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 10. Ireland- One Way of Being Independent In The Middle Ages.

 

Overview

The history of Ireland had been much affected by the circumstance in which they managed to fit one hundred and fifty kingdoms into such small place. What with a king, his family, his nobles and their families it must have been difficult at times to find enough servants and subjects to make the whole business worthwhile. However, the sheer number does suggest there must have been a certain level of equal opportunity around.

Vikings

All might have worked out reasonably well with everyone squabbling and marrying each other until there would have been just one sprawling royal family. This domestic process was interrupted however as were most things in those times by the arrival of the Vikings. As it was discussed in the previous volume this caused another layer of quarrelsomeness, marrying etc, until the Vikings were finally officially removed around about 1000 or 1100 if one is picky about who was Viking and who was not.

Normans

Matters were not allowed to settle down because of events which had taken place in England. The events being The Normans who were Vikings who had decided they preferred to be sort of French(ish) and in consequence were so successful at it they invaded England (and Scilly, which doesn’t come into this narrative, much). The England Venture proved to be another efficacious decision, and it is not surprising that sundered Normans or descendants of Normans having conquered everything English looked about a bit and noticed Ireland. At the same The Irish noticed them and some Irish invited some Normans over to help them (the Irish that is) fight other Irish. (The Celtic Mistake- See Previous Chapter)

This was a rather messy business for not only did Normans turn up, but so did Cambro-Normans (Normans who been so long in Wales they could appreciate the artistic). To make things even more confusing some Normans liked Ireland so much they became Hiberno-Normans and were renowned for being so Irish that other Normans attacked them out of preference

Who Ruled What and How

The Plantagenet Idea

Henry (The I) of England thought since he was there he could try and say Ireland was his and so have a place to send restless nobles and sons to as there was always someone to fight over something. This may (or may not) have been supported by Pope Adrian VI in 1155 because the Irish Church was going about the place appointing its own bishop without asking Rome Henry therefore appointed a Lord Lieutenant who was to tell the Irish what the king wanted them to do, or so he thought.

The Irish Reality

Whereas there was a Lord Lieutenant there were also Irish, Norman, Cambro-Norman and of course Hiberno-Norman lords as well as Irish Chiefs and Chieftains and fellows who insisted they were kings. If this was not confusing enough early on there was still The High King who claimed everyone should kneel to him and not someone across the sea. This was sorted out on 14th May 1260 when Brian mac Néill Ruaidh Ó Néill also known as Brian O’Neill by those of a lazy disposition was killed at the Battle of Durim Dearg by other Irish in the pay of various Normans who wisely stood about. He did get a lament for his troubles while his head was sent to Henry III who being pious was not sure what to do with it.

This did not solve the problem of everyone fighting everyone else nor that various Lords Lieutenants kept getting involved in the politics of who should be king of England or not and subsequently being replaced, in some cases due to losses of heads. The Normans (Cambro etc) didn’t help matters as they allowed poor folk to arrive who spoke welsh, english (sort of) or flemish and also confusing the cultural subject even more by calling the natives ‘Mere’ Irish which as far as the Normans (of all sorts) were concerned meant ‘Pure’, so what were the Natives complaining about? Not surprisingly nothing settled down and young irish lads often found employment as mercenaries.

Examples of the Business   

Kingdom of Connach had a very fractious ruling family who quarrelled amongst itself so much that quite exhausted it collapsed in 1230. This allowed a smaller bit named Ui Maine to be quite kingish and have the reasonably famous King Ruaidri Ó Cellaigh who ruled between 1332-1339. This sort of thing was going on all over Ireland.

The Normans Fail and Decline

The Normans of various shapes and sizes became so inept at ruling that they either became Irish (See Hiberno-Normans) or hid in Dublin where they fell into superstitious ways and believed they were protected by a Great Snail which kept all the Irish away and beyond it. It was only when The Church got involved and explained through theology that it was God who protecting every Norman and scaring the Irish off so much they became quite Beyond The Pale that this myth was dispelled.

