A Little Light

WINNER : 73rd Annual ARKANSAS WRITERS CONFERENCE (2nd Place for Lights Out)

PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT, LET ME KNOW IF YOU'D LIKE TO SEE MORE OF THESE CHARACTERS.  

Thump, thump, thump. Adina could hear the footsteps of her pursuer getting closer. She squeezed her little body into the dark space behind the water barrel. She held her breath and hoped the ogre would pass by. Adina had escaped her cage and managed to elude her captors, but the little fairy was far from free. While there were many places to hide on board, she was still a prisoner of the pirate ship.

     She could smell the ogre’s foul breath, as he stood over her. The lantern in his hand cast shadows on the walls of the hold. She exhaled. The ogre’s keen ears twitched. 

     “Pardon me. Could I trouble you for some water?” The prisoner in the cell at the back of the hold distracted the ogre. “Just a cup, if you wouldn’t mind. I’m parched.”

   The ogre lifted the lid from the barrel and scooped out a bucket of water. Adina watched as he stomped to the cell and threw the water into the prisoner’s face. The ogre chuckled cruelly and ambled out the door. Adina breathed sigh of relief.

     “You may come out. He’s gone for now.” The prisoner whispered. “You’ve led them on quite the jolly chase. Good for you.”

     Adina crept from behind the barrel. “Thanks for the distraction. I was sure he had me” she said, approaching the cell. “I’m Adina.”

     In the gloom, she could see the prisoner was a human. He dropped to one knee to be face to face with the tiny fairy.  “I’m Job.” He smiled. “Forgive me for asking, but why don’t you just fly away from this fetid vessel?”

     Adina hung her head. “I can’t.” She turned her shoulders to show Job her damaged wing. “I fought the brute that caught me and he crushed my wing when he shoved me into that stupid cage.”

     “Dear me. Is it painful?” Job showed concern.

     “Not anymore.” Adina fluttered her wings. “But I won’t be flying for some time.”

     “If you can’t fly, how did you manage to escape your cage?” Job sat down and leaned against the bars. “Can you use fairy magic to open locks?” He looked hopeful.

     Adina smiled. “There’s something on this ship that blocks fairy magic.”

     Job sighed loudly. “Not even your little light? I thought perhaps…wait. Then why are you smiling?”

     “Because I can do something most fairies can’t.” Adina looked smug. “I know how to pick a lock.”

     “Splendid.” Job brightened. “Could you?” He motioned to the door of his cell.

     “Of course.” Adina agreed. “But we should wait until tonight. Once it gets dark…” The look on Job’s face made her swallow the rest of her words.

     “No, no.” He cried out. “I cannot spend another night in the belly of this filthy tub. I must…please let me out now, before darkness falls.” Job’s pleasant features twisted in anguish.

     “All right. I’ll unlock the door. But before you try anything, you ought to wait until I can free some of the others. The two of us can’t possibly escape alone.” Adina fished around on the littered floor until she found a nail. “Now lift me up.”

     Job reached through the bars to lift Adina. “What others?” he asked while she poked and twisted the nail in the lock.

     Adina bit her lip in concentration. “There’s three more fairies. They’re in the captain’s quarters in cages. Almost got it. There’s also four cells in the upper hold, just above us.” She motioned toward the ceiling. “I saw a Minotaur and others in those cells when I ran through to get down here.”

     Adina heard the thump of heavy boots. She dropped the nail. “Put me down.” she whispered. Just as the door opened, Adina slipped through the bars of the cell and hid herself behind Job’s boots.

     Pale light brightened the front of the hold but did not reach the depths of the cell where Adina cowered behind Job’s feet. A thin, rat-faced human stuck his head through the portal. “Seen a fairy here about?” he asked, looking at Job.

     “A fairy, you say?” Job smirked. “Well of course. There’s one here in my cell.” Adina swallowed hard and pinched the back of Job’s leg.

     “Ha. Funny one, ain’t ya?” Rat face scoffed and slammed the door.

     “Ouch.” Job rubbed his leg. “That was unnecessary.”

     “Oh it was necessary.” Adina elbowed him in the knee. “What if he had looked?”

     “He wasn’t going to look. He couldn’t be bothered to step through the door.” Job flinched to avoid another tiny elbow. “Now about that lock?” He pleaded.

     In moments the cell door swung free. Job stepped out and stretched his tall frame. “I wish we had a lantern. I…uh… can’t see a thing.” He started for the door.

     “Wait.” Adina stopped him. “We need a plan. There may be half a dozen pirates in there. You don’t know.”

     “Okay.” Job agreed. “I have an idea.”

