tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61045022011-04-21T19:23:41.303-05:00Book of WhispersI have finally succumbed to the procrastinating trend and started my own NanoBlog. (www.nanowrimo.org--the most incredible experience of all time). All work contained within is (c) Tasihan_Empire or KasKade113@aol.com. All rights reserved.
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<br>NOTICE: this novel is rated... um... R (?) because of violence, sex, and adult language. That's about it. And there's not too much of the sex. In fact, I might edit it out entirely. All of the above were thrown in merely to reach the 50k...Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comBlogger621100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1078452091276586412004-03-04T20:01:00.000-06:002004-03-04T20:04:32.296-06:00wow. I've been writing a TON of Tasiha lately. I got stuck finally at a scene where she is on the Western Continent, this time without Ialio, and she meets up with a guide who will help her and the twins get to the Isle of the Gods. Ialio and Jerelet have been delayed, but they'll meet up later.
Right now I'm calling this guide Sgeam, but I think he really might be Erialk. I added him at first Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1071801223398695122003-12-18T20:33:00.000-06:002003-12-18T20:33:57.810-06:00It's nice to lay out what I'm working on. It helps me organize my thoughts. Pity it's not tied at all to BoW. I refuse to start a blog for Tbook1, as I call the books with Tasiha. That kind of story needs to stay that way--MY story, not finished, not ready, and certainly not available on the internet.Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1071714052275058892003-12-17T20:20:00.000-06:002003-12-17T20:21:06.473-06:00At this point in time, readers are probably wondering who the heck this Tasiha is.
Tasiha is my favorite main character. As you can see, she is rather special. She starts off as a foundling in a village somewhere, and a traveling mage, Ialio, discovers that she has magick--that she, too, is a mage.
Ialio is a member of the council of mages based in Kiral, the capital city of the planet Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1071698475723217102003-12-17T16:01:00.000-06:002003-12-17T16:01:30.143-06:00Words, words, beautiful words. In a dark and hurried moment, all time halted with a slap of skin, and in that meager space of existence there was nothing--nothing at all, vacancy so poignant it burned the mind.
Tasiha slid through the water, self propelled by the flipping motions of the fins she had grown and gulping in the water as air through the gills she had added to make this journey easierTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1071695879739732172003-12-17T15:17:00.000-06:002003-12-17T15:18:13.926-06:00It's two hours from my chem exam and I'm on my blog, adding whatever the hell I feel like adding.
My two friends/study buddies went to a bar because they said they needed to wind down.
I don't think they're alcoholics.
But I don't approve.
But that's just me. I can't expect them to have my same values. And they were really tense.
Still, it's no excuse. Take up yoga, guys.
I'm using a lot Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1071281427090843802003-12-12T20:10:00.000-06:002003-12-16T15:20:23.030-06:00hm... Well I can't seem to write tonight. I'm online; I'm trying to get into the classes I want at NH, but they are all full--the only two classes I want that fit into my schedule. So I'm trying over and over again because today was tuition-due day and people will be dropped from their classes, but it doesn't look like it's opening up. so waah. I need a calc, and there is one that fits, but not Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1071257947199989582003-12-12T13:39:00.000-06:002003-12-12T13:39:19.906-06:00Nothing new in the area of writing, except the original Tbook just hit 250 pages, about 75k or more, I don't remember right now. Next week is finals, and I have to study, and I also have 15 scholarships due in January--in addition to college apps and essays. Stupid essays. Stupid apps. ARGH!Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1070589922614934402003-12-04T20:05:00.000-06:002003-12-04T20:05:33.630-06:00UPDATE: Actually, if you want to drop me a note, my GUESTBOOK is now up and running. Check out the link on the side and leave me a note! yay...Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1070508601107148702003-12-03T21:30:00.000-06:002003-12-04T20:04:37.770-06:00Hey, if anybody happens to be randomly reading this... drop me a note and let me know how good/bad it is. KasKade113@aol.com. Also, if you have difficulties accessing the beginning of the story (the bottom line of the page should make reference to 1,000 word English papers and a wee bit of Bwahahaness) try messing with the archiving links on the side...
*nod*Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1070338787820222032003-12-01T22:19:00.000-06:002003-12-01T22:19:57.970-06:00Word count as of 10:15 pm 12/1/03.... 56,812.
