An Uncertain Death
A work in progress - I have to admit that it's not getting a lot of attention at the moment. I got somewhat sidetracked with Repeat, and then with Amaranna. But I haven't forgotten it. Currently it's about 35K words, and it's the continuation of the story of Jeff and Reesa. Here's how it starts. Those of you who have read (and I hope, enjoyed) Ripped in Two will recognize that this opens the morning after Jeff takes Reesa home, right at the end of Ripped in Two.
Prologue
Holding the blindfolded woman by the collar of her blouse, he guided her through the desert. Although he took a modicum of care to direct her between the cactus, every so often, her leg would brush against a cholla or prickly pear that left joints, pads or just spines hanging from her slacks. Each time she whimpered or even cried out as the spines pierced her skin, but he ignored her sounds. None of those little hurts would matter in the long run. She fought the rope binding her wrists, but he was confident of his knots and ignored her efforts there as well.
Finally he reached the spot he wanted and jerked her back slightly to stop her progress. She stood there, trembling, as she wondered what was in store next and waited for something to happen. Carefully he raised his pistol until the suppressor screwed onto the end of the barrel almost touched her hair at the base of her skull. One shot, the silenced report hardly loud enough to arouse the interest of any wildlife that hadn’t fled at their approach, and her lifeless body collapsed in a heap on the desert floor. He unscrewed the suppressor, dropped it in his pocket, replaced the thread protector on the barrel and holstered his pistol. Humming quietly, he readjusted his t-shirt over the pistol before pulling out a folding knife and proceeding to remove not just the rope but all of her clothing. He shook off the worst of the cactus from her slacks. When he had her clothing reduced to a small bundle, he tucked it under his arm, put the knife back in his other pocket and turned to walk back to his waiting car. Christmas was less than a week away, and he still had to get a present for himself. What should he buy?
* * *
The room was small, but it had a refrigerator. Most importantly, while it was almost as far from the center of the resort as was possible, it was still there. The woman sat at the table, carefully assembling a very small number of canapes. Just five of them, that was all she was going to need. They had to be done just so, and they had to look very appetizing. Even, or maybe especially, despite what she was doing to them. Carefully she filled the syringe for the first dosage.
She glanced across the room to the clothes bar. Her outfit for the next day was hanging there, black slacks and vest on one hanger, white blouse on another. A black bow tie was draped around the hook of the blouse’s hanger. She’d already removed all of the labels. On top of the refrigerator stood a styrofoam head on which sat a brown wig, arranged in a bun. Along with the makeup in the bathroom and a few other items, everything was ready for tomorrow.
Finishing her work, she carefully wrapped the canapes in plastic wrap and placed them in the small refrigerator. After washing her hands, she picked up the remainder of the roll of plastic wrap. She’d toss it somewhere while she was out to get dinner. Tomorrow was the payoff. Some people would get just what was coming to them. And very publicly indeed.
Chapter 1
Earlier that morning:
Reesa Malloy woke about halfway and tried to scrunch her body pillow into a slightly different configuration. It didn’t shift. Gradually this fact penetrated her consciousness, followed closely by two other perceptions: her body pillow was breathing, and it had an arm around her! This brought her fully awake in a heartbeat, her eyelids snapping open like suddenly-released window shades, just before memory flooded in. Dinner last night at Amy’s house (the head of the Family!). Revealing to Jeff for the first time that she, just as he, was Family (although as twelfth cousins, not exactly closely related). Driving to her home with him. The sudden decision to come to his house and for the first time, let him take her to bed. Her first time – with anyone – in almost ten years. He’d been amazing, and amazingly gentle at the same time. Cautiously she opened her eyes and looked up to find him watching her, a slight smile on his face. Not a triumphant smile, merely a pleasant one. Do I dare think of it as a loving smile? No, I don’t. Don’t dare, that is. Let’s not even think about that right now. “Good morning.”
