Andrew is sat watching the horse racing. His horse loses and he slams his fist into the bar.
Andrew: God dammit.
Andrew turns around and sits back at the bar.
Barman: Betting much?
Andrew gives him a dirty look.
Andrew: More than I care to mention.
Barman: I saw you on the walker show tonight. Sure, betting is the best thing you should be doing? Andrew: Didn’t know you were paid to give me advice.
Barman smiles. Barman: No, I’m here to get drinks for washed up actors. So can I get you one?
Andrew: Cheapest whiskey.
Barman: I will make it a double.
Grace walks into the bar and immediately stands next to Andrew. Grace: Hey sugar.
Andrew turns around and smiles at her. They share a quick kiss.
Andrew: How was your day?
Grace grabs a stool and sits at the bar.
Grace: Nothing sensational. Just doing auditions for a commercial all day. I swear to god, I don’t know where Hollywood finds kids that can act. London is full of prima donna parents with kids that can only speak as though they are asking a question. God child actors make me sick.
Andrew looks up at her.
Andrew: I started as a kid
Grace: And look where that has gotten you.
Barman comes back over with Andrew’s whiskey. Andrew reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of change. Grace looks down as Andrew begins to count it out. Andrew hands the barman the money who walks away.
Grace: Andrew what happened to the money you got for Shakespeare last week?
Andrew grabs the glass and empties it.
Grace: You didn’t did you? On the horses?
Grace grabs hops off the stall.
Grace: I’m going to get something to eat.
Grace storms off Andrew signals for another drink.
David puts down his briefcase and crashes on the sofa.
David: Just had a meeting with one of my producers.
Abi walks into the room with two glasses of wine, she hands one to David who takes a sip out of it.
Abi: Did he finally have a script worth reading?
David: It was good but nothing that we want to produce. I’m looking for something with a bit of spark a bit of life to it.
Abi: Did you speak to Mark today?
David nods.
Abi: And he turned you down?
David gives Abi a wry smile.
David: That kid has never turnt anything down in his life, I put the seeds in his head and I swear to god he won’t stop now till he writes me something. He’s just that sort of guy, I gave him a challenge and he will want to complete it.
Abi: I better start losing weight then if I’m going to be in a television show again.
David: And here I was thinking you had given up on that game.
David kisses her.
Abi: For Mark I would come back to acting. He is just the best.
David suddenly sits up straighter. David: Talking of Mark, he is on the Walker Show today.
David gets the remote and changes the channel. Camera focuses on the Tv as it shows Mark sitting on a stage with Walker
Abi: turn it up, I love listening to him. Scene cuts to Mark on the screen sitting with Walker.
Walker: So, after that exciting start, what do you attribute your success to?
Mark has a slight smile.
Mark: I don’t put it just down to one thing. I was well financed early on which allowed me to get it out there more. I guess the main reason though is the fact that this story has something for everyone. You can relate to nearly every character and that’s important when you want to escape into something. I tried to give people something that they could step into, that they could feed this story into their own world. That they could be the ones fighting for a greater cause.
Walker: Must help when most authors don’t look like you do.
Mark blushes. Mark: Stop it.
Mark sits up straighter.
Mark: It can’t be denied that my youth has had an effect. Not many authors get welcomed onto shows like this. I just hope that my use of social media and really coming from an ordinary back ground will get young people more involved in literature cause it really is just a pure art, an art that at times can transport you like no television or film ever could. When you read its personal and art should be personal.
Scene cuts back to David and Abi.
David: That’s what I mean Kid.
Abi: he just inspires you doesn’t he?
David: That’s the spark that I am after.
Scene cuts back to Mark again.
Walker: A nice sentiment but it can’t be denied that your story hasn’t caused controversy. Your first novel faced a boycott by some young mental health groups and then there was that…Mark cuts her off.
Mark: if you are going to start about those online forums threatening to kill themselves over my story, then I think we should end the interview now.
Walker: But someone did kill themselves over your story.
Mark: Allegedly he wrote some stuff
Walker: And he killed five other people as well.
Slight pause. Mark’s eyes go cold and a small smile creeps onto his face.
Mark: This is the misconceptions made by the media about this type of incident. To attribute the deaths of those innocent people to myself is disgusting and damn right offensive to them. There is a serious underlying social issue which relates to the isolation and loss of masculinity for a certain group of young people. Instead of trying to solve these issues they decide to blame someone like me because what politician ever got elected saying he wanted to do something to benefit the lives of young men.
