God sometimes has us do hard things. For me the hardest thing I have ever had to do was leaving my home last Janurary, living in three different houses, and then finding myself in the big, noise, and crime city of Indanapolis. I don't even like cities! However, through it all I have been continually reminded to keep trusting God, to rely on Him, and always reminded that He never fails.
So, anyways, here I am in a 13 story building only a few blocks from right down town a huge city. I am 1000s of miles from home. I can rarely get outside and when I do it is only to pace the praking lot and I have to be careful even there. So, what do I do to keep from going sane? Well, it all started when 24 king pillowcases went missing and a huge spider dropped down in front of my face....I have also been done to count out many dead lady bugs I can find in one window :-D.
When I am not crawling about laundry chutes or questioning dryers - or avoding Bob the creepy spider - I am writing. I do not think I have any readers on here anymore, certain everyone must think I died or finally got into Narnia, but for those who happen to trip in here and see I am still in the land of the living and still on earth, I must give you the news that in four days, if all goes well, the 6th Marshall book will be complete. Exciting, no?
I am eagerly looking forward to my SEVENTEENTH not 23rd birthday in the hopes I will get an old fashioned book set of encyclopedias and a globe. I do not like having to hunt through the internet only to find I have wasted three hours of good writing time and only learned that when you put in maps of Israel you get maps of every place in the US but nothing else.
Nate has done something very bad on me. I told him when I started writing that he could be afraid of anything but snakes. It turned out he had a fear of needles, I DO NOT BLAME HIM, but this fear led to a fear of snakes...even he does not listen to me..
I was going to ramble more but I had a brainwave ad shall instead post the scene with the snake and needle *Is sometimes cleaver* Anyhow, here it is, enjoy, and I hope to have the case I am working on ready to post soon. It is the whole chapter, sorry so long! :-P
Chapter Sixteen...Venom!
The day was slowly wearing by and before too much longer night had fallen. Nate rode on for a little longer then decided he had better stop and set up camp. Soon he had a fire going and was warming a pot of baked beans over it. As the pot simmered he added in bits of the fake bacon he had brought with him. Before long the beans on the bottom of the pot had burned and stuck and the top had managed to remain cold.
Rolling his eyes, Nate yanked the pot off the fire and set it down on the ground. Shrugging his shoulders and grinning, he poked at his meal then grabbed a spoon and slowly, thoughtfully began to eat. Once he was done he washed the pot, which took awhile being as the beans were stuck to it, then wrapped up in his wool blanket and lay down.
Nate lay on his back and stared up at the thousands of stars which were winking down at him. It was a cool night and he knew it would be getting colder as the night wore on. The sand never retained the sun's heat and it could get cold in these places once night fell.
Moving closer to the fire, Nate turned his back to it and tried to close his eyes. The moment he did so the verses he had been remembering came back to him.
“I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans of good and not of evil to give you a future and a hope.”
“You have made my days as a hand-breath and my age as of nothing before You. Surely every man at his best state is all together vanity.”
Rolling to his back again, he looked up and slowly began to think over the verses. He did not make it far, however, before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
Jeremy, Sam, and Maddie had listened quietly to all Jessie had told them. When she was done talking, Sam had shaken his head and muttered, “You blew a hole in the roof.”
“And it worked tae!” Jessie exclaimed with a widening grin.
“Jessie,” Jeremy spoke up, rubbing his chin, “you worry me sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?” Sam asked, smirking at him. “She worries me all the time.”
Jessie snorted at them as Maddie leaned her head against her sister's shoulder and said, “I am glad you made it out safe.”
The other two nodded their heads in agreement and Jeremy added, “And though I probably never would have thought of it myself, I have to admit that was a creative way to get out.”
She smiled. “Thanks. I was thinking the whole time it was not gaeing tae work.”
“Why did you have that firecracker in your pack? And how did you manage to get some of Nate's bullets?” Sam was curious to know.
Grinning, Jessie answered, “The firecracker was left over from a Fourth of July celebration. I donna remember why I had the bullets.”
“Well, God must have wanted you to put them in there so you would be able to escape,” Maddie spoke up with a smile.
Jessie patted her head. “O' course! Dear little Maddie! Ye always hae guid reasons behind e'erything!”
Maddie turned red and Sam nodded his head in agreement then added, “Be that as it may, you might not want to carry explosives around in your pack anymore. You know how we have managed to get caught in fires before – not to mention we work with explosives. They might not be the safest thing to carry around.”
“Aye, I see yer point,” Jessie said thoughtfully, “I wull try tae remember that. That reminds me, I need a new water flask.”
Jeremy laughed and Maddie joined him. Sam just smirked and said he was sure they could find another one in the Douglas somewhere.
Once morning came, after a late night as the others ended up telling Jessie of all they had done once she was done with her story, the four of them decided to try and rent a car so they could follow Nate. When they went down, however, they learned there were still no cars available.
“Sae much for being a car rental,” Jessie said in disappointment as they made their way down the street, “they should change tae being a motorcycle rental.”
As she spoke they walked past a bakery. Inside there was standing a young man who escaped their notice as he stood with a crowd of people all waiting to place orders for bread and other things. The young man, however, saw them right off and watched them until they were past. Only when they had gone a ways down the street did he leave the crowd and start to follow them.
***
There was a soft, almost soothing hissing noise and the feeling of something laying on his chest. His first thought was a cat, though why it should be hissing and not purring was beyond him. It was only as he slowly left the dream world that be became aware of the fact that it was far too long to be a cat.
Nate slowly opened his eyes, feeling it was far too early to even think of waking up. He to blink several times before he was able to clear his vision enough to see anything really well. The moment he was able to make everything out, he looked down at his chest and suddenly wished he hadn't. There – curled up atop him, laying in the morning sun – was a huge, venomous snake!
***
Caleb watched as the four of them, the three younger Marshalls and Nate's boss, made their way back to the airport. He could not get close enough to hear anything they were saying though that mattered little to him just then. At the moment he just wanted to find out where they were going to be staying, once he knew that he would try and learn where Nate had disappeared to.
As they neared the airport, Caleb quickened his pace then hid behind one of the buildings and watched as the family went into the Douglas. They were gone for half an hour at the most before they reappeared with a few bags. Soon they were back in the city, Caleb keeping his distance as he trailed them – little knowing he had already been spotted.
***
Nate hardly dared to breath, let alone move. He did not take his eyes off the snake which was wide awake and looking at him as if it knew who he was and what he was thinking. Nate began to wonder if it would be possible to grab its head, thinking if he moved his hand slowly he might be able to catch it unawares.
Minutes seemed to drag on into hours before Nate was able to make himself move his hand. He began to inch it toward the snake as time seemed to stand still. He felt as if nothing was moving, not even his arm, and he wondered if he would be forced to lay here until he slowly starved to death. He would have shaken his head at his imagination but the movement would have ended with his body being injected with poison.
Slowly, slowly! He urged himself when he was tempted to move faster and just get it over with. You'll never make it if he sees you!
As if reading his thoughts, the snake turned its head and looked right at his hand. Nate froze, his arm held up in the air. Once again time seemed to pass slowly then it seemed to stand still as his arm began to ache from being held still. Nate bit his bottom lip and forced himself to think of something other then his arm, he also began to pray while he kept his eyes on the snake. He prayed it would look away so he could move his arm, or lower it, anything before it started to shake!
Something moved off to the left and the snake turned its head. Nate held back a sigh of relief and slowly, but at the same time somewhat quickly, lowered his arm back to his side – he quickly regretted it. The snake turned with a flash, shooting out its head and uncoiling in the time it took Nate to blink. Before he really knew what had happened, he felt a sharp pain in his arm followed by a stung.
Now that the snake had moved and was attached to his arm, the young man was able to act. Grabbing his knife from his belt, he yanked it free from the sheathed and quickly took off the snake's head. Once it wa dead he yanked the fangs out of his arm and sat up, moving back from the long, thin body which was beside him. He looked down at his arm and saw two small red spots there. Already he could feel the venom working, his arm was going numb and he knew he had to get it out before it passed through the rest of his body.
Moaning, Nate grasped his knife in his left hand and fixed his eyes on the spot on his arm, shuddering as he thought of what he had to do – wondering if he could make himself do it.
***
“Thaur is a mon following us.”
Jessie knew Jeremy had never believed her before when she had made these claims, however, he had been with her enough times to know she was usually right. He looked down at her now and she was glad to see he was concerned – she found it comforting to know there was someone older to keep her and the other two safe when Nate was not around. She grinned at him, realizing he was indeed now like another brother.
“How far back?” he asked without looking over his shoulder.
She had already estimated that. “Abbot seven or eight feet. He has been following us since before we reached the Douglas.”
“Have you seen him before?”
“Nae, not that I remember. He is not very old, mebbe a little younger then Nate. He has black hair, is not very tall, and is dressed in brown paints, a button shirt, and a sweeter vest with an old fashioned newsman's hat.”
Jeremy shook his head. “You are one of a kind, Jessie,” he murmured with a smile. She could not help but giggle.
Sam leaned in closer, he and Maddie having been listening to the whole exchange. “You do not suppose he is that reporter who was talking to Jefferson?” he asked Jeremy.
“I had not thought of that,” Jeremy admitted. Jessie saw him turn his head slightly and feared he would glance back, she was glad when he didn't. “I don't know how we can tell,” he added.
“I could if I got a good look at his shoes,” Sam muttered.
“Are we gaeing tae try and loose him?” Jessie asked, her eyes shinning.
Looking from her, to Sam, and lastly to Maddie, Jeremy shook his head. “Nate would kill me if I drug you three along in it,” he answered her question, “but I think I might try.”
Jessie moaned – mostly because she knew he had a pointed and she was disappointed that she could not help jump the reporter.
***
Nathan Marshall was not afraid of many things. This fact had not made him cocky by any means, nor did it make him daring. Just because he was not afraid to jump off cliffs into bodies of water did not mean it was something he did on weekends just to show he could do it. In fact, it was something he tried not to do much. However, in spite of all that, there was one thing he did fear so much it could make him immovable. He was terrified of needles.
Dr. Marshall had been bitten by a snake once and had had nothing to stop the venom. He had done his best to get as much of the venom out as possible but had failed in getting it all and had almost died before he reached a doctor. From that day on he had always had his children carry anti snake venom with them and they had all taken classes together as a family, learning how to inject it into themselves safely.
It had been one of Nate's worst fears that someday he would get bit by a snake and have to poke himself with the needle. He had been careful for years, avoiding snakes as much as possible so as not to run the risk. Jessie had always teased him, saying his fear of needles was going to end up making him scared of snakes. Now, as he looked at his arm, he decided having a fear of snakes was a good thing. Had he been more wary of them he would probably not be here now – having to stab himself in the arm.
“I don't think I can do this,” he whispered even as he felt himself start to get dizzy. He had grabbed his pack but had not dared to pull out the case that held the needles and antidote. The very thought of having to even get the needle out was making him feel faint. “Oh, Father!” he gasped. “I can't do this!” Even as he said the words he knew he had to act quickly, do something before the venom spread much further. If it reached his heart he would be dead.
Slowly, his arm shaking, Nate reached into his pack and dug down from the case. He slowly pulled it out but could not open it and make himself look at that long, thin needle inside. He shuddered and felt his heart start to beat faster as seconds slowly wore by. Was he just going to sit here and slowly die when the very thing that could save his life was now resting in his hands?
“I can't do it,” he whispered again, shuddering and about to set the case down. However, before he had a chance do, a very came to mind. “Therefore I prayed three times that this might be removed from me. And He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you and power is perfected in weakness.'”