     “Good.” Adina stood next to the door expectantly. “What’s your plan?”

     Job opened the door just a crack, then shoved Adina through and slammed it loudly. Adina squeaked and flattened herself against the door. Looking up, she saw the surprised faces of two pirates.

     She smiled and shrugged her shoulders, hopping out of the way just as the first lunged for her.  His head hit the door with a thud. He hit the floor, dazed. Adina scurried across the room with the second pirate on her heels. She ran left, faked right, and ran straight through the bars of the second cell. In his haste to grab the fairy, the pirate ran into the cell bars and the outstretched hands of the Minotaur. The terror in his eyes lasted for only a moment as he was rendered unconscious when the beast slammed his head against the cell door.

     The Minotaur looked down at Adina and chuckled. “I can’t believe I’m being rescued by a fairy.”

     As the first pirate was getting to his feet, Job stepped from his hiding place and punched him in the jaw. The thug hit the floor, unconscious.

     Job was busy tying the hands and feet of the first pirate.  Adina kicked him in the shin. “That was your plan? Just throw the fairy out into a room full of pirates? Really?”

     “It wasn’t a room full. It was just two.” Job giggled, rubbing his leg.

     “You didn’t know that!” The furious fairy kicked again.

     “Hello. Excuse me.” A red faced dwarf with a red beard hissed. “Could you two stop arguing long enough to let us out?”

     “Of course.” Adina pulled a stool over to the bars of the cell, climbed up and proceeded to poke and twist the nail in the lock.

     “Ahem.” Job cleared his throat.

     “Not now.” Adina squinted and bit her lip. “Almost got it.”

     Job tapped her on the shoulder.

     “Not now!” She snapped and waved him off. Another tap on her shoulder brought Adina’s full fury. She spun around to give Job the scolding he deserved only to be met with his smug grin. While she toiled with picking the lock, he had retrieved the keys from one of the unconscious pirates and unlocked the other cells. Without another word, Adina hopped down from the stool to stand aside so that he might open the dwarf’s cell. 

     Once the pirates were bound, gagged and locked away, Job took stock of his companions. “We are one warrior, a Minotaur, a dwarf, a centaur, an elf and a fairy. Does anyone know how many pirates await us in the upper decks?”

     The elf spoke up. “There’s at least ten, maybe more.

     “Hey, remember there’s three more fairies locked in the captain’s cabin.” Adina commented.

     “We can rescue them after. Fairies won’t be much help taking the ship.” The dwarf grumbled as he rummaged through the cargo for weapons.

     “A fairy got YOU out.” Adina crossed her arms and sat down in a huff.

     The Minotaur chuckled. “She’s right.” He ignored the angry stares from Job and the dwarf. “Well, she is. She’s the one that escaped on her own.”

     Job helped the dwarf sort through the weapons he’d found. “We need a plan.”

     “A real plan.” Adina piped up.

     “First of all, introductions” he said, tossing a disdainful look in the fairy’s direction. “I’m Job.”

     “Call me Fred.” The Minotaur spoke up.

     “Fred? Really?” Adina was in a sour mood. “A Minotaur named Fred. Well, Fred I’m Adina.”

     “Frederick the Magnificent just sounds so ostentatious. I prefer Fred.” Fred picked up a huge hammer, swinging it a few times. “This will do me just fine.”

     The dwarf strapped two short swords to his back. “I be MacDunnah Shleghorn, but you may call me Red. This here is Novan, the centaur. He don’t talk much.”

     The group turned to the elf. “I usually call upon magic but I’m not unfamiliar with weapons such as these. I am Kevin.”

     Adina face palmed but kept her comments to herself. Her tiny face blushed bright pink with undelivered snarky comments.  

     “Okay.” Job said. “Now that we’re all properly armed, we need a plan.”

     “I’d feel better if we could use our magic.” Kevin whined. “There must be something on this ship that’s blocking all magic.”

     “They have a Quelling Sphere.” Novan spoke for the first time. He nodded to the elf, who raised his eyebrows in recognition.

     “Well, don’t just stand there nodding. Tell us. What is a Quelling spear?” Red was impatient.

     “A Quelling SPHERE is a powerful magical item that blocks all other magic in a given area. It should be a ball about this big.” Kevin spoke and held out his hands to the size of a large apple. “It will have swirling light inside. I expect it will be guarded.”

     “Whatever we’re going to do; we must do it soon. It’s getting late.” Job looked nervous.

     “We should wait till it’s good and dark and take them by surprise.” Red offered.

