Moving forward (not backward) writing is still going strong. 5000 words and more. It’s going well, as seen by the excerpt below, but not perfect. There’s a lot of stuff that needs work, way to much exposition for one thing, but just remember, it’s supposed to be that way. I’m going to a wedding this weekend out of town, then going to write my ass off with my day off. I’ll post another excerpt when I can. Also reading a new book, non-fiction so it doesn’t interfere with the story, I’ll post more on that later.
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She was alone.
Rhie sat, her eyes closed, listening to the pleasant whispers of animals and insects as dusk fell over the grey-black mountains she’d lived in for the last week. As she sat, calming the whirlwind of emotions just being on a Hero-marked island had caused, she heard, faintly, the sounds of her two Teerlian guides breaking camp, then sneaking away with what they thought was her bag of tools and concoctions. In fact, it was full of leaves and rocks with no use, except that they were spelled with an unpleasant odor that would stay with the thieves for weeks, possibly months, depending on their bathing habits.
Sighing, Rhie let her mind focus once again on her task, now doubly hard, but somehow she still felt a sense of relief to have the two men gone. She was searching for the almost extinct plant known as Starweed in these parts, or Silvertounge in the northern edges of the country, where she had been raised. The plant was well known in myth and legend for being able to cure almost anything. It had been all but extinct for nearly 150 years, supposedly wiped out by the Sea Wars, which, despite their common name, actually took place mostly on land. In fact, between the massive grass and forest fires set by both armies and the prodigious use of medicinal herbs native to the Silver Lakes and surrounding areas, Rhie was surprised that more plants hadn’t gone extinct.
As she sat cross-legged in the dying light, new, more intense feelings began to arise in her, as they did every night about this time. Owanee, the Twilight Heroine, rules this time, the union between the day and night, the flow of powers stronger than either separately but not a blending, no, a totally new power created from the old. Like a child, part mother, part father, but ultimately the part that rules is that which is unique to the child itself, that which has no real source but Chance. Dusk took on a magic unique to itself, part day, part night and yet neither.
These thoughts danced in Rhie’s head as the sun’s last rays touched the thick line of clouds on the rocky horizon, firing them in the heat of unmatched shades of pink, red and orange. Owanee was not Rhie’s Patron, but still Rhie knew how to feel for the heroine’s influence and the young demigoddess let Rhie feel her power. She never let her touch it, but merely allowed her a glimpse. It was always like that. There where at least eighty heroes, each with their own provenance and most would let Rhie see their power, see the gifts they bestowed upon those chosen mortals who would walk in their footsteps and follow their teachings, and some were even allowed wield their power and do their will here on earth.
That was how Rhie ended up here. She could feel and see the powers around her very young, almost as long as she could remember. She spent her childhood with her Mother, traveling from town to town, pedaling wares with the market trains that crossed the entire Empire, from the snow chocked Northedge, to the great Western Desert, across which lay the small country of Inuana resting on the coast of the Green Sea. Everywhere that Rhie traveled, she learned new stories about the Heroes, sometimes even learning about new ones, those Heroes rarely spoken of in ‘civilized’ company. Her mother may have encouraged Rhie’s desire to learn about the Heroes they worshipped secretly, but Rhie rather doubted her mother would have approved of her learning the sordid tales of Teria the Seducer or Hippete the Joyous or especially the notorious Erian the Pirate. Nevertheless, Rhie’s young mind was insatiable for new stories. Whenever she heard a new one, she tried out her connection to the Hero as soon as possible. Like reaching for Owanee at twilight, she almost always got a response, but never the one she wanted. She would get tacit acknowledgement most of the time, a peek into their energy and power if she was lucky. The world flowed with power, Rhie had been taught since she was born, and her life energy was a part of that flow, given to her by her parents and the will of the Mother Fate. Sometimes though, certain lives are Touched by one of the Holy Ones, or Heroes and so affected when they appear in the world. The Holy Ones are special souls, created by the Eight to perform certain tasks or lead people when they most need it. After they shuck their mortal coils, the Heroes are gifted with a special place in the world between Heaven and Earth if they so choose, so that they can affect the world of mortals, but not directly. They must use acolytes, Priests or Priestesses, or rarely, mortal souls given great powers with which to do their bidding for them. To these Avatars, the Holy Ones give gifts and powers connected to their particular skill or talent. Sehan the Healer, for example, when a mortal, gave the gift of medicine knowledge to the peoples of the world, and his chosen were given the gift Healing in many forms, from being able to see the illness, to the ability to divert pain, even the ability to physically heal. All the Heroes gave such powers to their chosen, to some degree, yet the Avatars were given something more, some near to their own powers, but adapted to the times in which the Avatar was living, to bring the specific help that was needed right then. Some even spoke to their chosen in some way. Yera the Seer did so through the omens of the future her Avatars read.
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