2025 Z : Zealot #mfrwhooks

     

In the challenge, "Z" is for zealot. For the purposes of the post, the definition of a zealot is a person who is fanatical and uncompromising in pursuit of their religious, political, or other ideals.

A zealot has appeared in the fantasy worlds of the Windmaster Novels and of the dragshi. The brethren in Imprisoned in Stone was a fanatical cult determined to rule the world by any means possible. Blood sacrifices, curses and dark magic were their primary tools. Anyone with even a hint of power was forced to submit the Brethren's rule or be killed. In Dylan's case, for healing without payment in disobedience of the brethren's rules, his soul was imprisoned in stone.

The dragshi had their own zealotry to deal with for not everyone appreciated the rule of the dragon lords. Those without a dragon soul twin hated those who did. Not just because the dragshi had power, wealth, and respect, but because they were different. One such group was Groslom and his descendants. The tale of one descendent, Pyrell, is told in the novella "Forever Bound" in First Change. 

In Windmaster, a cult of clerics determined to rid the world of magic were not going to stop with the deaths of anyone who had even a hint of magic. It didn't matter if they were innocent and had no magic themselves, the friends and families of a wizard were also marked for death. The clerics planned to raze any place associated with a mage.

The following excerpt from Windmaster illustrates the depth of their hatred. To set the scene, Ellspeth arrives on horseback at her ship to find her way blocked and  stopped her horse in the shadows of the alley’s entrance. From her height she could see a squad of mercenaries gathered at the water’s edge. Craning her neck, she saw a row of  armed men in the guild colors of the House of Cszabo filling the dock. Several squads of mercenaries stood at ease in the patches of shade around the edges of the square. Nearest to her, a dozen unaffiliated sailors blocked the entrance to the alley. Even worse, a ranking member of her house council stood on the dock. And his companion? A cleric of the Oracle of Givneh.

Captain Ellspeth,” her kinsman dismissed her with a wave of his hand, “by order of the House of Cszabo I am taking command of Sea Falcon.”

“Falcon is my ship. If it goes anywhere, I will be at the helm.”

 “Enough of this.” Another’s imperious voice broke in.

Ellspeth shifted her focus to locate the speaker and settled her gaze on the face beneath the brown cowl.

“That ship needs to be purified. It is tainted by magic.”

“You want to take my ship because I gave passage to a wizard?”

“It is tainted. It will be purified... as will the crew.” Each word spit out, the tone demanded immediate, unconditional obedience.

Without looking Ellspeth could sense her crew preparing for battle behind her. Her own sword’s weight felt comforting across her thighs.

Read Windmaster to see if Sea Falcon sets sail and who would be at her helm. 

I hope you enjoyed the challenge posts. ~till next time, Helen  

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2025 V : Vigil

    

V is always a hard word for the challenge, right up there with Q and Z. In the challenge, "V" is for Vigil. If you have followed me for a while you might remember that I have said on numerous occasions that some of my most productive writing has been at two in the morning while in a bedside vigil. Instead of recounting any of my bedside vigils, I thought I would share some of the dark days and nights that those who inhabit the worlds of windmaster and the draghsi have spent.

Ellspeth looked down at Dal. The stubble of a beard covered his usually clean-shaven jaw. He’s not much over thirty turns, she mused. That’s only a turn older than me. The realization forced her to look at him anew. His features, peaceful in repose, seemed a sharp contrast to the turbulence of her thoughts. She searched for the cause of her agitation. The Sea Falcon had been put back to rights. The damage, although severe, was rapidly being corrected. None of the crewman washed overboard had died, thanks to the safety lines. The ship’s cat was the only casualty. Her eyes strayed to her sleeping charge, and the unwelcome connection she felt to the man.

She was captain of the Sea Falcon. She’d worked too hard to earn it. There will be repercussions, an insistent inner voice warned. Dal is not only a powerful wizard and friend of the King. He saved your ship. That last thought resonated with her sense of duty and honor.

Ellspeth bowed her head. For several moments she prayed to the water gods worshipped by most of her crew. In the tradition of the Mtwan Mountains she added, “Ancestors preserve your descendent, Dal.Guard him in this world. 

“Return, Dal. Return to this world,” she whispered. Then, laying a hand on his shoulder she added, “Return to me!” 

Her eyes rose from her meditation to meet his.

