Mewl

Mewl ... in temporary place ... staying with inlaws - want to write - no chance - mewl ... move in on Sunday :) yayayayayay

HOOK

The Blood of Es
by Rhease Linnell.

Not even the dragons had heeded the goddess’ warning. Now they are dead.

Mistaking Her warning for a threat, Davyl has done his utmost to protect those that he loves. In so doing, he imprisons Her and taps too deeply into the power of Es itself. Warped by powers he cannot control the Chief Druid breaks the veil between the world of the living and that of the dead.

A band of peaceful nomads are drawn unwillingly into the fray by the machinations of the faeries, desperate to save their land, and they join Jayth as he searches for the lost dragons. They soon come to realise that they must enlist the help of the dark fire god, Koto. They must be careful, for Koto’s agenda has always been destruction.

But Koto is the counterweight to light. Without him, there cannot be balance.

Synopsis So Far

The book begins with a prologue that describes how a bard named Jayth learns of a warning given by the goddess about an impending war. He travels straight to the dragons to pass on the warning as it concerns their death before going on to Eserett, the home of the druids.
The first chapter then picks up the story three hundred years later. Crayl is a novice about to graduate from Eserett. He learns that the Chief Druid, Davyl, is planning a politically dangerous mining operation in a neighbouring land and that Davyl’s second-in-command is spying on him for the neighbouring Koto cult. Crayl informs Davyl in the hope that the Chief Druid will take him on as his apprentice.
The second chapter reveals some of the backstory through the dreams of the goddess. She has been enchanted by Davyl into believing that She is imprisoned. The story then continues with Crayl learning more of Davyl’s plans. Crayl embarks on a mission on behalf of Davyl where he is forced to kill a man. Hamus, Crayl’s mentor, discovers a dead body. It is clear that Davyl is responsible. His friend Jayth, the bard from the prologue, advises caution.
The nomadic Wise Ones of Myrfing are then introduced. Krame takes on a pupil, Ahnes, and a Koto priest is washed up on the shore. The priest clearly has an evangelical agenda.
Crayl is taken to see the goddess and Davyl commissions an assassin to kill the craftsmen he used to create a magical prison. The goddess is manipulated into attempting to escape the spell she is under. It is a trick and she ends up inside the magical prison Davyl has had made.
Back in Myrfing, the Koto priest attempts to teach them about his faith and Ahnes goes on an Otherworldly journey where he encounters the Faeries. They tell Ahnes about their fears for the goddess. They explain that they believe it is only through a simultaneous blood-sacrifice of both a human and a Faery that the goddess can be freed and balance returned to the land.
Crayl and Hamus begin their journey to Calbridge, Hamus’ home. Jayth accompanies them with a troublesome young druid names Taerys.
Yren and Rhu are then introduced. Rhu is an ovate and together with Yren is looking for the goddess. They live amongst the Koto cult and witness Koto Himself being transported.
Hamus and Jayth are forced to leave Calbridge because of Crayl. They travel north to visit an old wizard by the lakes. There they learn of the goddess’ captivity and of the death of the magical craftsmen.
Hamus and Jayth race back to Eserett, unaware that it is Davyl that is cause of the trouble. Rhu and Yren are

Hmm

I know it's short, but is that chapter any good? I shall re-examine it later. The next chapter returns to the goddess and the characters from this chapter will enter that one!

Hmm

Chapter Six

The sun, when it eventually decided to arrive, did little to warm the halls of Eserett. Druids and novices alike were reluctant to leave the comfort of their beds.
The Psilo priests rubbed their hands in glee, knowing full well how easy their task would be today. The night’s rain coupled with a dry morning would mean a simple dawn harvest.
They chased each other out to the waiting boats, eager to reach the Flats. They did not notice that one of their boats was missing for they had several that were spare.
Nothing could slow them this morning, even when they found Taerys quietly sitting on the end of the pier. The young druid had his eyes closed and his robes were sodden but his face was as peaceful as if he were wrapped up in bed with a mountain of feather pillows to call his own.
Some of the younger priests chuckled as they rowed south to the Flats. They knew that Taerys was to be sent away to Pointrell. They just wished that they too could be with naked women. Anywhere. It didn’t have to be in the corridors.
That was just showing off.

