Song of the Sword

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION and PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE: OF THE HORSE AND OF THE RAT

* * * * *

“An adventure can only truly begin three ways: by death, by slur, or by letter.” – Dylxexes the Younger, of the First Era.


I am not a man given to contemplation of the gods. For most of the long years of my life I inhabited my sphere of activity and influence and I allowed them to do the same. It suited me that the moments when those spheres intersected were few and far between. So you can imagine the emotions I now feel as I tell you that recent events have forced me to reevaluate those views forged over a lifetime of scholarship.

As to those events, they were set in motion by a letter from my publisher, Melius Kane. This letter, which came to me by messenger, was noteworthy in the fact that it contained two surprises. The first was an effusive congratulation on the success of my most recent work, Redguards, Their History and Their Heroes. Given his initial reluctance to my publishing the work his praise now struck me as disingenuous. The second surprise was his invitation to accompany him on a cruise to Hammerfell. There was a playwright in Sentinel whose collected works he desperately wanted to publish, and he thought that I might appreciate a visit to my homeland, which I had not seen since I was one and nine. What he didn’t say at the time was that he thought that arriving at the playwright’s home in the company of Destri Melarg would increase his chances of acquiring the aforementioned works.

Now I must impress upon you that I alone amongst my race am cursed with a complete lack of sea legs. Travel by boat is as anathema to me as fire is to a vampire. But the thought of a return to Hammerfell stirred a forgotten longing within my soul, and the idea that the trip would be paid for by the gold of my reluctant publisher appealed to my sense of poetic justice. So I agreed to go, little knowing how much of my life would be altered by such a simple decision.

On a cold and dreary Rain’s Hand Fredas with storm clouds obscuring the mid-day sun Melius and I shared a carriage to the Waterfront District. There we boarded the Prince Juilek bound for Hegathe via Stros M’Kai. I would tell you more of her Captain and crew, but I have no real memory of them. What I do have is a series of vague images of blurred faces that periodically visited my cabin during the interminable parts of the voyage when I was, shall we say, indisposed. Their sympathetic words were not nearly as soothing to my tempers as the damp towels which were gratefully used to cool my feverish brow.

My illness proved fortuitous, however. Because of it I missed the series of massive storms that claimed four of the Juilek’s crew and caused her to be buffeted off course by several hundred leagues. My fever finally broke with the last of the storms so that I emerged upon deck to sunny skies, and a breathtaking view of the Eltheric Ocean.

While I admired the view I cast the first grateful prayers to Kynareth that I had ever uttered. The Captain ordered the lowering of the Juilek’s anchor while he disappeared into his cabin to ascertain our exact position. Melius joined me on the rail, looking as green and miserable as I had felt until that morning. We commiserated and tried to determine what insult we had given Zenithar that he would choose to make us attendant upon such an ill-fated vessel.

The Captain emerged from his cabin and ordered the weighing of the anchor. He held a rolled map in his hand and gazed east into the rising sun. After several futile tries it was determined that the anchor was stuck on something below. No amount of twisting, pulling, or jerking was sufficient to worry it free. One of the Argonian crewmen dived overboard, tasked with the responsibility of dislodging it. We waited for what seemed like hours as the sun slowly gained its perch directly above us. When the Argonian finally surfaced he informed us that the Juilek was resting directly above the hull of a ship of unfamiliar design that sank many years before. The Juilek’s anchor was caught in the bowels of this derelict wreck and it was beyond his power to free it. He also told us that a search of the wreck had produced two chests that might still contain something of value.

As anyone who has ever spent any time aboard a ship knows, nothing spurs a crew to action quite like the words ‘sunken chest’. Within scant moments two water-logged chests were being hauled out of the water by ropes which the entire crew had a hand in pulling. The first was a half-rotted wooden chest that when opened deposited a cargo of muddy water upon the deck. Beyond the water a pair of crewmen pulled sodden rags and what remained of ancient shoes from the chest.

