Tag Archives: creativity

Excerpt from Voice of the Dragon

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For #LineByLineTime : “Reverie”

Gerald stared out at the palace grounds from his perch on top of the dragon stables. The view was extensive from this height, but not as vast as seen from the back of a flying dragon. He sighed quietly, thinking of the Dragon Master’s words to him earlier that day.

“I know you’d like to fly with us on patrol, son, but you’re just not big enough. It takes muscle to control these dragons. You’re the youngest we’ve ever had sent to us, and even the full-grown lads had to work on building their bodies before we could even start to train them. You just have to wait and grow and learn what you can along the way. As it is, you’ll be ahead of many of the grown men we’ll get.”

Gerald remembered his argument. “But Hannah is smaller than me and she flies all the time!”

The Dragon Master had smiled kindly, if a little ruefully. “But she doesn’t control them, does she? She just goes wherever they decide to go.”

That was certainly true, Gerald thought. It didn’t bother Hannah at all to not be in control. Gerald hated not being in control. His whole life was controlled by others. He’d like to make the decisions about his life just once in a while.

A noise behind him made him turn his head just as Grunther thrust his scaly head over Gerald’s shoulder and settled its weight on the boy. Gerald froze. Normally when the young dragon got this close, he was snapping and huffing at him. But the dragon did not move, except to heave what sounded very much like a human sigh as he, too, stared out at the grounds.

Gerald dared to lay a hand on the dragon’s neck and stroked it slowly. The dragon’s jaw dipped to lay on Gerald’s chest, until a flight of dragons passed overhead. Grunther raised his chin and watched them until they were out of sight, then made a mournful sound and dropped his head again.

Enlightenment struck the boy. “You, too?” he whispered. It felt like a moment for whispers. “They told you that you were too young and small, too, didn’t they? You know just how I feel.” Grunther tilted his head just enough for his double-lidded eye to stare at Gerald for an instant before his breath gusted out in a sulfurous wind, and he dropped his head to lie across the boy’s chest again.

The human resumed stroking his companion and leaned his head against the creature he once feared. They were two of a kind after all, and understood each other. Gerald still regretted not being allowed to ride patrol yet, but at least now there was some company in his misery.

Excerpt from Voice of the Dragon

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For #LineByLineTime : Autumn

Gerald swiveled his head, taking in the brilliant colors of the trees on both sides of the road. His stepfather’s guard held his horse’s lead rope. They probably didn’t trust him not to make a run for freedom. That was wise of them.

He sighed quietly. This time of year had always been his favorite. His father would take him on overnight hunting trips out in the woods, just father and son together. His father had taught him so much on those trips. How to hunt, cook game meat over a campfire he had built himself, how to chop wood. What species the trees were, what each was best for. How to identify them by their leaves, even after they fell. How to predict the weather by smelling the wind, how to prepare for an autumn storm. Autumn had always been the most vivid time of each year of his young life.

Now he would likely never see these colors again, never feel the cool breezes, never smell the autumn smells, just like he would never see his father again. He swallowed hard, blinking fiercely before any of the guards, or worse, his stepbrother or stepfather, saw his tears. His back still stung from the last whipping.

His stepbrother was on his way to a favored position with the archbishop at the palace. He was being forced to work as a caretaker for the dragon guard, which his stepbrother had delighted in telling him meant that he would be shoveling dragon droppings from the stables and grounds. His stepfather had sneered. He believed Gerald would soon be a dragon snack, or perhaps a small pile of ash.

Voice of the Dragon: Excerpt

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For #LineByLineTime : Creation

“What are you making?” Gerald twisted his head as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at.

Hannah laid fur over the leather and picked up an awl they used for making and mending harnesses for the dragons. “It’s a pouch to hold Bestia on my back. Since she can’t walk or fly, she can get around with me. It’s like the baby bags mothers use for little ones while they work. I just have to remember to leave a hole for her tail and two for her wings.” She grunted as she tried to drive the tool through both layers. “Gosh, this is tough material! Give me a hand here!”

Gerald had never sewn anything in his life and had not been taught to mend a harness yet, much less make it. When he said so, Hannah waved away his objections. “Just drive this through where I show you. You have bigger muscles than I do. I’ll thread the leather strip through. Go, start there!” She tapped her finger on the material and stared at him.

Gerald wasn’t sure if he felt flattered she thought him strong, or at least stronger than her, or annoyed at how she always bossed him around. He sighed and punched the needle through both layers. He grinned slightly as the little girl cheered and showed him where to put the next hole.