*

Crayl met her by the door to the east tower.
“Well,” he said. He looked miserable. “That went well.”
“He is very pleased with you, Crayl.” She put her arm around his waist and kissed his cheek.
“I’m really tired,” he said. “Does he ever borrow from you?”
“Not so much anymore. Don’t you feel closer to him for it?”
“I suppose so. I feel like he’s watching me all the time, if that’s what you mean.”
She nodded in understanding. “I felt his presence grow stronger each time he used my energy to heal himself. He told me it was the way the magic worked. He said if he absorbed it all, like the dragons used to do, my awareness would continue from within his.”
“Aren’t you afraid he will do that?”
She laughed. “No, that’s something he would never do.”
“How do you know?”
“Can’t you feel his mind? He only wants what is best for us. For all of our kind.”
“Yes.” Crayl pushed his hand back through his hair. He did not sound entirely convinced. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am. Don’t you see how important this is? What Davyl is trying to achieve? It’s Hamus you should be wary of. He’s the one consorting with the dark gods.”
“The dark gods? Hamus? Oh, I don’t think so; you’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I? Surely you know about Koto. Have you not noticed how much Feymell has changed? Of course not, you’re from the west. My parents are dead because of Koto. Rounded up and executed by the priests: sacrificed to Him because their daughter practices magic.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. She had pulled her arm away and was glaring at him, her bosom heaving angrily.
“Davyl can stop them. He needs our help to do it, but you would deny him that? You would stop the one man that can save the rest of Camelson from the fate of my parents?”
“No, of course not. I just don’t understand. Last night …”
“Last night,” she said, putting a finger to his lips, “was last night. We did what needed to be done.” She looked around and took his hand in hers. “Come with me. Quietly.”

*

Davyl ran his hand over the finely planed wood of the chest. The smooth curve of the lid had been constructed according to his precise instructions and he had commissioned it from the very best of the Wild Ones.
The girl had done well to bring it here. He knew he could trust her to deal with the traders. But the Wild Ones would require a little more experience.
“You have the money here?”
Davyl smiled. “I can arrange for the bullion to be delivered to your vessel in Camstead.”
The man nodded. “Very well.”
“You will report back to me when your task is completed.”
“I will be back in a fortnight.”
Davyl sighed. “I hope to be gone from here by that time. If you can return to me in a week there will be a bonus for you.”
“Impossible. Without knowing precisely where they are I cannot guarantee that I will find them so easily.”
“I will double your fee.”
The man paused for a beat. “Double?”
Davyl nodded.
“I will see what I can do.”

*

Taerys waited until the sound of the priests’ oars slapped out of earshot before getting to his feet. He felt light-headed and steadied himself on a wooden mooring post. His warm pipe dropped through the slats and into the choppy water.
“By the goddess,” he muttered.
Although his hands and feet were cold, his inner fire had been blazing all night and he was comfortably warm. His years on the southern continent of Au’karia had not been entirely misspent.
He listened to the sound of his boots beating on the pier, enjoying how they were hushed into silence by the surf. He had been thrilled by the change of direction in the wind during the night and had watched as the heavy rain clouds were pushed back up towards Myrfing.
The sun had crested the horizon to the chorus of hundreds of birds. He had witnessed the first flocks take to their wings, the dark clouds formed by their bodies creating patterns made only more beautiful by their brevity.
He reached the end of the pier and hopped down onto the slippery rocks that had only recently been uncovered by the retreating tide and began to make his way around the island.
He had not been back for long and today he was to be forced to leave again.
Au’karia had been a land of extremes. At it’s centre was a desert, humbling in the enormity of its aridness. Taerys had trekked across one part of the red sands and had survived only because he had been accompanied by one of the mystics.
The hazards of the crossing had forged a deep friendship and the mystic had taken Taerys under his wing. They had continued together to the southernmost coast where glaciers rose miles into the sky, snow fell in blizzards so heavy that progress had been impossible at the height of the storms, and the barren rocks had been habitable by only one creature besides wizards.
Beside him the wall of Eserett rose up high into the sky. At the top of the wall there was a guard. He realised he must be close to Davyl’s chambers.
Taerys wished that the old druid had not sent him away. Still, he had learned to let wishful thinking go while thirsting in Au’karia.
“Why wish for water?” the mystic had said, the skin on his nose peeling in the harsh desert sun. “There isn’t any. Once every thirty years or so there’s the odd bit of rain. The whole place turns green, then. Rest of the time, it’s dead. No, don’t waste your time with wishing, mate. Look, I’ll show you. See here, under this rock? That’s a grub, that is. Good eating on one of them. That’s the only place you’ll find water. Them and the snakes.”
Taerys thought of the journey ahead. Pointrell was just the other side of the Moors. While moorlands held their own dangers, they at least were not short of water.
He found himself chuckling quietly and he had to sit down, resting his back against a rock worn smooth by the impact of the waves.
Presently, he heard voices.
“Well,” a young man said. “That went well.”
The young ones did not talk for long and he was glad when they left. He still remembered being a novice; how the fate of the world had seemed to sit on his shoulders.
But they had talked of Davyl as if they knew him well. And they had mentioned the dragon’s art of energy sharing.
He was intrigued in spite of himself.
Bowing to the waves, he rose to his feet and poked his head over the boulder. The two youngsters were just disappearing around the curve of the tower.
“Always keep them in your sights,” the mystic had told him once, “but don’t let them see you. Downwind, mate. Downwind and quiet.” This had been while hunting for food. In Au’karia, if your game heard you, there was no dinner.
They were nearing the section of wall where Davyl’s window looked out on the Divide when it happened. Taerys had ducked his head for a moment, aware that the novices were beginning to look around.
He peaked over the rocks again, thinking that if the youths were just after some time alone he would slip quietly away, but they had gone.
He frowned. Their wet footprints stopped dead on the dry rocks.
It was clear that they were using magic far beyond their years. Taerys began to scry, determined to find them again. They were bound to be up to no good.