~till next time, Helen 

 

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2025 R : Rivers

     

Next in the challenge is R for rivers. The inspiration for the post comes from my writing life. Although too many of my works have been created in hospital rooms and doctors’ offices, my favorite places to write were outdoors under the blue skies, especially in the serenity of a waterfront perch.

Rivers and coastlines have also crept into the fantasy worlds I love to visit. The Delwaree River in the Dragshi Chronicles paid homage to the Delaware River that I grew up near. And in later years, that I bicycled the canal tow path alongside the river.

Delaware River Bridge, Frenchtown NJ

 

Rivers play an important part in the Windmaster Novels. In Windmaster Legacy, Dal and Ellspeth and their party are stranded on one side of a raging river. Even though they admitted the height and ferocity of the current was not usual, the ferry boat captains have agreed to make one trip across. Here is the start of the crossing.

A spot on the pier with shelter from the spray provided a clear view not only of the Ilar, but also of the ferry and the waiting passengers and fàlaire. Dal placed Ellspeth on his left. Her presence provided a reassurance he was not yet used to, but treasured anyway. Barris stood on Dal’s right side. The boy radiated such tension Dal fought down a smile at the youth’s determination. Murdo, standing at the ferry, held a bright orange scarf above his head. After a quick glance at his wife and apprentice, Dal returned his gaze to the fluttering signal flag. Wind whipped his lowered voice out into the distance.

“Air unsettled now be calm,
White capped waves be still.
High mountain storms and rain to cease,
Currents slow and floods to ease.

Selah so mote it be.”

Ellspeth’s soft tone joined Dal’s on the second chorus. His promise token warmed in response to her magic and dispelled the early morn’s chill. Barris’s light tenor came in. Dal noted with half his attention how Barris carefully enunciated the spell. By the second repetition of the incantation, the wind no longer blew in fury. The scarf in Murdo’s hand hung limp in the now-calm air.

You will have to read Windmaster Legacy for the rest of the journey.

In recognition of these precious places, a photo array from lakes and rivers I have sat beside.

Raritan Bay, note lower Manhattan on the horizon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reelfoot Lake, Tennessee

Crescent Lake,Pennsylvania

~ I hope you enjoyed this excursion into my writing life. till next time, Helen 

 

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2025 J : Jon or John

  

Next in the challenge is "J" for Jon. Or is is John? The similar names appear in different worlds. The name "John," which ultimately derives from the Hebrew name "Yohanan" meaning "God is gracious." "Jon" is a short form of the name.

Jon appears in Windmaster as the cabin boy on Sea Falcon. Although sold by his mother into service to the House of Cszabo, he was loyal to the ship and crew. Especially to its Captain Ellspeth who he thought of as an older sister. This loyalty resulted in the following snippet.

From Windmaster:

Dal stood silent while Ellspeth considered the offer. At her nod, they joined the crew gathered around the sail-wrapped body. Deep breaths, Ellspeth told herself. The crew must not see your pain. Jon honored his house... and you.

Dal’s somber rendition of the words of final journey seemed far away. She hardly noticed when four crewmen took the wizard’s place at the opening in the rail. Her fingers moved of their own volition to send the flute’s haunting refrain over the water. On the dirge’s final note, the crew tilted the board. A solitary ripple marred the surface of the lake when the body dropped into its dark depths.

You've read the price of Jon's loyalty. Read Windmaster to see his actions. As an additional note, Ellsworth used the name Jon when she disguised herself as a male.

As far as John? The name is borne by several family members through the generations. Its use was not set in a fantasy world, but a science fiction tale near of the future. Passengers on tomorrow's trans-continental orbiter discover what can happen when humans abdicate control. When the artificial intelligence pilot changes the flight schedule, one passenger, a holdover from an earlier time in aviation, shows the resilience of human spirit as he overcomes the errant technology to save the doomed flight.

From "Live or Surrender to Technology" in Hearth and Sand: Stories From The Front Lines and the Homefront.

The aircraft reached cruising altitude and the last of Chippi’s strength deserted him. After a final pull on his seat belt, he dropped off into a sleep that was neither restful nor deep. From a habit born of years in the cockpit, one part of his mind retained an awareness of his surroundings. The bustle of flight attendants taking food orders and dispensing drinks served as a connection to the life around him. The plane’s tilt as it entered a steep bank pulled Chippi to alertness. With flights now computer controlled to avoid weather fronts, he knew the steep turn indicated a major problem. Before he could summon an attendant, a computer voice, one almost indistinguishable from a true human’s, came over the aircraft’s message system. “Good afternoon. This is the Captain speaking. Due to inclement weather, there will be a delay in landing. The seatbelt light will remain on until the weather clears.” Chippi looked out the window. However, instead of storm clouds, he was greeted by a clear blue sky. The view below disturbed him even more. This isn’t right, he thought. The NorPac dike follows the coastline from MexCal to Puget Sound. It should be just off our starboard wing. But the massive structure that held the Pacific Ocean at bay and served as the foundation for the desalination plants was not visible from either side of the craft. Only a vast unbroken expanse of water appeared in the viewports.

