I’m quite pleased with how this one turned out. Planning to add it to my shops as soon as I can. Question is: Do I remove the lingering pencil lines or not?
Portals
creative process
Looking for Zare? Click here for Episode 44!
I have rewritten the next post in Zare’s story–almost entirely–3 times. I’ve been pecking at it for weeks in between work, holidays, and hours spent studying for my exams.
It got a little better, but still wasn’t what it should be. I thought and thought about it. Once exams were behind me, I tried to give myself time to be quiet (did chores without music or audio books). That helped, but the episode wasn’t fixed yet.
Finally, I gave up and read a book (Crown of Midnight, if you’re curious) and was filled with a deep desire to write. So I wrote. Re-wrote, really.
Finally, finally, I feel like the story has a heading again. The episode is ringing true. It’s not done (I suspect I won’t feel it is until I’ve got at least an entire episode or two after it written) but it’s just a matter of tweaking now. There shouldn’t be thousand word restarts for this baby. Not anymore.
I hope.
The Un-funeral
It’s hardly fair to Thomdal. He was a gentle soul and everyone in the village liked him while he lived. But I was willing to bet good money that the only one listening to the eulogy was Priest Bayer and that was only because he was giving it.
Every eye was fixed on the open casket at the front of the chapel–to look elsewhere would be to cast suspicion. The soldiers lounging at the back of the chapel watched the funeral proceedings casually. They seemed mercifully unaware that the boiling tension in the room was not grief.
Priest Bayer finished and it took the congregation a half beat too long to realize he’d extended the Last Goodbye invitation. Hurriedly, the first row stood and filed up to pay their last respects to Thomdal. I watched the soldiers out of the corner of my eye as the rest of the congregation took their turns as if nothing were amiss. The soldiers were only here because they were told to watch us, and we were all here. They had no reason to suspect what was really going on. At least, that’s what we told ourselves. Each congregant filed past Thomdal’s coffin, their faces carefully masking what else was in the coffin–that tucked against good Thomdal’s corpse was a golden bow the height of man. The Kingmaker of Achen was no ordinary bow–and the youth crouched at the foot of the casket was no ordinary child. If the soldiers found our village hiding either, we would all be ash on the wind by sundown.
Life as a Side Kick
Looking for Zare? Click here for Episode 44!
There are a lot of perks to being a sidekick: All the adventure you could want and almost none of the responsibility–it’s the hero’s job to save the day, you just have to help. Plus, you usually survive disasters, which I’ve always found appealing.
No, life as a sidekick wasn’t so bad, but it occasionally led to awkward surprises. Like a strange, freakishly beautiful woman being present when you wake up–in all your ruffled, untucked, possibly drooling glory.
“Who is she??” I demanded hotly, jolting awake and scrambling to my feet.
“Sam, this is Shaya,” explained Declan (the hero, in case you couldn’t tell from his name), “Shaya this is Sam.” Nothing ruffled Declan, so anyone listening to our introduction might have thought we were in a cocktail lounge rather than a lifeboat. Of course, even sunburnt and scruffy, Declan would have made any cocktail lounge proud–even if he would have stood out like a sore, super sexy, thumb.
The lifeboat, I might add, was adrift in the ocean alone when I went to sleep. As it happens, it was still adrift in the ocean alone. Perhaps I had underestimated Declan’s ability to attract women…I stuffed my shirt into my pants and finger-combed my hair in a quick swipe–not that it really mattered. “What a pleasure to meet you,” I pasted on my biggest smile and held out my hand.
She looked at me with a cautious and slightly confused smile of her own.
“A handshake is a gesture of greeting,” piped Declan, seeing her hesitation. He grabbed my hand and pumped it a couple times. “See?” He handed my hand to her, and she imitated his movement with significantly less bone crushing.
“A pleasure to meet you, too, Sam,” she said. She sounded like she was from an Ivy League school. Interesting.
“Don’t take this personally,” I said–might as well ask, Declan could get us out of whatever huff I got us into, “but how the heck did you get on this boat? And did you bring food?”
“I came for help,” she answered.
Of course, because that explains it.
“The leviathan that sank our ship has lost its mind and is rampaging on the ocean floor,” said Declan.
“I’m sorry?” I offered, figuring that was close to the right answer.
“Shaya has come to ask for our help putting it out of its misery,” he finished, his blue eyes sparkling at the prospect of an adventure. “And of course saving her homeland.”
Naturally. I nodded. Just when I thought I was used to all the crazy stuff heroes assume is normal, Declan finds something totally new to throw at me. But I’m a sidekick, and I know how to roll with the punches. I got this.
Sisters
Not my best work with markers–this is definitely a first pass at this scene, but you get the general idea. This is Zare telling Nadine about her adventures.
ruins
This is one of my earlier electronic sketches, learning how to use layers to my advantage. Originally I’d conceived this as Zare going back to visit the ruins of Galhara, but it could also be Zare exploring the ruined villa. Though, far too green to be the ruined villa–it is, after all, fall there.
Bring home Night Horse
Green glow
The Legend of Zare Caspian 