This is just a random short story I wrote back in February.  Hope you enjoy!

I walked into the lobby in front of the auditorium where I was going to wait for my brother.  The rain outside was coming down in bucket loads.  People were running to their cars, holding whatever might possibly shed water over their heads.  I tapped the small umbrella I was holding against my leg.  I hadn’t been able to find my own umbrella that morning and had ended up using my little sister’s.
 Brian, my brother, came up behind me.  “Coming down pretty hard, isn’t it?” he said.
 I nodded.  “Yeah.”  Brian was seventeen, two years older than me.
 “Hand me the umbrella.  I’ll go out and bring the jeep around to the front.  Why you wore open-toed heels on a day like this is beyond me.”
 I smiled to myself as Brian headed out the door with the little, polka-dotted, pink handled umbrella.  Only weather like this would be enough to get him to actually carry it above his head for everyone to see.  I looked down at my feet.  Brian was right.  I should have worn my boots and carried my heels to change into only for the concert.
 “Well, look who’s here.”
 My shoulders stiffened with disdain at the smooth voice, which came from behind me.  It belonged to Randy McClellan, my nemesis.  What I wanted to do was spin around and give him the hardest backhand he’d ever had in his life.  But I was wearing my heels and concert dress, a pretty thing of blue satin that all the old ladies cooed over endlessly, so I merely ignored Randy.
 He walked around in front of me.  “You doin’ anything tonight?” he asked after whistling at my appearance and making me want to spit in his face.
 I knew where this was going.  “Yes.”
 “What?”
 I could not lie.  “The laundry,” I admitted.
 “Aww, Angela,” he said, shaking his head.  “You shouldn’t have to go home and do the laundry; not after ending up being the star of your first major concert and getting the only standing ovation in the entire program!”
 I clenched my fist hard.  I did not mind compliments, but this was flattery, which I despised.
 “No, a brilliant singer like you shouldn’t be doing the laundry at all,” Randy continued.  “Why don’t we skip the laundry, just for a night.” He smiled indulgently.  “I’ll take you out.  It’ll be fun!”
 “Randy,” I said stiffly, “You should know by now that I don’t go out.”
 He leaned against the wall.  “Why don’t you start?”
 “Because I won’t let her,” said Brian’s voice.
 I had never been so glad to see my brother.
 “Why won’t you?” Randy asked Brian, supporting himself against the wall with an arm.
 “That’s my business, not yours,” said Brian.  “Now back off.”  He brought a heavy hand down on Randy’s arm, knocking it down and causing Randy to fall against the wall.
 Randy, regaining his balance, looked out the glass doors at the jeep and smirked with disdain.  The jeep was a beat-up looking thing, but Brian, who had gotten it from Dad on his sixteenth birthday, which was just over a year ago, couldn’t have loved it more if he was married to it.
 “You goin’ home in that old junk pile?” Randy asked.
 “‘That old junk pile,’” I said rather angrily, “has 4-wheel drive and can get through our muddy driveway without getting stuck, unlike your sports car.”  I took Brian’s arm, and we headed out the door, Brian somehow managing to cover both me and him with the tiny umbrella until we got to the jeep.
 “Thanks,” I said to Brian.
 He grunted as he stuck the key in the ignition and started the jeep.  “Randy is right about one thing,” said Brian as he looked both ways before driving out of the parking lot.  “A girl who has just gotten a standing ovation in her first major concert shouldn’t have to go home and do laundry.”
 “What do you propose I do?” I asked somewhat grumpily as we bumped out onto the road.  “Go out on the town with Randy?”
 Brian smiled. “That’s what he seems to think, but no.”
 “Well?”
 “You do know Aunt Jennie gave me a gift certificate to Olive Garden?”
 “Yeah.”  I was finding myself very confused.
 “And told me to use it to take some girl out.”  Brian wrinkled his nose ever so slightly.
 “I didn’t know about that part.”
 “Mm.  Well, she’s visiting again soon, and if I tell her that I haven’t used it, she’ll give me her ‘You Must Start Looking for a Proper Wife’ lecture, which I don’t want to hear.”
 “Are you asking me out, Brian?”
 “More or less.”
 I sat back in shock, then turned to Brian. “But I still have the laundry.”
 “No, you don’t.  I already called Mom.”  Brian tapped his cell phone.
 “Oh,” I said.  This was not what I had expected.  For the moment I offered no protest, knowing that my brother, if he wanted to take me out, would take me out whether I really wanted to go or not.  I kind of wanted to go home; I had left early this morning and hadn’t been there since.              
 Brian and I had been in what could be called a music festival.  Auditions for it had been going on for some time, and the performers had finally been chosen.  Brian, who played the piano, had performed this morning.  I was among the vocalists, and my performance had been in the evening, but I had come in the morning with Brian, wanting to hear the entire thing.  “But it’s raining!” I had just played my last card against not going out.
 “Well,” said Brian, “It won’t be very crowded then, will it?”
 I sighed heavily. I was trapped and I knew it.
 We cruised down the road, hitting several deep puddles, sending water flying up on either side of the jeep like wings.  Brian was driving firmly and aggressively despite the weather, but I wasn’t worried.  He was in his element and had the jeep under perfect control.  It was a rather dark and dismal night, and the bright lights in the restaurant windows cheered me.  We were almost the only ones there.  We were seated at a table near the fireplace.  I slid my heels off under the table; wearing them all day was starting to hurt my feet.
 “Did you enjoy yourself today?” Brian asked as we waited for our order.
 “Yeah.”  A waiter came by with our drinks.  “I don’t think I’ve spent so much time surrounded by so much music.”
 Brian took a drink of his Dr. Pepper.  “Neither have I.”
 We discussed the concert while we ate.  It was a slow dinner, no rush to do anything or get anywhere.  When we were finished, we went over to the fireplace, sat on the hearth and just talked.  To anyone coming by, it would have sounded like we were speaking in a foreign language.  We were talking in major and minor chords, and how diminishing this affected that, and a host of other things only found in music theory.
 Looking back, I realized that the conversation surprised me.  Brian had always been the one who chased me with arachnids, reptiles, and amphibians.  He was the one whom I vied with for time on the computer.  He teased me and played practical jokes on me.  I had wanted to strangle him more than once.  Neither of us had realized that there was at least one thing we had in common: music.  We both loved it, studied it, and tonight we had both performed it.
 Brian had stopped talking for a moment, and I pulled up my knees and rested my chin on them, thinking.  Before I quite knew what was going on, a waiter had leaned over Brian and said something.  He grinned, grabbed my hand, and half dragged me over to the end of the room where there was a piano.  Next thing I knew, he had tucked me neatly into the curve of the baby grand and seated himself on the piano bench.
 The restaurant manager jumped up beside me with a microphone.  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, and I realized that the place was now quite full,  “These two young people preformed at the Music Festival today, and they are going to give us a song tonight.  Please welcome Brian and Angela Walters.”
 
