NaNo 2011: Day 28: FOR THE WIN!

FOR THE WIN!

After I minor heart attack this morning for not remembering where to find the "Verify Win" page was, I did claim my win for NaNoWriMo 2011. Hurrah! Can you hear the trumpets? Oh, maybe that's only on my side of the screen. The win is all the more sweet because this year's NaNo challenge was the rebirth of my first manuscript, whose plot I continued to just be "okay" with because it was always "the plot." After a brief strike of lightning to my creative noggin, a new plot was formulated and I took it full steam ahead for NaNoWriMo.

Here is the last of the excerpts.

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Words written today: 1,230
Finishing word count: 50,406

Favorite lines:

It was eerie trying to find my way back to the chamber on my own. When we had Kyona to guide us, I hadn’t noticed that the tunnel under her house split off in directions other than the one she took. Things shuffling around me forced my legs to walk faster. Tiny pebbles being kicked around as if I were being followed made me put my hands of both walls. I eventually was running and found the chamber. After I put myself in the center, I spun around quickly, half expecting something to leap out at me from the tunnel. Nothing was there. I found the circle I stood on earlier and joined it again. The solitude was something entirely different. Kyona’s presence was invasive to my channel. I did not feel it earlier, but I was alone now, ready to make this work.

I spread my arms and reached out with my fingers, as if grabbing imaginary door handles. I wiggled each one, feeling the air. I didn’t give myself as much time as I would have liked to prepare, but jumping into it seemed right. I shut my eyes and opened my channel. In the absence of Elf spirits and a Chimra essence, my channel could wander the chamber. The gates spread wide and my magic flowed evenly from my body. I opened my eyes long enough to see a milky aura shifting silver around my body. Kyona compared a channel, spirit and essence in such a rudimentary way, I scowled, as if the structure of what stored our magic was just a part of our genetic makeup and nothing more.

I only recently learned what genetics means. The Mavians study broad spectrums of sciences that, until they arrived on Elyserian, the people were unaware existed. Every person and animal has a genetic signature, a trait normally found in the blood that is passed down from their ancestors. I suppose that’s what Kyona was getting at, but why didn’t she just say it?

With my channel filling the chamber, I tried to bring my mind away from everything it was touching. It was harder than I thought, because everything it came across, my brain wanted to process. Despite that challenge, I eventually found myself in a state of supreme thought. Miraculously, all else was gone from my mind. I knew what the Mavians looked like. Never saw one up close, but the documents back at our schools went in depth to their appearance. I pictured the height first. I stood at five feet, six inches. I gave myself another four heads, thinking that’d qualify for a Mavian. The difficult part would be arranging my body so my arms became longer, my body wider and my head in that strange bulbous form, like Alpha’s.

My channel wanted more attention, but I fought to keep it at bay. Once I had finally created the picture of a Mavian in my head, I gave myself a few seconds before drawing the magic back into me at full force. It’d have to be swift so it didn’t have time to settle. It needed to experience all of what I had just created so I could become it. A few seconds became more like thirty, but after that, I closed my channel like a swift kick at a door and the magic bombarded me. It rushed back and my legs trembled. I had never released so much just to try to wrangle it all back. Whenever we sent it somewhere, there was always a purpose; a destination. Not this time. My body quaked and my heart jumped started with feverish pumps. Despite my best efforts to remain standing, I fell to my knees and then to my arms. My back arched and my eyes couldn’t leave the ground.

My throat contracted and I toppled over onto my side, unable to breathe. I clawed at my neck, hoping it would do something, but I had no gain over being out of breath. I beat my chest and kicked my legs. Nothing helped. Here I was, alone in a cellar under the earth, being suffocated by my own magic. No one would know I was dead until morning.

NaNo 2011: Day 24 Wrap-up

So after looking at my schedule for the next, I realized I will have almost no time to write if I fall behind again. Which I won't. I plan to be posting my "For The Win," post on Saturday. I'm posting early today because I work all day and there will be little writing when I get home tonight. So this word count reflects what has been done this morning. I may update the count late this evening.

SIX DAYS LEFT!

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Words written today: 1,274
Finishing word count: 43,566

Favorite lines:

We started on our way, not yet knowing where to find the Chimra maiden, when we were called back.

“Be on your guard, mage,” Notch-eye said to me. “Been weird things happening here lately. Dark things.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You’d do well to take it to heart, sir.”

We turned into a stable and let our horses rest. In a shadowed corner of the barn, we pulled Alpha’s hood off so he might inform us where to go without him seeing.

“You know where she’s at?” I asked. “These guys are spooked by something in this town, I think.”

“Last I met her, she lived by a well.”

“There are a lot of wells in a town,” Alanur said.

“You’ll know it when you see it. Can’t be more help if this thing’s going to go back on.”

“Unfortunately not,” I said.

We gathered our saddlebags and left the food and pans behind if we should stop for the evening here. We took a back door out of the stables, finding ourselves ankle deep in piles of hay and horse manure.

“Perfect,” Melana said sourly. She was the first to leap through all the hay and spring over a wall outside the stable. “Well, come on. It reeks here.”

After pulling our boots off and wiping them clean, we kept to the alleys that seemed to lead us to the business district. Each passerby eyed us scrupulously, some even slinking behind us as if to get a better look. Alanur did well to throw the followers off our backs. He need only turn around and glare at them. A big man with a temper has a tendency to do that to smaller, sickly Humes who have nothing better to do. I kept the reins in my hand, guiding Alpha, while Alanur played the role as as our guard, with his sword drawn and at ready should our prisoner try to run.

“I’m seeing wells in the market,” I said to no one in particular. Melana joined me at my side. “Too many.”

“Opals,” Alpha said muffled. “It has opals.”

We pressed on through the market, keeping to the less populated areas. Those tended to be soothsayers seeking patients and herbalists who looked like they couldn’t tell the difference between grinrich leaves and weeds. Melana tugged me back and Alpha bumped into her.

“Sorry,” he said.

“There,” she said, and pointed down an alley. At the far end, it opened into some kind of small field, like a tiny farm nestled in the middle of the market. “That well looks different from the others.”

I extended my sight. The arch over the well was high and pointed, the stones cut perfectly. Little bits of the semitransparent rock were thrown into the crevices on the arch. The well had a large lip, like a seat for the one drawing water.

“That’s the one,” I said, pulling my senses back. “A well with opals.”

We moved in that direction, but were stopped suddenly by one of the herbalists. He must have been watching us. He ran ahead of me and grabbed me up by the shirt. I was pinned against the wall after that. His face was emaciated, his sharp cheekbones like little discs trying to push their way out of his skin. His eyes were gaping brown holes, lost entirely to the reality around him. I was so frightened for how quickly he moved, I completely ignored the stench of shit, leaves and dirt coating his hands.

