Swords with Souls: King of the Giants and Dwarves (Lara) B80

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

(Adult Content)

BARD: Bearer of the Gemstone

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

A Viral Imperium Book one of the Plagueborn series

King of the Giants and Dwarves

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She thinks of the ancient tomes Haashir has brough her family and the secrets within them.  “Will the king of the giants and dwarves attack us Propers?”

“Only if the faie ask him to.”

Her mouth opens and she freezes inside. Does Jederick know who her and Gwen’s mother is? Or about her grandfather?

“We must leave today,” Jederick says, his dark blue eyes studying her. “Will Aminah let me take her rein? You need to be blindfolded.” His voice is soft and respectful.

“Are you going to tie my hands to the stirrup as well?” she asks with a mock snarl.

“No. I trust you. The blindfold is more for show for those who might not.”

“And if I can see through the cloth?”

“Just don’t tell anyone. I give you my word Lady Некромансер, I will try to protect you but we must leave now.”  His voice is calm but the acidic smell of his sweat says the opposite.

“You’ll try to protect me?” She says in a haughty tone. “Fine.”

His hands look like they could crush her head, yet, she hardly feels them as he ties a red strip of cloth around her eyes. The fibers of the cloth are not tight and she can see the back of Aminah’s head and a bit beyond. Jedreck must have Aminah’s reign because she feels a gentle jerk just before Aminah starts a slow trot.

The air becomes cooler and windless as they travel. She can smell the distinct resinous scent of juniper. Aminah’s steps are more cautious and she can feel through her hips that the ground is uneven.

A long time later she can smell the sweet smell of burning alder.  Aminah halts and a moment later Jedreck helps her down.

She feels his hand engulf hers. “We’ll be there soon,” he says with trepidation in his voice as he leads her along a wide dirt path cleared of stones and roots.

A short while later she feels stone, like cobblestones, under her feet. “Step up and forward,” she hears Jedreck say.

On the fifth step she hears creaking and can just see a giant wooden door opening.

Even with the alder burning she can smell the stench of something rotting. It makes her gag.

The blindfold is removed and Jedreck reties it so that it covers her nose and mouth.

She gazes up and sees he already has a cloth around his own nose and mouth.

Her eyes widen and she takes an involuntary step backwards. Deep inside the hall of the building is a crowd of real giants and exceptionally wide shouldered dwarves. They are standing with somber expressions on either side of a bed. The giants are easily eighteen to twenty or more of her hand lengths tall.  A few of the giants are female. Their hair is braided and oiled to show off their long, determined faces. The younger women have faces similar to the men’s. The faces are also similar to some of the dwarves. She gulps.  Except for the older ones, are these all the king’s children?

Lying on a bed with posts made of thick oak is the tallest giant of all, the king.  A blanket made up brown bear hides covers his frail body. Long fingers with skin so thin she can see the bones underneath clench the blankets, relax and clench again with each breath. His shaggy head of white with intermingled strands of red hair flows well past his sunken chest. His head rests on layers of pillows. Deep wrinkles cover his slightly lopsided pale face. His sunken eyes glimmer unevenly with conceit that emits from intense pale blue eyes. His mouth stays open as he wheezes in and out each breath. There’s something in his mouth behind his front teeth.  She feels Jedreck take her wrist and gently pull her forward. Now she sees what the objects are, another row of teeth.

Humayra’s Story World (decorative cooking)

The reading of the blurbs for BARD: Bearer of the Gemstone and Owner of the Gemstone; and WHISPERS

This will be my last post his year.

Have a Merry Christmas and holiday season,

and a Happy New Year most of all!!!

Swords with Souls: King of the Giants and Dwarves (Lara) B79

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

(Adult Content)

BARD: Bearer of the Gemstone

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

A Viral Imperium Book one of the Plagueborn series

King of the Giants and Dwarves

caedar-writig-artwork.com

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Lara just wants to return home.  Helping to craft not one but two swords with souls has drained her, especially the one with her grandfather’s soul, the one that now hangs on her left side. She named the sword Stian after her grandfather.  Every time she grasps the handle of the sword, she can hear her grandfather’s voice commenting on the surroundings. She hasn’t tried to ask any questions because hearing his voice answer her might break her heart. She rests her head against Aminah’s neck and sobs. Sniffing and wiping the tears away she climbs onto Aminah’s back. Nearby, Jedreck is waiting on Angus, a massive shire horse that looks more like a pony with Jedreck sitting on his back.

