Hi everyone, sorry for the delay in Zare’s story! I was traveling for several weeks for work, and that has put a serious damper on my story producing ability. My goal is to resume posting next Monday!
-Abigail
Coaster size art
More doodles from my plane trip a few weeks ago. I am really fond of this one. It came out much better than I anticipated.
Zinnias in the air
I was on a plane a couple weeks ago…but I had my watercolor crayons, my water brushes, and my markers. And hours to redeem. I actually got sleepy before I was able to finish the purple zinnia with the red center…but I’ll come back to it! Bajillions of little petals are just what the doctor ordered when you are trapped, tired and a little bored.
30-Ironsides
My brothers and I followed Ironsides into the dim of the house, Vaudrin and Quill entered behind us. Sunshine from a window above our heads provided ample light for the entryway and central hallway of the manor. I looked around. The lower half of the walls was bare stone, the upper was coated in plaster. The entryway was wide, and there were two doors leading into rooms on either side. Iron Sides ignored these and led us down the hallway until it reached the great room. This room was lit by four windows at the moment, but there were also lamps hanging from the ceiling and a generous gray stone fireplace. An assortment of chairs draped in blankets and furs were grouped around the fireplace. In the middle of the room was the dinner table. It was at least twelve feet long and made of thick slabs of knobby olive wood which had been sanded until it was as smooth as glass. Two benches ran down either side and two large chairs sat on one end. Six hunting hounds were sprawled under the table, they leapt up and ran to greet us when we entered.
“Please, sit.” Ironsides gestured to the table. “I will call for food.” He left us to the wriggling of the hounds and went out a door at the back of the room.
Quill bowed slightly, “Take your rightful places, my lords, my lady.”
Namal and Ayglos bowed in return and walked to the table. There was more than one acceptable way to arrange seating, and normally such things would be determined in part by the nature of the visit and relationship with the host. Namal chose to sit on the right bench, and indicated that Ayglos sit on his right. I sat to Ayglos’s right, and Quill and Vaudrin sat across from Ayglos and I, respectively, leaving the seat across from Namal empty. Perhaps for Ironside’s lady, or if he had a chief warrior or advisor he would want in attendance.
Ayglos leaned in, “Does Iron Sides have a proper name?”
Quill and Vaudrin hesitated.
“Ironsides is his name,” said Vaudrin.
“I think the family name is Bairdwynder,” offered Quill with a shrug.
Iron Sides re-entered the room and to our surprise took the seat across from Namal rather than the seat at the head of the table. “Food is on its way,” he announced cheerfully. “Your people have been arrayed in the day laborer’s hall and will also taste my cook’s wizardly food. She is a miracle worker in this times when spices are hard to come by. Now, I have only one question for you: Are these women with you by their own will?” He leveled a stern glare around the table, but especially at Quill and Vaudrin.
“Yes. We rescued them from the garrison at”—Quill began.
“Stop,” Ironsides held up his hand, “That will suffice. I haven’t decided yet if I want to know what Dalyn’s royal guards are doing this far afield.” He pointed at me and my brothers, “Or who they are.”
“Fair enough,” Quill leaned back. “May we spend the night here? We have traveled hard these past several days. Even your barn would be a welcome refuge.”
“That, I can provide,” replied Ironsides, shedding his stern looks and allowing a smile. “Some of you can even have beds—though I can’t sleep forty in the house! And I am still well situated so I can bolster your provisions a bit for wherever you’re headed.”
“We would be grateful,” put in Namal. “Our path has taken unexpected turns, and we did not prepare for so many mouths to feed.”
“Sounds like a marriage,” laughed Ironsides.
Before anyone could react to Ironsides’s joke, the door to the kitchen opened and a pair of maidservants came in carrying platters of food –two each—and two boys around the age of ten scuttled in behind them carrying plates and silverware. Immediately the delightful smell of roast lamb and garlic filled the room. My mouth started to water and I breathed deeply, it had been a lifetime since I’d had roast lamb. The maidservants skillfully placed the platters in the center of the table and the boys breathlessly plunked the plates and silverware in front of each of us.
