Sunday Sample - Birth of the Dragon Lord

This is just a little bit of a medium length story I started but haven't finished yet regarding the birth, life, and death of the last of the old Dragon Lords.
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When he was born, he was given no name.  His mother was told to kill him.  Geir wanted no competition for the sons from his previous mate.  Kajsa could not bring herself to kill her own child.  She carried him to a place where she knew other Terathen were known to congregate, hoping another woman would take him in.  If not, it would be up to the gods to either preserve him or take him back until a woman could be found to bear him again.

Varrdra was agitated.  Her mate had abandoned her and their eggs and now she was forced to leave them unprotected to hunt.  She heard a strange noise, one unfamiliar in these hunting grounds.  She looked around and found herself nose to nose with an infant who still smelled of the birthing blood.  Varrdra hissed angrily.  What mother would abandon a normal child such as this one to the mercy of the gods?

Varrdra shifted to Terathen form.  She lifted the infant into her arms.  The young orange dragon spun magic to create a waterskin full of milk for him.  She would have to do something else soon because the magically created stuff was not as good for him as real milk would be.  But she needed something to calm the raging hunger and quiet him down.

She returned to her cave to find another dragon waiting for her.  Her hackles went up.  She set the child down.  “Peace, Varrdra.  I saw you leave and knew you wouldn’t want anything to happen to your eggs,” Erilis, Varrdra’s nesting sister, said.  “But why are you in that form?”

“Someone left a child to die in the elements, an infant not even cleaned of the birthing blood,” Varrdra said.  “I can see nothing wrong with the infant, so someone cast him away for a petty reason and I won’t see him die for want of a loving mother.”

“How will you tend to him and your eggs?  You don’t have a mate to hunt for you and you can’t remain in Terathen form if you wish to protect your eggs,” Erilis said.

“She doesn’t have to.”  Arden, one of the last of the storm dragons, glided in for a landing near the cave.  He lowered his head submissively to the two females as a way of showing he meant no harm.  “I too heard the infant cry and followed to see where you would take him.  I can hunt for you, if you will tend to the infant, and I will help provide food for the hatchlings when they break free of their shells.”

“Why would you do this?” Erilis asked as Varrdra hissed a little at the strange male.

“My kind are dying out,” Arden said.  “There are too few of us, and so many of our hatchlings die because of the other chromatic dragons that we cannot breed fast enough to keep ourselves alive.”

“So why are you offering to help me?” Varrdra said.  “I’m a chromatic dragon.”

“You are an outcast because of your mate,” Arden said.  “It is well known among us who choose to nest so far from the central range.”

Varrdra ducked her head as she placed the sleeping infant in a hollow quickly lined with some fabric from her hoard.  It was true she’d chosen to mate with a green dragon.  But he’d abandoned her when she wouldn’t let him devour the eggs.  He said he’d rather the eggs were destroyed than see half-breed dragons born. 

Varrdra was also not the only chromatic dragon to settle out of the central range.  There were others who’d chosen mates from the different colors or, in the case of three dragons she knew of, completely different species of dragons.  There were two who were mated to storm dragons, and one who had actually gone to the Dragon Isles and returned with a young gemstone dragon in tow as his mate.

Once the infant was settled into place, Varrdra resumed her natural form.  The light gleamed off of her orange scales as she turned to Arden.  “You will provide food for me and my hatchlings, and you will help me find food for the little one?” she asked.

“I will,” Arden said.  He gave her a typical draconic grin.  “I am something of an outcast myself, since I seem to be lacking in the natural defenses of my kind.”

“You don’t have the storm guard?” Erilis asked.

“No storm guard, and my lightning is weak,” Arden said.  “I am pure storm dragon which confuses many and makes them wonder if it is not the will of the gods that we are dying out.”

Varrdra snorted.  “More likely too much breeding with nest siblings and not enough breeding with others,” she said.  “New blood keeps the bloodlines strong.”