She swats a mosquito away. “I’d like to go now,” she says to the giant. He had told her he would guard her on her way back home. She told him she didn’t need a guardian, but he had insisted. Now he’s moving in front of her and Aminah, cutting them off from traveling down the path. Lara grabs onto the handle of her soul sword. This time her grandfather voice is silent.

Jederick is looking down at her with a conflicted expression. “I ask you to go on a side trip with me. To make another soul sword.”

She wonders how powerful the soul sword in her hand is. She had seen how well Sir Oliver’s had performed against Jederick. There is a determined but gentle glow emitting from the giant’s unblinking stare. With a sigh, she asks, “What is this for?”

“The king of the giants and dwarves is dying,” he blurts out.

“King Leopold is dying?” she asks, confused.  He seemed very much alive last she knew.  

“No, the king of the giants and dwarves,” Jederick repeats.

“There is another king?” Lara asks.

“Yes, but his existence is unknown to the Propers, as your people call themselves.”

“You want me to make a soul sword using the soul of this dying king?” She wonders if that is a good idea. She still isn’t sure how powerful these swords are. “Do I have a choice?”

Jederick bows his head. “I—I would rather it was your choice.”

“But if I refuse, you’ll try to force me?”

Now he’s looking at her with a wan smile.  His lips quiver for a moment.  “Yes.”

“You can’t make me do this, Jederick,” she says glaring up at him while clenching tighter onto the handle of the soul sword.

“Haashir has ways to,” he replies.

*Except for a possible video, this will be my last post until the New Year.

Swords with Souls: Relics (The Sword Maker) B78

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

(Adult Content)

BARD: Bearer of the Gemstone

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

A Viral Imperium Book one of the Plagueborn series

Relics

caedar-writig-artwork.com

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When he wakes the first thing he sees is the ribbed ceiling of an enclosed cart.  He tries to move his feet and hands then feels the constriction of rope around his ankles and wrists.  A glance to his left tells him he’s inside the carnival wagon.  Haashir is sitting beside him with a lit candle.  The man’s pointed nose and dark eyes are reading a book.  He thinks it might be the one he pulled from the river.  The dwarf, bearded woman and others are lying under blankets sleeping. 

“You must want something since I’m still a live,” he says in a raspy voice.

“I’m hoping you’ll help us as you did, Lara,” Haashir answers in his deep, quiet voice.

“If you mean the swords, you’ll need her as well,” he says while testing the strength of the ropes.  “Why the need to tie me up?”

“When I came to visit you, I didn’t hear a reply, so I went into your home to check that you were well.”  Haashir’s dark eyes are now staring intensely at him.  “I saw this book and a very interesting and large ring.  Originally, I was just going to negotiate with you, but now I wonder if you’re more than just a blacksmith.”

“I found the book and the ring in the river.”  He yanks lightly on the ropes again but there’s no give. He sees Haashir is still staring at him but this time with hooded eyelids.

“You give your word you are not a necromancer or a user of arcane,” Haashir asks in a deadly tone.

“I give you my word, I’m neither. Will I be compensated?” he asks. He’s not really in a position to bargain but neither does he have anything to lose by trying.

“Could you translate the book Lara gave you?” Haashir asks returning his gaze to the tome on his lap.

“No.”

“I can help you with that.”

The tome had numerous interesting drawings in it of how to make unique weapons.  However, he couldn’t read the list of materials or what colour to heat them to.  “What does this book say?” he asks.

“Lara’s sister Gwen is much better at translating, but it seems to be a book of philosophy and possibly a love triangle between a faie princess or queen, a half blood giant of faie and Proper parenthood, and a Proper royal, though I can’t tell of what position.”

“Read it to me to pass the time while we travel,” he says.

“The book is written by someone named Osgood in first person,” Haashir says while squinting his eyes in concentration. “I think he is also the giant. ‘Time was never a factor until she brought him to the place where I was studying the honeycombs of bees’,” Haashir begins.