A several hundred-foot plummet tossed a flight attendant into the empty seat across from Chippi. Moments later a steep climb careened a passenger into her, turning the pair into a tangle of arms and legs. With each violent movement, passengers who weren’t buckled in were tossed about the cabin like leaves in a tornado. The lock on an overhead compartment, stressed beyond its limits, snapped. Briefcases, portable video projectors, and other sundry items flew out of the storage compartments and pelted passengers.

Shrieks from those so attacked added to the pandemonium. In the midst of the chaos, the computer pilot’s cheerful voice again greeted the passengers. “Good afternoon. This is the Captain. Due to inclement weather, there will be a delay in landing. The seatbelt light will remain on until the weather clears.” Chippi, who had seen airplanes go from human pilots to human-supervised computer pilots and eventually to artificial-intelligence systems knew the movements were not a normal reaction to the weather. The meteorological advances of the last fifty years, now allowed experts to dampen the more severe weather interactions of the uppermost air currents. As a result, air travel was safer than at any time since Charles Lindbergh made his historic flight across the Atlantic Ocean. “It’s finally happened,” he muttered. “One of those darned computers finally broke. We always said people should have stayed in the cockpit.”

Two Johns and an early me

A later image of the John  (aka Dad) who was the inspiration for John Chippi in “From "Live or Surrender to Technology" in Hearth and Sand: Stories From The Front Lines and the Homefront.

~I hope you enjoyed these thoughts on Jon /John. till next time,Helen

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2025 I : Islands

Next in the challenge is "I" for Islands. Fantasy worlds can contain multiple lands of various geographies. Continents might be more common as they constitute a greater land mass. However islands can help create a more varied world especially if there is a sailing industry.

Semelen, old friend of the archmage, lived on a volcanic island in the Southern Sea. One of its notable features is the kapuna tree, the heritage of all mages.

From Windmaster.

Something shimmered at the end of a branch. The leaf’s vein was a vibrant pure red. Instead of the stillness of the other leaves, this one pulsed. Even before he spotted the rune that symbolized his own name, Dal realized the leaf’s rhythm was that of his own heartbeat. The leaf marked his lifeline.

At the end of the branch, a leaf without a symbol also vibrated. He ran a finger along of its main vein. Despite the feather-light touch, a shock numbed his arm. Ellspeth’s face appeared then faded, leaving behind only an undefined yearning.

The flicker of the adjacent leaf was noticeably slower, and with each passing second, the color turned darker and darker. Its small veins had already shifted into deep red. Dal knew without even looking that the name marked on the leaf was Semelen’s.

Semelen’s hand felt warm on Dal’s shoulder, despite the coolness of the glade. “It was not your fault, my friend, that you were away when it happened. The poison spread so quickly not even the most skilled healers among us could have saved those on the island. We’re just fortunate you survived to carry on the work... and to rebuild the council.”

Dal wrenched away from the intended comfort. “There is no council anymore. Everyone is dead. I built the pyres myself.” His voice grew quieter with each word, until it was almost a whisper.

Semelen spun Dal around, his grip firm despite his impending death. “No. You always were the strongest of us all. If not, you would never have been made Archmage. You have Voan and Jesmen to help. In time, there will be others.”

“It took five score of us to make a school.”

The old islander gestured to the tree behind them. “Your strength is that of the kapuna—the strength of all who have gone before. You still have access to the books of knowledge. They date back to when Belrum came out of the desert and settled on the island. The council has to be rebuilt. The prophecy has begun. You know the beginning is cast. Only the ending remains shrouded.” Semelen moved closer. Although the old man’s face remained expressionless, Dal heard the urgency roughen the other’s words. “Mages will have magic, whether good or bad.”

~till next time, time, Helen 

 

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2025 G : Guilds

   

Next in the challenge is "G" for guilds. At its core, a guild is an association of artisans and tradesmen who oversee the practice of their craft. Groups can also be restricted by region.

