Bang! Bang! Bang! Clash! Clash! Zzhew!
Whew! A lot of construction is happening on this story. Oh, hello visitor. Hey, characters! Hold it down a minute. We’ve got visitors! (Glare as the noise fades away. Turn to you and smile) Welcome! You’ve successfully arrived at the blog known as The Writings of M. Kelley. I’m the author, M. Kelley. You’ve probably come here expecting a story, right? Well, (grimace) I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we’re currently undergoing a major project. It’s called NaNoWriMo, perhaps you’ve heard of it? Yes? Good, then you know the major undertaking that’s going on here: 50,000 words in 30 days. It’s crazy, but my characters and I are up to the challenge!
(Martin strides up). Hey, Kelley, we’ve got a problem with a part of your plot. As the leader of your character union, I’m asking you to come to a meeting with us your characters about changing it…
(Roll eyes) You characters have too much power, I think. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done. Well, go on. I promise I’ll be there shortly. (Martin rolls his eyes and walks away.) Sorry about him. He’s a bit miffed that I left the story off where I did before our major project. I’m sure you might feel the same, but before I get started on nano, I have to get some other things sorted out…. Like homework…>_>
Anyway, I’m sorry that I can’t stay. My characters and I are going to be extremely busy this November to get nano done. This means that there aren’t going to be any posts this November as we work to reach the 50,000 word mark.
BANG!!!
What was that?! Sorry, got to go. Seems my characters are going to take the plot under their control. I’ve got to rescue it! We’ll be back up and running in December. Make sure to visit us then! (Run off, waving my hands).
Thomas! How many times have I told you to not play with the TNT? Luke, you’re not helping matters either! And Martin! Ugh! It’s supposed to happen and you know it! It’s not going to change!
Bang! Bang! Bang! Clash! Clash! Zzhew!
Friday, October 29, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
His Plan Is...?
Well, I don't think I'll be able to make my goal of finishing The Rebellious Spy before NaNoWriMo. I have too many projects to finish before November starts so I can focus on the story without too much homework getting in the way. But, more explanations later. Let's get on with the story.
***********
The meeting lasted until it was almost dusk. Several times, they addressed him directly to find out some specific information. Martin would just smirk and say he would look into it. There were some questions he knew he wasn’t going to answer, such as the strength of the enemies. He was just one man; he couldn’t explore every inch of the Stand to determine that answer. Besides, the guards watching over the city could probably give a better answer than he could.
But other questions, those he could find out. There were three major questions that were his top priority now. Who did the Seacats form an alliance with? What did these people want? And what was their next plan of attack?
“Hiethery,” Gillian moaned, rubbing the small of his back as the war council finally left his office. “That meeting was too long.”
Martin chuckled. “I second that.” He gazed out the large bay window of the commander’s office. The storm had finally completely passed and revealed a disturbing sight. Ten different warships blocked the harbor, nine hoisting Seacat’s colors, stripes of brown, black, and orange. One ship they could not identify.
Gillian followed Martin’s gaze outside, where two ships could be seen, one of those ships being the uncolored. “Do you suppose the Seacats’ new ally is them?”
“It only makes sense,” Martin muttered. Sighing, he slumped in his chair. “I have a big project ahead of me.”
“Shouldn’t you get started then?”
“I need to know who I’m spying on,” he pointed out. He turned to Gillian. “What do you know of the Seacats? Quite honestly, I thought they were a myth.”
Gillian stood. “How about I answer your questions on the move? I can’t stand sitting for much longer.” Martin shrugged, but stood and joined the commander outside the office. Gillian whispered some command to the guards then started down the corridor.
“I’m not surprised you think Seacats were a myth,” the commander said. “Major seaports have magic wards against them, including Loman. And we didn’t encounter them on our way back from Loman when we brought you here. If you’ve never lived off the coast or sailed the seas enough, I understand how tales of the Seacats can seem…exaggerated.”
Martin snorted. “Well, some of those stories are a bit unbelievable.” The stories always told of barely civilized cat featured humans, whose ships could outrun the wind. Some claimed that the Seacats could jump to inhuman heights to catch moonbeams and use the captured light to seize other ships. Darker stories spoke of Seacats drinking the blood of their captives.
“True,” Gillian sighed. “But there is truth in our tales.” They encountered a group of refugees who looked like they just finished dinner. The commander and spy stepped to the side to let them pass before continuing their conversation.
“How about separating fact from the tales for me?” Martin suggested as they moved on.
“Very well.” Gillian croaked. He coughed. “Talked too much today already.” Coughing again, he managed to regain his voice. “Seacats are part human, part cat, who spend most of their days at sea. They are most active at night.”
“So,” Martin mused, “they’re a lot like normal cats?”
“Yes and no.” The commander turned a corner and started up a set of stairs. “Yes in the sense that they have excellent vision, can hear things us humans can’t, they can smell any ship off a mile off, and their agility is far greater than any human I know.”
“And the no part?”
“A normal cat will back off from a fight after the first couple of blows. Seacats will keep fighting until either they’re victorious or they’re too injured to continue. They enjoy causing slow pain to their victims. While they don’t drink blood, like some stories claim, they do take pleasure in the pain they cause.”
Martin shivered. That sounded too much like some people he knew. “What about their social structure,” he asked. “What’s their chain of command?”
They came to the top of the stairs and Gillian opened a door to the battlements. The commander breathed in the cold sea air, then pointed to one of the warships.
“Each ship is considered a pack,” he explained. “And each ship has one leader. It’s rare for them to create alliances between themselves because their leaders have a tendency to want to lead everyone. However, if what you suggest is true, they’ve been able to pick one Seacat as the liaison with their new ally, and that same Seacat is the unofficial leader for all.
“Whoever their leader is, that Seacat will insist that all information be given to them before anything is decided and they will have the final say.”
“They,” Martin pointed out. “The leader could be either male or female?”
“Yes,” Gillian moaned. “And pray we’re not dealing with a feline. They are far more fierce and lethal than the tomcats. The males are calculating and paranoid though, so I guess that’s not much better. But, before you head back into the city, I’m warning you now. Don’t get caught by a feline in heat.”
Martin frowned. “A feline in heat?”
The commander actually blushed, an action the spy thought Gillian couldn’t muster. “Well… let’s rephrase it as sexually aroused. A feline Seacat will take any male she finds attractive, doesn’t matter the species. And she won’t be satisfied with no for an answer.”
“Got it,” the spy said, looking out over the sea. “Avoid the females.”
“The safest course of action,” Gillian agreed. He nodded to the guards they passed. “They’re easy enough to spot. The tomcats usually do without shirts. The felines have tight fitting shirts.”
“Anything else about their society I should know about?” That last topic was long done.
“You may remember me mentioning that they have poison in their claws.” Gillian sighed. “Some Seacats have been known to extract poison and place it on their weapons as well, though that is rare. All the same, it’s best to stay out of their reach.”
Martin glanced over the abandoned city. Several large fires lit up the darkening streets. They seem to like fire as well.
“What sort of weapons do we have against them?”
Gillian half smiled. “I was wondering when you’d get to that question. There are several weapons.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a smoke bomb. “I’ve had my men add something a little extra to these bombs. There is a scent that overloads a Seacat’s sense of smell. It might just smell like rotten egg to us, but it drives the Seacats nuts.” Martin took the smoke bomb, impressed. “They also hate getting dirty. Not just dirt, but a true mess. Arms Master Yates is already developing a spray that will cause a very sticky mess.”
“Great and wonderful for defense,” Martin said, “but what about me going out there alone? Any suggestions? I need to avoid their sharp eyes, ears, and nose.”
The commander grinned widely. “We have a special uniform for that. It’s made of a dark material that doesn’t rustle and neutralizes the wearer’s scent. It covers everything but your eyes. Of course, we’d also supply you with smoke bombs, sticky spray, and knives in case you happen to run into a fight.”
“Of course,” he scoffed. He gazed back over the city then over the ten warships. His gaze lingered on the undeclared ship. There was the true enemy. The Stand and its defenders knew how to deal with Seacats. It was their unknown ally they needed to know.
“I go out tonight,” Martin suddenly said, startling the commander. “We need all the information we can get.”
******************
Martin dashed through the tunnels of the Stand, keeping in mind the map Willy had drawn up for him to navigate their underground maze. The thief was reluctant to show the map to him, but had agreed since it was the only way they all knew he was going to be able to enter the city without being seen. The stealth suit Gillian had described was exactly what Martin needed. Its muted color made it hard for anyone to spot him in the dark and the cloth didn’t make a sound as he made his way deeper into the city. He’d just have to trust the commander’s word that he no longer had a scent.
Pausing at an intersection, the spy glanced down each tunnel to make sure no one was there before darting down the right tunnel. Before he left the prison fort, one of the wall guards reported where the Seacats had set up their center. It was on the other side of the island in Lord Cantry’s own home. When Martin asked how the guard knew this, the soldier just replied that it was because that was where the most fire were. The lord nearly collapsed with grief to know what was happening to his home.