The other chest was different. It required the entire crew, Captain included, to haul it from its watery grave. As it crashed upon the deck we could see that it was made of pure ebony. It was an extraordinary piece of craftsmanship whose worth was not lost on even the dullest member of the crew. An unfamiliar symbol which looked very much like an official seal adorned the sides and the top of the lid. It took five strong men to slide it across the deck. We broke two daggers and a sword prying loose the lock. When finally we succeeded in opening it I think we all gasped. Everything inside was as dry as the day the chest had been sealed.

Inside the bounty that met our eyes caused several of the crew to moan and lament our bad fortune, before turning back to the task of freeing the anchor. The Captain simply shook his head. I looked to Melius; he was rubbing his hands back and forth as if in some type of fugue. A broad smile nearly split his face in half. It was a smile that I knew mirrored my own.

The chest was filled with scrolls, parchments, correspondence, manifests, and journals. All were in pristine condition and all were written in the hand of Yokuda. My knowledge of the language was sadly rudimentary, but I recognized it from my research into Redguards. At the bottom of the chest more than a dozen smooth gray stones, each as large as a man’s hand, lay warm to the touch.

I don’t remember much after that. I don’t remember freeing the anchor, or the weeks spent sailing east to Stros M’Kai. I don’t remember the deal that Melius brokered with the Captain that allowed us to keep the contents of the chest, in exchange for the chest itself. All I remember is the dim light in my cabin, trying to decipher the journals, and listening to the music of the forgotten language contained in the memory stones.

I sit here now in the study of my childhood home, surrounded by the notes and translations made by the too few I could find who still speak Yokudan. I write these words with a new found gratitude to the gods of my ancestors that they have chosen me as the vessel through which the testimony of those aboard the last ship to sail in the Ra Gada can now be given. I seek no honors for the duty that I now perform, a fact which will doubtlessly vex Melius when he returns from the playwright’s home in Sentinel. With your permission I now step aside, and allow these noble people to tell their story with their own thoughts, and in their own words.










From the Memory Stone of Lionel Onsi:

The storm rages beyond the window of my cabin. I have spoken to the Captain; he swears that an island lies due west only a few leagues hence. But the sea has taken the mast and oars are useless in these swells. I fear it is only a matter of time before we are lost beneath the waves.

It seems strange that my life should end in this way, to survive The Hammer and the Anvil and the threat of the Hiradirge. To pull myself from the slums of Kanesh to the heights of Sword Sainthood only to see my spark engulfed in the waves of the Eltheric Ocean. Such is the way of things, I suppose. I have lived full and well, and my lone regret is that I won’t end this life on the point of a sword. But even that regret is assuaged by the fact that I will pass into the afterlife in the arms of my beloved.

The Captain says that he will place this stone with the others in the royal chest. It seems that even that she-serpent Elisa has now surrendered to the inevitable. It will prove difficult to part with; I have carried it almost all the days of my life. Upon it I have recorded all of my thoughts and experience. Perhaps it will be found someday by one who will understand. Yes our mistakes were born of our passions, but so were our triumphs. Can one separate the two . . .?

A sudden wind claims the light in my cabin. The open portal slams against the wall. My time grows short; I must take this stone to the Captain and then find Belakani. I am Lionel Onsi do Kanesh Hel Ansei in the twenty-first year of the serpent 2440, and these are the last thoughts recorded into my memory stone. I go now to compose my death poem.

“To any who would find this stone, may you find peace and protection with the unknown gods of war.”





From the Memory Stone of Belakani:

Blessed Morwha, I can see it in his eyes. Lionel tries to hide the worst from me but his eyes can never hold a lie, it is why I love him so. That love is why I can feel so at peace even now knowing that the hour of our death is at hand. Against Tava’s wrath my Shehai amounts to nothing. My death poem waits to be composed, but I am not daunted. For we face the eternal night together, as we have faced so much before. Even the might of the sea is not enough to still the flame that always draws me to him.