The Scots Get Involved

Robert and various other Bruces in the endeavour to make Scotland independent invaded Ireland in 1315. Robert who was obliged to stay in Scotland defending it from The English and other scots who didn’t agree with him left the Irish Question with his brother Edward. Edward tried to rally the Irish lords, kings, chiefs etc by claiming he was now the High King. This upset many folk, so in his conceit he started the Irish Bruce Wars; which finished in 1318 when he was killed by either some Irish or Hiberno-Normans or both on 14th October at Faughart. Anyway, apparently there were a lot of them and they chopped his body into little bits so every town could see a piece. This was a silly scheme as naturally being king Edward (The II) got the head so no one could really tell if the other bits were genuine or not and understandably probably didn’t want to see them anyway.

The Kings of England and How What They Did With (or About) Ireland (if Anything)

In general, the various kings between Henry III & Richard The II (as advertised by Shakespeare) irrespective of whatever else they did or didn’t do had a patchy record when it came to Ireland as will be shown below:

Henry III – He received money from Ireland and a head (see Brian mac Néill Ruaidh Ó Néill). Both events allowed him to give lands to the barons who didn’t know what to do with it, so he gave everything Irish to his son Edward. Being young and faced with all that squabbling he didn’t know where to start, so made an early career of rescuing his father. Thus, everyone in Ireland carried on as before.

Edward I– Being a basically rational fellow Edward concentrated on slaughtering those scots and welsh who didn’t agree with him. This was a sensible move as they were on his borders. He then tried his hands at crusading which was fashionable at the time. He then slaughtered some more scots. He left the running of Ireland to various nobles, as he was an imposing man of fiery temper no one dared tell him they couldn’t keep the blessed place under control.

Edward II– He wanted to put his BFF Gaveston in charge, but the Barons said Gavetson couldn’t because of Parliament and their own personal armies, in fact Gaveston was not allowed to be in Ireland (or England or anywhere). The Barons to show Edward they meant well gave him the head of Edward (Bruce). Edward(II) was never too sure about things after that.

Edward III– Had settled on being king of both England and France, thus spent so much of his time fighting the latter to have much to do with Ireland. One of his sons Lionel travelled over from Antwerp and tried to redress by balance and making an imposing statement by having statues erected in Kilkenny in 1366. There must have been a goodly number as on them were inscribed thirty-five things the Hiberno-Normans couldn’t do without the king giving permission. This gave a loophole for the Cambro-Normans and the native Irish to do as they pleased so the whole scheme came to naught.

Richard II- (as dramatised by Shakespeare). Sometime during his reign Richard went slightly mad and became a tyrant, on finding out that no one in Ireland was paying attention to this he sailed there (with an army) to impose his authority. Because so many people were not listening to him he was obliged to ride and march all over the place, but not achieving much in the process. In the meantime, a Henry who had been born in Lincoln but came from Lancaster by way of France said he had a better claim to the throne by right of blood, primogenitor, Not Salic Law and a large army with lots of nobles. It can be argued thus, because of Ireland, Richard the II (See Shakespeare) lost the crown of England.

Conclusion

Nothing much changed in Ireland during the 13th & 14th centuries and the kings of England didn’t have a lot of say.

 

 

A True History of The Isles Vol II Chapter 1 – Henry III (Part A. – The Major Minority)

Gallery

Knock-Knock … It’s Jolly Monday!!!