“Saved you, saved you I have,” he said quickly. “Life is yours if you want it. Saved you I have.”

Alanur was there the next second and yanked the blundering herbalist off me. He kicked him to the ground and the herbalist crawled away.

“Shove off,” Alanur said, stepping towards the herbalist with a threatening gesture. He growled and the man slid back.

“Fine,” the herbalist said. He sat up straight and dusted his hands. “Die today. Saved you I tried. Live you won’t. Witch she is.” He pointed to the alley. I turned. Someone was there watching us under a heavy cloak. “Witch she is, day and night. Where evil stems, day and night. Die today. Saved you I tried. Live you won’t.”

NaNo 2011: Day 21 Wrap-up

Nine days left. YIKES!

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Words written today: 3,011
Finishing word count: 37,341

Favorite lines:

Melana retired early that evening, as did the brothers. Alanur and I remained at the table, swapping stories of our distanced pasts, his understandably more vivid than my own. He had war stories, tales of conquering enemies that were seas away. He had lived longer than most veterans, he told me. He found the secret to a long life after war. Alanur leaned in close to me, his breath singing of mead, and said it was to not put your ass where it might get bitten.

I had a good laugh at that. I didn’t have friends like this back home. Patricio was a handful as a Hume, his lack of personal skills and clinginess the reason I never tried finding a girl to date. He’d ruin it one way or another, and I wouldn’t have it be him trying to give me a pep talk of where to stick my member. Alanur was great. Fatherly, hard to read at times, but he had Melana’s interest at heart one hundred percent of the time. I learned he had pushed her study a broad variety of magic while he had no training himself. He preferred barbaric combat, not of that where you could strike an enemy from afar like a coward, as he put it. I took no offense.

I stayed away from the mead that night as I tried to collect my thoughts about Melana and what I had wanted to ask Alanur. He reclined back in his chair.

“Can I ask you something personal?” I said.

He sat erect again and set his hands flat on the table. “Anything.” There was no slur of speech there, as if all the mead had suddenly drained from his body. I didn’t want to know where.

I thought putting it bluntly might be the proper way in Alanur’s company. “Are you and Melana a couple?”

He rubbed his finger under his nose as if stroked an imaginary mustache and grinned. “Do we send that signal?”

“I don’t know,” I said, instantly trying to change the subject. He seemed too well appropriated to the question.

“The answer is no,” he said. “I’ve been around her for a long time. Her body is eighteen. She is older.” He paused and rubbed his finger on the table. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Part of me wanted to run from the cottage. All the sudden, the racks of weapons seemed they could have been aimed at me.

“Before you run away scared, thinking I might not approve, let me give you some advice. You’ve been with a woman, right?”

Do I say yes just to get the conversation rolling? It didn’t matter now. For however long I took to answer that, and it couldn’t have been any longer than five seconds, Alanur suspected the answer.

“Ah,” he said.

“Ah, what?” I asked.

“It’s fine, really. You’re young. Doesn’t matter.”

“You make it sound like it does.”

“Think nothing of it. Anyway, Melana doesn’t put her feelings out in the open like a normal woman you may or may not have bed.”

He put it so fine. I should have told him how she kissed me when we were alone in her chambers.

“It’s not my business to know if she’s been with anyone, either,” he added. “The last thing I want this to become is a father-son talk, for obvious reasons. Just know that she’s like an egg. You have to crack that layer to get to know her. As thin as it might be, she protects her emotions well. As you saw, she was ready to do something desperate when she confronted the polymorph. I have never seen her react so quickly.”

“I don’t want to have to force it out of her,” I said. “Are my feelings for her that far in the open?”

“It’s only the way you look at her. Believe me, when the time comes, I won’t intrude. She deserves a chance to be with someone who can respect her. I think you’ve got a shot.”

I wanted to jump out of the chair and hoot and holler. That would have been all sorts of inappropriate. Instead, I laughed inwardly and looked at the table just to play it safe. Alanur was still her guardian. Silence came between us, my thoughts stirring in all different directions. For a brief second, I imagined her naked and grinned.

Alanur cleared his throat and I instantly looked up.

“You know I’ll have to kill you if you hurt her, though,” he added.

“You are just her guardian, right?”

“Guardian. Mentor. Second father. Whatever you want to call it. I’ll always be around to protect her, but it’ll be nice to have someone else to help me out.”

NaNo 2011: Day 15 Wrap-up

Well, it seems that while the NaNoWriMo website underwent some fixes today, my graph would not update which means it will not show my finishing word count written today. And that just sucks. Anyway, I haven't made a NaNo post in a while. Here it goes.

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Words written today (but not recorded by the website @.@): 1,943

Finishing word count: 28,744

Favorite lines:

That was it. This thing, whatever it was, hinted it was one who killed my father. Lemmick lunged at us, the hand he had behind his back revealed holding the hilt of a sword, minus the blade. Before my mind could process it, an opaque yellow stone replacing the hand guard shimmered so fiercely, it made me turn away. I was pulled away, then looking over my shoulder to see it was Alanur’s doing. Lemmick had slashed downward, the blade that hadn’t been there a second earlier present and very real.

Hadrion and Hallund reacted and took Lemmick by both his arms and tossed him across the chamber with their combined strength. His back arched over a table and he fell head over heels. He did not stay down for long. Lemmick rose and in one go was in a sprint around the tether. The brothers were there again, in front of Melana and I, as was Alanur. The stone shimmered. I feared what it would mean this time around. The brothers each took a swing, but Lemmick dipped under both arms. My brain leapt ahead, seeing the sword cut them both down. Lemmick brought the sword at their head level, but the brothers were already out of its decapitating path.

I pushed Melana back instinctively when Alanur shoved me away. The guardian pushed off the ground, arms spread and he tackled Lemmick to the floor. Alanur rose to his feet, Lemmick thrashing but not deterring him, and threw the impostor through a gaping hole in the chamber wall. It was a perfect toss with precise strength to calculate the distance across the chamber. I didn’t know where it went, nor did I have the time to think about it. Lemmick crawled back through the hole, absent his sword, but his fierce smile was screaming, “I don’t need it,” in my head. He tossed off his cloak and spread his arms with a squared stance beneath him.