I know we aren't counting any more, but I like to keep myself updated. Wow. that's a heck load of words. Almost 200 pages, and still a long ways to go.Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1070338487385330692003-12-01T22:14:00.000-06:002003-12-01T22:14:57.580-06:00People swarmed around them—servants scurrying this way and that, hundreds and hundreds of people sliding past each other, bowing and curtseying and nodding and calling greetings in a racket that almost hurt Morghan’s ears. It had been almost two weeks since she had last been among so many people, in New York City, and never had it been such a muddle and mess as this was.
In an instant she was Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1070140837366018322003-11-29T15:20:00.000-06:002003-11-29T15:23:56.560-06:00Just testing...
Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1070140193134517742003-11-29T15:09:00.000-06:002003-12-03T21:31:05.810-06:00All right, if anybody knows how to add:
a) a guestbook
or
b) some form in which somebody else can post comments on my site...
PLEASE EMAIL me! KasKade113@aol.com
Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1070034288144043792003-11-28T09:44:00.000-06:002003-11-28T09:44:56.976-06:00Then he grinned at Morghan and nudged his horse forward to catch up with Darok ist Navamor, who had been somewhat awkwardly ushered ahead by his guards.
The palace loomed before them—huge iron gates and stone walls, dark ebony stone walls as a harsh contrast to the airy white marble within. They were admitted, and Morghan stayed very close to Listhan as they made their way into the courtyard. Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1070034007093054572003-11-28T09:40:00.000-06:002003-11-28T09:40:15.980-06:00Weird... Occasionally when you refresh this page you get *freakin* strange stuff--like comics, or strange pics, or just weird things like lists of the times and dates I've posted, but no blog. I think the server is malfunctioning. Either that or I'm getting hacked.
Freakin weird.Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1070030949246084492003-11-28T08:49:00.000-06:002003-11-29T15:48:26.433-06:00Brand New News: *bwahaha* I've created a main blog to keep track of all my other blogs:
Tasiha's Embassy
Tasiha *is* THE main character in one of my books--my non-Nano-novel... my original novel. The one I've been working on for some 853 years. I don't know if I'll post that here--it isn't all connected yet--mostly strung out over brief explicit excerpts over the years. I need to connect it, Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1070030771885252222003-11-28T08:46:00.000-06:002003-11-29T15:48:43.996-06:00All right! My poetry blog is up: The Night the River Burned
UPDATE: My Book of Sun blog is up too! This is last year's nano, and, in some ways, it is superior to this year's. However, this year's has far less plot holes.
UPDATE:! If you have already read this ENTIRE blog, congrats to you!
however, I just updated a way back post with a new plot element--I identified the archers/bandits who Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069973257383208122003-11-27T16:47:00.000-06:002003-11-27T16:47:45.976-06:00Well, I'm going to rig some blogs for my poetry and my other stories, too. I'll put them up as links on the right, if they work. *sigh*
I don't know about this web stuff, though. My stuff should be protected by copyright, but I *still* worry. Oh well. I shouldn't. I just looked over the last half of my novel and deemed it 'mediocre at best, pure crap in other cases.' *wink*
*runs around in Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069875985710978232003-11-26T13:46:00.000-06:002003-11-29T15:49:24.403-06:00WOO! My pretty pictures work now, thanks to dear precious helpful kind gracious beautiful dashing brave and all around rocking pao.
*throws kudos to pao* Thank you! we shall forever bow to your name! *bows* WOOHOO!Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069792188052488212003-11-25T14:29:00.001-06:002003-11-25T14:30:43.650-06:00I wonder if this works, too?
UPDATE: It doesn't. *kicks it* stupid site :D :PTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069792153913256302003-11-25T14:29:00.000-06:002003-11-26T21:13:14.503-06:00“This is Lady Morghan Farishel,” said Darok loudly, and the guards all looked at her with open gazes, memorizing the details of her face. She fought to keep from blushing under such intense and multitudinous scrutiny. “Guard her as you would guard me—more so, perhaps. As you would guard the lord mage.”
“No, just as you would guard his majesty,” said Listhan, quickly, scowling. “I have never had Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069791925354663952003-11-25T14:25:00.000-06:002003-11-25T14:25:33.686-06:00And that's it. That's the 50k words, that's all I have. I want to write more, but... I... can't. It's as if there were a bar between me and the story, and no matter how hard I try I can't reach over it, or around it. I am held away from a distance.