Perhaps the other ships have met with more fortuitous seas than ours. If the Ra Gada should fail then the sun sets on all Yokudans. I must not despair; our people will find the lands to the east, we will tame that land, and we will prosper. Lionel and I will never lay eyes on this new land that our people will call home, but that is Pappa’s will now. I would rather die a single death with him than live for countless ages in a land without him. Here at the edge of our world, so far from all that we have known, I feel at peace.

There is much that I have not told him. While he chased the remnants of the Hiradirge through the Sea of Pearls I saw what they did to Yokuda. I felt the ground tremble in its dying throes. I saw the blood pour from Mount Hatta, and I choked on the ash that filled the sky. Let him die believing that Yokuda will rise again.

“It will be my burden to know the truth.”

The ship begins to list, soon the ocean will invade. If, in the ages to come, someone were to find this stone know that I was Belakani do Noni Hel Ansei No Shira, Diplomat, Sword-Singer, and second level Ansei. Know that I passed from this life at peace, in the arms of my beloved and in the grace of the unknown gods of war.





From the Memory Stone of Elisa, First Consort to Hira, Emperor of Yokuda:

“I come to you, my lord, my love. The sea enters the ship; it will not be long now. May Tu’whacca find my soul and lead it into your waiting arms, Hira, so that we may walk the far shores forever entwined.”

Surely we are favored of the gods. They punish the Singers for their insolence. In killing you they laid their own world to waste. That is the justice that they have earned, and I lack a single tear to shed on their behalf.

“Let the others go screaming in the night. Death shall find me as calm as the sea after the storm. I shall rejoice as Tu’whacca leads me to your side, beloved, and together we shall rule for all eternity.”

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Jun 1 2010, 05:57 AM

You continue to amaze me, I love it.
Must be nice being able to spout your creativity without the forum saying:'No, youy can't have a second fan-fic..' lol

Darn! I almost thought I was going to get a 'It was a dark and stormy night. . .' from you!

As with your other wonderful story, this new one is masterfully told and drew me right in.

I am quite keen to see you using first person pov and look forward to learning tips from reading this from the perspective of your wise old Redguard.

How wonderfully natural to use a water breathing Argonian to check the anchor!

I love how you drew forth the contrast in reactions to the chest. The crew groaned over the lack of 'booty' and the scholarly types salivated over the bookish treasures.

Good work

Yay! You decided to write about your namesake!

Redguard (or Ra'Gada) lore has always been fascinating to me. The more fragments I read (including Destri Melarg's writing), the more intrigued I am by my first character's racial history.

It is something I definitely want to explore in the (far) future. Be my guide, friend and historian!

Now this I like. A lot. You capture so much of the personality of the character in the first letter which is hard and introduce him and his background quite effectivly. But the memory stones are a very nice addition, they sink a good hook, I have no idea what's going to happen but I certainly want to find out now.

Can't say I know very much at all about Hammerfell so I'll be interested in the lore side of things too. Though I will ask now how true to the cannon you intend to be (not that I have any opinions either way, I'm just interested to know how much you're imagining and how much is part of the frame you're building from).

So yes, well written, interesting setting and excellently structured. I like this.

Ooo, this is a good deal interesting.

Woo Hoo !!! This was a huge surprise! - er, this does not mean you are released from any responsibility for bringing Interregnum here!

Hey Remko, I'm glad to see you join us over here. Do you realize that on both of my stories to date you are the first person to respond with a comment? I do. Thank you for the support m8.


Thank you Acadian. I guess turn about is fair play, considering how many tips I have learned from you and Buffy. First person narration is a weakness of mine, one that I want to work on with this story.


Thank you, Zalphon


I'm glad you like it, haute! I couldn't resist using 'Destri Melarg' as the defacto author of this story. Inspiration for the introduction stems from the works of Richard Matheson (especially What Dreams May Come) and Edgar Rice Burroughs (The John Carter of Mars series got me through sixth grade).

