Of Patchwork Warriors Part 5

One thing about Fantasy Novels, you have to have the Nasty- here he is

CHAPTER TWELVE

Merthyl was naturally pleased with the smell of cooked meat. Let the boors fill their dungeons with the stench of burning, where was the amusement in such bludgeoning haste? And more importantly, these days, what sort of gain did you get from a sudden ragged scream and a lot of blubbering. No far better to build up the horror and agony, slowly, while explaining to the subject the full weight of the circumstance; the intention, the reasoning and of course the indulgent pleasure of seeing them realise they had been betrayed.

This had not been the first time he had employed the angelic featured golden haired child whose slightly open mouth and wide pale blue eyes gave an impression of wondrous innocence. She was particularly expert at producing large tears and heart-felt sobbing pleas for mercy; these being meat and drink to the delights to those of his circle whose bent was towards the kidnapping and ruination of children.

And they fell for the little monster every time.

Merthyl’s patches of territories could be located across the central belt of the Oakhostian, and in one upon a summer’s day out in the woods hunting for maid to abduct he had come across this child cheerfully nailing a living rabbit to a tree. She had told him with a sunny disposition she enjoyed the noises dying animals made. After a rather macabre conversation with the child Merthyl had asked her if she would like to earn some money, producing a long needle from under her sleeve and threatening him she said she would not do things grown-up girls did. Merthyl was quite charmed and explained she would only be bait for men who deserved nasty deaths. She had giggled, only disappointed he would not let her join in, as yet.

Naturally many of his collection of followers were wary of an invitation to spend time with him alone, but with such a tempting offer how could some depraved men resist, and they were the material he needed. Slavering and laughing over the child they were easy targets for a narcotic laced dagger. He supposed he could have found a simpler way to abduct such material, but, again where was the fun in that?

And of late he had realised there would have to be enterprise mixed in with his entertainment.

 

Initially he had found his way to the Obsidian Council through contact with Uraxch; there appeared to have been a loss of two others through carelessness with the Zerstorung and new outlooks were required. At first it was enough to just advise Belacheli on new ways to cause suffering to those the mage planned upon sacrificing, learn some tricks and with Uraxch’s aid find murky little secrets amongst some powerful families just in case his own family name was not sufficient to protect him. And for that year the whole business had been another means of easy adventuring. Then first the vulgar, thuggish Silc had arrived, bringing with him Grand Duke Karutorm, who was at least nobility. They had brought a dynamism and a direction which had excited Belacheli into more extravagant efforts. Merthyl had concluded he should be extending his knowledge, just in case opportunities or necessity required it. Whereas Belacheli fawned, worship, grovelled and so forth before the Zerstorung, Merthyl was intent upon meeting it and equal terms. He was no one’s servant. And he reasoned despite all their much-vaunted reputations had any of these apparent Lords of the Zerstorung ever pierced the walls between the realms? They needed someone with zest and imagination to aid their endeavours, someone who would allow them certain degree of access and opportunity which he could exploit to his own. He had learnt through his own trial and error that basically as he understood things, the creatures of The Zerstorung responded to those who could enact terror, pain and anguish with a purpose. In order to communicate he had managed to obtain some credible works; for Belacheli would never let anyone see his own collection; Merthyl suspecting they were replete with a great deal of bowing and scraping anyway.

He trusted, this time, his efforts would have granted him some attention from these Zerstorung beings. He had applied a mix of comic comments, and mockery of the dying man who had one trusted him as much as anyone did of Merthyl. The fellow had been secured to the well-designed turning spit by silver chains and above the best of roasting trays to catch the juices and delay the whole process. Then the correct use of incantations at regular intervals. The whole taking place before a squat ornately carved dark bronze effigy of traditional grinning demonic visage which as far as Merthyl knew was supposed to be a means of contact into the Zerstorung.

Now that all the screaming, pleading and cursing was over he treated himself to a long glass of vintage wine and prodded with corpse with a knife; as far as a meal the fellow was somewhat underdone, but the death had been exquisite.

Merthyl waited.

He did expect results rather than simple exultation this time.

And had to sit down to catch his breath, which he had preferred not to have the time to do, results should have been quicker.

He would, naturally, leave the remains cook a little longer.

Only to feel a twinge of concern that the faint wisps of smoke that suggested the body might be burning, which would not do, as he did intend to serve up choice cuts with a salad.

However he noted with a jab of excitement the wisps gathering together, twisting in agitation. They thickened into a line of dirt grey which in began to expand, until within its unsettled borders appeared another line, one of writhing viridian and yellow shot through with dark red. This began its own growth, until Merthyl was looking upon a landscape in torment, a plain from which by gouts of flames burst consuming or rending whatever had been above or above them. Things moved in the distance, some loomed close; there may have been purpose to their actions, until they were taken by the roaring incendiary or confronted by some other shuffling, striding or scuttling thing. All beneath a night sky that being devoid of stars was illuminated by flashes and explosions of light, the origins of which were obscure to Merthyl.

The vista was blocked by something.

Merthyl used to and often responsible for the devastation which could be wrought upon human features made out two eyes, although nowhere near aligned, and a maw which showed variations of the formation of teeth. Other than these focal points the sludge coloured face appeared to have suffered a melting reminiscent of wax. Groaning noises, approximating words emanated from the maw and the eyes fixed upon him an expression of horror, at each side of the face appeared stubbed projections which resembled paws, thick blunted nails scratching at the edges of the apertures onto the disordered land.

His experiences of the results of abuse upon the human form indicated to Merthyl that there was some sort of pleading taking place and a possible opportunity was presenting itself, just what sort he couldn’t say, but if nothing else there would be experience. After all his previous actions had rent apart this small portion of the barrier between the worlds, so one could only advance.

With a confidence forged from arrogance he stepped back and bade the creature to enter. He concluded he had been quite successful in his actions, obviously, all of his studying of Belacheli had been worthwhile and he evidently, he assured himself, had an instinctive grasp of these powers.

The form slithered, with much discomfort over the edge and fell with much gasping to the floor, no sooner had this taken place than another appeared, the face long to the point that Merthyl wondered if it was actually dripping away, the eyes almost at opposite sides of the head swivelled, apparently satisfied it was safe the creature made a similar unformed progress ending upon close to its comrade.

Merthyl ended up with four of the warped creatures floundering upon his floor seeming as helpless as caught fish. He was beginning to feel disappointed, when the first fixed one eye upon him.

“Ffoooood,” it groaned.

Another with a bulbous head burbled a noise to Merthyl which he guessed was an explanation of something.

“Mmmeee-th!” gasped the long faced one.

The last one, which was judging by the shortness of limbs was possibly devolving to a worm simply threshed.

Merthyl reasoned thus. Since they seemed eager to be here, had they originated from this world? For they were no threat so hardly constituted an invasion. Even if generally incoherent they were however able to make their pleas understandable. This was all new but, he told himself, he was certain he was master of the situation.

He strode over to the spit, donned gauntlets and with seeming ease born of one of those tricks he had learnt from Belacheli, pulled the partially cooked body off and threw it upon the floor to land amongst the quartet, who in turn crawled, writhed and rolled upon the feast.

Merthyl was quite pleased with the result, even as they fed their forms began to become solid, albeit not in quite the usual human form, snouts were forming, fingers were ending in definite claws and he believed nascent wings of a bat’s shape were developing upon their upper backs. One with a particularly canine face turned to him.

“Master,” it managed, blood and juices running over with cracked skin of its jaw.

Merthyl made a slight gesture of acceptance, it would be as well to seem aloof.

This would be a surprise to this night’s two guests.

He noticed there was little of the man left and the creatures although seeming to have a more structured shape still looked only half way to what they might be. They needed more food. But his few servants were valuable. His guests were, generally only useful in feeding his pride and ego.

Feeding? He laughed. He could certainly use his guests for that purpose!

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dekyria was beginning to feel there were more layers to this than the usual worries about The Zerstorung or simple criminality. He had reached this conclusion when he had found himself in all damn seriousness deciding there was no basis for considering activity by pixies or fairies.

If there was a measure of frivolity creeping in, who or what was responsible for that? There were the usual questions whether The Zerstorung was influencing or being influenced or even if a two-way flow was taking place. Answers could be found in looking for increase in tydes, fluctuations and so forth. But, this other possibility? Where would a feeling of frivolity seep in ? As yet Drygnest would not expect anything more than normal regular reports; at present this was a local matter, a skirmish; this was why Outposts were situated about the Oakhostian, first lines of defence. The evaluation all down to him; observation.

Bleymore was calmed thanks to Beritt; The Owls were excited, intense, more hounds now, straining at his leash. Dekyria had made it a practice to stroll around the outpost, chatting with other officers, exchanging grumbles with troopers looking out for any signs of Astatheia upon them. He would pass some time with Equesteria Lareh H’senez, in case her ‘darlings’ all forty horses were showing signs of distress or agitation. She had nothing unusual to say other than to suggest in her elder sister way that since she had troopers to assist her as part of their duties, shouldn’t The Medician have the same, because of late Beritt had been looking very intense, when she thought no one was looking at her. Dekyria took note of that as the two women naturally shared a room and probably a lot of chat and H’senez being a notoriously practical sort who some troopers reckoned would be inclined to put you out of your misery, if you broke a leg.

Back to Beritt, the small, deceptively pretty and almost innocent looking Medician. When it came down to it, she was getting caught up in this tyde.

Not forgetting of course Voices from the future.

 

Another dawn…

There was Bleymore awake, looking fresh and in low conversation with Hartey the nightwatch. As the youngest and most enthusiastic of the file Dekyria allowed the lad some leeway in his pursuit of Astatheia knowledge. The conversation was on the evasive subject of Numbers Where There Are None and as far as Dekyria could make out Bleymore was making the most logical statements on the subject, by reference to the active oculator.

And was a shame to interrupt, but there were other matters which needed completion. They had talked late on after that calming exit by Beritt. Dekyria thinking that Bleymore would keep on discoursing, brought the matter in an interlude by agreeing to see Bleymore’s points and feigning fatigue. He had needed to ponder on the implications.

Voices from the future, for one thing.

“Trooper Hartley, I’ll take over thank you. One last onerous task. Stir your comrades,”

“They might spare me the usual curses Captain. There’s a lot of interest after yesterday,” the lad smiled and nodded at Bleymore, took the hint and left quickly.

“If we accept at this stage Master Bleymore that these recent manifestations have proven to be as you say. Just what would you reckon to be the cause?”

This time Bleymore did not look fearful, simply distant and thoughtful, when he spoke the words came slowly, chosen with care.

“I am not altogether sure. One aspect I did notice was there seemed to be s slight increase in the brilliance of some of the white circles, but there was no discernible pattern. We would be wise to assume the event will be in close proximity. The distance I am not too sure. As these are physically small events the range cannot be too far,”

“Do you think we could place an approximate on them,”

“It may be so. Though I concur. It would be an approximate,”

Dekyria tried to avoid a sigh of relief. He had Bleymore effectively in his file and working on something with potential import. Apocalyptical incursions from the Zerstorung would have to wait. Good work Beritt. Very good work.

Bleymore shuffled a little and made much of looking at the oculator.

“Medician…Beritt?” the captain nodded at this tentative opener “She’s a remarkable healer isn’t she?”

“Bears repeating,” Dekyria managed a genial smile.

Fribbing dam’ remarkable. And maybe this something to do with the lighter aspect, though not one you could call frivolous.     