Cut to show Anni shaking her head. Cuts back to Mark Walker: Be that as it may
Mark: Listen. The reason people yelled at me for this thing was because they don’t understand what it means to be a part of the involuntarily celibate movement. It doesn’t make good news unless it’s to demonize someone like me. If my story was about islamists terrorism and shortly after release a bombing happened. Do you honestly believe my name would have been mentioned once?
Walker looks stunned? Cuts back to David.
David: Good answer Kid.
In the background Walker: I think that’s time for a break.
Abi stands up.
Abi: I’m going to finish dinner
David stands up with her. Abi begins to cough.
David: Still got that cold?
Abi: Struggling to shake it.
David grabs the wine from the table and then hands it over to Abi. She takes a sip out of it. Then she looks at David. Abi: You look tired.
David: This is it. This is my last chance at getting something out into the world, if it doesn’t happen now, then I may just go back to working in a shop.
Abi: The next thing you work on will change the lives of millions. Abi puts her fork into the food, blows on it and then feeds it to David. He smiles.
David: OH yeah that’s good.
He turns around.
David: Let me know when it is ready, I’m going to read some more of this script.
The Escape from Humanity will no longer be available for purchase in the Amazon store. Escape was the first novel I ever wrote at the tender age of sixteen and has kept many of the flaws that you have when first starting out in your literary career. While publishing The Sundering of the Two Moons, I realised how far I have come as a writer, with my own style. That style is lacking from the Escape from Humanity, so much so that I cannot even read it myself for reference without cringing. Therefore I have taken the hard decision to un-publish it while I work on a full re-write and re-publish. I hope to bring the same level of quality that I believe I showed in the Sundering of the Two Moons and kick off the Knights of Earth Saga the way it deserves before the publication of the third book in the series late next year. The new edition of the Escape from Humanity should be available early next year with a brand new title- KNOWLEDGE LOST.
I hope I can bring you the start of Thomas Lita’s journey in a fun and action packed way, written to the standard that I expect from myself. In the mean time you can still check out The Sundering of the Two Moons, a collection of short stories tied in with the Thomas Lita universe. This is now available as Hardback, truly showcasing Emily Mortimer’s amazing art work.
Mark is stood in a room while Anni sorts out his tie.
Anni: So they are going to ask you questions about the first book, about how you came up with the idea and how Peter came to fund it.
Mark: I better come up with a better story than I was sat in my room and decided to write a book then.
Anni laughs as she straightens his collar.
Anni: Yeah just a little bit more exciting than that. How about on the toilet?
Mark: I really don’t need to put that idea into people’s heads.
She steps back and then grabs some notes.
Anni: Then they are going to ask you about your rise to fame before finishing the interview with a small talk about the next book.
Mark grabs some coffee and takes a sip out of it.
Mark: Sounds good.
Anni: There is a small chance that they may ask you about your political commentary but Kevin has told me to tell you, that nobody wants to hear it.
Mark: I’m known for my wit and political knowledge.
Anni: yeah but the people who watch this show don’t care about politics.
Mark: Actually the forty year old women who watch this show are probably the most active voters.
Anni nods.
Anni: Yeah but they aren’t watching you for that.
Mark: It’s my charm isn’t it?
Anni: Actually I just think they want to mother you.
Mark puts down the coffee.
Mark: So no political conversation. Anything else before I disappear?
Anni: yeah, afterwards Kevin asked that you speak to a journalist for the Sunday mirror.
Mark: Seriously?
Anni smiles devilishly.
Anni: Seriously, you will want to take this interview.
Mark looks fed up.
Mark: Okay then.
Mark goes to leave but stops.
Mark: Who am I on with again?
Anni goes all gooey eyed. Anni: Andrew Johnson
Mark raises his eyebrow
Mark: That young soap actor?
Anni: Yeah
Mark turns away
Mark: Okay I will pretend that I know who he is.
Anni: Get me his autograph? Mark: See you later
Mark opens the door and leaves.
Camera follows him out as he walks towards the green room, he nods and smiles at a few people before walking into the green room. Andrew is in there watching racing on his phone. He looks stressed.
Mark: How you doing?
Andrew looks up he smiles and then stands as Mark walks up to him.
Mark: Mark Wilson
They shake hands
Mark: Your Andrew right?
Andrew: So they tell me.
