TRIALS OF THE YOUNGEST PRINCESS - page 33

Long before she reached the doors, she missed the sound of the musicians that should have been filling the furthest corners with sound.  When she cautiously opened the side door to the great hall, the first thing she saw was several men, also in the black and red she’d seen too much of already, struggling with something she couldn’t identify.  It wasn’t until she followed the ropes up from their hands that she saw the hanging bodies.  Two of them.  They were wearing gold pants.  Their sleeves were red.  Both of them.  Their short armor was hooked in the back with a grappling hook.  The rope made a twisted detour around their necks before going up - up to . . . .  They were swinging but they were doing nothing to make themselves swing.  ‘Why were they . . . ?’  ‘Who were they?’  With horror, all the pieces fell into place.  Her brothers were hanging . . . had been hung . . . were dead.  Her brothers were dead.  Her eyes went to the throne.  ‘Father should have . . . .’  A gasp escaped before she could stifle it and his head turned.  His eyes found her and widened with surprise.  A sound came from his mouth or was it something else?  Was it a word?  ‘Did he say run?’  ‘Why was he so high?’  Her eyes looked for the answer and found only the flagstaff firmly planted upright ‘but how . . . .  Oh no, not that.  No, not that.  It couldn’t be.’  She tried to breathe.  The flag was on the floor soiled with more than blood.  Discarded.  Desecrated.  Another whisper came from her father.  She looked up in time to see his head fall forward onto his chest.

Memories

On April 22, 2008 at about 7:30 or so in the morning, I learned that my book, KING BY RIGHT OF BLOOD AND MIGHT was a real book. I was, of course, ecstatic. A few days later I got a package in the mail. You have to understand that at the time I was staying with my son; I had no reason to expect any mail I hadn't asked for. When I opened it and discovered a copy of my book, I think I was in shock. I mean, after all, it's one thing to know in my head that my book was now published - it's quite another to actually be able to touch it and turn pages made out of real paper and see the familiar words there on the page instead of on my computer screen. I don't think I stopped grinning for days. That evening, after work, my son and his wife took me out for a drink (I needed one). I was delightfully pleased when the bar gave me my drinks for free. I don't know who picked up the tab, whether it was the waitress or the bartender but it was really cool. As I recall, I had three drinks and I don't remember what they were called. My daughter-in-law, Stacy, wanted me to try one she liked and of course I like margaritas. I'm not sure what the other one was. Needless to say, I was still grinning like a Cheshire cat at this point.

Now, to top off this ecstasy, my son's neighbor went out and ordered a copy from Barns & Noble right away so about a week after touching my first book, she brought me her copy for me to sign. Once again, shock nearly overcame me and I came perilously close to forgetting how to write my name. My hand was actually shaking and I'm not prone to trembling hands, unless I'm cold. Ah, such is the very fond memory, now immortalized for everyone to share, of my first published book. We'll see if I go through the same thing next time. And yes, come hell or high water, there will be a next time.

More of my Obsession - DRUID DERRICK

“I present to the council Derrick Edward Johnson,” said Aboleth.

The use of his full name had a strange affect on Derrick; it left him reeling and dizzy.  Nearly panicked, he almost missed the first question.

“When did you first use your magic?” asked the Grand Druid.  This was the first Derrick had heard him speak and his voice was so gravely that any inflection was lost.

Clutching at the subject, Derrick said the first thing that came to mind.  He’d, of course, used magic for the first time several lifetimes ago.  “I suppose it was when I was a young cleric at the temple of Pelorus . . . ,” he started, but he was interrupted by a murmur around the gathering.

“You name a very old god, boy,” said one of the sitters.

Haltingly Derrick continued; he hated being the center of attention.  “Yes, well, it was . . . a very long time ago.  I don’t . . . remember . . . for sure, but I think I’ve lived five or six lives since then . . . .  There might have been more; my memories are very confusing.”

A woman spoke up, disbelieving.  “You’re claiming to remember several lives, any of which could have lasted a hundred years, using a round number.  That’s hundreds of years.”

“I am, but it’s even longer than that; there was at least two elves as well . . . maybe three, I just don’t remember clearly enough.”

The woman scoffed.  “The elves can live for up to eight hundred years, and you’re talking a possibility of three.  Just how far back are you trying to make us believe you remember?”

Derrick’s voice was starting to tremble, but he clenched his hands into fists and tried to do the math.  “Three elves - I think they lived full lives - that’s twenty-four hundred years.  I think there was a halfling - that’s around two hundred years.  I think there was a dwarf too - that’s four hundred years or so.  And I think there were five or six humans, some were clerics, most were druids - say five hundred years.  Altogether that’s thirty-five hundred years or so.”

“That’s nearly fifteen hundred years before Christianity,” said another sitter, incredulous at the very idea.  “I suppose that’s not too far off from the time of Pelorus.”