Ra'Gada lore is fascinating, albeit a little ridiculous (giant goblins from another dimension FTW!) I hope you don't take too long to explore it in your own writing. I would be curious to read your take on it.


Thank you for the kind words Olen. To answer your question I plan to be as true to the existing canon as is possible considering how much we know. Some things, unfortunately, have to be extrapolated. For example: we know that Frandar Hunding retires to a cave to begin work on his Book of Circles in the year 2356 in the old way of reckoning (a year which translates as 1E 720 in the Tamrelic calendar). In the Book of Circles he identifies the year as the twentieth year of the fox. In my extrapolation it follows that if 2356 is the 20th year of the fox then the Yokudans must have had more than 100 different animal totems to mark the years. I have applied that reasoning to the dates in the story.


Thank you, Verlox. I worried that posting such a long introduction might strain reader interest. I am glad to see that, for you at least, this was not the case.


Thanks mALX! I plan to begin rewriting the early chapters of Interregnum this weekend. Considering how big the story grew there are things in the early chapters that I would like to change. Expect me to start moving it over to this board very soon.

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Mar 19 2010, 05:22 AM

Yeah !!

You have hit the nutshell in one hit there. Destri is one of the best writers on any forum, let alone TES forums.
His ability to only show us a glimpse of the massive tapestry that he weaves around us is the reason we devour every word of his writing.
None of us have any idea where he is leading us and we wouldn't want it any other way!!!

This story did come as a shock for me. I feel like I have stepped into the twilight zone.
mALX is writing about pirates and you are doing first person. Wow.

And who said you couldn't write first person effectively??

This is brilliant.

You're joking right? You're having me re-read iagain? you- you- oh.. alright lol.

And, now you mention it; yeah I do remember I was the first to comment on Interregnum as well.

This is absolutely brilliant. I love first-person narrative (obviously), because I feel like the writer is speaking directly to me. And what a voice your narrator already has!

Add in the voices from the memory stones and the fact that it is the narrator's own ancient history that he (and we) learn from them....

"Yes our mistakes were born of our passions, but so were our triumphs."

I am still reading Interregnum, and will look forward to seeing it here.

Okay, you have me hooked. The opening by Destri Melarg (a relative of your perhaps... ) hearkened me back to the writing of H.P. Lovecraft, whom I adore. I especially enjoyed how you wove in the lore on the Nine Divines. What I see in the wiki about them is so sketchy I have a difficult time doing much with anything of them, and after about 7 months of playing Oblivion I still cannot keep most of them straight.

As with Interregnum, I also appreciate that you describe Tamriel as a large place, taking many weeks to sail around. The 20 square mile version of Cyrodiil in the game does not translate to fiction very well, imho, as it would also make all of Tamriel smaller than Rhode Island.

What really resonates with me is this however:

Honesty is not always the best policy. Here is a person who understands that.

And Interregnum is coming here?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 20 2010, 10:11 PM

Aw, thanks Wolf.


*Destri ducks his head and waits for the flying toaster*


That is high praise indeed coming from one whose own first person narrative I admire so much! Thank you, trey.


Keeping the Nine straight is a full time task. My method is a note card near the keyboard with each gods name and a one word description of their charge, combined with a brief description for my memory:
Akatosh - Time (The big cheese)
Arkay - Funerals (Son of the big cheese)
Dibella - Love (Orgy goddess[I'm a man . . . sue me!])
Julianos - Wisdom (Logic and Reason)
Kynareth - Heavens (Wind and Rain, Sailors love her!)
Mara - Compassion (Mother Nirn. Two-timing wife of Akatosh and Lorkhan)
Stendarr - Mercy (I got nothing for ya here)
Talos - War (Tiber Septim Mantled. Patron of the Blades)
Zenithar - Work (And Luck)

Hope that helps, or at least doesn't hurt.