“And a good morning to you, too.” Decision time was fast approaching. No, it was here. Was she going to keep the relationship at this new level or try to take it back to the level it had been at before? Had she simply thanked Jeff for charging a loaded gun for her, for saving her life after she was shot and helping her through the recovery, or was she accepting a whole new level of relationship between them? Did she really want to stay alone? Enjoying the friendly warmth of his body, the feel of his arm around her, she stretched and snuggled closer to him. This was good. Yes, she liked this. Okay, so much for not wanting a boyfriend. She reached up with her free hand and caressed his whiskered face. “You’re a sneaky SOB, Jeffrey Escarton. You know that?”
He kept smiling at her. “Meaning what?”
Reesa smiled back. “I told you way back when that I didn’t need a boyfriend and wasn’t looking for a friend. Now I’ve got you, and you’re both. That’s what I mean.”
Jeff turned his head and lifted it slightly to kiss her. “Want to toss me back?”
Another stretch. “No, I think I’ll keep you. At least depending on what you’re fixing for breakfast.”
A work in progress - I have to admit that it's not getting a lot of attention at the moment. I got somewhat sidetracked with Repeat, and then with Amaranna. But I haven't forgotten it. Currently it's about 35K words, and it's the continuation of the story of Jeff and Reesa. Here's how it starts. Those of you who have read (and I hope, enjoyed) Ripped in Two will recognize that this opens the morning after Jeff takes Reesa home, right at the end of Ripped in Two.
Prologue
Holding the blindfolded woman by the collar of her blouse, he guided her through the desert. Although he took a modicum of care to direct her between the cactus, every so often, her leg would brush against a cholla or prickly pear that left joints, pads or just spines hanging from her slacks. Each time she whimpered or even cried out as the spines pierced her skin, but he ignored her sounds. None of those little hurts would matter in the long run. She fought the rope binding her wrists, but he was confident of his knots and ignored her efforts there as well.
Finally he reached the spot he wanted and jerked her back slightly to stop her progress. She stood there, trembling, as she wondered what was in store next and waited for something to happen. Carefully he raised his pistol until the suppressor screwed onto the end of the barrel almost touched her hair at the base of her skull. One shot, the silenced report hardly loud enough to arouse the interest of any wildlife that hadn’t fled at their approach, and her lifeless body collapsed in a heap on the desert floor. He unscrewed the suppressor, dropped it in his pocket, replaced the thread protector on the barrel and holstered his pistol. Humming quietly, he readjusted his t-shirt over the pistol before pulling out a folding knife and proceeding to remove not just the rope but all of her clothing. He shook off the worst of the cactus from her slacks. When he had her clothing reduced to a small bundle, he tucked it under his arm, put the knife back in his other pocket and turned to walk back to his waiting car. Christmas was less than a week away, and he still had to get a present for himself. What should he buy?
* * *
The room was small, but it had a refrigerator. Most importantly, while it was almost as far from the center of the resort as was possible, it was still there. The woman sat at the table, carefully assembling a very small number of canapes. Just five of them, that was all she was going to need. They had to be done just so, and they had to look very appetizing. Even, or maybe especially, despite what she was doing to them. Carefully she filled the syringe for the first dosage.
She glanced across the room to the clothes bar. Her outfit for the next day was hanging there, black slacks and vest on one hanger, white blouse on another. A black bow tie was draped around the hook of the blouse’s hanger. She’d already removed all of the labels. On top of the refrigerator stood a styrofoam head on which sat a brown wig, arranged in a bun. Along with the makeup in the bathroom and a few other items, everything was ready for tomorrow.
Finishing her work, she carefully wrapped the canapes in plastic wrap and placed them in the small refrigerator. After washing her hands, she picked up the remainder of the roll of plastic wrap. She’d toss it somewhere while she was out to get dinner. Tomorrow was the payoff. Some people would get just what was coming to them. And very publicly indeed.