     Adina watched Job standing on the steps to the next deck. “Is he sick or is he going to cry?” She nudged Fred. She held her breath as he moved up the stairs. “He’s not…oh yes he is. Job, no.” She whispered as vehemently as possible.

     Job threw open the door and charged up the stairs to the next deck. The rest of the group brandished their weapons and followed. They found themselves in an empty corridor. There were two doors and a short staircase at the end. Portholes lined one wall, filtering in the waning light from outside. Job leaned against a porthole, basking in the natural light. He sighed deeply before speaking. “Those stairs lead to the deck.” He whispered.

     “That’s got to be the galley. I can smell it.” Fred offered.

     “And this is the captain’s cabin.” Adina put her tiny ear against the door. “I hear fairies. We have to let them out.”

    “We’ve no time. They’ll be safer out of the way. Leave them…for now.” Red pulled open the cabin door and pushed Adina through. “They’ll all be safer.”  The group nodded in agreement.

     Job stood on the steps to the deck with the others gathered around him. “The first thing we do is find the Quelling…thing. Whoever finds it, throw it overboard. That should free his elf magic and even the odds a bit. They may have us outnumbered but we have the element of surprise.”

     Suddenly, the galley door opened. The rat faced pirate strolled out closely followed by three others. Rat face looked up in utter surprise. Fred, being the closest, charged them. But the alarm had been raised. “I’ll handle these. Go, go.” He shouted heroically.

     Job dashed up the stairs and burst through the door to the deck. Red and Kevin cleared the door quickly but Novan had a problem with the stairs.    

     Fred charged the pirates, pushing them back into the galley. He grabbed a bench, stepped back out the door and blocked it. He dusted his hands and chuckled as they pounded on the door. “Ha.” Fred hurried for the deck. He had to push past Novan, who was still trying to manage the stairs.

     Topside there was chaos.  The setting sun cast a dim light over the deck. Red battled multiple pirates with a sword in each hand. Job stepped over the unconscious forms of several others in his pursuit of the captain.  Kevin ran back and forth across the deck screaming, with the ogre on his heels. 

     When the ogre spotted the Minotaur he ignored the elf and charged. Fred planted his feet to absorb the blow but it never came. Kevin scurried in front of the ogre, who tripped over the terrified elf. When the ogre landed hard, a shiny orb rolled from his pocket across the deck. All eyes followed the Quelling Sphere as it rolled port then starboard with the pitch of the ship. For a moment, no one breathed. Then everything happened at once.

     The sun sank below the horizon and cast the deck in darkness. Fred and the ogre dove for the sphere. Red knocked a pirate overboard. Job shrieked and fell over; and the shiny ball rolled right into Kevin’s hands as he lay weeping on the deck.

     “Heave it over!” Red shouted, knocking out another pirate.

     “Take it,” the captain roared from the upper deck.

     The ogre grabbed the sphere from Kevin, who promptly fainted. He raised the sphere above his head in triumph. 

     Just then, Novan burst from the stairwell and landed a mighty kick with both back legs to the ogre’s midsection. The brute flipped over the railing and sank under the inky waters. As the light of the sphere disappeared under the waves Kevin looked up, feeling his magic return. Fred lit a lantern.

     In the circle of light they saw the captain with his sword to Job’s throat. The captain gave an evil chuckle. “You’ve made a fine mess of my crew but I still have the upper hand.”

     “Shut up, stupid human.” Adina stood at the top of the stairs with three gleaming fairies hovering in the air behind her. “I’ve had it with you. All baddies, go to sleep.” The captain and remaining pirates hit the deck with a thud. “And you!” she yelled at Job. “I thought you were a warrior.”

     “Adina,” Job called meekly. “A little light please.”

     Adina rolled her eyes as she swirled her hand above her head. The rigging and masts came alive, bathing the whole ship in fairy light. “Now take me home,” she commanded.

     Red took the helm and turned the ship for Fairy Land. It lit the night with twinkling lights across the dark waters. As they journeyed home Adina could be heard for miles. “What kind of warrior is afraid of the dark? Honestly! A little help, girls. You know I can’t fly. See what you can do with this wing.”…

10 QUESTIONS with Author, TOM HOWARD

I had the pleasure of meeting Tom Howard at the Arkansas Writer's Conference. He writes science fiction and fantasy. Tom has published over seventy short stories. 

1. What inspires you to write?
I can't not write. Even if I didn't sell a thing or no one ever saw what I wrote, I'd still have to write. I feel the need to put words to paper and become uncomfortable if I don't write for a day or two.

What inspired Sara’s Station?

