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Okay, this is the re-edited version of the edited version of my book!! I don't think it's any better, but I'm posting it here so I will be more motivated(hopefully) to write it more often.
I am also in the process of changing most of the names in my book, so some of them get a bit complicated(for instance, I'm changing 'Edrei' and Triscolia' back and forth because I can't decide which one to use!).
So here I go...again...
Edrei
Amid the chaos, one woman slipping up the wide stairwell went unnoticed. Gathering her skirts, she rushed up the ancient stairs, pausing outside of a roughly hewn doorway. She turned the knob quietly, and then entered the room. Padding across the cold stone floor, the woman approached a tiny cradle that had been lovingly carved out of a chunk of heartwood. The infant nestled inside cooed, kicking her tiny feet in sleepless protest. Shh, hush. Be still now, my little one. The woman reached her hand into the cradle, and the baby curled her tiny fingers over her mothers large ones. A single tear snaked down the womans face. I resolved not to cry! she whispered, wiping the tear away with vehement force. Her shoulders shaking with suppressed sorrow, she lifted the infant from the heartwood cradle. The baby yawned and burped, oblivious to the emotional struggle her mother was battling.
We have no time to lose. The woman said to the child, then bustled around the cold room. The fire had long since extinguished, for all the able-bodied servants had left to fight in the hopeless war. Wrapping the baby against the chill, she ran out into the corridor, slamming into a man dressed in chain mail. Sorry, Will. I have our child. She lifted the baby to his arms, and he cradled the infant, making baby noises. We may never see her again, love. You are sure you want to do this?
The woman lifted her chin with as much courage as she could muster. I know, Will. But at least we will save her from death! I want my only daughter to live and see a land of peace! Will gave the baby back to his wife. Cupping her head in his battle-calloused hands, he looked into her eyes, and wiped away another tear with his finger.
You are brave, Elli. I saw that from the day I met you. He smiled. Now come. If the child is to escape alive, the time is now. He led her down the stairs, then across a broad walkway high above the city. A gasp from Elli made him turn. The citadel is burning! Elli gasped, eyes wide. I did not think she trailed off, sorrow overburdening her, and abruptly continued across the walkway. Descending down another stairway, she ran onto the stone paved road, soon passing from Wills sight amid the panicked soldiers. She weaved her way through the armor clad men, who barely noticed her over their terror. A chill wind rustled Ellis hair, carrying on it the wails of the doomed and dying soldiers.
She reached a high wall, a lone standing sentinel that stood stonily in its watch of the untouched western valley. She searched the walls weathered exterior, her eyes scanning every smooth stone. Where is it? she murmured, shifting the child to her other arm. With no small amount of satisfaction, she finally spotted what she was looking for: the sign of the five-pronged star carved in an ancient black stone. Pressing the middle of the star, she stood back and watched as a portion of the wall slid away. Slipping in the small opening, Elli ran down the smooth steps that had been carved out of the side of the hill in some forgotten time long past. The sounds of her harried footsteps echoed eerily against the stone walls. Reaching the end, she again pressed another star, and the wall slid away. She ran out onto the golden plain, seeing her destination. Above her, the sun rose mockingly, almost teasing the mind into thinking it was a normal day in the battered city of Parnassian.
The golden wheat danced and swayed in the expansive field as Elli sprinted toward a caravan of wagons on the last safe road leading out of Parnassian.
The trading caravan had provided supplies for the unprovisioned army, but the wagon master had sensed that the Golden City would fall ere the day drew to a close, and had ordered the wagons to safety. After the caravan passed safely into the eastern regions, the route would be closed against the enemy. The wagons had halted for some unknown reason, and Elli breathed a prayer of gratitude as she reached the caravan. Slipping undetected behind the last wagon, she crept forward until she was standing next to it. She untied a piece of the canvas cover and slipped underneath it. Hugging her daughter to her chest for the last time, she set the little wrapped bundle down amidst jingling trinkets. The baby looked at her mother unconcernedly, but began to flail with panic as Elli turned away.
Hush, child. Elli crooned softly. May the Lord go with you, and surround you with His angels of protection. She ran her hand over the tiny bald head one last time, watching as the infant yawned and went to sleep. She managed to keep the tears from her eyes as she turned away, and refastened the canvas. A shout behind her of, Hey, you! Get away from there! spurred her into action. She sprinted across the field, away from her daughter forever. When she reached the wall, she turned. Farewell. Elli allowed her tears to flow freely now, as she watched the wagons start forward again on the path to safety. Goodbye, Katharine.