My channel went ablaze, reacting to everything his channel was putting out. It was too much and my eyes started watering. I backed up again, unable to focus on Lemmick. Everything in the chamber started spinning. Melana held me up straight long enough to see Lemmick cast an enormous missile that spiraled out of his hands with tails like comets. She pulled me out of its path. Alanur and the brothers were not as fortunate. They were taken off their feet, each of them as light as rag dolls in the force of the missile, and landed in motionless piles on the ground. I worked myself up to my elbows, staring at the three. I pushed out with my channel, begging they were alive.

NaNo 2011: Day 7 Wrap-up

I wouldn't usually make a NaNo post two days in a row, but I knocked my words out of the ballpark today. So, I just had to gloat. With another day off tomorrow and a Starbucks gift card at my disposal, I may go into another writing comatose.

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Words written today: 4,009
Finishing word count: 15,110

Favorite lines:

Lucel made a sound hinting that he understood how my conversation went based on my silence. He didn’t make an attempt to talk to me about Irien, but took me by the shoulder. We waited under the breezeway that would take us into the coliseum and before the Affinity Council. For a half hour, we just waited, each in silence. Lucel didn’t leave my side. He must have sensed everything I was feeling, but he kept it all contained, trying not to instruct me what to say, but rather letting speak from the heart.

“You knew my father well, right, Lucel?”

“He was one of my best friends in school. He helped me with a great deal of my work when I began falling behind.”

I chuckled. “I would have never seen you as the type of student who fell behind.”

“When my mother passed away, all the motivation I had to do better went with her. My father wanted nothing to do with mages, the arts or the Affinity. He would not support his own son. Despite all rumors, mages can be born to non-mage parents. I’m one such mage.”

“You helped make me who I am,” I said.

“And your father helped make me who I am. You are much like him in your young age. Your brother,” Lucel said with a sigh, seeming to suddenly travel back in time, “less so.”

NaNo 2011: Day 6 Wrap-up

The words posted here were written yesterday, but I finished at such a late hour, I had no energy to post it to the blog. Seeing as today I won't be able to write until I get home at 6pm, these words will suffice. Also, I had to choose two sections of lines, as I was really unable to judge myself which I liked more.

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Finishing word count: 10,057

Chapter 3 favorite lines:

I began crying, the facade of the strong, young man I always wore overtaken by an afraid, lonely child.

“I’m so sorry, Mother,” I said as she kneeled next to me. I buried my face in her shoulder, unable to contain anything.

Even though we thought it all to be over, with Kolin the Ironback’s family and friends around him in mourning, the ground shook more. Looking out into a fiery sky, we watched the Erishore tower sink into the chasm that had opened around it. Layer upon layer dropped, the middle of the structure then falling off the foundation. There was nothing to hold our sight after that, but still we looked and waited, each of us the shade of blood under a red dawn.

Chapter 4 favorite lines:

I stood in the field again, still unplowed. My hands were stuffed in my pockets. I was tempted to sit down in the chair, but I didn’t want to appear too nonchalant, even to mother. I left her alone, but I dared not leave home unless she asked me. My mind kept returning to the sight of my father’s body. His once strong arms had been sliced up the soft side, practically deveining him. His chest had been caved in, as if beaten with a mallet, and then slashed up for good measure. Both eyes had been blackened, his lips swollen and the bridge of his nose shattered. Whatever did that to him took its time, and took care in the process. I would reap all that and worse to the thing responsible, be it a person or creature. Part of me hoped it was a person. I never thought of myself as the violent type, but I’d gut the bastard and throw his innards to the crows.

I shook my head, trying to make myself less heated. My mother taught me better. My professors showed me how to be fierce, but upstanding. I didn’t know if I’d be able to balance that anymore.

NaNo 2011: Day 3 Wrap-up

Before I proceed with NaNo news, there is an announcement which must be forwarded.

My awesome critique partner, friend and writing mentor, Stephanie Loree, has finally been put in print. Her debut short story, THE SKIN SCRIPT, is now appearing in An Honest Lie Vol. 3: Justifiable Hypocrisy, by Open Heart Publishing.

I've only read the first draft before it became the published version, but I was sold. Her characters are rich and the depths you experience from them demands that the story not end. I do plan on reading it again for myself, and I urge all my blogging friends to support Steph on her debut piece. You can visit the link to Open Heart for an excerpt of The Skin Script.

Now, onto NaNo news!

Because I worked a 10.5 hour day yesterday, I did no writing, despite all my attempts and urgings that I WAS going to write at least a measly 500 words when I got home. That didn't happen. So, today on my only day off, I had to write double the words lest I be mocked by the Estimate Day of Finish displaying December 15th.

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Finishing word count: 5746

Favorite lines:

He finally put his back to me, dropped his crutch and threw off his cloak. I noticed his body slumping in the direction of his good leg, but it didn’t prevent him from proceeding. My eyes went to his cotton shirt. His marks and brands were glowing through it. I didn’t know the marks had that kind of power. His shirt came off next and my mouth dropped. At least ten more brands were spaced over his back, surrounded by marks and the occasional patch of flesh tone. From black to green, they glowed. The show wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

I’m pretty sure my heart skipped a beat when I watched the marks begin to move over his skin, still black and green. Kolin pursued the chanting and his marks reacted. The brands uncoiled like tiny garter snakes and slithered over his shoulders, around his ribs, and to his front. It was as if he was Hume for a moment. What I thought was a natural ink born on our skin at birth was nowhere close to what was happening: the marks rose off his body, each seeming to join with others to become the width of ribbons. When the marks attached to the shell exterior, my heart skipped a beat again and I curled my toes more tightly.

The gears inside thumped again and the ribbons became taught. Kolin pushed his arms out to his sides, his slump ever more present at this point. As the ribbons withdrew back to his skin, eventually drawing onto his back again, the shell peeked open. The power that struck the heat shield around me was instant. The chamber was a celebration of emerald light after it had been released. The surge of power continued, not yet finished, but the shield held as my father said. When the shell’s sides finally lay horizontal to the floor, the tip of each piece sparked to life. That tiny crystallized bead of energy shattered. Thread-thin beams of light converged at a point above the shell and all at once, the force that smacked the shield was that of a battering ram.

NaNo 2011: Day 1 Wrap-up

Hailing in NaNoWriMo 2011, I was very happy to see the site didn't crash at all today. Perhaps I chose the right time to log on. Anyway, there's no particular format to my NaNo posts. I generally just share my favorite passages written today and my current word count. I came out of the gate strong today. I hope all of you do the same.

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Finishing word count: 2643


Favorite lines:

I lurched forward when something suddenly butted my shoulder. A well-fed Hume, another head taller and wider than me, took me around the shoulder. The downside of being shorter than him is when he decided to be overly friendly, usually a sign of his intoxication, he would put his arm around me and grace my nose with a wonderful man-scent.