I was signed up for my fifth NANO where I had to write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. I always succeed, but I have a bad habit of spending the month before outlining the entire thing down to the paragraph level. When it comes to the actual writing, it’s pretty lackluster, in my opinion, because I can’t escape the outline.  For this particular NANO, I decided to become a pantser and not use an outline at all. Knowing I’d have trouble, I chose to emulate Andre Norton and use her YA novels as a model. Sara and her companions, Tig and Banglebus, pounded on the inside of my skull to get them out of one frying pan and into another.

2. How much time do you spend writing weekly?

I spend a couple hours a day. My schedule is fairly loose as a banking software consultant so whenever I finish my writing related emails in the morning and send out the

short stories that have been rejected the day before (I usually have twenty-five short

stories making the rounds of various anthologies and SF magazines) in the afternoon, I finish or polish whatever short story I have in the works.

How much time did you spend on Sara’s Station?

As I said, it was a NANO product; and I finished the 50,000 words in 30 days. However, before the publisher would accept it, I had to add an additional 10,000 words. A friend suggested I add another character to add that many pages, and the evil planetary administrator was born.

3. What projects are you working on right now?

For a workshop I’m attending in Oklahoma City the end of June, I had to write a 5,000 word story for them to critique. Having watched the entire season of Closer recently (and being heavily influenced by what I read and write), I decided to write a SF procedural.  Unfortunately, by the time I got to 5,000 words, they’d just discovered the body. So this one will be considerably longer. I submitted an old short story to the workshop and intend to complete the murder mystery. I am also putting together an anthology of my own SF work for a local publisher. It contains all the SF stories I’ve written in the last couple years that have been bought and published. I’m calling it Volume 1.

4.  What are you currently reading?

I am currently reading a really stereotypical sixties SF book called Mission to Universe by Gordon R. Dickson. I am reviewing it for a book blog called Cannonball Read. I review a book a week for them. I’ve just finished beta reading Crimson Son 2 for my friend, Russ Linton.

5. What is your writing process?

I have an office but I rarely write there, finding it easier to compartmentalize my life and keep business and pleasure separate. Instead, I have a 14-foot table in my living room where I tend to do all my projects, including writing. The table is a result of me hosting the Central Arkansas Speculative Writing Group, a critiquing group of local writers, for the last seven years. I tend to fabricate the stories in my head before I put them to paper, and as a SF and fantasy short story writer, that seems to work. I only write on my Macbook, but I had to install MacWord. I write until I reach a good stopping place, usually an hour or two. I’ve also got several stories in the rewriting process at any time. Rarely, a story will sweep me up and keep me at the keyboard until it’s finished. I don’t write flash. My stories tend to average 5,000 words, and those seem to sell best. I don’t know how we survived before Duotrope started matching up anthologies with writers.

6. What do you do when you are stuck or blocked?

I’ve heard about this strange thing called writer’s block but haven’t experienced it yet.

(I think you just confirmed that you are an alien.)

I have writer’s flood. Usually I have more ideas than I have time for. I think it’s because I write what I read or see. If I’ve just finished reading a short story collection about animals in space, I usually write my own story on the same theme.  If I have trouble within a story, my crit group is happy to tell me where I’ve gone off the tracks. One of my most popular stories was nicely vivisected by a beta reader who said “you have a really good story until this point when it turns to crap.” They were exactly right and when I removed the crap, it was a great story and sold immediately.

7. What were your influences growing up?

Wow, I had so many. I remember reading all fourteen Oz books when I was ten. We had a great Carnegie library in my little hometown of South Bend, Washington, and I spent most summers locked away in the juvenile section. My “gateway” book into fantasy and science fiction was Madeline L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time. In school, we had a great SF selection, and I read Asimov, Heinlein, Norton, and anyone else I could get my hands on.

8. When did you know you were a writer?

Probably the fifth grade. I had talked a few friends into collaborating on a serialized story of movie monsters as super-heroes. I did a lot of writing for my bachelors and masters degrees after joining the military, but I did some fun writing as a Star Trek fanzine writer. I specialized in Lieutenant Uhura stories. Looking back on the bad grammar, foggy POV, and unoriginal stores, I cringe. When I helped form a writers’ group and sold my first story in 2010, I knew I was a writer. Funny how having a paycheck makes it all legitimate.

9. What advice would you give other writers?

Persevere, persevere, persevere. Write something and have others read it. Go to every workshop you possibly can and learn everything. I recently attended an online seminar by a life coach sponsored by an online crit group I’m a member of (plug for Inked Voices). Study other writers and what they have to say. Learn to take criticism but don’t believe everything you hear (especially from writers who are also beginning). Use the constructive criticism you receive and make your story better and better. Hang onto your individual style. Avoid offers too easily obtained (SFWA, Science Fiction Writers of America, posts a Beware of Publisher page that you don’t have to be a member to access). Use Duotrope if you’ve got some funds available, Submission Grinder if you don’t. Learn grammar rules and use them. I heard an interview with a professional violinist recently who said he gets all the technical parts of a piece down before adding the personality and passion. I think all artists should do the same, including writers.