The caravan master leaned against the rough wooden seat and looked out over the backs of his two plodding mares. They had left the golden plains of Parnassian an hour ago; now the caravan was weaving its way through the sparsely wooded territory outside the trading village of Finulae. The wagon master would be glad to reach civilization and have a nice warm bed and actual food. The capital city Parnassian had little water and virtually no food and its citadels were swiftly burning. It was a shame to have the magnificent capital being defeated; it had provided one the caravans biggest profits. He remembered how magnificent the city had looked a short month ago, its banners flying high in salute to the celebration of the birth of the Kings daughter. A shout brought the master back to the present. Captain! Sir! A small, wiry man bounded over.
What is it, Nigel? the master turned to his assistant.
Sir! We found something in one of the wagons! Nigel saluted smartly.
The Captain raised a brow. And what would that something be, Nigel?
Um, well, sir, the small man shifted his weight nervously. We found a a baby. It was in the last wagon, wrapped in a blanket.
A baby! In one of my wagons! Bring it to me! the master bellowed, fury turning his ears red. Nigel saluted again and sprinted off to obey the order.
The master sat back, wondering how in tarnation a little brat could have ended up on his caravan.
Here she is, sir! Nigel returned, huffing, with a little wrapped bundle in his arms. He plopped the infant in the Captains lap. The baby screwed her face up in a resounding wail and began to flail her arms. The master looked at her with obvious disgust.
Get rid of it. The Captain quickly handed the baby back.
Nigel widened his eyes. Sir?
Drop it off at Finulae. Ill not have a baby tagging along on my trading caravan.
Nigel nodded quickly. Yes, Captain. The assistant turned and disappeared among the dust that the caravan kicked up. The caravan master settled back in his seat, satisfied that the infant was taken care of. He unsheathed his knife and began to clean it while he returned to his former thoughts. Yes, he decided, it was too bad about Parnassian ending up in the hands of the Abadonians.
The aromatic smell that rose from the bakerys kitchen went unnoticed by Maggie, who was up to her elbows in dirty laundry. When she had given birth to three boys, she hadnt expected they would dirty their clothes so quickly! Finally, the aromatic smell changed to the acrid odor of burning bread. Oh, no! The bread! Maggie stood, dried her hands on the apron that covered her matronly body, and sprinted for the kitchen.
Shooing Peter, her three year old boy, from the room, Maggie quickly retrieved the bread from the fireplace. It no longer had the appearance of bread, but the loaf looked rather like a charred, black rock. Im sure the Official wont appreciate serving his guests a burnt lump! Maggie groaned, quickly bustling around the small, but homely, kitchen to start another loaf of bread. She could hear her boys screeching in the garden out back, filled with excitement because of the approaching trading caravan. Shaking her head, she kneaded the dough, and then braided it.
Mum, Mum! The caravan is here! And it brings news of the fall of Parnassian! David, her six-year-old old burst, into the room, excitement glowing on his freckled face.
The fall of the capital?! Maggie widened her eyes, trying not to show her fear to her beaming son.
She covered the dough with a towel, and then grabbed her shawl to fend off the chill morning air. She followed David outside, looking around anxiously for Charles, her husband. The wagons had stopped in the middle of the village greenbelt, and now the traders were hawking what wares they had left from supplying Parnassian.
While the children of Finulae were excited about the fall of Parnassian- it gave then something to talk about- the adults were nervous and fidgety. What if the Abadonians broke through and captured Finulae? Maggie kept her eyes peeled to the horizon, half-expecting to see the enemys army. She pulled aside a young man. Nate, where is Charles?
Nate pointed to the small armory that held the villages few weapons.
Hes in there. The Official is holding a council.
Maggie thanked the boy and trudged through the muddy grass of the village green to the small thatched hut. Once inside the small armory, she found the men shouting at each other. She called, Charles! over the din, and her broad husband weaved his way through the crowd toward her. He took her by her arm and led her away from the chaos. Charles, what in Edrei is going on? The Abadonians have taken Parnassian? What are we going to do?
Maggie burst out, an anxious expression on her taut face.
Calm down, Maggie. The capital city has not fallen yet. The remaining soldiers under the command of General Edward deFransico are holding strong for now. There is a gleam of hope for Parnassian, at least for this hour. Charles smiled reassuringly, sounding more confident than he felt.
Maggie bit her lip. But what if the enemy breaks through the citadel and comes here?
That is why I must go to Parnassian, to lend my sword to the battle.
Charles! What if what if Maggie trailed off, horrified with the thought of her husband battling the fierce Abadonians.