The door opens and they look towards it. A young girl is stood in the door.
Lucy: Ah Mr Wilson you’re here, is there anything I can get you?
Mark leans back and smiles.
Mark: No I’m fine thank you?
Andrew smiles and shakes his head. Lucy: Lucy
Lucy smiles back at Mark.
Lucy: I will get you when we are ready.
Mark: Thank you Lucy.
Lucy leaves and shuts the door. Andrew laughs.
Andrew: I used to remember when I could do that.
Mark looks at him strangely.
Mark: Do what?
Andrew: Stand there and turn on the charm for the assistants.
Mark nods and looks down.
Mark: What are you watching?
Andrew: Just a bit of horseracing.
Mark: Fair enough
Andrew: You watch it?
Mark: Not really, I’ve never got into it.
Andrew: Why is that?
Mark: My parents are strict catholic they don’t like gambling, plus the press criticise me enough as it is without adding gambling to the mix.
Andrew: I know what that’s like
Mark: Oh yeah, I remember about all of that.
Andrew looks confused.
Andrew: You remember?
Mark waves it away. Mark: My sister Anni was a great fan of Cooper street, when she was younger.
Andrew: And you weren’t?
Mark: I was more into political commentary and yelling at the news.
Andrew: Sounds exciting.
Mark: Got me where I am today. Andrew: Tell me about it
An awkward silence follows.
Mark: So what are you doing now?
Andrew looks down.
Andrew: Nothing of worth, only got a slot on here because I did a charity gig the other week. Can’t get my face on anything at the moment.
Mark stops leaning on the wall and looks hard at Andrew.
Mark: Seriously why is that?
Andrew: Well
The door opens cutting Andrew off. Lucy is stood in the doorway?
Lucy: Mr Wilson, they are ready for you.
Mark looks over at Andrew and then back up at Lucy and smiles
Andrew: Not much just thought I would spend some pocket money.
Andrew walks up to the counter where the clerk is waiting.
Clerk: How did your show go?
Andrew: Got to love a good bit of Shakespeare.
Clerk: Better than that soap?
Andrew shrugs.
Andrew: Not as well paid as that soap.
Customer: Hey why don’t you go back into television?
Andrew: Waiting for the right time.
Clerk: What can I do for you?
Andrew pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to the Clerk.
Clerk: Full spread at Exeter, Worcester and Chelmsford. Heavy day don’t you think. Sure, you wouldn’t want to place a few on now and come back before Worcester and Chelmsford start?
Andrew: No, I’ve got an interview later and I will be stuck in the green room for most of the day. Need something to watch
Clerk gives him a concerned glance it gets even more surprising when Andrew hands him a huge amount of Cash.
Clerk: I will have to lay some of these, how do you want it spread?
Andrew: Same amount on them all. I’m feeling lucky.
Clerk: I’ve got a bad feeling in my stomach.
Andrew waits while the tickets are printed. He nervously checks over at the racing on the TV. A coin shaking on his hand. Finally he nods and walks over to a fixed betting machine and begins to play. End scene
Mark is sat in his office in his apartment, he is editing one of his books.
Mark: ANNI
Anni walks into the room.
Anni: Yeah
Mark: Did Kevin call to let me know the final preparations for the Walker show?
Anni: not yet but I can get hold of him now if you want?
Mark: Thank you.
Anni goes to leave but stops as Mark speaks.
Mark: Anni, when are you going to get a real job?
Anni: As soon as I’ve finished my degree.
Mark laughs
Mark: Yeah that is never going to happen.
The doorbell rings. Anni leaves to go answer it. Mark works as he listens to Anni speak with someone.
Anni: I will see if he is available.
Anni returns looking confused.
Anni: There is a guy here called David Andrews.
Mark looks shocked.
Mark: Really? Let him in
Anni leaves. A few seconds pass and David walks in. Mark stands up and shakes his hand.
Mark: David. This is a surprise, how’s Abi?
Mark and David sit in armchairs.
David: Yeah she’s brilliant.
A slight pause.
Mark: What brings you here?
David: I’ve just read your book its fantastic, I thought I would come by and let ya know I’m really proud of you kid.
Mark smiles.
Mark: Thank you very much. What are you working on now?
David: You remember Peter?
Mark: yeah I speak to him all the time, he financed my first novel.
David: Me and him have gone into business together, looking at starting a small show.
Pause
Mark: Really that’s brilliant, you will do great with it.