10. What should readers know about you? 

I’m an average guy with an average background. If I can write and sell stories, anyone can. I’ve sold almost seventy-five stories in the last seven years (sold, not merely published). I find short stories much easier to write and sell than novels, but I have tried my hand at a couple (I wrote a 100,000 word novel for last NANO). I think I’ve written three or four novels, and I have nothing but respect and admiration for people who can keep all those subplots and characters juggled satisfactorily.  I use a great deal of my own life in my stories. Write about what you know, right?  Several people have commented on how my characters seem to come to life in a very short span of pages. Mostly it’s because I use real people so it’s easy to give them a full-blown personality. I’ve written several stories about my rustic upbringing in the Pacific Northwest.

Check out Tom's other work available on Amazon with this link. 
Tom Howard

REVIEW: SARA'S STATION by Tom Howard

I bought this book at the Arkansas Writer's Conference from author, Tom Howard. SARA'S STATION is a classic scenario with twists and turns that kept me turning the pages.

     Sara is independent and more than capable, working to pay space port fees while her father recovers from an illness at the hospital. As Free Spacers, they carry goods from other planets to places like Sargon in their aging transport, the Provider.

     She never intended to get drawn into local politics but she also couldn't sit idle and watch an assassination. Saving Lordling Tig pulls the teen mechanic and Acting Captain into a drama that involves ancient technology with an attitude, a telepathic monkey, a jealous girlfriend, royal intrigue, a reptilian policeman, ancient ruins, and several white poofy dresses. Her accidental involvement might just save the planet...or destroy it.

     SARA'S STATION is a fun, easy read that left me wanting more from these well developed characters.

Available in paperback and on Kindle at Amazon.com

Review: The Case of the Invisible Souls by R. Weir

Author R. Weir shines a light on social injustice and the plight of the homeless in this latest Jarvis Mann detective story.

     When a homeless veteran asks our erstwhile P.I. for help, he must confront his own preconceptions and notions about the invisible souls living in the city around him.

Once on the case, Jarvis learns a bit about life on the streets and the fear and depravation of that life. The rich and powerful seek to sweep the helpless aside for their own gain. It isn't a difficult case. The hard part is getting people to care. 

     In past cases, we've seen P.I. Jarvis Mann's cunning as an investigator, his failure as a boyfriend, and his badass moves as a fighter and protector. In this case, it is his loyalty and heart that take center stage. 


The Case of the Invisible Souls is slated for release June 24 on Amazon. Enjoy More from the Jarvis Mann Detective Series: 
Tracking a Shadow http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MQHVKJA
Blood Brothers - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B019S6AQXW
Dead Man Code http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LY8JZND

Excerpt 2 from MARABELLA, QUEST FOR MAGICS

Excerpts are from my first draft and subject to change. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think. Thanks!

Marabella had been to Sellwood several times over the seasons, riding with Wesley or Henry to trade for goods and supplies.  It had been several moon cycles since her last visit.  She pulled the old mare to a stop at the Roadhouse.  She knew it to be a rough place, frequented by travelers.  But, it was owned by a friend of Henry's so Marabella felt reasonably sure she would find lodging for the night in one of his four tidy little rooms upstairs.  She tied the mare by the cistern for horses and let her take a long drink.  “I really should give you a name.” She spoke in low tones as she brushed some of the mud from the mare's flank.  The horse raised her head and looked right at Marabella, swishing her muddy tail. “How about Nipsy!” The mare stared blankly at her. “Clementine?” Still, no response. “What do you think of Bessamae? I’ll call you Bess.” The mare blinked her big, soft eyes and nuzzled Marabella’s hand. Marabella chuckled and patted her firmly. “Bess it is.”

     In the failing light Belle saw several broken chairs on the porch.  Once inside, she immediately noticed that the Roadhouse was empty except for one table of four men.  Orsino, the proprietor stood behind the bar.  “Hello, my friend.” Belle greeted him.  The usually friendly man said nothing.  He looked to the table of men with a slight nod and motioned for Belle to come to the bar.  Two of the men sat facing the door.  She could feel their eyes on her.  One leaned to the side to get a better view, looked her up and down, taking in her muddy clothes, dirty face and tangled hair.  He glanced to the other men and shrugged, settling back in his chair.  “What was that all about?” Belle questioned the barman quietly. 