Thinking about the chest

I've been thinking about the chest that Umielle has been tasked to obtain. I figure that Davyl commissioned the crafting of the chest from ovatic WildOnes from the mountains around Pointrell - Umielle was also tasked to kill them as Davyl wanted noone but his accolytes to know about it. In fact, only Umielle was to know about it but as Crayl has provided Davyl with energy and killed one of the men they allow him to live.

The chest is to capture the goddess. At the moment she is only caught in a glamour! Umielle tricks her into starting to figure out how to escape the glamour, but tricks her into following the route to the mirror - which leads into the chest.

Yeah. This then enables Davyl to carry the goddess with him everywhere and use her energy to further strengthen himself.

Sounds good to me :)

Prologue

The boy watched Jayth fill his pipe, a mixture of curiosity and amusement on his face. It was well known that the wandering magicians indulged more regularly than was normally accepted, but the boy had never seen a pipe lit in daylight before.
The other children had already left to play, their happy voices drifting over the pillow mounds and merging with the chuckling sound of water.
It was late afternoon and the air was cooling rapidly towards dusk. The faint smell of the wood fires infused the air all about the small moorland village. The moon was already high in the sky, its pale face smiling benignly down on the pastoral scene.
Jayth’s dark brown hair was cut short to the scalp, revealing the glistening silver ring embedded in the flesh of his ear. A tattoo radiated from the crown of his head to form a pleasing pattern that reached round to his strong cheekbones. It was common for the druidic caste to sport these designs, evidence of their rites of passage.
As Jayth ignited the long clay pipe with a softly muttered incantation, the boy wondered how best to phrase his question. He did not want to insult the bard, but his curiosity had yet to be blunted by the repetitious nature of farming.
“Why were her robes blue?” he asked at last.
Jayth narrowed his eyes. This question was unexpected. He turned to look at the small child, an appraising look on his face.
“I mean,” the boy continued, pulling at a tuft of grass by his feet, “you sang about the Lady in a silvery dress, but when she answered your call she was in blue.”
“You saw the Lady?” Jayth asked. He was used to farm boys asking about the bardic life. In fact, it was unusual to visit anyone without at least one child asking him to take them to Eserett.
With a nod, the boy leant forward and brushed his fingers over the surface of the river. Jayth noted the faint sparkle of light that swirled in the water beneath the child’s touch and put his pipe to one side. This boy had some magical potential. But how much?
“When did you see her?”
The boy looked up at Jayth and frowned.
“When you called to her, of course.”
Jayth smiled. The child knew nothing. Not even enough to pretend.
“The call was part of the song,” he said. “The other children didn’t see blue.”
“No,” the boy said impatiently. “After the others had left. It wasn’t so much in words, but I did hear you call her. She rose up out of the water just like in the song, only she was in blue and not silver. You sang it wrong.”
Jayth chuckled gently at the accusing tone in the boy’s voice.
“What is your name, child?”
“Burch.”
“Well, Burch, that song is part of an old poem taught to me by my master. You see this symbol?” Jayth pointed at the skin of his drum. It was a beautifully crafted instrument, made for the bard by his teacher a century before. The deer from which the skin had come had been Jayth’s first tracking exercise. He had hunted the animal for five weeks, learning its ways and habits until he was in the perfect place for a clean and painless kill. The skin on one side was bald and onto the hide had been painted a large, simple pattern. “Do you know what it means?”
“It means you’re a bard, right?”
“Well, in a way.”
Jayth drew the symbol in the dirt beside him. Three points, each with a line radiating from beneath. “These are the three drops of inspiration. When I sing it is so that you are inspired. My tale today touched the creative spark inside of you and helped you to imagine a lady dressed in blue.”
“But I didn’t imagine her,” Burch protested. “She spoke to you. Don’t you remember?”
It pained Jayth to hear the Lady insulted in this way, but he knew that the child meant no real harm with his story.
“What did you hear her say?”
Burch copied the bard’s symbol in the dirt as he spoke.
“She said, ‘A red rain is coming that will rouse the branches of the Yellow King. The Stones shall be made to war and in their defeat shall be cracked. Beware the Mother’s coming. As one dead she will enter. With death she will return. The greatest among you will bring your doom. Hope lies only in the Stone’s dark art.’”