Spoiled nobleman, Martin thought, scowling underneath the mask. He had little patience for those who thought only for their possessions. He could understand attachment to some things, such as his “lucky” glove, since it connected him to someone. But when things became more important than people, he just could not muster any sympathy.
Perhaps that’s why I can’t stand thieves either. Willy was openly hostile toward him as he described the way to the lord’s mansion. There was only one reason the thief lord wanted to save the Stand. Seacats were bad for business, since apparently, they liked to hoard everything. Much like the thief himself.
Martin shook his head. He wasn’t out here, running towards certain danger Suit wanted him to avoid, for their sakes. It was the Stand’s citizens, the people who had been going about their lives. They were scared for their humble homes, some who had lived in them for generations. They were scared for the safety of their lives and their families. They have every right to be scared. Their homes and lives were at the mercy of plunder-loving Seacats. Martin vowed he would not underestimate these previous myths.
He slowed as he came to the marker Willy had promised marked that he was now underneath the lord’s home. Martin rolled his eyes. The sign the thieves had put here was a ruling rod of old nobility, turned upside down and hung from the ceiling. “A symbol of a puppet on a string,” Willy had smirked. As much as Martin had mutual loathing for the thief and his way of life, he had to agree with the astute comment. Lord Cantry was a coward who enjoyed the attention as a figure head.
I’ve not come all this way to sightsee. Martin did a quick search of the area until he found the trapdoor that lead into the nobleman’s cellar. It was nearly invisible seam near the ceiling and he had to use one of his knives to pry the thin half door open. Vaulting himself up, he crawled through the door and closed it behind him. He crept forward only to bang his head on a shelf. It rattled with wine bottles.
I’m in, he thought bitterly, rubbing his head. Willy had continently forgot to tell him that it was a direct door into the cellar and not a short tunnel. Getting on his belly, he had to slide under the shelf. He only breathed when he finally got out from underneath it. Annoying thief! Willy was going to find something very unpleasant waiting for him tomorrow morning. Martin toyed with the idea of using the same sticky goop used for Seacats on the thief lord’s cane.
Revenge later. Right now, he had a job. The cellar was empty of life as far as he could hear, not even mice ran under the shelves Martin had to crawl under. He briefly wondered if the Seacats shared their cousins’ taste in rodents, but decided it didn’t matter. It actually made his life easier; no mice were going to scurry away as he snuck through the mansion.
For the moment, Martin knew he was safe from discovery. He sat in the dark cellar for a few minutes, deciding his next move and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Slowly, the room became more distinct. The walls were lined with wine racks while the rest of the room was filled with large barrels, like the one he was sitting on. Cantry must like his ale. The lord of the Stand had sighed in relief when he was told that Seacats couldn’t stand the taste of alcohol and had probably left his collection of vintage wines alone.
His first task was not an easy one. I need to find their leader. Gillian had said that any information would have to be passed to the leading Seacat, regardless of what that information might be. This made his job easy, since there was only one place he knew all information passed. The problem was he didn’t know where to begin searching for the one spot.
He finally came up with a plan. He’d begin at the first level and carefully search that floor before going up each story until he found the leader. He was certain that the closer he got to the Seacat in charge, the more Seacats he was likely to encounter. I’ll just have to deal with that problem when I get there. Taking a deep breath, he left the cellar and began his search.
As he suspected the basement was clear of life and things. The wine cellar he had come up through was perhaps the only room left untouched. The rest of the storage rooms, the food stores, rooms of outdated furniture and fashion, and even a room of what Martin assumed was failed attempts of art had been looted or the undesirable things destroyed. The art room was a wreck indeed.
Time to see the rest of the house. Martin crept slowly for the stairs with a closed door at the top, with light spilling from around the frame. He took slow breaths. The stealth outfit may not rustle, but his own breathing could give him away. Taking the steps one at a time, the minutes dragged by until he finally managed to get to the top without Seacats running down on him. He paused at the closed door, pressing his ear against the grainy texture to listen for sounds beyond. If Cantry’s description of his mansion was to be believed, past the door was the kitchen.
*******
I apologize for the abrupt end, but I was idly writing last night when I looked at the clock, and, wow. It was after midnight. >_>
Now, a question. It's getting close to NaNoWriMo (9 more days. Yes, I'm counting), and the point of NaNo is quite simple.
"Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.
Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly."
For more info on NaNoWriMo, check out the website (where the quote from above came from) at http://www.nanowrimo.org/ This is a great program and I think everyone who ever thought of writing a book should at least give it a shot.
Finally, my question. Do you want to read my "lower expectations, take risks, and write on the fly" as I am writing this November, or would you prefer me to skip all that, not post anything this November, and slowly give it to you like when I started this blog? I'm warning you now. I will be writing crap (it's one of the things NaNo is proud to have happen). Some things I'll look back on after November and wonder what in the world I was thinking and change the whole thing. This is often how my version of editing goes. (Example: right now, I'm seriously considering ousting all of the Mesa adventure, and having Tracker and the poison show up at the Stand).
So, what is it going to be. Reading what just flies off my fingers or give me a chance to cut the bad things out? The choice is yours. Doesn't make much difference to me.
Wow, that was a long exitro. I'll stop now. Until next week (the last post before NaNo!) Enjoy the journey!
***********
The meeting lasted until it was almost dusk. Several times, they addressed him directly to find out some specific information. Martin would just smirk and say he would look into it. There were some questions he knew he wasn’t going to answer, such as the strength of the enemies. He was just one man; he couldn’t explore every inch of the Stand to determine that answer. Besides, the guards watching over the city could probably give a better answer than he could.
But other questions, those he could find out. There were three major questions that were his top priority now. Who did the Seacats form an alliance with? What did these people want? And what was their next plan of attack?
“Hiethery,” Gillian moaned, rubbing the small of his back as the war council finally left his office. “That meeting was too long.”
Martin chuckled. “I second that.” He gazed out the large bay window of the commander’s office. The storm had finally completely passed and revealed a disturbing sight. Ten different warships blocked the harbor, nine hoisting Seacat’s colors, stripes of brown, black, and orange. One ship they could not identify.
Gillian followed Martin’s gaze outside, where two ships could be seen, one of those ships being the uncolored. “Do you suppose the Seacats’ new ally is them?”
“It only makes sense,” Martin muttered. Sighing, he slumped in his chair. “I have a big project ahead of me.”
“Shouldn’t you get started then?”
“I need to know who I’m spying on,” he pointed out. He turned to Gillian. “What do you know of the Seacats? Quite honestly, I thought they were a myth.”
Gillian stood. “How about I answer your questions on the move? I can’t stand sitting for much longer.” Martin shrugged, but stood and joined the commander outside the office. Gillian whispered some command to the guards then started down the corridor.
“I’m not surprised you think Seacats were a myth,” the commander said. “Major seaports have magic wards against them, including Loman. And we didn’t encounter them on our way back from Loman when we brought you here. If you’ve never lived off the coast or sailed the seas enough, I understand how tales of the Seacats can seem…exaggerated.”
Martin snorted. “Well, some of those stories are a bit unbelievable.” The stories always told of barely civilized cat featured humans, whose ships could outrun the wind. Some claimed that the Seacats could jump to inhuman heights to catch moonbeams and use the captured light to seize other ships. Darker stories spoke of Seacats drinking the blood of their captives.
“True,” Gillian sighed. “But there is truth in our tales.” They encountered a group of refugees who looked like they just finished dinner. The commander and spy stepped to the side to let them pass before continuing their conversation.
“How about separating fact from the tales for me?” Martin suggested as they moved on.
“Very well.” Gillian croaked. He coughed. “Talked too much today already.” Coughing again, he managed to regain his voice. “Seacats are part human, part cat, who spend most of their days at sea. They are most active at night.”
“So,” Martin mused, “they’re a lot like normal cats?”
“Yes and no.” The commander turned a corner and started up a set of stairs. “Yes in the sense that they have excellent vision, can hear things us humans can’t, they can smell any ship off a mile off, and their agility is far greater than any human I know.”
“And the no part?”
“A normal cat will back off from a fight after the first couple of blows. Seacats will keep fighting until either they’re victorious or they’re too injured to continue. They enjoy causing slow pain to their victims. While they don’t drink blood, like some stories claim, they do take pleasure in the pain they cause.”
Martin shivered. That sounded too much like some people he knew. “What about their social structure,” he asked. “What’s their chain of command?”
They came to the top of the stairs and Gillian opened a door to the battlements. The commander breathed in the cold sea air, then pointed to one of the warships.
“Each ship is considered a pack,” he explained. “And each ship has one leader. It’s rare for them to create alliances between themselves because their leaders have a tendency to want to lead everyone. However, if what you suggest is true, they’ve been able to pick one Seacat as the liaison with their new ally, and that same Seacat is the unofficial leader for all.
“Whoever their leader is, that Seacat will insist that all information be given to them before anything is decided and they will have the final say.”
“They,” Martin pointed out. “The leader could be either male or female?”