David: I didn’t just come here to congratulate you. I was wondering if you wanted to do a bit of screen writing for us.
Mark smiles and looks down.
Mark: David I would love to help you out I really would. You’re a great Director and you don’t deserve the disrespect the industry shows you, but I’ve got so much going on. My next book is set to be an international best seller, I’m going over to America in a
David: I get it.
Mark: I’ve worked hard to get here; don’t you reckon it’s a backwards step doing a bit of screen writing. David: Mark I get it. I can’t go five minutes without seeing you on my Tv. I just thought. Well I can’t a team together. We are starting small, no network backing. I don’t want to put the drab rubbish you see on Tv today I want to create something special and you know what? There aren’t that many people around with the gifts to do that. I just thought that, well you are one of the best story tellers I know. You write and people just listen.
Mark: Flattering me now?
David: Well it was worth a try.
Mark: Well if I have any ideas I will let you know and I will keep my ear to the ground for any writers I run into.
David nods and stands up. Mark stands and shakes his hand.
David: Peter rates you highly, if you change your mind, we could really do something special with this.
Mark: I will look into it.
David walks out the door and Anni lets him out. Mark sits down and a smile appears on a corner of his mouth.
Anni: What did he want?
Mark: David’s a television director but he got sacked after the network made loads of changes and his show flopped. Now no one will hire him. He’s gone in with Peter who financed my novel. He wants me to do some screen writing.
Anni: You should do it.
Mark: why?
Anni smiles sarcastically
Anni: barely anyone reads books anymore.
Mark: Get out of here.
Mark looks down and then across at his novel that is lying on the desk. He then opens a new document on his computer. He looks up and smiles slowly before typing on his computer. “Scene One.”
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“I want to know why I was summoned?” Urgarak yelled as he stopped in the threshold of the door, his breath stolen at the vastness of the grand hall. He had been inside its white walls before but rarely enough that the hugeness of it still made him feel like a tiny speck in the universe. He looked towards the great domed roof, supported by two figures both standing far over fifty feet. He cast his eyes away from the marble, sculpted in the likeness of the first kings of Scaraden, who had formed the eternal empire. Urgarak marched forward, a ceremonial cape billowing with every step. A couple of paces behind two of his Murka generals followed, their arms scraping the red floor tiles. As he walked, Urgarak straightened the medal on his chest. The image of the flag of his ‘home’ planet filled him with confidence, even if the red moon of the warrist movement would outrage the members of the council. The chairs of the hall were empty along Urgarak’s march but statues of all the high kings stared down at him from marble eyeballs but Urgarak kept his own eyes on the stage in front of him. Eight of the nine seats were occupied and the figures were sat forward watching Urgarak as intently as the statues did. Urgarak stopped at their feet and bowed at the large marble figures that stood behind the council. The king eternals, those who had led Abgdon during times of war. He wished beyond anything that they were here now, they would understand his cause. Two were out there somewhere. Prisoners of those Ilmgralite fools. Only the third had died truly, one of only a small few of the Ilma who had died after the curse had come upon them. The council regarded Urgarak with their golden eyes and Urgarak met their stares confidently, but he could not keep his gaze from moving to the middle seat of the council that sat empty. It would seem King Crio would not entertain him. “Urgarak Mortrim.” One of the figures said. He was wearing robes of pure white that seemed to match perfectly with his fully white scaled skin. That made Urgarak snarl, the perfection of the Ilma. His skin was covered in red scales and many dotted his narrow face. “Gorin.” He replied scornfully. “Remember your place Graul.” Came another voice from a far chair. Urgarak’s eyes strayed towards him and black veins flared before he could control it. Urgarak took a deep breath, he had to remember what he was. The Ilma were the chosen people after all, his power was just a gift. Urgarak turned his frustration back into the cruel determination for his cause and so turned his eyes back to Gorin, “My place.” He murmured, “Is to hunt down those who hold the essence of our people captive. To bring war to a race who has aided the Ilmgralite’s in their tyrannical hold on the universe.” Gorin stood swiftly, the air in the hall seemed to surround Urgarak and his eyes flicked to the floor in fear, “We called you back one season ago.” The head of the council said without showing any of the anger Urgarak was sure he felt, “Yet you returned to Uralese, that was a mistake.” Urgarak’s golden eyes flashed black for a second and he spoke grimly, “Uralese is still a troublesome world, our might should not be forgotten there long. I returned our fleet and came with the only ship I could spare.” An old lord stood. He looked like he was close to his rebirthing, but he still spoke with the musical power of the Ilma, “It is impressive for one of the Graul to rise so high within our ranks.” Urgarak nodded but it was an insult and he knew it, “You were sent to Earth to find evidence of Cirtroug’s imprisonment, not to release him.” He