 Applause came from the diners as the manager handed me the microphone.  I turned to Brian, and he winked at me, mouthing the name of a song.  Then he started into it as the room grew quiet.  I never remembered singing the song, although I know I did.  Neither Brian nor I had really paid attention to each other when we were practicing, but now, as we performed together, we began to see each other in a new light.
 Clapping broke me from my reverie.  Brian and I took our bow and left the small stage.  I picked my coat up off a chair and we left the restaurant.  The rain had slacked off to a quiet, sleepy drizzle.  Brian and I climbed into the jeep. 
 “Brian?” I asked, as we got on the road to go home.
 “What?”
 “Will you be my accompanyist?”
 Brian smiled.  “Sure, so long as I get to hear you sing.”
 I returned his smile.  “You will.”  I drifted off to sleep.
 
 I sat in a chair backstage, my heels beside me, waiting for the signal that would send me out onto the stage in Carnegie Hall. 
 “It’s nearly time,” someone told me.
 I slid on my heels.
 “Why you would wear open-toed heels on a night like this is beyond me,” came a voice from behind me.
 “It’s formal, Brian,” I said to my brother, laughing.  “But I did bring my boots.”
 “Smart girl.  It’s raining.”
 Our signal came, and we headed out onto the stage to thunderous applause.  Brian tucked me into the curve of the grand piano, as was his habit.  I made sure the small microphone that was slipped over my ear was on.  Brian and I exchanged a quick glance, confirming our song, and Brian began to play the introduction as the audience quieted.

This is just a quiz to see if other authors are affected by writing sprees like I am.

When you are on a writing spree, your room...

A. Goes to shambles unless I'm are really careful.

B. My room is always a shambles, so I wouldn't know.

C. Is neat and orderly, as usual.

Your manner of speaking is...

A. Affected greatly!  I start talking like my characters and begin making wierd illusions to obscure events that only I would know about.  I have to be careful!

B. I always talk like my characters...or my characters talk like me, so I couldn't tell you if I'm affected or not.

C. I continue talking normally.

Your manner of dress is...

A. Affected.  "Ooh!  If I match this shirt with these pants and this...and this...I look like _____ from my story!  YEHES!!!

B. Different as usual.  I dress like my characters all the time, so I don't know if writing sprees change my garb.

C. Normal.  I do not intend to go to the supermarket looking like _____ from my story, however cool he/she may be.

Everything else falls by the wayside to make room for your writing??

A. Yes, but I catch up after the spree is over.

B. Everything besides writing is by the wayside at all times *koff*.  He, he.

C. No, not at all.

Mostly A's -- You're alot like me :).  You don't live in your story, but it doesn't take the backseat either.  During an intense spree, when you're getting a whole lot of inspiration you're libal to forget everything else and go off and live in your book.

Mostly B's -- As far as I can tell, you live in your story at all times. Pretty exciting life!!

Mostly C's -- You may be a passionate writer, but your writing doesn't effect your behavior.  You may create a world, but you don't seem to live in it so much.  Not that that's a bad thing.  :)

It would be amazing if you told me what results you ended up with, I'm curious!!

Translated From Sarconian Annals - Draft Volume II

Translated From Sarconian Annals - Draft Volume II

Crystal stood in the center of the palace hall, motionless, watching as the messenger walked out the door.
It's not possible, she thought.  It isn't right, it isn't fair!  It didn't happen.  I can't believe that it did.  It's just a rumor, not truth.  Crystal continued lying to herself, trying to hide from the reality that had just slammed down on her head like a great, collapsing mountain.
What had happened to her up to that point had seemed like some strange dream.  She and her brother had been snapped up by the enchantress so fast that they hadn't even known what happened to them.  One moment they had been standing in the forest; the next they were standing in a strange castle.  Frantic exploration of their new surroundings had shown them that they only had access to two rooms of the castle; all other doors were locked.
Even when the enchantress began testing spells on them, events seemed like a surreal nightmare.  Reality had begun to creep in, however, when the enchantress somehow altered Walker's looks.  Until that time, Walker and Crystal had looked quite the same; same mahogany toned hair, same green eyes, same lack of height.  It had taken her some time to accept that the tall, frightened boy with dark brown hair and vividly blue eyes that stumbled in the door was her brother.
She had at first avoided him, terrified by his advances as he tried to sit next to her, hold her hand, or hug her.  When he finally spoke to her, she had screamed when she realized the voice was Walker's, then attacked him, demanding to know where her brother was.  Walker had replied that he was her brother, whether he looked different or not.  Fear had changed to anger, and Crystal, wielding a table knife, tried to push him off the balcony, believing that this strange person had murdered Walker.
Walker stopped her, but Crystal's inability to recognize him at all nearly broke his heart.  He carefully avoided his grief-crazed sister and found a corner, where he sat down and cried.  Crystal, miserable and confused, let him be.  Later, after Crystal had gone to bed, Walker slipped into the room and sat down on the edge of the couch where she slept, softly calling her name.  In the dark, without looks to confuse her, Crystal recognized Walker, asked him where he'd been and if he'd seen that strange boy who was pretending to be him.
Walker had then explained everything that had happened.  Crystal lit a candle and saw that what he had told her was true. 
"I'm sorry," she told him, "but you were running around in a different body, and I didn't realize it was you."
Walker had laughed and told her that when he had seen himself in a mirror he had screamed loud and long, then hid from the mirror behind a tapestry.  Hepsiba had been thoroughly amused by this and took the passageways with the most mirrors on the way back because they terrified Walker.  "That was why I was so frightened when I came in the door," he had said.  "Don't tease me if I spend most of tomorrow sitting in front of a mirror; I need to get used to myself."
And so that terror passed, and Crystal had slipped back into her dream state.  
Another jolt had come when the enchantress had tested a spell on Crystal.  Hepsiba, like most enchantresses, was determined to be the most beautiful creature in the world.  She had made a beauty potion for herself, but she was already good-looking, and sometimes beauty potions made people who were already beautiful very ugly.  So Hepsiba, seeing that Crystal was already good-looking, had forced her to drink the potion.  It had worked properly, to Hepsiba's delight and disgust, for she now feared that Crystal would be more beautiful than she.
Poor Walker had received quite a jar when Crystal had been slung into the room by the cross enchantress, stumbling into him and knocking them both to the floor.  It was only the day after Hepsiba had altered Walker's appearance; Crystal, not yet adjusted to her brother's new looks, had screamed.   Walker, quite stunned by his sister's ravishing appearance, had screamed as well, running backwards across the floor like crab and sitting heavily on the floor, mouth open.  Crystal had gone fumbling for a mirror, saw herself, and promptly went running for the safety of her brother's arms.  But the shock of that had passed, and they had adjusted to what they looked like.
Why the flying spell had been cast on them neither knew, but when the pegasus spell had been cast on Crystal, neither of them had been horribly surprised, now used to altered appearances.  Their escape to Elfarven and the rescue of Nibor had seemed like a fun adventure, as had the other events until now.  Suddenly, the dream had come apart. 
Crystal knew all too well that she could not adjust to Alec and Thera's deaths like she had adjusted to Walker's altered appearance.  Even though he looked different, her brother was the same person he had always been.  The looks of the Walker she had grown up with were gone, but Walker himself had remained with her.  Now it was different.  Alec and Thera were gone, and it wasn't a change in appearance.  They were dead, and Crystal knew that she would not see them again until after she had gone on.  It was a reality that she could not ignore; she could not slide back into her comforting dream world where everything was either right or would become so.  Suddenly, she was filled with an immense longing for her home, family, and a simple life without all the complications she now faced.  She just wanted to leave it all behind, though she knew that she could not.  Footsteps sounded behind her.  Blinded with tears, Crystal turned and flung herself into a comforting embrace, happy that Walker had come along at just the right time.

