Now that I have abused your sensibilities with some Joe Schmoe rants, terrible style and all, I apologize for not updating for several months. I could cite ‘life happens’ as the reason, but really it was just that I had nothing to say. Moving on, here’s an excerpt from a story that went wrong in a hurry, so even though I like most of what is written past this point, it will probably be rewritten so it’s less grotty and more story that doesn’t end up dead-ending.
It was one of those situations when you know your writing is careening out of control, but just can’t help yourself, until you run into a dead end and put it down and walk away in self-defense until you’ve put enough time between you and it to be able to turn it into something usable.
This world is one of two worlds I’ve written in that were not originally my own, but a world concept gifted to me by a friend. In my notes, it is simply ‘The Demonwisp world’. Di’s name literally denotes him as the 4th born child, and thus not a citizen. Only the first two children of a citizen are citizens, but it’s considered ‘patriotic’ to have extra children to give to the government for the army and other purposes. Extra children are usually given ‘letter names’, a social attempt to be a bit nicer than calling them by numbers instead. Di didn’t qualify for the army, so he was sold to a private owner, instead.
Di Salas really hated being manhandled, but he supposed that it was better than being pushed and expected to find his way without tripping. He had no idea where he was, or who had him, for that matter. They stopped suddenly. Di wondered why, then a cold, very noble-accented voice stated, “You’re a traitor.”
So, his owner, Lord Pyoter Daralis had been found out. It was like a kick to the chest, but he didn’t let it show. He was a dead man now, but they couldn’t have his pride. Only that stupid traitor, Lord Daralis, held that power.
“Yes. What of it?”
The blindfold was removed and he blinked in the sudden light. The noble, a highly placed one from his clothing, looked familiar, but he couldn’t place why.
“Arrogant, aren’t you? Do you know who I am, little fire mage?”
“No. Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?”
The man chuckled and rose. Up close, Di suddenly noticed the man was taller than him. Not that that was hard. Di was only 5’9½”.
He lifted a hand to the slavemark on Di’s neck. “I am High Prince Balsam Kai Renalis Vitchenka Alric.” He said more, but it was in Ancient, the language used for spells, and Di didn’t understand most of it, because a buzzing arose in his ears. Then pain struck him so hard that he would have screamed himself hoarse if he could have drawn breath. It was like being turned inside out, like having the original spell laid on him and then twisted, but at the same time. Then it was over, and he was panting heavily, tears in his eyes.
“What-” He cleared his throat. “What did you do?”
The High Prince smiled at him. “All of these spellmarks have a clause that allows one of royal blood to override them and assume ownership. Unfortunately for you, when that happens, the partially enforced binding is converted to a master binding to prevent a second override.”