“Yes,” Gillian moaned. “And pray we’re not dealing with a feline. They are far more fierce and lethal than the tomcats. The males are calculating and paranoid though, so I guess that’s not much better. But, before you head back into the city, I’m warning you now. Don’t get caught by a feline in heat.”
Martin frowned. “A feline in heat?”
The commander actually blushed, an action the spy thought Gillian couldn’t muster. “Well… let’s rephrase it as sexually aroused. A feline Seacat will take any male she finds attractive, doesn’t matter the species. And she won’t be satisfied with no for an answer.”
“Got it,” the spy said, looking out over the sea. “Avoid the females.”
“The safest course of action,” Gillian agreed. He nodded to the guards they passed. “They’re easy enough to spot. The tomcats usually do without shirts. The felines have tight fitting shirts.”
“Anything else about their society I should know about?” That last topic was long done.
“You may remember me mentioning that they have poison in their claws.” Gillian sighed. “Some Seacats have been known to extract poison and place it on their weapons as well, though that is rare. All the same, it’s best to stay out of their reach.”
Martin glanced over the abandoned city. Several large fires lit up the darkening streets. They seem to like fire as well.
“What sort of weapons do we have against them?”
Gillian half smiled. “I was wondering when you’d get to that question. There are several weapons.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a smoke bomb. “I’ve had my men add something a little extra to these bombs. There is a scent that overloads a Seacat’s sense of smell. It might just smell like rotten egg to us, but it drives the Seacats nuts.” Martin took the smoke bomb, impressed. “They also hate getting dirty. Not just dirt, but a true mess. Arms Master Yates is already developing a spray that will cause a very sticky mess.”
“Great and wonderful for defense,” Martin said, “but what about me going out there alone? Any suggestions? I need to avoid their sharp eyes, ears, and nose.”
The commander grinned widely. “We have a special uniform for that. It’s made of a dark material that doesn’t rustle and neutralizes the wearer’s scent. It covers everything but your eyes. Of course, we’d also supply you with smoke bombs, sticky spray, and knives in case you happen to run into a fight.”
“Of course,” he scoffed. He gazed back over the city then over the ten warships. His gaze lingered on the undeclared ship. There was the true enemy. The Stand and its defenders knew how to deal with Seacats. It was their unknown ally they needed to know.
“I go out tonight,” Martin suddenly said, startling the commander. “We need all the information we can get.”
******************
Martin dashed through the tunnels of the Stand, keeping in mind the map Willy had drawn up for him to navigate their underground maze. The thief was reluctant to show the map to him, but had agreed since it was the only way they all knew he was going to be able to enter the city without being seen. The stealth suit Gillian had described was exactly what Martin needed. Its muted color made it hard for anyone to spot him in the dark and the cloth didn’t make a sound as he made his way deeper into the city. He’d just have to trust the commander’s word that he no longer had a scent.
Pausing at an intersection, the spy glanced down each tunnel to make sure no one was there before darting down the right tunnel. Before he left the prison fort, one of the wall guards reported where the Seacats had set up their center. It was on the other side of the island in Lord Cantry’s own home. When Martin asked how the guard knew this, the soldier just replied that it was because that was where the most fire were. The lord nearly collapsed with grief to know what was happening to his home.
Spoiled nobleman, Martin thought, scowling underneath the mask. He had little patience for those who thought only for their possessions. He could understand attachment to some things, such as his “lucky” glove, since it connected him to someone. But when things became more important than people, he just could not muster any sympathy.
Perhaps that’s why I can’t stand thieves either. Willy was openly hostile toward him as he described the way to the lord’s mansion. There was only one reason the thief lord wanted to save the Stand. Seacats were bad for business, since apparently, they liked to hoard everything. Much like the thief himself.
Martin shook his head. He wasn’t out here, running towards certain danger Suit wanted him to avoid, for their sakes. It was the Stand’s citizens, the people who had been going about their lives. They were scared for their humble homes, some who had lived in them for generations. They were scared for the safety of their lives and their families. They have every right to be scared. Their homes and lives were at the mercy of plunder-loving Seacats. Martin vowed he would not underestimate these previous myths.
He slowed as he came to the marker Willy had promised marked that he was now underneath the lord’s home. Martin rolled his eyes. The sign the thieves had put here was a ruling rod of old nobility, turned upside down and hung from the ceiling. “A symbol of a puppet on a string,” Willy had smirked. As much as Martin had mutual loathing for the thief and his way of life, he had to agree with the astute comment. Lord Cantry was a coward who enjoyed the attention as a figure head.
I’ve not come all this way to sightsee. Martin did a quick search of the area until he found the trapdoor that lead into the nobleman’s cellar. It was nearly invisible seam near the ceiling and he had to use one of his knives to pry the thin half door open. Vaulting himself up, he crawled through the door and closed it behind him. He crept forward only to bang his head on a shelf. It rattled with wine bottles.
I’m in, he thought bitterly, rubbing his head. Willy had continently forgot to tell him that it was a direct door into the cellar and not a short tunnel. Getting on his belly, he had to slide under the shelf. He only breathed when he finally got out from underneath it. Annoying thief! Willy was going to find something very unpleasant waiting for him tomorrow morning. Martin toyed with the idea of using the same sticky goop used for Seacats on the thief lord’s cane.
Revenge later. Right now, he had a job. The cellar was empty of life as far as he could hear, not even mice ran under the shelves Martin had to crawl under. He briefly wondered if the Seacats shared their cousins’ taste in rodents, but decided it didn’t matter. It actually made his life easier; no mice were going to scurry away as he snuck through the mansion.
For the moment, Martin knew he was safe from discovery. He sat in the dark cellar for a few minutes, deciding his next move and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Slowly, the room became more distinct. The walls were lined with wine racks while the rest of the room was filled with large barrels, like the one he was sitting on. Cantry must like his ale. The lord of the Stand had sighed in relief when he was told that Seacats couldn’t stand the taste of alcohol and had probably left his collection of vintage wines alone.
His first task was not an easy one. I need to find their leader. Gillian had said that any information would have to be passed to the leading Seacat, regardless of what that information might be. This made his job easy, since there was only one place he knew all information passed. The problem was he didn’t know where to begin searching for the one spot.
He finally came up with a plan. He’d begin at the first level and carefully search that floor before going up each story until he found the leader. He was certain that the closer he got to the Seacat in charge, the more Seacats he was likely to encounter. I’ll just have to deal with that problem when I get there. Taking a deep breath, he left the cellar and began his search.
As he suspected the basement was clear of life and things. The wine cellar he had come up through was perhaps the only room left untouched. The rest of the storage rooms, the food stores, rooms of outdated furniture and fashion, and even a room of what Martin assumed was failed attempts of art had been looted or the undesirable things destroyed. The art room was a wreck indeed.
Time to see the rest of the house. Martin crept slowly for the stairs with a closed door at the top, with light spilling from around the frame. He took slow breaths. The stealth outfit may not rustle, but his own breathing could give him away. Taking the steps one at a time, the minutes dragged by until he finally managed to get to the top without Seacats running down on him. He paused at the closed door, pressing his ear against the grainy texture to listen for sounds beyond. If Cantry’s description of his mansion was to be believed, past the door was the kitchen.
*******
I apologize for the abrupt end, but I was idly writing last night when I looked at the clock, and, wow. It was after midnight. >_>
Now, a question. It's getting close to NaNoWriMo (9 more days. Yes, I'm counting), and the point of NaNo is quite simple.
"Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.
Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly."
For more info on NaNoWriMo, check out the website (where the quote from above came from) at http://www.nanowrimo.org/ This is a great program and I think everyone who ever thought of writing a book should at least give it a shot.
Finally, my question. Do you want to read my "lower expectations, take risks, and write on the fly" as I am writing this November, or would you prefer me to skip all that, not post anything this November, and slowly give it to you like when I started this blog? I'm warning you now. I will be writing crap (it's one of the things NaNo is proud to have happen). Some things I'll look back on after November and wonder what in the world I was thinking and change the whole thing. This is often how my version of editing goes. (Example: right now, I'm seriously considering ousting all of the Mesa adventure, and having Tracker and the poison show up at the Stand).
So, what is it going to be. Reading what just flies off my fingers or give me a chance to cut the bad things out? The choice is yours. Doesn't make much difference to me.
Wow, that was a long exitro. I'll stop now. Until next week (the last post before NaNo!) Enjoy the journey!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Gathering the Stand
Sorry about no post last week. It was my Dad's birthday and we celebrated by spending the day in Yellowstone. But on with the story!
**********
Martin laughed and shook the commander’s offered hand. “I’m worried for the day when you’ll get tired of rescuing me.”
“Unlikely for that to happen,” Gillian snorted. He nodded to the shivering nobleman. “Lord Cantry was just telling me how he got here. What’s your story?”
“Nothing much,” he admitted, watching as the rest of the guards made it down the steep steps, Glen and Tyler among them. The last of the soldiers pulled the trap door down and locked it. “My roommates decided to enjoy the evening rain when the attack came. Glen told me you had a barrier against the Seacats.”
