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Act One – Scene Thirteen: The Passing of Titans

Here is my re-rendering of the death of Hayley (was Hasnove). I’m not entirely sure if I’ve done any good here, but considering matters, I’m not sure I could have made it any worse. At any rate, the rip-off line from Chronicles of Riddick is probably the one sentance I have written that I have regretted the most, so at any cost I am pleased to be rid of it. After all, it wasn’t as if it even made sense or did anything for the plot…

As a forward to the snippet I should note that I’ve reordered events so that Hayley and Alken leave the company directly before the rest arrive at Kanedon, so that as they fight in Craharn Gail has become engrossed in the Geldrin school of warfare as a means to pass time. Hayley on his return would therefore logically be heading to Kanedon.

When the sun set Gail was exhausted. She was more sore and bruised than she remembered ever being before, even on her first days with Anne. She stayed at the school that night. She could have gone back to her room at the keep, but it Lecia Geldrin offered her a bed, and it seemed better to her to stay here among her classmates. She was put in a room with the only three other girls in attendance there.The next day passed in much the same way, and the next after that. From sunup to sundown the princess of NaRasch was kept busy with various fighting scenarios, always pushed to expand her understanding and improve her reflexes. Her muscles hardened, and she found herself performing motions she had not been able to accomplish before.

 

 

The morning of the fourth day came as the two had before it, with a simple breakfast and then the resuming of practice. Gail had hardly faced off, however, when Arlen Bresh came riding into the grounds. He rode right up to here before dropping from the saddle.

“Hayley has returned!” said the Pirate breathlessly. “I came as soon as I heard! Come with me!”

Lecia Geldrin was with the queen that morning, and Taylor was teaching nearby. Gail looked automatically to the master of defense, and he nodded, giving her his leave – not that she would have needed it. Arlen Bresh remounted his horse, and held out an arm to pull Gail up behind him. When she had mounted he turned the steed about, galloping back to the keep.

They passed beneath the queen’s house and rode down through the city. The traffic of the morning scattered before them and in minutes they came to the front gate. There, a little beyond the gate, stood a horse, wounded and covered in blood and dirt. Beside the horse lay Hayley, himself every bit as battered as his steed. He was cut in many places, and an arrow protruded from his arm. Freyn was there, kneeling over her grandfather. The old man was shaking his head determinedly.

“Father, we must get you to the physicians!” Freyn was saying. “There is very little time!”

“There is no time at all,” replied Hayley, even as Arlen and Gail were dismounting. “My daughter, I am wounded far beyond what the eye betrays. There are few bones in my body which are not broken, for I was astride Bruno when a dart struck him down. I fell far. I am wasted – let me be.”

“You underestimate the skill of my doctors,” pleaded Freyn. “Come, and find comfort.”

“There is none left for me,” said Hayley, choking on his word. “I am thinking now for your safety. Know this now – that Craharn has fallen, and the royal house is dead. Your loyal warrior Alken died in defense of the king, and he did not throw his life away lightly as you commanded him. I escaped only when all those I had gone to protect were slain, but I was struck as I ran, and I have been pursued by the Watch. I must not pass your gate, or let it be known that you have been friends with the empire. Say, rather, that I came and you refused me sanctuary. Shut your gates!”

“I cannot do that!” insisted Freyn.

“You must!” replied Hayley, “for you and for your people! They will raise this place and burn your children alive! I am nearly spent. In any case they will not find me alive. Freyn, promise me you will leave me here.”

At last the queen nodded her head, accepting what she knew to be true. “I promise,” she said.

“I have loved you, dear one,” said Hayley.

“And I you,” replied the queen.

Then the old man turned his attention to Gail and Arlen. “Pirate,” he said, his voice rasping. He choked, and spat out blood. “The sword…”

Arlen brought the Sword of Anne Gretnert from his back in a fluid motion, and presented it to the old man. “Keep it,” said Hayley. “And bring it when you may to lord Gretnert, or return it to Vestrodge.”

Arlen nodded his acceptance of the charge. “Thank you,” he said, “for everything.”

At last Hayley addressed Gail. With a feeble movement of his good arm he beckoned her closer. She came, kneeling beside Freyn.

“I am sorry,” said her grandfather. “I have made many promises to you, and now I leave them all unfulfilled.”

Gail had nothing to say in response, so she took Hayley’s hand and held it. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked into the battered face, and saw pain there.

“Don’t stop,” Hayley went on. “…not ever. You will find a way… they will need you now. They will all need you…” He broke into a series of coughs, each one more shallow than the last. When at last he caught his breath his eyes were unfocused, and his body relaxed. “Spektare,” he said with his last breath. Then he died.

