Paddy's Wanderings

The Journal ~ Misty Morning

a brief excerpt from the Journal of Krish...

The morning is cold and filled with mist. I had to warm my hands with the steaming cup of tea Sam handed to me before I could trim the quills and write in the journal. We had walked for a awhile, then laid down to rest before the sunrise, but neither of us did more then doze in a dream state. Sam would not speak of her dreams of late, I knew they were troublesome to her.

My old friend has returned. I once again had the dream, searching through the trees in the Grove as a child, looking and not finding something just out of reach. It is a dream filled with panic and uncertainity and to this day, I still don't know what I am looking for. The danger is not from behind, but from ahead, always has been.

I am tired, and this pace is not something we can continue. It has been twenty summers since we first left the Grove, off to war and adventure. We were young and foolish. Now I am feeling the winters and some days, even more foolish. My legs ache, but the best thing for that is to walk. So we'll walk, the urgency is there.

Just another cup of tea, a stretch of the legs and the clearing of my thoughts and I will be ready. I think I may have to wait on the thoughts for awhile. Hopefully once the mist clears, the sun will peak out and the warmth will travel deep into my bones. We need to find our smile again, even in the depths of grief, we must never forget to smile. I remember that old saying, but it has grown hard to do.

Maybe I will ask Sam to race.

The Journal ~ At Sunset

excerpt from The Journal of Krish..

We stopped as the last rays of the setting sun filtered through the trees. I have a few moments of daylight to open my thoughts and add to my journal.

It has been some time since we traveled as hard as we did today. Exhaustion and grief is outweighing the sense of urgency and we need to sit under the trees and rest. Sam started a small fire and is brewing tea, softly humming to herself. I know that tune, a sad song of lost warriors in battle from our younger days. It seems fitting to the mood of the day as I stretch out by this log to work out the tired of my legs.

Too much time on the boat, too much time riding horses, the past few years has made me soft. I almost wish I had kept the horses and not traded them for building materials for the boat, but it was a good trade. Too bad we have to go across land to home, the boat would have been easier. Our journeys across the big lake these past couple of years have been a pleasure.

I must be tired to be losing my focus. The trip to Wenona is long overdue and now with the death of my friend, it should be all I am thinking about right now. It is not though. The path Sam and I have followed since we left Wenona has been peaceful. Too many years of war and too much pain when we came home to the valley, left us searching for that peace.

It will be good to see our friends again, good to honor Carnac. But there is something just outside of my vision that troubles my thoughts, something is there. There is a darkness, a mist that has me feeling at a lost, and I know it troubles Sam as well. The death of Carnac, that alone is hard for me to write and to feel, but this has made it grow.

It is time to go, Sam is tidying up our camp. My tea has grown cold but it still restores some of my energy. My thoughts and my feelings are confused. Walking under the trees and the light of the harvest moon always clears my mind. I need that now more then ever. So we'll walk toward home.

The Journal Part II

an excerpt from the Journal of Krish

The sun is at noon and we needed to eat and to rest for a few moments. As much as we felt the urgency of the day, we had no choice. We were exhausted and needed a few moments before continuing. My thoughts are confused, the words, coming slowly.

The sickness of last evening has faded into an ache in my heart. I felt the death of Carnac very deeply, probably more so then most. I have no doubt all our friends are feeling the lost of Carnac today. Sam was still silently weeping, even as she sat on a log, chewing a piece of the dried stag we had packed before setting out for home last night.

Walking under the stars with a full moon is enjoyable and we have done that often over the years. But last night, with each step, the pain settled into out hearts. We stopped and rested for awhile before the dawn. Then, like every morning since we had joined the elders in the Grove, we sang to the sunrise. My vision was clouded by the gathering darkness, a mist of confusion settled into my thoughts.

If we could continue this pace, we could be to the river by the bay within four days, maybe less. We had traveled far already, much quicker then I had anticipated. The day was turning very warm, the breeze from the south a steady flow of the last rays of summer. Yesterday, I could have skipped down across the valley. Today, the weight of life and death has slowed my pace.

Sam stood ready. It is time to put away quill and ink. Time to fold up my thoughts. I am not sure I want to go home, even after being away this time for almost four years, I still am not ready for that again. The sense of urgency Sam and I felt would gather all of us again at Wenona. I was not even sure if I was ready for that.

I was sure of one thing. We had to go home, to honor Carnac's life, by honoring his death.

The Journal of Krish ~AtFoD Part 1

below is part of the Journal of Krish, from AtFoD...