The commander nodded his head weakly. “We did. I’m not sure how they were able to get past it though. But we’ll talk of this later. Right now, we need to get everyone away from here.”
“And go where?” Cantry snapped. “We’re on an island! Those monsters probably have us surrounded. There’s no place for us to hide!”
Gillian rolled his eyes, rubbing his temple. “I’m the commander of a prison full of thieves. Don’t you think I got information about our Stand’s underground tunnels in exchange for release? Besides, the Seacats haven’t taken the fort yet. If we can get all the citizens to the fort through these tunnels, we’ll have a chance to fight them from there. Captain!”
The soldier with captain stripes came to attention. “Yes, sir?”
“Take these men to the fort,” Gillian said. “Make sure they find some treatment for their wounded and that they get settled in.”
“Yes, sir!”
Glen and Tyler came up, both covered in scratches from their fight with the Seacats. “Sir,” Tyler said, saluting. “Permission to help evacuate the city.”
“No,” he said firmly. “Both of you need medical attention. Seacats have poison in their claws that make wounds fester. You’ll need to get treated.”
“I’ll help,” Martin volunteered, seeing the disappointment in his friends’ eyes. “I was rescued before I could join the fight.”
The commander eyed him. “Suit sent me a letter about why you’re here,” he suddenly said, lifting one corner of his mouth in a smile. “And about the list you made.” Martin groaned, covering his face with a hand. Suit was determined to see he did not do anything dangerous.
“However,” Gillian went on, “I also know you’re here to keep out of trouble, and I know you’ll get in more if I don’t keep an eye on you. I accept your help, Martin.” He turned to the captain and gave him more orders. After a quick goodbye to his friends, they were herded away by a group of soldiers.
Martin watched them go, wondering. Why had the Seacats been able to take the Stand? He remembered the spike of fear from the city when they had attacked. Warily, he opened himself to emotions again. Immediately he was taken by the fear. Gasping, he cut himself off again.
“Something the matter?” Gillian asked, frowning. “Did you actually get hurt?”
Martin shook his head. “Just thinking.” Gillian looked doubting, but said nothing. Waving to the remaining soldiers, he had them go for another trap door. Martin let out a quiet sigh. It was going to be a while before he used that power again.
********
It was dawn when they finally returned to the prison fort. Unlike when he was rescued, very few of the citizens were cornered by Seacats. Most of them were hiding together in various cargo storehouses throughout the city. When Martin mentioned how lucky they were of finding the citizens together in warehouses that led down into the tunnels, Gillian chuckled.
“I had a few of my men round them up,” he explained. “I had prepared an evacuation plan in case of getting attacked.” Martin chuckled himself. Commander Gillian was always prepared for the worst.
The soldiers the commander had mentioned were the last they had gathered. They reported that everyone had been gathered. Dragging their feet, they were the last ones to make the trek up to the fort.
“This is a lot better way of getting to your prison,” Martin muttered to Gillian. “You should use it more often.”
The commander chuckled. “No, I don’t think so. The thieves use these tunnels. And beside, I know of a few people who keep on the right side of the law so they don’t have to go up the path.” They continued walking in silence before Gillian spoke again. “Don’t suppose you have any ideas why the Seacats are here? You must have heard something.”
Martin kept walking, narrowing his eyes. During the night, he kept thinking back to what he had heard. That is the beauty of a new alliance! Shivering, he recalled when the Seacats almost took them and their leader pointing at him. He’s the one the mages want.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that we aren’t just dealing with Seacats.”
“Care to explain?”
The commander waited expectantly for his answer. Martin briefly explained what the burnt orange Seacat had said and also what the leader had said, careful to leave out that the Seacat had been pointing at him at the time he had said it. Gillian processed the information, stroking his limp mustache.
“So,” he said slowly, “you think we’re dealing with mages?”
Martin nodded. “The magical barrier against the Seacats was broken. Who else could have destroyed it?”
“That’s true,” Gillian reluctantly agreed. “However, you said it was an alliance. I know what the Seacats get out of it. They get to raid the Stand. But what do these mages want? What’s their motive?” The commander shook his head, his shoulders slumping under the weight of worry. “I don’t think any mage would come all this way to get our Lord Cantry. Maybe they mistook him for someone else.”
The spy didn’t respond, not trusting himself. There was no mistake. The Seacat was pointing at him. Martin shivered again, the same questions plaguing him. What did they want with him? What did they know?
Martin was startled when they suddenly arrived at the prison fort. “This is defiantly a better way,” he muttered as they finally passed through the line of soldiers protecting the entrance. Commander Gillian had straitened his shoulders and started giving commands again. He waited for most of the soldiers to leave before again approaching the commander.
“What’s your plan?”
“Blunt as always,” Gillian smirked. He reached out and patted his arm. “First thing, you are going to get something to eat and then get some rest. It’s been a long night. After you’re refreshed, I’ll tell you what I come up with.”
************
Martin followed the advice Gillian had given him. The fort was built by the same Aeternan engineer that had designed Fort Pinewood. However, the Stands’ Fort differed from Pinewood since only half the fort was built in the cliff side. Most of the prison cells were found embedded in the Cliffside. He avoided the guarded prisoners and went instead for the built section of the fort, where supply rooms, kitchens, laundries, courtyards, and practice yards were found.
He arrived to the main courtyard to find it in chaos. One glance at the scene of terrified Stand citizens trying to get organized, he decided it was too much of a hassle. With all the commotion, the spy knew he was unlikely to get any rest. Turning back, he found a relatively less active hall with only officers running down it, picked a pillar where it was unlikely anyone would step on him, sat down and pulled his coat’s hood down over his eyes.
It wasn’t the most comfortable place he could have slept, but when he woke up some hours later with a sore back, he wasn’t going to complain. It was better than having to fight for a bit of straw. He walked back to the main courtyard and found it in the same unorganized mess. Martin thought briefly to find a kitchen to find food, but dismissed the idea. They were probably also under the same chaos of sudden refugees.
This left him with one last option. Martin made his way to the commander’s office, sure that Gillian would have food there. He wasn’t surprised by the guards he met at the commander’s door.
“State your business,” a soldier demanded, blocking his way with his spear.
“Commander Gillian will want to see me,” Martin said tiredly. He had no time for games. “Ask him. My name is Martin.”
Looking dubious, the soldier knocked on the door. “Yes?” Gillian’s voice sounded through the wood.
“Someone named Martin says you want to see him.”
“Send him right in.”
Giving the soldiers a sympathetic smile to their confused looks, Martin opened the door and walked into the sun lit office. As he suspected, a larger table had been brought in and Gillian’s desk was pushed to the side. At the table sat several officers of the fort, Lord Cantry and a few of his attendants, then three people he did not recognize.
“Ah, Martin,” Gillian said, standing and walking over to him. He shook his hand. “Nice to see you up and about. Did you get something to eat?”
“I was hoping you’d have something here,” he admitted.
“It’ll be here in a few minutes,” Gillian chuckled. “Now, come sit. Let me introduce you to everyone. My second in command, Captain Duntsan. My assistant Corporal Benkly. The Arms Master Yates.” Each man nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Then we have Masters Paul Eck, Carl Sievers, and Chad South. They’re representing the general population.” The men held themselves proudly, Martin figured they were all well respected craftsmen. “And then you know Lord Cantry and his two assistants, Drew Cannon and Jordan Moyle.”
Lord Cantry snorted. “And who’s this whelp?”
Whelp? Martin wondered, frowning.
“This is Martin,” Gillian said, ignoring the insult. “We’re lucky he’s here. He’s one of the best spies I know.”
This caused the men at the table to sit up and regard him anew. Martin ignored the stares as he sat in the empty chair next to Gillian. It was always the same, people would discard him as unimportant, but when they would find out he was a spy, a very skilled spy, they would always stare at him, wondering how they could have ever dismissed him.
“What’s happening?” Martin asked, bringing everyone back to the matter at hand.
“We’ve mostly been discussing defense plans,” Gillian answered. “And we’re also planning on taking back the city. We’re just waiting for one more committee member.”
There was a knock on the door. “Sir,” the soldier said, “there’s another person claiming you’ll want to see him.”
“And there he is,” Gillian smirked. “Send him in.”
The man who walked in was someone Martin knew from one of his earlier missions. He was a fat man dressed in the current fashion of a sharp suit with a cane to match. His pudgy eyes scanned the room as only a thief could. His eyes narrowed as he focused on Martin.
“You’re a sly one, Gillian,” Willy said, sitting down at the only chair left. He tapped his cane on the table then pointed it at Martin. “You’re not afraid of using anyone. What’s the kid doing here?”
“He’s going to be getting the information we need,” the commander answered, his tone suddenly gone cold. “Now, I know you’re not happy working with us, and let me assure you that the feeling is mutual. However, if we’re to get our Stand back, we’re going to have to. So, while we’re working together, let’s also play nice.”