Swords with Souls: Relics (The Sword Maker) B77

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

(Adult Content)

BARD: Bearer of the Gemstone

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

A Viral Imperium Book one of the Plagueborn series

Relics

caedar-writig-artwork.com

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When he steps onto the shore of his home the dark tinge of twilight has already covered the landscape.  Sitting on the log he often eats at is the lithe and always immaculately dressed Haashir. Beside him is a long-necked clay jug.  The giant Jedreck is nowhere to be seen.

“Let me get dressed before we talk, about whatever you have on your mind,” he says gruffly. He steps inside his home and pulls on dark brown cotton pants and a shirt. “Come in before the bugs get at you,” he calls.

Haashir steps in.

He finds it strange that the dark eyed man doesn’t glance around, as if he’s already familiar with the surroundings. “Have a seat at the table. Do you want any salted fish? I see you brought your own drink.”

“I thought we could share it,” Haashir says in a very deep voice for such a tiny man.

“I’m parched so I might drink more than my share,” he says with a grin.  He grabs two clay mugs and places them on the table. Sitting down he proffers his cup.

As Haashir fills it, he asks, “What are we sharing about?”

“I’d like you to create another sword,” Haashir says as he puts a small amount in his own mug.

The Sword Maker sniffs the brew. It smells of alcohol and blackberries. “Wine or spirits?” he asks.

“Somewhere in-between,” Haashir replies as he lifts his mug up to toast.

The Sword Maker takes a sip and then guzzles down the rest. “This must have cost you dearly,” he says holding his mug out for more. “Nice and smooth with a milky taste and no pulp or pits.”

Haashir places the stopper back on. “It’s based on a recipe Sir Ganbold taught me. His original land is famous for fermented vodka. I added blackberries and some other ingredients.”

“It’s delicious,” he says gulping the second cup down.

“How long were you in the water?” Haashir asks him.

 He shakes his head to clear the weariness from the long swim.  “Night to morning to twilight,” he mumbles. “I’m afraid we’ll have to take this conversation up later, I’m feeling–.”

Swords with Souls: Relics (The Sword Maker) B76

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

(Adult Content)

BARD: Bearer of the Gemstone

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

A Viral Imperium Book one of the Plagueborn series

Relics

caedar-writig-artwork.com

Facebook

The creatures with the glowing eyes or bodies are keeping ahead of him again as he swims near the bottom of the river. Whatever his lover did it’s made his lungs much stronger. The ancient ruin flies by as he swims with the undercurrent of the river. But he extends his hands to slow down when a curious glimmer appears ahead. Between balls of Marimo moss is a quarter eared woman, fully intact. Much like his lover her skin is a pinkish-green. She’s wearing the shells of the very rare pearl mussels over each breast and her navel. The glimmer he saw though, is coming from the band of silver around her head.  In the centre of the band is a Cornish green Serpentine stone. Her face appears so alive he fights the pull of the undercurrent to see if her eyelids with their dark eyelashes will open.  But the determined face stays unchanged.

Swimming rapidly again with the undercurrent he suddenly feels ill. Within the walls of another ruined building there is an average sized human skull encircled by a band of silver.  Equally spaced around the band are four smoky-clear cairngorm quartz stones. A silver chain bolted to the back of the band disappears beneath the silt of the river’s bedding. On the remaining wrist is a wide banded silver circlet with alternating stones of amber, Black Tourmaline, and obsidian. Chained nearby is the rest of the torso but missing the legs and the right hand.  A gold ring on the index finger of the lefthand glimmers with a green hue. He starts to reach for it until he realizes the stone is Moldavite.

As the sickening feeling grows, he hurries to the surface and gasps in air. But the air he inhales is foul and full of sickness. The horizon is now a dark red with blue clouds. Squinting away the water dripping from his hair he sees the dark outline of the Buttigieg Gardenery. The fire damaged tower seems to look back at him. Daring him to swim through the stagnant water that now washes back and forth from the wind. Was this what his lover wanted him to see and smell?

Swords with Souls: Relics (The Sword Maker) B75

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

(Adult Content)

BARD: Bearer of the Gemstone

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

A Viral Imperium Book one of the Plagueborn series

Relics

caedar-writig-artwork.com

Facebook

He dives much deeper and sees the shadowy ruins of stone and mortar buildings. Whatever wood they once contained must have rotted away. Something glitters up from a mess of iron bindings. He still feels he can hold his breath longer so he dives down and carefully reaches through the bindings and mud for the object. It’s an amethyst ring with a gold band too large for him to wear. He doubts even the giant, Jedreck has a finger thick enough to put it on.