Jayth was silent for a moment. The boy’s voice had sounded almost genuinely entranced. It certainly didn’t sound like the make-believe of the young.
“Did she say anything else?”
“You didn’t hear her?”
“No,” Jayth said and shook his head. He looked into the bowl of his pipe. Barely a rub of leaf had blackened. Then why did he feel so unsettled? “Did she say anything else?”
Burch shook his head and wiped away the symbol he had drawn, replacing it with another.
“When she finished talking, she drew this in the air. It hung there for a moment, then faded away as she returned to the water.”
“What colour was the symbol?” Jayth felt a cold shiver inside his heart. The boy could not have made this up.
“It was a dirty green colour. Like a muddy leaf.”
Jayth smoothed the dirt free of their drawings, relit his pipe and rose to his feet. He had hoped to be able to stay at the village over night. This news, however, required immediate action.
“You’d better run along now, Burch. Can you tell the elders that I have had to depart on urgent business?”
“Of course.”
The boy rose and headed back to his village. That he hadn’t asked Jayth to take him to Eserett only heightened Jayth’s unease. The boy paused a short distance away and turned back to the bard.
“What did the Lady mean?”
“I don’t know, Burch.” Jayth looked up and out over the river. “I must ask the dragons.”
Burch nodded.
“Good luck to you, then. Safe journey.”
Jayth watched the child run away over the pillow mounds before taking a folded piece of parchment from his cloak. It was a map of the land and he traced his fingers over the route he must take.
The valley of the dragons was a good day’s walk from here. He would have to hurry.
He folded the map away and finished off his pipe. Following the river eastward, he made good time through the thick forest. As dusk began to fall, Jayth took a handful of dried mushrooms from his pack and lit another pipe.
It was a technique he had learned in his years at Eserett. The isthmus south of that sacred island was the perfect growing ground for the druid’s fungal ally and Jayth had been taught how to make use of their effects to aid in path finding.
It was certainly true that they enhanced his ability to see in the dark, although there were times when he was sure that he was seeing more than was there to see.
By dawn he had found the edge of the forest, the twin peaks of the valley visible at last. Chuckling softly, he wrapped his cloak about himself and settled down beneath a friendly oak to sleep for a couple of hours.
It was nearing mid afternoon when he reached the valley. He continued along the riverbed until he came to the Faery Mound.
Local legends warned folk away from this site, but Jayth knew better than most the true dangers of this valley. The mound itself was a formation caused by the passage of the river over the ages. The granite peaks that rose up to either side of the river posed the greatest risk and it had been up on the heights that his master had met his end.
Jayth stored his pack and drum in the hollow of the mound.
A few paces upriver from here was a short waterfall. The air was filled with a fine spray as the water cascaded over the smoothly worn rocks and into the broad pool at its base. A hawthorn tree stood guard across the bank from where Jayth stood and under its watchful gaze, the bard stripped off his shirt and immersed his head in the cold water.
As the sun began to sink towards the horizon he had a brief meal of bread and a hunk of cheese and then began the long climb up towards Litho Tor, so named for its donation to the ill-fated monuments of the northern plains.
Even in Jayth’s youth, those monuments had been ancient history. Oak Wise men had discovered the remnants of a stone temple in the south east of Myrfing and had attempted to recreate it at the northern reaches of Cragg Moor. The gods, it seemed, had not favoured the geomancers of the time for two successive temples had been swallowed by the marshes within a year of their completion.
By the time Jayth’s training had begun the druids, as the Oak Wise had come to be known, had abandoned megalithic structures in favour of forested groves.
But the dragons had never forgotten the debt owed them or the insult of the druids’ ignorance.
Jayth slipped an ornately filigreed silver ring onto his fourth finger in preparation for communication. Gathering his energies about himself, he drew a circle over the ground with his extended arm and called upon the Bright One for protection. An image of a spinning wheel, the symbol of the Bright One’s presence, flickered at the edge of his vision and he smiled with the confidence that came with the knowledge that She would be watching over him.
The sun touched the horizon and Jayth bowed his head in respect. A heavy movement of air soughed as the granite Tor awoke. Jayth wondered briefly how many folk had walked over the heaped rocks looking for the dragon’s hiding place by day, little suspecting that the Tor itself was the very thing they sought. The ground vibrated as the old earth energy uncoiled and rose up to shriek a melancholy call to its brother across the valley.