“Alright,” Willy sneered, rubbing the dark stone of his cane, “just so he plays nice as well.”
Martin sat back in his chair, his eyes not once leaving Willy’s. Gillian was very sly. Willy the Horrid was one of the top thieving lords of the city, his reputation held up his name sake. He was ruthless when it came to his position and he reminded Martin too much of the thieving gang leaders of Loman. The last time they crossed paths, Willy figured out he was a spy and vowed to make him pay. Painfully.
“Then let’s get down to business,” Gillian said shortly. As the debating began, the food arrived. Martin grabbed a roll and watched as the military, citizens, lord, and thief argued about the best way to reclaim the city. As expected, the military worried about the strategy, the citizens argued for the safety of their homes, Cantry kept bringing up expenses, and the thief. Well, he thought, casually glancing at the fat thief, he always is looking out for what’s best for him.
No one asked for his opinion though, which annoyed him a bit. He was going to be risking his neck for questions they needed to have answered before they could implement any of their plans.
“You said it was mages we’re fighting,” Paul Eck pointed out. “How can we go about fighting them? I mean, Seacats are plague enough, what can we do to fight magic?”
“That is a problem,” Gillian reluctantly replied. “We don’t know how to attack them if we don’t know what it’s they’re after.” He turned to Martin. “Do you suppose you could figure out why they’re here?”
Martin half smiled. “I was wondering when you were going to ask.”
***********
The players have been gathered and some of them aren't going to play nice. How's it going to turn out? Well, haven't written that yet. Enjoy!
**********
Martin laughed and shook the commander’s offered hand. “I’m worried for the day when you’ll get tired of rescuing me.”
“Unlikely for that to happen,” Gillian snorted. He nodded to the shivering nobleman. “Lord Cantry was just telling me how he got here. What’s your story?”
“Nothing much,” he admitted, watching as the rest of the guards made it down the steep steps, Glen and Tyler among them. The last of the soldiers pulled the trap door down and locked it. “My roommates decided to enjoy the evening rain when the attack came. Glen told me you had a barrier against the Seacats.”
The commander nodded his head weakly. “We did. I’m not sure how they were able to get past it though. But we’ll talk of this later. Right now, we need to get everyone away from here.”
“And go where?” Cantry snapped. “We’re on an island! Those monsters probably have us surrounded. There’s no place for us to hide!”
Gillian rolled his eyes, rubbing his temple. “I’m the commander of a prison full of thieves. Don’t you think I got information about our Stand’s underground tunnels in exchange for release? Besides, the Seacats haven’t taken the fort yet. If we can get all the citizens to the fort through these tunnels, we’ll have a chance to fight them from there. Captain!”
The soldier with captain stripes came to attention. “Yes, sir?”
“Take these men to the fort,” Gillian said. “Make sure they find some treatment for their wounded and that they get settled in.”
“Yes, sir!”
Glen and Tyler came up, both covered in scratches from their fight with the Seacats. “Sir,” Tyler said, saluting. “Permission to help evacuate the city.”
“No,” he said firmly. “Both of you need medical attention. Seacats have poison in their claws that make wounds fester. You’ll need to get treated.”
“I’ll help,” Martin volunteered, seeing the disappointment in his friends’ eyes. “I was rescued before I could join the fight.”
The commander eyed him. “Suit sent me a letter about why you’re here,” he suddenly said, lifting one corner of his mouth in a smile. “And about the list you made.” Martin groaned, covering his face with a hand. Suit was determined to see he did not do anything dangerous.
“However,” Gillian went on, “I also know you’re here to keep out of trouble, and I know you’ll get in more if I don’t keep an eye on you. I accept your help, Martin.” He turned to the captain and gave him more orders. After a quick goodbye to his friends, they were herded away by a group of soldiers.
Martin watched them go, wondering. Why had the Seacats been able to take the Stand? He remembered the spike of fear from the city when they had attacked. Warily, he opened himself to emotions again. Immediately he was taken by the fear. Gasping, he cut himself off again.
“Something the matter?” Gillian asked, frowning. “Did you actually get hurt?”
Martin shook his head. “Just thinking.” Gillian looked doubting, but said nothing. Waving to the remaining soldiers, he had them go for another trap door. Martin let out a quiet sigh. It was going to be a while before he used that power again.
********
It was dawn when they finally returned to the prison fort. Unlike when he was rescued, very few of the citizens were cornered by Seacats. Most of them were hiding together in various cargo storehouses throughout the city. When Martin mentioned how lucky they were of finding the citizens together in warehouses that led down into the tunnels, Gillian chuckled.
“I had a few of my men round them up,” he explained. “I had prepared an evacuation plan in case of getting attacked.” Martin chuckled himself. Commander Gillian was always prepared for the worst.
The soldiers the commander had mentioned were the last they had gathered. They reported that everyone had been gathered. Dragging their feet, they were the last ones to make the trek up to the fort.
“This is a lot better way of getting to your prison,” Martin muttered to Gillian. “You should use it more often.”
The commander chuckled. “No, I don’t think so. The thieves use these tunnels. And beside, I know of a few people who keep on the right side of the law so they don’t have to go up the path.” They continued walking in silence before Gillian spoke again. “Don’t suppose you have any ideas why the Seacats are here? You must have heard something.”
Martin kept walking, narrowing his eyes. During the night, he kept thinking back to what he had heard. That is the beauty of a new alliance! Shivering, he recalled when the Seacats almost took them and their leader pointing at him. He’s the one the mages want.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that we aren’t just dealing with Seacats.”
“Care to explain?”
The commander waited expectantly for his answer. Martin briefly explained what the burnt orange Seacat had said and also what the leader had said, careful to leave out that the Seacat had been pointing at him at the time he had said it. Gillian processed the information, stroking his limp mustache.
“So,” he said slowly, “you think we’re dealing with mages?”
Martin nodded. “The magical barrier against the Seacats was broken. Who else could have destroyed it?”
“That’s true,” Gillian reluctantly agreed. “However, you said it was an alliance. I know what the Seacats get out of it. They get to raid the Stand. But what do these mages want? What’s their motive?” The commander shook his head, his shoulders slumping under the weight of worry. “I don’t think any mage would come all this way to get our Lord Cantry. Maybe they mistook him for someone else.”
The spy didn’t respond, not trusting himself. There was no mistake. The Seacat was pointing at him. Martin shivered again, the same questions plaguing him. What did they want with him? What did they know?
Martin was startled when they suddenly arrived at the prison fort. “This is defiantly a better way,” he muttered as they finally passed through the line of soldiers protecting the entrance. Commander Gillian had straitened his shoulders and started giving commands again. He waited for most of the soldiers to leave before again approaching the commander.
“What’s your plan?”
“Blunt as always,” Gillian smirked. He reached out and patted his arm. “First thing, you are going to get something to eat and then get some rest. It’s been a long night. After you’re refreshed, I’ll tell you what I come up with.”
************
Martin followed the advice Gillian had given him. The fort was built by the same Aeternan engineer that had designed Fort Pinewood. However, the Stands’ Fort differed from Pinewood since only half the fort was built in the cliff side. Most of the prison cells were found embedded in the Cliffside. He avoided the guarded prisoners and went instead for the built section of the fort, where supply rooms, kitchens, laundries, courtyards, and practice yards were found.
He arrived to the main courtyard to find it in chaos. One glance at the scene of terrified Stand citizens trying to get organized, he decided it was too much of a hassle. With all the commotion, the spy knew he was unlikely to get any rest. Turning back, he found a relatively less active hall with only officers running down it, picked a pillar where it was unlikely anyone would step on him, sat down and pulled his coat’s hood down over his eyes.
It wasn’t the most comfortable place he could have slept, but when he woke up some hours later with a sore back, he wasn’t going to complain. It was better than having to fight for a bit of straw. He walked back to the main courtyard and found it in the same unorganized mess. Martin thought briefly to find a kitchen to find food, but dismissed the idea. They were probably also under the same chaos of sudden refugees.
This left him with one last option. Martin made his way to the commander’s office, sure that Gillian would have food there. He wasn’t surprised by the guards he met at the commander’s door.
“State your business,” a soldier demanded, blocking his way with his spear.
“Commander Gillian will want to see me,” Martin said tiredly. He had no time for games. “Ask him. My name is Martin.”
Looking dubious, the soldier knocked on the door. “Yes?” Gillian’s voice sounded through the wood.
“Someone named Martin says you want to see him.”
“Send him right in.”
Giving the soldiers a sympathetic smile to their confused looks, Martin opened the door and walked into the sun lit office. As he suspected, a larger table had been brought in and Gillian’s desk was pushed to the side. At the table sat several officers of the fort, Lord Cantry and a few of his attendants, then three people he did not recognize.
“Ah, Martin,” Gillian said, standing and walking over to him. He shook his hand. “Nice to see you up and about. Did you get something to eat?”
“I was hoping you’d have something here,” he admitted.