From the Kanesh Observer; 2/1/20th Horse, 2398:



The City Council announced today that plans for the annual New Life Festival celebration have been canceled. Sources close to the Celebration Committee indicate that the war continues to strain the city’s economy. Meat, grain and produce are in short supply. The city guard is woefully understaffed. When combined this makes a celebration on the scale that the citizens of Kanesh have grown accustomed to impossible for the city to meet. However, in a statement released this morning, Council representatives stated:

“Rumors of the city’s destitution are greatly exaggerated. Neither lack nor the concerns for security were deciding factors in the Council’s decision. In fact, based on our projections, crop yields from last year are significantly higher than years before. Because of this we encourage the citizens of Kanesh to observe the time honored tradition of New Life, and to celebrate it quietly with family and friends.”





From Brother Elgin’s Journal:

10/3/20th Horse, 2398 -

I hid the bread in the folds of my robe so that I would not be accosted returning to the Temple this morning. I passed a pack of wild dogs in the street; they were feeding on the body of some poor soul unfortunate enough to be outside alone last night. I tried to shoo the dogs away but they are starving and no longer fear us. They bared their teeth at me, warning me away from the kill. Since by law I am restricted from carrying a weapon I left the dogs to their meal.

The carcass of another dog lay on the steps to the Temple. Its head had been neatly severed with a cut too fine to have come from the blade of a farming tool. That does not seem possible; there are scant few swords in Kanesh since the Hunt. And the city guard hasn’t patrolled the slums in years.

The jaws of the severed head were closed around a bundle that twitched as I moved in closer. The shock nearly caused me to lose the bread in my robe. Still held in the dog’s mouth, past the sightless eyes, and under blankets covered in blood a child had been left on the Temple steps. I parted the dog’s jaws and lifted the child away from the grisly remains. It was a newborn, eyes closed, but it seemed healthy enough. As I removed the blanket to discern the sex I noticed two large puncture wounds in the right side of its abdomen. Blood poured freely from the wounds and dripped onto the Temple steps.

It was a boy, his skin cold to the touch. Despite the ghastly nature of his wounds, he did not cry. He was looking at me, but not with fear or hunger or rage. His large brown eyes sparkled with wonder, curiosity, and no small amount of amusement. His tiny hands glowed with a pure white light that I had seen only once before, in the hands of a Sword Singer after she had formed the Shehai. I looked down at the two parts of the dog lying on the Temple steps and gave a brief prayer to blessed Morwha.

I held the child close to my chest and watched the glow from his hands subside. I wrapped him in the folds of my robe next to the bread and took him inside the Temple. One of the sisters healed and dressed his wounds while another drew milk from one of the goats that we now keep in the undercroft.

I know the child cannot stay here but the sisters will not tolerate the thought of his leaving. As I write these words he lays sleeping in a drawer next to my desk. There is only one place for a child of his kind, and it is not in the Temple of Sep. I shall begin to make discreet inquiries, but for now he is safer here than he would be out in the dark.

The sisters have begun to call him Lionel, because he has a stout heart.





From the Kanesh Observer; 6/3/20th Rat, 2408:



If there were any lingering question over the direction Baron Hira planned to move the city after his stunning coup of last year, they were answered today when plans were unveiled for a Pan-Yokudan Conference to be held in Kanesh next month. Sources close to the Baron’s office state that this conference is considered of the ‘highest priority’ by the Baron, and that invitations have already been sent to delegates throughout the former empire. No details have been released as to the topics that this conference will debate. According to one source:

“The purpose of this conference is to bring delegates from all the various provinces into one room to clear up lingering animosity and resentment. The Baron believes that thirty-five years of civil war is enough. It is time for Yokuda to heal.”

Rumors persist that one of the issues that will be discussed is the crowning of a new Emperor. However, no one from the Baron’s office will confirm or deny that rumor.