 

Normally The Helmsman did not bother much with the sky about the seas, but there was no avoiding the sudden small but very bright flare of white. So sharp. It even managed to reflect upon the sullen waters which appeared to lurch in agitation. That was new. He quietened his men. Bade them work on the delicate process of focusing. Everything had to be conducted quickly for the event was fading.

And was gone.

Of this he was sure though, there was not one source, but three revolving about each other in an agitated dance.

 

Karlyn was not having as much fun as she thought she ought to be allowed to have, considering she was now working for a custodian. For a start, he was insisting she read the Holy Books and ‘Tractz ‘; never mind whether they were riding, sitting eating and now even when she was up a tree and he kept asking  her school-master about them. As she saw things; The First Holy Book was exciting in parts about how the world was made and the evil things that tried to sneak it away getting a good thumping. The Second Holy book was a bit tweedly going on about how people came into the world and how love started, followed by being sensible, and clever, well she supposed love would have to come first. Then bits about how people learnt about The Lord God, which she thought were a bit obvious. The Third was more fun because that went into details what were the sins and told gory tales about what happened to sinful folk. She didn’t understand the Fourth it seemed to involve a lot of folk meeting and sitting down to discuss what was good or bad, and what happened if you did one for the other reason, or didn’t do anything for another reason. She thought the Fifth Book was a giggle. Meradat was hurrumffy saying it only served as to display the foolishness of obsession. It told you there should not be a privy within 852 paces of a temple. It explained what you should not eat before visiting a temple; how best to clean your nose and ears before going and other such fussy-stuffs. Karlyn promised herself the next time she saw a big fancy temple she was going to run in there and let fly one big blast. The Tractz or Tracts as Meradat called them were all about how deceitful the Stommigheid could be, and the sort of tricks in might play on you, to with time and things They did make sense but made the whole thing sound dull, like sitting down and counting your breaths or watching walls, though what the walls wuz supposed to do she was not sure.

 

Once they had crossed the border into the princedom of Decoryx things became interesting. After a day, on a late afternoon they reached a small town, and she’d told Meradat she could smell sharp clean oil but mixed with sweaty shirts. This, she reckoned meant someone here had been working frantic on something.

She had thought there would be so much fun when Meradat having reached the town square loudly pronounced his rank and reason for being there. Everyone ran about the place and the poor translator and someone who might be a mayor were dragged out for Meradat to be furious with.

She’d helped him root out some young limp-one of a lad who had made a feeble bit of stormhiggle stuff that was supposed to predict the weather. When this was uncovered as the source there was much mirth. Some local farmers were quite severe in saying it couldn’t predict rain in the middle of a downpour. So instead of burning him at the stake and terrorising half the town as suspects as Karlyn had hoped, Meradat had him simply stand on a wagon while the Custodian lectured everyone about the dangers of becoming woebegone through following such imprudent things, as these foolishnesses led unto the Hells. It was a chilly and windy day, Meradat didn’t notice of course, but everyone shivered or glared at the young twit.

Karlyn had to content herself with sitting on a wagon wheel and leering at various random folk.

When all was done and the guilty party was indentured to serve the widows, orphans and temple for six lunations, Meradat then subjected the translator to another lecture for failing in his duties.

So having nothing much else to do, Karlyn took charge of the offending device; a tubular metal thing not very secularly attached to a metal box ; the tube being topped by four metal arrows and something orange and bulbous, along its length in all sorts of irregular places were cheap gems. She shook it, the lad winced

“There is the daftest looking device I ever saw!” she chided “It’s so bad it’s an insult. You’d be laughed at in Jorddie circles you would!”

With that she nudged him into a nearby bit of scrub land.

“Show ya!” she cried

Then jumped up and down on it until it broke; the lad was made to watch, he blubbered and pleaded, what for she didn’t care, she wasn’t listening.

She was suddenly noticing something.

His little box of tricks was leaking a dark oily water that looked like it was rippling all by itself, some of it lurched at her leg; dancing back, she thrust one hand into a trouser pocket, pulled out a small oilskin bag, punched it with a fingernail and threw the dusty contents it upon the vile liquid. There followed a fizzing and an agitation; the liquid writhed, the flame rippled across the surface, growing from dull red into blinding bright orange. The lad, previously transfixed squeaked and fell backwards; Karlyn threw dried sticks upon the burning, which consumed them hungrily, all the while the liquid rose and fell seeming to wish to break free, while diminishing as the flames fed upon it, until there was nothing but a patch of sandy grit being picked up by the wind.

Karlyn was quick upon the lad, gripping two handfuls of his clothing

“You got even more explaining to do!” she hissed.

There was some more babbling in reply.

That annoyed her.

She lunged; he screamed; she yelled swear words and set her hands about his neck; even so he still managed to make a lot of credible noise.

It could have gone worse for the lad, but Meradat appeared, roaring to Karlyn that the fool could hardly explain anything while she had her hands about his throat. Karlyn was not in the mood for listening; only stopping when a larger hand fell upon her collar and pulled her off as if she was a particularly bad-tempered terrier.

Meradat letting go of Karlyn after a slight warning shake to her, fixed a baleful look upon the choking, coughing, wheezing, returned to babbling lad.

“He tried to trap me with walkin’ snatchin’ dirty oily water!!”

“It looked at me!!” the lad wailed “I saw one dread eye!”

“And I squished it and burnt it!!”

By now naturally a small crowd was arriving, no need of being summoned.

Karlyn watched Meradat do that draft making inhaling as he looked about at everyone with even greater displeasure; she guessed he’d judged them even ‘much more most’ responsible in some way. This was more like it. Maybe they’d get some decent burning done; ‘cause he was hauling the snivelling lad up; Karlyn looked about for convenient piles of wood; there was a dirty smell in the air, nothing like good old wood smoke to clean that; mind you cooked meat was a bit of a spoiler.

Meradat thundered forth, as if his previous sermon was just a polite afternoon chat.

“Oh this is far worse! And yet none of you noticed! You should always be on your guard! We shalt gather in your temple! We shalt hear the evidence of my assistant and,” Karlyn was pleased as he shook the lad “Oh miserable and foolish youth! There are always consequences to dabbling in the Stommigheid!” at this the lad nodded his head rapidly. “Assemble people and give thanks to The Lord God who protects you through various and strange agencies!” looking at Karlyn.

As he dragged the lad off, Meradat surprised Karlyn by actually whispering.

“Between you and I, you nearly brought the Zerstorung here! Restrain yourself!”

Days observation of his build and the way he moved, then the ease in which he hauled her off the lad Karlyn knew trying to swat Meradat or kick him in the old gazongas was going to end up with her on her arsepart. Instead she vented her crossness on the lad.

“Oi! Wobbles! What’s the name of the nearest portside town?”

“Prendaelyn,” as the lad was in high terror the answer came out as a lament “But it’s days away!”

Meradat stopped in his hauling of the lad bade him be still and everyone quiet, and then consulted a map of his own.

“Hmm. By The Lord God’s grace it would appear we are in a narrow part of the realm. I judge four days hard riding,”

Karlyn swept a hand at the gathered host, in the process maybe by accident on design scuffing the lad’s head.

“We could let this lot sort out their own perditions and wot-nots! We should be riding now!!”

“Your wish for urgency is appreciated Maid Nahtinee, but we must ensure these wayward and indolent folk are made fully aware of the need for vigilance,”

“Oooh, we are gonna burn him then? .It’s nearing dusk and we could do with some light,”

At that stage, the lad quite understandably fainted.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

Somewhere down the road in a sunny early morning which seemed helpless in its endeavours to lift the atmosphere.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have burnt him. It was all his fault!!”

Meradat muttered his personal prayer for patience and fortitude. This would be a long testing ride through Decoryx. It was obvious the closer the girl got to the true source of the disruption the more eager she became.

“You, Maid Nahtinee broke the device and thus caused the fel creature a point of access,”

“Hmmph. As I see it my actions exposed the fact there was something lurkin’ at a threshold, and if I hadn’t taken it on, then it would have slithered out later and wot good would that poor ol’weebly translator have been?”

Meradat’s full disapproval fell upon Karlyn and she had the odd feeling as if a very large and disagreeable hawk had settled with one leg upon each of her shoulders.

“Consider this Maid Nahtinee. Your initial violence to the young fool raised his fear even higher. Combined with your rage in close proximity to this device such a mix of turbulent emotions in all probability attracted the creature, then your impetuous attentions caused a fracture in the already fragile barrier. All such devices must be approached with a measure of caution and inspection before inflicting justifiable destruction upon them. Whereas you had stopped this intrusion was not something to make up for the fact you had started it. Burning a young fool achieves nothing. The full severity must only be brought down upon those who willingly transgress in blasphemies,”

Karlyn scowled. She wanted to argue but somehow couldn’t get the words out in a proper order. Meradat’s grumpiness was a bit of mountain face. He’d had to spend the rest of the night to take the lad, by then quite raving to the nearest meditovory. By The Lord God’s Purpose, the monks there were of The Order of Honoured Clerke Kanch and in devotion to their founder’s austere, stern and balanced purpose thus ideal to deal with folk suffering from excessive dabbling in Stommigheid.

And she’d had to snatch a doze in a scratchy old barn while Meradat had spent his time  in some stone room, and as far as she could make out taking part in a ‘Who Can Come Up With The Most Ominous Statement’ competition with the meditatives.

In the dawn, he had instructed Karlyn to study The Third Holy Book’s words of restraint. She had said she didn’t know it had any. He told her try, and thus learn

She just sulked under the guise of study;  feeling very hard done by

It was then she fell off of her horse.

 

Seeing no obvious reason for this Meradat did wonder whether this might one of her singularly deliberate acts, but finding her quite unconscious, and nearly chalk white of pallor was quick to lift her to the shade of a tree. There to pour water over her face and through her lips, while holding her into something of a sitting position.

Karlyn blinked, spluttered and then shuffled up coming to grips with her surroundings.

“Oooh that’s nice. Bringing me all the way back to this shady oak tree,”

“I am glad you can function physically, but I fear your sense are fuddled. We have not come back anywhere. This is where you fell off,”

Karlyn’s gaze slowly swivelled back and forth several times, then moved upwards and down. At the point when Meradat thought she had finished, she continued the practice in diagonal manner, at this stage sniffing in that houndish manner, while scratching at the chest of her shirt. The Custodian waited until she had finished; previous experience of her activities suggesting something useful or at best indicative would arise.

“No I didn’t,” she said, without any hint of anger, confusion or doubt, and with left eye closed and right looking down the length of the pointing index finger continued “I was up there, just at that bend, and you was ahead looking all important like you owned the fribbin’ road saying we would have to pick up the pace to a trot,”

“I was intending to make that intention known,” Meradat’s reply was couched in thoughtful tones; the cursed Stommigheid was wont to precipitate many unusual circumstances “So, Maid Nahtinee What does the Lord God suggest to you?”

“Well, it’s not like he’s told me directly into my ears, but if you’re asking me. If I says I was up the road a bit, and you think I fell off here, AND you were going to say something that I heard you say,” all this was accompanied by gestures in back and forwards directions. “Then I am going to guess that something very funny is happening with Time,” her voice took on a complaining tone “And I got hit by it!!”