As the boys turned to scurry away Ironsides reached out and caught the boys by their britches and tugged them back to him. The boys dissolved into giggles as Ironsides’ arms closed around them. “Friends, these are my sons: Alam and Wyck.” The lads squirmed, laughed, then straightened and stared at us with bright eyed curiosity. “They were supposed to stay in the kitchen, little rascals.” He growled gently at them, and they giggled.
“We were helping!” announced the taller one.
“We’re sorry, sir, we told them to stay behind,” one of the maidservants paused close to Ironsides and scowled at the boys.
“I thought as much,” Ironsides turned the boys around to face him, “There now, you’ve seen the strangers, head back to the kitchen and eat your supper.”
The boys had evidently been hoping for a different verdict and their shoulders drooped. “Yes, sir,” they replied. Their unison that much more impressive considering their gloomy tone.
The boys both kissed their father on the cheek before heading back to the kitchen, this time the maids shooed them along before them. I caught snatches of soft scolding as they exited and the door closed behind them. I looked after them wistfully. Ayglos and I had once haunted the kitchens of Galhara. Cooks are very good friends to have–although they will make you earn your handouts. Or at least ours did. There were times when all four of us would loiter in the kitchens and she would task us with preparing herbs–we would race to see who could strip the most rosemary or lavender.
Ironsides’ voice brought me back to the present. “My apologies,” he said, a smile lingering on his face. “I had thought it would be better to keep my lads out from underfoot—considering the times and not knowing what errand you’ve been about. They are good boys, but like all children have a nose for secrets.”
“Sadly a wise choice, I’m afraid,” replied Namal.
“Say no more,” grunted Ironsides, “Let us eat and be grateful for peace tonight.”
I was certainly grateful—the roasted lamb was as perfect as it smelled; moist and laced with garlic. There was also a spinach pastry drowned in butter, and flat bread with tomatoes, hummus and a bowl of pesto. I ate as if I’d never had food before—and I ate too much. No one talked much during dinner. Ironsides occasionally commented about farming or the weather, but most of us were happy enough to commune with the food. After we finished, the maids came back in and Ironsides asked them to show us to rooms, since we were clearly tired.
My limbs were heavy and I felt like a round decanter brimming dangerously full as I followed one of the maids down a hallway and into a modest little room with a bed. She showed me also where the wash house was, and where the lamps were. I thanked her through my food-stupor, and as soon as she left I kicked off my shoes, collapsed on the bed, and burrowed under the blankets. I was awake just long enough to coo over the touch of a real mattress and then I slept without dreams.
Blue clothes
A good middle class outfit for Zare. Messing around with ink pencils again.
Watercolors
I always liked what God had to say about horses–holding them up as an object lesson for Job about how awesome and powerful God is.
29-A very long walk
When I woke up it was dark and I felt a bit better, though my limbs were sore in places from all the swimming. I found Quill and made him change places with me—it was his turn to look weary and not argue. Over the next few days we stopped only for short rests, eating handfuls of road food and passing around water skins while we walked. We had to outdistance any hunt from Gillenwater, and we still hoped to rescue my family. Quill assured us we would find refuge and help in Dalyn, so we set as blistering a pace as we could manage. I wondered, too, if perhaps our family had been sent to Dalyn to take the river to Hirhel instead of going overland.
Though Dalyn had been conquered five years ago, her puppet king was of the rightful line and clearly the city’s spirit was not broken. What with her royal guard marauding around area cities to harass the Nether Queen and all. As with the Nether Queen’s other conquests, the toppling of Dalyn was shrouded in rumor and wild stories. I quickly learned that one contributing factor to the rumors was that none of Quill’s men—who had all lived through the conquest as children—were willing to talk about it. The first day or two, if one of the men wandered close I would ask him what happened and generally their reply was, “Dalyn fell,” spoken with finality as if there were no other variables.