Nate was surprised to find a smile pulling at his lips even as his hand closed more firmly over the case. “I need a lot of power right now,” he whispered before closing his eyes and opening the latch. He heard it click and slowly opened his eyes and looked down – right at the needle.
***
Jeremy made certain they reached the inn in safety and made it inside. He even went in with them, rented two rooms, then told them he would try not to be long before he walked back outside again. This time he walked back the way they had just come, going swiftly and trying to look as if he had forgotten something and was now returning for it.
The moment he had stepped out of the inn, Jeremy spotted the man Jessie had said was following them. The young man showed no reaction that he had seen Jeremy but kept walking toward him, seeming lost in his own world. Jeremy was not bothered by this and swiftly continued on his way until he was next to the man – he then acted, hoping he was not about to jump someone who was hiding a weapon on himself.
“Why I never would have guessed!” he exclaimed loudly as he grasped the young man by the shoulders and forced him to face him. “Frank! I had no idea you were in Israel! Why didn't you tell me?”
The young man's eyes went as wide as dinner plates as he stared up at Jeremy. Some of the people who were walking about eyed the two but no one stopped or seemed to think there was anything suspicious in the exchange. For a moment the two Americans stood there, facing each other, then the young man recovered and tried to pull free.
“I think you have the wrong man,” he said calmly, “my name is not Frank – and I do not think we have met before.”
Jeremy tightened his grip on his shoulders. “Maybe we haven't, but I have heard you before,” he said more quietly then before. “I recognize your voice.”
“What do you mean?” he demanded, his eyes widening once more.
“I mean I think it is time you and I got introduced.”
***
Nate stuck the needle into the small bottle and pulling back on the sterenge, filling it full of the clear, thick antidote. His hand shook again as he pulled the needle out and held it as far from himself as possible. He was starting to feel sick and he was not sure if it was from the venom or fear. He could feel sweat on his forehead but was more aware of the fact that the earth was moving about on him – almost like a shipping.
“Come on, Marshall!” he chided himself. “Think of the others! They will never forgive you if you die on them when you could have lived.” His speech did little good, but he again prayed and brought the needle closer, even went so far as to lay it against his arm – near the vein.
“Just don't think about it,” he whispered as he resisted the urge to close his eyes, “Father help me.” Going at it slowly so he would be sure not to miss the vein, Nate stuck the needle in and felt ready to black out when he saw it sticking from his arm. He forced himself to remain calm as he slowly pushed in the antidote. It was only when the sterenge was empty that he gave in and fell to his side, his world going black.
***
Jeremy kept a firm grip on the young man's arm as he walked him down the street. For awhile he allowed him to walk in silence, but after awhile he began asking questions.
“So, I know you are a reporter and your name is Caleb Rose and that you have recently had a nice, long conversation with a man named Alex Jefferson. I also know that during that conversation you talked about a good friend of mine. What I don't know is why you went to someone like Jefferson for a story, what you are trying to uncover, or who you work for. That is what you are going to tell me.”
“How do you know that?” Caleb demanded, scowling up at Jeremy and looking very out of sorts.
“I just happened to be under the table at the time. I might add that you came inches from kicking Nate's brother in the nose.”
Caleb blinked. “You were spying?” he demanded.
“More like trying to avoid someone who would like nothing then to see us gone from the face of the earth,” Jeremy replied ruefully. He noticed there was something strange about Caleb's voice though he was unable to explain it. He figured it had to be the young man's accent. “But enough of that, why are you trying to find out about Nate?”
“I am a reporter as you pointed out,” Caleb grumbled, “it is what I do.”
“Why Nate? Why not some other story?”
“Nathan Marshall's parents were well known – or do you not know that? There are many who wish to know what is happening to him.”
“Then why did you go to someone like Jefferson for information? Don't you know who that man is?”
Caleb looked away. “I fail to see why I have to be interrogated by you.”
Jeremy stopped walking and faced the reporter. “It is better for me to interrogate you then beat you into the dirt as you deserve! But, I cannot force you to answer my questions though there is one think I can do.”
“Which is?” Caleb spoke softer now, his eyes widening as he met the flashing one's of Jeremy.
“I can warn you. If you even try to ruin Nate's reputation, or that of his siblings, I will find you and personally make sure you never write again. Understand?” Jeremy knew he had to lay off on his threats sometime, he was always worried someday one of the people he tried it on would actually dare him to do it. However, he knew he could not stand back and do nothing, even if a story printed by this man had no chance of being believed. He was surprised, though, at Caleb's reaction.
The young reporter broke into a smile, one that looked a little lopsided, and said, “Though I am not sure I like your methods I do admire how you stand up for him. Nathan Marshall should be most grateful to have a friend like you.”
Jeremy was not sure what to say to that, being it was the last thing he had expected this man to say. “Yes, well,” he muttered under his breath, “just make sure you have your facts straight before you print anything.”
Caleb shifted his feet. “You can be assured I will,” he murmured, looking away.
***
Nate slowly opened his eyes and looked about. His head ached and felt fuzzy. He found he was having trouble making sense of things and for awhile lay still, trying to remember everything. It slowly came back, for which he was grateful. He remembered the snake, the bite, and the needle – then he remembered blacking out. Slowly he looked down at his arm and shuddered when he saw the needle still in it – this he quickly removed.
Sitting up, Nate wondered if he had black out from the venom or the needle and decided he would not think on it much. He forced his hands to work and put the needle back in the case, then he leaned against a nearby rock and closed his eyes, waiting for his head to stop spinning.
“Thank You, Father,” he whispered under his breath once his thoughts stopped tumbling about, “thank You for helping me to do that – for giving me strength.”
Silence fell back over everything once he had finished his prayer and he again opened his eyes. It was nearing dusk he saw and he realized he had wasted a whole day. He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair before his eyes fell on the snake. He moaned and decided Jessie was right, needles had managed to make him fear snakes. He was certain he would never be able to trust them again.
Nate did not move for awhile and by the time he felt ready to stand the sun was setting. The first thing he did was to remove the snake's body and head from sight, then he restarted his fire and sat down beside it, eating some crackers. He did not really want to try his burning skills again and decided to settle on things that did not have to be cooked. By the time he was done eating it was dark and once again he lay down to sleep. This time, however, he was more wary.
“I hope that snake does not have a mate,” he muttered to himself as he rolled to his side and yanked the blanket tightly about his shoulders. He closed his eyes but only saw imagines of the snake striking and then of the needle. He moaned and opened his eyes, looking into the fire. For awhile he lay there, then he slowly closed them again and began to pray – doing so until he was able to fall asleep.
The next morning Nate was awakened by the sun in his eyes and was greatly relieved to not only to not find a snake on his chest but to not see any even close. He got up, rolled up his blanket, and felt in such good spirits that he decided to try and cook breakfast. He found a pack of instant oatmeal and soon had water boiling and the oatmeal in the pot – a few minutes later and he had black paste in the pot and no water.
Shaking his head, Nate dumped the oats out, knowing they were beyond editable. Opening his pack, he instead found the ever present jar of peanut butter and, to his surprise, a slice of very flat break. Grinning, he grabbed his knife – which he had cleaned after killing the snake – and spread peanut butter thickly upon the bread.
Once his breakfast was done, the pot was cleaned and packed away, and the fire was out he placed everything onto the back of the motorcycle, strapped it down, and pulled his helmet on. Before leaving, he slowly looked over the camp and felt a smile pull at his lips as he thought of how Jessie would have called it a battle site rather then a campsite. Little did he know, as he drove off, that there was another battle waiting for him at the caves.
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This is to say this template is being worked on and that Katie and I are writing a Marshall book together. Short, I know, but my brain is not working so short it what you get :-D
Heather
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“Last night, The 5th December Saturday in the Year of our Lord 2009, a great crime was committed in room 1023. At exactly ten o'clock sharp Reid was stabbed in the shoulder and I, Heather Nicole Knisley, received a sore ankle when the villain dropped his dagger, hilt first, upon it.
“Now, Maddock and Theobald have rounded up the most likely suspects while the others – Striker, Caillen, BenArgon, Trystan, Trisli, Quentin, Roderick, Kenrick, Ryder-Adair, Colin, and Rowan – have all rounded up the villains from their tales as we can never be too careful in matters such as this.
“Now, we have before us the following suspects: Pillion, Reid's father, Della, Connan, and the Sea Raider whose name I do not remember.
“First of all we must go through the reasons one would have in stabbing Reid to begin with. It goes without saying that everyone present has a good reason for dropping a dagger hilt on my ankle. Now, it is clear Reid's father has the most cause for hatred yet we cannot accuse without more knowledge.
“You, Reid's father, step forward if you please and answer a few questions unless you fear to do so.”
The man moved closer to me, casting a look of annoyance and hate at his son who was seated along one of the walls. I kept my eyes on him, trying to look firm and as if I was in command around here – all the while doubting he believed it. I rammed my hands in my coat pockets and looked the man in the eyes as I shifted off my sore ankle.
“Where were you last night?” I demanded, all the while telling myself I had nothing to fear from this man I had created.
“I was in my book,” was the curt reply. He glared at me, daring me to over step the bounds that exist between all authors and characters. Very few have ever stepped over and have remained in safety and sanity. I had a feeling that if I over stepped I would loose my sanity rather then my safety – after all, how safe was I even now? How many times had these very characters inflicted hurt upon me in some way or other.
“Do you have any alibis to this?” I asked firmly. I hoped he did not say one of the other villains could confirm this. To my surprise, he didn't.
“Yes,” he said, which I had been expecting, “Trisli was with me.”
I hoped the surprise I felt did not show in my eyes. “Trisli?” I looked over at him, wondering what one of my good characters could be doing with this vile one.
Trisli nodded his head. “Yes, I was,” he answered, his face reddening. “I had forgotten about it but I was with him at ten. I had passed him when I was walking through the woods and we stopped and talked for awhile.”
Reid's father grinned. “Yes, see? I was telling the truth. And besides, do you really think I would have just settled for stabbing my son in the shoulder? I would have gone for his heart!”
I showed my displeasure and hoped he did not think his honesty was going to justify him in my eyes. “You can go,” I told him without looking at him again. Well, that had not gone as planned. It would be better if everyone had told me all the facts before hand. I didn't look at Trisli but instead turned to Pillion.
“Forward,” I ordered with a quick glance over at Theobald. I saw his blue green eyes were shinning with a hidden smile and had to look away before I laughed outright. I could imagine what he was grinning about – me in my coat, trying to solve a mystery and look and sound like I was serious and in command. It had to be a humorous sight.
“Where were you last night?” I demanded of Pillion, not allowing a hint of gentleness to show with this man. This man, more then any other, deserved the sternness he received.
Pillion's alibi was even more fool proof then Reid's father. “I was sleeping,” he grumbled, “you can ask anyone in Hemlock and they will confirm this. Also, my dear author-” he said the words with utter contempt and I knew he would like nothing better then to knife me – not a comforting fact, “Do you really think I would kill Reid? What have I against him? If I was going to kill anyone I would not settle for a shoulder wound and I would kill Maddock rather then Reid! Also, I would not drop my dagger hilt first upon your ankle but point down!”
And this man wondered why I distrusted him. “Back,” I ordered, “but know you are not off the suspect list.”
Sadly I got no better an answer from Della and found she too had a passable alibi to her whereabouts at ten last night. I was not feeling at a loss as the other two had the same proof that they could not be the ones who had committed the crime. Now what was I to do? I dismissed everyone, making certain the villains were placed under watchful care, and sat down heavily in one of the chairs. I sighed and dropped my head into my hands, racking a hand through my bangs as I thrust out my sore ankle.