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Further Notes

My editing endeavors have brought me, thanks to a day off work, to the reordering of event around the coming to Kanedon, the invasion of Carn (still in search of a new name there) and the death of Hayley (was Hasnove). Namely that the last now comes after the first, with Gail being in the school of the Geldrins when Craharn is invaded.

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Aside

I’ve brought Gail from Soptrod across the bay, into Oomar, and subsequently through Greatwood and over the Dividing Range – nearly to Kanedon. This is thanks in part to having removed much of the unnecessary Khalad drama, and also in part to having dramatically shifted the geography so that the distance between Oomar and Kanedon is greatly decreased.

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Act One – Scene Twelve : Enter our Villains

Here’s a quick update on the Fall of NaRasch.
I’m still working out of the previously “unnamed Bandet town” (now Soptrod or ‘The Swamp’), writing a touchy bit concerning a flight in the dark. I’ve swapped out racist Bandets for a ship from NaRasch hunting rumors after the capture of a Vessergen Hunter in the Legionair of Arme. I thought that a couple hundred soldiers led by a dozen Black Watch might make a better story than a surprise attack from hiding faceless nameless Bandets. But all this is more easily explained than executed. I’ll be adding the Der Anjet (previously Deloronge – this isn’t France after all) into this chapter as well. An escape by sea seamed more plausible when teaming up with Pirates.

In other matters I’m still hunting for a replacement name for the Duragon. My best canidate so far, taking into my added knowledge of their origins, and the history of the Boggle before them, is “Mortas Drokodon”. This would be the name given by Silence, translating to “Those who Hunt in the Battle” or more loosely “War Monsters”. For the Purposes of the Irithol and within The Fall of NaRasch I’d probably just go with “Drokod” or “Drokodon” when necessary (possibly plural).

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Act One – Scene Eleven: Public Image


Well there you have it – tentatively the new cover for the Fall of NaRasch. Input, as always, is welcome, though it should be noted that due to the wonderful amount of spam that arlenbresh.ca has been attracting I’ve disabled comments from non-members. Membership is free and only takes a moment. You can log in over this way –>>> somewhere, or on the front page.

In other news, I’ve just gotten my new printer. It’s an Okidata B411 laser printer and so far it’s phenomenal. It spits out 35 pages per minute and I can print at 1.7 cents per page with the stock 88 dollar cartridges. I won’t be able to calculate the rates when I start refilling my own cartridges, but it’ll be pennies on the dollar. I’ll have my cost per book under 5 dollars, as opposed to the 12.50 that I used to pay to my publisher per copy. Now all I need is a stack paper cutter capable of handling 300+ pages, and a finished manuscript to publish.

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Act One – Scene Ten: In which ice cream learns to melt when children cry

Here is a continuation from scene eight. For those of you still in posession of the original copy of ‘Garawain’ let me know how you think it compares to the original (p.161 Garawain)

Gail stumbled from her bed, finding as she did so that she already grasped Maroward in her hand. She pulled away the sheath, letting it fall by her bed, and ran to find Anne. The others were getting up and frantically searching for their weapons, and Gail could see the surprise on their faces and knew that they had no premonition of danger. Only Hayley seemed undisturbed by the sudden alarm. When Freyn and her guards moved to join with the Elemental he called them back.

“Stay, queen of Kanedon,” he commanded. “This enemy is beyond your weapons. Do not put yourself in danger tonight. Stand aside with me, but send your loose tongued warrior to assist them in my place.”

Freyn checked her pace, and along with Equin she went to join her grandfather. Alken, without need for further command, went to stand with Anne Gretnert and the Princess of Gaeline.

The Paladin was as of yet nowhere to be seen, but Gail could feel him; that was the closest she could come to explaining the throbbing sense in her mind. She knew about where he was, and felt certain that already he could see her, so she stood tall, defiantly.

“Kanedon,” Anne said, hardly glancing over her shoulder as Alken came up. “Run forward to the great tree just there,” she pointed. “Hide on this side of it, and when he passes by see if you cannot cut out the legs of his horse. Then run for your life.”

Alken ran forward. The tree Anne had indicated was about fifty meters forward of their position. He came to it and stood with his back to the trunk, his eyes locked on the Elemental. She meanwhile had turned to Gail.

“Are you ready?” she asked. Gail nodded. “I will be just behind you,” said Anne. “You must hold his attention. Give me a chance to surprise him.” Then she backed up several paces, leaving Gail standing alone in the dark. “Look to your sword for the vision you require,” whispered Anne from somewhere near behind her.

Then all grew silent. Gail felt her heart pounding in hear ears like a noisy drum, and tried to calm herself. She thought of Maroward that had been with her for so long now over so many long journeys, and all of a sudden her mind flashed back to the day when she had gone with Avorier into the second chain gate, and a strange bald-headed boy had stared her down and repeated the question of the Lord Gretnert. It was not an encounter she had recalled in a long time. Indeed, she had not given much thought to it, and it had faded from memory. But now it came back, awoken from some dark corner to run free again over her mind. ‘Why have you got my sword?’ The boy had asked. Or had it been the boy? Had he merely been repeating the words of another as when he quoted Anne’s father? Why was she thinking of all this now, when she should be concentrating on the confrontation ahead of her?