Argon was rather shocked when Crystal turned and flung herself against him, crying.  Not that he minded that much, but it was very unlike Crystal to act in such a manner.  He immediately knew that something was terribly wrong.  He became even more concerned when her grief, instead of gently quieting, began to accelerate.
The hysteria of her sobs left her gasping for breath, and she starting shaking uncontrollably.  Finally she drew a ragged breath.
"Are they really gone?" she asked.
Argon hesitated, wanting to tell her no, but also knowing that he could not lie. "They are really gone," he admitted to her.
She started sobbing again, more wildly this time, then buried her face in his shoulder, muffling broken-hearted screams.  He held her tightly, trying to support her slowly collapsing form,  not certain of what to do to help her.  Between screaming and crying, Crystal could barely draw a breath, and her energy quickly spent itself.  Her sorrow abruptly quieted as she fainted against him.
Picking her up, Argon carried her to her room and laid her on the bed.  Crystal moaned softly and appeared to have gone to sleep.  Tears trickled out from under her closed eyelids and she moaned again.  Argon dropped to his knees beside the bed and ran a hand through her hair, almost in tears himself.  Not even sleep is an escape from your sorrow, Crystal,  he thought sadly.
Walker entered the room silently and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking his sister's hands in his own.
"Is she alright?" he asked Argon quietly.
"I don't think so," Argon replied.
 
Crystal remained mute for days.  When she finally began to speak again, she was given to outbursts of anger.  When asked a question, her answer was short and cold.  If she asked a question herself, she would quickly become cross if she thought that it was not being answered properly or quickly enough.
Walker tried to do all he could for his sister, but much was demanded of him, and he did not have all the time he would have liked to devote to her.  Palace life was very slow for squires, however, and Walker had Toran look after Crystal to an extent.  He could have given Toran few challenges that were more difficult.
 Crystal often made it clear that she resented the presence of others, even Walker or Argon.  Any attempts they made to draw her out of her darkness were repulsed with short words barely controlled anger.  And so it was only expected that Crystal would resent the presence of Toran even more, no matter how respectful and considerate he was.  He continued to shadow her loyally, however, something that made Crystal all the more furious.
 
Crystal heard footsteps other than her own as she walked through the hall of the palace. "Toran!?"
Toran sighed and stepped out from behind a pillar, missing the days when Crystal's voice was gentle, for now sharpness never left it. "Yes, my lady?"
"Why must you continue following me?"  Crystal folded her arms crossly.
"Prince Walker told me to," Toran replied quietly.
"Well, I am telling you not to.  Go away."
"I cannot disobey my master."
 Crystal's eyes flashed angrily.  In the back of her mind, she knew it would be best to control herself, but the part of her that didn't care about what she did was far too dominating.   She slapped Toran and stalked off to her chambers.  A soft voice within her whispered softly that if she would simply admit that she needed support, her friends and family would be very happy to provide it.  But she still refused to admit obvious weakness, saying to herself that she was strong and could handle the matter herself.  The voice within her spoke up again, telling her that she was not handling the matter very well.  She ignored it.  Sitting down in a chair, she stared out the window for hours.
It was growing dark.  The door opened and someone entered the room.  "So, being angry and lashing out at everyone is going to make things better?"  Walker's soft, slightly sarcastic tone of voice echoed with truth; truth that Crystal didn't want to face.
"Why can't you just shut up and go away, Walker?"  Crystal asked crossly, not looking at her brother.  "You seem determined to poke your nose into my life, watching my every move.  And when you can't do it, you send your squire.  Leave me alone!"
"I am not going to do that."
Crystal jumped to her feet and whirled to her brother.  "Why not!?"
"Because this is not a time when you need to be left alone," Walker told her gently.
"And how would you know?" Crystal scoffed.
"What good has being so alone done you?  You've turned into an angry, sullen girl.  I hardly know you!"  Walker came over to her.  "Come out of your shell and accept some help with your grief."
"I am out of my shell!"  Crystal turned her back to her brother.
Walker put his hands on her shoulders.  "Crystal..."
"Don't touch me."  Crystal shouldered his hands away.
"Do you think Alec would want you to react this way to his death?" Walker asked, folding his arms.
Crystal spun around.  "SHUT UP!!"  She tried to slap Walker, but he blocked the blow.  Catching both her wrists in one hand, he held them in a vice grip.  Crystal began to squirm.  "Let go of me!"
Walker put his other arm around his sister's waist.  "Listen, Crystal.  You've acted like this long enough.  We are going to talk sense, and we are going to talk it now."
"You can't make me!"
"I can, and I will if it's necessary," Walker said firmly, deciding that he had held his peace for far to long.
"You just try!  I'm not going to talk to you!"
"Alright then.  Have it your way.  Don't talk to me, but I'm talking to you.  Now."
"No, you're not!"
"Listen, Crystal.  You know that Alec and Thera were followers of the Lord, just like you and I.  And for us, there is no real death in death.  They leave this world, but they go to be with the Lord forever.  You know that.  Would they want you to grieve like this because they have entered such happiness?"
Crystal avoided her brother's eyes.
"You know what I'm saying is true."
"Be quiet," Crystal responded.
"Ah, ha.  It's your pride, then.  The fact that you don't want to admit weakness.  You want to show us all that you can handle this on your own."
Crystal sighed.  Sometimes her brother could see through her like he could see through a windowpane.
"You know, Crystal, you're just making yourself look like an idiot by behaving like this."
"I am?"
"For the most part," Walker reaffirmed as gently as he could, his lecture finished.  He let go of her wrists.
Crystal laid her head on his shoulder and let the tears that she had held back for so long slide gently down her cheeks.  It made her feel better.  She had forgotten how comforting a hug could be and berated herself for doing so.  Walker hugged her for a while, then rubbed her shoulders and asked, "How long as it been since you went out flying?"
"Longer than usual," Crystal replied.
"Well, why don't you go fly.  It'll probably make you feel better."
Crystal nodded and jumped out the window, morphing into a pegasus as she did so.  She soared through the air, feeling her sadness fall behind her.  

I'm sitting at my computer, staring at a 56,410 word novel, and it isn't even done yet.  If you had told me three years ago that I would be working toward publishing by first fantasy novel when I was fifteen, I would have laughed in your face and told you to get your head examined.  Yet here I am, typing as if my life depends on it on a story that has gone places I never would have imagined.

When did it happen? 