So, what did I have? None of the villains I had questioned could possibly be guilty of the crime, so who did that leave? Surely not one of the heroes, none of them would have stabbed Reid, would they? Surely not! I rebuked myself. They all knew he was good now! Yet, there was no one left and wasn't it part of justice to question all who were in suspicion? Yes, there was no other way around it, was there? I had to question them. But I could not do it before the villains.
As I sat and thought I also began to wonder if there was a way out of questioning them at all. Would it be possible for me, me of all people, to uncover the mystery? Well, it was worth a try and if all failed I could always resort to interrogations. Standing up, I made my way about the room, examining every inch of it.
At first I saw nothing, everything was just as I had left it before I had gone to bed. Everything was where it belonged – or so I thought. I had been on my hands and knee, peeking under the beds, when – straightening up – my eyes landed on the nightstand. Curious, I crawled over to it and took a closer look. Yes, there, at the bottom left corner, the side where I usually left my computer at night, was a small clump of mud. I sat down and thought it over.
The mud could not have come from my shoe I knew. I had not been outside since Sunday and that only to walk to the van. There was no mud about where I walked. Also I knew it could not come from anyone's shoe that worked at the Center as no one had been in my room. That left one of my characters, but who had been in the mud? I racked my brain for an answer but in the end had to turn to my computer and search my stories.
Going slowly so as to miss nothing, I read over everything I had written over the last few days. I was shocked by my discovery, in fact I was knocked speechless for a moment or two. When I recovered I went to Theobald and Maddock, two of my most trusted characters next to Nate.
“I have found the culprit,” I told them, keeping my voice low in case said culprit was listening.
Their eyes widened. “Who is it?” Theobald asked.
“One of the men I have not named yet,” I whispered, glancing again at my computer. “He is the one who was to appear and kidnap Adalee in the third book,” I added.
Maddock had his hand on his dagger while Theobald scowled darkly at the computer.
“Shall we bring him out for you?” Maddock asked, eyes gleaming.
“No, I do not think so,” I answered, breaking into a grin, “I think I can find a just punishment for him. However, I do need you two to keep an eye on him while I work on the scene. I do not wish him to know I am on to him,” and as I spoke I looked at my ankle so they would get the meaning.
Both moved toward the computer, saying they would keep an eye on the man while I worked. Well, the rest was fairly simple. I wrote up a scene for punishment to the man, reminding him who was in charge – most of the time – around here, and then had a talk with him. He agreed to not cause more trouble if I agreed to not give him a humiliating ending. I sometimes wish my characters would simply ask me these requests instead of sneaking about dropping daggers on me and stabbing each other.
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I know, time to update. I have been slow about it becuase I have had nothing to write about, other then the writing I do in my books. Which is going well. I am on chapter six in the Hemlock book, I would have been at seven today and I not gone and gotten sick and been forbidden to write by my little sister who insists I write too much. Hmm...
Anyways. I am on chapter three of the Marshall book I restarted now that I got them off my old computer. At the same time I am editing my NaNo book, planning to get the free copy and then sending it into this contest. I am doing that one because it is already edited and I haven't time to get another ready in time.
Once I am finished editing the NaNo one I am planning on working on the 2nd Marshall one and getting the dogfight all worked out so it will be ready for the final reading and then publication. Then I am going to redo the first one...while editing the 1st Hemlock book. All the while asking myself, "I thought you were an author, not an editor?"
Well, holidays are over and I suppose everyone is getting back into work and school. I know I am, all the while missing my Wyoming home and the bitter cold. I am back in Indy for the next three months. That wonderful foggy city full of screaming police cars and passenger jets. I feel cities are lacking in everything I find inspiring. Fresh air. Ten foot snow drifts. Cessna crop dusters. Mountains. Peace and quiet. Still, this is where God wants me and I have lots of time to write, when I am not tackling sheets in the laundry room which find it their great delight to shock me.
So, I am curous. What was everyone's fondest Christmas memory this year? Also their New Years one?
Mine was the epic snowball fight I had with my family and walking about the park Christmas day, playing Ranger with my brother. My New Years one was staying up till one with my cousins and brothers, trying to tell creepy stories and not laugh too loud so as to wake my now married cousin and her husband then being awakened seven hours later to one of my younger cousins yelling, "Steem roller!" And rolling over all of us. :-D There was also our skiing trip in which I saw said cousin eaten alive by a tree.
Now that I was a good girl and posted I am going to sneak off and write, seeing as I left Nate in Jefferson's clutches and shoudl get him out before bed. That I am most curous to find out what is going to happen to Sherlock Holmes.
Adieu to you all!
Heather
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Recently I have faced many ups and downs with my writing, mostly with the Hemlock books. I have had far too many plots and characters for the series and, after much work and arguing – which included death threats and dagger pulling, making me long all the more for my sword – I have come to terms with everyone and we have settled on many things.
Hemlock is now a six book series. I completely took out Trisli's plot and am using it for another series I am planning – which just had a cool title and a character with a cool name. Trisli is still in the books but I do not go into the story of – oh wait, that would give away a plot. Moving on.
Also, I am pleased to announce that, as I have finally finished the final version of Despair and Hope, it is now being edited. I am in the hopes of completing editing by May at the latest and seeking out a publisher soon. Among changes in this book is the change in title which now appears as:
The Tales of Hemlock
The Stranger
A Story of Despair and Hope.
Another quirk I am trying to work out is Theobald's hood. I have been debating changing it to a mask but have yet to find one that suits him, me, and the plot. It is terribly hard to de-mask a guy, ten times easier to de-hood him. Not to mention I have been having interesting dreams about the Lone Ranger since then.
Book two has also changed in that it is now book three and there is a new book two. In this book Reid returns out of the blue. Need I say more?
Then there is that death scene I wrote for Maddock but which was strongly voted against by many of his adoring fans. I still determined to use it on someone and made a character for it, only when I wrote it it was lacking in something. Roderick could not pull it off. So, Roderick lives – and Quentin has offered to take the scene. Rather he was voted in to it being I would not be killing off one of the main heroes while at the same time making it sad – yes, that was an interesting debate.
While book one is coming along very well book two is struggling. I am uncertain about the plot and am therefore going at it more slowly then I normally do. However, I have not stopped writing all together and am reviving a story that was about to be sent to the black hole. The character in it gave me some major problems – kidnapping the muse I share with my best friends and holding her hostage for a whole night. However, I think everything is better now – at least I hope it is. I shall keep everyone updated on that but for now I have to be off as the character is calling
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I have made no progress on the Marshalls, mainly because my Dell went wacky and broke and I can't get the books off until I call for help-HELP!
Right now I am trying to get six months of clothing into my two suitcases. It isn't working, oddly enough. I could leave half of the things behind, but then I would be in trouble. I have to behave myself in Indy and act and look like a lady-if you ask me that is asking for the impossible :-D
The real hard part of my packing is trying to decide what books to take :-)
Oh yes, I remember now what is going on with the Marshalls-in the editing department. My editor clearly pointed out that Jessie cannot carry on a dogfight with a wounded arm----she also pointed out that it is unlikely a 13-year-old could even do a dog fight-to which a friend of mine disagreed strongly. I was going to ask him more about it, but he left and will not be back until I am gone. So, I either have to take the fight out, make it were Nate is doing it, or lessen the tricks Jessie does-unless I can prove she could have pulled it off-"Wanted, a 13-year-old to pull stunts, must provide biplane."
I am thinking I need to experment the things I have my characters do-as in jump out of cars, planes about to take off, have a speed boat fight, swim in stormy waters with sharks-and so forth. That way when anyone says, "That can't be done!" I can say, "Yes it can!" And not be the next Indaina Jones-swinging from a whip which COULD NOT be done! At least, I doubt it----I should try that too.
I wonder if I should experment with Hemlock too while I am at it. Might as well do Nightshade too.
I might not be able to update again before I go. I wanted to give everyone my email address so we can keep in contact while I am away. DON'T FORGET ABOUT ME!!!!!!!! Goodbye, in case I am not back, and I will see everyone at Christmas!
Heather
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In the first story, "A study in Scarlet," Holmes is only 24. Watson is younger then Holmes by a few years, though I have yet to find his birth date.
In the story I am reading at the moment Holmes is only 43-I was thinking he was much older then that. I have not found out how old he was when he "died" but I shall have to go look.
In other news it is cold here and I have an over amount of energy. I think I should go run outside. Or ski, but there is no snow. I could-could-go dig out the carrots. Or go for a walk in the wind and hope it snows on me. However, seeing as I am making-rather burning-dinner soon I should stay around here so no one starves.
My sudden burst of adventure and energy is not helped by the fact that I am reading Sherlock Holmes AND an adventure book-titled-Adventure! :-D. I think I am partly stuck in Egypt and will not be back for years to come.
I should go, I am rambling pointlessly now.
Maybe I should go eat some ant peach preserves-and search more on King Tut-
Okay, okay, I'm leaving!
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Everything in life we do is full of choices, and desions we have to make. What we chose to do will effect what happens to us next in life. And yes, this is Heather saying this. The one who debates against choices. But that and this is different.
I could give a hundred-at least-examples of how this is true, but how about you just take my word for it :-D. Just kidding. I am certain you have seen this in your own lives.
You chose to stay up till two in the morning chatting with friends and then are not fully awake for school the next day-and so forth.
Over the last year, starting at the end of April, I have had to make several choices-and yes I cannot spell it. I mean I can but I don't know which spelling it is and I don't care to go look at the moment :-D.
My choices have taken me from home. I have lived in three different homes from January to now. My choice had me quit my job before I left in August. When I came back I did not have a job, that is why I am going to Indy now.
If I had not told certain things, if I had not quit my job, if I had waited a little longer, if I had done this or that-all what if's. Where would I be now if I had done things different? Would I be at home still? Would I be in my snug little room writing away while talking to Theynore as I watched the storm clouds roll in.
This winter, instead of being in Indy would I be sliding on the snow and sking with my brothers. Would I be playing with my four little girls I cared for?
More then likely. And right now, more then anything, that is what I want to go back to. But that is not what God wants.
Pastor keeps telling me I am on an adventure now. I think he say's that because he knows I like adventures. Still, no adventure was ever easy-ask anyone from the books. Still, this is were God has put me. This is where He wants me. And, for the time being, it looks like I'll be here for awhile.
All I can do is trust God, follow Him as He leads me-while wondering where all this will end, and ask your prayers for me and my family.
All that was to say that, more then likely, I shall be leaving to Indiana in October and will be there till March-most likely. I will be working at something like a hotel while I am there. Beyond that, I have no idea what I have gotten myself into.
Here we go again.
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I could go into detail of my trip, or I could leave you guessing...oops, that should have been a dash.
Anyhow. One of the main things I enjoyed-other then seeing Katie and her family, getting fed sugar by Maddie so she could hear me giggle insanely over Aragorn's sword, and sitting out on the roof writing and complaining about Beastys-was the fair.
What fair do you ask? Good question. Sadly, I haven't got a good answer, but I do have an answer.
Fair: A place were people go to have fun and eat very large pickles. Also known as a place were people dress up in layered clothing and melt all day.
Sounds fun, doesn't it?
I can safely say it was-because I was there.
It was hot when we got to the fair, so hot that the moment we stepped from the car those with glasses could not see-because our glasses fogged up. Now, heat in general is a pain. However, when you are dressed in layers of skirts or-as in my case-a cloak-heat is enough to do you under. It was a wonder we all lasted the whole day.
Every so often one of our group, which consisted of-I forget their user names, but Mr. Cool and his two sisters-Katie, Maddie, Molly, Anna, and me-would ask me, "Aren't you hot?"