Jill writes a take-no-prisoners political blog while managing to combine some humorous and whimsical episodes out of Life. This is a fine example. Visit this site and start your weeks off with a smile.(and a chuckle or two)

Filosofa's Word

Welcome Friends!!!  I feel like it’s been more than a week since we had our last Jolly Monday … I’ve missed you all!  I hope you had a wonderful weekend, that everybody is well and happy, and ready to face a new week! I would like to pull a Rip van Winkle and sleep until about January, for the expensive time of year is coming up.  Daughter Chris’ birthday is the 26th, Miss Goose’s birthday is November 28th, and then, of course, there is Christmas.  I tried to convince the girls to have birthdays one year, and Christmas the next … y’know, just alternate and save a bundle.  Do you think they bought into that?  Noooooo… sigh.  Anyway, in the words of Scarlett O’Hara, “I won’t worry about that today, I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”  So for today, let us grab a cup of…

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Musings

Fire up folks, get those pens or keyboards working. This is very wise advice

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

During busy periods of my life, I’ve found that the first task of creativity is carving out time and resources so that I can work on a project.  Then it becomes:  do stuff and probably suck at it.  I may not get any better, but it’s the only way I give myself a chance at becoming something great.  And the alternative to NOT doing stuff is constantly inventing excuses which explain why I never took a chance. 

In my opinion, that’s a waste of creativity; I’d rather invent products than excuses.

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Marketing 101 – notes from the scary anthology, part 6: “Sharing Is Caring”

Here’s a very useful post

Dan Alatorre - AUTHOR

danI said I’d share a few marketing secrets with you as we created and released and sold and marketed – continue to market – our scary anthology. This is the next installment.

Part of networking

and helping others in a quick and easy what that ALSO helps you,

is to Like and share their posts when they talk about the book.

For example,

  1. Maribel shared a blog post and put it on Facebook.
  2. I then liked it and shared it on my Facebook page. I’d share it on my author page and maybe here, too.
  3. Then each of you can do that, all liking and sharing HER post. That gets more eyeballs on the story YOU wrote.

THEN

You go to the link in her blog post and Like it and maybe tweet the link. Maybe post it on StumbleUpon or Pinterest, but DEFINITELY make a comment of some sort.

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As a Writer, What Inspires You?

A very incisive and valuable post to read.

Author Don Massenzio

insp1

How many of you can relate to the sentiment in this graphic? Do you wake up every morning excited about writing? Is writing a natural part of your life?

If so, what inspires you to embrace this obsession? The purpose of this post is to attempt to determine the things that drive us to write and to not give up. Many of us our independent authors (I prefer this term over self-published). We outsource our publishing to platforms like Amazon, CreateSpace and others. We use cover designers and editors just as a traditional publisher would or perform these services on our own.

Why do we do this without a guarantee that anyone will read our work? Here are some of my reasons.

GoalWriting has been a lifelong goal Since my childhood I have been enthralled with books. I read everything I could get my hands on and wrote…

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Of Patchwork Warriors (The Ragged Jagged Book Launch)

Book Cover 9

I apologise that this will probably cause exasperation to those who have managed a successful and professional launch on more than one occasion. I regret the confusion or puzzlement experienced by readers who are new to me and my ways. There may come a time when I will sneak back and change the whole format then those who have purchased this through Kindle will have a ‘collector’s item’. However, for the present finally after much more post-narrative work than has ever taken place in my small part of Creation ‘Of Patchwork Warriors’ is finally onto Kindle and if Computers, Fates and Good Fortune keep the gremlins away should be available for sale in 3-4 days, at 0.99$ or 0.99£…and such low prices world-wide.

It’s my own cover too; with the assistance of www.addtext.com who were so easy to navigate. Now there are those naturally who will think or say ‘Yer whaaa?’ or ‘What the Ffffudge!’ or ‘Oh My God, what was he thinking?’ and such. Yeh, I know, I understand, but if you visited inside my head and watched my tendency after a while to say ‘Arrhhh! So what! Full steam ahead!!’ you would, maybe sigh and say ‘Oh well’

For any reader who is unfamiliar with my blog, this is a Fantasy Work; the 1st Volume of some epic of which I have no inkling where it will go. This is Adult; includes drama, fighting, intrigue, heroics, friendship, humour, villainous deeds, blood and gore (in small buckets), romance (and consequential episodes of an adult nature). And is also quite ‘lite’ in comparison with some of the volumes forged by the best in this genre. This is the ‘blurb’ which hopefully will appear on the Amazon page:

“There came an era when the threat of incursion from the infernal other world realm of the Zerstorung was strong, placing the survival of entire unsettled Oakhostian Empire at risk and thus disparate forces began to marshal, to take up any cause or seize any opportunity.