Not that there was much talking of any sort on this march.
Night and day traded places again and again, and still we walked or jogged south and west. Five to ten of Quill’s men were always scouting ahead or to the sides—steering us around hamlets, homes, and other travelers. Quill mostly rode Hook, but still walked for ever lengthening periods to stretch his legs. Having no other duties, I usually walked between the horses.
Our scouts did see hunting parties from Gillenwater’s garrison a few times, and worked hard to lay down misleading trails to confuse the trackers. It appeared to work, because none found us.
The women, even the girls from Gillenwater who were not accustomed to life on the road, were all in good spirits. A few were suffering from colds, but on the whole they were doing very well and keeping up with the soldiers. Sinker was indispensable—providing a mobile resting place for them. Gabe and Balleck, too, were quite busy helping any way they could. I wanted to talk with my circus people—particularly Olena, but there wasn’t really time. What talk was had was between her and Ayglos, for he stayed close to her.
On the fifth day we came to the orderly lanes of an orange orchard. One of the scouts came trotting back to find Quill. The scout fell in step beside Hook and I sidled close to hear what he said. “Iron Sides says it is safe to come ahead.”
“Excellent. We shall have a warm supper tonight.”
The scout grinned and moved off again.
Quill looked down at me, “Iron Sides was once in the royal guard, now he lives here.” Quill gestured to the orange grove. “This estate belonged to his father, but when Dalyn fell it passed to him.”
“Was his father in the army?” I asked quietly.
Quill looked grim. “Not exactly. He was a priest and a seer, and the Nether Queen had him executed.”
“What?” I had not known that she executed priests—and no one executed seers. “Did she kill all the priests in Dalyn?”
“No,” Quill shook his head. “Just the one who was a seer.”
“Perhaps he foresaw her doom,” I said, bitterness creeping into my voice.
“Undoubtedly,” came Quill’s dark reply.
We fell silent and continued along the lanes of the orchard. Soon we started to catch glimpses of laborers and whiffs of cooking fires. Namal joined us and Quill explained about our plans to spend the night with Iron Sides. The peaks of a manor house appeared over the orchard trees, and then the lanes came to an end at a packed dirt yard before the house itself. A well-built man with chin length honey colored hair stood in the doorway to the house with his feet spread and his arms crossed. I guessed he was from Remko’s generation, and I liked him immediately because of the association. He watched the company spill out of the orchard and pool in his yard like an overflown spring, and then he smiled. The look so transformed his face I felt like I was looking at a different man. He stepped forward.
“Quilleran! How you’ve grown!”
“Iron Sides! Yet only one foot in the grave?” asked Quill, dismounting and moving forward to greet Iron Sides with manly back slapping.
“Just a toe,” replied Iron Sides with a grin before turning to Vaudrin. “Vaudrin Lakeside? The guard suits you, too.” Iron Sides was the same height as Vaudrin, but his build was tighter knit and it gave the odd impression that he was a small man. Small and dangerous, like a crossbow quarrel, I thought. “Your men and women we can feed in day laborer’s hall,” Iron Sides was saying, “we’ve been preparing for them since your scouts told us of your approach.”
“Thank you,” said Quill, “And we have three for your hearth, also.” Quill gestured to my brothers and I. “They are allies.”
Iron Sides turned to us. “Come in, and welcome to my home,” he bowed and gestured for us to follow him inside.
Love the Stars
Sharpie, plus marker, plus watercolors.
Available for purchase at http://www.redbubble.com/people/ravenslanding
28-Underway Again
With a deep breath I began to sum up the exploration of the garrison. Telling the story made me feel like my actions were very reckless. I winced as I related my impulsive strike on the men in the girl’s room, and made sure to prominently mention Olena’s news that our family had already been moved. They already knew about the harrowing escape through the tunnel so I didn’t dwell there. My brothers could well remember the unpleasantness of such a project, and the others would never know anyway. I tried to gloss over the skirmish with the patrolmen at the river, and summed up as quickly as I could our getting over the wall and crawling to the woods. I was relieved when Jemin stepped in again to relate his side.