He slips the ring loosely over his left index finger and curls the finger to keep a hold of the it. There’s something yellowish, like bone revealed from removing the ring. He kicks his legs to stay down as he wraps his right hand around it. A massive skeleton hand with a missing ring finger comes out. He feels a shiver and drops it. Swimming a little further on he sees more rusting iron bindings. He brushes them aside.  A skull with a jeweled gold crown peers back at him. The skull must be as large as his upper torso. Beside the corpse, have buried in mud, is a thick leather tome. He’s shocked that it looks undamaged. He grabs a hold of it.

The skeletal hand and skull make him feel like he’s running out of air. With the tome and ring in his left hand he kicks rapidly to get away from the ruins.

As soon his head breaks the surface of the river, he no longer sees the two beams of light.  He crawls onto the shore and sits on the bank, staring intently into the water.  He doesn’t see any sign of the glowing fish, eels or other sea creatures that created the light.

Back in his home he places the tomb on his eating table and the overly large ring on top. From a string hanging on the opposite wall of his bed, he grabs a piece of dried and salted bream. As he munches on the bream, he realizes he’ll have to buy more sea salt from traveling gypsies or request soldiers to ask their comrades to bring some with them when they pick up the new swords. He feels reenergized and a need to go back into the river.

Swords with Souls: Relics (The Sword Maker) B74

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

(Adult Content)

BARD: Bearer of the Gemstone

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

A Viral Imperium Book one of the Plagueborn series

Relics

caedar-writig-artwork.com

Facebook

The Sword Maker vaguely remembers her saying soothing words as she straddled his back and rubbed an ointment that smelled of arnica between his shoulder blades. “This will help the pain caused by the transformation,” she had said before kissing his upper back and leaving.

His body jolts and he cries out as a feeling akin to finely sharpened blades cut simultaneously into two sides of his back, just behind where his lungs are. He tries to sit up but the pain is too great. Digging his toes and fingers into the sheet of his bed, he can barely breathe as the cut goes deeper.  His whole-body clenches as air escapes through the slices.  But then something bizarre happens. As the skin on either side of the wounds feels like its folding slightly back, air begins escaping from his lungs. Still lying on his stomach, and covered in sweat, he falls back asleep.

When he wakes in the middle of the night; he’s starving. From a clay pot he scoops out a bowl of mashed oats and barley porridge. Stiffly he makes a fire and boils the porridge before adding some honey he bought from a neighbor. Naked he sits on a log eating as he stares across the river. After he finishes, he can smell that he stinks of sweat and decides to take a bath.

As he dunks his head underwater, he notices two strange circles of light against the pebbles of the river’s floor.  The lights are about as wide as his hands and close together. He wonders if they’re made by the moonlight and perhaps a bright star. Fascinated, he dives under the water. He sees the lights move forward as he does. He wonders if there are creatures that live in the water that glow at night. He’ll have to surface soon for air but he feels he can dive a bit deeper first.

The circles of light expand as he swims deeper.  As he does eels and fish scatter amongst the stems of water lilies and hair grass. As he goes deeper, he can see java moss growing off rocks and waterlogged wood. He is now swimming deeper than he ever has. But other than the weird flapping sensation between his shoulder blades, he feels he can stay under longer. He gazes up and the lights circle around the silky strands of hornwort, telling him he’s still close to shore.

Movie Review of THE PHOENICIAN Scheme

Wes Anderson’s Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou is a go to movie for me.

And I thoroughly enjoyed The PHOENICIAN Scheme.  A movie about the 5% man who wants to build amazing constructions and his interaction with his daughter.  As he tries to get investors someone once close is trying to remove him, literally.  Will he succeed and is God on his side?

The main characters are highly intelligent, emotionally reserved, and straightforward—except for the shouting matches.  You might say the background is often a moving tapestry of yellows and blues with turquoise dominating most of the sets.  The conversations are more like soliloquys mixed with asides with the characters rarely talking over each other.  With Anderson’s direction and Bruno Delbonnel’s cinematography, the imagery is bright with pastel backgrounds. The close ups are reminiscent of the early black and white closeups where the characters’ reaction and expressions are accentuated.