When did this story go from a tale that I wrote on for personal enjoyment to a novel that I want to publish?

When did the characters leap from where they sat in my head, forming, and become what they are now?

What happened to my little fairytale?

As I near the end of working on 'Sarco' I feel like a mother who is watching her firstborn pack up his room and prepare to leave home...forever.

I thought that I would be maniacly triumphant.

Instead, I'm on the verge of tears.

A few more months to write.  To edit.  To give as much perfection as I can before my adventurous young story goes off to face the world.  A world which is not always easy on books.  And there's only so much that I can to prepare my budding novel to face it.

Don't get me wrong, I am happy.  There is a sense of accomplishment.  But whoever thought a book could leave a hole in my heart as it prepared to leave?

Okay, here's the promised preview of Chapter Twenty-Four.  In a few weeks I might also post a preview chapter of 'Sarco', which has undergone editing through the entire book and some plot change in the earlier part of the book.

~~~

What had happened to her up to that point had seemed like some strange dream.  She and her brother had been snapped up by the enchantress so fast that they hadn't even known what happened to them.  One moment they had been standing in the forest; the next they were standing in a strange castle.  Frantic exploration of their new surroundings had shown them that they only had access to two rooms of the castle; all other doors were locked.

Even when the enchantress began testing spells on them, events seemed like a surreal nightmare.  Reality had begun to creep in, however, when the enchantress somehow altered Walker's looks.  Until that time, Walker and Crystal had looked quite the same; same mahogany toned hair, same green eyes, same lack of height.  It had taken her some time to accept that the tall, frightened boy with dark brown hair and vividly blue eyes that stumbled in the door was her brother.

She had at first avoided him, terrified by his advances as he tried to sit next to her, hold her hand, or hug her.  When he finally spoke to her, she had screamed when she realized the voice was Walker's, then attacked him, demanding to know where her brother was.  Walker had replied that he was her brother, whether he looked different or not.  Fear had changed to anger, and Crystal, wielding a table knife, tried to push him off the balcony, believing that this strange person had murdered Walker.

Walker stopped her, but Crystal's inability to recognize him at all nearly broke his heart.  He carefully avoided his grief-crazed sister and found a corner, where he sat down and cried.  Crystal, miserable and confused, let him be.  Later, after Crystal had gone to bed, Walker slipped into the room and sat down on the edge of the couch where she slept, softly calling her name.  In the dark, without looks to confuse her, Crystal recognized Walker, asked him where he'd been and if he'd seen that strange boy who was pretending to be him.

Walker had then explained everything that had happened.  Crystal lit a candle and saw that what he had told her was true. 

"I'm sorry," she told him, "but you were running around in a different body, and I didn't realize it was you."

Walker had laughed and told her that when he had seen himself in a mirror he had screamed loud and long, then hid from the mirror behind a tapestry.  Hepsiba had been thoroughly amused by this and took the passageways with the most mirrors on the way back because they terrified Walker.  "That was why I was so frightened when I came in the door," he had said.  "Don't tease me if I spend most of tomorrow sitting in front of a mirror; I need to get used to myself."

And so that terror passed, and Crystal had slipped back into her dream state.  

I am going.  I have decided that writing is not my cup of tea, and I really don't enjoy doing it anymore.  Therefore, this blog is being abandoned to whatever its fate may happen to be in the land of blogs.

Not really.  :D  Writing is still my greatest passion aside from Bible Bowl.  I am leaving, however.  I have come to some difficult parts in my writing, and editing my book, Sarco, takes up a great deal of time that I would otherwise spend writing on Proeiden Tessares.  Posting one chapter a week is just getting too difficult for me to do, as I want to give you good pieces of writing, not some thrown-together...thing.  This blog is not being abandoned, though.  It will be inactive over the summer, but I hope to come back this fall with more of my book.  I am not leaving HSB either.  You will still be able to find short excerpts from my writing on the Cluttered Desk, and I will also be posting various thoughts and events of my life on my Castle in the Clouds.  Farewell until then, emos hetairos.  May the Lord of Heaven guide your feet.

~Cyrilla

Translated From Sarconian Annals - Draft Volume II

Cadwallyder groaned in despair as the column of men in front of him crashed into each other and fell to the ground.  Would they never get it?  "Get up and reform!!" he yelled, his voice sharp with exasperation.  A mixture of groans and laughter drifted across the field as the column slowly reformed.
Cadwal paced back and forth, lecturing for what seemed like the hundredth time on the steps required to complete the maneuver.  Finally one of the recruits groaned,
"Do we have to keep on doing this?"
Cadwal stopped pacing and faced the column.  "No.  You don't.  You can leave right now if you want to.  But when war comes, you'll get the worse part of it."  Cadwal started pacing again.  "An army must function as a unit if it is to function at all against a well-trained enemy.  Donovan is giving a great deal of attention to the training of his men.  If he were not, there would be little need to train you, as you are already competent with weapons.   But that is not the case.  I have been in Donovan's camps and I know that his army is receiving some of the best training that an army can get.  Therefore, if we are to meet them in battle and win, you must receive training as well.  If you are not trained as they are, well, many of you will die on the field, and the rest will die digging the graves of their comrades or under the whip of Donovan's task-masters.  That is why I march you up and down this field until you think your feet will fall off.  That is why I yell at you until I'm hoarse and then get someoneelse to yell at you for me.  Because I want you to be an army that no other army can stand against; an army that is worthy of your country and your king."  Cadwal clasped his hands behind his back, drew his eyebrows together and peered at the troops.  Not one of them said a word or moved, so he decided that he had gotten his point across.  "Let's do it again, slower this time..."

Cadwal dragged tiredly into the room and greeted Argon with a deep bow that seemed more like an attempt not to fall over.  Argon quickly waved him to a chair.
"How are they doing, Cadwallyder?" Argon queried.
"Better," Cadwal rasped, sinking into a seat.  "Still rough around the edges and not moving as smoothly as I'd like but better than when they started."  His voice, hoarse from yelling, was barely above a whisper.  A servant brought in a hot drink, which seemed to revive Cadwal's voice somewhat.  "Once I am finished with this group, my work will, for the most part, be done.  They can move on and train their own units." He turned to Walker, who was sitting in another one of the chairs.  "How is it coming with the cavalry?"
"Very quickly," said Walker.  "Everyone up here knows how to ride, and cavalry movements come naturally for them, not to mention the unicorns."
"I wish I could say the same for the foot troops," Cadwal sighed.  "You Sarconians seem born to ride."
"Well," said Argon, "Perhaps we should have the Sarconian half of the army mounted.  We can do nearly anything from the saddle, so it would be no great difficulty.  Train them in the basic infantry maneuvers, Cadwal, but concentrate your skill on the Aranaran recruits.  They will be more adept on foot."
Cadwal nodded.  "That is a good idea."
 