Sunday Sample - Scat and the witch hunters

Another scene from Only A Name.  Still pretty rough since it only had a basic edit on it.  But again it shows what kind of world Scat and the boys are coming from.
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Scat spit at him, hoping to hit his face.  She succeeded only in hitting his boots.  He laughed, and drew the now dirty boot back.  He kicked her in the mouth.  Scat spit blood and teeth as her head rocked back on her neck.  She blinked as stars once again clouded her vision.

“Don’t think that I intend to keep you alive any longer than it takes me to pry the information out of you,” Shiny Boots said conversationally as he wiped his boot none-too-gently off on her shoulder.  “You’re worth more to me dead but the information you have is virtually priceless.”  He and the other guard walked off.

“Scat, you okay?” Colwyn asked.

Scat spit blood again.  “Bastard just knocked a couple teeth out,” she said.  “I’ll live.  How about you?”
“Trussed up like a pig for the slaughter but alive for now.  Manus is unconscious and they dragged Kieran off a while ago,” Colwyn said.  “My guess is that’s him we’re hearing.”

“These the same bastards that got Dermot?” Scat asked.

“The one voice, the guy who just kicked you, sounds very familiar,” Colwyn said.  “This probably is the same group.”

“So, any thoughts on how we’re supposed to get out of here?” Scat asked.

Colwyn lowered his voice.  “How are you for magic?” he asked.

Scat winced.  “Not good, Col,” she said, lowering her voice as well.  “Summoning without any kind of preparation takes a lot of energy.  I already used up a significant portion of my magic tending to the sick.  Everything I had left went into destroying the house.”

“Damn,” Colwyn said.  “I’m about tapped out too from rescuing Dermot.”

“No one is expecting us, are they?” Scat asked.

“We weren’t even supposed to be in this area.  We tracked the bastards that captured Dermot nearly a sennit before we rescued him,” Colwyn said.

It was what he didn’t say that worried Scat.  Without her magic, or outside help of some kind, there was a strong chance that none of them would be getting out of this alive.  Neither Manus nor Kieran held even a fraction of the potential that Scat and Colwyn did.  With both of them still suffering mage drain, there was little they’d be able to do.

Scat tested the ropes she was tied with.  The way the rope along her back was connected there wasn’t much chance she would be able to work her hands free.  As she tried to shift her position she discovered that the ropes were around her knees as well as her ankles.  “Damn,” she muttered.  “This isn’t how I planned on leaving Hilstgate.”

Colwyn snorted.  “This isn’t how I planned on seeing you again,” he said.

“Depending on how – thorough – they are, I might be able to pull enough of the low magic out of the area,” Scat said.  “But that also depends on if they’ve got mages of their own too.  Any mage will be able to sense what I’m doing and move to block it.  Too many times and it won’t take them long to figure out which one of us is casting the magic.”

“They don’t seem to know that I’ve got magic,” Colwyn said.  “They keep referring to you as a witch, though.”

“That makes me think that they’ve had contact with someone in the city who’s seen me work,” Scat said.

One of the guards chose that moment to come over.  He kicked them both in the side.  “No talking,” he said.  “Or the next time it’ll be your jaws we break.”  When he was satisfied the two of them were sufficiently cowed he wandered off.

How close are we to Hilstgate, Scat wondered.  There are those in the city who wouldn’t stand for this if they saw it.  But we’d have to be pretty damned close for us to get out of this with help from the city guard.  Unless – and now Scat began to wonder if she’d been too injudicious with her power use – it was one of the city guard who’d helped get them caught.

Scat risked a small probe along the lines of power she could sense humming just beneath the surface of the ground.  If this group did have a mage they’d try to trace the probe.  As low as her power was there was a good chance they wouldn’t know it was from her.

Something emerged from the dark, striking hard against the side of her head.  Scat cried out in pain.  “No magic, witch,” a voice snarled in her ear.  “Or the next time it’ll be your head I take off and to hell with my lord and his conspiracies.”

That’s…I know that voice, Scat thought dazedly.  “Eamon?”