When they were finished, his hand and arm were sore and tired, but he could now see what Hannah had been describing. A backpack with straps lay before them. He helped Hannah fit it before they added straps across the front to secure it. “Bestia!” Hannah yelled, racing toward the hatchery. “We did it! I can carry you around now!” Gerald sighed again and ran after her, realizing he would have to place the little dragonette in the pack.

The Warlord’s Heart

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excerpt for #LineByLineTime : “Competition”

“How does it feel?” the General asked.

Edward swung the sword gently. “Like an extension of my arm. The balance is perfect.”

Whether it was the cadet’s expressions, their gasps, or the whistle of splitting air behind him, he spun around and met the Warlord’s attack with his blade. The Warlord gave him no time to do anything but defend himself. He barely noticed the cadets moving to the sides of the spacious room.

The two men moved lightly across the floor, the only noise the crashing of the two great swords meeting in midair as they dueled.

“Enough dancing!” the General barked. “Fight like you mean it!”

They didn’t look around but proved they heard her by switching to a two-handed grip on their hilts and slamming the blades together with a power that made objects in the room shudder. Several cadets had their hands across their mouths, terrified of distracting the men with their cries.

“This is why I appointed Edward as an instructor in swordsmanship instead of just a student. He would kill any of you just by sheer reflex,” the General stated.

“What – what about Betsy? Why make her an instructor?” Marissa stammered.

Betsy grinned at the men. “The Warlord likes to use a short blade sometimes. It doesn’t make us equal, but it helps.”

Benedict stared at her, then switched his gaze quickly back to the duel. “You spar with the Warlord?” His deep voice almost squeaked.

Betsy nodded. “And the General, and the Royal Guard. Anyone, really, who is willing to meet me. It helps keep me sharp on assorted styles of fighting and different weapons.”

The contest continued until sweat poured off the two men and their blows slowed, without losing much power as they impacted each other.

Finally, the General bellowed, “HOLD!” and the two froze, their swords stopping just before crashing together once more. The sword points dipped to rest on the floor. The men’s chests heaved. The cadets’ mouths dropped open in shock as the duellists grinned and gripped each other’s forearm in a warrior’s clasp.

The Warlord dipped his head to Edward. “My thanks for not holding back. It’s rare to have anyone besides the General and Betsy to give me an honest workout, and they are both too short to allow me to use my broadsword the way I prefer.” He ignored the General’s rude noise.

Edward straightened his shoulders and saluted. “It would be a dishonor to give you anything but my best.”

The Warlord thumped the younger man’s shoulder. “It’s clear to see how you have survived ten years on the front lines.”

Excerpt from Project Burning Bush

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For #LineByLineTime : Dialogue

“Oh, oh, stop, you’re killing me! An STD! Oh my god, I can’t breathe! And you ask like you’re hoping I do!” Nita folded over, holding her stomach.

“What is her problem?” Minji pursed her lips, her disapproval clear.

 “I asked her if she had a sexually transmitted disease, because one of the guys said she was bad for my health. She seemed to think it was pretty funny.” Harper shrugged.

 “You can’t just go around asking people questions like that!” Luthor waved his arms as he shouted.

Harper scratched his head. “Why not? How else am I supposed to find out what I want to know?”

Luthor groaned and spoke to the sky. “Let me try to explain the concept of privacy to a kid raised by a dad who thinks it’s okay to spy on everyone’s private lives.”

Excerpt from WIP “Voice of the Dragons”

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for #LineByLineTime : “Euphoria”

“Hurry! Hurry!” Hannah threw Gerald’s winter furs and boots at him over her shoulder as she dug furiously through his storage chest.

“Why? What?” Gerald stammered as he automatically pulled the furs on and stomped his feet into his boots. His eyes ran over the furs she already wore, her hood up and snugged. Bestia flapped her wings as the girl bounded out the door. The dragonette’s claws clutched the carrier straps on Hannah’s back and her tail wrapped tightly around her waist. She cawed shrilly as she twisted her head back to stare at Gerald as if urging him to follow.

Gerald dashed after Hannah, looking around frantically for someone, anyone! to explain what was happening. The courtyard outside the stables was empty. Everyone else was out flying or at the meal.

“What are we doing?” he yelled as he chased her around the building. He stumbled to a stop as he almost ran into the giant black dragon crouched just beyond the corner. “Th-that’s the Hordemaster!” he stuttered.

Hannah whirled around and beamed a smile at him. “Yes! Bestia’s father is going to show us how to fly today! Isn’t it great?”

Gerald’s jaw dropped. “But, but, Bestia can’t fly! Her wings…and neither of us has ever been on a dragon! Much less the Hordemaster! Only the Dragonlord is allowed to fly him!”