CHAPTER  FIFTEEN

“Master Bleymore,”

Dekyria was very grateful for Beriit’s skill, two days on and Bleymore no longer twitched or shuddered at the idea that Dekyria wished him to look upon an oculator. Here in this rather modest and drab walled manse there were a number of interesting and also exciting matters taking place, no longer being alone in observation and feeling as safe as one could feel had allowed him to indulge in simple pursuit of knowledge.

And speculation.

“Do you feel there is some merit in the speculation regarding Temporal Displacement?”

Bleymore looked as if Dekyria had suggested they have a small convivial party.  And so in response he spoke in a relatively light manner.

“Some of the works on the subject do contain mathematics which lend a solid credence to the theory, and I have witnessed anomalies which could only be explained by referring back to these calculations!”

Dekyria wondered if the fellow was starting to feel at home, as it were and gestured to a vacant desk and oculator.

“We have been waiting for a replacement for a talented fellow who Drygnest decided to appropriate back from us. Would you take a seat there and observe for Signature Storm Blue waves, measuring the approximate interlude between each peak?”

Bleymore cautiously sat, aware of the attention of each of the file; the device was already activated, the steady deep green devoid of activity, awaiting the manipulation of the attendant gems.

“You’ve seen something?” he asked “What?”

“No influencing here Master Bleymore. You tell me what you see,”

The results had given Bleymore some crumb of comfort about his losing track of time. He had been trying to evaluate the passage of days have been there four days, maybe five, or three or seven?  It all made perfect sense now.

 

“… First evidence here of Astatheia in Temporal Displacement …”

“…. Imagine the distance usually taking five steps only takes four…”

“…Astatheia, producing or allowing imaginably small particles of equally incredible weight to appear….”

“….so much weight as to bend Time…”

“…to disappear as so as they appeared…”

Major Gellgrachen was currently seated back in a chair, at a desk hands apexed to mouth and obviously thinking upon the information each man had supplied; at least the parts which he could grasp. A short pause and he withdrew his hands settled to the table

“So, gentlemen. It is possible for it to be Today, Tomorrow and even Yesterday within one princedom and no one notice,”

“That’s the theory,” Dekyria thought as the military one of the two bearing the news it was correct he should do the answering “And it appears we do have evidence. Verified independently by Master Bleymore,”

“And if this continues?”

“Unnatural stresses will build up!” exclaimed Bleymore “Although most people’s sense adjust to such events, humans being remarkably empathetic with the…eh…Ethereal. Structures of land, sea and air are more basic in their responses, initially they absorb the pressures, withhold them, but for a rock say to maintain a status in two separate places in Time is one likely to results in a release of some sorts of energies, violently!”

“Spontaneously exploding rocks?” now Gellgrachen sounded concerned; indeed, he should the comparison with ordinance was all too clear to him “No, that’s won’t do at all. I’ll have to contact Drygnest. Captain Dekyria can you find out where the cause of this is happening?”

“We have My Major,” he shrugged “Well, in line with the evidence we have. I suppose it should be subject to independent analysis,”

“Drygnest will have to follow us Captain,”

Dekyria thought a reasonable statement, he continued.

“The port of Prendaelyn, My Major. It did not need much tracking. The act of confirming the effect resulted in the identification,”

“Oh, that place has a certain amount of mercantile and thus financial influence within parts of the nobility of Decoryx. Stealth will be needed. Now this is a tricky question. Can we be certain in these circumstances as to how long it will take to get there?”

“At the present My Major, as the effect is still very minor we can estimate the usual two days,”

“A file will be despatched then. We must trace and apprehend the reason for this before someone else does. After all, there’s bound to be others noticing and taking an interest! Make preparations for the ability for local tracking Captain, we can’t afford to have a file running about the place when they reach the town; they need to be able to get straight to the target,”

“Will it be extraction or extinguishment?” Dekyria asked casually, causing Bleymore to pale.

“We’ll have to make it up as we go along Captain. I’ll want the file leaving by dusk. Please attend Captain to ensure they have the right equipment,” Dekyria moved swifter than the pain his leg should have allowed lips tight over gritted teeth. Just as he reached the door “Oh Captain Dekyria,” Gellgrachen cautioned “You will of course remain at your post here. Your observation and control is essential,” Dekyria turned on his one whole good leg, face set.

“Of course, Major, sir,” he said, with parade ground salute to his heart, while swallowing the disappointment.

“You will stay here please Master Bleymore,” Gellgrachen stated.

The door closed heavily, the sound of one false leg scraping, then impacting fading.

“Ah, a shame. He thought he might be leading the mission,” Gellgrachen said “But each where they are best suited. Now to you Master Bleymore. I am very grateful for your efforts and contributions. You of course understand what takes place within this location is not for discussion with anyone unless authorised by myself or another officer,”

“I understand,” a nervous slight laugh escaped “So there will be an oath of secrecy will there?”

“Oh much better Master Bleymore,” Gellgrachen stood up, crossed to Bleymore laying his right hand on the man’s shoulder “As of this juncture, in accordance with the Edict of Methendav for the Imperial Good I am empowered to empress you into the ranks of The LifeGuard,” he took from one pocket a pair of metal castle shaped insignia “Lieutenant Bleymore. Yes I am sure it comes as a surprise, however there’s no option here. You sought and found us, you’ve been party to our operations,” his face darkened “And we do not like to waste potential,”

“Waste?” Bleymore managed appreciating the implications, not helped by Dekyria’s impassive silence., Gellgrachen continued.

“Yes. Accept that in good faith and all will be well Lieutenant. Now let us find you a uniform. Shall we?”

 

Trelli wondered if all this business of Migran’s was making her too jumpy by half. Everyone else at the market was naturally grumbling about some unexpected delays in deliveries. There were always unexpected delays in some deliveries. This time why should she be feeling worried instead of cross like everyone else?

 

Mid-morning.

There was a sharp unconditional knock on the door, and barely had Gellgrachen given the order to enter than it swung open Dekyria, Sergeant Erzns and Medician Beritt entering. Each regarded a rather embarrassed and fuddled Bleymore in the clean black sedentary duties tunic of the LifeGuard. Dekyria’s rather stiff expression turned to bemused surprise, Erzns square grim face displayed a flicker of disapproval, while Beritt gifted the new lieutenant with a polite smile.

Then they all saluted to Gellgrachen in his preferred informal style off two pressed together fingers to the right temple.

“I felt it was time to extend our compliment,” he offered by way of explanation “Lieutenant Bleymore. You will of course report directly to Captain Dekyria. Now Captain, preparations ready?”

“Oculartragen is prepared and validated My Major. Carrying sufficient resources to operate for a decan. The falconades are being armed by my file. Sergeant Erzns, I’ve witnessed your file’s competency on the training field. Ensure there is strict adherence to contingently necessary use. Additional charges will be too volatile for this mission, so there’ll only be what the weapons are carrying

“My Major?” Erzns terse, cold question signalled a hope for maybe additional information

“Sergeant Erzns. We have a situation of grave importance. This seems to be taking place around the area of Prendaelyn and involves unsanctioned Asatheria. Drygnest have been informed and have approved my course of action,” Gellgrachen’s opening words stilled at interruptions from Erzns. In his uncomplicated world even if receiving an order from Drygnest involved one’s own death, the only question to be asked would be the amount of damage required prior to demise. “One update Captain Dekyria, Drygnest instructs we are to extract, unharmed, the person who is source of the problem and bring them here pending transference to Drygnest They will need to be examined,”

Beritt listened casually, thinking it was nice to be alerted well in advance this time; she could plan her entire routine around calming down someone who had to spend a few days with Erzns pack’ Suddenly it was all Astatheia, Astatheia. After this she could write a pamphlet of the treatment of…

“Medician Beritt you will be part of Sergeant Erzns file in this mission,” The Major had expected three expressions based on surprise, so carried on smoothly “We don’t know what state this person or persons will be in. We cannot have them being disruptive or unsettled on the return journey. Your mouth medician. Close it please. Thank you,” he turned his attention to Erzns saying with heavy emphasis “Colonel Rachterg made the specification,”

Dekyria judged by the way Erzns second scowl melted to a very thoughtful frown at Beritt that there must be a certain history involving the sergeant and the legendary ‘Iron Kreydez’ Rachteg. Beritt, give her due was not saying anything, just swaying a bit.

Bleymore was also quiet; into some sort of reflecting. Gellgrachen meanwhile pressed on.

“Drygnest have also ordered you to leave at dusk, at The Nineteenth Thousand. Something to do with their analysis of possible Temporal Latitudes? I’ll give the transcript to you Captain Dekyria I’m sure you and The Lieutenant can make more sense of it than I,” the business-like tone turned to one of gravitas “You will instruct Medician Beritt in the operation of an Oculartragen. Medician Beritt you are to place your basic duties in the hands of Equesteria H’senez, you will inform her now, then report to Captain Dekyria and finally Sergeant Erzns,”

 

“I got to look after that lot of wobbling whingers as well as my darlings!!”

Even if it was only for mucking out purposes H’senez with a pitchfork tended to make Beritt nervous; standing straight upright knee high in dirty hay one hand set on hip the other with pitchfork aloft only made the equestria look even more intimidating.

“Well it’s only the day to day sort of stuff. I’ve done to regular check for Particular Boils,”

“Good! I don’t want to listen to old jokes about weaponry and comparisons with stallions,” Klareh dove the pitchfork into the hay and settled into sympathy. “High Holy Arketre, they dropped you in that. Reckon it’s linked with…errr… y’know?”

“These are orders straight from Drygnest,”

“Scraith,”

Beritt snorted her agreement, with folded arms leant against the nearest object, being a stall

“Yeh!, Erzns crew are taking those whizz-whoosh falconades with them; the ones that near took Peller’s leg off! And I gotta learn Owl stuff too,”

“Are you supposed to telling this?”

“Aww scraith! It’ll filter out. Me going with Erzns’ pack. Our visitor now a l’tenant,”

At this juncture an equine head, small and with untidy mane appeared over the stall and gently nudged Beritt.

“Oh Poseydale, nice to see you too. C’mon Klareh, this little sweetie wants carrots,”

“Sweetie! You’re the only one, she doesn’t try and bite or kick! This is moving way beyond the usual Observation business, isn’t it?” she handed some carrots to Beritt who began to fuss the mare “Poor Patch ‘Em-Up Arketre. Least I can do is set Poseydale ready for you,”

 

Firstly, Beritt put together the normal collection of salves, potions, bandages and herbs to be taken by a medician of a decan long journey. She then added a few extra ‘bit and pieces’ of her own choosing. Satisfied with being able to organise her own world Beritt then made her reluctant way to Dekyria’s domain, and into a small particular room. One with an oculator attached some sort of birdcage-shaped thing; and in one corner a case of musty books.

She was subjected to a lecture on the smaller compact version of the oculator. No doubt Dekyria thought this was basic but precise, whereas Beritt reckoned she had only absorbed about one part in five of what Captain Dekyria had told her. He then presented her with a small leather-bound book filled with symbols and short explanations, explaining how important this would be during the mission as she would be able to rely on one person. Having then made her feel thoroughly unsettled, he picked up one of the musty books, thumbed through it as he spoke.

“Calming Bleymore and giving him to will to speak, work with us demonstrated your skill, even art medician, to a high degree. My estimation is that you have a certain empathy with matters and people involving Astatheia. Oh, don’t look so alarmed, everyone has to some degree, yours is probably heightened by a capacity for caring,”

Beritt blushed, feeling a bit guilty now at realising some folk actually appreciated her as a person.