“It’ll be here in a few minutes,” Gillian chuckled. “Now, come sit. Let me introduce you to everyone. My second in command, Captain Duntsan. My assistant Corporal Benkly. The Arms Master Yates.” Each man nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Then we have Masters Paul Eck, Carl Sievers, and Chad South. They’re representing the general population.” The men held themselves proudly, Martin figured they were all well respected craftsmen. “And then you know Lord Cantry and his two assistants, Drew Cannon and Jordan Moyle.”
Lord Cantry snorted. “And who’s this whelp?”
Whelp? Martin wondered, frowning.
“This is Martin,” Gillian said, ignoring the insult. “We’re lucky he’s here. He’s one of the best spies I know.”
This caused the men at the table to sit up and regard him anew. Martin ignored the stares as he sat in the empty chair next to Gillian. It was always the same, people would discard him as unimportant, but when they would find out he was a spy, a very skilled spy, they would always stare at him, wondering how they could have ever dismissed him.
“What’s happening?” Martin asked, bringing everyone back to the matter at hand.
“We’ve mostly been discussing defense plans,” Gillian answered. “And we’re also planning on taking back the city. We’re just waiting for one more committee member.”
There was a knock on the door. “Sir,” the soldier said, “there’s another person claiming you’ll want to see him.”
“And there he is,” Gillian smirked. “Send him in.”
The man who walked in was someone Martin knew from one of his earlier missions. He was a fat man dressed in the current fashion of a sharp suit with a cane to match. His pudgy eyes scanned the room as only a thief could. His eyes narrowed as he focused on Martin.
“You’re a sly one, Gillian,” Willy said, sitting down at the only chair left. He tapped his cane on the table then pointed it at Martin. “You’re not afraid of using anyone. What’s the kid doing here?”
“He’s going to be getting the information we need,” the commander answered, his tone suddenly gone cold. “Now, I know you’re not happy working with us, and let me assure you that the feeling is mutual. However, if we’re to get our Stand back, we’re going to have to. So, while we’re working together, let’s also play nice.”
“Alright,” Willy sneered, rubbing the dark stone of his cane, “just so he plays nice as well.”
Martin sat back in his chair, his eyes not once leaving Willy’s. Gillian was very sly. Willy the Horrid was one of the top thieving lords of the city, his reputation held up his name sake. He was ruthless when it came to his position and he reminded Martin too much of the thieving gang leaders of Loman. The last time they crossed paths, Willy figured out he was a spy and vowed to make him pay. Painfully.
“Then let’s get down to business,” Gillian said shortly. As the debating began, the food arrived. Martin grabbed a roll and watched as the military, citizens, lord, and thief argued about the best way to reclaim the city. As expected, the military worried about the strategy, the citizens argued for the safety of their homes, Cantry kept bringing up expenses, and the thief. Well, he thought, casually glancing at the fat thief, he always is looking out for what’s best for him.
No one asked for his opinion though, which annoyed him a bit. He was going to be risking his neck for questions they needed to have answered before they could implement any of their plans.
“You said it was mages we’re fighting,” Paul Eck pointed out. “How can we go about fighting them? I mean, Seacats are plague enough, what can we do to fight magic?”
“That is a problem,” Gillian reluctantly replied. “We don’t know how to attack them if we don’t know what it’s they’re after.” He turned to Martin. “Do you suppose you could figure out why they’re here?”
Martin half smiled. “I was wondering when you were going to ask.”
***********
The players have been gathered and some of them aren't going to play nice. How's it going to turn out? Well, haven't written that yet. Enjoy!
Friday, October 1, 2010
What the Storm Brought
I know this is a short post, but it's better than none right? Time to see what the storm brought in.
********
The storm beat against the Stand for two days, forcing nearly everyone indoors. Martin could sense the tension from the city. No one could work the docks while the boats kept being thrashed around. It was the feelings of many that there was going to be a drop in profits due to the harsh storm. The afternoon of the second day the rain finally clamed down to a dreary drizzle.
Martin was enjoying a nap when something hit his face. “Hey,” he exclaimed, ripping the thing off his face. “What’s going on?” In the doorway, Glen and Tyler stood in raincoats. Lifting the object that hit him, he had a sinking feeling he knew what this was about.
“Get your coat on,” Tyler said, his grin matching his cousin’s.
“We’re getting itchy feet,” Glen easily took up. “Let’s get out and get some fresh air!”
Martin groaned, looking out to the still gloomy weather but he got up and put the coat on. “I’m going to catch a cold,” he muttered, following the two cousins outside. “And I’m going to blame the both of you for it!”
“You won’t get a cold,” Glen laughed, slapping his back. “I won’t allow it to catch us! Come on! It’s only a little rain!”
Little rain was understated. They hadn’t been walking ten minutes before he was soaked. He shivered as the cold winter wind blew through his drenched coat. Although it never snowed at Evan’s Stand, they had their share of freezing weather. Ahead of him, the cousins acted as if the rain didn’t exist.
“You were born fishes,” he grumbled. Around him, the rest of the citizens also emerged from their homes to go about working in the rain. Children ran out and began jumping in the large puddle. The adults just smiled at the kid’s games; a few of them even joined in. They were all fishes.
“Ah, Marty!” Glen laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “why look so glum? The rain isn’t beating down, everyone is out and about. Hey, even Lord Keith Cantry is out enjoying the weather!”
Martin followed Glen’s pointing finger to see the nobleman. Lord Cantry was a slim man surrounded by attendants. He had never met the man and had no real desire to. While the noble took charge of the citizen justice and care, it was actually Commander Gillian who held the real authority in the seaport. Cantry only served as a figurehead for the Aeternan nobility. And from what he heard of him, Cantry liked his position.
“I told you,” he grumbled. “I’m going to catch a cold. Besides, someone might see me.”
“Bah!” Glen laughed, “That’s why I picked here. Those who’d know you aren’t found around here.” Tyler waved them over to something. Glen dashed to join the sailor while Martin dragged his feet. He had opened himself up the city, and was confused by the mixed emotions. The city seemed joyous of the drizzling rain while he felt only dread. It was odd to feel the difference in opinion.
As the afternoon grew long following after the thief and sailor, Martin kept his mind open to the city, wondering how anyone could enjoy working in the freezing rain. It was evening when a different emotion pulsed.
Tyler was busy paying for dinner when he felt a spike of fear. Martin immediately jumped and checked his surroundings for anything dangerous. Strange, he thought as he finished his quick search. Nothing was out of place. Dismissing it as just another random strong emotion, he took the grilled fish from Tyler.
He gasped as the fear took him again, the fish slipping out of his fingers. The sailor frowned. “Don’t you like fish?” he asked, but Martin couldn’t hear. His head was filled with screaming. He bent down, wishing the emotions gone. Just as the emotion had overpowered him, it was gone.
“Martin?” Glen asked, frowning. “Is something the matter? You got really pale all of the sudden.”
“I’m not sure,” he said, rubbing the side of his face.
“Hey,” Tyler said, motioning them to be quiet. “Do you hear that?”
The three of them paused to listen. The street had gone strangely quiet for the evening hour. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths. Then came the screams.
“Oh, no,” Tyler whispered, his eyes wide. “This can’t be.”
Before either of them could ask what the sailor was talking about, the screaming masses burst into the small square, running away from something. Those who had waited with silent breath joined the screaming crowd. Smack! Martin got shoved into the store’s wall as the mass ran past, beside him, the cousins also found themselves flattened against the store. It was only once most of the crowd had moved on when he saw what was the cause of their fear.
It wasn’t anything he had seen before. Five creatures laughed as they flung torches on any wood, smashing anything they could get their hands on. At first glance, Martin thought they were some sort of distorted humans; they stood at least six feet tall and their skin ranged from burnt orange to black. But then he noticed their long thin tails twitching in excitement and their very cat like ears.
“Oh, hiethery!” Tyler swore, grabbing Glen’s and Martin’s arms in a death grip. “They’re Seacats!” He yanked on them as he followed after the screaming crowd. Martin stumbled after, trying to get his feet to run on the slick cobble stones.
“Seacats?” he repeated, catching up with Tyler. “I thought they were myths!”
“They’re not,” Glen panted as he ran next to them. He wiped the rain from his face. “But they shouldn’t be attacking us! We had magical shields against them!”
A shape flew over them and dropped ahead. They slipped to stop, Martin landing hard on the wet ground. The burnt orange Seacat stood, looking smugly down at them, his eyes shinning from the fire behind them. Tyler knelt to help the spy to his feet, but Martin was shocked to see the creature so close. He had a strong build and wore only a pair of tattered shorts. He swung a knotted whip teasingly as he approached them.
“It’s true,” he purred. “That magic did bar us from your lovely port. But…” The Seacat laughed, the sound grating on their ears. “That is the beauty of a new alliance!” He cracked the whip above their heads. “Now, toys, entertain me!”
They ducked as the whip snapped above their heads. “This way!” Glen yelled, grabbing his cousin and spy and ran for a side ally. Martin found himself once again stumbling after them. A catlike scream came from behind.