The Ceoltier Guild in the dragshi chronicles is the training and governance body for those who would be teachers, historians, and arbiters of Justice. Like medieval guilds, their ranks were apprentice, journeymen, and masters. Brown cloaks with green lining marked their rank. Different shades indicated apprentice (light green color of new hay); journeyman (alpine meadow in summer); master (dark green color of jewels from the western mountains). No one will attack or physically harm a guild member. They would find themselves ostracized, with nowhere to hide, or the victim of sarcastic tunes people can't get out of their minds.

There was also a non-traditional level called a special. These were students that were not part of the guild. As such, they would have no road, no journeying. And even more important, did not have to be male. Anastasia as well as both male and female dragshi lords received training at the Ceoltier Hall as special students.

~till next time, Helen 

 

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2025 F : Freedom

   

Next in the challenge is "F" for Freedom. To illustrate both freedom and the opposite, being imprisoned, snippits from Windmaster Legend.

To set the stage, Leod has been placed under house arrest for bringing a weapon into a joint celebration of the trading houses. Even worse, he attempted to assault a member of his house and threatened a senior member of another trading house. Adding to the humiliation, Leod considered himself a future leader of his guild council and perpetually used his family's power and influence to get whatever he wanted. The excerpt concludes with what will be at least a temporary freedom.

From Windmaster Legend:

For the fifth time that day, Leod paced the exterior wall of the compound. It had taken a handful of silver to purchase his release from ship arrest. But the transfer to the main compound had not turned into the freedom he had envisioned. He had only traded one cell for another. Unlike the guards who kept the docks secure and who for a few coppers would look the other way for a candlemark or two, those at the main compound could not be bribed nor tricked.

The guards finally relaxed the house arrest to allow him into the rest of the compound. This freedom allowed more than fresh air and sunshine. It meant he had access to the outside world. “And apprentices to obey their superiors,” he laughed. “Now if that darned first-year boy would learn to return with my meal in a timely manner.”

A flash of color showed the youth returning. He had a bag in one hand and a sheaf of paper in the other. “Sorry for the delay, master. Fifth of the council caught me returning from your errand.”

“Follow me,” Leod ordered. He took a seat on a bench beneath a shade tree. “Give me my meal, then report.” “Fifth wants you to go to the lumberyard.” The boy waved the papers. “Here’s the list of items you are supposed to pick up and deliver to the ships as marked. The wagon will be here shortly. The horses were just being hitched up when I passed the barn.”

Unlike Leod who deserved the restriction of his freedom, the following excerpt deals with Iol, captain of Loch Bird ... and as far as Leod was concerned, the reason for all his problems. It was Iol who got his own command when Leod was given a garbage scow. Even worse, Pelra, the one woman who Leod couldn't charm, bully, or conquer, chose Iol as her mate.

The wick in the thin slab of wax tilted. The last spark flickered out, plunging the room into complete darkness. Curses learned at the wharves escaped Iol’s tight lips. If the guards had provided a full-size candle it would have lasted most of the day. However, they only stuck a short stub in the high sconce. “More of Leod’s machinations,” he growled. “That one has much to pay for.”

While the barred windows and locked doors of the storage building usually sufficed to incarcerate sailors who had committed some infraction or imbibed too much on shore leave, the council had decreed different arrangements for Iol. His prison was a windowless, ten-foot square room in the back of the barn. Even shallow breaths reminded him of the previous occupants—recalcitrant stallions sequestered before gelding.

The fragile hope that Faeld would be able to gather support to overturn the verdict vanished before the first cold meal. Whispers the guards meant for him to hear made it clear the councilman’s hold on his position as Third Seat was tenuous. No release would be coming from that direction. “Nor from the Bard Guild,” he growled. A message sneaked in from Conall stated their petitions were rejected. In fact, only his rank and the fact he had four senior journeymen with him, prevented the master from a physical assault.

Darkness of the soul—as well as that of the body—surrounded Iol in a cocoon as tight as a coffin.

~till next time, Helen 

 

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2025 D : Disguise

 Next in the challenge is "D" for disguise. Disguises can be achieved in various ways. Trellier used magic in the Tear Stone Collectors to hide his dragon form. Unless he chose to reveal his true self, all anyone saw was tall, thin man, a scholar who was totally unskilled in the handling of weapons. In reality, his abilities wish a sword were impressive, more so when supplemented by dragon strength.