“So bear this in mind when you are on this task. You may well encounter incidences where the reality you understand, the day to day ordinary will seem to drift away from you. This is The Astatheia let lose. Think of it as if you were suddenly in a fast flowing river. What do you do then?”

The analogy emboldened Beritt; she could speak from experience.

“Why Captain, as a country girl with mah own experience of such; on account of being getting into scraps and scrapes, I would go with the current for a while until I found mah bearings and then go looking for safe banks, islands or rocks,”

“Bear that in mind then medician,”

Why! An approving grin from a captain!

And all she had to do now is satisfy Erzns she could load and shoot a crossbow bolt without impaling her own foot.

Followed by the thoughts natural enough for any trooper.

“Why me?”

“Your turn,”

She would put that whispered response down to one of those fuzzy instances when your mind is all of a buzzing bee-hive.

 

Of Patchwork Warrior Episode 4

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Of Patchwork Warriors Part 4

OK, here’s the next part. This one is tricky because I have to talk ‘tech’ about how ‘things’ work; it seemed easier to concentrate the whole aspect in a ‘tech’ atmosphere. So here it is to be read now, or some time later, or saved and read as one whole book at some later, later, later time. Hey! It’s all cool.

CHAPTER NINE

Migran hovered in his own doorway, apparently transfixed in surprise or horror; which one it was hard to say, as his expression kept lurching while anger fitted into the mix. Trelli dropped the lid in surprise without being swift enough to get some fingers out of the way, the resulting pain adding a fuel to her own shock, resulting in an unexpected small fire of indignation.

“I might ask you the same Master Migran!” she blurted back. In her time in the orphanage the devoteds had been intense in teaching that if you knew it was wrong you should say so and not fear the consequences; the old lessons coming to the fore she strove on. “I knew you were up to something! Telling me those papers were to do with tax laws when there was not a jot of legal piffle in them! I don’t know what this is Master Migran, but it smells wrong and is probably worse!!”

That said, she sat back, nursing injured fingers between opposite side and arm, but keeping her disapproving scowl fixed on him.

Used to being lectured by father, advised by mother and cheerfully joshed by his brother, Migran was somewhat taken aback at his last refuge of supremacy being in a state of rebellion. Thus chagrined into immobility he remained exiled upon the borders of his own domain, and so reduced to pleading for some sort of acceptance or comprehension.

“Trelli! Let me explain things to you!” since she didn’t snap at him he felt he could step into his own room and close the door. “It’s not as bad as you might think it is! It’s all very simple really!”

Trelli remained scowling and despite his squeak of protest once more lifted the lid of the desk and peered in and promptly set an accusing and troubled look upon him.

“Is this one of these stormingdiddle things?”

“The Stommigheid,” he replied trying to inject a level of injured dignity and ending up sounding peevish “The authorities teach us falsehoods. It is not foolish or dangerous, it is a wondrous gift we can use!”

He advanced, she stiffened, closed the lid and seemed intent upon repelling him from any attempt to reclaim his property; he halted and tried to sound reasonable.

“I have worked for three years crafting this, from scraps of information and bits and pieces I came by. It’s an oculator. I can use it to scan the Oakhostian, listen in on others using their devices; give father and my brother an edge in the business. Of course it might take some explaining so I will have to be cautious,”

“Cautious!” she’d never felt so bold to speak back so, but if tax fraud was not bad enough, here was Migran fooling about with forbidden things “Do you think this” she rattled the desk lid “Is being cautious! Folk get found out y’know. The Custodians will get called in! You need to stop this now!!”

Suddenly possessed of the irrational idea that a small maid was wont to have a hammer somewhere about her person and was going to take it to his oculator Migran found his own sort of boldness, which since he wasn’t actual that bold came out in a more furtive way.

“Well who are you going to tell Trelli? Are you going to admit to breaking into my room and rummaging through my belongings? You might get the grim sympathy of a Custodian for doing the Good Lord God’s work, but there will be no one in this town who would trust a servant prone to sneaking about the place. We all have secrets y’know,”

Trelli at being threatened so suddenly lost the last shred of proprietary and jabbed her butter knife in his direction

“Don’t you threaten me Migran Hendrechan!! I’m not doing your rotten ol’ paperwork anymore!” she snatched into the one draw and pulled out the copy of “The Lustful Revenge of the Scorn’d Princess N’Y Hishleal of Old Roder” waving it with all the force of a battle flag. “And as for this-this!” she threw it down on the floor, and randomly kicking the said volume sent it skidding under his bed. Not familiar with the concept of irony she saw nothing amusing and was set to storm past him. As he was still of a dither and stuck halfway betwixt door and desk, she ended up, close and staring up at him “So you’d better change your ways and your notions Migran Hendrechan !” he shook, there was sarcasm in the normally placid voice

There was a pause, a quizzical expression from Trelli and she looked down, gasped, making a sound half way between a snarl and snort

“Do you mind stepping to one side!!”

Having suffered the social shock of once being reduced from Master Migran to Migran Hendrechan twice short succession and because of her waving of the butter knife at him he obeyed.

Thus she rushed past uttering sounds of outrage.

Leaving Migran a bit puzzled at details of her exit, but then he became very aware of his own aroused physical state.

Trelli had never had that effect on him before, and her in such a wild and angry mood too!

He slumped on his bed confused and wishing for impossible things to turn up and put it all right.

 

Dekyria was letting their guest, captive or acquisition; call him what you will continue to doze, hunched up in a corner of the captain’s domain. Currently Dekyria’s attention was upon the reports from his Owls.

Each one had observed a series of bright pinpoints of white light moving swiftly from left to right across the bottom of the mirror’d surfaces of the oculators. Further examination suggested they were all the same event. This was noteworthy as each of the file were observing different regions of the central southern coastal lands. An event which imposed on all oculators should in theory be a large, and thus in the physical sense likely to be not just disruptive but also destructive. So something very small, but very intrusive, without being disruptive?

Alternately maybe not yet disruptive.

There were people at Drygnest who studied theory and possibilities and were wont to quote surviving snatches from or speculate upon the legendary tome ‘Numbers Where There Are None’. Dekyria was sure they would have been enraptured to have witnessed this. While he?

Just had to guess, wonder and watch.

His attention turned upon the sleeping figure.

“Now. Can you explain this. Or are you part of it?”

His previous experience gained on in scouting was coming to the fore. The constant seeking for signs of the foe’s activities, then evaluating those in their intentions.

This Bleymore’s arrival was not the first sign of possible trouble, there are been more than the usual amount minor and careless Jordisk stuff. Single dabblers in varied locations, no communications between them, and the general picture seemed to be one of observation; carrying its own dangers as evidenced by Bleymore. Whereas his Owls kept furtive and painstaking watch through various forms of cover and deceptions, these inexperienced Jordisk were wont to go blundering in, presumably for the excitement of seeing something forbidden. This in turn suggested there was something forbidden making itself known, which indicated The Zerstorung was restless stirring up these forbidden somethings. The latter being fairly mild stuff, ancient blasphemous symbols true or false, rotting and wayward wrecks of physical attempts to travel between realms. An inexperienced person would not know how to actually view The Zerstorung so complex were the pathways. Again, Dekyria was back with Bleymore.

And Medician Arketre Beritt’s surprisingly incisive and empathetic action.

He could not help but wonder if in such a situation something was being stirred within her. All folk had a potential to respond to the Astatheia; some more than others.

With all these indications, he could believe there was the threat of an immediate foe. From this he had to ask himself, was the foe making a deliberate strategic attempt to advance, or was in taking advantage of an opportunity?

 

CHAPTER TEN

So Dekyria set his men upon a seeking out the signs of the true foes.

And as expected ….

The journey was difficult.

Whereas this new journey of discovery had been interesting and with some satisfaction, neither Dekyria nor his small command were content with the knowledge that they were possibly witnessing a series of echoes.

Echoes from places which had no locations, and were thus spontaneously appearing. This would have had some grim reasoning if there were the signatures of Zerstorung indications. These latest ones had a purity to them. After a day of thorough sifting and checking, the results remained stubbornly the same.  Fileman Zanten possessed of a certain whimsical humour had suggested they might have to give consideration to existence of little pixies after all. Dekyria might have found this slightly amusing if he had been unable to rid himself of wondering if that were possible?

Leaving out the suggestion of small fairy folk Dekyria had discussed the sighting with Major Gellgrachen. The latter anticipating Drygnest would immediately request more information on the nature of such sighting, told Dekyria he should give the matter priority and pursue with all available resources.

 

“He’s still afflicted with shock and unsettlements to his being Captain,” Beritt reported on being once more woken up and placed in a cold corridor by Dekyria “He should be afforded a time to feel at peace,” She would have liked that for herself too; making sure troopers were free for illnesses and well as repaired from injuries was a busy business, as was making sure every possible healing potion, salve and so forth was available for anyone not just for the LifeGuard but for any circumstance deemed  Applicable.

“Would that we were a sanctuary for weary bodies, minds and souls Medician. However, Master Bleymore’s return to comprehension and so able to be of assistance is necessary,” Beritt was about to reinforce her considered opinion, but Dekyria put more emphasis into his Captain’s face and voice. “We have our orders from Major Gellgrachen. Do what you can with all haste Medician,”

Beritt’s feeling was that it was a translator or one of their own military versions, an andliga and not a medician who was required. But she kept her opinion to herself. And since this was obviously going to be one of those priority things in future she was going to sleep with her socks on.

 

So Bleymore’s fourth day under LifeGuard custody started in the last thousand of the Deep Night Watch. His nervous restlessness and clipped uncertain manner of speech both settled at Beritt’s approach. Her brief friendly routine of asking after his health, polite request to stare into his eyes, place two fingers on his upturned wrist and count; set her hands lightly on his temples, and count, ask if he’d slept, then an inconsequential chat about the springtime while she mixed up a harmless looking drink which he took willingly.

She hoped she’d got the mixture just so. The Captain would not be pleased with a sleeping Master Bleymore, just a very relaxed one.

And there was the slight change. She was of course friendly; solicitous in fact.

“Perhaps Master Bleymore, now that you are used to us and our ways, you might find having a chat with Captain Dekyria would be of some use in lifting the burden of your fears. He’s very understanding and experienced. I’ll get you your breakfast so y’all have a think about that,”

By the time, she returned with the bowl of porridge made tolerable with a spoonful of jam Bleymore managed a smile which Dekyria reckoned to be partly of gratitude but mostly due to her efficacy at mixing her potion.

Once out of the room Beritt gave way to a long yawn.

“Never mind the medician,” she muttered “It’s a well-known fact they don’t need sleep, all part of their fribbin’ training,”

 

“She’s very kind,” Bleymore said a quarter way through the meal. Dekyria took advantage of this change from the previous litany of short, nervous and oblique statements of fear and warning.

“One of the best medicians I have ever met,” Dekyria was truthful in this “We had an incident mid-winter,” he paused, intentionally “A flaw in a device. There was an explosion. Tore open a man’s leg from ankle to thigh. She was there like a hawk, staunching blood, administering soporific, speaking with authority to the man and anyone she needed to assist, even managed to sew up the leg. Then sat with him for four days unless called away. He’s stuck with a hell of a limp, but he’ll live,”

Bleymore managed a slight smile

“A device? Would that have been an Ethereally charged device?”