took a deep laboured breath, “We have all seen the signs. The Gods are moving, they are planning their final strike to crush the Ilma. Crio will avoid war at all costs.” “Crio is a coward.” Urgarak said before he could stop himself. “HOLD YOUR TONGUE.” Gorin yelled and all the air was sucked from Urgarak’s lungs and he stood, gasping in the vacuum that Gorin had created. Urgarak could feel the pressure swelling his eyes and his chest tightening. His legs wanted to fall but it seemed Gorin was holding him up as well. Slowly with a white smile, the Ilma released him. The first breath after the denial was like syrup. “What do you know of Uralese?” Urgarak asked through his deep breaths, “It must seem a troublesome place, the once slave world of Ilmgral. What petty trifles did they ask for it? You should see it high council, Graul, Murka and Livet children starve in the streets while wars rage across its continents. It is a forgotten world.” The old Lord spoke again, “All Uralese is worth is the Virdact that we mine from it, the Livet’s could barely write before we found them and now they live in luxury.” “Starvation is not Luxury.” Urgarak said grimly, “Uralese needs a war, only in war do our people find sufficient work, only then DO YOU NOT LEAVE US TO ROT.” “YOU WERE SENT TO STUDY EARTH, NOT TO RELEASE THAT MANIAC CIRTROUG UPON THE HUMANS.” Gorin yelled and thunder crackled in the sky above Scaraden. Urgarak took a step back, “I did release him.” He muttered, “On Uralese the truth of the Gods was shown to me, the true legacy of the Ilma. I harness it now and it showed me how we can defeat both the Gods and the Ilmgralites. Earth is the key, the one who defeated Cirtroug was of Ilmgral, reskinned among the humans with all their divine darkness.” He saw the dark look in the councils eyes and decided to press further, “Not only did the Ilmgralites create those abominations on Earth, not only did they imprison Abgdon’s great heroes on that world, but they send their people to live among them, to breed them into the army Ilmgral needs to rule this universe. I will not stand by and let that happen. You are the Ilma, the chosen people, tasked with keeping the Gods from tearing our universe apart. Well the Gods work through Ilmgral. I can see it in the stars, and they will use Earth to finally crush us.” Gorin seemed tired, his eyes fell pityingly onto Urgarak. A sign of mortality, he thought. Urgarak would not have much longer in the universe and his haste for war was due to that fact. The council of the Ilma of Scaraden had none of those issues. Gorin had served since the first days of Abgdon. His father, who gave his energy to terraform Abgdon, had been born just after the curse had been bestowed to the Ilma. Gorin had patience and he would not let Urgarak lead Crio into a war where only the destruction of the universe would follow. Gorin returned to his seat, “Urgarak.” He paused, “You are hereby suspended from command. You will return to Uralese and surrender your fleet to Flight Marshal Cambane.” Urgarak smiled, black smoke coursed through his veins, darkening his mind. He knew it would come to this. If the council would do nothing, it was best that he was a part of no nation to fight the war his way until both Abgdon and Ilmgral had no choice but to intervene, “As you wish my Lords.” He bowed low and looked at the statues of the kings, “May the eternal church never falter and the Gods tremble at the might.” The council elders nodded and watched as Urgarak and his two servants left the hall in disgrace. Gorin turned to the Lord beside him who whispered in Gorin’s ear, “We should blast him out of the sky.” “No.” Gorin shook his head, “Urgarak is a fool, reckless and narrowminded, blind to anything else but his goal and that will one day see him to his death but he is beloved on Uralese. The empire of the Ilma have split once already and we do not need the resource planets rising up under his dark dream.” Gorin then signalled for one of the guards, who had sat silently behind, to step forward. The Ilma who stood beside Gorin was young in terms of the Ilma, he had never lost the physical form he held but he was powerful and full of youthful aggression, “You will go with Urgarak and make sure he follows our command. It would be good for the people of Uralese to see one of the Guardians of Eternity.” “As you wish my Lord.” The man said and he marched quickly to follow Urgarak. “War is upon us.” The old Lord continued, “Crio will not be able to delay it. We should recall our fleet. If the foretold war is not against Ilmgral then it will be against the Gods themselves.” Gorin pointed to the hall before them, “Scaraden stands forever. We built this hall so not even Livella herself could stand within it. If it is to be war, then the darkness shall lead us to victory and neither Ilmgral nor the Gods will stop us. The time is not yet ripe, however. We are too few after the last war. Crio is desperate to learn where our kin are imprisoned.” “What of earth?” A young lord, only risen after Crio had ascended to be king, spoke then, “Urgarak is right. One of the Graul has reskinned among them, that is rare enough but then to live as a human. One like that, allied with the half breeds could bring a new power to the universe that had never been foretold by Livella.” Gorin seemed un-moved, “Ambassador Lucast assured us he has no memory of his past.” He then smiled cruelly, “Though the thought intrigues me, maybe in him the experiments of old will work. A child of Ilmgral with all of our gifts mixed with the darkness and natural brilliance of Humanity, a sight that might even make the Gods tremble.”