Ill be fine, dear, and Ill be home before you know it! Charles asserted, hoping he was right. Besides, wont this be a grand story to tell our grandchildren?!
Maggie rolled her eyes, a small smile spreading over her lips. Just take care of yourself, okay? And dont do anything rash.
Charles nodded, pecked her on the cheek and then disappeared back into the armory.
Maggie couldnt keep the awful feeling of worry and fear from welling up in the pit of her stomach. To get her mind off the once far-off war that now choked their lives, she hurried to the village greenbelt to see what wares the caravan had brought.
Later, after haggling over a length of blue cloth, she paid a few coins to an old wrinkled trader and turned away. A tug on her dress halted her movement.
Maggie looked over her shoulder impatiently, expecting to see the old trader demanding more money. Instead a small, wiry man stood there, clutching a small wrapped bundle.
No, thank you, sir, I am not interested in buying more goods. Maggie said firmly and began to walk away.
No, no, wait, maam! the man caught up to her quickly. This is no ordinary trading good! Maggie turned, frustrated now. Well, what is it?
The man cautiously turned the bundle over, revealing a pink-cheeked infant.
A BABY! Maggie breathed, quickly taking the infant from the mans unskilled hands. Where did you find her? she asked, eyeing the man suspiciously.
Well, that is just the problem, maam. She was found on one of the wagons. The only possible clue we have of her identity is this. The man reached forward and pulled on one side of the blanket the baby was wrapped in. Maggie could see an emblem of a five-pronged star embroidered on the soft fabric. What is that? she murmured softly, fingering the cloth. Peering closer, beneath the emblem, she spotted a tiny word sewn onto the cloth: Katharine.
I guess thats her name. Maggie smiled gently down at the infant. When she looked up again the man was gone. What where did he go? she looked around anxiously. That that mongrel! Leaving me here with a baby! Suddenly the truth dawned on her. She eyed the peacefully sleeping child. Well, I guess Abba willed you to be mine, eh? Now you will be stuck with me as your mother your whole life.
The infant yawned and clenched her tiny fists, then peacefully snuggled closer to Maggie and fell asleep.
What will Charles think of this, eh, little one? Hell be mighty surprised when he comes home to a new daughter. With that she smiled at the sleeping Katharine and then marched purposefully back to the bakery.
*************
I am also in the process of changing most of the names in my book, so some of them get a bit complicated(for instance, I'm changing 'Edrei' and Triscolia' back and forth because I can't decide which one to use!).
So here I go...again...
Edrei
Amid the chaos, one woman slipping up the wide stairwell went unnoticed. Gathering her skirts, she rushed up the ancient stairs, pausing outside of a roughly hewn doorway. She turned the knob quietly, and then entered the room. Padding across the cold stone floor, the woman approached a tiny cradle that had been lovingly carved out of a chunk of heartwood. The infant nestled inside cooed, kicking her tiny feet in sleepless protest. Shh, hush. Be still now, my little one. The woman reached her hand into the cradle, and the baby curled her tiny fingers over her mothers large ones. A single tear snaked down the womans face. I resolved not to cry! she whispered, wiping the tear away with vehement force. Her shoulders shaking with suppressed sorrow, she lifted the infant from the heartwood cradle. The baby yawned and burped, oblivious to the emotional struggle her mother was battling.
We have no time to lose. The woman said to the child, then bustled around the cold room. The fire had long since extinguished, for all the able-bodied servants had left to fight in the hopeless war. Wrapping the baby against the chill, she ran out into the corridor, slamming into a man dressed in chain mail. Sorry, Will. I have our child. She lifted the baby to his arms, and he cradled the infant, making baby noises. We may never see her again, love. You are sure you want to do this?
The woman lifted her chin with as much courage as she could muster. I know, Will. But at least we will save her from death! I want my only daughter to live and see a land of peace! Will gave the baby back to his wife. Cupping her head in his battle-calloused hands, he looked into her eyes, and wiped away another tear with his finger.
You are brave, Elli. I saw that from the day I met you. He smiled. Now come. If the child is to escape alive, the time is now. He led her down the stairs, then across a broad walkway high above the city. A gasp from Elli made him turn. The citadel is burning! Elli gasped, eyes wide. I did not think she trailed off, sorrow overburdening her, and abruptly continued across the walkway. Descending down another stairway, she ran onto the stone paved road, soon passing from Wills sight amid the panicked soldiers. She weaved her way through the armor clad men, who barely noticed her over their terror. A chill wind rustled Ellis hair, carrying on it the wails of the doomed and dying soldiers.