Chapter 1
Earlier that morning:
Reesa Malloy woke about halfway and tried to scrunch her body pillow into a slightly different configuration. It didn’t shift. Gradually this fact penetrated her consciousness, followed closely by two other perceptions: her body pillow was breathing, and it had an arm around her! This brought her fully awake in a heartbeat, her eyelids snapping open like suddenly-released window shades, just before memory flooded in. Dinner last night at Amy’s house (the head of the Family!). Revealing to Jeff for the first time that she, just as he, was Family (although as twelfth cousins, not exactly closely related). Driving to her home with him. The sudden decision to come to his house and for the first time, let him take her to bed. Her first time – with anyone – in almost ten years. He’d been amazing, and amazingly gentle at the same time. Cautiously she opened her eyes and looked up to find him watching her, a slight smile on his face. Not a triumphant smile, merely a pleasant one. Do I dare think of it as a loving smile? No, I don’t. Don’t dare, that is. Let’s not even think about that right now. “Good morning.”
“And a good morning to you, too.” Decision time was fast approaching. No, it was here. Was she going to keep the relationship at this new level or try to take it back to the level it had been at before? Had she simply thanked Jeff for charging a loaded gun for her, for saving her life after she was shot and helping her through the recovery, or was she accepting a whole new level of relationship between them? Did she really want to stay alone? Enjoying the friendly warmth of his body, the feel of his arm around her, she stretched and snuggled closer to him. This was good. Yes, she liked this. Okay, so much for not wanting a boyfriend. She reached up with her free hand and caressed his whiskered face. “You’re a sneaky SOB, Jeffrey Escarton. You know that?”
He kept smiling at her. “Meaning what?”
Reesa smiled back. “I told you way back when that I didn’t need a boyfriend and wasn’t looking for a friend. Now I’ve got you, and you’re both. That’s what I mean.”
Jeff turned his head and lifted it slightly to kiss her. “Want to toss me back?”
Another stretch. “No, I think I’ll keep you. At least depending on what you’re fixing for breakfast.”
Repeat
Repeat tells the story of two people, email friends who haven't seen each other in almost fifty years, who find themselves back in their teenage bodies, when and where they first met, but with all of the memories of their later lives. The story follows them as they make the choices they always regretted not making - only to find other choices can impact their lives in very different, but not necessarily better, ways. The ebook is currently out, although the format is incompatible with actual Kindles (it does just fine on Kindle Fire tablets) and hard copies, both trade paperback and HB, are out as well. There is even an audiobook available, and I've sent my agent a proposed screenplay adaptation. You can buy the book here or go to http://repeat-lives.com for the most up-to-date information.
Here's a little bit of it, just to whet your appetite a bit:
A small table in the far corner of the dining room let them put their heads close together and talk privately. Paul couldn’t tear his gaze away from her hypnotic eyes.
“You’re a lot ... calmer about this than I am.” He sat for a moment, just focusing on the rhythmic movement of his chest as he breathed. “Are we going crazy? Or is it just me?”
She shook her head minutely, then tilted it slightly. “No, we’re not, either one of us. This is all real. I knew what was happening, though, so I had a chance to get used to it. And I made a choice.”
Paul went through a momentary roller coaster of emotion. This was real? He could really live his life over again? Actually be with Angelina? His eyes widened as he realized that yes, that was exactly what was happening.
“A choice? What do you mean, a choice? What sort of choice?” Fearing his voice had gotten too loud, he glanced around, but nobody was paying any attention to them.
Angelina looked down at her plate, not meeting his stare and keeping her voice so low he had to strain to hear her. “When I died, I was ... met. I don’t know who it was, but it was some powerful ... being. I said I wanted to be with you. Wait for you. Or go back and be with you from ... from now. He asked me which I’d choose. I said I wanted to be here, with you, but with our memories, so we wouldn’t make the same mistakes we made in the past. In our past. Pasts.” She pushed her food around on her plate aimlessly. “There’s a – a price. We don’t have all of our memories. We don’t get any head starts in life. But we definitely remember enough to know the bigger mistakes we’d made before. That was the price we’d pay if I took that road.” Cautiously she looked up.
Paul was almost speechless. “He? Someone? Who? Jesus? God?”
She looked him in the eye and shook her head. “I really have no idea who it was. Jesus, God, my guardian angel – whoever. I asked, I really did. The only response was no reply, like I hadn’t asked at all. I got an impression that he was male, but not a strong one. Could have been female, I suppose. Could have been ... above all that. But look at this.” She waved her arm to indicate the room around them. “Whoever it was had the power to do this. Or get this done. I’m sorry I couldn’t ask you first, but – you do remember saying that you’d make a wish like this if you knew a genie, don’t you?”