Call it what you will, just speak to me Master Bleymore’

“I could not confirm that,”

Bleymore understood

“There is much danger with The Ethereal, as long as it’s natures and origins remain unclear. It’s why my chosen preference was for observation,” and returned to the breakfast, Dekyria bided his time, watching his own oculator, which was currently not showing much of interest. He had been hoping for a convenient appearance of the new lights, but of course that would be asking for an unheard of collaboration from the Astatheia. Just be glad of the fellow talking and carry on with his meal.

But after a short time, pressed by his own concerns Dekyria felt time to move the conversation on.

“I can agree with that,” and made much of staring at his mirror’d waiting for the man’s reaction. Eventually emboldened by Beritt’s meal and soporific, Bleymore carefully edged closer.

“May I?” he asked.

And we have a start!’

Dekyria agreed; just the simple pattern of pale waves of light green indicating a certain amount of very minor activity about a hundred myles away.

“It’ll be another observer,” Bleymore offered “Possibly spying on someone else working for a lord or higher noble, maybe?” he sniffed “They’re being a bit obvious,” he pointed to a shade of blue at the top of the wave “That will be the target. Also, obvious,”

“Agreed. We’ve been keeping any eye on them, just in case it’s a fabrication for a subversive exchange of information,”

Bleymore fidgeted, lacing and unlacing his fingers, glancing from one direction to another, before he drew a little closer to Dekyria, an index finger pointing to the mirror’d surface, his voice low, cautionary.

“You see on the lower area a thin line of orange which transmutes finally into the green?” Dekyria hadn’t noticed, one of those activities it takes a fresh pair of eyes to catch. “In my experience that suggests a pressure, one being caused by the influence of the demonic Zerstorung. Not a rupture yet, but this careless activity could wear away the boundaries, y’see?”

“Really Master Bleymore? Would you say that’s a new development? Because it’s not one we’ve been alerted to?”

“Aspects change. That much I know,”

“Then thank you for your commentary,”

The man smiled briefly then shied away back to his table and the remains of his meal.

“I dare not stay too long at a screen. They might see me. They know of me, you see. This is why I fled here. The closest of sanctuaries,”

And he turned his face away to the wall.

‘Scraith! Sometime soon we’ll need you again Beritt. But timing. Timing,’

 

Karlyn comfy in her perch, twitched and opened one eye. The night was still, clear and clean and Dawn’s early smear would not be far off. His Sterness Meradat was awake and consulting one of his tomes Fair enough. So just what was the buzzing about, it wasn’t bee-time yet.

She had the oddest notion about them pixie folk being mischiefs and flitting their wings in her nostrils.

Fine way to wake a girl up’

And uncurled to alight, another day’s travel ahead. Then just before alighting, sat alert into the gloom.

‘Somethings happening, or happened, or will happen…Oooh fun!’

 

Dragged from a bothered sleep Trelli first thought the furtive noise at the door was Tumble the family’s self-important cat insisting, as was his wont, to some sort of nocturnal attention from her, his personal servant, but then there was a hoarse, desperate, pleading whisper which could only be Migran.

“What you want?” she hissed, too tired, cold and cross to be civil.

“Trelli, I must show you something,”

The doughty and indefatigable Cook Murtha had lectured Trelli at great length and with much disparaging about the inclinations sons of Households. Afore that, the devoteds of the Libratery orphanage had explained to those girls leaving childhood of the natures of men and women. And neither source would have counselled her to be opening her door, but seeing as how she was still furious at Migran, she felt inclined to give him another taste of her displeasure.

“You get back to your room right now! Otherwise I shall raise my voice and call out ‘Oooh Master Migran cover yourself up! What do you intend with me!!’ And then you try and explain that to your mum and dad!!” the memory of that parting interlude still very clear in her mind.

Migran winced, some of his associates did seem to be allowed to be ‘affable’ to their serving girls, but his parents ever solid, honest and upright in everything but the family business had made it quite clear when Trelli had arrived that there would be no ‘taking advantages’. There had been more than one long lecture on morals and responsibilities. Anyway, until these past days Trelli had been the only one in the house who had not treated him in a manner suggesting he was someone to be cossetted from a world that might gobble him up. She’d almost been a sort of friend-ish person. He could not afford to lose her respect and, well he had best not think about anything else! He did so wish to explain things to her though, so risking damage to his nose he edged his face into the gap between door and frame.

“But Trelli, it’s the oculator. It’s working better than ever, it’s at full capacity. When you see how wonderful it is at full extension, it’ll take your breath away!”

And promptly wishes he hadn’t phrased it quite that way. But there was a simply a ‘humph!’ and a terse instruction to wait while she put on shoes and coat to at least look she was about some sort of duties.

 

One candle was doing its best at illumination, yet Trelli’s attention was taken by the pale glow from the mirror’d glass set in the metallic box now upon on Migran’s desk. From the glass came a steady soft pale light, itself a background to a variety of shapes in a myriad of colours; each moving from one edge of the glass to the other, and thence to move off to another edge; the vibration she had previously felt now an audible steady hum.

“I’ve been investigating for some time,” she did not appreciate his whispering over her shoulder, far too close, but the sight of a construction once outside of her imagining now working stifled all manner of objections. At this silence Migran’s own confidence returned, fully certain he could win her support and assistance back “There have been patches of light and flitters of shapes, the occasion sound. Now tonight, I followed the code on that document you saw, I was really careful and delicate with the tuning,”

“Tuning?” she echoed, having assumed that was something to do with music, only to have Migran take hold of her arm and gently direct her to the desk.

“No, it’s all to do with the way the oculator is worked. There are protocols and standards. See that line of twinkling gems below the screen. Well those are gems which are attuned to the elemental tides, currents and strings which make up The Nanonsphere; it’s the place where all the energies and abilities come from to make this possible,” he eased her down on the chair; Trelli transfixed somewhere between fascination and horror gave way to the urge to know something more about this threat “You see those metal discs, three on each side, well those I can use to focus on a particular subject; right now you are seeing everything the oculator is party to,” he reached over her and turned the top right disc right ways, in response circular shapes began to fade, until only squares and oblongs occupied a green background, he turned the next disc leftwards, the shapes stretched until they resembled lines moving horizontally jagged and sudden interruptions breaking up their flatness “And now, listen carefully”, he worked the bottom disc and from a distance Trelli could hear small voices made harsh with crackling and hissing, scaring her with the feeling that people had been shrunken and trapped in there. Sensing her tense, Migran placed one hand on her shoulder “It’s alright. It’s alright. The oculator is letting us listen to other people using their own communication devices,”

Trelli eased at the touch, then remembered it was A Touch and shrugged his hand off.

“But it’s all strange,” she dared not raise her voice above the whispering “It’s like standing on the edge of the sea cliffs in the wild winds. You feel you could jump and fly, you nearly might, but you know it’ll be wrong,”

Migran was not ready for a lyrical argument and Trelli truth be known was not sure where that sudden eloquence had come from. Far off she could hear waves playing out their song on the rocks, somewhere a gull was voicing out it feelings suggesting dawn could not be all that far away.

“I don’t know Master Migran,”

Why did that return of deference chill him?

“I just don’t know. I suppose you’ve done something some might think is clever, but it scares me. It’s not a good time to talk about this anymore. These things are best talked about in daylight. I gotta go now. It’ll be time to get up soon,” and swivelling from his chair, moving so fast he could only feel a brush of her arm, she was out of the door.

He looked to the still open door, to the chair and back to the screen, hands clenching, teeth set tight.

And no thoughts about how he was going to sell this to his parents and brother.

Instead after closing the door, he returned to his desk.

“I will fly Trelli. You’ll see. I will,”

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

The interlude between the Deep Night and when in accordance with LifeGuard regulations, Daytime commenced was by custom one of muted sound and careful tread as those heavy with the need for sleep exchanged places with those hauling themselves out of that realm. As this only involved eight persons who all valued the quiet more the better to concentrate, or not become agitated all went smoothly.

Dekyria supposed he should have made some time for a rest upon his own bed. However, he disliked the involved business of removing the leg, and of course knowing he would have to put it back on and there was the attendant discomfort. In any case, he reasoned he should be about because that most serious Jordisk work or blasphemous efforts using similar devices would be conducted under the cloak of night.  So, as he saw it dozing over his oculator in this time of emergency was the responsible approach. And in truth he was actually dozing when the door opened a second and more resolute way

“The Good Lord Be Praised. He hath guided us through yet another night!”

Everyone supposed Beritt was simply acting out of custom from her days as a devoted in a Libratery. Beritt told herself this was the case and not out of sheer grumpiness through lack of sleep and so making sure everyone else was awake too. Anyway, medicinal ministration had to conducted no matter whichever whatway folks felt. Thus, announced she eased into the domain with her usual two haversacks cross-slung about shoulders and chest, while carrying a large pot of coffee as her bribe. With a brief salute to Dekyria she then moved about the desks in a smooth routine of the past three days. Special circumstances. Special orders, she’d been told.

“There you go. Coffee,” she poured some into the nearest mug. “Now head back, and eyes wide open!” sometimes that required a sharp shove to the chest of a trooper not swift enough, as from a slender glass bottle she tipped two drops into each eye, unsympathetically replying to complaints about the stinging. “And there’s your headache potion,” she would set down a thimble sized clay mug “Y’all know the rules. Only if your head pain is causing your vision to go askew, an’ if it’s not better in a five hundred come an’ see me,”

Jeden and Pauler who had been the watch of the Deep Night made the natural pleas for coffee and were told they needed sleep and so had carrot tea. Pauler, ever hopefully he could win the argument stated the common opinion that whereas Beritt brewed not-bad coffee, her carrot tea tasted like cat’s piss. Beritt simply retorted she couldn’t be held responsible for what he drank off-duty or for what reason but wouldn’t advise it.

When Bleymore’s arrival and words had indicated a higher level of observation Dekyria had approached Beritt to voice his concerns about the effects intense and long episodes at an oculator would have upon his owls. He had been pleased and impressed she was swift with a solution. His concerns for his men were contradiction to any willingness for treatment upon himself. Beritt approached him; always cautiously. She set down the potion for headpains and filled up his coffee mug with all due respect to his rank, and then, in tones usually timorous waved the slender glass bottle and its pale blue liquid.

“Cap’n. Sir. If you’d please, sir,”

There was no possibility he could apply this himself without a comic spillage. He could avoid her fussing about his leg and just order her to leave the salves with him. At least she had the sense to be swift and functional.

Grateful that little bit of daily difficulty was over Beritt turned her attention to the recumbent Bleymore, still sleeping in the cot brought into the domain for this purpose. He felt safer with like-minded men. She was about to ask Dekyria if she should wake the man now, and also if it might be best to stop administering the soporific when trooper Pilor who had benefitted from half a night’s sleep and thus somewhat alert called out.

“Everyone to your oculators! Those white lights are on their way in!!”

All thoughts of long interlude with the coffee were swept away.

“Wake up our guest Medician!!”

“As you wish Captain,”

 

This was delicate. Bleymore’s usual style of waking being sudden, wide-eyed and fearful; to actually wake him risked a lashed-out arm to the face. Thus, this time Beritt approached with all caution and lightness of touch. Truth be known Dekyria’s patience was being tested. Being two days short of sleep and with the stump of his leg troubling him more than usual was affecting his judgement. If the man did strike out at Beritt then Dekyria would be forcibly telling Bleymore that anyone who had spent time with The Astatheia should be prepared to face up to the presence of The Zerstorung.