She reached a high wall, a lone standing sentinel that stood stonily in its watch of the untouched western valley. She searched the walls weathered exterior, her eyes scanning every smooth stone. Where is it? she murmured, shifting the child to her other arm. With no small amount of satisfaction, she finally spotted what she was looking for: the sign of the five-pronged star carved in an ancient black stone. Pressing the middle of the star, she stood back and watched as a portion of the wall slid away. Slipping in the small opening, Elli ran down the smooth steps that had been carved out of the side of the hill in some forgotten time long past. The sounds of her harried footsteps echoed eerily against the stone walls. Reaching the end, she again pressed another star, and the wall slid away. She ran out onto the golden plain, seeing her destination. Above her, the sun rose mockingly, almost teasing the mind into thinking it was a normal day in the battered city of Parnassian.
The golden wheat danced and swayed in the expansive field as Elli sprinted toward a caravan of wagons on the last safe road leading out of Parnassian.
The trading caravan had provided supplies for the unprovisioned army, but the wagon master had sensed that the Golden City would fall ere the day drew to a close, and had ordered the wagons to safety. After the caravan passed safely into the eastern regions, the route would be closed against the enemy. The wagons had halted for some unknown reason, and Elli breathed a prayer of gratitude as she reached the caravan. Slipping undetected behind the last wagon, she crept forward until she was standing next to it. She untied a piece of the canvas cover and slipped underneath it. Hugging her daughter to her chest for the last time, she set the little wrapped bundle down amidst jingling trinkets. The baby looked at her mother unconcernedly, but began to flail with panic as Elli turned away.
Hush, child. Elli crooned softly. May the Lord go with you, and surround you with His angels of protection. She ran her hand over the tiny bald head one last time, watching as the infant yawned and went to sleep. She managed to keep the tears from her eyes as she turned away, and refastened the canvas. A shout behind her of, Hey, you! Get away from there! spurred her into action. She sprinted across the field, away from her daughter forever. When she reached the wall, she turned. Farewell. Elli allowed her tears to flow freely now, as she watched the wagons start forward again on the path to safety. Goodbye, Katharine.
The caravan master leaned against the rough wooden seat and looked out over the backs of his two plodding mares. They had left the golden plains of Parnassian an hour ago; now the caravan was weaving its way through the sparsely wooded territory outside the trading village of Finulae. The wagon master would be glad to reach civilization and have a nice warm bed and actual food. The capital city Parnassian had little water and virtually no food and its citadels were swiftly burning. It was a shame to have the magnificent capital being defeated; it had provided one the caravans biggest profits. He remembered how magnificent the city had looked a short month ago, its banners flying high in salute to the celebration of the birth of the Kings daughter. A shout brought the master back to the present. Captain! Sir! A small, wiry man bounded over.
What is it, Nigel? the master turned to his assistant.
Sir! We found something in one of the wagons! Nigel saluted smartly.
The Captain raised a brow. And what would that something be, Nigel?
Um, well, sir, the small man shifted his weight nervously. We found a a baby. It was in the last wagon, wrapped in a blanket.
A baby! In one of my wagons! Bring it to me! the master bellowed, fury turning his ears red. Nigel saluted again and sprinted off to obey the order.
The master sat back, wondering how in tarnation a little brat could have ended up on his caravan.
Here she is, sir! Nigel returned, huffing, with a little wrapped bundle in his arms. He plopped the infant in the Captains lap. The baby screwed her face up in a resounding wail and began to flail her arms. The master looked at her with obvious disgust.
Get rid of it. The Captain quickly handed the baby back.
Nigel widened his eyes. Sir?
Drop it off at Finulae. Ill not have a baby tagging along on my trading caravan.
Nigel nodded quickly. Yes, Captain. The assistant turned and disappeared among the dust that the caravan kicked up. The caravan master settled back in his seat, satisfied that the infant was taken care of. He unsheathed his knife and began to clean it while he returned to his former thoughts. Yes, he decided, it was too bad about Parnassian ending up in the hands of the Abadonians.
The aromatic smell that rose from the bakerys kitchen went unnoticed by Maggie, who was up to her elbows in dirty laundry. When she had given birth to three boys, she hadnt expected they would dirty their clothes so quickly! Finally, the aromatic smell changed to the acrid odor of burning bread. Oh, no! The bread! Maggie stood, dried her hands on the apron that covered her matronly body, and sprinted for the kitchen.