Benicio Del Torro is perfect in the lead.  A mixture of Howard Hughes and Anthony Quinn.  Creative, solid, smart, and determined.

Mia Threapleton plays an unwavering daughter who is both compassionate and hardened by life.  She keeps her emotions in check but not her thoughts.

Michael Cera is more than the smiling German entomologists he portrays but you’ll have to watch it to find out what that means.

The movie’s atmosphere is similar to sitting in a bar where the jazz music is soft and comfortable one moment than lively and structurally chaotic the next.

Kudos to the writers:  Wes Anderson and Roman Coppola

This is a smart script with just the right amount of social, economic, and religious commentary mixed in with a good amount of action.

Caedar-writing-artwork.com

Swords with Souls: Regicide? (Madame Swan) B73

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

(Adult Content)

BARD: Bearer of the Gemstone

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

A Viral Imperium Book one of the Plagueborn series

Regicide?

caedar-writig-artwork.com

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She can’t leave him to fight alone. It’s been a long time since she’s thrown her knives but what choice is there? Squeezing Fylste’s sides with her knees she gets behind the guards as they engage with Crimmthan.

Crimmthan’s thoroughbred batters one of the soldier’s shields with his flank, knocking the guard to the ground. At the same time, she sees Crimmthan slash down at the other guard’s sword hand.

These are professional guards with helmets on. She doesn’t see any protective bear skin, so she gets Fylste to halt and slides off. She charges ahead with both knives out. From behind the guard fighting with Crimmthan, she stabs blindly up into the front of the guard’s helmet. The guard impulsively elbows her. This gives Crimmthan the opportunity to cut deeply into the guard’s wrist.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees the other guard getting up from the ground. Without hesitating she flicks her free knife at his visible eye. He bats it away. She runs away from where Crimmthan is while holding out her other knife feebly. There’s no sense throwing it; the guard would just block it with his shield. She steps back and sideways so the soldier’s back is to Crimmthan. At least one of them can get away.

This guard is too big and powerful for her to have any hope of escaping. As he charges her, she backpedals and slips on the rain drenched grass. There’s a whoosh sound. The guard arches his back. Through years of training, he keeps hold of his sword and shield as he makes a quarter turn. There’s another whoosh sound and he drops his sword to cover the side of his neck.

The rain is getting heavier. She glances everywhere before passing the reigns of Fylste to Crimmthann. Without another word she darts towards a wild privet shrub. She squeezes between it and a juniper bush to get to a birch tree. At the base of the birch, she digs frantically through the wet soil with her knife. As the birch grew over the years, she had to keep moving the leather pouch she kept her treasures in a little farther away. Her fingers are coated in dirt as she pulls the pouch out. She places a hand on the trunk of the birch and taking heavy breaths. Being more careful, she moves cautiously between the wild privet and the juniper. Squinting through the rain she can see Crimthann glance around before yanking his arrows out of the dead soldiers while holding the reigns of his horse and Fylste.

She hurries to him and takes Fylste’s reign. She places the pouch into one of Fylste’s saddlebags. Terrified but determined she collects her other throwing knife. While pulling her dagger free of Sir Emil’s right eyesocket, she scans everywhere as Crimthann yanks out the last of his arrows. When he’s done, she sees him take a dagger out of one of the guard’s sheaths and carve something into his forehead.

After Crimmthann mounts his horse, he nods at her. She climbs into Fylste’s saddle and follows him into a ravine that he keeps them in for a short while before they climb up the bank and head into a woodlot with a path. When they come to a road, she’s familiar with, he rides beside her.

“Why the arrows?” she asks, “And what did you put on his forehead.”

“The arrows have my design,” he replies. “Brass collars for weight. Good for shooting through high winds and rain but only at a short distance. I put what I hope is a simple but clear symbol of Sir Ganbold’s family on the soldier’s forehead.

She glances up into the pelting rain. “Is that honorable and shouldn’t we pull over?”

“Not yet,” he replies. “We want the rain to deform our tracks. I will admit my sins to him and his family, if I ever see any of them again.”