Several boys came to sit at a neighboring table. They looked at both Paul and Angelina briefly, then mostly ignored them. One stared openly at Angelina, until a brief glare from her had him turn back to his friends.
Paul was nodding slowly, his food forgotten. “Yeah, I remember.” He looked up, said nothing at first.
Worry lines creased Angelina’s forehead. “Should I have just ... waited? Gone on? Was this the right thing for me to do? The right choice to make?” One eye glistened as a tear started to form in it. “Almost as soon as we began ... as we got in contact again, I started wishing I’d grown old with you. I just thought maybe now I could. We could. I never wanted–”
“No!” In his haste, he spoke loud enough that the guys at the nearby table looked over, but when he didn’t follow up, they returned their attention to their own dinners. Paul took her hands in his own. Quietly, he continued. “No, no. I said I’d make that wish, and I meant it. I still do. I wanted to have grown old with you, too. I still do. I just – Oh, Jesus. It’s really happening.” He took a deep breath, let it out in a shudder. Shook his head sharply. “Well, that answers a bunch of questions. Ever since I woke up ... like this, I’ve been wondering what’s going on, how and why. Most especially why. Why here, why now, why me.”
“Yeah. Me, too. That ‘it’s really happening’ feeling, I mean. Oh, my God. I have to admit that I really never expected it to come true. But I said this was my choice, and this is what we got.” She looked around the room before returning her attention to him. “We’re missing some memories, you know. Like – remember those little music players? They’d fit into a pocket, and you’d listen on those little ear thingies?”
“Oh, sure. They were called ... I had one with me on the plane. When I got on, I mean. I listened to that song on it. They were ... Damn. I can’t remember.”
She nodded. “That’s what I was saying. No head starts. Nothing that would tell us what company to invest in, or what lottery numbers to play, or anything like that. We still have to make our way the same way we did before. Or find a new way, our own way. But I sure remember my marriages. That’s the sort of thing we got to keep.”
Repeat tells the story of two people, email friends who haven't seen each other in almost fifty years, who find themselves back in their teenage bodies, when and where they first met, but with all of the memories of their later lives. The story follows them as they make the choices they always regretted not making - only to find other choices can impact their lives in very different, but not necessarily better, ways. The ebook is currently out, although the format is incompatible with actual Kindles (it does just fine on Kindle Fire tablets) and hard copies, both trade paperback and HB, are out as well. There is even an audiobook available, and I've sent my agent a proposed screenplay adaptation. You can buy the book here or go to http://repeat-lives.com for the most up-to-date information.
Here's a little bit of it, just to whet your appetite a bit:
A small table in the far corner of the dining room let them put their heads close together and talk privately. Paul couldn’t tear his gaze away from her hypnotic eyes.
“You’re a lot ... calmer about this than I am.” He sat for a moment, just focusing on the rhythmic movement of his chest as he breathed. “Are we going crazy? Or is it just me?”
She shook her head minutely, then tilted it slightly. “No, we’re not, either one of us. This is all real. I knew what was happening, though, so I had a chance to get used to it. And I made a choice.”
Paul went through a momentary roller coaster of emotion. This was real? He could really live his life over again? Actually be with Angelina? His eyes widened as he realized that yes, that was exactly what was happening.
“A choice? What do you mean, a choice? What sort of choice?” Fearing his voice had gotten too loud, he glanced around, but nobody was paying any attention to them.
Angelina looked down at her plate, not meeting his stare and keeping her voice so low he had to strain to hear her. “When I died, I was ... met. I don’t know who it was, but it was some powerful ... being. I said I wanted to be with you. Wait for you. Or go back and be with you from ... from now. He asked me which I’d choose. I said I wanted to be here, with you, but with our memories, so we wouldn’t make the same mistakes we made in the past. In our past. Pasts.” She pushed her food around on her plate aimlessly. “There’s a – a price. We don’t have all of our memories. We don’t get any head starts in life. But we definitely remember enough to know the bigger mistakes we’d made before. That was the price we’d pay if I took that road.” Cautiously she looked up.