But I can still write that. *scowl*
Ah well.Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069791867895957492003-11-25T14:24:00.000-06:002003-11-25T14:24:36.233-06:00Listhan shook his head. “I do not know.”
They settled her into the cart.
She woke by the end of the day, but would talk to no one about her experiences. She knew that it had not been a dream—but she knew that what she had seen had been important. She knew that it could come true, and she was afraid of it.
She did not want the world to shatter into dust like a fragile glass sculpture dropped Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069791777631798322003-11-25T14:22:00.000-06:002003-11-25T14:23:06.000-06:00*nano reminder: this story very well may BE a pile of crud, but it made it to 50k, and it has a long way to go. try not to mock it too much. I can't figure out how to get a guest book, so PLEASE email me your opinions. KASKADE113@aol.com*
The next day came, gray with a crown of fog. Morghan stretched and yawned from her cramped position next to the dead fire. The world was silent all around herTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069726400600200842003-11-24T20:13:00.000-06:002003-11-26T07:45:35.750-06:00Finally figured out how to post the participant's icon without the net making it into an evil little red x:
Now all I need to do is do that with the winner's icon, too, and I'll be happy!
Update:
*sob*
Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069455733940107352003-11-21T17:02:00.000-06:002003-11-24T16:11:17.603-06:00Morghan sighed, and passed a hand over her face, wearily.
“Lady Morghan—“ Darok began.
“I am no lady,” she said fiercely. “I am just Morghan. Just myself. Morghan Farishel. That is who I am. And you have to understand, Darok ist Navamor, that Morghan Farishel does not love. She does not fall in love, she does not feel love, she does not love others. She does not love at all. That word was Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069455489010698712003-11-21T16:58:00.000-06:002003-11-21T16:58:15.836-06:00The healer approached and bowed.
Morghan turned to look at him, as the king looked at him. With wide eyes.
“You can only speak the truth. Yes?” said Darok ist Navamor.
Sigatel shrugged, a broad gesture, and spread his hands.
“Let me say that again. If you answer yes and no to my questions, your answer is true, whether or not you know any relevance of the question at all.” The king’s eyes wereTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069455390809084492003-11-21T16:56:00.000-06:002003-11-21T16:56:37.650-06:00By the time Morghan had saddled and readied Lodi Blue, Sigatel was waiting for her. She swung somewhat awkwardly onto Lodi Blue’s back, and followed him, waving good bye to the guard who had dropped off from the vanguard around the carriage and waited with them.
They rode hard, Morghan wincing at the pace, until a close scrutiny of Sigatel and his horse showed that she was riding incorrectly. Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069440724516187752003-11-21T12:52:00.000-06:002003-11-21T12:52:11.353-06:00As of 11:07 pm of 11/20/03, I have an official word count of:
*drum roll*
50,026 words.
My 50,000 word was 'sprawling.'
And there's a lot more to go. *keeps writing* I'll post the rest of it when I get the chance.Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069385099524430882003-11-20T21:24:00.000-06:002003-11-21T12:51:20.746-06:00hmmm... somebody email me (KasKade113@aol.com) if they know how to put pictures up here. I want to put the nano participant pic, but it isn't working. I'm at 49,000. I'll probably finish tonight. Can't wait to print that certificate.
Well, I won't *finish*... The way I reckon (*snicker*), my novel is barely half done at 50k...
YAY!Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069302182982233432003-11-19T22:23:00.000-06:002003-11-21T16:52:07.560-06:00They did not argue with her, but something in their attitudes suggested that the name was peculiar for a horse.
Morghan rode on beside the carriage. Meanwhile, inside of it, Movik and Zerdonaral chatted, and Sigatel watched them, smiling and adding an occasional silent comment.
And Listhan dreamed…
He stood upon a dry plain—the once-green grass was burned to ash, and the world all around him Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069302064679072142003-11-19T22:21:00.000-06:002003-11-21T16:48:16.876-06:00Sigatel and Movik glanced up, exchanged looks, and moved hurriedly to the mage’s side. After a long moment, Movik said, “He’s… he’s fine. He’s just—“ he glanced up. “I think that he is in a sort of healing trance—with the first real sleep he’s had in days. It’s a natural sort of thing for a mage—they heal normally while they sleep. Only, with such a deep sleep, it is emphasized here… I’ve read Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069302028481334272003-11-19T22:20:00.000-06:002003-11-21T16:45:21.240-06:00They returned him to his comfortable position on the ground, the fire dying to embers, and Zerdonaral handed out blankets as Sigatel checked the patient one last time. He knelt beside the man and took his pulse.