In Dragon Destiny, Anastasia donned the physical disguise of a teen-age boy so that she could attend the Ceoltier Guild. The disguise was necessary because only men could study there. Both masters and students knew Anastasia's true gender, but didn't care. Anastasia, or Stosh, her cover identity, was one of them.

From Windmaster,another type of disguise, misdirection both physical and mental.

Captain Ellspeth and Lord Dal are out of supplies. The storekeep couldn't get their order ready until morning and a decision had to be made whether to spend the night or continue on. The inn meant shelter for the night, a hot meal, and respite from the frantic run across the countryside. As part of their disguise, Dal dressed in the armor of his mercenary days, while Ellspeth wore the clothes and slave chain of his captured concubine. Dal's physical presence precluded any of the tavern's patrons from asking too many questions. Until the fanatic cleric who wanted to kill them strode into the room and arrogantly demanded to hire Dal. And have the services of his woman for the night.

In between sips of caffa, Ellspeth continued her inspection of the tavern’s other patrons. The sense of being stared at was overwhelming. Eyes seemed to claw at her clothes. She steeled herself to endure it. Despite the fact the low-cut blue dress she had changed into at their last meal break did not reveal much more than her usual garb of breeches and vest, she could not fight the feeling of being exposed. Her skin crawled at a sudden realization. As Dal’s slave, she could not refuse any man’s advances.

I hope Dal’s right, that no sane person would test the mercenary he appears to be.

But an armed drunk might, came the insidious answer from her fear.

Her eyes still downcast as appropriate to her station, Ellspeth opened her eyelids just enough to scrutinize the other occupants. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Danger! Instinct drew her eyes to the staircase on the far wall. There! He is the source. A cleric in the long brown robes of the Oracle of Givneh plodded down the steps into her line of vision. Ellspeth’s breath caught in her throat. He was the same man who had tried to take Sea Falcon—to kill her crew.

“Dal,” she hissed, “he’s the one from the dock.”

Ellspeth’s thoughts raced. If she stayed, the cleric would recognize her. If she tried to leave, it would bring his attention to her even faster.

Dal’s strong arms wrapped around her waist. Ellspeth’s squeal as he pulled her onto his lap pierced the buzz of conversation and bounced off the rafters. His strength rendered her struggles useless. One of the men with his arms around a disheveled woman called out encouragement. Before she could object, Dal’s mouth covered hers. His right hand held the back of her head in a steel grip. Before her lungs were depleted of air, he released her just enough to catch a breath. The whiff of oxygen helped clear Ellspeth’s mind—and focus her thoughts. The cleric couldn’t recognize her if he couldn’t see her face.

Ellspeth tightened her leg muscles so her weight was supported by the edge of the bench rather than Dal’s knees. His exhalation was warm on her neck when he whispered, “Good girl,” into her hair.

She entwined her fingers into his thick curls. A pull signaled her cooperation, and she threw herself into the deception. Three quick tugs loosened the laces of his shirt exposing his chest. With a shrug, she inched her gown further down her shoulders. The iron links of Dal’s vest were cold on her skin as her caresses moved down his back.

But Ellspeth's disguise was more than pretending to be a concubine. There was a persona, a projection of what the world expected to see. She didn't rely on her own skills, or those she learned from her mother. Dal's mother helped with the outfit and physical appearance.

Ellspeth calculated how fast she could draw her weapon. Eilidh had showed her how to pull the narrow dagger from its leg sheath. Ellspeth prayed the hilt of the blade would not catch on the seam since she had never actually used the slit hidden in a fold of the gown’s full skirt.

“Go way,” Dal growled, “off duty.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to? I am Gille Erim, Third Bishop of the Oracle.

“Don’ care. My orders are to disappear for a month. This woman is mine! Bought and paid for. And I plan on gittin’ what I paid for.”

The bishop’s indignant stutter broke off when the heavy trestle top clunked to the floor mere inches from his toes.

Ellspeth found herself hefted into the air in the same lithe movement Dal used to kick over the table. He rose and stepped around the obstruction. Fists pounded on tables and laughter resounded from the low ceiling as he draped her over his shoulder, her hair hanging down almost to the floor. Swift strides took him to the stairs. “Fearguis,” he yelled in a voice guaranteed to be heard above the clamor of a battlefield, “send our food upstairs.”

Ellspeth peered through tresses, now black at Eilidh’s suggestion, as they swung in time to Dal’s steps. What kind of woman is Dal’s mother? Not even my mother is as skilled in the arts of concealment and disguise.