 Fallen leaves drifted across the courtyard, pushed by a soft breeze that stirred Crystal's hair and blew a few annoying strands into her eyes.  She pushed the hair back, tossing her head.  The wind picked up slightly; Crystal felt a slight chill in the air and knew that fall was well-settled in the country.  She turned back towards the palace for her cloak, then stopped, listening, for the rumble of hooves was carried in the wind.  Hiking up her rust-colored skirts, she raced up to the parapet that stood atop of the wall of the courtyard, her leather moccasins making no sound on the smooth stone stairs.  The wind was stronger here; her clothes and hair whipped about her.  Shielding her eyes, she gazed northward across the valley.  A well-ordered company of horsemen was riding towards the city.  She rested her hands on the top of the parapet and leaned forwards, looking intently at the banners that led the column.  The wind caught them, and she could see the devices.  One was the banner of the Old Kingdom, and the other, to her delight, held the distinctive symbol of the Left-handed Warriors.  She turned to a nearby page.
"Tell the king that the Left-handed Warriors have come," she told him, trying to contain the excitement that coursed through her.  The boy dashed off, and Crystal turned back to the parapet, straining her eyes toward the oncoming group, trying to see either Thera or Alec.  The distance was still to far for her, however, and she could only see a mass of riders. The page came running back.  "The king wants you to go out and direct them on where to camp!" he called up to her.
Crystal turned, leaned down towards the courtyard, and called for her mount.  A groom was soon running in with Cameo.  The unicorn wore no tack but a light halter.  She raced down the stairs until she was level with Cameo's back, then leaped onto the unicorn.  The groom tossed her a brown cloak as she landed.  She thanked him quickly as she threw it around her shoulders, suspecting the timely arrival of the cloak to be the work of Toran, Walker's ever-observant squire.  She touched her heels to Cameo's side and raced out of the city.  Her hair, which had been in one long braid down her back, came loose and streamed behind her; her cloak and wide sleeves followed suit.  Some of the loose fabric of her skirt billowed in the wind.  Crystal grinned fiercely.  She loved riding at this fast, wild pace; Cameo's mane lashing her face and the steady pound of the unicorn's hooves matching the beating of her own heart.
Cameo reared as they halted a little in front of the leaders, neighing a greeting to the other unicorns in the group. Crystal pulled a strip of cloth from a small pocket in her wide leather belt and tied it around her head so that her wildly whipping hair was restrained to some degree.  The company stopped as the leaders came up to her.
"My lady Crystal," came the greeting.
"Head Instructor Trent."  Crystal bowed slightly.  "It is good to see you.  I extend the king's most cordial greetings, and his highness speaks for all of us here."  She smiled warmly.  "You are most welcome."
"Thank you," said Trent.  "Where would it be best for us to pitch camp?"
"Right over there."  Crystal pointed.  "Near the shore of the lake."
Trent nodded.  "I will see to it immediately."  He galloped off, calling instructions.
"Crystal!" one of the riders called.
Crystal turned.  "Thera!"  The girls urged their unicorns forward, closing the gap between them, leaned from the backs of their mounts and embraced.  "Ohhh, it is good to see you again," said Crystal happily.
"And you!" exclaimed Thera with her usual enthusiasm.  "We would have come sooner, but, well, you probably know how long it takes to get any amount of people mobilized."
"Oh yes," said Crystal.  "And Alec?  Where is he?"
"Over there, somewhere," said Thera, gesturing vaguely towards the now distant group.  "Trying to be everywhere he is needed and help everyone, in his usual Alecish manner."  She smiled affectionately toward the party.  "I'd better go and keep an eye on him.  He'll be so busy helping everyone else set up camp and get settled that he'll forget about his own gear until later tonight when he's so tired that he'll just shove it into a pile and sleep on it until further notice."  Thera smiled and shook her head.  "Well, pretty soon he won't have to worry about his camp gear because I'll be taking care of it for him."  She laughed at Crystal's puzzled expression.  "I guess you didn't know.  He asked me to marry him."
Crystal grabbed her friend's hands.  "Thera!  How wonderful!  He's such a kind young man!"
"Isn't he though?  We're getting married as soon as we possibly can, probably sometime this winter.  Oh, I'm so excited!"  She bounced in her saddle.  "I hope we can talk more soon; I desperately need you to help me plan my wedding.  But for now, I probably need to go and do my part in this camp setup and make sure my betrothed's tent gets pitched.  It'll be cold tonight, and he shouldn't be in the open."
"You'll be a dear wife," said Crystal, laughing.  "Alec's one very lucky young man.  I'll talk to you again as soon as I can."
"Alright."  Thera rode away toward to Left-handed Warrior's slowly emerging camp.
Crystal watched her for a moment, then turned back towards the city.
"Are they getting settled?" Sedge asked as she rode into the courtyard.
Crystal nodded.  "Yes."
"Good.  I'll go check on things later if Walker doesn't." Sedge swung up onto his unicorn.  "Well, despite some difficulties, Cadwallyder is bringing his recruits forward.  I was just about to go out there.  Would you like to come with me?"
"Certainly."
They rode from the courtyard and out to the trampled field where Cadwal had toiled to train the men for so long.  They halted a slight distance from the column, which was marching in a smooth rhythm.  A shouted order came from Cadwal; half the column marked time until the other half of the column was slightly ahead of them.  Then, with smooth precision, the column of fours moved into line of battle.
Sedge rode over to the line, which stood motionless.  "Smart work, Cadwal," he said admiringly.  "You certainly know your stuff."
"Thank you, General." said Cadwal, saluting.  "I do my best.  The real test will be later though, during battle."
"I have no doubt that the men will perform," said Sedge reassuringly.
"I pray you are right, General," said Cadwal.  He turned back to the men and shouted another order.  The line of battle moved back into column of fours.  The column marched briskly to another part of the field, then performed another maneuver.
Sedge turned to Crystal.  "If the entire army is trained as well as that group has been, well, they will actually be able to call themselves an army."
 
Donovan's army reached the foothills, and the Sarconians began to send out patrols to keep an eye on them.  From their reports, all was quiet in the Strianelian camps.  The tension eased slightly and the Sarconian patrols became smaller, for Donovan's general was not sending out his own patrols.  Much of the patrol duty had fallen on the Left-handed Warriors.  The mountain scouts of old had fallen almost into oblivion during the long time of peace, and the Warriors were the next in line when it came to wood-craft and stealth.
Alec leaned down and rubbed the neck of his unicorn.  It nickered softly.  The scout next to him paid the unicorn no mind, but skimmed the trees carefully with his piercing eyes.  Beside them, Thera dismounted silently.
"What's wrong?" she asked the scout.
"It's too quiet," the scout replied.  "There is something not right about this place."  He swung onto his horse.  "We should leave, and quickly."
Alec nodded and turned his mount.  Suddenly, a arrow whizzed down and struck Thera's unicorn in the neck.  It collapsed, dead.  Alec grabbed Thera's hand and pulled her into the saddle behind him.  Another arrow came down and struck Alec's unicorn.  It screamed.  The scout's horse panicked.  Rearing, it began to run away from Alec and Thera as the scout fought to bring it under control.  A second arrow downed Alec's unicorn.  Rolling free of the animal, Alec and  Thera drew their swords as a Strianelian patrol swept towards them.
 
The scout regained control of the horse and turned back towards his companions.  He could see that they were under full attack.  He knew there would be nothing he could do if he turned back and fought with them.  Wheeling the horse, he headed back towards Sarconia City, his mind set on getting reinforcements.
 
Alec and Thera fought back to back, but the numbers they faced were horribly overwhelming.  After what seemed like hours of fighting, they stood, disarmed and helpless, in the hostile center of the Strianelian patrol.  Alec turned to Thera.
"I should have never let you come."
"And what would have happened if I hadn't?  I would still lose you."
Behind them, they heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed.
"As it is," Thera continued, "We get to go together."
Alec slid his arms around her.  "I guess so."
Thera rose to her tiptoes as Alec leaned down to kiss her, the love flowing between them dulling the pain of cold, hard, steel. 
 
