The Space Between

I really enjoyed the prompt from Write at the Merge this week.  While the music itself wasn't connected to my writing, the idea of the space between was what got the wheels turning.  This is another excerpt out of a long, and yet unfinished, work.  Any concrit, as always, is much appreciated.

Mesara slipped to the ground.  Her dark hair created an inky shadow across her face.  Tyrhan, across the cavern and still engaged with one of the Renashi, caught her collapse through the fighting.  The stellar nimbus surrounding her was gone.  Fear strangled his heart.

Tyrhan maneuvered the Renashi into giving him an opening.  He dispatched the Renashi with a quick thrust to the chest.  Tyrhan used his momentum to push the body out of his way.  He needed to find Meathar and get them both to Mesara.  Most of the Renashi were fleeing now.  Tyrhan hoped that meant Mesara and Meathar were able to defeat Amnor, but finding out didn’t matter that much at the moment.  Making sure Saylen’s children were still alive did.

Meathar had been between Tyrhan and Mesara when the fight began.  As Tyrhan pushed his way through the remnants of the fleeing Renashi, using his sword to clear a path as needed, he found Meathar covered in blood.

“I’m all right.  It’s Amnor’s.”

“Mesara’s down,” Tyrhan reached down to pull the younger man to his feet.

As Meathar got to his feet he froze, “Look up.”

The Wildrose vines that had been raining from the ceiling were gone.  Vanished as if they never existed.  The two men locked looks for a moment.  No words were needed.  As one they turned and sprinted to Mesara’s side.

Meathar pulled his sister into his lap, cradling her to him, “Come on, ‘Sara.  Wake up.”

Tyrhan searched for a wound but found nothing.

Several tense seconds passed.  Then, Mesara reached up to touch Meathar’s face.

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes still closed, she stretched her other arm out to take Tyrhan’s hand.

“I’m so sorry.”

Then she went limp.

Time at the River

Here's what I came up with for this week's Don't Panic Picture Prompt.  To put it into context, it is a sketch of a scene in a longer piece I am working on.  I am hoping to get the story done soon.

The wind blew cold spray from the river below against Mesara’s face.  She studied the rapids as the river came together around a small island.  The trees were green here.  She wasn't expecting that.  It seemed as if everything here should be barren and dead, so close to Amnor’s Tomb.

It was a matter of a day or two.  That was all she had left before it was time.  She knew what The Wildrose meant now.  The pain of that understanding cut deeper than the semi-frozen droplets biting any exposed skin.  As she wished she could turn back time, she scrubbed her face.  It was no use wishing.  She’d wasted precious time being impatient, being frightened.  It was gone and there was no getting it back no matter how hard she wished she could change it.

Mesara threw the rock in her hand and sat down.  She pulled out a scrap of parchment from the bag at her knee.  She need to tell him what was in her heart.  He deserved that much.

I showed you mine - now you show me yours!  You have until the end of the day on Tuesday this time (I accidentally gave you an extra day).  Check out the Don't Panic Picture Prompt here and stop back with something it inspired.  Heck, your link up doesn't even have to contain any reference whatsoever to the picture.  Just write what comes when you look at the picture.

Words Left Unsaid

While we had 500 words to show a scene involving a hand written letter from Write On Edge this week, I found I didn't need it.  The scene I had pictured in my head once again comes from a significantly longer piece I'm working on.  but I found it didn't need that generous of a word count.  Other pieces can be found here, here and here.  Here it is - let me know what you think!

Tyrhan pulled out a folded piece of parchment from his belt pouch.  It was dirtier than when he’d first gotten it.  A bit more tattered around the edges too.

He caressed it for a while before opening it once more.  He didn’t really need to read it anymore to know what it said.  The words were etched not only into his memory but into his heart.  They’d become scars there.  Burning, aching with every beat.  Regrets washed through him hard on the heels of those piercing heartbeats.  There were so many things he should have said.

Drawing a deep breath, Tyrhan looked at the even, elegant script on the page.  Even now he could picture her sitting there in the dim campfire light penning each word with care.  The others had each gotten short notes from her, but his was by far the longest.

Her words tried to explain to him why things ended up the way they did.  Tyrhan found he didn’t care.  She was gone and that was what mattered.  That hurt the most.  Saylen’s belief Tyrhan had done all he could wasn’t something Tyrhan could share.  Afterall, what was the use of being a Guardian if he couldn’t keep the one thing he’d dedicated his entire life to safe?