Paul was almost speechless. “He? Someone? Who? Jesus? God?”
She looked him in the eye and shook her head. “I really have no idea who it was. Jesus, God, my guardian angel – whoever. I asked, I really did. The only response was no reply, like I hadn’t asked at all. I got an impression that he was male, but not a strong one. Could have been female, I suppose. Could have been ... above all that. But look at this.” She waved her arm to indicate the room around them. “Whoever it was had the power to do this. Or get this done. I’m sorry I couldn’t ask you first, but – you do remember saying that you’d make a wish like this if you knew a genie, don’t you?”
Several boys came to sit at a neighboring table. They looked at both Paul and Angelina briefly, then mostly ignored them. One stared openly at Angelina, until a brief glare from her had him turn back to his friends.
Paul was nodding slowly, his food forgotten. “Yeah, I remember.” He looked up, said nothing at first.
Worry lines creased Angelina’s forehead. “Should I have just ... waited? Gone on? Was this the right thing for me to do? The right choice to make?” One eye glistened as a tear started to form in it. “Almost as soon as we began ... as we got in contact again, I started wishing I’d grown old with you. I just thought maybe now I could. We could. I never wanted–”
“No!” In his haste, he spoke loud enough that the guys at the nearby table looked over, but when he didn’t follow up, they returned their attention to their own dinners. Paul took her hands in his own. Quietly, he continued. “No, no. I said I’d make that wish, and I meant it. I still do. I wanted to have grown old with you, too. I still do. I just – Oh, Jesus. It’s really happening.” He took a deep breath, let it out in a shudder. Shook his head sharply. “Well, that answers a bunch of questions. Ever since I woke up ... like this, I’ve been wondering what’s going on, how and why. Most especially why. Why here, why now, why me.”
“Yeah. Me, too. That ‘it’s really happening’ feeling, I mean. Oh, my God. I have to admit that I really never expected it to come true. But I said this was my choice, and this is what we got.” She looked around the room before returning her attention to him. “We’re missing some memories, you know. Like – remember those little music players? They’d fit into a pocket, and you’d listen on those little ear thingies?”
“Oh, sure. They were called ... I had one with me on the plane. When I got on, I mean. I listened to that song on it. They were ... Damn. I can’t remember.”
She nodded. “That’s what I was saying. No head starts. Nothing that would tell us what company to invest in, or what lottery numbers to play, or anything like that. We still have to make our way the same way we did before. Or find a new way, our own way. But I sure remember my marriages. That’s the sort of thing we got to keep.”
Tales of the Rhadamantha - Amaranna
Amaranna is no longer simply a work in progress. It's now on contract with my agent and on submission to a major publishers. I'm waiting to hear back. It is just under 114K words and I'm well into Pallamira, the sequel. Rhadamantha are women born with magical power - but they cannot use the power. The power goes to the man who deflowers her with her consent, unless he is the one destined mate for her, in which case they both wind up with all of that power and more besides. Rhadamantha can be recognized by their green hair and green eyes - some are greener than others. The intensity of green in the hair is indicative of the amount of power she has. Needless to say, the wizards of this world do their best to gather any Rhadamantha growing up and seduce them. Sometimes these women have other ideas. This is the story of one who finds her mate - but what they have to go through! It was suggested that I give the reader more insight into Amaranna's mind, especially before the point at which Mike appears in her garret, so I rewrote the beginning. She's somewhat inexperienced in the world at large, but she's got some serious emotions tied up with how she's being kept, and she is not happy about it. Here's how it now starts:
Chapter One
Amaranna:
Sometimes I wish I had marked the first day that I was brought here, to Kallendor’s castle, as his ‘guest.’ When my mind drifts in that direction, I sternly tell myself that it would not benefit me one whit to be able to say ‘this day, and no other, marks the end of my second year of captivity.’ I know it is about now, but whether it was a day last week, or next, in truth makes absolutely no difference in my life. Each day is the same. I arise, I walk in the garden – for there is nowhere else I am permitted to – then I return to my room, nay, my cell, conjure breakfast and spend the remainder of the day keeping myself as far from Kallendor as I may. Then dinner time approaches and I repeat the same pattern. I am bored nigh unto tears by this existence, but as far as Kallendor is concerned, there is only one way out of it. I want to go home! I miss my family, my home ... my life. The life that I had before, of course. Angrily I wipe away the tears that started and will myself to make no more show of weakness.