“How is he doing?” asked the smooth voice of Darok ist Navamor, and both Movik and Morghan jumped. Sigatel did not glance up from his counting, but the other two men jumped hurriedly to Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301949260385322003-11-19T22:19:00.000-06:002003-11-27T16:38:16.950-06:00“Pleasure to meet both of you,” she said. “Are you both mages?”
Movik laughed. “No, no, Mihnol, no! We’re healers.” He stressed the last word. “We spent a half dozen years in school learning—also trained with Cirvosieh for some time.” He said the name as if she should know it.
“What’s Cirvosieh?” Morghan asked.
Movik laughed again, so hard that he choked.
Zerdonaral snorted, glancing at the Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301895474719572003-11-19T22:18:00.000-06:002003-11-21T16:28:57.970-06:00He was a tall, ever so slightly portly man with black, wavy hair somewhat similar to her own ebony ringlets, and hazel-green eyes rimmed in gold. He wore the same red cloak as all the other riders did, but his tunic was white and there was an emblem embroidered with golden thread directly over his heart—a crescent moon and a star, over a background of ten paler golden rings. His eyes swept over Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301845657428372003-11-19T22:17:00.000-06:002003-11-21T16:20:56.540-06:00For a moment as they reappeared, she could not orient herself. She thought they were on the stream of wind again, because there was a great breeze around her. But instead of floating comfortably, she glanced down and saw the ground, so distant, shooting up towards them.
They were falling—falling, falling away from the sky, but now as they tumbled, she could see the ground rushing up to meet themTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301809525025052003-11-19T22:16:00.001-06:002003-11-21T16:15:29.683-06:00They lay in a world full of blazing blue sky and fluffy white clouds.
They lay on an arching bridge of brilliant rainbow, filled to overflowing with flickering colors—the Rainbow Bridge, the Bridge of the Gods.
A strange, black, tall man stood before them. “Who would trespass upon the Bridge?” he boomed.
Listhan groaned from where he lay, face down upon the pebbly surface of the bridge, and Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301780406511292003-11-19T22:16:00.000-06:002003-11-21T16:14:00.323-06:00They strode rapidly through the corridors of the strange, open palace, and in a short amount of time, they stood in the main hall, where Mihnol was waiting for them—this time standing in the middle of the floor, the yellow flames on the black iron plates hanging from the sky flaring in his presence. In one hand he held a thick wand about the length of his forearm, as wide as two or three pencils.Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301724718710962003-11-19T22:15:00.000-06:002003-11-29T15:23:20.080-06:00Several hours later lances of fire thrust themselves once more through Morghan’s eyes, waking her despite her deep snuggling in an effort to prevent that decision. She sat up abruptly, looking around. This room was not hers. These covers did not belong to her—nor did this pillow. Nor was the table that stood at the side of the bed hers. Where was the coffeemaker? She had broken it, yes. But whereTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301583574963662003-11-19T22:13:00.000-06:002003-11-29T15:23:37.280-06:00The throne room was by now empty, so he hurried through the hallways and returned to Morghan’s room. He hesitated, and knocked lightly on the door, but even before he entered he knew she was still sound asleep.
He was puzzled about her illness—whether or not it had been a result of the potion—and he hoped the book would give him some answers.
He dropped silently into a chair—though instinct Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301551837036312003-11-19T22:12:00.000-06:002003-11-29T15:22:07.533-06:00After a while, the first gray hint of light began to peak in the window, and it found Listhan awake, holding and watching Morghan, and Morghan sound asleep.
He had been deep in thought the whole night. He had thought about the potion.