Jayth could hear the creaking of giant leathery wings and the clatter of enormously powerful claws on rock. Before the sun had completed its retreat into the Underworld, he was flanked by two of the greatest dragons of the age.
He remained bowed before these colossal powers as they regarded him with curiosity. All about him, Jayth could feel the energies of their enquiries buffeting against the edge of his protective circle. Its perimeter began to blaze incandescently as he sent more power surging out to shield himself from the dragons’ onslaught.
After a few minutes, each one feeling like an age, the maelstrom of the dragons’ interest subsided.
Already Jayth felt exhausted by the effort of remaining separate from the ancient beasts. With a cold shiver of realisation, he knew that should these beings choose to destroy him he would be powerless to prevent it. They were merely toying with his circle, allowing him to feel just a part of their strength.
With one more shriek of indignation that one so weak would dare to intrude on their land, the dragons retreated a few steps and mercifully turned their eyes aside.
“Speak,” Litho Tor hissed, the rotting smell of yesterday’s meal blowing over Jayth’s face.
“Blessings, Great Dragon. I am Jayth, a bard of Eserett. My master was known to you for he joined with you twelve moons ago.”
“Master Green. We recall. Continue.”
Jayth shivered at the memory. To join a dragon meant death. His master had not known this until it had been too late. With a sinking feeling, Jayth began to wonder if this was how Master Green had felt. Confident at first and then defeated at last by the over bearing power of the dragon’s true presence.
“The Lady has issued a warning,” he said, bowing his head lower still. “She appeared westwards on the waters of this river.”
“You think we do not know this?”
“Forgive me, Litho Tor. I am young in my training and my master is no longer here to guide me. I thought only to spread word of the warning for it concerns you as much as it does men.”
The dragon settled down onto its hindquarters and snorted gently. Its brother shrieked in reply, the volume of its voice hurting Jayth’s ears, and launched itself up into the night sky.
“You have done well to come here first. Your master is pleased with you.”
Jayth looked up at last. The dragon’s head was easily fifteen hands high. Its eyes were as big as a man’s head, the fathomless pupils narrow slits in the flecked yellow orbs. But they were not unkind. Litho Tor’s scales were a deep magenta and fitted tightly around its long, coiled neck. The dragon’s wings were folded back above its barbed spine and the tail spread out behind it, disappearing in the dusky gloom.
“Master Green is still with you?”
“Of course,” the dragon said, its hot breath steaming faintly in the moonlight. “Now, what of the Lady? What did you hear?”
“She spoke of a red rain.”
“Her words, please, master bard. Not yours.”
“Of course. ‘A red rain is coming that will rouse the branches of the Yellow King. The Stones shall be made to war and in their defeat shall be cracked. Beware the Mother’s coming. As one dead she will enter. With death she will return. The greatest among you will bring your doom. Hope lies only in the Stone’s dark art.’”
The dragon was silent for a moment, even its breath pausing as it absorbed this news.
“The Lady sees much, but she is limited by her watery domain. We do not fall easily to our end. With strength and cunning we can turn aside this evil. Was there a symbol?”
Jayth drew the symbol at his feet, being careful not to disturb his protective circle.
The dragon shrieked suddenly and Jayth had to clasp his hands to his ears.
“Davyl,” it hissed. “The groves of Eserett must be warned.” The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “But the Lady did not speak to you. We see this in your heart.”
“No. She spoke to a farm boy. He has shown some potential.”
“The boy will be trained?”
Jayth shook his head.
“There was more in this warning,” the dragon continued, “we are certain. Return to the boy. Take him with you to Eserett.”
“He is too old.”
The dragon rose up onto its feet again.
“Your master does not think so. What are a few years of youth to the centuries of your training?”
Jayth shook his head.
“I am still learning, myself.”
“Aren’t we all, master bard? Take him to Eserett. We shall speak with you again.”
“Master.” He bowed his head as the dragon released another loud shriek. It lifted up into the sky and disappeared from sight.
Jayth waited until a blanket of clouds had drifted across the moon before dissolving his circle. He hurried down the side of the hill, retrieved his equipment from the Faery Mound and made his way as fast as he could eastwards.
Eserett was in great peril. This was no time to take on a pupil. The boy could wait.
Far behind him, as the stars revolved gently above, Jayth could hear the shrieks and barks of the dragons.