Woodrow, Sam, visit a church. Excerpt from my fantasy novel. Current word count: 18,864

 

At the end of the hallway, Woodrow took a left turn and found a door leading into the church's sanctuary. A terrible odor emanated from the mustiness and darkness within the confines of the building. As Woodrow entered the sanctuary, he had to cover his mouth and nose to repel the suffocating smell. The odors of rotting damp wood mingled with the grotesque scent of greasy burnt ashes. The stained windows provided no light, having been covered by wooden sheets of plywood. The only light came from the hallway and the open door through which Woodrow had taken a few steps; total darkness beyond the first row of pews ten feet away.

Woodrow reached out his right hand and found the wall of the sanctuary. The wall framed an aisle, which ran the length of the sanctuary to the front of the church. He felt his way down the aisle in the darkness. His right hand palmed the wall as his feet shuffled and caressed the floor one step at a time. 

After walking about ten feet, he tripped over a body.

 

###

 

Sam stepped out of the van and walked to the double doors at the entryway to the church. She tugged at the door handles, but they were obviously locked. She listened for any sounds coming from inside. Did she hear her father? He told her to wait at the front door while he entered the church from the back. Where was he? 

She checked the windows on both sides of the doors, but they were boarded up. She heard nothing but the cracking noise from the van's engine as it cooled down in the morning breeze. She noticed cobwebs in the upper corners of the small portico encasing the entryway, smiling at the faux sculpted columns holding up the roof. The doors needed paint and the concrete flooring leading to them was cracked in various places. In other words, the church was a typically old and aging Baptist church. Sam had seen many such churches in Texas, so she wasn't that shocked to see such disrepair. 

She walked around the left corner of the church but stopped when she heard the front doors of the church begin to open behind her. 

"Sam?" Woodrow asked loudly. "Where are you?"

"I'm here."

Woodrow stepped out into the portico and closed the front doors behind him. 

"We need to leave," he said.

"Why?" Sam asked. "Did you find anything inside?"

Woodrow walked quickly to the van and sat in the passenger's side. He looked straight ahead through the windshield, saying nothing.

"Dad?" Sam said, walking toward the van. "What's wrong?"

"Let's just go," Woodrow said. "There's nothing here. We need to put some distance between us and this God-forsaken town."

Sam got into the van and looked at her father. She knew he was upset but didn't press him. She started the engine and slowly pulled away from the church. She turned right on the street heading south and quietly drove out of town. 

Ghelfunn Having Fun with Margon, Not. Word count: 15,366

 

"Beat me if you must," said Ghelfunn, "but I have never heard about the book you seek. Perhaps he left it in the palace. He had a very nice library there." Ghelfunn spit blood on the floor, making sure he still had all of his teeth.

"I'm out of time," Margon said. "Either tell me where it is or I'm going to let you taste some of the Nprudi's famous poison." Margon motioned to one of his men, who then promptly brought forward a Nprudi spear, most assuredly one with a poisonous tip.

"Ghelfunn," Margon bent down to speak softly to this captive. "All I must do is scratch you with the tip of this spear and you are gone. Understand? Within a few heartbeats you will cease to exist. All I want is a location. Tell me what I want to know, and I'll leave you here, alive. Once the king is found dead, everything will change. It will be too late for you to do anything about it.

Ghelfunn looked up. He took a moment to consider his options. They were few. He could tell the truth and probably die. He was now certain that Margon was serious, running out of time, and would not hesitate to kill him. It became clear to him in that moment. Facing death strips away all pretense and grips the mind, making survival the only goal. Ghelfunn knew what to do--make up a story, tell a lie, stall for time.

"Okay," Ghelfunn said. "The book you seek is in the Sovereign's private sanctuary, a place no one knows about. He gave me the location after promoting me to lead his private guard. He said it was to remain a secret until he was dead. Then, he said, depending on the situation, I could divulge it's whereabouts." Ghelfunn winced in pain, gasping for air as if he was about to pass out. This was part an act, to make Margon believe his sincerity.

"Well then, out with it," Margon said. "I have wasted enough time dealing with you. Where is it?"

"It's in the Colla-Ti." 

Margon motioned for the two footmen behind Ghelfunn to raise him up. After a brief struggle, Ghelfunn returned to his knees, facing Margon.

"The Colla-Ti?" Margon grinned. "You must be lying. That's a two-day ride from here. It's nothing but ragged cliffs and mountainous trails that only goats can navigate. Why there?"

"The Sovereign discovered a cave there," Ghelfunn said. "He was just a kid, climbing around like a goat, I guess. The cave became his private place, a place he could go and escape the demands of being a kid, and later, a Sovereign."

"Draw me a map," Margon ordered.

Woodrow Orenda Visits Fred's Diner (excerpt from The Second Son, first draft, a fantasy novel I'm writing)

 

Woodrow closed his eyes for just a moment. All was quiet in Fred's Diner and Gas Emporium. Sleep. Just a moment of peace. He could feel the blackness overtake him, and he saw swirls of light, sprinkles of color forming circles. I hope Samantha survives this. She's all I've got. I have nothing else. Why do I even try? His right hand slid off his lap and rested comfortably next to his right leg. His hand still had blood stains on it. So what? He'd wash his hands later. Within a few moments, Woodrow looked up and saw a tree outside the window. 

He stood up and looked around and found himself beneath a huge tree. Where the hell am I? Woodrow looked up and the limbs of an oak tree spread out above him. It's branches crookedly stuck out in all directions, spreading themselves outward from a huge trunk which must have been five feet wide. Green bushy leaves filled the air. Woodrow could smell the wood. The sun was bright, so bright Woodrow had to shield his eyes. It rode high in the sky. The heat. Where did the heat go? Coolness hit Woodrow in the face from a breeze coming from somewhere beyond the trees. He looked at the huge oak tree and couldn't decide what to do. I'm lost, he thought. 