Since I took the stag, the past few days have been long, filled with drying the meat, curing the hide, and shaping horn. Tasks that Sam and I are familiar with and enjoy doing in the silence of the lake shore. Now we wait for the final curing and today I am of mind to push the boat into the lake, catch a breeze and enjoy our little inlet. The mornings are getting cooler and the sun is approaching the change. Soon, we will be into harvest time and the breeze will become uncertain, wind and tide becoming harder to ride.

~

A cold wind snaked through rope and sail, chilling me within moments of stepping into the boat. I braved a few, short passes close to shore before gliding back to the driftwood log. My fingers were brittle from the wet cold and I hurried to the fire where Sam sat, quietly working the deer hide. She looked up and nodded toward the steaming stone cup, sitting on the edge of the low fire. I warmed my hands and breathed deeply of the herbal tea, feeling refreshed in a moment. Today was not what I had expected, a storm was edging into my vision, but I ignored it.

~

Having been companions for so long, on such a journey we have traveled, we said few words. But I knew the question she was asking and I did not have an answer. I was unsure where we would go for the winter. We were a few days from Wenona Grove and we had talked about spending time with the Elders, walk under the oaks as the leaves changed color. Sam too, had been feeling the change, even Star was less playful then normal. Tomorrow, we would sing the change of the sun. Maybe then we would feel better and make a decision.

~

What a beautiful sunrise as Sam and I sang, arms reaching to the sky, the coming of the sun. The clear sky filled me with joy for a brief time this morning. The storm seemed ever closer as noon passed toward evening. Sam was worried and so was I. Even her cat Star was pacing around our small camp. A decision has to be made, but I think it will be made for us, and soon. Sam is now preparing dinner and I think it is a good time to play some light music. I know its coming, I just can not see what it is, but I feel the darkness coming.

Novel Tone News Sept 2010

Welcome to the blasted project...

A few things burning in the back ground, leading to the push toward November. I have been keeping a journal for one of the characters and plan on using parts of that in the story. I do this to flesh out a bunch of ideas that need to go into the narrative but I have yet to figure out how to do this. So, I have this ongoing thing that so far, works pretty well in the writing of the ideas into coherent form. I think..

Either way, it is a good exercise and for me, a good way to tackle some of the problems that I have created. As I make the story more complex, take the characters deeper, I find that all those ideas, all those snippets of thought and conversations, are gelling into ideas and, for lack of a better word, stuff that can be imported into the whole story.

This is important to me. I need the depth of the story to fill, to add more meaning and resonance to the themes that are scratched upon in the plot. Makes sense to me. I take a setting that is not all that unfamiliar, with people who act in a similar fashion to most people, and tell a story. Depth matters.

I spent this morning working the process, getting prepared to make a run for it. Who knows if this makes sense or is the correct way to write a novel. It works for me. Maybe over thinking it a bit. But, this is the first shot, it has to hit the target. I will worry about the second and what not if I get to that bridge. Until then, it is time to go for it. Anything less is not within the pale.

The Delivery ~AtFoD

a brief excerpt form After the Fall of Darkness..

               

                Turning, she was startled by Carnac rushing toward the open door, hands dripping dishwater across her floor, his eyes darting from her to the ground and out down the lane. He dried his slender hands on the front of his tunic and squinted at her smile. 'Was that Riggs? Did he bring me another parcel?'

            'Yes to both questions my dear,' she laughed, 'what is the rush? It is probably just another book or something to clutter your study.'

            'Huh? Oh yeah probably. But this might be what I have been trying to find,' he said and massaged his left arm and shoulder, his slender frame twitching in obvious pain.

            'Is your arm bothering you again? You know you should see a healer.'

            'It is nothing, I am fine,' he said blinking his tearing eyes as he reached for the parcel.

            'Well if it continues, you will go,' said Liassa, frowning as she watched him try to catch his breath.

            'Okay, if it continues I will,' he said, 'I won't be long I just want to see what is inside.'

            'You always say that. As long as you keep it downstairs and it doesn't smell up the house like the last time, it is fine by me.'

            'Of course my dear,' Carnac said kissing her on the cheek.

            'I will be downstairs for awhile,' he called over his shoulder as he hefted the parcel and walked toward the stairs, his left leg hitching with each step.

            'I'll make sure to call you for dinner, but tonight you spend with me and not in the basement again,' she called after him as he went downstairs and closed the door.