He studied those words, just as he had a hundred times or more in the week since he’d gotten the letter.  Each time he hoped he could find some peace, some answer he’d missed before.  Tyrhan never did.

All he ever found was the same anguish and loss.  Those three words at the end were the most brutal of all.  They were a knife buried so deep in his heart it’d never come out.  That one sentence reminded him of everything that could have been.  Everything he’d wanted but was too afraid to go after.  And now it was too late.  She was gone.

And all he had left was a tear smudged letter and a crystallized rose pendant.


I am hoping (eventually) to have the entire finished work published on Smashwords.com.  I'll let ya'll know when it is.

Also, don't forget - you have until the end of the day today to link up with the Don't Panic Picture Prompt #3.

The Secret

I have to say I loved the Robert Frost poem from the Write on Edge prompt this week.  That being said, I struggled with this scene quite a bit.  I know what I'm trying to convey, but any concrit would be helpful.  I'm not sure yet this scene will actually  make it into the final draft of the fantasy piece I'm working on, but it's still an important scene for me to have cemented in my head.  Other pieces of this story can be found here and here.

Mesara glanced around as they rode into the foothills.  She thought Inshaya might suspect something.  The rest of them didn’t seem to sense her intention.  Certainly not Tyrhan.  Mesara felt bad for that.  But she knew if she told them what needed to happen, they would never let her do it.  And if she didn’t do what she needed to, Amnor would win and the world as they knew it would be forever changed.

The trouble was she didn’t want to finish what had been started anymore than they did.  It had taken her all of these long months to come to terms with who she was, what had happened to her, and, most important, her feelings for Tyrhan.  But she knew she had no choice.  She wouldn’t sacrifice everything and everyone she loved for her own fears and selfishness.

In camp that night, she sat off to the side.  One by one Meathar, Tyrhan and the others tried to engage her in their jokes and conversation.  But it didn’t feel right.  Mesara knew if she started to talk to them, the secret would come out.  She couldn’t risk that.  So she kept her distance.  Laris was her only comfort.

The cat caught her gaze.  His strength, encouragement and love flooded through her in wave after wave of images.  There was something in his message to her that reassured her more than her other companions could.  A sense of peace filled her just before Laris got up and wandered away.  Something in what he tried to tell her made her believe everything would be alright in the end.  She lay down to sleep, easy for the first time on that long ride north.

Mesara savored that last ride to their goal.  Meathar lead the way.  She did not doubt he was just as drawn to the end as she was.  She was saddened by his confidence in some ways.  This ending would destroy it just as much as it would destroy the threat to all of Mharakhan.  She hoped her father, Karik and Inshaya would help see her brother through the next few months.

Glancing over at Tyrhan, Mesara knew there was no such hope for the elf.  She’d known how he felt about her for quite a while now.  And she knew how deep his emotions ran despite what he let show.  There would be no such comfort for him.  It was that simple fact that she struggled with the most.  That one thing was almost enough to convince her to turn her horse south and flee her fate.

Almost.

Aftermath

This is the rough idea of where the fantasy story I posted on Sunday is headed.  While the story isn't finished yet, I've had the ending in my head for quite a while.  The Don't Panic Picture Prompt this week became a possible setting for this scene which, in the larger story, would play a significant role.  Let me know what you think!

Tyrhan stood on the old dock at Resan Lake, those last few days replaying in his head over and over.  The battle with Amnor was over.  His dark reign was crushed once more.  The Renashi were turned back.  But none of that mattered.

The foggy beauty of the lush trees surrounding the lake didn’t even register.  He’d failed.  Tyrhan promised Saylen he’d bring the man’s daughter home.  And she was gone.

Tyrhan understood Mesara’s task was dangerous.  It never crossed his mind that he’d lose her.  She’d become the Wildrose.  It had been his duty to protect and serve her as a Guardian.  And he failed.

Laris rubbed his head against Tyrhan’s hip.  Tyrhan absentmindedly scratched the cat’s ears.  After a few moments, Laris butted his leg several times.  Tyrhan knelt down to meet the thar’s gaze, tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, my friend.  She’s gone,” he whispered.

Images flashed through Tyrhan’s head.  He knew Laris was trying to tell him something but the scenes weren’t clear.  Sighing, Tyrhan got up to stare out at the lake again.  He heard footsteps on the dock behind him.

