Welcome, welcome... to a long-neglected WriterlyWednesday post. I have some fun and exciting things to share with you today...er, this evening, so stay tuned.
One of them namely, is music related.
A fellow writer from GTW, Sam Graber, transposed my arrangement of Enya's Boadicea!
Sooo, you can now grab your own PDF sheet, right here! Isn't that exciting? I'm really thrilled about it- it's the first of my covers which has been officially made into sheet music. *does happy dance*
A big shout-out to Sam for taking the time to do this!
Let me tell y'all - for you people that are already playing piano, this song should be a breeze for you. And yet, even though it's so simple and easy to play, it still has that awesome Enya ambience to it. So it's a win-win situation! (Go check it out!)
Now. Just the other day, I was asked to expound a little on Arden and the Rehoboam medieval-fantasy novel which my song "Marred Legacy" was inspired from.
I wasn't originally planning to post anything directly from the manuscript, not for a while anyways, but after a bit of work on it today, I figured - heck, why not. I'm pretty pleased with it so far.
So, here you go, guys. I hope you enjoy it! Please don't be shy about giving honest feedback!
Things have not always existed as they do today.
History repeats itself, but change comes in a variety of different forms.
Just as castles crumble to dust within the passing of time, so the purity and perfection of mankind has dissolved since the day that we allowed ourselves to be deceived by a Serpent.
Change can be an evil thing, and all too often it is thus.
But in years long past among the souls of the great country Apriori, it was not so. A change of a good tide had rolled over the nation’s great borders.
Swords were exchanged for plows and tilling tools and fields of corn stretched for miles underneath the giant golden sun.
The great land of Apriori had just awoken from a dark age of war against one of the most fearsome enmities in its world. Apriori was free once more, and no longer did its people lay to disintegrate in great seas of crimson blood.
Rosyar was a peaceable man, in those times. In that age, he was a man content on going about his own business, and he didn’t care to mingle in the affairs of others. His heart retained good and mercy, even though he was a man of few words and generally approved of keeping to himself.
Now it happened that one day; this solitary fellow was going through town making his routinely errands, when he spotted a thing that normally would have not have caused him to take notice. His eyes beheld the weekly auction taking place. 5 young children stood, fettered, in the center of the meeting place courtyard - a small crowd gathered around, talking amongst themselves.
For a moment Rosyar didn’t take much thought of this, and silently he kept walking onward.
But for whatever curious reason, he found himself stopping; looking at the small younglings huddled together with pieces of iron bound on their wrists and ankles.
A chill entered Rosyar’s being, and the man stood motionless, haunted by the scared-looking little faces in the courtyard. What a peculiar thing this was, indeed – many a day had he quickly observed the events at the public auction, and many a time had slaves been sold before his eyes. Why was this moment any different than the others?
But somehow, it was. He decided to venture over to the crowd of onlookers, and observe quietly the outcome of the children.
He watched keenly, captivated. Maybe it was the protective arms of the older girl, clinging to the baby against her chest. Or perhaps the middle-sized boy, holding the hands of his younger twin sisters.
Rosyar had never been very acquainted with youngsters. He could only remember one relative, a niece, when she was a baby. It was nothing phenomenal and hardly even remained a point in his memory.
So thus he did not recognize any of the children to be from any state of importance, let alone very different than the usual street urchins. Still he was drawn to them, for a reason unidentifiable.
He tarried, absorbed in studying the five, and was about to leave when he heard someone call out a bid.
“80 shekels for the two elder ones together” A voice penetrated the low hum of voices. The older girl’s free hand instinctively reached down, encircling her other siblings protectively.
Rosyar’s heart was pained suddenly at the sight and realization the children would be split up if this person were to obtain them.
“What of the other infants? I want them all to go together so I may be rid of them entirely.” A thick, masculine-in-appearance woman said firmly. Rosyar studied the female quickly. She must have been the owner of the five.
The person who had previously inquired shrugged, but raised his hand higher to confirm his bid. “I still want them. I can always turn the littles out in the forest if need be.”
“Fine.” The woman replied, emotionlessly. “Anyone higher than 80 shekels? Do I hear 90?”
Rosyar‘s hand rose up, almost involuntarily, in fact. All eyes turned to him. He swallowed, realizing what he had just done. What in the world had gotten to him? He looked at the big-eyed children, standing there in the midst of a sea of strangers.
Suddenly he felt a resurgence of compassion for them, even though he had no clue what in the world he might do with the little family. “90.” He announced, clearing his throat.
The woman appeared pleased. “Anyone higher than 90? Do I hear 95?”
A hand rose.
The woman inquired again, “Do I hear 100?”
Rosyar released a long sigh. What was he doing? 100 shekels wasn’t a small amount of money, and it would take him a good while to earn it back.
Besides, what would he do with these little peasant children anyway? He had never raised a child in his lifetime, let alone five.
But that didn’t really matter. Besides, he could always use them to help with farm labor and such.
He raised his hand.
So there the fellow was, going up and asking that the children be unfettered.