“Let’s go to Grumnach’s!” he said to me.

“Can’t now, Patricio,” I said. I took his arm off me and ducked away for a moment to catch my breath. He didn’t notice. “Although I’d say you’ve had you’re share of ale today, right? What’s the occasion?”

“Celebrating life!” He joked a couple punches at my shoulder and ran ahead, turning and proceeded to jog backwards.

“Weren’t we celebrating life a week ago when you polished that ale barrel from my father’s cellar?”

“That was last week, Valence!” Patricio bumped into a Hume another head taller than him, who shoved him away for choosing idiocy over courtesy. He sported the grumpy Hume a mocking gesture I had never seen.

Pre-NaNo 2011 Series: The Structure Sheet, or "How To Convert A Pantser."

In early March, after the euphoria of my first NaNo win had worn off, I was struggling to go back and make Bond of Darkness better. This was when the plot wasn't working (and I failed to see it). I had pantsed my way through NaNo 2010, and my project at the time, The Shattered Darkness, a sequel to a currently unfinished first manuscript. Yeah, I did the bad thing.

This is when my awesometacular critique partner, Steph, shared with our critique group her structure sheet for plotting. I haven't used another plotting sheet since then. That's how well it works.

So, for the next post in the Pre-NaNo series, I figured I would share it with you. I'm sure variations of the plotting structure sheet exist, but this is what I use. Thanks, Steph. You're a writer's life saver.

The structure sheet consists of three acts, each respective to a certain point in the manuscript as the plot progresses. Let's begin.

Act 1 is your Expository. We learn about the world and the people inhabiting it. We learn what is about to happen that forces our protagonist's hand to do something. 

Act 1 consists of the following:

The Inciting Incident. This is the first time your stakes are likely introduced. It takes some time, for you first should build your world and show me what is leading to this event that is going to change everything. Then, something goes wrong. It should matter enough to the protagonist so the consequence's do not affect them in the end.

First Act Turn. This consists of a following in this order: Choice, First Disaster, and Consequence. Let's rewind for a moment, however. Your first disaster is technically your second disaster, as you've already written the Inciting Incident. Remember that. The stakes have already been created. Choice stems from your Inciting Incident. Your protagonist must fix this. However, what are they to do? Typically, they don't know the grand scheme of things yet, and this leads to your Disaster. They mess up, or overlook something, and now have something else to consider or fix, lest they suffer the Consequence of their Choice.                          

Act 2 is your Rising Action. Your protagonist learns more and grows more. The event they are trying to prevent reveals itself more.

Act 2 consists of the following:

The Midpoint. The unexpected happens here. This is moment when things go sideways, things get worse, and the stakes are raised again. This often comes with a revelation that while the problem is connected in a way to the protagonist, it is also bigger than him/her. Glimpses of the larger picture are revealed yet again. If the big picture has been introduced early on, then change it up and make things more personal for the protagonist.

The Lowpoint. You're getting to the 75% mark in your manuscript. Here, the protagonist learns that trying to fix everything, beginning with the incident and the other disasters caused by choices, are hopeless. The protagonist begins to think they will never win because they learn the full scope of the problem. The stakes escalate again, often paired with a sacrifice. Do not mistake this as you, the writer, having to kill a character, although it is usually what happens. The more problematic things become, however, the protagonist learns perhaps they we're meant to fix this problem. He/She learns their role. The learning of the role can go two ways: it can either frighten the protagonist, or deepen their resolve to make a difference. 

Second Act Turn. This is essentially the same as above, but with all things in place, remember that you're closing in on the end.

Act 3 is your Falling Action. They have come to confront the antagonist and/or the problem. The final battle ensues.

Act 3 consists of the following:

Climax. The stake raise one final time here. Your antagonist is one crazy son of a bitch and they want to defeat your protagonist. Here, the protagonist learns why exactly everything happened the way they did and all of the past events culminate to being the most personal at this point in time. It's do or die. Failure is not an option.

Resolution. The final battle is over. Your protagonist has either defeated the antagonist or learns there is more to be done, despite winning. Things are still wrong, and will continue to go wrong. For stand alone manuscripts, it is the end. For series manuscripts, the cliff hanger is introduced. 

So, here, at the end of all things (yes, channeling Frodo), you have you're structure sheet. I encourage you to try it out. It works.

Until NaNo, Peace and Writing Love.

JWP

Pre-NaNo 2011 Series: Cover Art

Here is the cover art for my NaNo 2011 novel, as promised.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

NaNoWriMo 2011

So, before this kicks off, I'm butting my head against a wall because I haven't posted in about two months. I'm a sucky blogger lately. That is all. Let's stay on topic.

November 1st will arrive in a short ten days. It was at this point this morning that I went, "Fail..."

However, I'm not entirely behind. In the recent weeks, after working on various other projects, the spark for my first and baby manuscript ignited once again. The best part being that I have a new plot, and that freshness and raw simplicity of where I'm taking the story just boggles me sometimes.

For the longest time, I couldn't find any way to make that manuscript, Bond of Darkness, any better. Friends of the old story, I do hope you come back and support me for the new plot. It takes a really interesting look into some science-fantasy concepts I've been dreaming up, all wrapped nicely (with a bow) in an immense world, stuffed inside a jam-packed multiverse of awesome.

No pantsing this year, either. While I did win NaNo 2010 by pantsing, this time I have an outline to go by. I'm feverishly working to finish all of Act 2 (of 3), hoping I can get 50,000 words out of them. 

Stayed tuned for the fun, and by fun, I mean insanity. Tuesday, I'll be creating and posting my NaNo project cover art (I hope). Also, instead of posting whole excerpts like I did last year, I'll only be taking the last few paragraphs of the word count on the day of posting. I'll try for two posts a week, like last year.

Peace, Writing, and for the love of coffee houses and repeating playlists.

JWP

"Show Me Yours" Blogfest

Today kicks off the "Show Me Yours" Blogfest, hosted by Summer Frey. Visit the LINK PAGE to see all the participants. The goal of the blogfest is sweet and simple. Post a 500 word excerpt from your NaNoWriMo 2010 project. Since 2010 was my first NaNo ever, I was stoked to have won. Now to share. FYI: My excerpt is a little over 500 words.

Enjoy.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

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From The Shattered Darkness, Chapter 7

At mid sun the next day, Eris arrived at the Crystal Pool, whose surrounding grounds seemed strangely attended. Phinella was true as to the Pool’s beauty and all of Eris' rapture of being given yet another way to locate Valence forced her to run to it. She leaned over the well. Roots along its lip raised like a dome over it. The stones forming the well were a soft gray, more pristine in appearance than the welcoming grounds. All around the inside of the dome, brass bowls had been fastened to it, each bearing a small flame cuddled in the Elf brand embers.