“I’m not done playing with you!” Martin glanced over his shoulder. The Seacat ran after them, gracefully jumping on crates to get above them. The spy skid to a stop, ignoring the cries of alarm from the others. The Seacat paused on top of a crate, confused about the human who stood unmoving.
“You’re not done playing with us?” he growled. He ripped the hidden throwing knives from his sleeves. “Well, we’re done!” Martin threw with deadly accuracy at the whip in the creature’s hand. The Seacat howled in pain as the knives cut the whip from his hand. Without waiting for a counter attack, Martin ripped out two more knives from his boots and held them ready for another throw.
The Seacat crouched down and licked his injured hand, glaring at Martin. “That wasn’t nice,” he sneered, his tail twitching.
“I told you,” Martin snapped. “We’re done playing.” He brought up one of his knives. The creature hissed then fled back down the ally to where the other Seacats were. Martin snorted, replacing his boot knives then retrieved his others.
“Wow,” Tyler said when Martin finally joined them. The sailor and thief had stopped to watch, though Glen’s eyes weren’t nearly as wide as his cousins. “I’ve never seen anyone throw knives like that before.”
“How about we get out of here?” Martin suggested, glancing back to the square. “I’m sure he’s just gone to get some of his friends.”
“True,” Glen said, shaking his head. He pointed down the ally. “There’s a thief tunnel over there.” He led them to a large dented metal bin. Reaching under it, the thief felt along the bottom until he heard a satisfying click. With a grunt, he lifted the bin to reveal a hole in the wall leading to the building behind. Not wanting the Seacats to catch their escape, they rushed inside and let the bin down with a thump. Glen grumbled as he fumbled against the wall.
“I know there’s a light here,” he muttered. A few moments later, he sparked a torch to light. Martin gazed around the tunnel, mildly surprised to see it only lasted a few feet.
“Where does this lead?” he asked as Glen moved past him to feel along the wall.
“This building is a common swap spot for thieves,” he explained, gently tapping on different bricks. “This building has more in and outs than it has walls. Ah, here we go.” Pressing a brick in, another satisfying click announced the way unlocked. Heaving his shoulder against the wall, Glen shoved until the door opened up to the building. Martin did another quick scan of the interior. The building was designed like all other storage houses he had seen, one large room to store goods with a few offices built up in the rafters. The only thing that made him uncomfortable about it was the lack of cargo stored there.
“I’m hoping there’s a place to hide,” he said, nodding to one of the few boxes there.
Glen snorted. “That’s why this is a swap spot. No hiding places, but plenty of escape routes.”
“Then let’s escape before those Seacats find us,” Tyler said, flinching as a booming crash sounded from outside. “I’d rather they not find us after what Martin did.”
Martin snorted. “Like I was going to let that Seacat chase us around the Stand with that whip cracking over our heads. Glen, which way now?”
The thief started for the back wall when the front door burst wide open. Martin immediately reached for his knives. Lord Cantry tumbled into the room, followed by his stumbling guards. The thin nobleman scrambled to his feet. Both parties froze when they saw the others.
“Who are you?” one of the guards demanded, the first one to regain their wits. “And what are you doing here?”
“Probably doing the same as you,” Glen sneered. “Trying to get away from the Seacats.”
“And you failed.”
The guards and nobleman spun around to find six Seacats standing in the busted door frame. Yelping, Cantry stumbled farther back, grabbed Martin by the shoulders, and hid behind him.
Acting like a scared kid, Martin thought, trying to shake the nobleman away. The guards formed a protective circle around them, leaving Tyler and Glen outside. “Let go of me!” he snapped as Cantry tightened his grip.
“There,” said the lead Seacat, a brown creature with dark eyes. He pointed at Martin. “He’s the one the mages want.” Martin felt his blood freeze in his veins; what did they want with him?
What did they know?
“Yow won’t take me alive!” the lord cried out, though still cowering behind the spy. “Guards! Attack!” If Martin hadn’t been worried about what the Seacat meant, he would have been amazed at the guards’ obedience to follow the order. They held their spears at the ready and charged.
“Come on,” Cantry whined, pulling harder on his sleeve. “Let’s get out while they buy us time.”
“You get out!” Martin snapped, finally yanking his arm free. It wasn’t like him to let others do the fighting for him. Glancing around, he saw that Glen and Tyler had gotten hold of brooms and were fighting along side the soldiers. The Seacats laughed as they danced around their spears, taunting them as they got in close to scratch at the men, leaving long bloody marks. Martin grabbed a discarded pole and started for the fight. Something whistled above his head.
Martin froze as a small bronze ball landed in before him. He recognized a smoke bomb; having used them frequently himself. “Great,” he muttered. Who threw it? It exploded before he could even guess, sending a thick white smoke in a large plume. Martin covered his mouth and nose before the wave hit him. From the direction of the battle, he heard coughs of surprise.
Hands grabbed his arms and dragged him to the side. Without thinking, he delivered a hard punch into his captor’s gut. The man grunted, but kept his hold. Martin brought his fist back for another blow.
“Wait,” the man heaved, “we’re friends! We’re going to get you out!” In the split second, Martin decided to trust the man. Staggering as the man pulled him away, he finally cleared the white smoke. A large section of the floor was lifted up with a number of Aeternan soldiers guarding the entrance. The man who had grabbed him also wore the Aeternan dark blue.
“Get on down,” a captain ordered, ushering him down. From the smoke, other Aeternan soldiers were pulling the others out. Before Martin could tell if Glen or Tyler had been rescued, he was pushed to move down.
He climbed down the steep steps to where even more Aeternan soldiers were waiting. Lord Cantry had been saved and was talking with their leader. A man Martin knew well. He stood no taller than most, but his stiff posture made him tower over the nobleman. His thinning hair was combed over his baldness and the limp hair matched his dropping mustache. Martin sighed in relief. He was safe.
“Well,” Commander Gillian said, grinning as he finally noticed him. “It seems I’ve come to your rescue once again.”
*********
Exciting. So, I've left some very interesting questions that haven't been answered (and probably not answered for a while yet!) So, I'll let everyone stew over what it means. Oh, and FYI, it's getting to be that time of year for NaNoWriMo (starts 12:01am on November 1). My goal is to have finished the first of three part of Martin's story by then so I could start on the second part, called The Secret's Captive. We'll see how far I get. Enjoy!
********
The storm beat against the Stand for two days, forcing nearly everyone indoors. Martin could sense the tension from the city. No one could work the docks while the boats kept being thrashed around. It was the feelings of many that there was going to be a drop in profits due to the harsh storm. The afternoon of the second day the rain finally clamed down to a dreary drizzle.
Martin was enjoying a nap when something hit his face. “Hey,” he exclaimed, ripping the thing off his face. “What’s going on?” In the doorway, Glen and Tyler stood in raincoats. Lifting the object that hit him, he had a sinking feeling he knew what this was about.
“Get your coat on,” Tyler said, his grin matching his cousin’s.
“We’re getting itchy feet,” Glen easily took up. “Let’s get out and get some fresh air!”
Martin groaned, looking out to the still gloomy weather but he got up and put the coat on. “I’m going to catch a cold,” he muttered, following the two cousins outside. “And I’m going to blame the both of you for it!”
“You won’t get a cold,” Glen laughed, slapping his back. “I won’t allow it to catch us! Come on! It’s only a little rain!”
Little rain was understated. They hadn’t been walking ten minutes before he was soaked. He shivered as the cold winter wind blew through his drenched coat. Although it never snowed at Evan’s Stand, they had their share of freezing weather. Ahead of him, the cousins acted as if the rain didn’t exist.
“You were born fishes,” he grumbled. Around him, the rest of the citizens also emerged from their homes to go about working in the rain. Children ran out and began jumping in the large puddle. The adults just smiled at the kid’s games; a few of them even joined in. They were all fishes.
“Ah, Marty!” Glen laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “why look so glum? The rain isn’t beating down, everyone is out and about. Hey, even Lord Keith Cantry is out enjoying the weather!”
Martin followed Glen’s pointing finger to see the nobleman. Lord Cantry was a slim man surrounded by attendants. He had never met the man and had no real desire to. While the noble took charge of the citizen justice and care, it was actually Commander Gillian who held the real authority in the seaport. Cantry only served as a figurehead for the Aeternan nobility. And from what he heard of him, Cantry liked his position.
“I told you,” he grumbled. “I’m going to catch a cold. Besides, someone might see me.”
“Bah!” Glen laughed, “That’s why I picked here. Those who’d know you aren’t found around here.” Tyler waved them over to something. Glen dashed to join the sailor while Martin dragged his feet. He had opened himself up the city, and was confused by the mixed emotions. The city seemed joyous of the drizzling rain while he felt only dread. It was odd to feel the difference in opinion.
As the afternoon grew long following after the thief and sailor, Martin kept his mind open to the city, wondering how anyone could enjoy working in the freezing rain. It was evening when a different emotion pulsed.