Meanwhile amongst all the activity Beritt went about her task, arm’s length away and hand resting upon, then gently squeezing his shoulder.

“Master Bleymore all is well,”

Whereas she had seen many forms of fear, she was not too well versed in the sort caused by footling with The Astatheia. To her relief his response was a blinking of the eyes. He did seem to have some trouble in recognising her, the fug cleared soon.

“It’s Medician Beritt?” to which she nodded, and managed the smile she kept for the afflicted, while he looked over her shoulder at the LifeGuards, then placed one hand upon her shoulder, to ask in a hoarse tone “Is anyone dead yet?”

“Of course not,” she said with a laugh, a nervous laugh, he sounded as if he knew things peculiar “This is a LifeGuard outpost, all set for Astatheia, well Ethereal if you like,”

She proffered him carrot tea from the small urn; he seemed glad, but she reckoned more like a distraction, he sipped, did not grimace then looked over her shoulder at figures, faces made pale storm green from the light of their machines, their Captain moving from one to another. Bleymore sat up, now he was squeezing her shoulder “Creatures lurk at the edge of my sleep,”

Folk going on about things from The Zerstorung stirred more of Beritt’s religious tenure.

“Y’all have faith in the Good Lord God Master Bleymore…Ouch! That sir is a strong grip y’ have there,”

“Sorry,” Bleymore withdrew his hand and getting up stepped into the business going all about them, leaving Beritt sitting on the edge of the cot, and making the best of the carrot tea and chewing on a snatch of leathery meat, a sort of breakfast. Dammit! The carrot tea did not taste at all as bad as Pilor claimed

Bleymore had joined Dekyria, glancing at each ocular and listening to the troopers, picking with increasing anxiety at his clothing.

“Your opinion Master Bleymore?” Dekyria asked, finding the fidgeting very distracting.

“I fear everyone is looking at what they should not!!”

In Beritt’s experience Dekyria was mostly patient, and usually amicable just so long as you didn’t persist in bothering him about his leg, but she guessed all this alarmancy and urgency were no doubt combining with the pain he must be suffering in that leg, because he was getting that pinched-faced eye-glaring look and he wasn’t taking kindly to a civilian telling him his job. She swigged down some carrot tea and swiftly interposed, between the men, soft smile in place.

“We’re LifeGuard, Master Bleymore. We are the constant arm and watch of the Grand Oaken Throne. Our sole purpose is its defence and maintenance. We are expected to go where we should not, and when we are there; we do rescue, or we make fortified, or, to the incautious and evil we will strike down,” she paused for a slight warm smile and took his hands in hers “In this we are quite insistent sir,” a brief laugh “So trust me, and let’s walk and see what it might be which concerns you,”

While Dekyria was slowly inhaling, a sign he was trying to calm down Bleymore appeared to be studying her, she felt he was peering at her, as if she was a new phenomenon. Goggled at by men for simply being a girl of the for sight of seeing a woman hand deep in the business of healing wounds was not new, whereas being considered as something irregular in the World was…unsettling. Although, ironically, he seemed to be quite…settled?

Beritt walking backwards led him to the spare oculator

Dekyria and his men did not know how she was managing to convince someone to walk to his apparent worse fears. Bleymore found against all rational notions and experiences that he was trusting this young woman.

Beritt for the life of her wondered just how she ended up saying the things she did whenever she was, in practical terms, over her head. She just had to assume it was all down to LifeGuard Medician training.

Since she could feel the man’s hands becoming clammy with sweat and his expression slipping back to agitation, Beritt looked over her shoulder towards the screen.

She now had a chance to look longer upon that dark green, reminding her of secluded leafy bowers back home in Jayleen County and dear Trayon, who her brothers would have killed if they’d known what used to transpire in those leafy bowers. The reverie broken by the passage across the bottom of the screen of a moving line of lights sparkling white bordered with the pale blue of her home’s forget-me-nots.

“Oooh. Pretty,” she said, without any fear or pause for thought and set her attention back on Bleymore “What is there is be afraid of Master Bleymore?” not showing any concern Bleymore’s shaking of his head and gnawing of one finger she continued her accent deepening “This reminds me of mah home; stars on moisty nights, when the mists played blue gossamers all around o’them,”

“Don’t look anymore!” he pressed on, calling out to the room in general “These are pinpricks in the reality that we know! Through these can seep things evil and predatory,”

“Stay your posts!” Dekyria snapped out the order, when he spoke so none of his file dared do otherwise.

She had a stab of worry she might have dragged him too far too fast, only to be bothered by a slight itch to her left ear, she idly scratched then popped another sliver of tough meat into her mouth. Some confidence and clarity returned.

“I am sure you have seen things Master Bleymore that give you cause for concern. But y’see there are certain consistency in Nature. Now I have had to look at many a wound gone bad and the results of a fever which has taken on a decaying hold. In them there are many bright and twinkling colours but none of them look even the slightest bit pretty. This seems to me, anyhows a possible affinity between us and this, err..Ethereal y’ call it?”

Bleymore nodded, now looking slightly perplexed and just idly chewing on his finger.

“To mah opinion it would seem, to me, what I see, if it is pretty, then it is,” she shrugged “Natural. Oh by the way Master Bleymore that chewing on your finger could cause damage,” she rummaged into a bag hanging from her belt and offered him a slice of dried meat “Try this, it is nutritious and is good for agitation,” while his mouth worked for an answer she placed a piece inside.

There was a silence, Bleymore began to work the stubborn stuff while looking at Beritt who looked back, appearing quite calm and confident.

Her heart hammering; she’d not made anything up, but how often did truth and sincerity not work in this world?

Bleymore relaxed, slumped into a chair, vacantly chewing.

“Fascinating,” he said his gaze shifting between Beritt and The Oculator

Dekyria’s file waited for their Captain to make some statement; they received his own brief shrug and they all went back to watching as Bleymore tentatively followed Beritt’s lead and pulled a chair over to where she sat down looking at the oculator of Dekyria’s desk, tracing a finger just above the surface.

“Pinpricks of what and how?” she asked.

Bleymore was about to say something all of a hurry, then peered intently at the screen; this interlude between the two intrigued Dekyria. Was Beritt actually leading Bleymore?

“Odd. I do think I was wrong,” Bleymore said then shook his head “No, more than odd. It’s Temporal!”

Beritt didn’t take much comfort from Dekyria’s casual open-handed gesture for her to take the lead with Bleymore.

“Temporal? What’s time got to do with it?” Bleymore and Dekyria initially winced at the edge to her voice, only to notice she was intent on the oculator and not any person.

“Those faint blue outlines. If you look carefully you will see they are moving in left wards direction around the points of light,” she squinted, nodded agreement, kept quiet “A blue which does not move indicates a potential of energy not yet realised but one shifting in a leftwards indicates an irreversible future event,”

On hearing that and somewhat to Beritt’s relief Dekyria strode into the conversation.

“Pardon my presumption Master Bleymore, but I was given to believe there cannot be an irreversible future event because the future is a constant prone to flux,”

“This would be true for events which are classified along the lines De’Jerns’s Categories of Import. But Themderharn pointed out a flaw in not taking into account Events Miniscule,”

“But surely those are the very ones which can unhinge any predictability?”

“Indeed. But only when aligning them with the correct Assessment of Connexion. If you place them in isolation, then because they are acting on their own temporal space the ascribed miniscule inertia will ensure only one outcome. Thus, when dealing with Ethereal matters, these events can send an echo indicating the event must and will take place. Therefore, this small Future in one very small particle of place and time has therefore taken place,”

Beritt experiencing another circumstance which was taking place over her head in the literal and the allegorical let the pair rattle on. She’d got Bleymore relaxed, not afraid of the whatever the pretty was, and chatting away to the captain. So as far as she was concerned her job was done.

“Excuse me Captain and Master Bleymore. I have to attend to the preparation of potions and salves, no doubt some fool will turn up with an injury that they had no business inflicting, and there may always be a member of the sanctioned population arriving unannounced,”

Dekyria dismissed her with a vague wave, which she found mildly irritating. Since the whole lot were now goggling about Bleymore’s desk like spell-bound school boys, she took it she was quite forgotten. Thank you Medician!

Outside she slumped against a wall and exhaled upwards causing her fringe to levitate, it was something of a trademark sign of relief or incredulity, she also closed her eyes and began to whisper a swift prayer of thanks for not having inadvertently caused a ruckus; her devotion was interrupted.

Dekyria!

One hand on her shoulder, she started. Moving with speed with a wooden leg was one thing, being stealthy was quiet another!

“You’ve been invaluable medician. Bleymore is speaking sentences of sense and information. Your work with him is-“

‘Frib sake don’t say genius. Not when I’m making it up as I go along’

“True empathy with a sufferer. Well done medician. Well done,” the hand lifted and clapped down on her shoulder, which already sore from one grip sagged a bit under the impact, she smiled, weakly “But remember. This cannot be disclosed Beritt. No part of it, to anyone, not without my say-so. Nothing Beritt,”

There was a curious pause, and then he turned, on his good leg and was off upon his own business, leaving Beritt to repeat the exhalation, and to tread wearily away to catch up on some of that day’s routine mixing of potions and salves.

Of Patchwork Warriors (What the Earth he is on about- ie a Glossary)

Of Patchwork Warriors Episode 1

Of Patchwork Warriors Episode 2

Of Patchwork Warriors Episode 3

 

Would be Writers. Learn by others follies and mishaps

So this blogging thing? Are there rules and conventions? Or do you make it up as you go along? At this stage should I be including pictures of puppies, kitten or bear cubs doing cute things, or is that best of specific sites; there again I don’t think I know how to upload such pictures, well not with any degree of confidence. But does that matter, because as there are specific sites dedicated to such events, therefore mayhap I should writing about things that I know best.

Which is…..

How not to be a successful writer. In point of fact how not to be a writer with any sort of profile what so ever. I mean be fayre to you the reader, until now had you even had any idea there were a trilogy of books within the series of The Nearly Not Quite Paladins. ? Of course you haven’t. Why should you? I mean you enter the word ‘Paladin’ and there about 29,100,00 hits likely to come up on a search engine, but they are probably mostly to do with RPG (computer and board) sites and who’d think to enter The Nearly Not Quite Paladins  ? unless we are into the realms of random entries and aspects of synchronicity.

So there is a lesson good reader. Make sure folk know about you and your work.

I will not progress any further on lessons as yet but will return to the initial reason as to why I have created this blog. It is to make the would-be writer feel better about themselves.

Yes there are goodly books which offer fine and worthy advice to the writer starting off. They are written by folk who are successful writers, or folk who are good at sounding as if they are successful writers. But does this really help the fragile individual who emerging from the cocoon of indecision now sits there trembling with still damp and untested wings of ambition? Do they really wish to be blasted by the winds of triumph and whisked off into confusing storms of How What Where and When? Being told that one should toil and sweat with a purpose that puts everything else to one side? That one should not visit that elderly relative anymore when one should be writing? And why are you sitting here reading this when you should be writing! And take over a room in the house! What you live in a one room place? Then hurl out your neighbour! Art must not be stifled!! And by the way don’t expect to have best sellers or books made into films, you must settle for far lesser rewards. ‘Tis a hard world of writing! Expect misery and disappointment!

