Disclaimer: so far I'm just sort of world-building and developing the prose I'm going to use. This is building up to something that I promise will be interesting (I've got such an epic idea in mind, with lots of suspense and action and maybe Sean Connery, if we're lucky)... this served more to test descriptions of things and people, trying out interactions, and introducing a very unlikable character at the end there. Also eking out basics with an invented language (getting some tenses down, idiomatic phrases, pronunciation, etc.). Trying to decide how I can shift perspectives. I'm still not sure how old Aelwys is. I'm going to write the scene I started at the end... later. I'm getting close to including my pride-and-glory creepy monster beings! So... bear with me. I tried not to make it dull! So... given that this is sort of a literary sandbox, please let me know what I should change/fix/emphasize/etc.! Now that break is on, I can finally get around to commenting on everyone else's stuff, too!!!!
Oh, and (I had to look this one up, so just in case y'all didn't know either) a caparison is the cloak-like coverings draped over medieval horses. They are used to keep the horses warmer in the really quite cold temperatures here...
Oh, and (I had to look this one up, so just in case y'all didn't know either) a caparison is the cloak-like coverings draped over medieval horses. They are used to keep the horses warmer in the really quite cold temperatures here...
The next morning was bitterly cold and icy outside the cave, the air so frigid and gusty it felt like a solid substance oppressing those unfortunate enough to be caught in it. Aelwys, however, awoke quite warm and dry inside the cavern, and saw to her astonishment the fire still burning, and the kindling Mother had placed there in the night seemed to be entirely unconsumed. Her nostrils filled with the smell of the fish stew in the kettle Mother was holding over the fire. Now that she felt rested, warm, and safe, an overwhelming hunger seemed to gnaw at her, as Mother had correctly guessed it would.
“We must empty this kettle,” said Mother, “Because I do not think we will be able to risk another fire until we arrive on the island.”
“How will we get there?” Aelwys asked, eagerly reaching for one of the vessels in Mother's bag to fill with stew, “And how far away is it?”
“The island itself is a few miles by sea,” she said, “But we must be careful not to be recognized in the port, for it is still within the chieftains' land. We will be safe only after we cast off. However, Winter is coming fast, and we shall have to find quarters on the island or else find the money for passage on a winter vessel. Now, eat; we must be make ready for the journey. We cannot travel any more by night, so we must prepare to travel by day.”
After the kettle had been cleaned and the fire put out, they set about disguising themselves. They had already come dressed in the rough woolen coats about the inner linen robes of the Veagars, and so Mother and Aelwys began to braid one another's hair into dreadlocks and darken their eyes after the manner of their cousin clan. They covered their heads in thick woolen shawls with beaded fringes, and donned hoods and cloaks of crimson-dyed skins to repel the rain, and after a minute or two basking in the warmth of the cave, they set out into the blasting wind and rain, which though drizzling only was made a hail by the gusts of wind.
Eking out their way through the warring wind, they followed an old dirt path through the seaside crags, weaving through and over the smoothed black stones that crowned the shoreline, broken incrementally by a wide beach. They were not the only travelers, they soon discovered, for they saw several signs of encampments in amongst other caves and rocks. Here and there a thick tent of skins squatted in the more sheltered nooks in the rocks, which yet formed smooth, black cliffs that towered overhead. They received short respites from the brunt of the weather when a pillar or a wall of rock blocked the eastern side, from whence came the sea-breeze, though such moments were so short-lived that Aelwys could little enjoy them. Truthfully, she thought, it would be better if the barrage of wind and rain were entirely unabated, rather than be given periodic false hopes of relief.
After a few hours' walking, very much to their relief, the rain abated entirely, though the cold, dry wind yet buffeting and shoving the two of them as they slung each stride ahead of the last. Aelwy's heavy mantle served to warm her chest and her back well enough, but her limbs soon grew weary with cold. The wind readily pierced the skirts of her garments, and it soon seemed that her legs could not carry her quickly enough toward the promise of warmth and rest. Distant yet seemed such a promise, she bemoaned to herself, though her mouth stayed shut fast. She knew she could not burden Mother's ears with her complaints, exhausted though she was. In the face of the numbing wind and frigid ground, however, she couldn't help but look anxiously to Mother.
Mother's face was set and determined. Unflinchingly she pressed forward, standing erect with a sort of defiant majesty. She seemed to convey a feeling of strength and endurance to Aelwys with her unflinching posture and tirelessness. Facing the buffeting winds and deafened by its gustling, Aelwys squinted her eyes and clenched her jaw resolutely. She would not be bested by the elements that beset them.
* * *
They first became alarmed when the din of approaching hoofbeats began to be audible above the wind and the distant crashing of waves. They turned to see, and their hearts sank as they beheld the three men riding on the backs of caparisoned horses, galloping towards them with great haste. In a few moments, they overtook and surrounded them. The men wore masks and cassocks, white and unemblazoned, as were the caparisons that hung like cloaks about their horses, easily identifying them as soldier-priests of royal employ. Their pale lances pointed skyward, flying the red herald of the chieftains' coat-of-arms. Aelwys' heart was pounding: someone must have told the chieftains of their flight. They had been caught.
One handed his lance to one of the others, and dismounted with an unruffled grace, as if he could not feel the blasting winds that dashed his cassock about his thin form. He politely removed his mask to address the two women, and the face he revealed seemed one of refined manners. As had become the fashion of the chieftains in recent years, his face was clean-shaven, all the better to see that it was pressed in an expression of seemingly permanent displeasure.
“Wynclaetyrch!” he said loudly to be heard over the wind. Aelwys was offended for a moment that he should greet them in the Veagars' tongue, and had half a mind to answer him in Common before she remembered that they had dressed as Veagars.
“Wyndaecht,” Mother quickly answered, “What brings two humble maidens to your attention today, sirs?”