I hope you enjoyed this visit to the world of Windmaster.

~till next time, Helen 

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2025 C : Caves and Caverns

   

Next in the challenge is "C" for Caves. One of the results of planning for this challenge, and from introspection with the new year, a realization crawled its way out of obscurity. Writers are often told to write what they know. Until I started looking for topics to match the A to Z, I had not realized how much of my personal experience had crept into the worlds of imagination I share with readers. An example is "Caves and Caverns." I had not realized how many caves and caverns I have toured over the years.

Image by Hans from Pixabay.

When dating my future husband, local spots such as the Lost River Caverns (Hellerstown, Pennsylvania) and Crystal Caves (Kutztown, Pennsylvania) provided a date destination. Later, we walked Howe Caverns (Howes Cave, New York) and rode a boat deep in the cave. Among our vacation destinations over the years was Lurray Caverns (Lurray, Virginia.) Although I did not know it at the time, these experiences leaked into the later written tale.

To set the stage of the excerpt, Lord Dal has ridden off to to divert an attacking force, leaving Ellspeth to find the magical talisman on her own. After fighting a carpet of living grass and the mental attacks of a rogue mage, she enters a hidden entrance in an ancient rock plateau.

From Windmaster:

The shadow of the talisman’s spirit separated from the wall. Without a break in her playing, Ellspeth bowed to the animated creature. It knelt on one knee in response, then with a kick of its heels, leaped back into the wall.

Ellspeth almost missed a note at the amazing sight, but managed to keep the song true. When she finished, she tucked the flute behind her belt. It only took four steps to reach the spot where the spirit disappeared. This time instead of hard rock, Ellspeth found the wall was not solid. A thin veneer curved from the middle of one wall to the opposite corner. Trusting the spirit to lead her, she circled behind the slab. The light from her torch cast an eerie reflection in the narrow space, but it showed her something more—a way deeper into the cave.

The floor’s slight downward slant provided a natural direction to follow. After a series of twisting turns, the last remnants of daylight trickling from the entrance disappeared. Soon the faint glow of torchlight became her sole illumination.

Deeper and deeper she walked, through chamber after chamber. In some, miniature versions of the spire rose from the floor, a trap to the unwary. A sense of unease aided by the weight of tons of earth on top of her grew stronger the further Ellspeth traveled. Each time a drop of cold water fell down from the ceiling onto her neck or some other spot of bare skin, she jumped. Her head ached from several whacks on low overhangs or one of the many plinths that hung down from the ceiling.

Time lost all meaning in the eternal shadows within the monolith.

~I hope you enjoyed this journey into my writing life (and the excerpt). till next time, Helen 

 

Buy Windmaster at Amazon and These sites.

If you're following other blogs in the challenge, here's the master list of the other participants.

 

2025 B : Blue Sky

   

"B” in the AtoZ Challenge is Blue Sky. Not the social media site, but my preferred writing locale…outdoors on a lakeside deck or a serene wooded glen. But not all outdoors time has blue skies as seen in the following excerpt from Windmaster.

“Something’s not right,” Ellspeth said. “The color of the sky is wrong. The masters on both barges agree.” Dal nodded to the bargemaster and his mate as he joined the group on the deck of the barge. Dal’s gaze scanned the horizon. The sky had leached all life from the river. Behind the barge, ranks of ever-darker clouds marched over the colorless waters.

Gusty winds picked up, driving not only their barge toward the shore, but also the boat carrying Barris, Murdo, and the fàlaire. Even without sails, the speed of the two barges increased. They rushed over rocks and bulled through eddies as the raging current overrode the crews’ efforts to steer their normally placid vessels. A sharp jolt beneath their feet threw Ellspeth into Dal. Only his quick grab of the rail prevented them from flying into the benches that filled the center of the barge.

Murdo’s bellow roared above the waves as light glinted off the drawn swords held by the dozen men who now lined the river’s bank. “Ambush!”

Check out Windmaster Legacy to see the result of the ambush.

In recognition of these precious places, a photo array of skies and sunsets.

Early morning, Blue Ridge Mountains

Sunset over Cliffwood Beach, New Jersey

Red sky at night, sailor's delight.
Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning.

Buy the Windmaster Novels at Amazon and These Sites

~till next time, Helen

P.S. My blueSky handle is @history2write.bsky.social. Follow me there if you wish.

If you're following other blogs in the challenge, here's the master list of the other participants.