Shooing Peter, her three year old boy, from the room, Maggie quickly retrieved the bread from the fireplace. It no longer had the appearance of bread, but the loaf looked rather like a charred, black rock. Im sure the Official wont appreciate serving his guests a burnt lump! Maggie groaned, quickly bustling around the small, but homely, kitchen to start another loaf of bread. She could hear her boys screeching in the garden out back, filled with excitement because of the approaching trading caravan. Shaking her head, she kneaded the dough, and then braided it.
Mum, Mum! The caravan is here! And it brings news of the fall of Parnassian! David, her six-year-old old burst, into the room, excitement glowing on his freckled face.
The fall of the capital?! Maggie widened her eyes, trying not to show her fear to her beaming son.
She covered the dough with a towel, and then grabbed her shawl to fend off the chill morning air. She followed David outside, looking around anxiously for Charles, her husband. The wagons had stopped in the middle of the village greenbelt, and now the traders were hawking what wares they had left from supplying Parnassian.
While the children of Finulae were excited about the fall of Parnassian- it gave then something to talk about- the adults were nervous and fidgety. What if the Abadonians broke through and captured Finulae? Maggie kept her eyes peeled to the horizon, half-expecting to see the enemys army. She pulled aside a young man. Nate, where is Charles?
Nate pointed to the small armory that held the villages few weapons.
Hes in there. The Official is holding a council.
Maggie thanked the boy and trudged through the muddy grass of the village green to the small thatched hut. Once inside the small armory, she found the men shouting at each other. She called, Charles! over the din, and her broad husband weaved his way through the crowd toward her. He took her by her arm and led her away from the chaos. Charles, what in Edrei is going on? The Abadonians have taken Parnassian? What are we going to do?
Maggie burst out, an anxious expression on her taut face.
Calm down, Maggie. The capital city has not fallen yet. The remaining soldiers under the command of General Edward deFransico are holding strong for now. There is a gleam of hope for Parnassian, at least for this hour. Charles smiled reassuringly, sounding more confident than he felt.
Maggie bit her lip. But what if the enemy breaks through the citadel and comes here?
That is why I must go to Parnassian, to lend my sword to the battle.
Charles! What if what if Maggie trailed off, horrified with the thought of her husband battling the fierce Abadonians.
Ill be fine, dear, and Ill be home before you know it! Charles asserted, hoping he was right. Besides, wont this be a grand story to tell our grandchildren?!
Maggie rolled her eyes, a small smile spreading over her lips. Just take care of yourself, okay? And dont do anything rash.
Charles nodded, pecked her on the cheek and then disappeared back into the armory.
Maggie couldnt keep the awful feeling of worry and fear from welling up in the pit of her stomach. To get her mind off the once far-off war that now choked their lives, she hurried to the village greenbelt to see what wares the caravan had brought.
Later, after haggling over a length of blue cloth, she paid a few coins to an old wrinkled trader and turned away. A tug on her dress halted her movement.
Maggie looked over her shoulder impatiently, expecting to see the old trader demanding more money. Instead a small, wiry man stood there, clutching a small wrapped bundle.
No, thank you, sir, I am not interested in buying more goods. Maggie said firmly and began to walk away.
No, no, wait, maam! the man caught up to her quickly. This is no ordinary trading good! Maggie turned, frustrated now. Well, what is it?
The man cautiously turned the bundle over, revealing a pink-cheeked infant.
A BABY! Maggie breathed, quickly taking the infant from the mans unskilled hands. Where did you find her? she asked, eyeing the man suspiciously.
Well, that is just the problem, maam. She was found on one of the wagons. The only possible clue we have of her identity is this. The man reached forward and pulled on one side of the blanket the baby was wrapped in. Maggie could see an emblem of a five-pronged star embroidered on the soft fabric. What is that? she murmured softly, fingering the cloth. Peering closer, beneath the emblem, she spotted a tiny word sewn onto the cloth: Katharine.
I guess thats her name. Maggie smiled gently down at the infant. When she looked up again the man was gone. What where did he go? she looked around anxiously. That that mongrel! Leaving me here with a baby! Suddenly the truth dawned on her. She eyed the peacefully sleeping child. Well, I guess Abba willed you to be mine, eh? Now you will be stuck with me as your mother your whole life.
The infant yawned and clenched her tiny fists, then peacefully snuggled closer to Maggie and fell asleep.
What will Charles think of this, eh, little one? Hell be mighty surprised when he comes home to a new daughter. With that she smiled at the sleeping Katharine and then marched purposefully back to the bakery.
*************