Monday, November 22, 2010

NaNoWriMo: Day Twenty-Two

We are nearing the home stretch, people! Eight days to go! Be warned, NaNo's sight is still about an hour behind of the word logging, so if you try to log anything past 11 pm (any time zone), it will roll it over into the next day. Do not crunch!

In other news, I have recently added an Artwork page to my blog in an attempt to get more traffic. I am a freelance illustrator. I range in concept art, story boarding, and I have even taken on covert art projects (although the turnaround time for those are longer). If you are interested in any work, we can discuss it. I know the page is rather bland, but it's just a start. I'll work at the glamour end of it.

Here is your excerpt:

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 13 excerpt

Sevestra thought of Orin and what she had done. If he had taken her guidance to heart, his army would be at the forest in a few short days. By that time, Balter would be ready to be released from his incubator, the body ready for him to walk in again. She sat waiting for the word, the Tulzo Ank clutched close to her chest. As great as her part was in his return, she dreaded the day, for when he woke, he would be ready to call on the Darkness. It had been his aim: find the way to return to the world and control the infection. At all ends, the plan sounded as if it would fall apart before it could be enacted, but here she sat, waiting.

She held the manuscript down from her body, staring the jacket. He would take her at his side and bring the Darkness back to him, as if summoning a common solider, to give it orders. She looked at the clan mark on her skin and touched the cover. The lock snapped off and she opened it to the first page. In all the time she had played a false role for King Pallanza, with all the power she had obtained and the respect that she had be given, she was certain she was not ready for this day. So mighty a face in the world above, but her, she was a frightened witch about to witness the rebirth of an ancient enemy.

The doors of her chamber opened and a small demon entered for her. Its stomach curled in, the ribs in its chest more prominent than they should been, and two large knobs bulged from its shoulders, arms hanging long and thin. It bowed to her, tucking its gangling arm at its body, and kept its eyes to the floor.

“Is it ready?” she asked.

The demon rose slowly and put a hand out to her. “Come, Mistress Sevestra. He awaits you.”

Sevestra readied herself as much as she would be able and closed the manuscript. She gave a final peer through her chambers and wondered if anything would be the same from this day forth. She gave the demon her hand and together they walked the long corridor leading to his throne, the same she had kept for him. The crystal around the throne shone a sharp violet, his chamber aglow only by its light. Her mind went wandering and she expected something to be waiting for her when she approached. Other demons rose up from the floor, part of the room itself, and bowed as she passed.

The demon that showed her into Balter’s chamber put itself in front of the throne and stared at her, although she would not give it her eyes. The room suffered a quick drop in temperature and while she felt it, the bowing demons showed it as no inconvenience.

“He comes now, Mistress,” the demon said. It went to the floor on both knees, arms stretched to the floor in exultance. “The world awaits you again, Lord Mithrus.”

The opening of a door came from somewhere distant in the chamber and Sevestra looked for it. She knew of no other door, but when he turned next, Balter was approaching her. He was toned, each bare muscle a glistening testament of his long awaited glory. He came to her and she realized then he wore nothing. The coldness seemed to give no consequence to him and she could not help but stare upon his lower region.

He smiled upon her, taking his head back slightly and narrowing his eyes to piece that which had entranced her.

“Marvelous work the resurrection has given my body.” He checked his arms and ran his forefinger down the damp curve of his arm. “Although some things remain unchanged.” Mithrus put a hand under Sevestra’s chin and brought her to look at him.

She rose, not knowing how for she did not will it, but she stood inches from him.

“Are you well, Sevestra?”

“I am, my Lord.” She was weak kneed and grabbed to his arm when her legs gave away. He caught her up and brought her to his body. “Thank you.”

“Your age does not beget your feelings for me, do they?”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“It’s all right, dear. I need someone at my side you know. The throne will grow cold should someone else not share the rule. Will you be that person to seat it?”

“It would be an honor, but I must earn it. Orin goes on my behalf to the forest. The directive there remains unchanged since we last spoke. Are we ready to bring our war to them?”

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"Little by Little, One Goes Far." -- J.R.R Tolkien.

I believe this as a philosophy, from a man who saw war and setback, and conquered all to bring us the greatest fantasy series that has ever been published. Leave your little comment and I'll get back to you.