Jemin explained his diversion, that he had gone to the main road and—using those sad remaining sheaves of wheat—lit a fire in the street roughly the shape of a prancing horse, the old seal of Gillenwater.
Quill and Vaudrin were both nodding. “It is too early to involve Dalyn publicly, and under the circumstances implying Galhara’s involvement would be unwise also,” commented Vaudrin.
“Does anyone in Gillenwater actually oppose the Nether Queen?” I asked.
“None love her, but few would have the courage to stand up to her without some great aid,” replied Jemin. “Perhaps the burning horse will give them courage.”
“Perhaps,” said Quill, “But we should move on from this place immediately. If the garrison searches the countryside, we need to be farther than half a day’s walk.”
I felt despair rising in me as I realized there would be no rest. “But we have walked all night, I don’t think the women can keep going like this.” I couldn’t go on like this.
“They have to,” said Namal, looking at me compassionately, “But they can take turns riding Sinker—he can likely carry three at a time.”
A sigh escaped the depths of my being. “Very well. But I would like to change my clothes.” I picked up the hem of my very humble homespun, which was looking even worse after the night of abuse I had given it.
“It will take a little while to get ready to leave, so you have time to freshen up,” Quill looked to Vaudrin. “Have the men get ready, we leave within the hour.”
Vaudrin rose and immediately set about the business of recalling their scouts and sentries.
“Come on, Zare,” Ayglos stood and offered me his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I took the hand up gratefully, and Ayglos led me over to where our packs sat in a tidy pile at the base of a tree. He located mine and handed it to me. I deposited my crossbow and daggers on the ground to take the pack. I rummaged for a clean tunic, trousers, and a linen wash cloth, then ducked behind a larger tree to shed my filthy clothes and shoes. I scrubbed myself quickly, then with a shiver slipped into the dry clothes. I had forgotten what dry clothes felt like—and just how much warmer they were than damp! There was no help for the shoes, and damp shoes were better than nothing. Wadding up my rags I came back around the tree. Ayglos was waiting.
“At our next stop I want to burn these,” I held up my bundle. “They are not worth—nor likely to survive—the effort to scrub the blood out.” I stuffed my distasteful wad in the pack. I wished I could leave it under the tree, but if it was found then the Nether Queen’s soldiers would know they were headed in the right direction.
“How are you?” Ayglos asked, searching my face with his green-flecked eyes.
I shrugged. “Exhausted.” I picked up the leather belt and sheathed daggers and strapped them back around my waist. “And I already feel naked without these.”
“You’re not wounded?” he prodded, pulling out one of our cloaks and draping it around my shoulders. “Or otherwise scarred?”
“Not wounded. If you mean mentally scarred…I don’t know yet.” I sat down and pulled my knees up. “I think I’m fine, but I’m too tired to know for sure. I don’t think I killed them all—there are a couple that I just knocked out. Is that bad? Should I have killed them?”
My brother looked at me, tenderness radiated from him like heat from a hearth fire—a welcome refuge after being out in a storm. “Not necessarily—even if they recognized you, they might not want to own up to being so thoroughly trounced by a seventeen-year-old girl.”
I smirked. “Some girls my age are already ruling kingdoms or raising children, it’s not such an insult.” Though, not many girls my age were running around with knives and swords.
Ayglos smiled, then said, “I guess we always forget that you lived through the siege, too.”
I cocked an eye at him. “And that I fought by your side.”
“Yes, and that you fought by my side.”
“And survived just fine,” I added, “Valiantly. Better than you, even.”
Ayglos prodded me with his foot. “Don’t push it.”
