Fifteen miles and we should just make it. The Drunk should be there, or he and I will have words in hell; over his dead body.”
“Move, Jinny, and we’ll have more chance,” and Jinny grabbed the reins of Donina’s horse; pulled it off the road and into the forest. The Cat, as if by magic, now appeared.
Donina started her instant and continuous complaints and had her helmet rattled as Jinny hit it, “Any more out of you and I’ll gag you,” Donina immediately started to argue and found chains around her hands linked to her reins whilst a gag was forced into her mouth; stopping all conversation.
“You are not killing me, Donina. You are just a deposed concubine with no more rights than a beggar. These people better be prepared to take you in or you’ll wonder the streets. We’ll head for a boat that the Drunk should have hidden or the Cat wouldn’t be here. Now we ride.”
Sir Charles’ Guards finally stopped as the hounds barked and Mansly leapt down from his horse to inspect their point of interest, “Two horse, Sir Charles, have come off the road and headed into the forest. I can’t say any more.”
“So three headed through a forest towards the north coast; two head through a forest towards the south coast and the rest follow the road … what I wonder is the difference? The north gives an ability to escape. The south effectively goes nowhere, and the main Guards are heading to Spragend by the look of it. Is there any smell of the Cat?”
“I can set the hounds on it but we lose time, my Lord.”
“We will catch them, Mansly. Stand the Guards down but one patrol – have them follow the remainder of the Guards and report back after ten miles; we need a rest and they won’t be able to avoid us. Find if the Cat is around and then we’ll know whether it is another decoy.”
Donina’s Guards made one mistake as they reined up and looked back to check their pursuers. The decoy to the north had not been followed and they now headed back to the road to take the patrol from the rear. As the patrol passed they unleashed arrows from their horse bows into the ten guardsmen of Sir Charles, however two of the Guards had been instructed to ride back to the main Guards if they were attacked and he immediately gave orders for his main body and the hounds to hunt them down.
Jinny kept dragging Donina’s horse towards the point she agreed to meet the Drunk. It wasn’t easy as Donina kept trying to pull her horse up and Jinny heard the noise of the following Guards moving closer and closer until finally she could see the bay and a small boat.
Looking over her shoulder she could see movement in the trees behind her, and then the Drunk was running towards her from the beach and then stopping as if shot when he saw the chains and gag, “Cut the reins, Drunk; throw her in boat and get us away. We’ve only minutes; they have crossbows and she’s sabotaging us …?” The Drunk slashed the reins with his knife and threw Donina chains and her over his shoulder as he started to stagger towards the boat. Jinny stopped to cut the saddlebags loose and then followed the Drunk; vaulted into the boat and put the saddlebags in the stern whilst the Drunk pushed the boat out and leapt in.
The boat was only some 60 foot from the shore when Sir Charles and his Guards arrived and began firing at the boat. Jinny held up the saddlebags as some kind of protection; feeling several bolts hit them as riders tried to force their horses into the sea to get closer and use their horse bows. She would have liked to use Donina as protection but the Drunk still had some feelings.
Sir Charles watched from the sea as they moved away, “They’ve escaped but we’ll find them and kill them. Where is that bitch heading, I wonder?”
“Which bitch, Sir Charles? Those bloody Guards or Donina. The sooner we find them and kill them, the better. Only problem is that, that Guards leader has a brain, and where is that bloody Cat that’s been creating havoc?”
People often think that big Cats don’t swim; perhaps they’re right and paddling doesn’t really count as swimming.
In the Cat’s case, he didn’t care and just followed the boat which once out of the sight turned to the north west and headed for a narrow inlet which eventually measured some eight miles hard rowing. As they neared the inlet the Drunk was feeling in need of several trees to fall on him and that large foaming froth that revived him. Jinny was sick of a spoilt Donina and showed no signs of wanting to remove Donina’s gag or chains; the Drunk’s raised voice finally crept over the laboured sound of the oars, “She needs to drink and breath, Jinny and so do I for that matter although you would possibly disagree?”
“I’ve had enough of her, Drunk.”