Hannah waved her hand. “We’re not flying him. We’re just riding him. He’s going to show Bestia and me how to exercise her wings and get stronger! He said you could come along. Are you coming or are you going to pass up this chance to touch the sky?”

“But, but how do we even mount him? He’s enormous!”

The Hordemaster rested his chin on the cobblestones. His fangs gleamed as his mouth stretched as if he smiled. Hannah giggled and ran over to drop a kiss on his scaled nose before scrambling up and over his head, slinging her leg between the spines on his shoulders. Straps looped through holes in the spines behind went over and around her and she quickly tightened them.

“Coming or staying? He won’t wait forever!” she yelled.

Gerald whimpered with indecision, but couldn’t bear to look a coward in front of a little girl. He stepped slowly up to the massive head and climbed carefully onto its nose. Before he could try to climb up to Hannah’s perch, he found himself sailing through the air as the dragon swung his head around to the spines behind the child. Gerald tried to remember to breathe again as he almost fell into the space open between the big pointed bones.

“Hurry! Get your straps tied! He’s ready to take off!”

Gerald almost screamed with terror as he felt muscles bunch beneath him. He snatched at the straps and gasped for air as he struggled to make himself safe before the beast exploded into the air with a roar. Huge wings snapped open and caught the wind. Gerald felt the Hordemaster’s lungs expand and his wings beat furiously.

“Woo-hoo!” Hannah screamed. “Higher! Higher!” Bestia squawked her best attempt at a dragon’s roar.

Gerald looked down cautiously and almost fainted. The castle and town were already shrinking into toy size. He dragged his eyes back up and realized he could see for miles, further than he had ever gazed even from his father’s tallest tower. He stared in wonder, his desperate breaths slowing as he took in the sight. The Hordemaster leveled his flight and began to glide in huge circles, riding the air currents. A low rumble shook Gerald’s bones.

“Bestia! Grab my wrists!” Hannah yelled. “It’s time!” She stretched her thin arms out and the dragonette grabbed her wrists over the fur sleeves. Both females leaned forward and the wind snapped the dragon’s wings into full expansion.

Gerald grabbed their straps as they began to rise from their perch, gliding just like the Hordemaster. “Look out!”

Hannah laughed. “We’re flying! We’re flying, Gerald! Bestia is flying! It’s wonderful!” Bestia tried to roar again, her joy obvious. The crippled dragonette was finally able to feel the wind carry her body.

Gerald found himself smiling. Their joy was so clear. He looked around, taking a deep breath. His fear blew away. He felt safe for the first time since he had come to the dragon-hold, which was strange since he was so high he could barely see the ground, he was freezing in the wind, and only thin leather straps kept him from a fatal fall. But he discovered he trusted the Hordemaster to keep him as safe as his daughter and Hannah. He let go of them and flung his arms up too. “We’re flying!”

Excerpt from Project Burning Bush

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For #LineByLineTime : “Kindness”

“You are not in hell,” the Voice said, for the first time sounding as if emotion was allowed through. It almost sounded kind. “You have spent your time there. You are free now and are here because these people need you. Tell your friends your real story.  They need to know and understand. Then they will tell theirs. Speak now.”

(SKIP)

“So you and Tweety are two different people or, uh, entities?” Harper asked.

“She was desperate for relief from her memories after the attack,” the Great Spirit began. “She prayed, and I offered to block them anytime I needed the use of her mouth to speak so her tribe, and now you, can hear me. She rests while I use her body.”

“Why do you not block her memories permanently? Would not that be kinder?” Minji’s voice was sharp with anger.

“I could erase them, just like I could Luthor’s, or any of the rest of you. But those memories, bad as they are, would make you, and her, different today. Do you want that for yourselves?”

“Hey, leave Tweety alone! I like her just the way she is!” Harper’s voice was still mostly flat, but a little emotion flared in it.

(SKIP)

A sigh gusted out of her and she knelt beside Luthor. She tugged on his shoulder, trying to make him straighten up.  “Come on, get up. Get up, blow your nose again, and let’s go rescue those prisoners. Come on, we haven’t got all day.”

“Don’t let your sympathy make you do anything out of character,” Luthor growled, sniffling, then blowing his nose again.

Harper thumped his back.  “You know you’d be suspicious if she was nice to you, big guy.”  He stood back as Luthor rose to his feet on shaking legs.

Excerpt from “The Warlord’s Heart”

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For #LineByLineTime : “The Room”

Edward blinked as he took in the bedroom, filled with servants dashing about. One was lighting the fire in the fireplace. Several were hauling pails of steaming water through the room to a door on the side. Lamps were being lit beside the bed and in the attached room. He assumed it was a bathing room, judging by the steaming water. He hoped so. A hot bath and a shave sounded very good to him right now.