“Tyrhan.  This isn’t your fault.”

“How can you of all people say that?” bitterness welled up in Tyrhan’s voice.

“Because I’m her father I can.  I may have missed most of her life, but I knew the kind of person Mesara was.  This was her role, her duty.  She wouldn’t have shirked that.  Certainly not if it meant saving the lives of those she loved.”

That one word triggered the most crushing memory of that day.  Closing his eyes, Tyrhan could see her in the cave.  She’d glanced once at him, mouthed to him the words he’d longed for.

I love you.

Then she dropped her sword and let Amnor run her through.

Crossing An Old Line

When I read the prompt about taboo from Write On Edge, I actually came up with two different scenes.  The first is the one I posted on Friday.  The second is a scene from a longer piece I'm still working on.  After thinking about it some, I decided I'd post the second one here since it would have blown the word count all to pieces and I couldn't figure out how to cut it down.

Here it is.  Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

 “We cannot allow you access to the Wildrose.  It is our most guarded treasure.  No stranger has looked upon it.  We cannot allow that to be violated,” decreed Lord Karna.

“Try and stop me,” Mesara spun on her heels and left the council chambers.

The guards at the door were too stunned at her behavior to even put up a token protest.  Tyrhan stood for a moment letting Mesara’s words sink in with the council.

“Lady, Lords.  I ask you to tread lightly here.  I am a Guardian.  I serve the Wildrose first.  I can verify what Lady Mesara has said.  The Wildrose has called her and given her instructions on a number of occasions already.  It would be unwise to attempt to bar Mesara from answering that call.”

“That is enough fairy tales and make believe, Lord Tyrhan!  As the chair of this council I am ordering you to follow this command.  You will bar that child from the Wildrose.  You will, under no circumstances, allow anyone not sanctioned by this council into that garden.  Am I clear?” presumption was thick in Lady Risa’s voice.

“As I said, Lady Risa, I serve the Wildrose first.  The first elven council decreed that when a council directive conflicts with the desires of the Wildrose, a Guardian must first serve the Wildrose.  Only once her wishes are met can a Guardian attempt to follow council directive.”

“She is a half-breed child.  She has no business with the Wildrose.  I don’t care what any prior council said.  You will follow my orders!” Lady Risa was almost shouting at this point.

Tyrhan stood, fists clenched, teeth gritted for several seconds before responding softly, “Lady Risa, it is unbecoming of the chair of this council to behave this way, particularly toward your own granddaughter.  As a Guardian, I speak for the Wildrose.  She has called your granddaughter.  I know part of why it was your granddaughter who was chosen.  Lady Mesara has the Earth Magick.  It is strong with her, stronger than anyone in living memory and, perhaps, stronger than any who have ever possessed it.  It is the Magick that has forged a connection between Mesara and the Wildrose.  There is nothing in all of Mharakhan that will stop the Wildrose from bringing Mesara to her.  Do not interfere.  I would hate to be forced to choose between my service to the Wildrose and my service to this council, for I know which one I would give up without another thought.”

He left the council chamber in a graceful, controlled, cold fury.  He couldn’t believe Lady Risa was still as blind now as she was with Kierana and Saylen.  He went to find Mesara to make sure she was alright.  He heard shouting behind him but that didn’t matter to him at that moment.  Tyrhan would live to regret not stopping to listen to what was being said.

He went directly to the Garden of the Wildrose but she wasn’t there.  Tyrhan went back to check her rooms.  There, a serving woman told him he just missed her and that she was headed toward the garden the last she saw.  As Tyrhan left the guest quarters, Laris sprinted by him.  Tyrhan followed the cat at a dead run as well, but, unlike the mountain thar, Tyrhan stopped short at the outer edge of the garden.  He could see several bodies wrapped tightly in the branches of the holly bushes that marked the border to the garden.  Droplets of blood splashed the grass near their feet.  Emerald green branches waived like feelers looking for bodies to grab.  Farther in, he saw Lady Risa and the serving woman, Darienne, caught fast by the grass which had grown to almost completely envelop them.  Mesara was kneeling next to the Wildrose while Laris settled in on her other side.  He could almost see the Magick swirling about her it was so strong.

One more reminder - the Don't Panic Picture Prompt #2 is up.  Check it out and stop back Wednesday to link up!