“I’ve had enough as well, Jinny, but I’ve just found a boat that I rode for nigh on eight miles with two of you doing nothing but staring at each other. I can appreciate the gag, Jinny and I’d laughed, if the energy was there, but why the chains?”
“Think for a minute, Drunk. Why was Donina trying to make sure Sir Charles caught up with and killed us and believe me she was!”
“I always believe you, Jinny but what could she hope to achieve, my occasional love? Sir Charles would kill her as quickly as us. He isn’t going to take Stefen’s throwaways or is he? Sir Charles didn’t cross Gods’ know how many seas for to kill a concubine. He came here for something else and I don’t have the faintest idea of what he came for? You’re supposed to be the thinking person, Jinny, and she’d derailed you as she does others: her only skill; apart from her body, is her mouth and kingdom politics?”
“Assume for a moment, my Drunk, that Sir Charles came for something and it isn’t Donina – why would he pursue Donina to kill her? Why would Donina feel she has something of interest to Sir Charles that would protect her? There are one or more almighty questions here, and Donina appears to know something that she thinks will see her safe, my drunken friend?”
“There is only the baby, Jinny, and that from a concubine who is being replaced by a Princess who will be a King’s wife.”
“Yes, my friendly Drunk but Sir Charles has bigger fish to fry and he will not wish to share his fish and potatoes with Stefen’s throwaways.”
“Why does Sir Charles think this is his Kingdom and does Donina know that?”
“The Matira’s kept the core as Dwarf held and controlled. Stefen tried to control it but it was twisted into something he still doen’t understand. Martan and Stefen adopted other species to dilute challenges but control was always with the Matira’s and using people is never a good idea – they tend to object. A Droga was probably the father of one or two Princesses who never called themselves Droga. The Matira’s killed anyone who spoke against them and drove Basil Droga out but the Droga’s seed is also in the Dastry family and they don’t forget either. The Matira’s control drove the Droga’s underground and Dastry erupts. The Droga’s were widespread with ‘Old Magic’ and they protected themselves in ways they knew. The Dwarfs failed to kill them. That is why we have the ‘Old Stock’ and the Cats. Donina can’t keep her mouth shut any more than her bladder but she has learnt something and I prefer not to know, otherwise I will cut her throat for her knowledge but her baby will have Droga and possibly Dastry links plus Old Folk which is why her destination in Old Folk.”
“We can’t keep her in chains and gagged. We have move three miles to the second boat on the Matira sea and then finally five miles to the Toshonian Sea to finally pick up the last piece of road – Unchain her.”
Jinny finally unwrapped Donina’s chains and it took a lot of thought to get them from her neck, and as Donina threw herself at Jinny as they chains came off; she again, wrapped them around Donina’s neck.
The Drunk watched this, and wished he’d been able to take a drink. You don’t mess with women but he took the gag off and said, “I’ll cut both your throats if you carry on, and if I have to – neither of you will need a gag after that!”
“I’m just trying to protect myself.”
“Both of you stopped that a long time ago – now you just use people for the little we have and they have the little you desire. You are trying to kill everyone because you think that is how you survive. King Stefen wants you dead and you are not killing us as well – neither of you. We have a three mile walk to another boat and then hours of rowing to travel fifteen miles. Five mile walk after that and another fifteen miles and then it gets difficult, and I’m the one doing the work on the oars. Choose?”
“I could have saved everyone if I met Sir Charles. He would give anything for a son of King Stefen.”
“And if it is a daughter?”
“It will be a son – I know.”
“When do you ever stop lying, Donina. Had it been a son and Stefen has his priests and priestesses, you would not be on the road nor would Stefen be looking for another woman. A daughter, however, could give birth to another son and a challenger for the Kingdom – you are having a daughter and you know, that but you would sacrifice all of us for yourself. I keep my honour, Donina, more you can keep anything. You will reach your refuge and let them deal with you because I have had enough of you, in all senses!”

Posted in Adventure, Authors, Book, Books, cirencester, Cotswolds, Fantasy, Fiction Writing, novels, Thriller, Writing, Writing Novels