            Carnac shut the door to his study and touched a sigil on the door frame, sealing the room from unwanted visitors. His private study in the basement of their house was his own personal sanctuary and the object of his ongoing quest for knowledge.

            On each wall hung several maps, some no more than tattered sheets of parchment, in many different languages and artistic representation. In two of the corners stood elaborate candle holders towering over a jumble of books, boxes and assorted items of various uses and origins that only Carnac himself could name or use for any useful purpose. He had been collecting knowledge since the traveling days of his youth. Each dusty pile of books and scrolls along with various weapons and tools was at some time important to his personal quest.

            Near the center of the accumulated maze of his possessions, there stood a table that had one leg propped up with a thin book. Threading his way through the maze, he placed the parcel on the table, and unlike most everything in his study, the table was clean and held only a cylinder filled with quills and an ink pot. On the bookshelf between the wall and his desk was arranged a series of books, each labeled in his neat script, sorted by a date next to the title Personal Journal.

            Sitting down in his chair, he placed the parcel in the center of the table, and rubbed his left arm again while catching his breath.  With a small knife he used to trim the quills, he carefully slit the side of the parcel open, revealing, as he expected, a rather large book. It was covered in hardened leather and bound with iron with the symbol of The Chosen, engraved in the cover. He shook the remaining bag upside down, but there was nothing else in the parcel.

A Long Days End ~ AtFoD

a brief excerpt from After the Fall of Darkness

Krish walked into the hall, sat down on a bench in the corner, and closed his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled and stained from the long hours spent with the healers. Carnac walked over and put a mug of ale in front of Krish and sat down, waiting. Krish opened an eye, looked at Carnac and sighed. He took a long pull from the mug and wiped his mustaches on a tattered sleeve.

‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘where is everyone else?’

‘Brandor and Martek are doing guard duty, Storm and Logar are out back in the privy, too much ale you know,’ said Carnac.

Krish finished his ale and laid his head back. Carnac walked over to the barrel and filled the mug again and sat back down. Logar and Storm walked in and filled their mugs and sat down next to Carnac.

‘How is Raif?’ asked Logar.

‘She’ll live, a few more scars,’ Krish said, ‘but she’ll live.’

‘Thank you for what you did,’ said Logar.

‘I just helped, it is Sam who is doing all the work,’ Krish said, ‘but for her, many more would have died today.’

Logar nodded and stared over his mug at a smiling Storm. Finishing the mug, Logar stood and walked out the door. Storm chuckled, drank off his mug and followed, winking at Carnac and Krish.

‘Vaughn still with the prisoners?’ asked Krish.

‘Where else would he be, he is angry enough for ten men,’ said Carnac.

‘Cain and Caldor are still missing, they were not part of the wounded,’ said Krish, ‘Where is Calorn?’

‘He is sulking in the stable, something about his lost of honor,’ said Carnac.

Krish looked hard at Carnac, who just shrugged and stood up, stretching. Krish stood and walked out the door. Calorn could be touchy about his honor to the point of being belligerent, and that was the last thing they needed right now after the disaster of the past few days of battle. Krish felt tired as he walked toward the stable, this day was never going to end.

The stable was the best building in the camp and yet it was so worn down it was a wonder any horse would enter. But there was plenty of fodder and they built the camp over a well full of good, clean water. A couple of horses were drinking from the trough and Riggs was brushing down a horse at the entrance as Carnac and Krish walked up.

‘Calorn, are you in there?’ asked Krish. It was always a good rule to announce your present to warriors of any clan, especially someone with wounded pride, like Calorn..

‘Come on out and have a drink with us,’ yelled Carnac. Krish turned and looked at Carnac. There was no answer.

‘Calorn are you in there?’ asked Krish, walking through the doorway.

‘Aye, I am here, what do you want Krish?’ said Calorn from the shadows.

‘The day has been long, we are all tired and need a break,’ said Krish, 'come on over to the hall and have a mug of ale.’

‘I don’t want any ale or company today,’ said Calorn.

Krish looked over at Carnac and shrugged. Carnac was edgy, pacing back and forth in the doorway. Calorn looked up from where he was cleaning his boots and glared at Carnac. There was something here and Krish couldn’t figure it out.

Sam in the Tower ~ AtFoD

After the Fall of Darkness ~ a brief excerpt...

Sam walked up the stairs to the top of the tower to think and to grieve. The long journey, the sickness and worry, were exhausting and that descended onto her shoulders when she saw Carnac sitting in his study. The tears flowed as she sat down on the window ledge and looked out. So many deaths, so much restless wandering, searching. Just when Carnac had seemed to find peace in the new world, he passed. She let the pain and the sadness flow, trying to remember the happier times, to honor her fallen friend.