Would that not make the new writer unsettled and fearful and think that maybe they are not quite up to the task yet and perhaps it would be best if they put it off for another year. And anyway does not that book filled with such sage and weighty advice seem a bit too expensive when success might not be certain?

No, far better for the would-be writer to read of the rather tragically comic soul who by various dream-like schemes and hastily patched together notions made so little progress as to make many of today’s governments seem to be thrusting dynamic houses of progress and rationality. Would you not rather learn by some other person’s mistakes? Would you not feel better by thinking ‘Oh dear (chuckle). What a silly thing to do. If I can see that was just plain stupid. Then maybe there is hope for me in my modest ambitions’

So this is the path we will be taking. I will be telling you all about my own efforts and of those of my acquaintances, and hopefully we will make your journey a less fraught and upsetting one, leading to one or two volumes of your own being knowing by more than just yourself and a few sympathetic relatives or friends.

I shall leave now to learn about SEOs, URLs and stuff like that

Up-date…….. And in the spirit of this blog, in this month of September I have finally found Tags & Categories!! This could be the big-breakthrough….which might spoil the nature of the blog…..Ah me…beset by choices

A True History of The Isles Vol II Chapter 15- The Wars of the Roses as advertised by Shakespeare, William.

Overview

Because the Wars of The Roses are very interesting, long and confusing they had the historical effect of making kings’ reigns part of them and not as was usual the other way around.

As it is important that the wars are addressed as the main topic we should therefore bear in mind that although they started (sort of) in 1455 and sorted ended almost in August 1485 at Bosworth Field, Battle Of; the whole business didn’t really stop there and slopped over even until Henry The VIII.

Causes for Origins

The build up to the actual wars was a long and complex business and is best consider from Edward III who in addition to invading many places also had lots of sons.

Sons of

Edward, Black Prince,- eldest and easily the most famous who would have been king but he died in France of not washing his hands. Thus kingship eventually passed to Richard II, who though not very successful did have a play written about him.

Lionel Duke of Clarence- he was born on 29th November 1338. He was 7 feet tall and had a daughter Philipa whose height was not recorded. She married on of many Edmund Mortimers. From this union was descended a Richard, a Duke of York who in the 1450s used to sit in Westminster saying he was or at least should be in charge.

John Duke of Lancaster– Born on the 6th March in the very neat years of 1340. He was serious, intelligent, gifted and so very Gaunt. For a while he aided Richard IIand also tried to be Spanish.,

Edmund Duke of York Born 5th June 1341. Richard II said after he had died, but not before Edmund was to be king; others didn’t agree, including Edmund.

Thomas Duke of Gloucester The youngest being born in 1355. He was one of the lords who forced Richard II to say for a while he was doing a bad job. Eventually Thomas was murdered by or for Richard II, who, therefore, can be seen as a wicked nephew

Events Prior To The Wars (Roses of)

When Richard (the II) died of Henry (the IV) he had not left a son (well not one that anyone noticed). This allowed everyone who was a male relative to say they had a ‘claim’ to the throne.

Amongst these was Henry IV (both Part 1 & 2) son of John of Gaunt by his wife Blanche who was a Bowfort, a careless family who had lost their name until it was found by Richard II who had generously said they could keep it.

Although Henry IV (Part I) had been crowned others said as he had only usurped the throne this didn’t count even if he did have two parts (and anyway he’d had lice). After Henry IV died of rebellions (and lice) there came Henry V. Now whereas some had tried to argue with Henry V they had ended up beheaded etc so the matter was dropped, however when he died of campaigning in France he only left a baby son who was was in a minority. The country was therefore run by a council of barons under the following rules and conventions:

They had to officially claim they acted in everyone’s best interests.

They acted in their own best interests.

They had to hate at least two other members of the council.

They either had to support war with France or peace with France.

They tried to avoid the king getting involved in government.

This never worked out well.

Things became so chaotic that two grand families who had their house in York or Lancaster tried to be kings.

Kings

During this era there were three and a bit kings these were:

Henry VI- (31st August 1422- 4th March 1461 & 3rd October 1470 -11th April 1471) who was possibly a kindly fellow (most of the time) and very pious, but was a weak king who kept on being captured and rescued and eventually recorded as being in Three Parts.

Edward IV- (4th March 1461 – 3rd October 1470 & 11th April 1471 – 9th April 1483) who was brave, bold and enjoyed his food so much that his brother Richard once playfully called him This Glorious Bun of York. Unfortunately, he had lots of other appetites and died of them.

Edward V– (9 April 1483- 25 June 1483). Son of IV. Who as he was only 12 didn’t get much of a chance and was either replaced or misplaced

Richard III- (26 June 1483- 22 August 1485) who took the whole business of kingship very seriously. He was the last King of England to fight a serious battle in England while famously and seriously being killed doing so. He may have seriously murdered his nephews (See Edward V) which makes him naturally far more interesting than his predecessors. He had a play written about him.

Personalities

Other folk who were as interesting if not more so were:

Edward IV’s father Richard The Duke of York who was not grand and old but stern, austere and told everyone he was king when he wasn’t.

Warwick Earl of; who was loyal to Henry, then Edward, then got fed up with them both and was loyal to himself.

The Earl of Gloucester who believed the answer to everything was to fight the French.

Queen Margaret wife of Henry VI who was French but preferred to be considered Of Anjou

And was easily the toughest of the lot.

Edmund Bowdiddly- A Duke of Somerset who believed the answer was not to fight the French but get very rich instead.

A proliferation of Edmund Mortimers

Naturally, the Scots.

Louis XI King of France, who won the Hundred Years War by cunning, deceit, plots and thus displayed more intelligence than the whole English lot put together.

The Tudors who were welsh who came in several types and sizes and eventually won the whole thing

Naturally there were also grasping rapacious families.

In subsequent chapters all of these will be dealt with in more details

A True History of The Isles Vol. II Chapter 13. Henry IV a king of II parts.

A True History of The Isles Vol II Chapter 8 – The End of the 14th Century and Richard II (well also his beginning too)

 

 

 

 

 

No Whining Wednesday – Don’t Drown Your Own Voice

Now here are some words which are certainly valuable reading.

The PBS Blog

Welcome back to another No Whining Wednesday! If this is your first time visiting this blog or if you are new to this segment, please visit the original No Whining Wednesday post HEREto learn more OR the No Whining Wednesday Pageto access all previous episodes.

The No Whining Wednesday Badge

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Those who screw up and keep going have failed so many times that they are equipped to handle disappointment and therefore have the maturity and resilience to get back up and try again. You got this.”

– Yecheilyah

This was an inspirational word I posted to my social media early this week. I love quotes, inspirational, motivational and overall uplifting. There is something about the power of a positive word that can make you feel like you can conquer the world. When someone compliments you or gives you that good advice, something…

View original post 350 more words

New Page for Introduce Yourself Author Feature + How Guest Posting Can Help You Win

Yecheilyah has some of the best ideas for helping writers.

The PBS Blog

As we approach the end of the year, I am doing what I always do at this time. Revisit my pages, update them, move some things around and maybe change my theme. In doing so, I’ve compiled all the Introduce Yourself Interviews and stored them away on their own page. You can now easily access the author’s interview using the Introduce Yourself Author Interview page. If you are one of the featured authors, you can also easily access your feature if you need to copy and paste your link or share it.

As a reminder, I am still looking for authors interested in being interviewed by me on this page. When I took that extensive break the feature slowed down but I am now ready to start scheduling again. AND if I missed you, please resend your information to my email HERE.

Interviews are published every Monday (being it’s…

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The al-Rawda mosque in the town of Bir al-Abed

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-42110223

Possibly 235 dead.

Possibly 100 injured.

All for praying a different way.

Victims shot down fleeing.

Ambulances fired on.

The feeling called Anger doesn’t even come close to describing just what I am experiencing now.

In a while Compassion for the dead, dying, wounded, survivors and their families will replace the furnace-fire.

If you are not careful Evil can seep in at every opportunity.

Compassion. Weep and cleanse your soul.

 

Mogadishu, Syria, New York………..

A True History of The Isles Vol II Chapter 14 – Henry V A Good Play but a Questionable king?

Overview and Introduction 

Born 9th August 1386 son of Henry (to be a IV), grandson of John (Gaunt) and great-grandson of Edward (The III and ‘Who Can I Invade next?’). Although a sort of cousin of Richard II, because Richard didn’t trust anyone Henry was once removed but once Henry’s father (Henry of the broken bollens) was exiled and Henry (the son) was only a boy and not in line to the throne Richard (the II), treated him kindly. He was indulged by being allowed try his hand at intimidating the Irish, being but a lad it didn’t work. He gained more experience when his father was king and he spent time fighting the Welsh until 1408, when because of his father’s various interesting ailments he was obliged to take part in government and argue with his father.

Eventually he became king 9th April 1413 when it snowed a lot which may or may not have had any relevance

Controversy over his Youth and Also Some Rebellions   

Some folk said Henry (now The V) had led a riotous and dissolute youth in common company. This would have been difficult when he was fighting the Welsh, then being in government and arguing with his father. This was probably a rumour spread about by folk because of his friendship with Sir John known for his Odd Castle, probably having a counterfeit flag and being a Bollard, whose beliefs asserted that the hierarchy of the Catholic Church were useless. In those days this notion was heretical.

Sir John’s Rebellion of 1414

Despite this Henry (V), was very fond of John (Sir) and it was only when Sir John organised a rebellion in 1414 which was to take place on the 12th night of Christmas when people would be so full of food and drink they would be mumbling and so Henry and his brothers would be easy to capture. Sir John would then proclaim himself in charge while everyone found Edmund Mortimer.  Most of Sir John’s supporters had assembled at St. Giles’ field, since he wasn’t using it. Others foolishly gathered at an inn at Smithfield, thus rather scattered and somewhat merrie they were scattered even more since Henry had found out about the plot arrived with his own army. Most rebels were massacred, beheaded etc, but Sir John fled and when he tried to organise another rebellion in Southampton Henry felt the friendship might be lacking something.

Sir John and Some Others’ Rebellion of 1415

Rather than planning slaughter lots of Churchmen and hide Henry, this plot was to properly slaughter Henry and, since he had been found put Edmund Mortimer on the throne whether he wanted it or not. Because Richard II had said Edmund should be king. As a Lord Scrope was involved Henry’s suspicions were raised (see previous Chapter Scrope- a bishop). Everyone was arrested and executed before they got a chance to say anything noble. Sir John fled once more but was captured in Wales in 1417, hung, burnt and thus reckoned to no longer be a threat. Edmund Mortimer was quite relieved.

Domestic Policy 

Because of an excess of rebellions in the reign of his father and now his own, Henry (The V) was very severe and stern, but in a fayre way. He said everyone who did not rebel was welcome to help him as long as they realised that at the end of the day he was The King. Everyone still surviving got the message.

The Return of The Hundred Years War

Henry’s Claim to The French Crown

Although Henry (the V) carried on with his father (Henry IV)’s policy of speaking English officially, this did not stop him from saying he should be King of France. He based his claim on the following legal points:

The Kings of England had ancestors who were related to French Kings and now the French royal line were beginning to run out of sons, so much so one was Posthumous and for a while France had to be ruled by the whoever was the tallest noble in the realm. Although this crisis had passed the current King of France, Charles VI said he was made of glass and claimed his son was a dolphin. Henry V being serious thought it therefore his solemn duty to take over.

