Snippet Sunday December 8, 2013

Anwar and Daemon face off at the door to Anwar’s cell. Daemon’s certain that he has the upper hand, and he’s only too happy to oblige his queen in bringing her the prisoner.

Anwar eyed the threshold as the door creaked open. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to run, that it was now or never. But as Daemon’s massive hulk stepped through the frame, Anwar found himself retreating deeper into the cell. He had failed her yet again.

“Your presence is requested in the Great Hall,” Daemon sneered.

That he derived enjoyment from this exchange did not bode well for Anwar.

“I’m afraid that truly doesn’t fit in with my schedule. Perhaps another time?” Anwar bowed formally, but how his knees did knock. Could he hope to hide his cowardice for long?

Snippet Sunday – December 1, 2013

Anwar has been holed up in Hespa’s dungeon, but his confinement is nearing its end. And Daemon is only too happy to oblige the witch’s command.

“The rat’s returned to its nest, I see.” Daemon had obviously not lost any of his charms in Anwar’s absence.

Anwar cast a cursory glance behind him. “The accommodations are somewhat lacking,” he said.

“Next time, I’ll be sure to put out the welcome mat.”

Daemon’s face filled the window. A ghastly thing to behold, in Anwar’s opinion, and he recoiled at the sight of it.

“Oh, don’t go to any trouble on my account.”

“It’ll be my pleasure,” Daemon sneered. His focus shifted, and Anwar heard the jangling of keys.

Snippet Sunday – November 24, 2013

It won’t be long now. Anwar’s confinement is nearing its end. Why isn’t he happier about this?

A clang echoed in the outer chamber. Heavy footsteps entered the corridor above him. They walked as one, one footfall masking another. In all, Anwar counted five of them, a welcoming committee of Hespa’s design. He trained an eye on the barred window in the cell’s heavy door. The first flickers of a torch’s flame danced on the wall outside his cell, mocking him.

Five he had counted, yet only one had stepped into view – Daemon of Ahmnor. The glee on his face confirmed Anwar’s previous suspicions; Daemon had, indeed, awaited his return at the veil. No doubt he had anticipated the privilege of presenting Hespa with her prize. The fact that Anwar had returned alone must have highly disappointed him.

Snippet Sunday – November 17, 2013

When you find yourself at the mercy of a witch, it’s good to keep your humor in check . . .

It was rumored the witch had cells forged in the lower tunnels, reserved for traitors to the Crown, for those prisoners deserving of Hespa’s special attention. To find not only that those rumors were true, but that she now thought herself a queen? If not for his current predicament, Anwar might have found that amusing. It was almost more than he could bear.

Secured behind iron gates with armed guards – not to mention, a series of Hespa’s own enchantments – the sole viable escape route took the prisoner through the tainted waters of the U’rudhene. Only the most desperate would attempt such an escape.

His brow furrowed. To attempt such a thing would be madness, he thought, though he did enjoy a challenge. Perhaps Hespa had a sense of humor after all.

Snippet Sunday – November 10, 2013

The witch, Hespa, has had Anwar thrown into a dungeon known as the Tombs.  He’s cold. He’s alone. But does he have what it takes to survive?

Did he dare cross the witch with so much at stake? As quickly as the thought materialized, he dismissed it as folly. A man knew his limitations.

An icy chill coursed through his body. Anwar cast off his cloak. His numbed hands trembled as he attempted to warm his arms, his thighs. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, anything to keep his blood flowing.

Then he heard it. The U’rudhene. Its steady dripping into the cells, a constant reminder to the condemned that their fate rested solely in the hands of the witch.

Snippet Sunday – November 3, 2013

When last we saw Anwar, he had awakened in The Tombs, a dungeon the witch Hespa had specially forged for her prisoners.

He winced as his hand snaked toward a throbbing wound on the back of his head. It was wet with blood. Daemon must have awaited his return at the veil. Anwar doubted the oaf had acted on his own accord. His fealty belonged to the witch.

His eyes adjusted easily to the darkness – a necessity in his profession – though, to Anwar, one cell looked much the same as any other, with one exception. Hespa preferred floors of jagged stone to those of packed earth. Unshod feet assured a prisoner’s inability to steal surreptitiously away. Anwar wriggled his toes, tucked safely inside his scuffed boots. That meant only one thing. He still fit in her plans.

Snippet Sunday – October 27, 2013

And we arrive at the second chapter of Once Upon Nowhere:  The Tombs

A foul stench rose to his nostrils, filling his senses. Must. Sweat. Fear. The Tombs, they called it, and rightly so, for few men ever emerged from the dank recesses of Hespa’s dungeon. And those who did escape with their lives pleaded for death in the end.

Anwar shuddered against bone-chilling cold. His limp form, clad in the sodden cloak, sprawled across a stone floor. The length of his captivity up to that point remained a mystery.

Snippet Sunday – October 20, 2013

We join Tori and her mother at the window. Ayn was trying to reassure her that the figure below her window last night was just a trick of the storm.

Ayn reached over and played with a curl that had fallen in Tori’s face. “Even into full-grown men in cloaks.” She pecked Tori on the forehead before rushing to the door. “I’m sure it was nothing.”

But Tori thought she had detected caution in her voice. Like, perhaps, she suspected what her daughter had been saying was true.

Alone once more, Tori turned to the window, but only blue skies and drying puddles greeted her this morning, none of the menace that she had faced only hours before. “He was real,” she repeated, as if to set her mind at rest. “I know he was real.”

Snippet Sunday – October 13, 2013

The storm has ended. A new day arises. Tori hastens to the sill, but the man she glimpsed the night before has vanished. Perhaps it was as her mother said, just a dream. But what if it wasn’t? 

Ayn joined her at the sill, glancing over Tori’s shoulder at the promise of a new day. “There’s no one out there, sweetheart,”” she said.

“Well, no . . . not now.”

“And not last night either. Shadows twist themselves into all sorts of shapes during a storm.”

Tori wasn’t convinced. “Even into full-grown men?”

 “Even into full-grown men.”

“In cloaks?” Tori added.

The smile on her mother’s lips faltered. . .

Snippet Sunday – October 6, 2013

Continuing on with Once Upon Nowhere, I skipped ahead a few paragraphs for today’s snippet. Twelve-year-old Tori, already restless because of the storm, is now faced with something even more frightening. Surely, this can’t be good.

Breathless, Tori anticipated the next illumination, her forehead pressed to the cool glass. For a fleeting moment, night became day. She peered through a tangle of limbs to a patch of ground beneath her window.

That was the first time she saw him, his cloak so heavily drenched that it clung to his slight frame. He stared at the house, motionless, as though he were simply another stone statue in the city park.

The light failed. Tori’s legs were heavy with fear, her mouth bone dry. Her feeble attempt to call her mother ended in a croak. Still, Tori’s eyes remained fixed on the veiled figure below her window.