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A wind that seemed to carry words between the trees. He listened more carefully, there were words on the wind. Morelin walked towards the sound and the words grew in their clarity. He stepped towards a clearing and gasped. Beneath the dusk moon, a woman sat, singing to the ground, as vibrant blood red flowers bloomed at her words. Morelin, like all the Ilma, could speak to plants and command them to grow. It was the only part of his power that had been bestowed by Gadrika when the gift of the Ilma had been forged, yet he used it little. Morelin was a warrior, he needed his powers to be a weapon. He stood in the shadow of the trees, watching her as she worked. From that moment the doom of Morelin was locked and the greatest tragedy of the Ilma’s youth was set in motion. He had heard rumours of Lucarnia and had seen her once as a child but in her womanhood, no story could convey her beauty. Her skin absorbed the red light of the moon and gave it back in greater beauty. Un-like Morelin, she had no red scales but instead lines like roots came down from her eyes and clung delicately all the way down her cheeks. She was slender like a flower in spring, but Morelin could feel the strength of the trees in her. A wind rose around Morelin and seemed to flutter around Lucarnia. He watched as a smile crept onto her lips. She sang again and a beautiful red flower bloomed. Her gaze fell suddenly towards him, “Come out fair lord and bask in the light. Umoria will soon come across the glade and their light will mix. Come and see the flowers, you are upsetting the trees.” Nervously Morelin stepped into the glade. He bowed slightly; his hand pressed against his forehead. She did the same, “Hail lord of the Ilma.” Her eyes went to the silver flower pin on his shoulder, “You are of the house of Mina?” Morelin stared into her piercing green eyes that seemed so strange from the golden irises he was used to, “I am Morelin Diactra.” He said in a shaking voice, “From the town of Minagrin.” “It is a pleasure.” She said as she turned back towards the flowers. “You must be Lucarnia Bitaran, daughter of the wood king.” She nodded and Morelin stepped closer to her and as he did, Umoria moved across the sky and gave its silver light to the clearing and it mingled, as she had said, with the light of Aradtoria. “Tell me wood daughter, how did you know I was here?” He asked. “You said it in the name you give me. We who live in the wood, hear the trees and many do not like the hearts of the Ilma, who chop them down for their machines of war.” She laughed like it was some joke, but Morelin hesitantly looked towards the trees, his power reaching out to silence the wind that blew through them. His eyes then went down to the flower, “This is livora.” He said, “That grows only on the lands where the kin of Drage have lived.” She looked up at him, taking in the lines of his face, “It was sent over by my family who reside over the ocean. It does not like our soil so I must force it to grow.” She pulled a seed from the top of one of the flowers and placed it in Morelin’s hand, “Perhaps you could grow them in your garden my lord.”