To his right, Woodrow saw a narrow path through the trees. He walked down the path for a while but found the trees obstructed his view. He saw no open space anywhere. Just the path ahead, and the tree limbs climbing upward, causing ripples of shade and lines of light that crisscrossed the trail through the thickly green forest. He walked for hours, or so it seemed. He could find no way out of the trees. Amazingly, fatigue had not set in. He felt great. He had strength in his legs. He could go on for a while without pain. If only he knew where he was going. He thought of his childhood in the deep East Texas piney woods and how he could walk for hours without ever leaving the shade.

After a while, Woodrow finally saw an open area in front of him. A grassy plateau rolled out before him to the far horizon. As far as he could see, a field of gold, green, yellow and auburn colors saturated his point of view. To the left side of the scene, he saw glimpses of a river. The bluish green river water was flowing in a steady stream from right to left. He took a moment to consider his position. The sun appeared to be setting on the horizon in front of him as he entered the plateau, westward. The river to his left must be to the south, so north would be in the opposite direction of the river. The oak tree, where his journey began, must be eastward. Woodrow stood there for a moment and sighed.  It's confusing as hell. I'm all turned around. Which direction do I go? The river. Get to the river and follow it.

Woodrow walked for a very long time southward and the river continued to flow without noticing him. He should have reached it by now, but distances could be deceiving. He was determined, however, to reach the river before the sun set. He looked westward toward the horizon to his right and the cool blues of the coming darkness were beginning to appear high above. The sun itself glowed bright yellow as it began to sink behind the forested area beyond the golden and green plateau rolling west. If he continued walking southward, he should arrive at the river by sunset. His next move after that remained a question in the back of his mind. He didn't want to think about the future. Just live in the moment. He knew from experience that in times of crisis a person must live in the present, one step at a time. Get to the river. Then I'll decide what to do next.

            Woodrow approached the riverbed and stopped just before entering a group of trees. The grassy plateau stretched behind him leading back to the path which brought him here from the huge oak tree. His memory went as a far as that oak and no further. His life began at that tree. Why am I here? If I could just remember. He heard the river flowing just ahead and found a trail leading to it. The sun lowered its face toward the western horizon, dark shadows taking over the landscape in front of him. Down the trail he walked, one careful step at a time. The ground beneath him began to slope sharply toward the water and he almost slipped as he entered an open area at the riverbank. 

“Dad? Don’t cross the river.” A voice from behind whispered to him. “It’s too deep.”

“What? What was that?” Woodrow asked out loud, startled at the sound coming from the shadows. “Sam? Is that you.”

Woodrow turned his head toward the voice. His neck. Damn, it hurt. He reached up and rubbed his neck with his left hand.

“Dad, wake up,” the voice said quietly. “Your eggs are ready.”

Woodrow opened his eyes and saw Sam staring at him from the other side of the booth. His neck had a pain slicing through the back of his scalp like a sharp knife. His back hurt, too. He slowly sat up, his stiff body not cooperating. 

“Hey, Sam,” Woodrow said. “Guess I dozed off.” 

“I woke up in the van and you were gone,” Sam said. “I came to find you. Staying in that van by myself creeps me out.”

Fred was standing at the end of the table with a plate of food in his hands. He set the plate of eggs in front of Woodrow and walked back to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee.

Ghelfunn Skips School to Visit the Market in Nyssa

 

Ghelfunn did not want to see Stoyvit, not today. He was going to miss school and didn't want to explain why. He never missed school. He'd never been sick. When his mother was sick with the Bideneria Dementia, he still attended to his studies. His father had insisted. 

"Ghelfunn!" Stoyvit yelled. "Wait up!"

"I'm in a hurry," Ghelfunn said. "I can't stop and talk. I'll see you at school, later."

"Later?" Stovit asked. "Why? Are you running an errand for your father? I'll go with you."

"No. I really want to be alone this morning." Ghelfunn was walking faster, hoping to get some distance between him and Stoyvit. "I need to do run an errand but must go alone."

"What do I tell the bookminders? They will ask," Stoyvit said.

Ghelfunn stopped cold, turned to his friend and said, "If you tell anyone you saw me--"

"Okay. I get it," Stoyvit said. "Don't let me stop you. Maybe I'll see you at lunch break." Stoyvit knew his friend was up to no good, but he was not going to push it.

Ghelfunn walked quickly down the street leading to the market at the center of town. Many villages in Caarynda had a market and Nyssa was no different. The market was the center of all local activity, especially if you had something to sell. Ghelfunn carried in his pouch a precious commodity which was worth a great deal, but his goal was not to sell it. He intended to trade it. 

The sun was up and Ghelfunn began to sweat. His heart beat like a Caarydian tribal drum. He tried to tell his heart to calm down, but his heart was not listening. Thump. Thump. Thump. The blood seeped into his ears and he could hear his heartbeat with each breath he took.  The sound of his anxiety rhythmically attuned itself to his breathing and each step he took added to the steady stream of fear which threatened to overcome him. I've got to control myself, he thought. I can handle it. I must. I have no choice. Father needs my help, and we can't lose our home.

The smells of fresh bread filled the air as Ghelfunn turned right, taking a major corridor leading to the town center. His father baked the best bread in town but never sold it. He wondered why Father considered selling bread a sin, an act unworthy of the Rhann clan. Rhann clan. What a joke. The Rhanns were mostly dead. Just Ghelfunn and his father were the only surviving limbs of what once was a large tribal tree with many branches. Eloy and Ghelfunn, the last two souls on telleran soil with Rhann blood flowing through their veins. Ghelfunn and his father shared something deeper than being a part of a clan. They were survivors. They relied on each other.