A squat, ugly beast of a man settled down on his haunches in front of her.  “Thought you’d seen the last of me, did you, Mistress Kellyn?” he sneered.  “Should’ve left me to die.  Now I’m cursed because you used your witchcraft to save me.”  He moved and Scat was able to see by the fire that the arm she’d so carefully reconstructed was mangled beyond repair.  “Had to have it broken again just so I could get rid of your taint.”

“Take yourself elsewhere, witch hunter,” Shiny Boots said, coming over to check on the prisoners.

“She was trying to use magic,” Eamon said.  “I was just telling her that was a stupid idea.”

“I said leave,” Shiny Boots said.  “I know you want to kill her, and I won’t allow that until after I’ve gotten my questions answered.”  Eamon slouched off.  “Do not try any of your tricks again, witch, or I will let Eamon play with you.  He owes you quite a lot, from what he tells me.”

“I saved his arm and his life,” Scat said.

“You should’ve left him to die then,” Shiny Boots said.  “It would have saved you a lot of trouble.  Though it wouldn’t have saved you from me.”  The lord wandered off again, leaving Scat alone in the dark with her thoughts.

Scat dozed fitfully, woken several times by Kieran’s cries as he was systematically tortured for information.  From what she could tell, Kieran wasn’t budging and this was making their captors very angry.  She caught Colwyn’s hurried whisper to Manus to keep silent.  Then she slipped into unconsciousness again.

Sunday Sample - Scat meets the boys

Well, I decided I'd give this a shot too.  I'm answering the #samplesunday challenge on Twitter.  This is an early scene from Only A Name.  It's only gone through a basic revision and a spelling/grammar check.  So it's still a little rough.  But I wanted to show that I am making some progress on this thing.  :)

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Scat dozed a little but was woken up by the sound of men and horses.  She opened her eyes as the guards swarmed the little camp where her friends were sleeping.  Spade was kicked awake.  Hawk was on his knees with a sword at his throat while Bay stood off to the side.  “Where be Scat, Spade?” Bay asked.

Spade spat onto the ground.  The guard that kicked him grabbed him by the hair and hauled him up to his knees.  “There are only a few landmarks the girl could follow,” the soldier holding Spade said.  “The mountains and the river.  She won’t find any safety along either route.  No place, not even the temples, are safe against the Emperor’s decree.”

“What do we do with these three?” the man with his sword at Hawk’s throat asked.

“Kill them,” the first guard said.

“Ye said I would be spared.”  Bay started backing away.  The third guard kicked his feet out from under him and twisted his arm up behind his back.

“We’ll spare you a death by torture, for that’s what you’d get at the hands of your former master,” the first man said with a bloodthirsty grin.  “We’ll give you a merciful passing here.”

Off to the side, hidden beneath the bushes, Scat pressed both hands to her mouth to keep from being sick.  She watched as the man holding Spade drew his sword.  He raised the blade high and brought it down with considerable strength.  The sound of the metal as it sheared through flesh and bone was something the child would never forget.  Blood spurted wildly out of Spade’s neck as his head bounced and rolled a little to one side.  The body fell forward, blood spraying out across the guards’ boots.

Hawk was next.  He closed his eyes and waited the blow with the same courage Spade showed.  His head hit a rock and bounced a little higher, coming to land only a handspan away from Spade’s lifeless body.

Bay fought back.  He punched and kicked, trying to get away from his attackers.  Spade’s killer lunged forward with a dagger and slit his throat.  Bay choked, gasping and clutching at his neck.  He tried to stop the blood but it escaped from beneath his fingers.  When at last his body was still, they cut his head off as well.  All three heads were shoved into a sack.  The bodies the guards left where they’d fallen.

“Think we should go looking for the child?” Hawk’s executioner asked.

“As small as she is, she’s not worth the silver or the effort,” Spade’s executioner said.  “She’s dead no matter what.”  He led his horse away from the bodies, and his men followed suit.

Scat stayed as still as possible until she was positive she couldn’t hear them any longer. The entire forest around where she hid was too quiet.  The horror of what had just occurred had silenced even the normal nocturnal inhabitants of the area.  The stench of blood and death overwhelmed her and she threw up what little was in her stomach.