Sedge urged his unicorn to a faster pace.  From the scout's report, Alec and Thera were under attack from a fairly large patrol.  They drew up as they came to the edge of the bluff above the fight and saw Alec and Thera standing together in the center of the patrol.  A Strianelian drew his sword and stepped towards the pair.  Suddenly, a young man with a bow was beside Sedge.  A well-aimed arrow flew from the bow and struck down the man.  The Sarconians drew their swords and prepared to charge down the hill.  Right before Sedge gave the signal, a man sprang from the patrol below them and thrust his sword through Alec and Thera.  They slid gently to the ground.
"Charge!!!" yelled Sedge.
An angry roar rose from the Sarconians as they charged down the hill, bent on avenging the murder of their comrades.
 
The wild, chilling yells of the Sarconians came faintly to Alec's ears.  More acutely came the soft sounds of Thera gasping for breath.  "Thera?"
She smiled faintly.  "See you in heaven."  A faint smile came to her pain-filled face as she laid her head on Alec's shoulder.  The ragged breath stopped, and her body went limp in his arms.
With a whispered prayer, Alec commended his soul to its Maker.  Closing his eyes, he resigned himself to follow Thera into eternity.
 
The Strianelian patrol quickly fled before the wrath of the enraged Sarconian soldiers.  A medic bent over Alec and Thera in the clearing dust of the battle.  He slowly looked up at the gathering men.  "They are gone."
Sedge watched quietly as the men built makeshift stretchers to carry the dead, wondering how many more times they would look down an a friend and know that all they could do for that friend was give them a proper burial.

Translated From Sarconian Annals - Draft Volume II

I must apologize for a few choppy sections in this chapter.  I'm having some trouble smoothing a few things over.

Crystal shifted a few of the pillows on the couch she was reclining on.  Her time in Corvan had been quite pleasant, for the most part.  Brian's fast action in repealing harmful laws had promptly won him the favor of his people.  The threat of civil war no longer hung over Corvan like a dark cloud. 
A dark cloud still hung over the castle, however.  Leonardo was spending his time sulking, and his resentment towards Walker seemed to grow by the hour.  Walker  had given Leonardo as much space as he could, but the matter had had to collide at some time, and it did.  Leonardo had challenged Walker to a duel.  Brian had protested, but Walker had accepted Leonardo's challenge, telling Brian that maybe if Leonardo lost his desired throne in a duel, he wouldn't feel like it was stolen from him.
Crystal was somewhat apprehensive about the duel, but she did not allow it to consume her.  She knew she had been trained by one of the best swordsmen in the known world until she could spar with him on nearly even terms, and she and Walker could duel for hours with no clear victor.
Crystal glanced up at the clock and realized that she should probably head down to the courtyard where the duel would be held.  She laid aside her book made a motion to rise, and the room suddenly exploded with movement.  She had casually kicked off her shoes, and now a maid sprang up to slide them on her feet.  Pages magically appeared out of nowhere, ready to deliver any messages she might send.  A servant came over with her cloak, asking if she wanted it.  She nodded, and the servant draped it over her shoulders.
She exited the room, servants trailing in her wake.  It had taken her some time to adjust to their almost constant presence.  She was nearly used to it by now, however, and generally ignored them.  There were already many people in the courtyard.  Brian was sitting under a canopy and beckoned Crystal to come over to him.  She sat down at his side.  Walker was nearby, swinging his sword in slow circles, loosening his arm.  Two squires were roping off the center of the courtyard.
At last the two combatants faced off.  Leonardo swung angrily at Walker.  Walker parried the blow, pushed Leonardo's sword to the side, and advanced in a swift offencive combination.  Leonardo retreated, trying to recover from the skill of Walker's attack.  Walker backed off, and the duelists began circling each other.  Once again, it was Leonardo who attacked, and he could still find no way through Walker's seamless defense.  Walker lightly leaped in and knocked Leonardo's sword from his hand with a few quick blows.
Leonardo stared at Walker, shocked.  "How did you do that?  How did you beat me?"
"I knew some things you didn't," said Walker.  "Good fight."
Leonardo nodded dumbly and walked into the castle.
Suddenly, there was a commotion at the end of the courtyard.  A messenger dashed in and dropped to his knees in front of the canopy, clutching his side and gasping for breath.  "My lord," he panted, "Eresna has declared war on us.  They are attacking the norther border as we speak.  General Ruthford needs reinforcements...now."
"How long ago was this?" asked Brian.
"A couple of days.  I nearly ran three horses to death trying to get here."
"General Ruthford will have his reinforcements."
The messenger nodded his thanks, still gasping for breath.
Brian began rattling off orders, and the castle sprang into action.  Brian sent a messenger to General Ruthford, telling him that reinforcements were on the way.
That evening, a message came to Walker from Argon.  Walker looked grim as he read it.  "High King Donovan has refused King Argon's terms.  Donovan has declared war.  His army marches on the Sarconian border.  I must go there.  The Sarconian army is still small compared to Donovan's; Argon will need all the help he can get."
"I shall go with you," said Crystal.
"It would be safer for you to stay here," Walker told her.
"With a war brewing with Eresna?  I will be as safe in Sarconia as I would be here."
"So stay here," said Walker.
"I cannot."
"I think there is something deeper here," said Brian.
Crystal blushed and looked at her toes.
"Well?" asked Walker.  "Are you finally going to admit how you feel about Argon?"
Crystal blushed even redder.  "I love him.  I feel like I should be with him during these dark times."
Walker shrugged.  "Have it your way, since you will whether I like it or not.  I'm leaving right after sunrise tomorrow."
"I cannot take the threat of Eresna lightly," said Brian, "But Corvan promised Sarconia military assistance in event of a war.  I'll send a few hundred picked horsemen with you."
 
Crystal walked swiftly through the halls of the castle.  Preparations for her and Walker's departure had started immediately.  She had been to her chambers, and Gari was now directing the packing of her belongings, so Crystal was sure that everything was under control.  Now she was helping her brother.  Walker's squire had fallen terribly ill a few days before.  Although the doctors were confident that he would live, his days as a squire were over.  Walker needed a capable replacement and fast.  Crystal had spoken with Walker's squire, and the boy had given her the names of three boys who might be able to replace him.  She was off to find and interview them.
The first boy was very nervous.  He was the youngest a squire could possible be, and, although Crystal could see a great deal of potential in him, he was not ready yet.  The second boy was better; Crystal thought she had found what she wanted, but she interviewed the last boy, just to be fair.  He changed her mind.
His name was Toran.  He had been a squire for an older knight who had recently died.  The knight had taught the boy well, and Crystal was pleased at the speed with which he answered her questions.  Crystal had decided earlier that none of the boys would know why they were being interviewed until she had made her choice.  The decision was easy; Toran easily outstripped his competition in savvy and intelligence.  The youth nearly passed out from shock when she informed him that she had chosen him to be Walker's squire, but he recovered quickly and attacked his new job with vigour. 
They departed early the next morning with the sun in their eyes.  Ebony was less than happy over being held back by the horses of the calvary that rode with him.  Walker and Ebony frequently galloped down the line to make sure there were no stragglers, then up the hill to survey the overall situation.  Cameo was quieter and did not demand the constant exersise Ebony did, contenting herself with galloping up the hill with Ebony every now and then.  Toran could have easily killed both himself and his horse trying to stay near Walker, but Walker was alert to the situation and told Toran to stay behind with Crystal.
 