There in the background The Ethereal, The Stommigheid or The Astatheia just a few names for the force which had arrived upon The World in Ages faded from record. Viewed either as a pernicious creature seeking to control, a power for good, an aspect of Nature to be treated with caution or a means to an end, it remained a constant. With an oft forgotten tendency to engage with the unwilling, the unassuming and the unruly from the rank of lesser folk whose consequential and various struggles would unsettle many a careful plan.

This is the tale of three such, an innocent housemaid, a dutiful soldier and a self-appointed scourge of evil quite unaware the safety of an Empire would soon be resting on them.

They did not take uniformly or conventionally to the task, for that was the way of things, when involved with The Ethereal, The Stommigheid or The Astatheia.”

I wish to thank a lot of folk who in one form or another contributed to the sensible side of this project, but are in no way responsible for my more quirky actions and decisions, so should not be held accountable for any blame- that’s all mine. (Mine! I tell you! All Mine!!….high-pitched laughter): Anyway it could have been very peculiar but for:

In alphabetical order:

Audrey, Dan, Gwin, Jerry, Jill, Lennon, Lisa, Lucy, Rachael, Ron, Sha’Tara & Simon.

All that remains to be said is

I will now return to keeping up to date with other folks’ posts.

Return to the ‘History of These Isles Vol.II’.

Finally read that magazine on how to improve the appearance of my WordPress site.

And of course suffer the attendant horrors which follow self-publishing a book: Such as ‘Did I check everything? What happens if Kindle……? Should I have written ‘that part’ differently? Oh My God what have I done?’ ‘There will be errors I missed, I know there will be’ and other common ailments.

Thank goodness my contact with Reality is tenuous anyhows.

Book Covers Part II. If it was easy, where would the fun be?

A Leap In The Dark (Sort Of) ‘Of Patchwork Warriors’

Why I Write

This a wonderful post on one person’s love of writing.

Writing has always been a part of my life. From the moment I was born, I swear it felt like I had a pen in my hand. Truthfully speaking, though, that’s not what really happened. I’ve spoken about writing a lot on this blog, but I haven’t said much about myself. As the owner of a blog dedicated to writing, it seems only fair that I share with you all what motivated me to start what is now my lifelong passion.

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3 Reasons Why You Need to Finish Your Writing Project

These are good and sound words for every writer who suffers doubts.

Knowledge is Power

Have you ever wondered why starting a project can be so full of ideas, motivation, focus, and commitment, only to later on land into an overwhelming state of pressure, agonizing middle, and a completely dispirited end? This scenario occurs more often than not, and am moved to refer to it as the curse of the writer.

Stumbling blocks characterize almost all writing projects, so badly in some situations that they completely disorient what was once a comprehensive research, sleepless nights, sincere effort, and immense sacrifice, just to name a few. Ranging from lack of time, family issues, writers block, running out of ideas to fear of rejection, stumbling blocks can easily lead to an incomplete and stagnated end.

Every writer’s desire is to start writing a book or an article, and most importantly to finish it. Here are 3 reasons that should make you reconsider completing your project.

  1. You Owe…

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Slaughter of the Innocents

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Forgive me if this may not be an image relevant to your own faith or beliefs just see it as a response of a Christian who cannot find the right words to explain his feelings

Las Vegas

Marseille

Rohingya

Syria (highest death toll last week).

My brothers and sisters in this world of ours, these are some of our family members who have suffered and died.

Mourn, do not hate. Hate and the Evil is winning.