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!
PROLOGUE
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.
“Going
once…”
Besides,
what would he do with these little peasant children anyway? He had never raised
a child in his lifetime, let alone five.
“Going
twice…”
But
that didn’t really matter. Besides, he could always use them to help with farm
labor and such.
He
raised his hand.
“100.”
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.
“We
did…”
“Where
are they now?”
“I
don’t know.”
“Are
they alive?”
“I
don’t know.”
“Where
did you come from?”
“Sabatia.”
“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.
“Rosyar.”
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,