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“I hate it.” Idris said as he walked in, pulling at his own red shirt. His red hair was combed backwards, held there by a band of leather. “Behave.” Lavia said as she came in behind him. She now wore a gown of white, beautifully framing her body. “Father.” Idris said, standing in front of Suda, hands on his hips, “Why do I have to wear this?” A girl followed him in. She was also dressed in white, and she had a silver ribbon in her red hair. Alina, Suda’s oldest daughter, smiled at him. Finally, a toddler stumbled into the room. Belia was Suda’s youngest child, and she also pulled at the dress she was wearing. Suda knelt in front of his son, “Now Idris.” His voice was stern, “Tonight we celebrate Gadrika and the food that he blessed us with. We must dress for such an occasion.” A smile appeared on Suda’s face, and he whispered, “And if you are good, I will let you stay up late to watch the fire dancers.” A smile grew on Idris’s face, and he bounced on the balls of his feet. Lavia coughed, “Have you forgotten Suda?” “No I have not.” He replied as he stood and walked to his dresser. He pulled from it a small scabbard, which held a short metal knife. He turned, smiling at the young boy who watched the knife curiously, “Now Idris.” Suda knelt before his son, “Today you are six harvest festivals away from becoming a ward. For this reason, you shall receive your first blade, as I did at your age.” Idris smiled gleefully as Suda fastened the blade to the boy’s belt, “Look after it well. My father had it made for me.” Idris nodded and charged out of the room, most likely to show his friends. Alina and Belia ran up to Suda expectantly. “I have not forgotten you both.” He said and walking back to his dresser, he pulled out two bright red flowers. Kneeling beside them, he wove the stems into both of the girls silver bands, “These grow only in the soil around Amoradrage, or upon lands where the Drage family have lived. They are a gift from Livella, showing our connection to her. Wear them tonight and the vassal of light will bless this house.” The two girls left, both standing taller, like grace personified. Suda stood and kissed his wife upon her lips. From his desk he took up another cutting of livora and handed it to Lavia, “For the one who holds my heart.” He whispered. She smiled and wove the flower into a loop at her breast. Together they left for the grand reception hall. Musicians played and Ilma from the merchant families danced, drank, and ate. At their entrance there was silence and Suda stood, arm in arm with his wife and addressed the crowd, “Happy harvest to you all.” His voice echoed in the hall, “Bless Gadrika for the life that he has given to us. May the tapestry that he weaves continue to bring you all and the realm of Dragor prosperity. Today we shall celebrate the gift that Gadrika has given us and celebrate the gift of eachother. May the stars guide you all.” A cheer went up in the hall and then the guests went back to their feasting and dancing. Suda stepped towards an old woman. Her hair was white, and her face wrinkled. She knelt by Alina and entertained the girl with a trick that made the fire the old woman produced, change colours. It was rare for a woman of the Ilma to be able to still use her power at that age. With every child of the Ilma born, the mother diminished, part of her own power going into the child. That was the reason twins were rare, or it was unusual for women to have more than three children. Lavia could barely produce a flame now but what she lost in power; motherhood gave back in beauty. “Mother.” Suda smiled as he approached the old woman. Alina looked fondly at her father before running off to follow Idris. The old woman turned towards Suda. “You look regal my son.” His mother said, her gaze fell downwards as she examined the sword at his belt. “It suited father better.” He replied. His gaze swept across the party goers. He had spent many harvest festivals with his men, staying in inns where no one cared that he was the heir apparent to Dragor. “Your father never liked the harvest festival.” “He never liked celebrating.” His mother gave a hearty laugh, “He was a pious man. He believed in celebrating the gods every day, but you are not cut from his cloth.” Suda nodded as his mother left him in search of food. His father had not been a ward for any lord or learned much of fighting. Unlike all the other first born of the house of Dragor, his father had spent the years between his coming of age and his rise to lordship, studying in the church of Brinsita. Suda believed that was why, when need for battle came, that he had been wounded so badly. Lavia came and kissed her husband before taking the children out to enjoy the festival. As he sat, Ordin and Loxa grabbed harps and began to sing for the hall. Their voices were sweet, and they sang songs of Gadrika, just as well as they sang songs of debauchery in small village taverns. As they sang, Sirgrin came and sat next to him, “My lord.” He whispered, “You should go to the square and be amongst your people.” Suda’s heart warmed at the thought, but he shook his head, “My father never went out to the festival grounds.” “Your father believed he must rule from inside these walls.” Sirgrin said, “But you are not your father, and you are well loved by the people. You can be a different lord than he.” Others would not have spoken to him so, but Suda had helped raise Sirgrin and he trusted his counsel above most others. Suda nodded and stood, his shirt feeling a bit lighter as he stepped out into the cool autumn air. Two Graul soldiers followed him, there red shirts shining, a black dragon embroided on their chests. People cheered at the sight of their lord and Suda walked through the streets, smiling at Graul and Ilma who danced and sang under the stars.
Knights of Earth Publications 