Do birds fly? Do gypsies dance and steal Ranger's daggers? I was draped in a two layer cloak. Of course I was hot! I was melting. However, every time I said yes Katie would say, "But your not going to take the cloak off, are you?"
Not a chance!
So, I suffered through the heat, and got my revenge when it poured rain on us. While everyone was getting soaked to the bone I pulled my hood up over my head and remained quite dry under my cloak :-D.
I could go on for pages, make a whole novel of my trip down to Katies-so you can imagine what I could do if I told you of the whole month I was gone. However, as that would put you to sleep, I shall bite my tongue until farther notice.
OUCH! Thenth, meth, baterth...
Okay, this is my farther notice, that hurt-badly.
I should go.
Fare thee well all-two or so-of my readers!
Heather
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I've been very bad and made a girl revolt. Jessie, who has always been so nice and never cared what I put her through, revolted. Raakel, who was supposed to not even be in the book but just kind of showed up, has followed her.
Though I don't intend the Marshall books to be romances I did have their weddings planned, and who they would marry. Nate was supposed to marry a girl named Ruth, a nurse. However, Raakel decided she wanted to be in more of the book, got kidnapped, then decided she wanted to marry Nate. He liked the idea, and is trying to turn romantic on me. I think I am the only none romantic writer who has romantic characters.
Anyways, I am halfway through with Hazard on the High Seas. In fact I just finished writing a scene, yesterday, were Nate was nearly eaten by a shark. Look below for it :-D I'm too sick to say more. You can just read the story to make up for my lack of words.
Jessie was so intent on looking at the ship that she did not notice the water was getting darker. She did not notice until Nate grabbed her arm and pointed up. The others were already swimming up, but he had returned for his distracted sister.
Jessie's eyes widened when she saw the change and she nodded her head to show she understood Nate. There was a storm coming and they had to get back to shore! She turned to follow him, leaving the old ship behind. However, she did not make it far when her tank caught on a piece of metal that was jutting out. Taken off guard, Jessie wrenched around, and did more harm then good.
One of the straps that held the tank to her shoulders, snapped. The heavy tank fell sideways and pulled her down. Jessie fought to rise, and in the process the other strap broke. The tank slid of Jessie's back, yanking her mask with it. Jessie clapped her mouth shut and swam upward.
Nate had not been idle during the whole thing. Seeing she was caught he had turned back to help her, but by then the tank had already fallen from her back. Bubbles filled the water, and Nate swam back to his sister. He grabbed her arm, tore his own mask from his face, and placed it over hers. Jessie breathed deeply.
Nate jabbed his finger back down at the tank, and then slowly swam down. He and Jessie took turns using his mask as they went. The tank had fallen in the door of a partly opened hatch. It was now caught fast. Nate made hand motions to Jessie to tell her he was going to pull it out. Jessie took a deep breath, then handed the mask back to Nate.
Nate tried to work quickly. He grabbed the tank and tried to pull it free, but it was much harder then he thought it would be. The tank was stuck, and he could not get good leverage to pull. Annoyed he let go and removed the mask so Jessie could breath again. While she was using it he thought. By the time she handed it back to him he had a plan.
Placing his feet on either side of the hatch, he bent over, grabbed the tank, and pulled up. Nothing happened at first, and he felt as if he was accomplishing nothing more then straining his muscles. He was about to let it go, and come back for it later with Jeremy, when it suddenly yielded its grip. The tank came up, the hatch snapped open, then fell closed at the same time that Nate's foot slid into the opening.
Jessie grabbed her brother's arm and tried to yank him out of the way as the heavy metal fell down. However, she was not fast enough, and the metal door caught Nate's leg, pinning him fast. Nate bit his lip and closed his eyes in pain.
Jessie struggled into her tank, put her mask on, and took a deep breath, she then swam over to the hatch. She tried to push it up, but it was far to heavy. She knew she could never get it to move without help. Jessie jabbed her finger up and looked at Nate. She could see he was in pain, but he nodded his head. As he did so Jessie noticed that his leg was bleeding.
One thought flashed through Jessie's mind, sharks! She looked around quickly, failing to notice Nate was doing the same thing. They had seen sharks on their last few visits down, but the majestic animals had stayed at a distance, more afraid of the intruders then they were of them. However, now that there was blood in the water, they could come in a frenzy.
Nate was pointing up again. The look in his eyes said enough. “Get help, Jessie!”
Get help? And leave him here, to be eaten alive? She could not leave him, not now! She had to get him out! After all, she had gotten him into this mess.
“God, help me!” she prayed. “I hae tae get him oot, help me tae dae it! Give me the strength!”
Once more Jessie grabbed the hatch, and once more she tried to move it back up. The minutes seemed like hours. Nate did all he could to help, but he could do very little because of his position. Jessie was just about to admit defeat, and hurriedly get help, when a dark shape swimming through the water changed her mind. She knew a shark when she saw one.
The beast had spotted them, she knew as much by the fact that he was swimming toward them-very quickly. Nate grabbed Jessie's arm and tried to shove her to the side. However, Jessie pulled free, and acting without thought, looked for something she could use to fight the beast off. Nate watched her in dismay.
“Father, don't let her get killed!” Nate prayed as Jessie picked up a long rusted metal pole. By that time three more sharks had appeared. They came in from all four sides.
Jessie ignored the other three, and turned to face the first one. By that time he was almost upon Nate, who was seeing his life flash before his eyes. Jessie swam to his side and stuck out the metal pole. She did not move as the shark moved in, and when he was closer she swung the pole around. The shark charged it full force.
Jessie was knocked backwards, lost her grip on the pole, and hit the deck. As she starting floating up she saw the shark writhing wildly about. Blood clouded the water. Jessie stared in horror for a moment, then swam back to Nate. The other two sharks, seeing more blood then from Nate's leg wound, went after the bleeding shark. Jessie did not watch as they began to eat him.
How she got the hatch opened, Jessie never knew. She could only ever say, “'Twas through God!” Once Nate was out the two swam upward, reaching the top in time to face a new danger.
The moment their heads broke the surface they were slapped in the face by a howling wind. About ten feet from them they could see the boat. It was being tossed about the waves as if it was nothing more then a piece of drift wood. At any moment Nate was certain it would be smashed to pieces.
Jessie pulled her mask off, and got a mouth full of water. Spitting and coughing she yelled, “We hae tae help them!”
“If we get near that boat,” Nate yelled as he grabbed her arm, “we will be crushed!”
“Ye mean we hae tae stay in the water?” Jessie yelled back. “What abbot the sharks?”
Nate had not forgotten the sharks. “We have to trust God!”
Jessie opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say never came. “Wave!” she yelled instead; she pointed over Nate's shoulder.
Nate turned just in time to see a huge wave rise up over his head, and come crashing down on them. He had Jessie were pushed underwater, and had to fight to come up again. They both gasped as they breathed in the cool air. Rain hit them hard in the face.
“Should we gae back under?” Jessie yelled. At the moment she thought fighting off the sharks would be better then fighting the storm. He looked at the boat again.
“Maybe we should try for it,” he said doubtfully. Jessie did not answer as another wave came crashing down on the them again. This time they were pushed farther down, and saw that two more sharks had joined the three.
Jessie fought her way up first. Just as her head came out of the water jagged lightening lit the sky. Jessie rubbed her eyes. “I think getting on the boat would be a guid idea!” she yelled to Nate.
He was starting to agree. He was not to keen on the idea of getting shoved under again. “Come on!”
They began to swim toward the heaving, rocking boat. The waves tossed them about, throwing them this way and that. Nate felt exhausted before he had gone five feet-which really felt like twenty feet. Jessie was doing no better. Often he had to grab her arm so they would not be separated.
Finally Nate stopped. “Put your mask on!” he yelled to Jessie.
Jessie obeyed. Once they had them back on, they both dove under the water, and nearly found themselves face to face with a shark. The shark did not seem concerned about the storm, only fulfilling his hunger for more food. Nate's leg was still bleeding, the wound re-opening every time he moved it.
Jessie turned to the side and swam out of the shark's path; Nate swam in the other direction. The waves were nearly as wild under the water as atop. This did not help matters any.
The shark turned quickly and came at them from behind. Nate pulled Jessie out of the way, and kicked at the beast as he swam past. It did little good. The shark turned his head and bit at Nate's flipper; he removed it, then dropped it. Jessie would have laughed, under different circumstances.
Nate was already pulling her away. Jessie could not believe they were trying to outrun a shark in a storm. The shark was in front of them again, only this time, when they swam to the side, he did the same. They found themselves face to face, and it might have ended there had not Nate yanked Jessie down. They swam ahead; Jessie did not look back.
Nate was the one who keep his eyes open. He was the one who saw the shark coming, and this time swam up. He did not stop swimming up until he had broken the surface, and was hit in the head by the side of a boat. Nate dropped back into the water, and would have fallen into the sharks open mouth had not Jessie pulled him up.
“Help!” she yelled as she tore the mask from her face. “Doon here!”
The waves and thunder drowned out her voice, and the shark reminded her to keep moving. Nate and she swam around the boat, trying to avoid the hungry animal and getting bashed in the head. All the while they kept yelling for help. No one heard them until they were on the other side of the boat.
“I heard something!” they heard Jeremy yelling, before they dove back under to escape the shark.
“Lower a rope!” when they came up again they could hear Sam yelling.
“What side?” Lorenz's voice boomed out.
“Port!” Maddie yelled.
Then a dark shape leaned over the side, and a rope was tossed out. “Grab on!” Lorenz yelled.
Nate found the other in of the rope, grabbed it, and wrapped his arm around Jessie. “Pull!” he yelled as loudly as he could. The rope went taunt and they began to move forward. Jessie turned her head in time to see a fin stick out above the water.
“He's back!” she yelled to Nate.
Nate turned his head just as the fin went under. He yanked his feet closer to his chest just as he felt something brush against his leg. “Pull!” he yelled urgently.
The shark passed under Jessie and him. He could see the dark shape as it turned and came back. He looked at his sister, then yelled, “Hold tight to the rope!”
She did so. “What are ye daeing?” she yelled.
Nate did not answer, only said, “I love you, Jessie!” then let go.
The change in the weight made it even easer for Lorenz to pull, and Jessie was yanked forward quickly. Before she knew it, Nate was lost to sight. And the next thing she knew she was being pulled up onto the boat. She was knocked against the side a few times, but made it up safely.
“Nate!” Jessie yelled the moment she landed on the deck.
“Where is he?” Jeremy was already at her side.
Jessie ran to the edge of the boat and would have jumped in had not Jeremy grabbed her. “He's still thaur!” she yelled, pointing at the water. “Thaur is a shark after him!”
Jeremy did not wait for more. He grabbed a knife in one hand, the end of the rope in the other, and dove over the side. With powerful strokes he fought the waves, swimming back to were he assumed Nate had been last. Once he was there he dove under, and saw his friend battling a shark five feet to his left. Changing directions he swam to his aid.
There was a lot of blood in the already dark water, a fact which made Jeremy concerned. He also noticed that Nate was swimming slowly. He swam to his friend's side, and reached it in time to be hit by the shark. He was knocked to the side and the breath was knocked out of his lungs. He had to swim to the surface for another breath. Before going he grabbed Nate's arm and pulled him up.
The two broke the surface and Jeremy thrust the rope into Nate's hand. Nate grabbed it and Jeremy turned back in time to see the fin. He dove under, saw the shark, and swam forward and to the side. The shark did not seem to see him, but headed for Nate. As he passed Jeremy thrust the knife into his side.
The shark spun around in pain, and while he was distracted Jeremy swam away. Soon Nate and he were being hauled aboard the boat. They both dropped to the deck, breathless. They did not stay like that for long, however. In spite of his wounds, Nate staggered to his feet, and helped keep the boat afloat.
