Not
counting downtime, Book Two had taken me at most 8 months to complete. Part of
this lay in the form of a young/budding editor who offered his services as I
wrote. I sent him chapters, he edited and sent them back. Of course, I looked
over everything, even went back, expanded, and polished places that needed it done.
In others, thanks to Beta Reading, I went back and touched upon certain spots
that really needed it.
Overall,
I’m happy with what I accomplished. Book
One was, as one reader said, a sand box. I was essentially building a world, probably
went a little to heavy in some places, but it was done! Hopefully by the end of
the week, I’ll be posting the working prologue of Book Three. Meanwhile, I give
you the teaser to Book Two!
=============
Eyes opened, and the dance began…
Around a raised
dais of obsidian at the heart of a temple complex, a honey-eyed shaman traced her
graceful, spiraling path. Each step and trance-like movement illuminated the
interior with ghostly wisps of pearlescent light. Her hearts ached briefly,
glancing toward the figure laid still on the mirrored surface of the dais. Once
more, she repeated to herself that it didn’t have to come to this. Once more,
she insisted, that there had to have been a better way. But then, it was
indecision—namely hers—which had led to this moment. The shining lands of
Tav-Shuaa would never return to their former splendor. Its glistening cities
and rich culture were at an end…
A great torrent of power surged up
from deep within, suffusing itself throughout her entire being. In moments, her
eyes ignited in an ethereal inner light. The appearance of the eternal fire of
creation signaled the blessings of the Great Elders, hallowing this place with divine
purpose. Coalescing swiftly into a brilliant aura of white flame, she was
almost mystified by how natural it felt. This burning, consuming, primal
radiance was as much a part of her as she was of it. She could not, would not,
fail in her duties, this time.
Words
of intent resonated across all levels of reality in a rhythmic chant. In
response, the aura undulated for several seconds and then swiftly swept
outward, enveloping the room in its awing radiance. In its wake were formed a
patterned series of angular lines, wedges, and small circles, splintering off
from multiple points in varying degrees across the walls, floor, columns, and
ceiling. Alphanumerics shaped into equations, their manifestation represented
her knowledge and understanding of the world and its relationship to places
seen and unseen. Through them, she sought to enact a feat never attempted in
the history of her people. It wouldn’t be nearly as dramatic as the battle
fought several hours ago, but, she reckoned, it might be told for ages to come.
The unconscious figure ignited in a
golden haze and began to levitate. The aura’s radiance steadily grew stronger
and brighter…
What the shaman had not imagined
were others like her—like them—hailing
from lands, known and unknown, drawn by their very nature to the conflict at
hand. The first among them was a stocky, fair-skinned warlord from the northern
expanse. Regardless of their stature, he tore through his foes with
unparalleled ease. From the bountiful domain of Grova-Ne
came the daughter of a famed metallurgist; the unassuming appearance belied the
ferocity behind her surprising prowess. A dark-skinned monk, swift and sure,
appeared from the Painted Lands, and from
the Mountain of the Hallowed Fathers came a high priestess of the sky goddess, Taias the Eternal. Together they worked to halt
the devastation from spreading any further, allowing her to face the greatest
challenge uninterrupted…
Words continued to pour from her
lips, the echoing chant swelling to a fever pitch, her glow surpassing the
brightest stars in the sky….
It was the
metallurgist’s daughter that had suggested this remote place, one of many the
fiery-haired female has visited in her wanderlust. For the raven-haired shaman,
the blistering cold would have been unbearable had she been unable to wrap the
warmth of her homeland around her like an invisible blanket. Still, it was very
far away from anyone or anything that could remotely disturb this moment… at
least directly…
The unconscious figure was enveloped
in an intense torrent of light as the shaman rounded the dais a final time, her
thoughts and words transcending time and
space. But in the ticks between the moments, as she bridged the whole of
reality, a cold breeze ushered its way into the room. Startled, the shaman’s gaze
flickered to the fluttering eyes of the unconscious figure; the land gently
quaking in response. Creation’s light dimmed as she felt numerous tugs; someone
was attempting to undo her ritual.
“I… I will not be… contained,” the
figured uttered softly.
“You… you must… for the sake of us
all… you must…” plead the shaman.
Dust fell from the ceiling as the quaking intensified. Mentally
melding with the land, she could feel old scars reviving, existing ones growing
larger, and new ones beginning to form. Breathing deeply, she steeled herself
and resumed the chant, biting back the unrelenting pain beginning to course
through her veins. Primal energies returned in full force, their sheer
intensity slowly engulfing and transforming her body to ash. Gradually becoming
little more than a living consciousness, she ignored the overwhelming pain and
focused unwaveringly on her task. Pooling her titanic strength into a singular
purpose, the honey-eyed shaman lifted her eyes to the unseen heavens and
surrendered herself to creation’s glory.
“I’m so sorry…” she whispered.
Everything went cold… dark… quiet…
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