Shorewalker
Well-Known Member
Long time, so speak, people. Missed this place but...real life and all that.
I've been off most things for around eight months but have finally got back in the saddle as far as the writing is concerned. The break has made me feel...a little weird...as to my output. I feel like I'm getting into the zone again but not sure whether I'm kidding myself. This extract of 1,056 words is deep into book four of my epic fantasy series so there won't be much in the way of plot explanation/character descriptions. All comments will be gratefully received and thanks in advance.
Ana Pal Mer was the largest port on the northern coast of Allulor and possibly the most cosmopolitan of all the great Allulorian cities. Sprawling across two huge, deep-water bays, it was a seething pot of caravan guides and merchants, longshoremen and sailors, council officials and innkeeps, musicians, whores, dancers and tribal royalty. Along its wharfs were moored galleons and clippers, caravels and cogs, frigates and barques, the flags and sails that flapped limply in the sluggish breeze draping the docks with a kaleidoscope of colour. Bordering the harbour road and all through the city’s thoroughfares were dozens of markets, scores of bazaars and hundreds of smoke shops. It was said that the uproar that filled Ana Pal Mer’s sweltering streets could be heard ten leagues distant, a legend that its denizens appeared to take great pride from.
To Reikou M’tal, it all looked dirty and weary, a cesspit of venality and greed that reeked to the heavens of sweat, spices, human waste and camel dung.
To Kercha Habo, it appeared as a wonderland, a place of new and magical sights and sounds that both frightened and delighted in equal measure.
“Good day, Reikou M’tal. Can we go and see the puppets again?”
Appearing as though from nowhere at Reikou’s side, Kercha tugged at the sleeve of his linen shirt and raised wide, pleading eyes. She had somehow found him in the throngs that pushed and shoved through the tight street lined with stalls and tiny shop fronts. Reikou took her shoulder and guided her past the donkey that was having no truck with its driver’s instructions and looked about to start kicking. He gently led her into the slim mouth of an alleyway, rainbow-striped birds singing away from the cages that were hung along its length.
“The puppets?” He smiled tightly as he peered through the sea of head scarfs, turbans and colourful headdresses for sight of Kanal of Yos and Fahad Ellawaya. Between the tightness of the press and the steamers of smoke from the cooking braziers and tabac shops, he could see neither. Once again, it appeared that Kercha had given her escort the slip.
“It’s the same show every afternoon,” he said absently. Kercha insisted on being his tiny shadow, but this day, he had wanted her to remain in the company of her guardians. It seemed that his hopes had been dashed and so he shielded her as they pushed back into the crush. “You must have seen it so many times that you could put the show on yourself.”
In her white shift – which she always managed to get grubby before noon arrived on any given day – Kercha was looking here and there, everything an intriguing novelty. She stopped before a canvas-shrouded stall selling nuts and fruit and began sifting through the wares with a critical eye.
“The end is different every time, though,” she said. “One day it’s the monkey who finds the crown, another it’s the lion or even the snake.”
Her brows came down. “Sometimes, nobody finds it but I’m not sure what the lesson is in that?” She brightened as she chose a pair of soft purple fruit and held out a small hand to Reikou. Her smile was wide and innocent. “Please?”
The turbaned stallholder waved at Reikou, his face splitting into an ingratiating smile that revealed two missing front teeth. “If you buy five, sir, I’ll give you a good deal.”
“Up until a moment ago, I had no intention of buying any. Why would I suddenly require five?”
The smile widened further. “Because it will keep your daughter happy.”
Reikou was about to set the trader straight but bit back on the comment. Kercha was not his daughter but she was an orphan, left in the care of an elderly aunt. She had certainly attached herself to him as though he were close family and for his part, he had taken to the girl as she had to him. She was smart and witty and there was a streak of stubborn running through her as thick as a ship’s beam.
She’s also possibly the most powerful mage I’ve ever encountered.
He slipped a couple of bits from the pouch at his waist and handed them to Kercha. “Take the five but make them last. If you eat them all at once, you’ll be regretting it.”
The young girl’s expression suggested he was teaching his grandmother how to knit a shawl. He held back from reminding her that she had done precisely what he was warning against on the way north from Kallisandra.
And hadn’t that been an enjoyable couple of days?
As Kercha began haggling with the stallholder – she was clearly not willing to give up her two bits without a fight – Reikou felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked into the sweat-sheened face of Kanal of Yos, the grizzled veteran blowing hard and appearing as though he might keel over at any moment.
“She’s…damned…fast,” Kanal said, leaning his weight on Reikou. “And tricky. Very, very…tricky.”
Kanal put his hands on his knees and bent his head. “Get a younger man for childminding,” he mumbled. “I resign.”
“Where are we going, then?” asked Kercha brightly, juice from the fruit running down her chin.
Reikou attempted to plaster a stern look on his face. “We aren’t supposed to be going anywhere. I was heading to see Captain N’goti. I need to check whether we’re ready to set sail with the morning tide.”
Kercha’s smile faded as she drew her lips into a straight line. “We better had be. We’ve got demons to kill.”
Reikou felt a ball of guilt form in his gut. The words were so incongruous, given their source. A slight girl, Kercha was eleven years old and more innocent than her scruffy peers who ran yelling through the streets of Ana Pal Mer.
And yet she had already met the demons and killed many of their number.
No, not killed. She annihilated them. Unfortunately, our need is so dire that we need her to annihilate many more.
“If I let you come with me, do you promise to behave with decorum?”
Kercha’s expression was blank. “I don’t really know what that means,” she grinned, “but I promise anyway.”