As the storm lashed around them, as the lightening flashed through the dark sky, and the thunder shook the boat, they all knew they were in for a long night.
***
The call of a seagull awoke them. It was shrill, and pierced the silence between then any alarm clock would have done. Nate opened his eyes, was blinded by the sunlight, and quickly closed them. He had no idea when he had fallen asleep-all he knew for sure was that it was some time after the storm had ended.
Nate wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but he knew he had to get up now that he was awake. He sat up, and groaned in pain. His leg was throbbing, his side hurt, and he felt as if he had been jabbed with a thousand needles. He cringed when he thought of how many times the shark had come close to getting him.
“Thank You for saving us,” Nate prayed.
“Doc, is that you?”
Nate turned his head and saw Jeremy was slowly sitting up. “Who else would it be?” he asked.
Jeremy moaned. “That was one wild night!”
“We have a lot to be thankful for,” Nate agreed as he stiffly stood up.
Jeremy followed his example, moaning like an old man. “Thankful that we aren't drift wood, and that your aren't shark bait?”
Nate ran his hands through his hair. “Something like that,” he said with a smile.
“I lost someones knife,” Jeremy murmured, “it is in a shark somewhere.”
Nate's smile widened. “For which I am grateful. Thank you for coming back Jeremy.”
“Who else would get you out of trouble, Doc?”
Nate rolled his eyes, and while he was rejoicing in escaping one storm, he did not know he was headed right into another.
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Anyhow, that was all. Book Five is titled Hazard on the High Seas and is set in Australia. It is the first in a four part-thingy. The next four books all go in a row.
And, here is the scene, it is the grub one that I like so well :-D THERE LAURA HE HAS A NOSE!!!!
Heather
Jessie was sitting with some of the women when D'Arcy walked over to her and sat down. He was holding something in his hand, but Jessie did not notice it at first; she was too busy braiding strains of leather together. She had no idea what it was going to be used for, but the woman had been teaching her how to do it.
D'Arcy watched her in silence, then he touched her arm to get her attention. “Jessie?” he asked.
She looked up and smiled at him. “Aye?”
He grinned, and held the bowl out to her. Jessie looked inside, and saw it was full of wiggling, white slugs. She looked up at D'Arcy, wondering what he wanted her to do with them. He noticed the look of confusion, and for a moment he looked confused to.
“Doesn't everyone know what to do with these?” he seemed to be saying. However, he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, reached in the bowl, and grabbed one of the grubs. With an encouraging smile, he placed the grub in his mouth, and chewed.
Jessie felt sick. He didna dae what I thought he did, she tried to convince herself. He held the bowl out to her again, and she knew she was in for it. Sure, she ate Nate's cooking, but eating a grub was pushing it; wasn't it? Even she would not go that far!
D'Arcy did not take his eyes from her face. He seemed to be searching for the right word; when he finally found it Jessie had to smile, it was one of the words she had taught him.
“Eat!” he declared in triumph.
Jessie shook her head. “I canna!” she gasped; she looked down at the writhing grubs again. “I dinna eat bug D'Arcy!”
The only word he understood was eat and D'Arcy. He grinned even wider, and grabbed another one. He popped that one in his mouth, and ate it happily. Jessie closed her eyes and clenched her stomach, but D'Arcy did not seem to notice her agony. In fact, he went so far as to pick one up and held it out to her.
Jessie tried to pull back, but there was such a look of delight in D'Arcy's eyes, that she knew she couldn't. He was trying to be friendly to her, and share, apparently, a rare treat with her.
“Father, I think this is the weirdest think I've e'er done,” she whispered as she slowly took the grub from D'Arcy.
The fat thing wiggled between her fingers as she held it; she looked more closely at it and saw two beady black eyes; they seemed to be looking right at her.
“I canna dae this!” she moaned, she tried to hand it back, but D'Arcy wouldn't take it. He made eating motions.
Jessie screwed up her face, held her breath, and did whatever else she could think of to make it easier. She then looked at D'Arcy one last time and whispered, “'Tis yer fault if I die!” then she placed the grub in her mouth.
At first nothing happened, it just sat on her tongue. Then, it began to move around, and she almost choked. She could feel it crawling around inside her mouth, little feet on her tongue. She almost choked, but forced herself to remain clam. She decided not to chew it like D'Arcy did, but to swallow quickly. With one defiant gulp she swallowed, and nearly lost it.
She could feel it sliding all the way down, feet tickling her throat. Once it was down Jessie closed her eyes, and fought back the sick feeling in her gut. When she opened her eyes D'Arcy was grinning at her; at least he looked pleased. All Jessie could think of was how she had a grub wiggling about in her gut.
D'Arcy held the bowl out to her again, but Jessie knew without a doubt that she could not go through that again. Without a word she leaped up, and scrambled away to get a breath of fresh air; and tried not to loose her dinner-and the grub.
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Does anyone understand the importance of dashes? No. Well, let me tell you. Ahem-according to a school book they give a longer beak in a sentance. As in when a person is interrupted, as follows.
"Jack! Would you-"
"Hush!"
Or they show were a part has been added that seems to have nothing in common with the rest of the sentance but the author threw it in anyways because they are the author, it is there book, and they can-SO THERE!
It was made out of wood-very new wood-but the year was in the 1300's.
And you get the basic idea. This is a text book explaination. Now I shall give you mine.
Dashes are annoying pests whose sole purpose in life is to bug authors to no end. They make no sense whatsoever-no matter what my schoolbook says-and they delight in torment. And-horrors of all-I have found them popping up every time I write now! Plague on them! They deserve a slow and dermantic death-
In other news. I have FINALLY bought my plane tickets, after too many problems to count. I am flying to Chicago and seeing our own VintageAuthoress (Katie) and then to Indy for a conference then to Alabama to see our wild and dearly loved dixiefiddler (Sarah). I will be gone the whole month of August, and will actually get to see what summer is like. (We have no had summer here yet-well we did have a week of it-now it is cold)
Also, I am two chapters away from completing the fourth Marshall book! I am quite delighted, now if only I can figure the fifth one out-it has been giving me trouble since I thought it up. It has a SLOW start which I can't seem to fix.
Adieu!
*Trips out the door*
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Anyhow-other then trying to break every bone in my body and kill myself on crutches, I have been doing good. It has been raining here, and it is cold-yes I know, it is June, but this is Wyoming. I have been getting cases of Cabin Fever so I go out in the rain :D
My brothers are graduating tomorrow. I plan to wail as loudly as I can-just kidding! But I have insisted we put up the picture of Willi in a dress :D. He looked SO cute, if he had not been struggling in my cousin's and my arms. My arms? Should it not be mine? My teacher said my, so I will leave my-grammer is weird. It makes no sense.
I have been plowing my way through a grammer book, taking lessons and battling colons, commas, simi-colons, and those ever so annoying and seemingly pointless dashes! But, it is helping.
I made it to chapter sixteen in the fourth Marshall book today, now that I know I make a lot of mistakes and commas I am cringing going back and editing the third book.
Oh, anyways, I should go. I have some writing to do, Sparks work to get done, and some long over due comments to answer :D.
And for Bing. Thank you :D I plan to have to 2nd book published soon! God willing! And I hope to hear from you again soon!!!
In Christ Alone,
Your friendly neighborhood author, Heather
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*Ahem*
I am pleased to announce I have finished Book Two of the Marshall series!!!! Now, once it is done being edited, which should be soon, I will be able to publish it! :D I am pleased with the out come, it turned out MUCH better then the first draft, even though I had to completely redo the plot. I am still going to try and work the old plot into another book as I still like it, it just didn't work for this one.
I was going to explain who Jason is, but I am afraid you will all think I have lost it. So, it think Jason and his funky chicken will remain classified :D
BYE!!!!
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Life is unfair, everything about it. It is unfair when you get home from work to find your brother ate all the white chocolate popcorn while you were gone. It is unfair when you stub your toe in the middle of the night, it is unfair when your dog eats your muffian. It is unfair when your computer gets hit by lightening, It is unfair when your brother can write better stories then you. But, in my travels, in my journeyings over the earth, I have found the unfairest thing...ever. It is unfair that authors have to use computers. Here are my reasons.
1. They hate us, and delight in tormenting us. They eat our stories, don't start, or over heat, they do all their crocked minds can think up.
2. We cannot take them and write outside, up a tree, by a lake, in those truly inspiring places, for Sarah and Theynore it is probably some creepy forest...
3. What looks more authorish, someone carrying around a notebook with inkstained fingers...or a laptop
4. People think we are geeks, they have NO clue there is a HUGE differance between a computer geek and an author.
5. They make us blind, yes, blind. I had to get glasses because my computer ruined my eyesight, now the ground rocks like a ship. Do you know how hard it is to be a spy and Ranger in glasses?!
So, this post is for all you authors. It is time we stood up against the, editors, and all those who insist we write on computers! We shall go on picket! We shall protest! Let's scare the world out of its boots!!! NO MORE COMPUTERS!!!!!
It is too late for me, I am stuck with glasses, but maybe there is hope for the next generation, we can save them from bad eyesight and useless troubles!!! Are you will me? Will you take up the battle? Good! Draw your sword, and RUN YOUR COMPUTER THROUGH!!!!
There, I've said my peace, I can sleep better tonight.
*Steps off soap box and disappears into the nearest forest*
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THERE'S THE SWORD!!!!! *Squeals*
*Aragorn leaps off the ship*, Orcs: Is he insane? This will be WAY too easy!
*Aragorn, Lagolas, and Gimli rush them* Orcs: You take the one with pointy ears, I want the short one. You can have the last one.
*Dead men rush off the ship* Orcs: Oops, maybe we should reavalute, I wonder if they would like to come to dinner?
*Leagos knocks the men off the Elapant* Here dead men!
Aragorn: The dead men did all the work....now what? I guess we can all go out to dinner
I am going to regret this post later, it is very unlike me:D this is what I get for swooning over a sword and eating sugar. :P I should go before I embarrise myself farther...hmmm....okay. I am leaving.
Here is a scene from my priate book, Shadow of His Wings. This is more like me :D
Oh wait! Before I leave.
Gandalf: This is the last time I leave Aragorn alone! He hangs out with strange people when I am not watching him.
Pippin: Wow! Are those, dead? Wonder were Aragorn picked them up? Are they...safe?
Okay! I'm leaving!
The ship was rising and falling on the waves, it looked almost lazy and at peace. Crisp white sails danced in the warm breeze and the blazing sunlight. She was a beauty, any man would be proud to own such a ship, and somewhere someone did. However, at that moment she was alone, lost and forlorn in the vast ocean. At least that was how Cluny put it.
“It's abandoned Captain,” Gil lowered the spy glass and looked over at his captain.
Cluny held his hand out for the glass. “All the better,” he said with a glint in his eye. He raised the glass and looked at the ship. She was English, she looked like a pleasure ship, sleek and a lovely beyond words! What he wouldn't give to stand on her helm!
The Queen Merry lurched beneath his feet, as if she was protecting him eying another ship. Cluny laid a hand on the railing and whispered, as he looked at the other ship, “She cannot replace you my Merry!” Then he called out to Dave, who was at the helm, “Set your course for her!”
Dave did not argue, but did as he was bid. The Queen Merry turned her direction and sailed toward the other ship. Once they were alongside it Cluny ordered a plank lowered; he ordered his men to wait for him, then passed to the other ship.