     Orsino set a mug of ale in front of her and leaned close.  “These men have been here for several days.  They're followers of that scholar in Drosia named Koros.  Every time a Demalion, or someone they suspect is Demalion comes in, they start trouble.  Half my tables and chairs have been destroyed in the fights just this week.  They've each taken one of the four rooms I have upstairs so any travelers have to go someplace else.”

     “Isn't there a Constable's Crew here in Sellwood?” Belle asked.

       “One of them is on the Constable's Crew.  Another is his brother.  I tried complaining to the Magistrate but he thinks they are just rough boys out for a bit of fun.  He claims as long as they pay their bill, I should have nothing to complain about.”  Suddenly, Orsino cocked his head to the side and looked to the door.  “Where is Henry?  You aren't alone are you?”

      Belle dropped her saddlebag on the barstool beside her and sighed.  “I'm afraid so.  I was hoping to get a room for the night, but I suppose I'll have to head back out to the woods and look for a campsite.”

       “Well, that won't do.  The wife would never let me hear the end of it and she'd tell Ma Nan and well I just don't need that kind of trouble.”  He smiled at Belle.  “You can take the loft in the stables.  There's clean straw and I have some extra blankets.  I am sorry...” Orsino let out a long sigh. 

       “That sounds great!”  Belle smiled brightly.  The idea of a soft bed of straw really did sound good to her.  Her body ached from the long ride and she was not fully recovered from the savage beating Malick had given her just a day ago.  Belle reached to her pocket for her coin pouch.  “How much for me and my horse?”

       “Put your money away girl.  I am glad to have you.  You just mind your lantern up in that loft."

        “I will.  Thank you Orsino. Oh, and by the way, there’s a couple of fellows a ways back, blocking the road and setting a trap for travelers.”

         “I’ll put the word out about them. And mind you pull that ladder up after you.  Later in the night, when these fellows get in their drink, they sometimes go looking for trouble.”  He shot a glance at the table and frowned.  The men paid no notice of Belle as she exited. 

          Bess sighed as Belle removed her saddle. The stables had plenty of fresh straw and a curry comb and rags for the animals.   Though her muscles ached and she was tired, she used the comb and rags to give the mare a proper clean up.  When she was finished, she drew a large bucket of water from the well outside to give herself a cleanup as well.  Slipping to the back of the stall where Bess munched on the oats Halsta had provided, Belle stripped off her mud spattered shirt and used the fragrant soap from her pack to bathe.  She used her bathwater to wash out her muddy clothes.  Up in the loft she hung her clothes on the rafters to dry and finally stretched out on the soft bed of straw and blankets.  She had just begun to doze off when she remembered the ladder.  She heard the sounds of a row in the Roadhouse as she pulled the ladder up and flopped back down exhausted.

          Belle opened her eyes.  In the darkness she could see a shadowy figure standing over her. She reached for her knife but it was not at her side.  The figure took a step toward her and she saw Malick brandishing her knife.  She tried to back away but there was nowhere to go.  Another step closer revealed Malick's yellow teeth in a grim smile. His gut hung with gore where she had plunged in her blade.  Belle saw his bloody hands raise her knife. She awoke with a start.  Early morning light was streaming into the stable.  Her knife was in her hand.  She rubbed at her eyes to shake off the nightmare.  

       Belle readied her pack and walked Bess out of the stable to graze on the sweet vetch growing at the edge of the woods.  She walked up to the roadhouse to give Orsino her thanks for his hospitality.  Belle was intent upon getting back on her journey.  Mounting the steps she took notice of a large wagon and team of horses tied up at the front.  She walked through the open door to find the Roadhouse in shambles.  Orsino was behind the bar slicing bread and cheese.  Standing shoulder to shoulder at the bar were two very large men.  She recognized them immediately.  “Does Posey know you’re in the Roadhouse at this time of morning?” She called rather loudly.  The large men turned.

     “Belle!”  Jak shouted.  
     “Tell me you didn’t do this.” Belle scolded.
     “We had quite the party last night, and you missed it.”  Jak elbowed his brother Bubby and they both laughed heartily.  Belle glanced around the room at the overturned tables and broken pottery.  She noticed a fresh bruise above Orsino’s eye. 

       “Your guests again?” She looked at the barman and gestured to the destruction.  Orsino shrugged and winced a bit as he nodded.  Jak lumbered over and hugged her.  

         “I didn’t expect to see you here.  Aren’t you headed for Blackwytch?” Bubby asked, stuffing a fistful of bread in his mouth. 