I am kept here, of course, because Kallendor wants me to come willingly to his bed and allow him to take the power that reposes in me. Let him? Oh, I would give him the power! If I could access all of the power that everyone has told me I have, I would turn it on him. He would look good, I think, as some crawling beastie.
Not that I dare utter a word of that where anyone might hear it, or put it down on paper where other eyes might read it. He is, I suspect, quite capable of ordering that I be taken by force, and while that would destroy my power, and likely the man at the same time, it would at least ensure that he was properly feared and make me an example to future Rhadamantha in his household. I, of course, would then be cast out into the world, just one more woman. ‘I used to be someone of significance’ is a worthless sentiment.
All of my life, I have been told that for every Rhadamantha such as I, there is one destined mate out there, one man who will not only claim my power but share it with me and increase it. One man with whom I would forge a bond the likes of which the world has rarely seen, possessing together magic the likes of which the world has also rarely seen.
Thus it is that I remain sequestered in this tower room, reciting over and over to myself the story of Amaranna and Rolanthe, the last such pair. I don’t know how long it was since they were together; they ruled Irrelan briefly, probably from this very same castle, until Rolanthe was killed and Amaranna was driven from Irrelan by Kallendor himself, sometime when my parents were very small, or perhaps when their parents were young. I was named for that Amaranna, and Kallendor does not seem to have considered that I would never give myself to the same wizard who had the mate of my namesake murdered.
My sister would call me an incurable romantic – unless she simply pointed out that I was being childish. That Amaranna found her destined mate, according to the story, because he glowed in her sight and hers alone. As the story says, she saw him ‘approaching in brilliance, outshining the sun.’ I have never seen such radiance in any man, and most certainly not in Kallendor!
Yet I keep looking, ever hopeful.
So where is that one man who is to join with me? Perhaps I am indeed being a foolish young girl, still a romantic, where LeeLee would counsel me to be practical and settle for someone who would make a good husband. Easy for her to say; she is not Rhadamantha. Were I to allow Kallendor to take my maidenhead, then I would still be seeking a good husband, for wizards do not keep Rhadamantha. They take their pleasure, take the power and move on. Not necessarily at once, but soon. There are always more girls, and wizards are always watching for those of us with the green hair and late maturation that marks us unmistakably.
There are times I hate being Rhadamantha, but nobody ever asked me what I wanted. I was born one and have no choice save to remain one all my life. My only choice is whether and to whom to bestow my power, and as the gods witness my oath, Kallendor shall never have it!
Enough of this. The last time I tried to find my mate, I had gone without conjuring any food for myself for two days straight, letting the power accumulate, and still I could find no sign, no resonance such as would tell me that I had found the one man for me. This time I have not conjured any for three days, and only being called to Kallendor’s table that first night let me even contemplate such a length of time. As it is, though, I can feel the power – so much more than I can normally summon. Is it simply my hunger, my weakness, that makes it feel so great? Or is it really that amount of power?
This is my final chance. I could not bear to go four days, and if Kallendor saw me when I had not eaten for two, he would almost certainly notice and insist that I eat. While that would not sap my power, he would then keep a closer eye on me, and that I seek to avoid at all costs. What I shall do if this effort fails, I do not know. I am not allowed on the battlements, lest I throw myself down from them. If this attempt does not succeed, I see no better course. My eyes burn with tears unshed, and again I vow not to show such weakness.
So it is that I stand here, in the center of my room, reaching out to the limits of all of the power I can possibly access, seeking that one man who will glow to my eyes, who will be my bound mate. Using force that I could neither identify nor describe, I reach out further, further ... and suddenly I feel someone.