Cluny kept a sharp eye out as he walked across the rising and falling deck of the ship. It was a lovely morning, and he did not want to ruin it by walking into a trap; after all, what better trap for a pirate then a love, seemingly, abandoned ship? He would have bet there was gold on her somewhere, gold and jewels! This thought made him hurry on eagerly.
He slipped down into the hold and began to poke through everything. He found the room where the food was kept, but surprisingly it was empty. He searched the cabins, but they were empty as well. Uncertainty was starting to fill him when he heard a thunderous roar; something slammed into the side of the ship and caused it to rock back and forth, Cluny was knocked to his knees.
Another cannon ball hit, this one struck dangerously close to Cluny. For a moment he just knelt where he was, then leaped to his feet and fled. The ship was starting to tilt to one side, she had been hit below the water line and was now filling fast. Water slouched over Cluny's shoes, and only added to the trouble of him getting out.
When he reached the stairs he threw himself up them, and dashed across the rolling and pitching deck of the sinking ship.
He could see the white faces of his men as he ran. Another cannon ball hit and sent Cluny rolling head over heals; he cashed into the ships side. Pain shot through his arm and head, both of which had been smashed into the ship's side.
“Jump Cluny!” he could hear his men yelling as he struggled to his feet; Cluny did not need to be told. He scrambled onto the railing and leaped across the blue water. Cluny hit the deck of the Merry and rolled, crashing into his first mate, Will.
No sooner did he stop rolling then he yelled, “Get out of here before they open fire on us!”
Behind them a final cannon ball tore into the ship's side, and with a last death struggle she started to go down. Will ran to the railing and watched in horror, realizing he was the one to blame for the sinking ship.
“Before who does?” Dave asked, he was holding out his hand for Cluny.
Cluny looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Before the English do!” he snapped.
“The English aren't here,” Gil said as Cluny stood up. Another crew member was moving the Merry away from the sinking ship.
Cluny looked around the ocean, once glance and he saw Gil's words were true. “Who shot the ship then?” he asked confused.
The men looked from the sinking ship, to Cluny, and lastly to Will. Cluny raised an eyebrow, then crossed his arms over his chest.
“Will did?” he said in disbelief.
Will stepped down from the helm and stood before his captain and best friend; he looked humbled for a moment, then scowled. “It's not like I did it on purpose!” Will grumbled, “I was trying something out with the cannons, I strung them all together so all we would have to do is lite one and the others would catch. How was I to know you all were looking at a ship, or that you were on it? For that matter, how was I to know the cannons were loaded?”
For a moment Cluny lay on his back, still gasping for breath, but he was on his feet when he heard Dave yell, “Ships approaching Captain!”
Cluny ran to Dave's side and snatched the spyglass, peering though he felt his heart sink. “Will you didn't!”
Will hung his head, he suddenly felt as if he had been act very childish; stringing cannons together .
Dave had re-snatched the glass and was saying, “She's gaining on us captain.”
“Who is it?” Will asked when he saw Cluny's face pale.
Cluny rested his hand on his sword and Will was thankful he was not a violent person. Though when he spoke his voice dripped poison, “It is Harrisa Will, and I have a feeling you just sunk her ship!”
Will looked slightly confused, until he saw the ship coming toward them was an English vessel. Harrisa, a violent pirate, must have captured the ship she was in and left hers while she hid the gold. Why she did not work like other pirates and remove the gold to her ship no one even knew. But Will knew one thing, they where in trouble.
They had no time to flee before she was upon them, she stood at the railing and scowled down at them as the ship finally slipped under the blue waters. Harrisa crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Cluny who was trying to hide. Her fine silk dress billowed in the breeze, filling the air with a rustling sound.
“You are a thorn in my side Cluny,” she finally called down to the young man, “why do you see it fit to torment me at our every meeting?”
Cluny had never liked her much; he could look Black Jack in the eye without flinching, but Harrisa? The very mention of her name caused chills to race up and down his spine. She was a remarkable woman that was for certain; she stood about six feet, was very well muscled for a girl, and was about in her early thirties. Her face was brown, her eyes a stale gray, her hair was her only real beauty; it was long and silky and as black as a moonless night.
Harrisa loved luxury, she surrounded herself with silks, lace, and jewels. Her crewmen where all chosen for their looks rather then their skill; it was believed that since she herself lacked in fine looks she would make up for it by capturing nice looking people.
Cluny now bowed to her, a graceful, sweeping bow, and said, “If I have done you any harm milady.”
“None of your flattery you...” she froze for a moment; she considered her self a lady and did not like to call names.
Cluny tried to hide his nervousness, once more he bowed low. “If my presence disturbs you so madam I shall leave,” and turning Cluny ordered the sails to be lowered.
“STOP!” Harrisa yelled and stamped her foot, “one move and I will send you to Davey Jones' Locker! You and your whole misfit crew!”
“Ah, now that hurt,” Dave said as he picked up his pet rat. “I ain't ne'er been called a misfit afore!”
And he grinned at Harrisa.
That boy made her forget her manners sometimes! She could not believe she had stooped so low as to call names. Cluny was grinning at her again. “Black Jack would love you dearly if you sent us to meet old Davey!” he called and caused her boiled over with rage; her face turned red.
“My what a temper!” Cluny called clicking his tongue. He glanced sideways at Will, Will gave a slight nod of his head.
Harrisa spun around and screamed, “BLAST THAT SHIP TO PIECES!”
Will turned and lowered the Merry's sails, the caught they snapped open in the wind. Cluny ran up the helm, and grabbed the wheel. Before Harrisa could open fire the Merry was speeding away; Harrisa stood on the deck of her ship, and screamed her threat at Cluny. Her words drifted across the ocean and fell cleanly on his ears. “You will pay for sinking my ship you miscreant! I will hunt you down, I will not stop until I have made you pay. No Davey Jones for you boy! You will be my personal slave!”
Cluny glared at Will and said, “Oh good, more mortal enemies!”
Will just hung his head.
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I am spending my evenings in writing and watching Narnia and LOTR :D
Well, that is about it. Other then the creepy house and my evil computer. I almost got done with the dog fight in Misadventure on the Mountain today, when I get it done I will have to post it.
Man! Gladrela, or however her name is spelt, is rather frightening! When she wants to be :D
There, that is my post...
The End
Heather
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Remembering spring would come someday
I will lift my eyes up to the hills
Adventures from Nightshade
Book One
Heather Nicole Knisley
Chapter One...Callan's mission
The wind was whispering around the rocks as the dark clouds moved in with the intent of covering everything in a fog. Callan knelt on the hard ground, his bow taunt as he held it in his hand. He was sighting down the arrow, waiting for the man to move into view. The muscles in his arms began to ache as he waited and he started to wonder how much longer he could hold his position.
“Wait until he is in your sights,” Callan's commander had ordered. “You canna risk missing Callan, not this time.”
Callan bit his bottom lip as the words rang through his head again. It wasn't like he missed often, his commander was just an old worry wort! Well Callan would show him! This time he would hit the man right in the heart! There would be no chance of the man living!
Something was stirring by the campfire. Callan focused all his attention on that spot now, ignoring the growing ache in his arms as he watched. Yes! It was as he had hoped! The man he had been waiting for was standing up, he was moving from out behind the group of men and coming Callan's way!
Callan felt his heart start to beat faster, his hands started to shake and sweat. He forced himself to remain calm, if he lost his control now there was no telling where the arrow might go! Pushing all else aside but his assignment Callan closed one eye and watched as the man walked into the cover of the rocks, right in front of the arrow.
Now! Callan released the string and the arrow sang through the air flying in a smooth arch. Callan watched as if flew toward its target, and embedded its self in the man's arm! The moan that escaped the young archer's lips would have been enough to give away his position had not the man suddenly howled at that moment. Instantly the rocks were swarming with men, all armed with cross bows.
Arrows filled the air as the wounded man was hurried into the cover of the rocks. Callan knew he had failed, he had forgotten to calculate the wind and therefore and lost his aim. Now his only thought was getting away without getting an arrow in his own heart. Quickly he moved backwards, hugging the shadows as he slipped into the rocks.
“There!” one of the men shouted and Callan could have kicked himself when he realized they must have seen him moving. That was another thing his commander had warned him about.
“The enemy most likely won't see you unless you move. No matter what, stay still until they are not looking, then slip away!” Callan heard the sharp words as he quickly moved backwards, there was no point in staying hidden now that he had been spotted.
The wind started to pick up as the men moved in on the young man. No longer whispering it started to howl and before the strangers had any idea of what was happening the clouds had settled over the mountain in a thick, dark fog. It was that fog that saved Callan's life. As the enemy stumbled about blindly Callan leaped to his feet and ran off, he knew his way around the mountains well enough, he did not need to see to know where to go and very soon he was well out of range.
He was safe, for the time being.
***
It had started to rain, a cold bitting rain that chilled the men right to their bones. They were all huddled in their low tents when Callan stumbled back into camp, wet, cold, hungry, and very out of sorts.
“Why look whose back!” one of the younger officers called out from the safety of his tent. “You look like a drown rat Callan!”
Callan bit his lip to hold back the retort on his lips. Had the man not been an officer Callan would have decked him.
“How did it go?” one of the other men, this one was not an officer, called out from the tent he was sharing with three others. “Did you get our man?”
“Put a sock in it!” Callan snapped sulkily.
The men all hooted with laughter and one said, “Someone is out of sorts!”
“His mood is as black as those clouds!” another chimed in.
Callan glared fiery daggers at them. “Come out here and say that you yellow bellied cowards!”
The men only laughed harder, this time the officer joined in as well. Callan stood in the center of the tents and scowled, his dark eyes matching the blackness of the clouds and the fog. Had anyone of ventured out into the ran they would have met double the storms, the one from Callan would have been the worse. However, as long as they stayed in their tents and jeered they were safe, for the most part.
One of the older men spoke up, almost yelling to be heard above the rain and laughter. “Come now ye lot!” he roared. “Leave the boy alone! Canna ye see he missed his man?” And though the words were meant to be kind they did more harm then all the laughter and taunting put together.
“I am no boy!” Callan roared at the same time lighting flashed across the sky. “And I would dare any man to saw as much to me face to face!” He drew his sword and looked ready to fight the whole camp single handed when a firm voice broke everything up.
“Callan!” all the men fell silent and Callan turned with a now humbled expression to his command's tent.
The general was standing in the ran, right outside his tent, his eyes fixed on Callan. Quickly the young man sheathed his sword, then stepped forward on shaking legs, he knew he was in trouble. The commander looked him up and down as all the other men shrank back into their tents were they could not be seen.
“Come with me,” the commander said to the young man before him.
Callan moaned softly, and followed his general inside.
Inside the other tents the other men all laughed and joked together, thinking about the trouble Callan was sure to find himself in. The general was not a cruel man, just stern and rough around the edges and when one got on one of his edges they were in big trouble! And Callan had been on one of those edges for awhile now.
None of the men found out what went on in their commander's tent until midnight. It was then that Callan came stumbling into the tent he shared with two other men. Both were still awake and trying to play a game by the dim light of a burning rush. However, they forgot their game the moment Callan entered.
“Welcome back!” the older of the two men, Jettison, said cheerfully enough.
Callan scowled darkly, sat down by his cot, and yanked his boots off without a word.
“How did it go?” the other man, Cahal, asked with a smirk.
Callan yanked his wet cloak off, it had been nearly dry until he had had to walk from his commander's tent to his own in the rain. “Fine,” he growled, and hurled the wet cloak at Cahal.
Cahal yanked the cloak off his head and prepared to throw it back when Jettison stepped in the middle of them and snapped, “Grow up you two!”
Callan just scowled and pulled off his wet clothing, put on his dry things, and flopped down on his cot. He turned his back to his companions and made as if he was going to go to sleep. Cahal, however, was not going to let him get away with it that easily.