I grinned and closed my eyes. “I wished for you often, never fear.”
Ayglos laughed.
He had beaten me in every single duel we had ever fought. Usually I pretended that wasn’t the case because it was more fun that way. “Wake me up when we’re leaving,” I said.
“Of course.” I heard him walking away as I gave myself to the dark of my eyelids
When Ayglos shook my shoulder I swore that no time had passed—and I was nearly right. It had only taken Quill’s men a half an hour to get ready. Even with finding cloaks for all the girls. It appeared that they simply existed in a state of being able to pick up and run at a moment’s notice. My horses, Sinker and Hook, were standing in the center of the glen, and Gabe was boosting women onto Sinker’s back. I smiled at the women but went straight to the horses and let them sniff my hands. They remembered me. They’d better. I scratched Hook’s neck, and he relaxed into my touch just as much as I into his.
Quill approached. “You should ride, my lady,” he said.
“I still have legs,” I countered, “You’re the one who needs to ride.”
“I will, later,” He stopped next to me. “Jemin and the red-head—Olena?—told me of your deeds. You have earned a ride.”
I was puzzled. “Didn’t I tell you my deeds?”
Quill smiled and arched his eyebrow, my heart flopped. “An abbreviated version, yes. Jemin expounded on your inventiveness, and Olena on your prowess—taking on three men with naught but your daggers and a broken bottle after swimming for two hours with barely a break.”
“Olena killed one of them,” I corrected.
“And playing a ghost to haunt the men on the wall,” his smile broadened to a grin. “I wish I could have seen it. Jemin said you gave him a bit of a turn himself.”
I looked down, then at Hook’s ears. My cheeks were warm from Quill’s praise and I didn’t know what to say. Princesses should know what to say, but my ingenuity was apparently spent for the time being.
“Did you know that this week should have been the Feast of Maten?”
“Maten?” I furrowed my brow. I had forgotten about that feast. The mountain cities observed this feast, it had to do with the man and woman—Maten and Nelia?—who lead the mountain cities to victory against a warlock. “Maten died,” I said slowly, “because he took the warlock personally to the gates of hell…and then didn’t make it back?”
“And after helping the cities rebuild, she disappeared. They say she left to find him, that she roams the earth to this day looking for him.” Quill’s eyes were sparkling. “She had dark hair like you, as the story goes.”
My ears couldn’t get redder as I discovered that the feeling of accidently achieving something incredible felt awfully similar to nearly falling off a cliff. I shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know that.”
“Jemin also told me that you overrode him and kept him from sacrificing himself to cover your escape. I am grateful to you for preserving one of my best men. There aren’t many your age—man or woman—who would have performed so well. Were you not born with rank, I would gladly give you one,” Quill bowed at the waist, “Rest a little, and later I will ride. It’s not a short journey to Dalyn; you’ll get your chance to walk.”
If he was going to insist, I wasn’t going to argue. My spirits bolstered, I mustered enough energy to jump on Hook’s back—rather less gracefully than usual—and once we were underway I nodded off to the rhythm of his walk. Maybe Eloi hadn’t forgotten us.
in-process acrylic
Snapped a picture of my current project–a little tribute to fox hunting, which is a big deal where I live. Before you panic, they don’t actually catch the fox these days. At least not the club I’ve been out with. These hounds don’t even know what they are chasing, but they do love to chase.
Why do people fox hunt? Because following a pack of hounds hot on a scent over hill and dale, finding a trail wherever they take you, is loads of fun. It’s also kinda crazy and dangerous, because excitement and obstacles and stuff. Truly, though, I feel plenty safe when we’re cantering down a narrow trail. It’s the standing around waiting for the hounds to find something–that’s the part I don’t like! Maybe because my mount hates waiting and starts creating entertainment after 5 minutes.
One of these days I will think to put down the background before starting on the fun stuff in the foreground. But it is not this day.
The Legend of Zare Caspian 