Among the confirmed delegates contacted are two whose reputations are already widely known. Lord Doniel of Samara engineered the naval quarantine that nearly starved Kanesh last year and directly led to Baron Hira’s coup. Lord Bokene, the former Ansei and current Ambassador to the court of Noni, is the son of the famous General Bodean, who was so instrumental in Emperor Torn’s Sword Hunt of forty years ago. There has yet been no word as to whether these two men will attend the conference.





From the Memory Stone of Lionel Onsi:

“Close your eyes, Lionel,” said Brother Elgin. “Now keep them closed and hold out your hand, that’s it.”

Something hard and rough was placed into my palm.

“Now open them.”

I opened my eyes. Brother Elgin smiled down at me. There was a solid object wrapped in some form of cloth in my hand.

“Happy tenth name day,” said Brother Elgin. “Well, open it.”

I slowly removed the cloth. It was heavy whatever it was, and solid. Like I imagined ebony or silver would be. But I knew that Brother Elgin couldn’t afford ebony or silver.

It was a gray stone. Larger than the palm of my hand and smooth like the stones at the bottom of a well. Unlike those stones, this one was warm. The moment it touched my skin it felt as if I had just been given back something that I had lost. I looked into Brother Elgin’s face. He must have liked what he saw in my eyes because he smiled at me and slowly nodded his head.

“It is a memory stone, Lionel,” he said, “keep it with you always.”

“What is a memory stone?”

“Allow me to answer that, brother,” a deep voice behind me said.

I turned. With my eyes closed I had not noticed the man sitting in the pews. He rose to a height more than double my own and as he came closer he loomed above me like the shadow of a great tower in the light of a new dawn. He was dressed in a heavy gray cloak over steel armor that caught and reflected hints of whatever light the lamps could provide. His face was scarred and pocked, lined with age and the deep lines of bitter experience. There was a wellspring of mirth in his eyes, just beyond the sorrow.

“A memory stone records the events of your life,” he said, “everything you see and do will be recorded in the stone so that future generations can learn from you. It is a powerful gift you have been given. Only Singers and the Na’Totambu are permitted to carry a memory stone.”

Sword Singers! I found myself holding the stone in both hands. It felt as if it had always been mine, but I knew that I could not keep it. I held it out to Brother Elgin.

“I cannot accept this,” I said, “I am no one. It must go to a Sword-Singer.”

“You have not told him?” asked the man.

Brother Elgin shook his head and gently pushed my hands away. He knelt beside me and looked into my eyes. The sadness written into his face made me want to cry. He looked at the memory stone cradled in my hands.

“This gift is yours, Lionel,” he said, “it did not come from me, and it is deserved. When you were a child I saw you form the Shehai. I kept this knowledge from you because I feared for your safety. I love you as if you were my own son, but your destiny lies beyond these walls. The time has come for you to use the gift that Papa has given you. You will leave here today, now.”

He pulled me in close; his embrace was so tight that I found it hard to breathe. I breathed in the familiar smells of candle wax and incense that wafted from his robe. Then he pushed me away and held me at arms length. I could see tears forming in the bottom of his eyes. He looked up at the other man and nodded; then he stood, turned, and walked to the other side of the Temple.

My vision blurred and tears ran down my cheeks. I realized that Brother Elgin had just said goodbye, and that I had said nothing. I opened my mouth to speak, but I was silenced by the heavy steel gauntlet that came to rest upon my shoulder. I looked up.

“He knows that you love him, boy,” said the man. “Come, these things must be done swiftly.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“We go into the city,” he said, “to the Hall of the Virtues of War. There you shall learn the Way of the Sword.”

“I am to be a Sword-Singer?”

“If your heart proves pure, yes,” he began to steer me toward the door. “But it is a difficult path you now walk, young Lionel, one that most are not equal to.”

I looked behind us; Brother Elgin had disappeared into the undercroft. I looked up at the giant whose hand was so firm upon my shoulder.