“What did he say?” Cahal asked after a long silence.
“Who?” Callan sounded like a bear when he answered.
“Fermion, the general, who else do you think?” Cahal got a warning glance from Jettison but he did not pay any attention to it.
“He said you are to be used for target practice!” Callan growled, he yanked his blanket over his head.
“Grow up Callan,” Jettison muttered, he was a patient man but no man was that patient!
Callan tossed the blanket off, sat up, and faced the two men who were still seated on the dirt floor. He sighed and decided to give in, he liked the men too much to stay mad at them long.
“I have to leave Nightshade,” Callan said, his voice was low and even though he tried to sound angry he could not hide the hurt and disappointment.
“What?” Cahal and Jettison leaned forward, shock written all over their features. They had known Fermion was angry, but not angry enough to banish Callan!
Callan sighed again and told the two men all that had passed between him and the general. “He said my arrogance was not only endangering my own life but that of the whole army, and in a way everyone in Nightshade. He also explained that we don't have enough men to hold back an invasion like this, so he is sending to Fairfield to get re-enforcements.”
“As if those desert dwellers would help us,” Cahal muttered, for a moment forgetting Callan's disappointment.
“Why Fairfield?” even Jettison seemed uncertain of it all.
“If Nightshade is taken Fairfield is the next to go,” Callan said, putting it the way Fermion had. “So he figures they will be willing to help us.”
“And you are the one he is sending?” Jettison looked at the young man before them.
Callan sighed and nodded his head. “Yes, he is sending me to a nobleman, Kallum by name. Fermion said he would help us, or at least tell us, rather me, where to go to get the help we need.”
Jettison thoughtfully nodded his head while Cahal asked, “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow, after the noonday meal,” Callan dropped his head into his hands with a moan.
Cahal looked at Jettison and saw the same look of disbelief on his face. Surely this could not happen! Not to them, or Callan! Everyone knew the risk of traveling through Nightshade, especially in these days! It was not safe to travel with the invaders hiding behind every rock, waiting to jump out and run them through.
“Will you be alright?” Cahal could think of nothing else to ask.
Slowly Callan lifted his head and, true to form, muttered, “I shall probably be killed before I get out of the mountains!”
***
Nightshade and Fairfield, though in the same land, were two completely different kingdoms. Neither was ruled by a king which accounted for most of the trouble. Another danger was that the land was the only way to get from the eastern side of the world to the western.
The eastern half of the world, the world was flat, was inhabited by the wild and unruly Sea Raiders. They lived on the small islands that were in the east, the only spots of land in the midst of the sea. The islands were pleasant enough, though some were barren and rocky and not fit for goats to live on, let alone men.
The western half of the world was not inhabited at all, at least by men. Wild beasts lived in the lands in the west, fearsome creatures that one would be glad enough not to meet in real life as they were frightening enough in the tales. It should come as no surprise that men did not live in those lands, but they wanted access to them. It was in the west that the gold lay, in the west were the riches were.
In between the east and the west was the Sea of Storms, there were always hurricanes roaring in that part of the sea. Sea monsters swam there and ate ships whole. It was impassible, and feared by any man who had any sense at all. Sailors, even Sea Raiders, didn't dare go near it.
The only way to get from the east to the west therefore was to crossed Nightshade and Fairfield, the land that lay in the middle of the Sea of Storms.
Nightshade was a mountainous country. Tall jagged peaks reached up to the sky, the highest ones were covered in snow year round. The people of Nightshade were rough, a people used to living in cold conditions and hazardous places. They were a strong people, but a little people. Though they were brave fighters they did not have many men to fight, and they knew an invasion could be fatal to them.
For years the Sea Raiders had left the Mountain People alone, having heard of their fierceness. However, the thought of all that gold just waiting for them made them bold until they finally decided to attack. Invading the land they had caught the people off guard, but not for long. Very soon an army, rather a small band of desperate men, was formed, and the Sea Raiders met resistance. Since then the fighting had never ceased.
The Sea Raiders would not just pass peacefully through a country, they would burn, destroy, and raid as they went; and the people of Nightshade were not going to let them do such things. However, they were starting to realize how badly out numbered they were. And it was as a last resort that Fermion sent Callan, the youngest man in his army, to seek help from the people of Fairfield, the Desert Dwellers.
***
Rean-Hammon, son of the nobleman Kallum, sat upon his horse and gripped the spear tightly in his hand. He felt the hot, dry wind in his face, the sun beating down on his bare head. He smiled and then dug his heals into the horse's flanks, urging him into a gallop.
Over the sand the horse raced, the sound of his pounding hoofs filled Rean-Hammon's ears as he flew over the sand. The young man counted the beats, slowed his breathing, and steadied his hand.
Now!
Rean-Hammon tossed the spear with all his might, it flew from his grasp and struck the target as the horse thundered pass. A wild yell filled the air and Rean-Hammon turned his horse back and galloped over to his friend's side, stopping in front of him.
“Dead center!” Trystan yelled as Rean-Hammon dismounted, Trystan slapped him on the back.
“Dead center?” Rean-Hammon asked in disbelief. “I was sure I was too high.”
Trystan shook his head, light brown hair fell into his eyes. “Dead center,” he said with confidence. “I'm looking right at it.”
Rean-Hammon reached out and Trystan placed a long stick in his hand. Using it as a guide the young man walked over to his target and felt the spear, Trystan was right; it was dead center.
Trystan joined Rean-Hammon and yanked the spear out for him, then handed it to him.
“Shall we go back to the house?” Rean-Hammon asked, he turned his sightless eyes on his friend.
“Might as well,” Trystan shrugged his shoulders. “I'll go after the horse.”
Rean-Hammon said nothing, just stood back and listened as his best friend darted away. Both young men were the same age at eighteen, but they were as different as night from day; not only in looks but in mannerisms.
Trystan was tall and muscled, sandy hair and pale blue eyes. His skin was rough and brown from being out in the sun and dry wind all the time. He spent his life outdoors, working with his master's horses. In every since Trystan was a true Desert Dweller and would have hated his life as a servant were it not for Rean-Hammon.
Rean-Hammon was an inch or two shorter then Trystan and not as strongly built. His hair was darker then Trystan's and his eyes were a dull gray. His father, Kallum, was one of the Desert Dwellers who had married a beauty from the mountains. In some ways Rean-Hammon looked more like his dead mother then his living father. His mother had died in the same fire that had claimed his eye sight at the young age of six; she had died saving her son's life.
It did not take Trystan long to catch the horse, he had a way with the mighty beasts which was why Kallum put him in charge of most of the training. Once the horse was caught the two young men returned to the house, rather the sprawling mansion that stood in the middle of the desert.
“I'll take your things around to the back,” Trystan said once they reached the front door. “Once I have Edam cooled off I'll come up.”
Rean-Hammon nodded his head and flung open the front door, which was more like a gate that opened upon a courtyard. The moment the young nobleman stepped inside the courtyard he was greeted with delicious, cool air. Trees, with wide leave, had been planted to offer shade and a stream flowed through the trees, bubbling out of the marble fountain that stood in the center of the place. Grass and flowers covered the ground and a white marble path led up to the front door of the house.
Rean-Hammon did not need his stick to feel his way around in that place. He had grown up playing in the stream, or sitting by the fountain as he listened to his mother read a book. If there was any place in the world that Rean-Hammon knew it was the garden his mother had planted with her own hands. She had chosen every one of the flowers, not only for their color but for their scent, and even though he could not see them he knew what color they were.
Hurrying up the path Rean-Hammon pushed open the door, trying to sneak in so that he would not have to be dotted upon by his old nurse. However, she was as quick as ever and cornered him the moment he placed his sandy shoe on the cool tile floor.
“Rean-Hammon!” He froze as she rushed over to him. “Don't tell me you were out at this time of day!”
“I wanted to practice before the sun got too much higher,” he always felt like he was eight around her rather then eighteen and nearly a man.
“You will get sunstroke if you are not more careful!” she rebuked as she pulled him inside and closed the heavy door.
“We are always careful dearest Mairi,” he said with a soft smile, he bent his head and kissed her forehead. “You know we are, don't you my dearest of nurses?”
“None of your sweet talk!” Mairi rebuked, though he heard the delight in her voice. “Up to your rooms with you before your father sees you! I shall send up a meal, and I suggest you take a bath and get out of those rags!”
Rean-Hammon knew it would do him no good to protest and hurried up the wide stairs and into his chambers. Once he was safe within the walls he shut the doors and leaned his back against them. The west window was open, allowing the breeze to come in, it felt cool on his face and carried with it the sweet smells from the garden. The smells of his mother as he had come to call them. He smiled and enjoyed the peacefulness before he went to take his bath.
Once he was out of his rough, cotton riding clothes, washed up, and into his baggy pants and loose shirt, which was made out of a thin, light cloth, Rean-Hammon did feel better. He went into the main room to finish drying his thick hair and it was there Trystan found him. As always his friend entered through the wide window, climbing the vines that grew up the side of the house.
“Is my lord all clean?” Trystan asked as he leaped to the floor.
Rean-Hammon pulled the soft towel from his head and Trystan laughed.
“What?” Rean-Hammon demanded.
“Your hair stands on end!” Trystan said between bursts of laughter.
Rean-Hammon rolled his eyes and tossed the towel at his friend, hitting him right in the face and muffling the laughing. Trystan pulled the towel from his face and sat down on the windowsill, still grinning from ear to ear as Rean-Hammon threw himself down on one of the low couches.
“You had better hide,” Rean-Hammon warned as he wiggled his bare toes into the thick, bright rug. “Mairi is bring food up in a bit, she will not be pleased to find you here.”
“Mairi cannot resist my charms,” Trystan said as he stood up and walked over to a small table where a bowl of fruit rested., he picked up a bright red fruit and took a bit. “She wouldn't dare deny me anything I asked!”
“She is going to have you thrown out one of these days, if you are not more careful,” Rean-Hammon walked over to his friend's side. “She'll tell by father and he will make you spend the rest of your days in the barns, cleaning up after the horses.”
“No, that would be too nice,” Trystan took another bit and wiped the juice from his chin. “I would stick me in the kitchen and force me to slave over a roaring hot fire with that old hag...”
“Ahem!”
Both young men turned and felt their faces redden as a woman entered the room, carrying a tray of food. It was the old hag herself, Ilsa.
“Oh!” Trystan took a step backwards as she fixed her sharp eyes on him. “How are you today? Here, let me get that for you!” And he stepped forward to take the tray from her.
Ilsa scowled and Trystan smiled charmingly, took the tray with a grand bow, and placed it on the table saying, “This is too kind of you my lady! I truly do not know what we should do without you! You take far better care of us then we deserve!”
“You have that right!” Ilsa snapped, but though her voice was hard her eyes were glowing with pleasure. No woman, no matter how old, could resist Trystan. She turned to Rean-Hammon. “Is there anything else you need my lord?” she asked with a kind look.
“No thank you Ilsa, I am sure we have everything we need,” Rean-Hammon gently clasped her hand in thanks.
Ilsa smiled, bowed her head, and left the room. Once she was gone Trystan flopped down on one of the couches and sighed heavily. “That was close,” he gasped.
“You're going to get it one of these days if you are not more careful,” Rean-Hammon warned, but he knew his words were not true. Trystan could weasel out of anything.
Rean-Hammon pulled the lid off the tray and sat down by the table. Trystan joined him and the two began to eat. There was bird, finely cooked with herbs and a almost sour spice. There was mashed potatoes with rosemary and cream, roasted onions, iced fruit, and cool cream pudding. To drink there was cold milk with the cream nearly foaming off the top.