“This seems like a rather fine room for a mere courier,” he said with raised eyebrows. He glanced down at the dusty, cobwebbed hair of the maid who had led him to this room.

She surprised him with a nudge of her elbows. “It’s yours, don’t worry. Mrs. Grimsby is the head of housekeeping and assigns the rooms. She has a soft spot for the cavalry, since her husband and all her sons are cavalrymen. She always makes sure any who arrive get the best rooms. Try the bed!”

She tried to tug him towards it, but he fended her off. “Not in these dirty clothes! I need a bath first.”

He wasn’t about to leave marks on the fine furs covering the massive bed. It was magnificent, matching the luxurious room. Richly polished bedposts stretched toward the carved ceiling tiles, with heavily embroidered linen curtains held back with tasseled ropes. He could tell the bed would be a cozy haven when they were closed. The pillows were large and covered in silk, if his eyes didn’t deceive him.

He looked closer at the rest of the room now that the lamps had brightened the area. Finely carved furniture shining with wax polish, big comfortable chairs and side tables. There was a bar against the wall with a tray set with various glasses, a bottle of whiskey and another of wine, a bowl of fruit, a wooden cutting board with various cheeses and breads, and a set of dishes and cutlery. A maid was swinging a pothook over the crackling fire after setting a steaming pot on it. She hung a ladle on a hook beside the fire.

His eyes traveled on. Silk fabric in a rich green and blue striped pattern covered the walls. Beautiful landscapes gave the room a peaceful air. The floor was covered with thick patterned rugs over polished wood.

“Surely even the Warlord’s quarters are not so fine. This is a room fit for a king!” he whispered.

Betsy shrugged. “No. The royal quarters are far larger, and not nearly as comfortable.”

Excerpt from Project Burning Bush

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For #LineByLineTime : “Disgust”

“Firestarter stick,” Luthor replied.  “Magnesium and flint.”  The gadget went back into one of his pockets.  He carefully arranged some small logs on the growing fire before he stood up and dusted off his hands.  “Now to prepare that rattlesnake. The wood should burn down to coals soon.”

“I’m still not eating any nasty snake meat,” Nita declared.  The other three turned but could not see her. Her voice came from above them.  They backed up until they could see her as she swept the horizon with Luthor’s binoculars while laying flat on her stomach on the flat top of the rock they had stopped at.

“More for us,” Luthor said with a shrug, as he had before.  “I just think we need to stretch our supplies as long as we can.”  He looked at Harper and Minji, frowning.  “Just occurred to me, though.  Do any of you have food with you, like sandwiches or such, that might spoil?  We might need to eat it with the rattlesnake, so it doesn’t go bad.”

“I’ve got a couple of sandwiches, so I still don’t need snake!” Nita hissed quietly from her perch.

Excerpt from “Project Burning Bush”

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For #LineByLineTime “Guilty”

Minji rubbed her face with both hands. When she sat up on the log, her hands dropping to her lap, her expression was haunted. “I’m a murderer,” she whispered. “I told the seamen who rescued me everyone else had died in a storm, but I killed them.”

Nita raised her eyebrows. “You? The Dragonlady? Miss Prim and Proper? A killer? No way. You passed out after you whacked that soldier. No way you could kill your family.”

Minji’s smile was twisted. “It brought back very bad memories. Memories I worked hard to erase.”

“What, you hit your family members over the head, too?” Harper asked.

“Impossible,” Luthor stated.

“I did not attack them. I poisoned them.”

Nita paced on the other side of the fire. “Was the whole ‘boat refugee’ bit a lie, then?”

Minji shook her head. “No. We escaped my country in a boat and were carried by the current out into the ocean. My father and uncles poisoned everyone but me. But I found the poison. I was so angry. I put it in their food. They liked highly spiced food, so they did not taste it. They died horrible, painful deaths. It took them a while. When they could no longer hurt me, I dragged them to the side of the boat and threw them to the sharks. Some of them were still screaming when the sharks ate them.”

“Sounds like a good ending for them,” Harper commented. “You should be looking satisfied, not guilty.”

“Satisfied? I am a murderer, just like them! I have never wanted to kill anyone in my life! I was a child! I killed my father!”

Nita stopped in front of Minji and held the other girl’s face with tight fingers and stared into her eyes, nose to nose. “You survived. They were killers. Not you. You were a survivor. You did what you had to, and avenged the other family members they killed. You remember that. You. Are. Not. A. Murderer!”