She held her hand over the water and a ripple went across it a moment later. The ring began at the center and pushed out, an image forming over the soft wakes as they moved. Valence appeared on the surface, sending looks left and right as if watching for something. The scene surrounding him focused next, familiar buildings and hatched roofs at his back. He stood under a bare tree with nearly no color. Eris waited for him steadfast, before he looked directly at her. She turned around, sure he might have been looking around her, but when she turned back, he nodded and smiled.

“Valence?”

He mouthed words, but there was no voice to them. She waited before he seemed to repeat himself. “Where are you,” he was saying.

“I’m with the Elves,” she said aloud. “I’ve been looking for you. I need you.”

He mouthed, “Come home.”

“I can’t, I—” She paused and looked around. “I’m a week away.”

“Please,” he said. The water rippled again, now more violent. It sloshed against the well walls and splashed onto the edge.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“It’s mom and dad.”

Eris reeled back, Valence’s face contorted as something pulled him away from the water. A shadow dashed in front of the Pool and a bullet of water shot up from it. It drenched the roots and stone, but Eris sat a foot away, reclining on her arms and watching it. It was not long before she scrambled up, all of Phinella’s warnings forgotten in her greed. She crawled for the Pool and put her head through the water, allowing her body to fall in after. She twirled, legs over body, before the wash and push of the water spit he out onto hard ground of dirt and pebbles. A woman screamed in the distance and she pulled her chin up to glance level at the ground. She breathed at the dirt and watched feet scamper by her eyes.

She was yanked to stand by a two-handed grip on her cloak and thrown into a choke. The arm beneath her throat was black-skinned, minute prickly hairs lining its arm like razors.

“Pretend to be dead, girl?” the thing at her back asked. It growled hunger and hissed in her ear. A worm-like tongue slid down her lobe and she shied away from it.

Eris thrashed, a well-placed heel to the creature’s leg and the thing released her. She spun around, the creature whirling back to face her just as her saber met its neck. Its head plopped off and bobbled across the ground. After the creature’s body dropped, she looked at the head. Its face was pulled up in a snout, the nose two swine-like slits for breathing. Beady dark eyes sat above high boned cheeks, almost hidden, and they gleamed like obsidian in death.

NaNoWriMo: FOR THE WIN!

HECK YES! First NaNoWriMo Win! My year long happy dance begins now.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

NaNoWriMo: Day Twenty-Eight

So close. This is the last excerpt before the win, which I am expecting a day early (ie: tomorrow). Enjoy and I wish all my other NaNo cohorts a good finish in their dash for the 30th.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 15 excerpt

The boat inched forward as if caught on a wake. Something was pushing them. They rocked for a moment and the bow shifted left slightly.

“Keep it straight, Sen.” Issy’s hand tightened around Senic’s. She scooted closer to him and lay her head against his.

The boat drifted on, the front taking its course now. The cavern opened to a wide chamber, the canal feeding into a vast lake. Knolls of grass existed on various islands that sprouted from the lake, the flowers from the other plain growing here as well. Gerad looked to the cavern ceiling as they drifted through the water. He could not keep his mind away from what Melana would have thought of this journey. After a short ride in silence, each of them looking to different areas of the lake, a larger wake rocked their starboard side. It was a minor splash at fist, followed up by a series of larger, more violent shoves. The green water sloshed onto their feet and boat bottom, drying as it had on Kyona’s hand. The wakes came from all directions, thrusting their boat unnavigable as Senic and Issy toppled over on each other.

“What’s happening?” Kyona asked.

“I feel something ahead,” Issy said. “It’s really strong.” She leaned away from the bow as the water continued to spray over the sides. She whined and put her head on her brother’s shoulder. “It hurts.”

“What do you feel?” Aroth asked.

“I can’t think right,” she cried. Senic also cried out, putting his hands out ahead, trying to hold off their pain.

“Something is pushing on me. A bad headache.”

“It is the domain’s defenses,” Aroth said. “Hang on, this is about to get rough.”

The water began to bubble and froth. Their boat spun in the foam and quickly took off across the lake, speeding by the small land dots and missing them barely. Giant upsurges of water stabbed into the air around them as they passed, as if siege engines were bombarding fire around their vessel. The green rain sprinkled down and they entered another cavern, the lake thinning off into a river again. The stinging water spat at them from the bow as they tore across the surface, and the children ducked low to the bench, gripping it.

“Don’t lose track, kids,” Aroth yelled to them. “This voyage is still under your control. Think through it.”

“It hurts!” Issy cried. “Make it stop.”

“Focus, Issy,” Kyona said.

She reached over Gerad, sitting on the boat floor with the kids and held them steady.

Gerad glared up ahead where a split in the river appeared. “Quick, Issy. You can do it. Help your sister, Senic.”

Although they continued to whine, the boat trembled, fighting to take both directions. It rocked wildly in the twins’ mental battle to take them down the right path. The river flooded into the boat now, filling too quickly to evaporate.

“Right,” Issy called, her brother repeating it almost on top of her. They rose up on their knees, taking their hands to the bow. The boat struggled for a second longer before they careened to the chosen path.

“Keep at it!” Aroth demanded again.

The children continued to call out the directions as they just came to the multiple paths the river opened at. The skimmed the side of the cavern, riding the wall as one of their choices came too late. The water continued to fill the boat.

“I see land ahead,” Kyona said. “A bit more, kids.”

Their screams became unbearable now, the pressure finally touching Gerad, also. The front of the boat sunk, mere yards from the shore the opened before them. The water weight inside the vessel took over and the bow dove under. The river gushed at them and they each went beneath the surface.

Gerad tossed and spun, blowing air through his mouth and yelling. His eyes bolted open, a green rush in his face and bubbles being thrown at him. He saw Kyona sweep ahead of him and he attempted to grab her, but she had wrapped herself around Issy. Senic was nowhere to be found. He spun over in the torrent, Aroth seemingly unconscious and being dragged at the rear. He heaved in, water entering his throat, but he burst out of the river with his next choking breath. They thudded onto the land with a flood tossing them ashore. He hacked and slammed his hand against his chest to spit up. Kyona rolled onto her side, Issy held in her arms with one hand covering her face. Splinters of wood exploded behind him as the boat found the shore. He wobbled to his feet, staggering to Kyona first. He pulled Issy off her and then took her up. Aroth came from behind, falling to the grass next to him.