“Do I call you ‘Master’, sir”

A smile spread across his face. It filled in the lines and softened his features.

“My apologies, young Lionel, I should have introduced myself. I am one of many whom you will call master in the years to come. I shall not be active in your day to day training, but we shall encounter each other from time to time. When we do, you may call me Master Hunding.”





From the personal correspondence of Bokene, Ambassador to the Court of Noni:

7/3/20th Rat, 2408

My Dear Bokene,

First, allow me to express my congratulations. When Elisa informed me that Laira had given birth to a baby girl my heart rejoiced for you both. In the glow of such a blessed event I am loathe to ask a favor of you. But, as you well know, the affairs of state do not spare a moment, even for celebration.

Now, more than ever, I need the support of my friends. I hope that you will see fit to lend us your presence at the Pan-Yokudan Conference that I am holding here in Kanesh next month. Perhaps together our raised voices can help forge a long overdue peace in a land so ravaged by the horrors of war.

I hope you will not be dissuaded from attending by rumors of the dangers of Kanesh. The Observer foments panic in the streets by exaggerating the dangers that are inherent in any large city. Rest assured that the safety of any visiting dignitaries will be the primary concern of this government during the Conference.

Once again I need your help, old friend. While I completely understand why Laira and the newborn cannot travel, I hope to see you here next month. Until then I remain.





From the Memory Stone of Ambassador Bokene:

There are a few hours before the dawn. Laira still sleeps and, after four songs, I can now say the same for Belakani. In her tiny form I see all that is best of Laira and me. Would that I could remain here with her, but for her and Laira’s future security I must hazard a journey into the jaws of the serpent.

Outside the northern window I can hear the sound of the waves in the darkness. The lighthouse on the cape cast its lamps to wayward ships alone upon the Eltheric Ocean. May it stand as a beacon to hasten my journey and light my return to this place of my belonging.

Hira’s ambition is power, not peace. I trust him as the sheep trusts the wolf. I know that he would burn the empire in order to wear the crown, but what choice do I have? The chance for peace must be taken by men in good faith, no matter how tenuous that peace might be.

Belakani shifts in restless sleep. She chews her bottom lip just like her mother. If only she had inherited from me one of my more endearing traits, instead of the curse that she has. I would give all that I have to spare her from the life that will be thrust upon her. I can put this off no longer. Because of the uncertain nature of my journey I must rouse Laira to the danger that she and our daughter now face. I must inform my wife of the plans that I have made for their safety in the event that my mission should fail. I must hold her close to me and, in whispered tones, tell her that our daughter has formed the Shehai.

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: May 22 2010, 12:29 AM

Another well-written chapter!

Using the memory stones to record the thoughts of the characters is very interesting, and somehow a little more effective than journals. We are inside the characters' heads in a more natural and spontaneous manner.

Again I see you starting to weave a web of events and characters. Their relationships are more evident from the outset, but seeing them a little bit at a time, in snippets and bits, makes for a more engaging read.

I couldn't really see any nits this time. Great writing!

WHEW! I was ill when I woke up this morning, but I think reading this has healed me! WHEW! Start with the response to the interview by the Kenesh Observer (how typical! Govt. is always denying what the citizens know is happening!) - the powerful scenes of Elgin and Lionel - and then to bring in a second child that can form the Shehai - WHEW !!! - not to mention this shocker: "you may call me Master Hunding.” - ARGH!!!!!!! You have done it again!!!!! Gobble Gobble... * mALX stands in front of PC for the rest of the morning * CLAP CLAP !!!!!!!!!!!!


EDIT: * the excitement being too great, mALX has died of a heart attack in front of her PC while clapping vigorously and making an odd sound like a gobbling turkey *

This post has been edited by mALX: Mar 22 2010, 04:59 PM

Even though you are apparently going to cover a large canvas, you manage to keep the writing on a "personal" level. The necessary framework of events is ably described in the articles.

Another wonderful addition.

Keep 'm coming m8!