          Belle cocked her head to the side.  “I see you’ve heard.”

           “We didn’t think we’d catch up to ya so soon.  We took Miss Ruth to the stone cottage but Wesley weren’t around so I figured he might a come with ya.  He here?” Bubby winked. 

            Marabella blushed. “No. This is a journey I need to make alone.”

            Bubby turned to his brother and whispered loudly. “Bet your hat Wesley ain’t happy about that.” Jak shushed him, shooting a wide eyed look in Marabella’s direction.

     A low moan from the corner caught their attention. “Our friends are up.” Jak grinned widely.

     In the corner of the room Marabella saw two of the men from the day before. They were crumpled in a pile of overturned tables and smashed chairs.  Jak grabbed a pitcher of ale from the bar and strode toward the men. “Wait, wait brother!” Bubby exclaimed, retrieving the pitcher from him. “That’s no way to wake a man. What’s the matter with you?” He reached behind the bar. Handing a large bucket to Jak, he laughed. “No sense in wasting good ale, when water’ll do just fine.” Jak doused the men who coughed and sputtered to life as the brothers laughed uproariously.

     “I’m on the Constable’s Crew.” One of the men mumbled. “You can’t…ow.” He winced in pain as he struggled to get to his feet. “You broke my shoulder. I’ll have you…ow…arrested.”

     Bubby strode across the room. “Oh, now don’t get all upset. We was powerful careful not to break anybody.” He roughly helped the man to his feet.

     The man’s shoulder sagged. He was obviously injured. Bubby grabbed him by the shoulder with one huge hand, pinning him to the wall. With a tight grip on his arm, Bubby pulled down and twisted. Everyone heard a loud crunch.  The man let out a girl-like scream, then spoke timidly. “Oh, well that does feel much better.”

     Bubby put a long muscular arm around his shoulders. “Happens all the time. It was just dislocated. Easy fix. You just chew on this a while, git some breakfast in you and you’ll be fine in a day or so and ready to rough house again.” He handed the man a sizable piece of willow bark from his pocket. “I keep that handy all the time. Whenever my big brother Mel gits a holt a me, I usually need it.”

     The man looked incredulously at the bulky brothers. “You mean there’s a bigger one?”

Bubby threw back his head and laughed long and loud. “I’m the little one.” He clapped the fellow on the shoulder, making him wince. “You see, Pap was a big man; bigger than me. And he met Mam. She was a good half head taller than me too.”

     Jak began to giggle. “We don’t know why Bubby turned out so small. Truth is Mam is a bit taller than me too.” Jak was picking up tables and chairs, sorting out the damaged furniture. He pulled the other fellow to his feet. “Wake up, friend. We got to set Orsino’s place to rights before we leave.” The man groaned and allowed himself to be plopped on a chair like a doll. “What did we do with the other two?” Jak asked.

     Orsino spooned thick porridge into several bowls on the bar. “There’s one back here.” He laughed. Marabella peered over the bar. The man was curled up like a child. His compatriot sniggered as he poured ale on the man from a cup on the bar. The sleeping fellow started, throwing a few feeble punches at the air as he sat up. Orsino helped him to stand.

      He leaned heavily on the bar, yawned and wiped his face on his sleeve.  He scanned the room with a scowl. “Where’s Tig?”

     “Tig?” Bubby frowned. “Oh, the little one.” He began laughing again. “He had a bit too much drink. We put him in here so he didn’t git hurt.” He walked to the cabinet under the stairs. Opening the door, he revealed Tig, sitting on a shelf amidst the extra pitchers and plates. He was curled into a ball with his knees to his chest and his thumb in his mouth. They all had a hardy laugh.

     “Aw, don’t wake him.” Marabella crooned. The two men at the bar and the one still sitting at the table all sniggered when Bubby closed the cabinet as Tig snored.

     Marabella moved closer to the man at the bar. He was chewing thoughtfully on the willow bark Bubby had given him. When he turned to her she caught him with her emerald gaze. He was immediately lost in her eyes. “Why do you fellows harass Orsino so?”

 

   He leaned in closer to her. “We do it for the money. Koros’ soldiers pay good coin for runnin’ out Demalions or bustin’ up those what supports ‘em.”

     “Now you don’t need to go tellin’ our business.” His friend at the end of the bar barked.

     But Marabella held him with her stare. He didn’t seem to hear anything going on around him. She continued. “But Demalions are good people. You all had a grand time of it last night. Right? Do they pay you enough to go to all the trouble of staying away from your home and constantly fighting?”

     He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “They do not. I don’t have no problems with Demalions. They always got superior goods, knives and such. But, the Constables Crew don’t pay much. Ain’t that many bounties and folks around here pretty much behave. And I do like the coin.”