Aroth took in an exhausted breath and looked up. He stared around. “Where’s the boy?” he asked. “Where is Senic?”

Gerad scanned the shore and gasped, stepping forward. “Renikarr, no,” he said in a prolonged breath. Senic lay face down in grass not ten steps ahead of them. He did not move.

NaNoWriMo: Day Twenty-Five

Happy Thanksgiving to all my cohorts. Extended greetings to my family, who I am away from for the first holiday season ever. And I tell you, it is really hard to be at work today, despite it being Disney and all, and not with my family.

But, regardless, I found a good connection in the cafeteria here on property, so I'll be Skyping with them all very soon. That brightens my day a bit.

Here is my latest excerpt.

Peace and Writing Love, plus Turkey.

JWP

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 14 excerpt


At the other end of the chamber, cut out of the rug, was a similar patch of floor where Ismer showed that he prayed. He took an interest in the prayer circle once more, kneeling at it with a finger on the line. He had noticed it with Ismer’s circle, but tiny lines formed interior rings. They were spaced not even inches apart, pegs connecting them at various parts.

“That’s not like the other prayer circle,” Mefist said. He kneeled next to Valence and the moment after, a whirlwind force pulled them to the ground. There was a flash of green, terribly bright, and something smacked at his back. He opened his eyes, daring the light’s intensity, but it was gone. They lay on the floor outside the circle.

“This seems too similar,” Valence said to the Demi.

“I think you’re right.” Mefist gathered himself and pulled Valence up. “And, I don’t think that was a prayer circle.” He looked around the new room. It was not the one that gave homage to day and night, but something else entirely. “In fact, I’m sure of it. We were portaled somewhere.”

“I think this is a ley,” Valence said, “but I’ve never seen an active one. I wonder what we did.”

“Who cares.” Mefist took in their new surroundings. “Whichever of the Archons called this tower home had no sense of decor. A chair and work table over there,” he said, pointing to it, “and some candles. Very homy. All the power in the world, messengers of the gods, and they can’t put a carpet down?”

Valence ignored Mefist’s complaints and found the door leading to what was likely the stairs down. He had learned his lesson and did not doubt the glance down would fare him any more solid a stomach than the last. He looked along the walls. The construction of the towers were mostly similar, with differences attributing each keeper’s taste, but what had been left to preservation sent his mind walking. Ismer’s tower and the one before both had the rib-like beams running down the entire length. He had not thought it as anything more than supporting the height of the tower, but he looked more closely at the beams. Tube-like glass was on either side of the beam, running top to bottom. An energy fed off it, obviously unused for some time, but even the oldest trace amounts held to age. It felt Seentirulian in shape and depth, but it was very deep, as if the glass did not end at the floor. It was as if something beneath the ground gave the tower the energy supply.

He came back to Mefist, thinking. The Demi was sitting on the floor just outside the ley gate. “These towers are definitely strange. I think they were used as conductors of some kind. But, I can’t tell for what.”

“Fascinating,” Mefist said. “Does any of this help us, though?” He went to say something more, but was interrupted by the glow of the gate starting up again.

It hummed to them, a force behind the veil of the ley pushing into the empty chamber. It filled the room and a sudden pressure ran along Valence’s back, his instinct’s way of telling him that they were being watched. The green ran through the ley’s patterns and the air shimmered with a flash of prismatic color. He looked at Mefist, whose red eyes and black slits softened with concern. He, too, felt the presence coming at them.

“I don’t like the way this feels,” Mefist said.

“Neither do I,” Valence said. He put out his hand to feel
the wards on the tower. They had been there, but something was
sucking the protection away at a very quick rate. Layers over layers of ancient defenses were being bypassed.

“Damn,” he muttered. “I just remembered the bad thing about ley gates.”

“What’s that?”

“Anyone can use them. We took this gate from the sun and moon tower, but it could lead somewhere else, also.”

No sooner had he spoken, the shimmering air burst apart like shattering glass and a tendril shot out from the gate. It was writing through the air, visible in the space they stood and just not inside the threshold of the ley. It snapped and coiled, grabbing Valence up, but Mefist was already on it. He came down on the tendril with a sai, pinning it to the floor. The slimy arm detached from whatever body fed it, the pierced half wriggling. The cut portion morphed to a thin, deadly needle and slashed back at them.

Valence dodged back, but grabbed at his chest after the swing had passed over. Fine drops of his blood sprinkled across the floor. He took his steps back, Mefist guarding his front, as the tentacle morphed again to a shape bearing claws. Another tendril came from the threshold, also clawed. They reached for them and something larger was coming out of the gate. A thick mass, slick with a moist shell as its body, rolled from the ley, the claws dragging it forward into the chamber. It hissed and spat, minimizing their safe ground, and two eyes pushed down the body to look on them. They flickered to life, the glowing shapes not even blinking. They only stared. The thing hissed again, vicious, and lurched.

The body of the demon went right while the arms came from the other side. Mefist put himself in front of the arms and it fetched a strike that put him to the floor. The Demi fought to rise, but the tendrils slapped down on him and knocked him chest-flat again. Valence leapt over the arms as the body rolled for him, the eyes spinning upward as the body revolved. Its stare never left him.

NaNoWriMo: Day Twenty-Three

So I don't normally post my NaNo excerpts a day apart, nor do I normally post twice in a day, but I found my latest excerpt quite tasty. I also passed the 40k mark, so I'm feeling the win coming close.

Short and sweet, here's your next look.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 13 excerpt

She glanced back at Phinella, who was tending to her mare. A patch of sun hung over her, but the brushing of the trees put it out. Eris looked up to the branches, but it was not the drifts putting out away the light. The shadow of something in the crowns moved across the air, stopping where the sunlight was shining through. When the things had blotted all the nearest sunbeams, she saw their faces. The Trapos warriors had followed them to the Crystal Pool, waiting and watching with bows dangling in their arms.

Phinella looked at her, a sweet smile on her and none the wiser of the assault awaiting them from above. The mistress’ expression changed when she next looked at her directly and she gave her a nod. She mouthed, “Do what you must.”

Eris dug her heel into the dirt, gave the snakes a second glance over and sprinted for Phinella. One dropped from the branches between them, its arms stretching for her. She doubled back and spun away from the snake, her hands already ahead of her and yellow aura snapping to life around them. She pushed at the Trapos as it brought its face to her. What should have been ochre eyes, splinters of black in them, were instead pure coal. The warrior flew off his feet, but the other snakes dropped around them before the first could hit the ground.