After they had eaten they both went out onto the veranda and rested as the sun rose to its peak and the heat of the day became unbearable. The servants and occupants of the house all sought out cool places to rest until the sun started its decent.
“Do you ever want to leave?” Rean-Hammon realized he had been drifting off into a light sleep when Trystan spoke and woke him up.
“Hmm?” the young nobleman murmured.
“Leave, you know, leave this place; maybe even leave the desert?”
Rean-Hammon turned his head in his friend's direction. “Leave the desert? And go where?”
Trystan shrugged his shoulders. “Anywhere, somewhere were there is adventure and danger! Don't you ever wish you could do something exciting? Fight in battles, force back an enemy and teach him a lesson he won't soon forget, give him a sound thrashing!”
“That sounds like something Ilsa would do to you,” Rean-Hammon grinned, and then frowned thoughtfully and added, “But yes, I would like to leave and go somewhere, anywhere if it was away from here.”
Trystan leaned forward, fixing his eyes on his friend. “Why don't you then?”
Rean-Hammon jerked backwards in his seat, then leaned forward and hissed, “Are you mad Trystan? My father would kill me!”
“You're father doesn't even know you are around!” And though the words were hard Rean-Hammon knew they were true. His father cared nothing for him, if anything he hated him and blamed him for his wife's death. But leave? Leave his home, the only place h had ever known? The thought had never entered his mind.
“Where would we go?” Rean-Hammon whispered the words, knowing they were dangerous.
“To the mountains, or over the sea,” Trystan dropped his voice lower as well.
Rean-Hammon thought about that, then shook his head. “Its all well and good for me,” he suddenly hissed. “I am of age and of noble birth! But you, if you are caught you will be hung as a run-a-way slave!”
“That is why I wouldn't get caught!” Rean-Hammon could hear the excitement in his friend's voice and knew he had been thinking this out for a long time now. He felt his stomach drop down to his feet.
“Trystan,” Rean-Hammon felt his face start to drain color. “You're not planning on running away are you?”
Trystan rested his elbows on his knees and looked intently into his friend's face. “Not unless you come with me,” he whispered.
***
Callan flung his pack onto his back and looked at Jettison and Cahal one last time, the last time for all he knew. “Well, its been nice knowing you,” he muttered. “I probably won't make it back, but just so you know if I had to share a tent with anyone I am glad it was you two.”
Fermion rolled his eyes. “You're not going to die Callan,” he muttered. “Now remember what I said.”
“Head west until I reach the desert. There is a town right on the foot of the mountains, there I will be able to get directions to the noble man Kallum's house,” Callan said dully.
Fermion moaned. “Right, and do be careful Callan; try not to get too cocky.”
Callan bit his bottom lip hard, saluted his general and turned smartly on his heals; however he happened to turn on a patch of ice and was nearly sent tumbling to the ground. He left camp followed by roaring laughter.
He knew he was not getting off to a good start.
Chapter Two...Adventure in the Mountains
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Anyhow, I am back, not for good but back nonetheless. Yes me, my evil computer, and my wild and unruly characters have returned. Aren't you glad? Didn't you miss us? :D
I'm sure you all wish to know where I went, I can't tell you though, it is classifed and Jason Witiker would lock me in a cage with his funky chicken and it just isn't worth it, last time I was in there....well I won't tell you as it still gives me nightmares.
Anyhow, I am editing book three in the Marshall series, I ALMOST had book four done but I have to rewrite book two, of course, so it is put on hold till Misadventure on the Mountain is done. I am half way done already and it is turning out better, it has more of a twist which I did not think possible. (Nate just got attacked by a dog actually :D)
Other then that things have been pretty normal. I went up skiing a lot since last time, but spring is here so the lodge is closed :( Now I have to wait for next year :)
I have also been reading a lot and studying my Bible a great deal. Now I will have more messages to add to my books!
Hmm, what else? I have been tormenting Katie and Sarah, but I don't think that counts for anything. :D
Now I have to go. I will try and get on more but don't hold your breath.
“Have you ever heard of sweet Bessie from Pike? Who crossed the wide prairie with her husband Ike?”
“Will you be quiet?” Mike hissed, he was so agitated he failed to notice that Jessie had dropped her accent. “Can't you see...” He stopped talking wondering how she could not see. He was right there, standing with the man who had captured them.
The new comer was tall and broad and when he looked at Mike and Jessie the young man felt his blood run cold. The bitter glances seemed to have no effect on Jessie however, who had started singing under her breath about a woman named Bessie. He was starting to wonder if her parents had ever dropped her on her head when she was a baby, maybe more then once.
“O' course I con see,” Jessie opened her eyes wide when she looked at him. The truth of the matter was she felt a cold lump of fear right in the middle of her gut, it was leaving her with a sick feeling. However, she was not about to let the two men know that.
“What are we going to do with them now?” the new comer was asking the man with the gun. Jessie had to listen closely to hear what they were whispering.
“We could keep them in the cave...” the man with the gun began, but he was interrupted.
“And risk being found out? Are you mad!”
The man waved his gun in Mike and Jessie direction and she noticed Mike squirmed.
“Should I just do away with them right now?” he asked in a low growl.
“It would have been better had you just left them alone in the first place,” the other yanked the man's gun hand down. “What exactly were you thinking in the first place?”
“They were getting too close to the...”
That was when the new comer noticed the intent look Jessie was giving them, he quickly clamped a hand over the man's mouth. The man with the gun scowled until the new comer motioned his head toward Jessie who quickly dropped her eyes, but not soon enough.
The man with the gun scowled darkly and marched over to Jessie, Mike's eyes widened as he watched him, he looked from the man to Jessie who was doing a good job hiding her rising fear. The man knelt down in front of her.
“You have sharp ears do you?” the man asked in a low voice.
“Sharp enough,” she answered with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Sharp ears can land some people in trouble,” he leaned closer, his face was now inches from Jessie's and she could smell his breath.
“Those some people should be careful,” she replied and Mike moaned.
“A warning you should take to heart,” the man flashed the gun in front of her face as he sat back. “If you understand my meaning?”
“Loud and clear,” Jessie smiled at him, and then her smile vanished. “But ye should be warned tae.”
The man cocked his head to one side and looked at her doubtfully. “About what?” he demanded.
“I've got free from men more cleaver then ye, I've oot smarted more men, and I wull dae sae again. If ye dinna lat us gae now, I canna promise tae gae easy on ye.”
Mike rolled his eyes and the man scoffed, not realizing the truth in the girl's words. He was soon to regretted not heeding her better.
(Misadventure on the Mountain, Chapter Ten) 5 Comments Post A Comment! Permanent Link
Nate ran his hands through his hair and looked again at the speed boat. It would work for what they needed and he was grateful the man who had loaned it to them, he knew he would not be able to thank him enough. But even with the boat his mind was not at ease. Where was Alice?
Doug walked past him and got into the boat. He looked distraught and Nate was surprised he was still willing to go with them. It was obvious he would rather be searching for Alice then spending the day on the ocean.
“Are you ready Nate?” he called out.
Nate nodded his head and stepping into the boat said again, “You don't have to come.”
“And who else is going to take you out there?” Doug asked with a forced smile.
Nate sighed and said nothing, they had been over this too many times already. He knew there was no talking Doug out of it.
As Doug started up the boat and everyone sat down he looked again at Nate and said, “I have been doing a lot of thinking.” He turned the boat away from the docks and steered it out in the ocean.
“On what?” Nate asked as the wind picked up.
“God,” Doug looked straight in front of him as he talked.
“What about Him?” Nate asked eagerly.
“Do you know there is no scientific evidence for evaluation?” Doug asked then before Nate could answer added, “If there was a missing link it would have been found by now, everyone knows that. And everywhere, things are getting worse, not better as evaluation would suggest.”
“As in the human body?” Nate asked. “The body slowly deteriorates, if evaluation were true, would it not be getting better?”
“Yes, also natural selection and survival of the fittest,” Nate looked side ways at him. “If survival of the fittest be true, then many of the animals would not be around today, would it not be safe to say that the dinosaurs would have stomped out or eaten all the small creatures, like cats?”
Doug nodded his head. “And when one gets into that it opens the doors for many other things, abortion, Youth in Asa.”
Nate nodded his head in agreement as Doug continued, “As a student I saw the folly in these beliefs, but that was how I was raised. But now that I think about it, I think my main reason for believing them, was because I did not want to believe in a God who created the whole world, and then let evil enter it without stopping it.”
“God told Adam and Eve what fruit they were not to eat, He told them what would happen, and they disobeyed even so. Sin entered the world through one man and death through sin, as it says in Romans 5:12-”
“Those are a lot of verses,” Doug said softly.
Nate nodded his head. “Yes, but they are important, mind if I explain them?”
Doug shook his head slowly. “I guess not.”
“Okay then, verse 12, Therefore, just as through one man sin entered into the world, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men, because all sinned. That one man was Adam, when he sinned sin was spread to all men and all after him where born into sin, where dead in their sins, as God said, 'If you eat of this fruit you will surely die.'”
“So God punished all men because one man ate a piece of fruit?”
“Because Adam disobeyed and everyone after him has willingly disobeyed. As it says in the verse, because all have sinned. We are born into sin, there is no hope for us, man cannot save himself.”
“If what you are saying is true, why can't he?”
“We are dead in our trespasses and sins, Ephesians 2:1, And you He made alive who where dead in trespasses and sins. Dead men cannot do anything for themselves, don't you agree?”
Doug slowly nodded his head. “Okay, I think I see what you mean. So we are all dead and without hope.”
Nate nodded his head. “Yes, sounds depressing does it not.”
Doug was wary. “If you believed it, yes.”
Nate shook his head slowly and continued. “But, that is not the end of it. God sent His Law to His people to show them what was right and what was wrong. Verse 13 says, for until the Law sin was in the world, but sin is not imputed when there is no law. In between the time of Adam and Moses there was no Law and so men, though all were sinners, did not have a list of commands as to what they were to do to obey God. 'When there was no Law.' Verse 14 says Nevertheless death reigned from Adam until Moses, even over those who had not sinned in the likeness of the offense of Adam, who is a type of Him who was to come. Backing up verse 13. When it says who is a type of Him who was to come it is speaking of Jesus, verse 15, But the free gift is not like the transgression. For if by the transgression of the one the many died, much more did the grace of God and the gift by the grace of the one Man, Jesus Christ, abound to the many.
“Through one man sin entered the world and death through that sin. But God's grace is greater then that, and through one Man, Jesus, the gift of the grace abounds to many. So you see our hope is in Jesus who died for us, He is the only One who can save us, make us alive unto Him!”
Doug said nothing, just stared out at the ocean, he was suddenly grateful they were nearing the place they would be searching that day. But even when Nate and the others had gone down he could not forget what Nate had told him. Jesus, God's Son, that is what the Christians called Him was it not? He had died for mankind to save them from a sin brought on by one man disobeying.
That night Doug could not sleep, he was not sure if it was over his concern for Jack, Jessie, and Alice, or over what Nate had been telling him. What if there was a God? And if there was He would punish those who did not repent of their sins, and that would mean Doug would be sent to Hell when he died.
He had heard of Hell before, a place of eternal punishment where there was weeping and gnashing of teeth, is that not what he had been told once? But was there really a place like that, was there really a God? An God who seemed to be punishing his servants? The Marshalls and Pattersons both believed in this God, and they were both suffering for many trials. Would a God do that to them?
Doug could find no answers to his questions and finally just as dawn broke the sky he fell into a fitful sleep where he dreamed he had gone before God and was sent to Hell for his disbelief.
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