Scat turned away from the bodies.  Spade had said to head to the river but it was still too dark for her to see the path clearly.  She would go carefully and make sure she had somewhere to hide just in case someone else was on the road.

She looked around.  The large, dark shape off to her right was a patch of the same berry bushes Spade told her to avoid eating.  There was just enough room beneath them for her to hide without a chance of being seen.  Her feet were raw and bleeding again.  She bit her lip to keep from making any sound.  Her left leg buckled beneath her as an old injury stole her strength.  With the pain came the clearest memory she had of her childhood.  She closed her eyes, clinging to that memory instead of the horror in front of her now.

She was falling.  She wasn’t home with her parents, but she was falling.  The hill beneath her was rocky and crumbled beneath her even as she fell.  Her body impacted the hard packed earth that served as the road near her family’s home.  She screamed as her leg snapped.  Blood oozed from where her bone tore through flesh.  “Mama!  Mama!”  Someone called to her from the darkness, a name that she no longer remembered.  But she knew the voice wasn’t her mother’s.  “Mama!”  


Then horses, and men, and more pain.  Then, finally, darkness.  When she woke again, she was in a place with other children.  All of them were chained.  Many were crying, but even more were silent.  Her left leg was wrapped tight with bandages and held immobilized with wood.  Someone commented on her being lame, and how that would lower her price.  She was in the slave market and her number was soon to be up on the block.

Scat blinked as tears, long unshed, trickled down her cheeks.  She crawled under the berry bush.  Ignoring the shudder of revulsion at the thought of sharing sleeping space with spiders, Scat curled up into a ball and closed her eyes.  Shock and fear took their toll and soon Scat fell into a nightmarish dream.

“Ignorant, blind, idiotic fools!”  Scat was awakened by the sound of a young voice shouting.

“Col, keep it down.  They might still be around,” another voice cautioned.

“The blood’s clotted,” a third voice said in a calm voice.  “They’ll be long gone, Kieran.  With their bloody prizes clutched tight in their greedy fists.”

“We don’t know that,” the second voice, the one that Scat thought might be Kieran, said angrily.

“Manus is right, Ky,” the first voice said.  “If the blood’s clotted this happened some time yesterday or last night.”

 “Looks like someone came on the bodies before us, Colwyn,” the third voice – the one called Manus – said.  “See here?”

“Probably never saw a headless corpse before,” Colwyn sighed.

“We’ll be seeing a lot more of these,” Kieran said.  “What with the usurper’s edict and all.  He’s paying in silver what the Emperor is paying for in gold.”

“The temples offer no protection anymore either for those of us touched by the goddess,” Colwyn said.  “Even the river god’s shrine has turned a blind eye to the killings.  They won’t raise a hand to save anyone fleeing the purge.”

Kieran snorted.  “Is this another one of the goddess’ so-called blessings?”

“No,” Colwyn said.  “It’s a murderous bastard’s way of stealing power that’s not rightly his.”

“We’d better get back to camp, Col,” Manus said.  “We need to report this.”

Scat intended to let the boys pass by and then head for the river.  But a forest spider, irritated by the large creature blocking her from her web, took that moment to express her displeasure in a most painful – and potentially fatal – way.  Scat shrieked and rolled out of the bushes as the large grey spider bit down hard on her hand.

The boys whirled around, swords drawn.  Scat paid no heed to them as she tried to shake the spider from her rapidly swelling hand.  “Goddess save him,” Colwyn said, sheathing his sword.  “Manus, get the paste.  Kieran, help me get that damn thing off his hand.”

“Right,” Kieran said grimly.  Colwyn caught Scat as she flailed around and held her as Kieran got out his dagger.  Colwyn held her arm in a vice like grip as Kieran slid his dagger between her flesh and the spider.  The wet pop of the fangs was very audible.  Scat screamed again.

Manus came up with a small jar of paste, which he smoothed liberally over the wound.  Scat tore herself free from the boy’s grip.  Her terror sent her heart racing.  The spider’s venom sped through her body, carried by her blood and the feverish pounding of her heart.  She didn’t even realize she was unconscious until her body hit the unyielding earth.