Tyler was busy paying for dinner when he felt a spike of fear. Martin immediately jumped and checked his surroundings for anything dangerous. Strange, he thought as he finished his quick search. Nothing was out of place. Dismissing it as just another random strong emotion, he took the grilled fish from Tyler.
He gasped as the fear took him again, the fish slipping out of his fingers. The sailor frowned. “Don’t you like fish?” he asked, but Martin couldn’t hear. His head was filled with screaming. He bent down, wishing the emotions gone. Just as the emotion had overpowered him, it was gone.
“Martin?” Glen asked, frowning. “Is something the matter? You got really pale all of the sudden.”
“I’m not sure,” he said, rubbing the side of his face.
“Hey,” Tyler said, motioning them to be quiet. “Do you hear that?”
The three of them paused to listen. The street had gone strangely quiet for the evening hour. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths. Then came the screams.
“Oh, no,” Tyler whispered, his eyes wide. “This can’t be.”
Before either of them could ask what the sailor was talking about, the screaming masses burst into the small square, running away from something. Those who had waited with silent breath joined the screaming crowd. Smack! Martin got shoved into the store’s wall as the mass ran past, beside him, the cousins also found themselves flattened against the store. It was only once most of the crowd had moved on when he saw what was the cause of their fear.
It wasn’t anything he had seen before. Five creatures laughed as they flung torches on any wood, smashing anything they could get their hands on. At first glance, Martin thought they were some sort of distorted humans; they stood at least six feet tall and their skin ranged from burnt orange to black. But then he noticed their long thin tails twitching in excitement and their very cat like ears.
“Oh, hiethery!” Tyler swore, grabbing Glen’s and Martin’s arms in a death grip. “They’re Seacats!” He yanked on them as he followed after the screaming crowd. Martin stumbled after, trying to get his feet to run on the slick cobble stones.
“Seacats?” he repeated, catching up with Tyler. “I thought they were myths!”
“They’re not,” Glen panted as he ran next to them. He wiped the rain from his face. “But they shouldn’t be attacking us! We had magical shields against them!”
A shape flew over them and dropped ahead. They slipped to stop, Martin landing hard on the wet ground. The burnt orange Seacat stood, looking smugly down at them, his eyes shinning from the fire behind them. Tyler knelt to help the spy to his feet, but Martin was shocked to see the creature so close. He had a strong build and wore only a pair of tattered shorts. He swung a knotted whip teasingly as he approached them.
“It’s true,” he purred. “That magic did bar us from your lovely port. But…” The Seacat laughed, the sound grating on their ears. “That is the beauty of a new alliance!” He cracked the whip above their heads. “Now, toys, entertain me!”
They ducked as the whip snapped above their heads. “This way!” Glen yelled, grabbing his cousin and spy and ran for a side ally. Martin found himself once again stumbling after them. A catlike scream came from behind.
“I’m not done playing with you!” Martin glanced over his shoulder. The Seacat ran after them, gracefully jumping on crates to get above them. The spy skid to a stop, ignoring the cries of alarm from the others. The Seacat paused on top of a crate, confused about the human who stood unmoving.
“You’re not done playing with us?” he growled. He ripped the hidden throwing knives from his sleeves. “Well, we’re done!” Martin threw with deadly accuracy at the whip in the creature’s hand. The Seacat howled in pain as the knives cut the whip from his hand. Without waiting for a counter attack, Martin ripped out two more knives from his boots and held them ready for another throw.
The Seacat crouched down and licked his injured hand, glaring at Martin. “That wasn’t nice,” he sneered, his tail twitching.
“I told you,” Martin snapped. “We’re done playing.” He brought up one of his knives. The creature hissed then fled back down the ally to where the other Seacats were. Martin snorted, replacing his boot knives then retrieved his others.
“Wow,” Tyler said when Martin finally joined them. The sailor and thief had stopped to watch, though Glen’s eyes weren’t nearly as wide as his cousins. “I’ve never seen anyone throw knives like that before.”
“How about we get out of here?” Martin suggested, glancing back to the square. “I’m sure he’s just gone to get some of his friends.”
“True,” Glen said, shaking his head. He pointed down the ally. “There’s a thief tunnel over there.” He led them to a large dented metal bin. Reaching under it, the thief felt along the bottom until he heard a satisfying click. With a grunt, he lifted the bin to reveal a hole in the wall leading to the building behind. Not wanting the Seacats to catch their escape, they rushed inside and let the bin down with a thump. Glen grumbled as he fumbled against the wall.
“I know there’s a light here,” he muttered. A few moments later, he sparked a torch to light. Martin gazed around the tunnel, mildly surprised to see it only lasted a few feet.
“Where does this lead?” he asked as Glen moved past him to feel along the wall.
“This building is a common swap spot for thieves,” he explained, gently tapping on different bricks. “This building has more in and outs than it has walls. Ah, here we go.” Pressing a brick in, another satisfying click announced the way unlocked. Heaving his shoulder against the wall, Glen shoved until the door opened up to the building. Martin did another quick scan of the interior. The building was designed like all other storage houses he had seen, one large room to store goods with a few offices built up in the rafters. The only thing that made him uncomfortable about it was the lack of cargo stored there.
“I’m hoping there’s a place to hide,” he said, nodding to one of the few boxes there.
Glen snorted. “That’s why this is a swap spot. No hiding places, but plenty of escape routes.”
“Then let’s escape before those Seacats find us,” Tyler said, flinching as a booming crash sounded from outside. “I’d rather they not find us after what Martin did.”
Martin snorted. “Like I was going to let that Seacat chase us around the Stand with that whip cracking over our heads. Glen, which way now?”
The thief started for the back wall when the front door burst wide open. Martin immediately reached for his knives. Lord Cantry tumbled into the room, followed by his stumbling guards. The thin nobleman scrambled to his feet. Both parties froze when they saw the others.
“Who are you?” one of the guards demanded, the first one to regain their wits. “And what are you doing here?”
“Probably doing the same as you,” Glen sneered. “Trying to get away from the Seacats.”
“And you failed.”
The guards and nobleman spun around to find six Seacats standing in the busted door frame. Yelping, Cantry stumbled farther back, grabbed Martin by the shoulders, and hid behind him.
Acting like a scared kid, Martin thought, trying to shake the nobleman away. The guards formed a protective circle around them, leaving Tyler and Glen outside. “Let go of me!” he snapped as Cantry tightened his grip.
“There,” said the lead Seacat, a brown creature with dark eyes. He pointed at Martin. “He’s the one the mages want.” Martin felt his blood freeze in his veins; what did they want with him?
What did they know?
“Yow won’t take me alive!” the lord cried out, though still cowering behind the spy. “Guards! Attack!” If Martin hadn’t been worried about what the Seacat meant, he would have been amazed at the guards’ obedience to follow the order. They held their spears at the ready and charged.
“Come on,” Cantry whined, pulling harder on his sleeve. “Let’s get out while they buy us time.”
“You get out!” Martin snapped, finally yanking his arm free. It wasn’t like him to let others do the fighting for him. Glancing around, he saw that Glen and Tyler had gotten hold of brooms and were fighting along side the soldiers. The Seacats laughed as they danced around their spears, taunting them as they got in close to scratch at the men, leaving long bloody marks. Martin grabbed a discarded pole and started for the fight. Something whistled above his head.
Martin froze as a small bronze ball landed in before him. He recognized a smoke bomb; having used them frequently himself. “Great,” he muttered. Who threw it? It exploded before he could even guess, sending a thick white smoke in a large plume. Martin covered his mouth and nose before the wave hit him. From the direction of the battle, he heard coughs of surprise.
Hands grabbed his arms and dragged him to the side. Without thinking, he delivered a hard punch into his captor’s gut. The man grunted, but kept his hold. Martin brought his fist back for another blow.
“Wait,” the man heaved, “we’re friends! We’re going to get you out!” In the split second, Martin decided to trust the man. Staggering as the man pulled him away, he finally cleared the white smoke. A large section of the floor was lifted up with a number of Aeternan soldiers guarding the entrance. The man who had grabbed him also wore the Aeternan dark blue.
“Get on down,” a captain ordered, ushering him down. From the smoke, other Aeternan soldiers were pulling the others out. Before Martin could tell if Glen or Tyler had been rescued, he was pushed to move down.
He climbed down the steep steps to where even more Aeternan soldiers were waiting. Lord Cantry had been saved and was talking with their leader. A man Martin knew well. He stood no taller than most, but his stiff posture made him tower over the nobleman. His thinning hair was combed over his baldness and the limp hair matched his dropping mustache. Martin sighed in relief. He was safe.
“Well,” Commander Gillian said, grinning as he finally noticed him. “It seems I’ve come to your rescue once again.”
*********
Exciting. So, I've left some very interesting questions that haven't been answered (and probably not answered for a while yet!) So, I'll let everyone stew over what it means. Oh, and FYI, it's getting to be that time of year for NaNoWriMo (starts 12:01am on November 1). My goal is to have finished the first of three part of Martin's story by then so I could start on the second part, called The Secret's Captive. We'll see how far I get. Enjoy!
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