 ~~~~~~
 
Argon glanced around the busy courtyard, observing the activity from the steps of the palace.  The courtyard faced north, nestling against the white stone wall of the palace.  The sliced-off oval shape was walled near the front, then gave way to sturdy pillars where the gardens started.   Directly in front of where he stood, at the furtherest extention of the courtyard, a fountain was built into the wall.  The gates of the courtyard were on either side of it; one facing north-east, the other north-west.  Both stood open.
"They're coming!" hollered Daryn from the roof.  He bounded down the stairs, taking them two and three at a time, landed lightly at the base, and bounced gracefully to his place behind Argon.  The young squire never walked unless he had to; he much preferred running and jumping.
Argon looked back at his squire and gave him a quick wink.  Daryn answered with a mischievous grin.  The pressures of the kingship laid heavily on Argon's young shoulders, and he often found himself searching for something to do to relieve his tension.  Daryn was always happy to help, and they now had a secret between them.  They had engaged in a stair-jumping contest in one of the less-used parts of the palace the previous night.  Neither had won; they had been laughing too hard to finish the competition.
Argon's swift eyes caught the flash of mail glinting in the party coming over the valley floor.  Walker and Crystal were with the vanguard.  The horsemen branched off to the army's camp, but some of the figures continued towards the palace.
The people in the courtyard cleared as the the figures dashed in.  They reined in their mounts near Argon. 
They have changed, Argon thought.  Both Walker and Crystal had more of an air of command.  A thin band of silver rested in Walker's brown hair, a sign of his rank of Heir Apparent of Corvan.  A Corvanie soldier behind them held the long pole that supported the standard of Corvan: a black panther on a purple background.
They dismounted.  Walker's squire, a Corvanie boy whom Argon did not recognize, took Ebony and Cameo's reins.  Walker and Argon exchanged a warm handclasp, then embraced.
"It is good to see you, my friend," said Walker.
"And you, Walker," said Argon. "Crystal?  You look well."
Crystal smiled.  "I am, thank you."
Ebony reared.  The high-spirited unicorn, feeling the mountain air and knowing that his home pasture was nearby, wanted to leave the courtyard, squire or not.  The boy bravely kept hold of Ebony's reins and managed to keep his feet as the unicorn dragged him about.  Daryn went to his aid, and soon the unicorn was dragging both boys in crazy circles.  Crystal released a burst of laughter, for the whole thing sounded like this:
"Agg!  Whoaaaaa!  Steady there.  Now, Ebony, there's no need for this- ahhhh!"
"Hang on!  I got him!  Yarg!  No, I don't have him!  Help!"
"I've got him, sort of, hold on.  Oof.  Really, Ebony.  Just calm down.  Hey, are you alright there?"
"No!  Ohh, owwwww....my toe...  Erg...PLEASE Ebony!  Stop it!  Ahhhhh!"
"Your toe?  My elbow!  Ouch!  Ebony, you are the most difficult unicorn a squire ever had to deal with!  You know that?"
"He knows it and is proud of it.  Ugh!  Honestly, Ebony, if you don't stop, we won't be able to unsaddle you and groom you and turn you out in the lovely fresh grass.  So STOP!"
This reasoning evidently made sense to Ebony, because he stopped trying to rid himself of the boys that held desperately to his reins.  Daryn stepped back and let Walker's squire move in closer to the unicorn and take its bridle. 
Daryn glanced at Argon, and Argon gave him a quick nod.  Daryn picked up Cameo's reins and the reins of Walker's squire's horse, and both boys headed for the stables.  The standard-bearer headed to the army's camp, and Walker and Crystal went inside the palace with Argon.  They headed for a sitting room on the east wing.
"Argon?" asked Walker.  "You look tired, my friend."
"Donovan marches on us, and what do I have to defend my people with?  It seems that we have an army, yes, but it's little more than sheer man power.  They have not been trained to function as a unit like Donovan's men have.  There have not been any battles here in a very long time, and there is no one with military experience.  I honestly don't know what to do.  Cadwalladyr and his nine friends have had such training, but I don't know if I can put the load of training an army on them."
"Cadwalladyr?" asked Crystal.  "That name in unfamiliar."
"Cadwalladyr is a deserter from Strianelian Army.  He came here with nine others not long ago."
"I have some people in my group that could help them," said Walker.  "And I would be glad to help as well."
"Very well.  First, I think we'll find those that are not familiar with the use of the sword.  Most know what they're doing when they pick up a blade, but some will not.  Walker, I'll leave it to you and Crystal to train them.  The rest will start  drilling."
"What plan do you have for the officers?"
"There are no officers yet.  We'll be looking for people with leadership qualities who can actually command to become officers.  I'd rather not have inept clodpoles leading troops."

...............................................................................................

I was given the Lovely Friend Award by GraceElizabeth.  Thanks Grace!

In passing it on, I have to give it right back to GraceElizabeth.  She used to comment on here before she got a blog.  I always enjoyed what she had to say, and now that she has a blog it has been very easy to create a friendship.

Kantare.  I consider myself privliged to know this young author who is on the verge of getting his first work published.  The conversations that we've had (thanks to the inventor of c-boxes) have been mentally stimulating and often help me get past a difficult part in my writing.

Luthien.  From speaking of the oddities of writing to the oddities of relatives and other more serious subjects, my conversations with Luthien are undoubtably refreshing and fun.

*sigh* So many lovely people, so little time, and so few words that one can use. 

Yup!!!  I'm finally allowed to blast the Bible Bowl team's scores all over the internet.  Click here to read the story of the trip and the test results.

Well, I'd love to post Chapter Twenty-two, but I have gotten rather bogged down in it.  Hopefully it will be here next week.  In the meantime, here is a poem that I wrote a few months back while feeling a little sentimental.  I don't claim to be a poet though; in fact, this was written more in a song-like sense, though I have yet to put it to music.

