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.

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.