     She leaned in closer. Marabella looked deeply into his bleary, blood shot eyes. “Your clear conscience is worth more than the pittance they offer. You should convince your friends that it’s time to go home and leave poor old Orsino alone. The Demalions don’t really warrant such violence. And don’t you think that Koros fellow must have his own reasons for starting all this strife?”

     The man nodded slowly. “True. True you are. Why should we continue as such? None ever has no magics no how. We ain’t yet found anything other than firesticks as for magical items.”

     She perked up. “You’ve been instructed to take magical items?”

     “Yeah. They pays extra for that stuff. But we ain’t found nothin’ like that.  I don’t believe in all that anyway. I know there be firesticks and I even heard of carry all satchels that hold more than they should but such as that is useful and all.”

     “Why does he want magical items?”

     “Don’t know. Never thought about it, truly. We just was lookin’ out for ‘em. But now I’m a wonderin’ why don’t we just go home. They don’t pay enough for stayin’ here all the time and old Orsino is a pleasant enough fellow.”

     Marabella blinked, slowly releasing him from her spell. Then she gave him her sweetest smile. “I think that’s a great idea. You fellows should all go home, right after you help your new friends set the Roadhouse to rights. You can build a few tables, can’t you?”

     After a quick breakfast, Marabella filled her waterskins and said her goodbyes. She mounted Bess and started down the road. Passing Sellwood, she saw the town coming to life but she only had one thought in her mind. She would push to complete her journey today. Today she would find Geremiah, her father.

Excerpt from MARABELLA, QUEST FOR MAGICS

From the rough draft and subject to change...I'm still working on an opening that will satisfy readers of the first book and intrigue new readers. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. Thanks

He lunged at her with his dagger and stumbled.  Belle struck, slicing hard and deep across his face. “For my mother.” She barely whispered. Malick screamed, dropping his dagger. Belle plunged her knife into his belly withdrawing it with an upward motion. Malick stumbled toward her, surprise and disbelief in his eyes. He reached out for her and she drove the big blade into his chest up to the hilt. His forward motion carried him almost on top of her spouting blood and gore.

     Marabella opened her eyes. She steadied her breathing to shake off the memory.  She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but it was so comfortable and warm wrapped in Wesley’s strong arms. She moved slowly, sliding from his embrace. His steady breathing told her that the Valerian root sleeping potion she’d used to dose him would keep him dreaming for some time. Padding silently down the stairs, she stepped into Wesley’s boots and crept outside. The darkness was beginning to withdraw as the stars faded. Marabella’s clothes hung on the line. They were nearly dry. Creeping inside, she hung them by the dying fire while she tidied up.

     She cleaned the dried blood from the curved needle Wesley had used to stitch her cuts and put all the supplies back into their proper place. Looking at his handiwork, she smiled. The six tiny stitches across her thigh held nicely. Marabella held her hand over the wound. “Sultaroos.” The healing spell worked well on the wounds. She would just have to live with the bruises.

     She dressed quickly and went outside again. She saddled the sorrel mare, attaching her pack and saddle bag, then stole back inside once more. Taking paper and quill, Marabella sought to write Wesley a note but the words would not come. She knew he would be hurt and angry when he discovered her gone. The quill hovered over the empty page. Glancing out the window at the ever lightening sky, she scratched a quick note. “He’ll understand.” She told herself. Marabella took Wesley’s shirt that she’d worn and quietly climbed the stairs. He looked so handsome and peaceful sleeping there. She wanted nothing more than to gaze once more into his blue green eyes. But he would never let her go alone. As much as she would love to have him with her, he was needed at home. His mother was unwell, more so than he realized. She touched his cheek and left quickly in the first light of dawn.

     The sorrel mare trotted down the muddy road. Marabella inhaled the sweetness of the early morning air. The breeze teased and whipped her long dark hair into a familiar mass of tangles. She sat in the saddle thinking about the all the events that had brought her to this moment.

     “My father is alive.” She said aloud. She was a cascade of emotion; happy, sad, and very angry. Happy to be moving in some direction, instead of stuck, without purpose, as she had been for the four long seasons since her mother’s murder. Marabella had spent the last four summers and four winters waiting; waiting to grow up enough, waiting to be stronger, waiting to learn more about her magics and how to use them, waiting to seek justice for Mara, her mother. 

     She was also waiting for her little brother to grow up some, and he had not disappointed.  A faint smile played across her lips as she thought of Natan. She glanced at the copper bracelet he’d made for her, as she adjusted her diminutive frame in the saddle.