I think the Lit Halloween Contest is once again the reason that Barren Harvest keeps stalling on me. I have a scene in the middle of the story that’s a downer, which I put there because I thought it was too low of a note to end on with the contest in mind.
Now that it’s not an issue, I think that scene better belongs at the end. It gives the story more impact, and better fits with my original vision of the story. The regular readers of my world and the Arts Ardane probably won’t see the down scene as a bad thing, where the broader readership of the contest probably would have.
So, I’m going to shuffle the scenes around and see if I can’t get that one moving again.
Still to worn out from last night to think about something that big, though *laugh* Instead, I’m going to finally make those changes to the fourth chapter of Lowborn ( Mindblind ) and see if I can get jumping on Ch. 05.
The muscles in Cerebus’ bare chest rippled as he hefted the sack of grain into the wagon. The wagon groaned a little under the weight, but had proven its solidity with numerous round trips.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and walked toward the front of the wagon, where his employer was busy secreting a loaded crossbow beneath the seat. “That’s the last of ‘em.”
“Excellent. Excellent. Just one moment, and I will fetch your coin,” the rotund merchant responded after a start.
Cerebus’ voice had a quality that he’d heard described as sounding like an ominous whisper emerging at normal volume, and it quite often unnerved people. He more or less ignored the nervous twitter in the man’s voice, having grown quite accustomed to such reactions over the years. He was the product of a brutal rape by a warrior goblin, and he knew that his features were unsettling to most people. His size and strength alone made him stand out in a crowd, but his pointed ears and odd skin tone with hints of grayish-green marked him as someone unquestionably alien.
Yomen counted out his pay, and then took a deep breath. “I wonder if you might wish to earn some additional coin?”
Cerebus shrugged. “Depends on what I’ve got to do for it.”
“The reports of highwaymen along the road to Lakenshire have grown alarmingly frequent of late, and I fear to undertake the journey alone.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You want me to ride along?”
“I have seen you practice your swordplay, and you seem quite competent. I’m willing to offer double your usual pay, and your normal pay to help me unload when we arrive.”
And you can’t find another man who will risk the run for what you’re willing to pay. Only a desperate and green mercenary would take the pittance after hearing of the attacks along the road. Fortunately, he had a good reason to accept the opportunity. “I was headed into town today anyway. Let me go belt on my sword and pick up a few things from home, and you’ve got a deal.”
“Splendid. I wish to leave within the hour, in order to reach Lakenshire before nightfall.”
“Not a problem,” he responded as he turned to walk home, snatching up his shirt from a fencepost as he passed it.
The people crossing to the other side of the hard-pack dirt street barely registered in Cerebus’ mind as he walked. All of his thoughts were on the rare visit to the town, and the opportunity to finally earn a little coin with his sword. The short ride might not be much, but it was experience. If he could convince Yomen to speak to other merchants once it was over, he might find more work – perhaps even jaunts beyond the backwater villages and towns of the area.
He could see his sisters and mother through the wavy glass of the kitchen window, already at work on supper. He stayed out of view, and walked to his room at the back of the house, which he’d built with his own two hands to gain a measure of privacy and quiet. The family was used to him coming and going with little to no announcement, and he had no desire to worry his mother with the knowledge that he was going into town.
A loud thud sounded as he turned the corner – a familiar sound of late. As expected, he found his half-brother straightening after a throw of his mace. Though only twelve years old, Vladamir had already found favor with the local priest of Heraklan, and proved a devoted follower of the god.
“Ha! Take that, you ugly troll!” Vladamir declared, and then noticed his brother. “Did you see, Mindblind? The log cracked!”
Cerebus nodded his head, actually quite impressed that the mace had managed to do such damage. Once the boy filled out, he knew that anything – or anyone – in the path of that mace was in big trouble. “Good throw, Vlad.”
Vladamir hurried to the log to pick up his mace, as he had not yet mastered the devotion necessary to call upon his god to magically return it to his hand. “I told you that I’m going to come with you on an adventure some time, Mindblind.”
Though the nickname was meant as a cruel joke when his sister started it, Cerebus had actually liked the sound of it. He wasn’t bothered by having no magical ability, unlike the rest of the family, so it didn’t hit home as his sister would have hoped.
“Maybe someday,” he responded, though he hoped to have left long before to find his fortune by the time his younger brother was old enough to leave the novitiate of the priesthood.
“What you doing?”
“Headed into town. Don’t tell Mom. I don’t want her worrying.”
“I won’t. Can I come in?”
Mindblind shrugged and answered, “Yeah.” His brother was one of the few people he let inside, even though Vladamir could be a pain at times. Deep down, he liked the way his younger sibling admired him – a sharp contrast to the way most people treated him.
His room was utilitarian, meant for little more than sleeping and storing his things. The closest thing he possessed to decoration was the wooden frame where he hung his leather armor, shield, and sword.
“You’re going on an adventure,” Vladamir declared when he saw his brother pull down the armor.
“No, just into town. I’m riding with Yomen as a guard,” he argued as he pulled on the chest piece of his armor.
“It is too an adventure.”
“Okay, it’s an adventure, if that will make you happy.”
“You have to tell me all about it when you come home. You can’t leave out anything because you think it will give me nightmares.”
“All you’re going to get is a story about a bumpy wagon ride, but okay.”
A voice rang out from outside. “Vladamir!”
Cerebus cinched up the strap he was working on and nodded toward the door. “You’d better get going, or Mom’ll tan your hide.”
“You promised,” his brother reminded him, and then hurried out the door.
“Adventure,” he muttered, and then chuckled. Maybe once I get there and make it to the Cat.
That thought convinced him to finish strapping on his armor in a hurry.