When Carnac and Larissa had married and decided to move into a big house, Sam was not so sure. Growing up the Clan way left her suspicious and unsure of villages and big houses. She loved the Groves and the simple gatherings of the people she grew up with and she had treasured that life. That life had seemed to pass as folks were leaving the Groves and moving into villages, barely acknowledging their ancestors or the trees. In spite of that, the house suited Carnac’s new life.

With that in mind, Sam had taught Larissa as much of the healing arts as she could in the brief time they were together. Larissa had been raised in the village and knew little of the ways of the Grove, learning just a few things from her grandmother, a child herself of the Grove, but she was willing to learn. With the help of the other Chosen, they had planted tress and growing vines, placing the house in the midst of a garden. All of which Larissa had learned to love and tend, for the three years since the wedding.

Carnac though, had more easily accepted the new world and the changes they had found when they had returned from the war. He was forever studying everything and the moon and stars were a favorite past time. Many nights, Carnac and Krish would gaze to the heavens, talking long into the night as they sat in the top of the tower that Logar, Storm and Raif had built for Carnac. Sometimes, when he was feeling more like his old self, Vaughn would join them and they laughed and talked like the old friends they had become.

But like all good things, the restlessness took hold of each of them, and slowly, within a few months, they had all left to find their own path. Krish and Sam, bonded many years ago in the Grove, were the last to leave, but they too felt the pull of the wanderer. It now seemed to her, that like all things in life, the circle was closing again, and the sadness enveloped her like the light from the full moon.

She closed her eyes and cradled Star in her lap. Tonight, she would spend the vigil with Carnac’s stars and keep the nightmares at bay with the memories of the good times. Tonight, the past and the future would dance a duet in the sky and she smiled. The long night, exploring the memory of the trees and the great expanse of the stars, settled her thoughts and eased her grief. Sunrise would arrive shortly and together they would sing to the new sun. She rose from the ledge, stretched and walked downstairs. A feeling, just out of reach, stirred her memories and clouded her thoughts as she walked out the back door to join her friends.

The Last Ride

a brief excerpt of more raw material from near the beginning..

    Autumn was approaching, the morning air before the dawn felt cooler to Krish. The past two days, the darkness seemed to be closer then ever, it was a race to the light of day. He checked his horse again and looked around at his friends as they prepared for the journey north. Sam and Larissa stood by the wagon carrying the body of Carnac, Sam's horse tied to the back. Vaughn
and Logar stood holding the reins to their horses, while Storm paced through the group, impatient to get started. Krish was going to hold to ceremony and ritual and waited.

    As the sun crested the treeline to the east, casting long rays of light through the trees, Krish began to sing the dawn of the morning. He looked over at Sam, who had joined him, arms upraised in greeting. Everyone else stood, eyes skyward and waited for the beginning of the day. Finishing, Krish nodded to Sam and looked with sadness at his friends. The death of Carnac was hard enough to bare, but with the traces of the funeral pyre still smoldering in the remains of the Grove, Riggs murder weighed like a mountain upon their shoulders.

    I think they all knew now that the end was just the beginning, that in reality, the past was still chasing them into the new world. It was a thought that had crossed Krish's mind since the death of Carnac, and now it swelled to an overwhelming sense of dread. He had a cause for what he had been feeling for the past week. The betrayal was still there, an unhealed wound that began to bleed again. It was not something they had ever forgotten so much as they had hoped it had ended many years ago. The death of Riggs left no doubt in anyone's mind, that Caldor was still alive, and still bearing the betrayal after all the years that had passed.

    This what the right decision. Krish knew that from his readings of Carnac's Journal and in his own heart. They had to take Carnac to the Isle, to honor him and put him to rest. Maybe, thought Krish, the peace they all had searched for they would find at the monolith on the isle of the lake. They could make sure that Carnac would find that final release that so many had been denied for so long. It was shame they could not have done the same for Riggs, but Krish knew they had done the right and honorable thing. Krish knew he would lay down his life to prevent the desecration of Carnac's body, and if that was what it took to release them all from the binding of the betrayal by Caldor, then so be it.

    A fierce pride ran deep through the remaining Chosen and Krish would use that to finish what they had started so long ago. He sighed, feeling old and tired and washed out like the autumn sky. Time to put the ghosts of the past and the present to rest. Time for one final ride of his friends, one final chance to live and die like the people they had become. One last chance to make everything right and to greet the new world with open arms, and to pass into the mists.