It was obvious to him what had happened. The potion had reached a stage of absorption. It had found the greatest evil it could in Morghan, and it had confronted Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301499887882852003-11-19T22:11:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:44:18.986-06:00Morghan was suddenly and completely tired. It had been a long day, and—she realized as she found some door, guided by Listhan’s gentle hands, and stumbled towards the bed—it had only been her second day on Mvon Terr. She had seen a dragon, ridden in a cyclone, gotten off the Rainbow Bridge—the Bridge of the Gods, Listhan had called it—been detained by the God of Love, discovered the Wind God, andTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301315053345722003-11-19T22:08:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:41:50.720-06:00Listhan glanced at Morghan. “Just a moment, please, Mihnol,” he said, and he took Morghan by the arm and drew her aside. “I do not…” he flushed, and stopped.
“What now?” she asked, slightly exasperated.
“Morghan, I don’t want you to just have to wear my cloak the whole way to Vanya,” he said quickly.
She glanced down at herself. “Oh.”
“I’m going to see if I can borrow you some clothes. Just aTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301208616278342003-11-19T22:06:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:39:13.506-06:00The wind that had gently touched the flames of the strange yellow torches on black plates that hung from the ceiling swelled instantly in a crescendo of welcoming, and the guttering candles danced and spun.
Morghan cried out as the wind struck her, blinding her—instantly, she existed solely as a black speck driven by a flaming white force all around her, like the dark air stream that had made upTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301145281842932003-11-19T22:05:00.001-06:002003-11-21T13:35:58.556-06:00Something glittered near the base of the mirror. She reached out a hesitant hand and picked up the sparkly object.
It was a ring, a thick heavy signet ring with a large, smoky, twisting fiery black opal with strange symbol carved into it. Compelled, she stared at its twisting surface, and lifted the ring to her nose. It smelled smoky and hot and good, like the beginning of flame, like the embersTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301106853806062003-11-19T22:05:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:34:43.976-06:00She caught a glimpse of memory in her mind—she and Listhan, seated by a campfire—her first night in Mven Terr—and remembered what he had said to her. “Famine?” she said quietly, in remembrance, loud enough for the group of gods to hear her but not really aware of the fact. “Isn’t that—doesn’t that sound like what you said had happened on Mvon Terr, Listhan? Doesn’t it sound… I don’t know… chaoticTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069301001210150492003-11-19T22:03:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:30:35.980-06:00She flushed slightly, and turned her head away.
Varys looked up and caught Listhan’s eyes, jerking his head slightly.
The mage left Morghan leaning against the parapet, considering the eternal blue of the sky, and followed the god to one side.
“Have a care with her, Listhan Avres, Lord Mage,” said Varys quietly. “She has been hurt by something great, and you,” he thrust a finger against the Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300936083329902003-11-19T22:02:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:27:43.606-06:00He pulled away suddenly, and spun her around to face him, and there was surprise, even fear, in his dark red eyes. “You taste of power,” he said, louder than all the words they had spoken so far, in shock, in fear, and then he fell into her liquid green eyes and followed her most recent memories—the cyclone, spinning, rising, and the jerked-to-a-halt, stopped in the tracks feeling… and Listhan.
Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300859817817372003-11-19T22:00:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:25:19.703-06:00**********
As they twisted and soared into the sky, chasing each other around the huge column of wind, clutching hands together, something jerked hard against the spell, and the column of air collapsed.
Listhan gasped a few words, to no avail.
They hung for a moment midair, surround by clouds, unable to breathe or speak.
Then something came up behind and hit them, hard, and both lost Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300746819790272003-11-19T21:59:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:22:58.033-06:00Morghan went very still.
Listhan’s hands waved in the air. He winced as he moved his bandaged arm, but he did not cry out. Instead, he began to whisper into the air—strange words, burning words, words that spelled themselves out in smoke and silvery outlines from his lips, strange symbols that twisted and warped the very air around them. They hurt her eyes to look at—the raw power in them, like Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300717877422192003-11-19T21:58:00.001-06:002003-11-21T13:20:35.033-06:00They continued on their way the next morning. Evirik Windseer had been right—they did not have far to go before the path ended as a myriad swirl of rainbow colors hanging midair, filled with and radiating a great, brilliant light.
Listhan studied it for a moment. “We will go through. But you need to hold onto me.” She obediently took his hand.
He sighed, and looked at the portal. “I am afraid Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300684666574732003-11-19T21:58:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:17:41.693-06:00A dime plummeted through the brilliant blue world, a silvery spinning mirror that reflected the sky and the clouds that surrounded it.
Momentarily, it disappeared in a puff of white cloud, only to emerge again on the other side.