I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.
I've been off most things for around eight months but have finally got back in the saddle as far as the writing is concerned. The break has made me feel...a little weird...as to my output. I feel like I'm getting into the zone again but not sure whether I'm kidding myself. This extract of 1,056 words is deep into book four of my epic fantasy series so there won't be much in the way of plot explanation/character descriptions. All comments will be gratefully received and thanks in advance.
Ana Pal Mer was the largest port on the northern coast of Allulor and possibly the most cosmopolitan of all the great Allulorian cities. Sprawling across two huge, deep-water bays, it was a seething pot of caravan guides and merchants, longshoremen and sailors, council officials and innkeeps, musicians, whores, dancers and tribal royalty. Along its wharfs were moored galleons and clippers, caravels and cogs, frigates and barques, the flags and sails that flapped limply in the sluggish breeze draping the docks with a kaleidoscope of colour. Bordering the harbour road and all through the city’s thoroughfares were dozens of markets, scores of bazaars and hundreds of smoke shops. It was said that the uproar that filled Ana Pal Mer’s sweltering streets could be heard ten leagues distant, a legend that its denizens appeared to take great pride from.
To Reikou M’tal, it all looked dirty and weary, a cesspit of venality and greed that reeked to the heavens of sweat, spices, human waste and camel dung.
To Kercha Habo, it appeared as a wonderland, a place of new and magical sights and sounds that both frightened and delighted in equal measure.
“Good day, Reikou M’tal. Can we go and see the puppets again?”
Appearing as though from nowhere at Reikou’s side, Kercha tugged at the sleeve of his linen shirt and raised wide, pleading eyes. She had somehow found him in the throngs that pushed and shoved through the tight street lined with stalls and tiny shop fronts. Reikou took her shoulder and guided her past the donkey that was having no truck with its driver’s instructions and looked about to start kicking. He gently led her into the slim mouth of an alleyway, rainbow-striped birds singing away from the cages that were hung along its length.
“The puppets?” He smiled tightly as he peered through the sea of head scarfs, turbans and colourful headdresses for sight of Kanal of Yos and Fahad Ellawaya. Between the tightness of the press and the steamers of smoke from the cooking braziers and tabac shops, he could see neither. Once again, it appeared that Kercha had given her escort the slip.
“It’s the same show every afternoon,” he said absently. Kercha insisted on being his tiny shadow, but this day, he had wanted her to remain in the company of her guardians. It seemed that his hopes had been dashed and so he shielded her as they pushed back into the crush. “You must have seen it so many times that you could put the show on yourself.”
In her white shift – which she always managed to get grubby before noon arrived on any given day – Kercha was looking here and there, everything an intriguing novelty. She stopped before a canvas-shrouded stall selling nuts and fruit and began sifting through the wares with a critical eye.
“The end is different every time, though,” she said. “One day it’s the monkey who finds the crown, another it’s the lion or even the snake.”
Her brows came down. “Sometimes, nobody finds it but I’m not sure what the lesson is in that?” She brightened as she chose a pair of soft purple fruit and held out a small hand to Reikou. Her smile was wide and innocent. “Please?”
The turbaned stallholder waved at Reikou, his face splitting into an ingratiating smile that revealed two missing front teeth. “If you buy five, sir, I’ll give you a good deal.”
“Up until a moment ago, I had no intention of buying any. Why would I suddenly require five?”
The smile widened further. “Because it will keep your daughter happy.”
Reikou was about to set the trader straight but bit back on the comment. Kercha was not his daughter but she was an orphan, left in the care of an elderly aunt. She had certainly attached herself to him as though he were close family and for his part, he had taken to the girl as she had to him. She was smart and witty and there was a streak of stubborn running through her as thick as a ship’s beam.
She’s also possibly the most powerful mage I’ve ever encountered.
He slipped a couple of bits from the pouch at his waist and handed them to Kercha. “Take the five but make them last. If you eat them all at once, you’ll be regretting it.”
The young girl’s expression suggested he was teaching his grandmother how to knit a shawl. He held back from reminding her that she had done precisely what he was warning against on the way north from Kallisandra.
And hadn’t that been an enjoyable couple of days?
As Kercha began haggling with the stallholder – she was clearly not willing to give up her two bits without a fight – Reikou felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked into the sweat-sheened face of Kanal of Yos, the grizzled veteran blowing hard and appearing as though he might keel over at any moment.
“She’s…damned…fast,” Kanal said, leaning his weight on Reikou. “And tricky. Very, very…tricky.”
Kanal put his hands on his knees and bent his head. “Get a younger man for childminding,” he mumbled. “I resign.”
“Where are we going, then?” asked Kercha brightly, juice from the fruit running down her chin.
Reikou attempted to plaster a stern look on his face. “We aren’t supposed to be going anywhere. I was heading to see Captain N’goti. I need to check whether we’re ready to set sail with the morning tide.”
Kercha’s smile faded as she drew her lips into a straight line. “We better had be. We’ve got demons to kill.”
Reikou felt a ball of guilt form in his gut. The words were so incongruous, given their source. A slight girl, Kercha was eleven years old and more innocent than her scruffy peers who ran yelling through the streets of Ana Pal Mer.
And yet she had already met the demons and killed many of their number.
No, not killed. She annihilated them. Unfortunately, our need is so dire that we need her to annihilate many more.
“If I let you come with me, do you promise to behave with decorum?”
Kercha’s expression was blank. “I don’t really know what that means,” she grinned, “but I promise anyway.”
I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.