“Anne?” Gail called softly.

“I’m here,” said the Elemental.

“What’s a Spektare?” asked the Princess without looking back.

There was a pause. “It means ‘expected one’ in the old language of Gaeline,” replied Anne. “But it fell into misuse long ago. A prophecy came to the Irithol of the one foretold whom they might expect to come and overcome the monsters; the Spektare.”

“So it’s you then?”

“Perhaps for tonight,” said Anne. “But I could only be called a Spektare, where they will still await the coming of the Spektare at the end of their order. Look to the sky, Queen; he is coming.”

Gail’s grip tightened on her sword, and the words of the spirit flowed over her mind, colliding and becoming mixed with the words of the Elemental. With an effort she cleared her head, bringing herself back to reality and the weapon in her outstretched hand. “What have I got here?” she asked herself.

The response was instantaneous. The sword sprung to life, the blue light from the stones in the blade flashing out and then growing to fill the entire length, transforming steel into a cold shimmering surface. In a moment in built to a peak, and rushed up the blade and shot into her arm, going straight to her head. It set fire to the inside of her body, burning out the cold and setting its forceful barrier within her skin. Then her senses reacted. She could feel the passing of the wind over her hands and face, and hear the crunch of snow under Anne’s boots behind her. She smelt the pine forest, and saw the darkness before her grow grey. The figure of Alken against the tree stood out like a bright flame in the night, as did the Elemental behind her. She could not see Anne, but yet she could perceive her. She could also perceive the Paladin, a little way off, dropping from the sky, through the trees into the forest.

His sword was already drawn, and as his mail clad steed hit the earth the world about him erupted in flame for ten meters or so. Rock, snow, or tree trunk; all burned in the sudden inferno. The cry of the horse came to Gail’s ears, but not so much as the malice extended to her from its rider. She saw him now as she had not before, and no darkness could hide him. Their eyes locked and she stepped out to meet him.

“Hello Leordon,” said Gail. It was with great effort that she spoke, for when she tried her voice nearly cracked for the fear she felt when she saw his eyes. “I did not expect to find you here.”

“I imagine you did not,” replied the Paladin. “You supposed you had outrun me? The foolish have often thought so.”

Gail let Maroward hand loose at her side, though every instinct told her to raise it. Her mind raised, looking for the words she needed to speak. “I don’t see any reason why there should be contention between you and me,” she said. “I see that we are not so different, you and I. What do you say, Leordon? Shall we cast away our sticks and forget our quarrel? Would you not rather live in peace?”

“Peace?” he asked, and there was a breaking in his voice. “I have not known peace in many years.” Then his face hardened, and the Paladin spoke. “Cheap words,” he hissed. “I am called Paladin! I bring fire and fear!” The sword came up, and a great explosion of flame came from it, lighting the trees above his head.

“I had not addressed you, talisman,” said Gail angrily. “Be silent and let your master speak.”

“Master?” it asked, the voice hard and full of hate. “I am master of all this world! The Irith I do not suffer to speak; neither should I suffer you!”

“I doubt that very much,” said Gail with the best sneer she could manage. “Leordon, my friend, these games grow old. Must I waste words with this cudgel more?”

The Paladin let out a roar, and flames sprang from every part of him. Gail had struck a nerve. The horse broke into a gallop, coming on toward her. Then her heart froze and she could not make herself move.

The Kanedonian warrior behind his tree had been positioned about half way between Gail and her enemy. Now as the Paladin passed by, he leapt out at the signal of Anne Gretnert, bringing his long sword around in a mighty swing aimed at the steed’s legs. The timing was perfect. For all his speed the Paladin had no time to react. Though by all appearances the horse was not harmed, it lost its footing and fell headlong, throwing its rider. He however landed on his feet. His advance was not broken, but his grip on Gail was. She breathed again, and raised Maroward toward him in challenge.

But even as the gap between them closed, Anne Gretnert ran past the Gaelic Princess, and came between her and her enemy. Her eyes were bright, and from her dagger came a blinding light. The Paladin checked his advance, startled by the appearance of the Elemental, but even as he swung for her she dodged beneath his sword. Her empty hand wrapped about him beneath his arms, and she hit him in the gut with her shoulder. The force of the attack was many times more than might have been expected from her small figure. Leordon was thrown off his feet, and he landed flat on his back. Even as he fell, Anne raised her other hand with the dagger, and thrust it through his armor into his neck. It buried to the hilt, and the Paladin let out a hideous scream.