'Time to go my friends,' said Krish mounting his horse.

'One last ride of the Chosen,' said Storm with a bitter smile.

'Time enough to bury our ghosts, our friends,' mumbled Vaughn.

Sam looked sharply over at Vaughn, flicked the reins of the horses and the wagon edged away from the stables, headed west.

Drawing Down the Blackness

Here is another raw excerpt from the 'thing which we shall not name'. This is near the beginning and it is the readers first glimpse at the bad guy. I need to work on his introduction a bit more, and of course, much more is revealed deeper into the story, but it is a bit of a teaser..

     Caldor had lost the trail again, too much time had passed and the residue of their passing had diminished to nothing. Once again he sighed, frustrated beyond words. He had no idea how they could move so quickly and leave such little trace and it was annoying him. Caldor tethered his horse to the tree he was standing under and walked out to the water’s edge.

      He felt he was very close this time and he did not know how long he would be able to continue before the sickness struck him down again. He had lost so much time over the years to the madness, sometimes finding himself many weeks of travel from where he fell ill. This time, he had been able to follow Krish and Sam for over four months and he wasn’t about to lose them again.

      He bent and picked up a stone and shot it across the surface of the water, it skipped once then plunged under a ripple of gray water. He had not felt this good in a very long time and wanted to see Krish and Sam, to talk to them. Of the remaining Chosen, he felt they were the easiest to approach. Maybe not, but it would be killing two birds with one stone either way.

      It had been a long time since he had seen any of them and their presence was fading. His hatred had even diminished a fraction, enough that for the first time in many years, the illness was just a dull ache in the back of his head, the voices, only muted whispers in half forgotten dreams. It was almost bearable. He could talk to Krish first. Maybe they had forgotten him,
unlikely he knew, but maybe they had forgiven just a little.

      He was feeling good if he even thought that way. Today was a good day, a nice sunset and a soft breeze through the trees. Maybe he could find a village, spend a couple days and feel more like his old self. Maybe the urges were gone or maybe it was just the equinox smoothing away all the old fears and voices.

      He pitched another stone into the lake. Grabbing the reins of his horse, he mounted and steered to the north and east. Maybe it was time to go home, maybe the wandering all these past years had been just as much a problem as the blackouts. He should just go back, he thought. Carnac was living there if he remembered correctly, the thought just a brush across
his memory.

      He would go see Carnac and go back home, his mind was made up. If the sickness would just stop for a while he would be fine. Driving the thought from his mind, he rode into the forest. Feeling better than he had in many years, he smiled.

      Evening was drawing down the blackness and Caldor stopped. He tethered his horse next to a clump of tall grass and started a fire with the sun just dipping into the horizon. A fire was necessary to keep the darkness from clouding his dreams. He gathered plenty of firewood and settled down to eat the last of his dried meat.

     Tossing another branch into the fire he felt a small stabbing pain in his temple. He quickly grabbed his flask and took a drink of the elixir the healer gave him, hoping that it was only a small headache. The liquid burned down his throat and fired his stomach, spreading the heat throughout his body. Breathing in ragged gasps, he fell onto his side.

      The pain, like molten fire, spread from temple to temple, blinding him as he screamed. The intense fire swept him into the darkness, the sickness making him retch into the dirt as he kicked out. Trying to catch his breath, the pain spiked again as he sat up, knocking him flat again on his back

      With a last glimpse at the sliver of sun over the tree tops, he buried his head in his hands. Weeping with pain and fear of the darkness he slipped down into the depths of his soul and screamed. Carnac had passed, of that he was sure with his last rational thought, then he let go, too tired to fight and the darkness overwhelmed him.

      Rising, Caldor drew his knife and pointed toward the east and north. Carnac died at home, the others would be fighting their own demons, but they would go to him. He smiled, his eyes like cold silver as he fed the fire and stroked the knife across his thigh. Time was the enemy he thought as he stabbed the knife into the ground. He looked over at his horse and smiled,
time enough to eat before he left.

      The pain seared through his veins as the blood flowed across his hands. A good fire and a full belly was just what he needed and he carved and ate greedily, fueling the inner darkness. Laughing again, he threw the flask in the fire and watched it burn. He looked around the campsite, nothing he needed there, he had his knife and a sword. Laughing softly to himself as he waved a hand at the darkness, he ran toward home.