A subsidiary point was The French were supporting Owain Glyndwr in his rebellions and The Scots in their invasions. As the King of England was the most important king of the Isles (Or so claimed by kings of England) it was also his solemn duty to invade France to stop this.

Henry thus wrote a very long letter to the French explaining this. Someone in the French Court who was generally legible told him he couldn’t be king because his ancestors were women and only men were allowed to be ancestors of french kings. One of Henry’s lawyers (naturally a bishop) pointed out the French were using Gallic law, which didn’t really count as it had been invented in a part of France which had been German for a very long time now. And in addition it was pointed out (quite forcefully) to the French that it was a stupid law as everyone had to have male and female ancestor. Henry naturally wrote back and told the French this.

Probably because Henry was now using English in all his correspondence and this was a very complex matter, something went very wrong in translation and the French sent him a box of tennis balls as a reply. By now Henry was so extremely serious (and stern) he decided the only recourse was to invade France.

The Invasion. Harfleur and Agincourt

In August 1415 Henry and a large fleet arrived at the friendly French port of  Have a Flower, but sadly for the citizens Henry was still being stern (and serious) and after besieging it for a while he adopted the tactic of having his army pretend they were all tigers, thus frightening the inhabitants into surrendering. The English then bravely caught all sorts of diseases, so they would be outnumbered by any French army. In the meantime they slaughtered, ravaged and were generally unpleasant. Henry hung a few men but only when they invaded churches. Eventually a large French Army found the small English army at Agincourt on 25th October. Henry cleverly made his army stand still behind a very muddy field, then roused their spirits by telling them that because it was St Crispin’s Day everyone could say Henry was their brother. He then scorned English gentlemen at home saying they were doing naught but holding their manhoods in bed; this sort of comment much humoured the soldiers . Thus, rallied and inspired the English bravely slaughtered the heavily armoured French cavalry who were being very chivalrous by moving slowly through the muddy field.

As a result, the French surrendered and told Charles VI’s daughter Catherine she would have to marry Henry. Because her father had invented a hobby of running around his castles, her mother Isabeau (of Bavaria) was trying her hand at ruling France and the nobles arguing so much they would cram into separate houses to avoid each other, Catherine understandably agreed.

There was much celebration in England.

Political Ramifications

Everyone was so in awe of Henry that the Holy Roman Emperor Sigismund said he didn’t think the French having a french King was a good idea and Henry should be in charge. Also, religion was very chaotic as there were three popes; they were so scared by Henry that they agreed there should only be one of them and they resolved to stay in Rome. To celebrate this accomplishment the English gallantly sunk a Genoese fleet which was trying to seize Have a Flower, and then made life miserable for lots of French people who had no opinion on things one way or the other.    

Henry’s Continued Campaigns

After a brief honeymoon, Henry between 1417 & 1420 invaded the parts of France he previously missed and so was not sure if they had surrendered. There are no records of noble speeches;, at this stage he appears to have concentrated on killing people irrespective of station in life and seizing their towns. He must have returned to England at some stage because his son was born Henry (to be VI) was born on 6th December 1421. At this time he was in France retrieving lands lost by his brother Thomas. Thomas had been feeling somewhat low having found out that although he was a duke he was only allowed to rule men who were called Clarence; he’d died as a result of victorious Frenchmen at Bauge in 1421. In consequence Henry rode this way and that in a very stern (and of course serious) manner slaughtering folk and besieging places. Not paying proper attention he did not washing his hands properly and died on 31st August 1422.

Conclusion

Although famous for Agincourt and generally defeating French armies, Henry did not become King of France, was rotten to ordinary French folk and to be honest did not die in a very exceptional manner, thus if it were not for having a play by Shakespeare he might not have been considered a famous king.

And dying so early he left things in England in a questionable state.

A True History of The Isles Vol. II Chapter 13. Henry IV a king of II parts.

The Butterfly is Supposed to Struggle

This is wonderful imagery folks, you just read and hold close to your hearts and inspiration

The PBS Blog

2017-11-19 13.46.01

Maya Angelou said, “We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” No one likes to struggle because the pain, of any kind, does not feel good. In fact, many of us probably spend our entire lives seeking to struggle less. To reduce the chances of pain and heartache in our lives, of embarrassment and of shame.

The only problem with this is that the butterfly is supposed to struggle. It is how it achieves its beauty in the first place. The butterfly’s struggle to push its way through the tiny opening of the cocoon pushes the fluid out of its body and into its wings. Without this struggle, the butterfly will never, ever fly.

To my beautiful butterflies out there, don’t try to circumvent the struggle, don’t bypass the pain or override the alarm. Let what needs…

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A True History of The Isles Vol. II Chapter 13. Henry IV a king of II parts.

Introduction and overview.

Although Henry IV is famous for deposing Richard II, not much else happened apart from folk who said Henry IV should not be king.

One of the good things about Henry (The IV) was because his reign was so busy and turbulent he thoughtfully divided himself into Parts I (1399 to defeat of rebels at Shrewsbury 1403) & II (the rest to 14the March 1413) thus making the task easier for historians.

As it will be recalled from Chap 8 Richard (the II) Henry (to be the IV) became king because;

Richard had killed off some of Henry’s relatives

Richard had had Henry’s bollins broke

Richard had exiled Henry.

Richard was doing similar things to lots of other nobles.

Because Henry was sturdy, handsome, good at jousting, not had the chance to do mean things to nobles they thought he would be a better king than Richard, who Henry eventually captured and imprisoned. At this stage it is not sure whether Henry had Richard starve or Richard being just plain awkward didn’t eat anything, anyway he died horribly, but because Henry was sturdy, handsome etc most folk let him get away with it.

During this turbulent time, he let himself be convinced he would be a Good King.

To make sure everyone did not confuse Henry with any previous Henry, he said he was from a house in Lancaster which had belonged to his mother Blanche and also he was the first King of England to not properly understand French and so would be a Good English King.

This might have been a promising start but several folk, who had either done well for themselves in Richard’s reign or didn’t like Henry as a IV were wont to plot and scheme.

Henry a Part I- A Successful  Succession and A Coronation (and Some Plots)  

Henry and his new friends said his claim to the throne was right because his father was John Gaunt. Although John (Gaunt) was but the 4th son of Edward III, all the others had died off, and only Edward (oldest and of black armour, who died of campaigns and not washing hands) had had a son Richard II (fancy clothes, washed his hands, died of Henry IV), but Richard didn’t have a son, only a behest which was not the same thing.

Henry now quite the IV went to be coronated, but because he had lice the crown kept falling off, since Henry had an army the clergy decided to overlook The Lice. This only served to cause discontent and rebellions, as listed below

The Epiphany Rebellion (1399) Some of those lords who’d done quite well out of Richard II and might not have had lice, planned to slaughter Henry at a joust, and free Richard (who was still alive and thus II). Henry didn’t turn up. They fled west, were not much supported and were beheaded both officially and unofficially. Richard II died.

Owain Glyndwr-A Welsh Rebellion- This started out in the usual way with an argument over land. Owain defeated his English neighbour and one thing led to another. He decided the welsh declines of the previous century should be stopped and learning that lots of English didn’t like Henry for being a IV turned this into a proper rebellion. The revolt was so successful and Owain so inspirational a leader even folk from South Wales joined him, thus forcing Henry IV Part II to take part. In 1405 the French thought he was a safe bet, but didn’t do anything much. Unfortunately, the English started being unfair by not fighting but blockading, as there were more English than Welsh this resulted in large well-fed (and fattish) armies defeating small and hungry gallant armies. Although Wales was finally defeated Owain slipped away, vanished and thus became a legend. As some of his supporters who were from the Tudor family History had not however seen the last of The Welsh….

Scots Wars (1400 – 14something or other)

Although Richard II had tried to be sort of reasonable with Scotland, Henry IV was not inclined upon this and adopted  New king, New rules policy thus both started raiding each other. English won at Homildon Hill in 1402, but both sides kept on invading each other some for some. The English captured a scots king James I but Henry IV wouldn’t give him back. Whether James caught lice has not be recorded.

The Rebellious Percys

The Percy family owned a lot of the north, the rest being owned by The Nevilles, when they weren’t fighting each other, they fought those Scots who weren’t fighting each other. One Percy also called Henry felt Henry IV owed him gold or land for helping defeat some Scots, Henry IV felt Henry Percy should have fought for him as King. Henry (The Percy) got quite angry and hot about his spurs and since Owain (in Wales) was rebelling thought it a good time to join in. Some Percys and of course some of those (surviving) nobles who had done well out of Richard II, got as far as Shrewsbury where they were defeated in 1403. This was a confusing battle as both leaders were called Henry and both were thought to be killed. Henry IV had more men and so won. Many rebel leaders were killed in battle, others captured and beheaded or fled to Scotland (with or without lice). Henry IV at this stage decided to solidify his rule by being Part 2.

Henry Now a Part 2 (more rebellions and health issues)

Henry apart from the lice continued to have other problems, such as

Richard Scrope

who was a Percy and a Bishop thought Henry IV was not a good king, and helped a few lords who had managed to survive to rebel in 1405. Although they assembled an army Henry (IV) tricked them into thinking he would forget the whole thing. He then captured and beheaded them, including Scrope (it was a rule of the 15th Century that any king who captured a Scrope could to have him beheaded). As bishops were not supposed to be executed, only exiled or imprisoned Henry was excommunicated by a pope, but another pope said due to a printing error it didn’t count and unexcommunicated Henry (and his lice) in 1407.

In 1408 Henry Percy’s father,

also Henry who was Earl of Northumberland who had previously fled came back and confusingly invaded his own land of Northumberland, though since he had scots allies it probably counted. He marched as far as Bramham in Yorkshire however unlike his son he was not nobly confronted by Henry (IV) but by local men led by a sheriff (and no doubt some lice), as he was armed with Scotsmen who were used to be gallantly slaughtered by English archers, he lost and died in battle.

Health

Probably because of having to put down rebellions (and lice) Henry (still a IV) accumulated lots of diseases which would be of interest to medicine in this era, but wasn’t much fun for him. What made things worse was lots of sanctimonious clergy were saying it was because he had beheaded a bishop. He spent his declining years arguing with his son Henry (eventually to be a V) and dying.

In March 1413 he said he was going on a crusade to Jerusalem and having made a pious statement promptly died, leaving no room for a Part 3.

Although there were other folk who reckoned they could be king, no one was going to argue with Henry IV’s son Henry V.

A True History of The Isles Vol II Chapter 8 – The End of the 14th Century and Richard II (well also his beginning too)

My Bananas Are Brown Already???

Be fair folks. Wouldn’t you just love to try any of these stunts. Jerry’s blog is packing lots of humour of this style. Worth a visit (or a dozen or so)

Jerry Mabbott's Blog

I love bananas, except when they begin to get spots on them, which happens at a very rapid pace. Once they’re spotted, they turn brown and are gross. Come to think about it, I hate bananas.

Beside being of an odd shape, which can be kind of fun, they hold great nutritional value. Bananas are very high in potassium, which is an important element for the human body. I don’t know why and, frankly, I don’t care. Why? Because there are so many fun things to do with bananas.

You can walk at the mall, down a crowded sidewalk, any where there is a crowd, really, and pretend it’s a phone. To make it really funny, you have to be having a heated discussion with your make believe caller. Just be sure you’re nowhere near a police station or psych ward.

Another really fun thing to do is walk among…

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