She motioned for Phinella toward her, yelling “Run!” The mistress slapped her own mare and the she took off for Eris. The pair of horses blitzed off into the forest. Phinella buried herself in her student’s arms and they ran for the Pool. Eris touched the well’s edge first when a thick twang slashed into the air. The mistress stumbled, instant dead weight, and Eris also dropped from the Phinella’s arm grabbing her leg. She spun around, drawing her in, but glared upon a two-foot long arrow driving out just below her shoulder.

Phinella did not so much as whine. She was simply silent. Eris crawled over her body, touching the shaft of the arrow lightly. She yanked her hand back when the mistress moaned and was grateful for it to have not been fatal. She rolled her over as the Trapos closed around them, but she gave the mistress her attention.

“Can you sit up?” she asked.

“Do it, dear,” Phinella said, her words in a mumble. She forced her head at the Trapos and let it drop back against Eris’ chest. She had seen their eyes. “Now.”

The Trapos launched themselves at the women, worse weaponry than bows coming at them. Deadly spears with coiling, tiny teeth were raised above their heads. One pike embedded itself inches from their feet and Phinella scurried back from it. Another soared at them, but Eris was already on her knees with her hands to the trees. An aura shield blazed from the dirt, coursing potent and solid. The spear cracked against the shield and bounced off in two pieces. The useless tosses of their spears did not stop the attack, however. The snakes put their fists to the shield, repelled with each strike and dazed, but they came back with heavier hits and more determined.

Eris leaned back with each hit, the aura snapping her will harshly. Each of their fists put a rebounding tone through her head, an echo that would not quit.

“They’re coming through, Eris,” Phinella said, sliding back further. “Can you hold it?”

She fumbled with her answer. The barrage was sapping everything from her. “I don’t know.” She stuttered off the last word and clenched her lips. “I need to...I need—”

“Don’t speak. Just think.”

“Think what?” Her question was lost under the ravaging hisses of the snakes. They glared at her through the shield, but showed no sign of weakness. A larger one, the first to have spotted them when they had crossed into their territory, flicked its tongue, tasting the aura. It slurped its tongue back in and jumped on top of the shield. A knife was then in its hand, driving down. Eris knew the knife’s point came through the shield, for she was knocked to her end on the rebound. She shook her head and looked up. An inch or two of the steel was stuck, but the warrior did not pulled it back. All four arms went to work where the knife had punctured.

Phinella screamed as another knife came at the shield in front of them, also barely puncturing it. The grounded warriors followed the other’s lead.

“I won’t be able to hold it,” Eris said, her breath escaping her. “They’ll be through soon.”

A sharp splinter cracked down the wall of the shield and Eris glared at it in horror. She looked up to the Trapos warrior, who had his face pressed to the barrier. His coal eyes set a curse on her: that they would not escape their murderous assault. He hissed, his open mouth drawing air and calling the others to him. The grounded Trapos crawled to him, tangling in a dark green ball of arms, heads and black eyes. They slapped at the shield, coming ever closer to them.

Phinella had slipped away, the blood loss taking her to an unconscious sleep. Eris backed against the well and clung a hand to the root dome, trying to maintain any shred of bravery left in her. A thought spun in her mind and she turned herself around, leaving Phinella to lay and looked at the dome. The Trapos were situated just above it.

She kept herself apart from the well, hands open at it and scanning the wards. She would require great power to ignite it and that would force her to pull back the shield’s protection slightly. Phinella grabbed her leg, but did not make a sound, and Eris readied herself. She pulled all the will left in her to her core and spread it down her arms. The channels were bleeding to be released from the incantation she was thinking. She blinked, her spell snapping to life the instant she pulled the protection away from the shield. Fire was in her hands and touched the roots. They were taken up immediately, the barrier no longer protection enough from the heat. She whispered another word, twirling her hands and releasing the full fury of the raging fire. It leapt and spun upward, consuming the Trapos.

The snakes screamed and hissed, jumping from the barrier over the well. Dancing tongues fell from the smoldering scales as they tried to pat it out in the dirt, but unsuccessfully. The fire wrapped around their bodies swift and merciless. Eris pulled the shield back and kept the fire steady on the Trapos. She strained to hold the fire and the rebounding heat made her back away. It was growing heavier by the second, but their dying hisses only fueled a greater passion to hold the torture on them.

When the last Trapos stopped moving, no more than a black charred corpse, Eris broke the link of the incantation and flicked her hands to cool the burn. She returned for Phinella, who sitting half-turned against the well, observing its ruin. She seemed to be teary-eyed, her cheeks red and lost in the emotion of seeing the ancient Pool as no more than wasted space.

“Eris,” Phinella said, weakly, “what have you done?”

“I am sorry, Mistress.” Eris took Phinella against her body and cradled her. “It was the only thing I could do.”

“I know, dear. But, Valence. You have taken away your only chance of finding him.” She paused and took in slow breaths. “I know of no other way to help you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Finding him would have meant nothing if I had lost you in the process. You’ve given me so much. You are the teacher who never gave up on me when everyone else did.”

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?”

NaNoWriMo: Day Seventeen

Day seventeen! Yes, a milestone that felt as good as day fifteen when I was able to pass 25,000 words. I made my 31,000 mark only two days later. Now my NaNo Stats graph can't laugh at me for at least another day.

Here is the latest chosen excerpt.

Enjoy and continued writing success through November.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 9 excerpt

Athmore coughed and massaged his neck. “We should get back to them. They get a little strange around this hour. I hate to see how they pass the time now.”

Yinadi smiled a large grin, the man he had shown himself to be—the speaker for the steward—now gone beneath the image of a mischievous Weaver. Athmore’s student dashed off into the shadows of skinny trees along the next hill, the grass short as if trimmed recently. Yinadi led them along a half beaten road side that showed a small farm house in the distance. A few other dwellings, residents of Gundo or not, rose up around the farmland just outside the fence line. Athmore breathed heavy and raspy, his age catching up with him for how swiftly Yinadi was taking them across the up and downs of the land.

Yinadi hid behind a tree, his body fitting its shape almost perfect. He picked up a rock, sized it with a short toss and gave Athmore a nod. He ran off toward the farmhouse, hunched and quick, and released the rock with a well readied arm. Yinadi staggered forward from the follow through and doubled back to their location. The clack of the rock hitting the fence bounced softly back. A moment later, the door opened and a figure strolled out. His whistle was also soft, but as noticeable as Athmore’s. The man twirled a walking staff up and tapped it on the fence’s gate post and returned to the house as commonly as he had come.

Athmore moved from behind his tree and went for the farmhouse first. The man at the fence left the door open, the golden glow of the inside spreading on his advance.