Morghan watched it fall, the silvery pinpoint plummeting away from her. She stood at the very edge of the bridge, staring down until she could no longer see the dime. Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300651200219202003-11-19T21:57:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:14:58.273-06:00******
His breath coming in ragged gasps, the skinny man with dark eyes and dark hair knelt on the hard cobblestone floor, his head bowed. He trembled in anticipation of a sharp blow, but none came.
“Tell me what happened again, Bladewing,” said the smaller man at whose feet he knelt. He sprawled half sideways in a chair, his feet propped up on the table before him.
Bladewing took a deep Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300608119173832003-11-19T21:56:00.001-06:002003-11-21T13:13:00.573-06:00Chapter 2
She stared at him, and gave an exclamation of surprise. “That was it! It must have been! Was that why—“
Listhan leaned forward urgently again. “Did he take the drink from you?”
“Well, he tried to, but… No. He… I wouldn’t—“ she flushed. “You see, he followed me, and he grabbed my cup, and I jerked it away and it… it… well, it shattered.”
“On the sidewalk?” Listhan went pale, staring Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300577146118332003-11-19T21:56:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:10:25.903-06:00Her lungs expanded, and Morghan sat up coughing hard, choking on the breath that roared into her, amazed at life. She had thought she had died in the burning dark stream of wind that had devoured her.
She gasped in air and her esophagus objected with a fresh burst of coughing that clenched her diaphragm and made her double over from where she lay on the ground. She was aware of nothing but the Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300521521689922003-11-19T21:55:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:07:23.796-06:00Listhan tore through the streets—dusk was upon him—born upon a cloud of his silvery power, searching, following the bright trail of red footsteps that he had summoned to mark the way of his quarry. He searched speedily and without interruption, for the disturbances of the night could not touch him in his heightened state of power.
Eventually, he rounded a corner, and stopped.
Here was his Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300497670680482003-11-19T21:54:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:05:54.920-06:00The door to Madame Mihoukatani’s opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered man with long blond hair tied back at the nape of his neck swept inside. He wore a huge, billowing trench coat like a giant robe upon his enormous shoulders. Under careful inspection, the black robe glimmered with embroidery and tiny crystalline beads, silvery threads, and white symbols and markings.
He stepped on surprisinglyTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300394716960622003-11-19T21:53:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:05:36.330-06:00There was something strange in the world. It was as if all the voices and all the sounds around her—the natural, typical sounds of New York City, the sounds of a million cars and a million voices all at once, of life and of living—had dimmed… had faded, until they were barely even murmurs in her ears. Instead of that typical hum and drum of steps, she heard a keening—a high-pitched shrieking in Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300284464327182003-11-19T21:51:00.000-06:002003-11-21T13:05:02.156-06:00She thought of Raphael, then, and a cold feeling wrenched within her stomach, the same as it always did, thinking of him. Unconsciously, her fingers went to the scar on her arm—a long, jagged, poorly healed wound from the night she had left him.
“Bitch!” he had screamed, his dark eyes wild, his blond hair swinging as he struck. “You stupid fucker! I’m everything to you!” and he had hit her againTashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069300232785064442003-11-19T21:50:00.000-06:002003-11-24T20:36:49.070-06:00Chapter 1
Jello. Red-tinged, mostly clear, wiggly giggly jello. Only this kind of jiggler was impossible. Morghan Farishel poked the three-story high wall of jello that spanned the whole street with one finger. It didn’t feel wet, and it didn’t feel like jello.
It felt like the wind, pushing against her—a great, gusting wind that made every pore tingle and keen with that high keening in her Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069299658917528302003-11-19T21:40:00.000-06:002003-11-21T12:53:03.633-06:00I will be periodically updating here with my story. Actually, I will be frequently posting my story here. I hope it doesn't do it backwards. Let me see.
Dang. It does it backwards.
Oh well.
Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104502.post-1069299596515730492003-11-19T21:39:00.000-06:002003-11-19T21:40:03.100-06:00So here we are. My brand spankin' new Nanowrimo blog. For those who don't know--and you should!--nanowrimo (www.nanowrimo.org) is short for National Novel Writing Month. It is a site that challenges aspiring writers to write 50,000 words in 30 days--to write without editing, without deleting, without worrying about content. It is a site that says for once, quantity comes before quality.
This is Tashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871581076638898272noreply@blogger.com