Lament of the Wanderer

The mist crawls slowly through the grasses,
The sun shines dimly through the clouds.
Days are filled with tears instead of laughter,
Swelling rivers make the flowers droop and drown.

I stand with my face to the windstorm,
Letting rain drench my cloak, hide my tears.
I wonder if someday you’ll come home,
After wandering far and wide all these years.

The moon shines softly on the woodlands,
The bright stars fill the pools with gems.
I seem to see her face in every flower,
Her gentle voice is carried in the wind.

I stand with my face to the windstorm,
Letting rain drench my cloak, hide my tears.
I wonder if I’ll find my way home,
After wandering far and wide all these years.

Translated From Sarconian Annals - Draft Volume II

Warning - Contains mild thematic elements and some tragic dying.

Argon leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking north to where the army was camped.  His words of a few months before came back to him. I never wanted any of this to happen, but I have no control over the events that have been set in motion. I will be a warring king, it is inevitable. How many people will I send to their deaths, fighting their own countrymen?  And will I ever be forgiven for it?  He sighed.  He still felt that way.  There had to be a way out of the war; there just had to be.  Why are we threatening war anyway?  Why don't we just secede and leave Donovan to go about his business?  What has he done to anybody?
Daryn peeked around the corner.  "Milord?  The guards caught a small group of Strianelians at one of the passes.  The leader of the group has asked to speak with you and is waiting with his companions in the courtyard."
Argon nodded, turned from the balcony, and headed down to the courtyard, Daryn trailing in his shadow.
There were ten of them, all dressed in the uniform of the Strianelian Army.  Nine were standing; the tenth was tied onto the shoulders of one of his companions like a pack.  He did not appear to be conscious.  Argon had originally thought that it was a group of messengers, but these were definitely not couriers.  Their clothes were torn and dirty.  They all appeared to be exhausted. 
"Do you come in peace or war?" asked Argon.  He guessed that none of the boys were any older than he was. 
"Both," the youth who appeared to be their leader replied.  "We've come to join your army."
"What lead you to desert Donovan?" Argon asked.
"He is a fake," the youth said in disgust.  "He pretends to be good and kind, but underneath it all he is a beast."  His companions nodded in agreement.
"Did you people carry your friend all the way here?" asked Argon.
"Yes."
"Will you let me take a look at him?"
 The boys parted and carefully laid their unconscious companion on the stone pavement of the courtyard.  Argon knelt over him and gently felt his pulse.  The boy moaned softly.  "What happened to him?" Argon asked
"What happened to him is part of the reason we left," said the leader.  "Our story will explain it all."
"He looks like he's been whipped within an inch of his life," Argon commented.
Grief and rage mixed in the eyes of the boys.  "He was."
"Daryn," said Argon.  "Find a medic and send him down here.  Then go get General Carzim and tell him that we have some people joining us."  He rose and turned to the leader of the small group.  "I would like to hear this tale of yours.  Are you up to telling me at this time, or do you need rest?"
"I can tell it now."
They moved a little ways away from the group.
"I and my friends come from various towns and farms near the foothills.  When news of Donovan's draft came we all had mixed feelings, but, for the most part, we were not opposed to entering the army.  They took us to camps and gave us various tests to make sure we were capable of service.  After that, we were divided into squads of ten."  The boy began to point to his companions.  "That is Trent, there's Fane and Saith, brothers.  We call them Flint and Steel sometimes because of all the sparks that fly between them, but they're true as Nymphs and good to the core. The others are Carn, Mael, Gwyngad, Ninian, and Kynon.  Our wounded companion is Jeston, and I am named Cadwalladyr, though most call me Cadwal.
"Jeston had a widowed mother and a sister.  He was their sole provider.  He went to the commanding officer and told him of his family, who was depending on him for survival.  Then he requested permission to go home to them, or at least be given a leave to arrange care for them while he was gone.  The officer refused his request.  While Jeston was trying to get a leave, the king rode in and asked what was going on.  The officer told him.  The king asked Jeston what his squad leader said about the whole thing.  So Jeston came and got me, I was the squad leader, and I told the king that I thought Jeston should at least be given a leave, if not sent home altogether.
About this time, Jeston's sister came to the camp.  She joined our argument that Jeston should go home.  The king, however, backed the officer up.  We continued to protest as respectfully as we could, but they would have none of it.  Jeston's sister finally began to lose her temper.  'How can you claim to be a merciful king if you act like this?' she asked Donovan.  The officer became angry and sliced her head off.  'It would be terrible to separate mother and daughter,' said Donovan.  In no time, a detachment was sent to kill Jeston's mother.  Then the king left.
"Jeston was furious.  He challenged the officer to a duel on the spot.  The officer threw him a sword, and he fought bravely, but it was skill against incompetence.  Jeston lost.  That didn't stop him from yelling at the officer, however, and he used some very...colorful language.  That made the officer even more angry.  He grabbed Jeston, tied him to a fence, and flogged him within an inch of his life.  We got him back to our hut later that night.  We had become a pretty tight group, and seeing Jeston all bloody and half dead with pain made us mad.  Our dicision to desert was almost unconscious.  I don't even remember discussing it.  The next thing we all knew, we were sneaking out of the camp and heading for the hills.  We've been on the run ever since.  That was about a week ago.  Jeston hasn't gotten any better; the elements have been less than kind.   We've been taking turns carrying him, but he's unconscious most of the time.  I think the wounds might be infected."
"Don't worry about Jeston, Cadwal," said Argon.  "Most of our medics have Elvish training in the arts of healing.  All that can be done for him will be."
Cadwal moved off the join his companions.  Conan came over to Argon.
"Is the boy's story plausible?" Argon asked his friend.
"From what I know of Donovan, yes," said Conan.  "That is why I have encouraged you to demand Donovan's surrender and threaten war."
"I do not want to make the first battle move," said Argon.  "Most of the people are still blind to who Donovan really is.  We must wait for him to make the first move, and all our actions, at least at first, must be defensive."
Conan nodded agreeably. 
"We must merely defend our borders for now," Argon continued.  "I've looked at the agreement between Sarconia and Strianel when they merged into one country, and we have a right to secede when we want to.  I have demanded Donovan's surrender because of the agreement between the Breakers and the ConRays, but I do not intend to press the issue until he becomes violent."
"He has become violent," said Conan.  "Killing Jeston's mother and sister...that was violent."
"It heats my blood as well, but it is not something to start a war over."
"You are confident that Donovan will make a move as soon as he gets your letter?"
"Yes."
Conan folded his arms and looked east.  "You're probably right."

Well, I'm off to Texas with my Bible Bowl team for testing in Abilene.  I will be gone Thursday through late Sunday, so it's very doubtful I will get in my usual Sunday post.  Hopefully I will get Chapter Twenty-one posted Monday or Tuesday.  Until then, emos hetairos.  May the Lord of Heaven guide your feet.

~Cyrilla/AuthorElf

Translated From Sarconian Annals - Draft Volume II