“Come,” Yinadi said. “They’re expecting us.”

Gerad and Kyona tailed Yinadi, hanging in his shadow as they entered the house. A pungent fusty scent hit him in the face. While it seemed to come from all directions, any crack or split floorboard, they approached the house’s attendant. He smiled toothless and pointed his walking stick at the far wall.

Athmore did not speak to the man, but slid his finger down the side of his eyepatch. The man’s toothless grin became a laugh and mumbled words over an old tongue sounding like, “Good to have you back.” Athmore patted the wall and something like a foot thumped behind it. Two sharp lines cracked down the wall on either side of him and continued on through the floorboards. Dust puffed up from the floor and it shifted beneath them.

“The door, Yindai,” Athmore said. “Let our guests down.”

Athmore stepped off where the floorboards showed their separation, Gerad and Kyona backing with him, and Yinadi jammed his fingers into two knots in the wood. The knots fell out, false plugs it seemed, and he hoisted a portion of the floor up and let it rest against the wall.

Gerad glanced down the rickety steps sending them to a level in the house that was beneath the ground. Yinadi went first, Kyona and Athmore after him, leaving only Gerad standing at the top, still examining the sturdiness of the steps. The old man at his back whistled and he turned.

He smiled, shooing him with his hand, and mumbled, “It’s worth it.”

At the bottom, he met Kyona and Yinadi. Athmore was already paces ahead of them in a tunnel leading nowhere. Another wall came to them at the end. Voices were on the opposite side, cheering also mixed with shouts that sounded like wagers being placed on something. When Athmore shoved the at wall with his shoulder, it slid like the solid slab it was, but gave way to a larger room that looked every part of being burrowed from the earth. Roots hung from the clotted dirt ceiling and lined the walls. The occupants slowly turned to them, some seated on tree stumps and others toward the center. Two men floated in the air above the crowd, a wavy field of energy under their backs. They appeared the most surprised by Athmore’s arrival.

“Testing levitation?” Athmore asked. Smiles grew across the gathering. “Who’s the high bidder. I’m in!” Roars and laughter jumped from the men, hands slapping Athmore’s back as he disappeared into the crowd.

Yinadi turned to them, the last hint of the speaker Jarrin disappearing in his grin. “Meet the Steeltongues.”

NaNoWriMo: Day Fifteen

Welcome to the halfway point of NaNoWriMo 2010. While I was not able to write much yesterday, I'll be past the 25k point later in the day. On that note, I'd like to congratulate Dawn Embers for reaching a whopping 50,000 words. She has another fifteen days to reach her goal of 100,000 words. Keep up the fantastic work, Dawn!

Here's your excerpt for the day. Enjoy and I wish continued success to you all through November.
Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

* * *

The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 7 excerpt

“So, why is it called the Crystal Pool?”

“Do not reach for the water in the well. It will tease you with beautiful things that seem so near, but it is only a vision.”

Eris mulled all of Phinella’s warnings about the Pool and would wait for the next sun. She turned to the mistress, who was already examining her as she thought. “Can you teach me before sunrise?”

*

Eris rolled in her bed that night, the sheets twisting around her legs and body. She kept her arms up, folded beneath the pillow and aching.

Her eyes were hot and heavy, begging to close after the hours of quick and hard training Phinella had given her. The mistress said she had not taught a student in years and hoped she had done it right. While Eris had all her faith in Phinella, such confidence did not keep her awake. Weariness folded over her eyes and she was taken to sleep.

At mid sun the next day, she arrived at the Crystal Pool, whose surrounding grounds seemed strangely attended. Phinella was true as to the Pool’s beauty and all of Eris’ rapture of being given yet another way to locate Valence forced her to run to it. She leaned over the well. Roots along its lip raised like a dome over it. The stones forming the well were a soft gray, more pristine in appearance than the welcoming grounds. All around the inside of the dome, brass bowls had been fastened to it, each bearing a small flame cuddled in the Elf brand embers.

She held her hand over the water and a ripple went across it a moment later. The ring began at the center and pushed out, an image forming over the soft wakes as they moved. Valence appeared on the surface, sending looks left and right as if watching for something. The scene surrounding him focused next, familiar buildings and hatched roofs at his back. He stood under a bare tree with nearly no color. Eris waited for him steadfast, before he looked directly at her. She turned around, sure he might have been looking around her, but when she turned back, he nodded and smiled.

“Valence?”

He mouthed words, but there was no voice to them. She waited before he seemed to repeat himself. “Where are you,” he was saying.

“I’m with the Elves,” she said aloud. “I’ve been looking for you. I need you.”

He mouthed, “Come home.”

“I can’t, I—” She paused and looked around. “I’m a week away.”

“Please,” he said. The water rippled again, now more violent. It sloshed against the well walls and splashed onto the edge.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“It’s mom and dad.”

Eris reeled back, Valence’s face contorted as something pulled him away from the water. A shadow dashed in front of the Pool and a bullet of water shot up from it. It drenched the roots and stone, but Eris sat a foot away, reclining on her arms and watching it. It was not long before she scrambled up, all of Phinella’s warnings forgotten in her greed. She crawled for the
Pool and put her head through the water, allowing her body to fall in after. She twirled, legs over body, before the wash and push of the water spit he out onto hard ground of dirt and pebbles. A woman screamed in the distance and she pulled her chin up to glance level at the ground. She breathed at the dirt and watched feet scamper by her eyes.

She was yanked to stand by a two-handed grip on her cloak and thrown into a choke. The arm beneath her throat was black-skinned, minute prickly hairs lining its arm like razors.

“Pretend to be dead, girl?” the thing at her back asked. It growled hunger and hissed in her ear. A worm-like tongue slid down her lobe and she shied away from it.

Eris thrashed, a well-placed heel to the creature’s leg and the thing released her. She spun around, the creature whirling back to face her just as her saber met its neck. Its head plopped off and bobbled across the ground. After the creature’s body dropped, she looked at the head. Its face was pulled up in a snout, the nose two swine-like slits for breathing. Beady dark eyes sat above high boned cheeks, almost hidden, and they gleamed like obsidian in death.

NaNoWriMo: Day Twelve

This post was meant for yesterday, but seeing as a ten hour work day took priority, I got essentially no writing done. Here's to playing catch-up! Hope all of your projects are still chugging along. We'll be breaching week the start of week three very soon.

Here is your excerpt. It's safe to say that I've really been waiting to write this scene. Enjoy and continued writing success through November.

Peace and Writing Love,

JWP

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The Shattered Darkness
Chapter 6 excerpt