How do I know it is he? I could never put it into words, but there is a pull, from me to him and from him to me, that is unlike any I have felt before. An attraction, if that is not too inadequate a term, almost like that of a lodestone for steel. No matter whether I can describe it or not, I know that this is the man I have been seeking – this and no other.
All that remains is to bring him here from wherever he is. Desperately I gather every shred of power I can, even calling upon my own life force, since after all, if I cannot bring us together, then life means little to me. I shall exhaust myself and more in doing this, but nothing in my life has or ever will matter more. In some fashion, I envelop him in the force I summon and pull him to me. It requires every bit of strength I can summon and almost more besides, but abruptly, in a burst of ... something – he stands before me ... and the tales spoke true, for he is brilliant in a way only my eyes can see, for the moment before I fall, unconscious, to the floor.
Chapter Two
Mike:
The voice was deep for a woman, almost throaty, but smooth as oiled silk. As soon as I heard it, I ached to hear something sexier in it. “I knew you’d come.”
I opened my eyes. She was tall, slender without being skinny – definitely not skinny – very well-formed, and her thick green hair (green??) fell in easy waves well below her shoulders. An utter, nearly unearthly beauty. Her eyes – I caught a glimpse of an almost inhumanly rich green color there, too, before they rolled up in her head. Then she collapsed in a pile of lavender silk, or satin, or whatever her gown was, on the stone floor.
I rushed over to her and lifted her in my arms. Even with a bunch of petticoats or something that I could feel under the gown, she hardly seemed to weigh anything. I looked around and, over by the wall, saw what was, from the linens and such on it, pretty obviously a sleeping bench. Carrying her over there, I was about to lay her on it when I realized that the pillow was at the wrong end. The blanket, or coverlet, or whatever it was, appeared to be set up for someone sleeping in the other direction, too. Somehow I couldn’t see juggling this unconscious woman in my arms to turn her around, but putting the feet up was supposed to be good for someone in a faint, wasn’t it? I laid her gently on top of the covers and propped her feet on the pillow, after slipping off her sandals. Such lovely, delicate feet! Actually, other than the green hair and eyes, she may have been the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
I could get used to it.
Tales of the Rhadamantha - Pallamira
Pallamira is currently a work in progress. Slow progress, but I have some idea of where the story is going. How it starts out -- Pallamira was taken from her home by her mother some time before she reached puberty, and they have been living on the run ever since. Her mother died several months ago, and since then, Mira has been making her way through the wilderness on her own with but one objective in mind: she must reach the Witchy.
We also meet an old friend of Trinella's, someone who is, shall we say, not quite what she seems. She has made friends with Rosseline, Mike and Amaranna's daughter, and she wants to make friends with Mira, too, but Mira is quite frightened by her.
The wizard who ruled the wizardy where Pallamira lived as a young girl is tracking Mira.
Rentallon, the wizard who left Kallendor's castle before the battle at the end of Amaranna, pledges to deliver the next five Rhadamantha he finds, untouched, to the Witchy. This may be easier said than done, but he'd rather continue to rule Palmeroy than fight with Mike and Amaranna, whom he realizes could squash him 'like a bug.'
There may be other surprises; it remains to be seen.
Pallamira is currently a work in progress. Slow progress, but I have some idea of where the story is going. How it starts out -- Pallamira was taken from her home by her mother some time before she reached puberty, and they have been living on the run ever since. Her mother died several months ago, and since then, Mira has been making her way through the wilderness on her own with but one objective in mind: she must reach the Witchy.
We also meet an old friend of Trinella's, someone who is, shall we say, not quite what she seems. She has made friends with Rosseline, Mike and Amaranna's daughter, and she wants to make friends with Mira, too, but Mira is quite frightened by her.
The wizard who ruled the wizardy where Pallamira lived as a young girl is tracking Mira.
Rentallon, the wizard who left Kallendor's castle before the battle at the end of Amaranna, pledges to deliver the next five Rhadamantha he finds, untouched, to the Witchy. This may be easier said than done, but he'd rather continue to rule Palmeroy than fight with Mike and Amaranna, whom he realizes could squash him 'like a bug.'
There may be other surprises; it remains to be seen.