He had bought them, now they were his responsibility. But whatever would he do with them? Especially the 3 littlest, a baby and two toddlers? For the love of Zenith.
Examining each member of the clan, he quickly escorted the children from the bustle of the auction.
“What’s your name?” He asked the oldest girl, a dark haired child with searing ice-grey eyes.
“Kelita.” She answered quietly, still gripping the infant as tightly as before.
“Kelita?” Rosyar repeated. That sounded awfully familiar.
His heart sunk, as the girl nodded distrustfully. A sick sensation plagued his stomach. O, it couldn’t be! Suddenly he realized the connection. Was it possible this scrawny girl standing in front of him now was the baby niece he had held in his arms years ago? The daughter of his brother Rudekk?
No, it couldn’t be.
Why would she be here, now? Whatever did happen to Rudekk and Virgata, anyway? And who were these other children?
“Are these your kin?” He inquired of Kelita.
“Aye, my brothers and sisters.” The girl replied, undaunted.
Rosyar stood back and looked at the group again. Sighing, he pondering to himself the possibility. It was true, yes quite true that the last time he’d seen Kelita was when she was a baby. Thus he didn’t know what she would have looked like in the present day, if he were to see her again. There was no way to know since he had not gone to visit Rudekk and Virgata since the war’s beginning.
There was a slight chance….maybe….
“Do you have any parents?” He led the group away from the town’s commotion, to his own abode in the woods.
“Where are they now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are they alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did you come from?”
“Isn’t that a rather dangerous place for such young children?”
“We had to escape the soldiers.”
Rosyar’s eyebrows furrowed. Was this child telling the truth or was she simply attempting to give her new master the hardest time she could muster?
He didn’t recall Rudekk’s family residing within the realm of Sabatia. Maybe this was indeed a wild, insane notion after all.
“What were your parents’ names?” Still, he must at least know a bit more exposition on these children, if he was to keep them under his own roof.
Kelita was silent, her eyes shifty and doubting as they stared up at Rosyar. The girl was clearly distraught.
“Please tell me child, I may know of their whereabouts.” He lied, hoping to gain her trust.
The man thought he saw Kelita’s eyes almost light up in hope. “Honest?”
He smiled, persuasively. “Honest.”
“Rudekk and Virgata.” She replied slowly, as if the words were knives cutting her tongue as they slipped across.
Rosyar caught his breath, and his gaze shot away from the children, absentmindedly.
Was he hearing things? How in the world…. Was it just some incredible coincidence that this girl happened to have the same name and parents’ names as did his kin? It didn’t seem possible…but what else could it be? Could it truly be his little niece?
“Do you have any relatives?” His heart rate increased in dread.
“Such as cousins?”
“Such as cousins?”
“No…aunts, uncles, that sort.”
“Well, mother said once I had an uncle still alive somewhere,” The girl’s tone was as indifferent as her facial expression.
“Did she tell you his name?” Rosyar found himself swallowing, none too happy with the way things were looking so far.
The words fell as if they were a rock, a great heaving boulder. Rosyar almost choked stifling a cough, feeling like a tremendous force had slammed through his body. This was simply impossible.
Arriving at the front door of his homely bungalow, the fellow turned around quickly, his long black tresses swinging over his shoulders.
He hadn’t intended for any of this to happen. None of it, none at all. This event was the last thing the introverted man had needed to enter his life.
“Did you ever live in Bloodwort?” His voice snapped, agitated.
Kelita nodded subtly, staring up at him with fearful eyes.
“What happened to your father?” Rosyar whisked out his house key from a side pouch on his left hip, and inserted it into the front door’s keyhole.
“He… was called away to fight.” Kelita wrapped her petite arms more protectively around the miniscule baby, as it started to whimper.
Rosyar swallowed, pausing a moment. Rudekk…his brother…could easily be dead this very moment. For all he knew, he’d been dead for years.
Rattling the iron key roughly in the keyhole until it finally caused the door to open, he growled
“What of your mother?” The man swung open the door with such force it slammed against the wall, startling the infant, who let out an ear-piercing wail.
“She stayed behind to distract Varchess’ soldiers...” Kelita began rocking up and down on her small heels, in an attempt to comfort the child. “…So we could run into the forest.” She continued to stare at the ebony haired man, in a mixture of contempt and distrust.
Rosyar closed his eyes, taking in the news. He didn’t know quite rightly what to say. It was very likely both Rudekk and Virgata were now dead –leaving Kelita, and apparently his other nieces and nephews, permanently orphaned. What a fine fix.
In those days, Rosyar was a man who would risk his life to save another’s, but only if it proved the utter last resort. The fellow wasn’t fond of heroic efforts or patriotism, nor did he stick his neck out for just any person that cried for help. Why in the name of all the heavens had he done such a rash thing, on this day? What insanity had stirred within his indifferent heart, that such a choice would be made?
The man let out a long sigh, resting his arm against the pine door frame and letting his head sink against it.
Rosyar Seosamh wasn’t created to be a father.
And there you have it! Hope you enjoyed!
Have a blessed day,