I found a picture of a dragon egg!

Or, the joy of finding a photo that matches a description in a fantasy story.

When I first wrote about the dragon eggs in Airthai – and more specifically at the start of “A Dragon’s Freedom”, I described them as looking like white quartz and the cliffs where the dragons’ nests are as having red sand…

The eggs looked like oblong pieces of milky quartz washed to smooth perfection by river water. Five of them lay in an indentation in the earth, baking in the sun. Around them a circle wide enough for the mother to land in was cleared. The nest itself was not much to look at, little more than loosely-packed soil and trampled brush. - "A Dragon's Freedom"; Cross and Cosmos Issue 5.

(For the rest of the story, click here.)

And then I came across this photo by Don Shearman – how awesome is that!

A Dragon Egg

A very warm thank you to Don for the use of this photo.

PS. I'll post the fiction piece I had planned for today tomorrow to keep the posts from getting too long. 

Inspiration Friday – “The Mewlips” by JRR Tolkien

For this Friday’s inspiration I’ve chosen one of JRR Tolkien’s poems; “The Mewlips”. I first read it in the Tolkien Reader and it forms part of The Adventures of Tom Bombadil. And there is a video where Tolkien reads the poem linked underneath the text of the poem!

Do you have any eerie or scary poems you love? Or perhaps a favourite monster? Have you created you own type of monster, perhaps? (During your worldbuilding, of course, not in your basement using some lightning rods and illegally harvested body parts.)

The Mewlips

The Shadows where the Mewlips dwell
Are dark and wet as ink,
And slow and softly rings their bell,
As in the slime you sink.

You sink into the slime, who dare
To knock upon their door,
While down the grinning gargoyles stare
And noisome waters pour.

Beside the rotting river-strand
The drooping willows weep,
And gloomily the gorcrows stand
Croaking in their sleep.

Over the Merlock Mountains a long and weary way,
In a mouldy valley where the trees are grey,
By a dark pool´s borders without wind or tide,
Moonless and sunless, the Mewlips hide.

The cellars where the Mewlips sit
Are deep and dank and cold
With single sickly candle lit;
And there they count their gold.

Their walls are wet, their ceilings drip;
Their feet upon the floor
Go softly with a squish-flap-flip,
As they sidle to the door.

They peep out slyly; through a crack
Their feeling fingers creep,
And when they’ve finished, in a sack
Your bones they take to keep.

Beyond the Merlock Mountains, a long and lonely road,
Through the spider-shadows and the marsh of Tode,
And through the wood of hanging trees and gallows-weed,
You go to find the Mewlips - and the Mewlips feed.

Here are some great artist renditions of the Mewlips:

You go to find the Mewlips...

... and the Mewlips feed.

Enjoy your weekend! 

And remember on Monday I'll post some new Airthai-fiction. 

Worldbuilding Wednesday – Maps before and after the Sundering

At last I’ve put some time to good use to draw proper (meaning neater and without so many notes) maps of Airthai before and after the Great Sundering. And there is even a third one I’ve drawn and is using as a starting point for the tales in the Seafolk’s lands. Where the first tale about Nasja played out in the Midlands and had him leave his home at a very young age, the cities and towns now need to be much more concrete.

The first map is of the world of Airthai before the Great Sundering. There is only one continent and a couple of the larger isles. The sea dragons of the south are sound asleep in the depths of the ocean and the darkness of a fall turns slowly from rumours to a reality.

The World of Airthai Before the Great Sundering

The second map shows the world after the Great Sundering. The continent has been split in two to form the Continent and the Sundered Lands. More isles are visible, but also the jutting rocks that make it impossible for the (current) ships to sail between the Southern and the Sundered Lands. The Dragon Guardians live on the southwest of the southern coast and sea dragons roam the new-formed Southern Sea.

The Continent and the Sundered Lands After the Great Sundering

I’m using the third map for two short stories at the moment and it is a closer look at the Dragon Cliffs, the homes of the Dragon Guardians, ruins of Dhôr and other cities and town along this stretch of coast. 

Here be dragons of both land and sea!

On Monday I'll have some new Airthai flash fiction ready. 

Until Friday,

A Agrai tellarias or s’agrélar silássa.

Fiction Monday: A piece from a WIP

Sometimes you write something perfect the first time – or, at least, as near to perfect as you can. Sometimes you just need to put it aside for a while before a rewrite. And sometimes you find out that the piece you’re working on will needs some more work; or have gone from light-hearted fun to something more sinister in a world you want to know more about. And then you realise you’re going to need some more rewrites before you’re completely happy with it. But this is the story so far…

Alenisse, the Wizard's Apprentice

(Being part 2 of Wizard and the Shadows)

Alenisse had followed the other refugees to the south, fleeing the northern lands wrecked with war. She had been stupid – waiting through all the rumours and never believing that war would truly come. And then it had been too late. The redeemer was not in the north and the wizards were left with no other choice but to flee to the south as well, following the Skadu'sdinge that spread from their Lord, bent on taking on all of the lands for themselves.

She nearly caught up with the wizard She'ne'ar in Dorburg, but found that he had left a day after arriving. He had been like a father to her, and, like her, could feel the tug of the Shadow and know the fear that clutched at your heart as a product of the Shadow. He was moving fast, following the Skadu'sdinge and she would follow him. Perhaps he had a rare gift and sensed the redeemer further south. She felt nothing until she had passed through Dorburg.

The tug on her mind led her into the valley with its various settlements. Terraced fields lay green and fresh and she could almost forget the stench of smoke and battle that had wrecked her home. The people on the farms took in some of the refugees – mostly those strong enough to work or old enough for their pity. She could not stop, no matter how tired she was. Not now. Not with the tug of the Shadow growing stronger. She was gaining.

She followed the road and the tug of the Shadow to a village and the end of the valley. Refugees huddled in the muddy streets, some begging for money, food or work. Some had enough money to rent a room in the inn and or afford a warm dinner. She made her way to the inn, fighting to keep back the tears from fatigue and the pain of her bruised and blistered feet. He would be waiting there, she surmised, waiting for a message or a sign.

She was still some way away when she saw the wizard coming from the inn and stumbling away from her. Her heart beat faster and she pushed the pain in her feet and body aside. With short, nervous strides she followed him through the village. When he spoke in the ancient tongue, she heard the words echo in her mind. The Fear started to grip her and then she, too, started speaking in the tongue, driving the Shadow away.

The wizard turned a corner and Alenisse had to run a few steps to keep up. As she turned into the next street, a blinding pain shot through her mind before pulling away. The Skadu'sdinge knew she was here, the thought flashed through her mind before another flash of pain pelted her. She sank to her knees, unable to fight the pain in her weakened state. Then, suddenly, the pain was gone. The Shadows had found other prey. She stumbled to her feet again. 

When she caught up with him, he was already fighting the Skadu'sdinge, his strong voice accompanied by swirling wind. Inside the house she could just make out the boy he was protecting. The people in the streets fled from the place, some making a sign against evil. Alenisse yearned to follow them, to obey the hammering of fear that begged her to get away from this place as far as she could. With her last resolve she urged her body forward to help her master. But then the old wizard's legs buckled and he fell, the wind dying even as his heartbeat slowed. Alenisse ran over, cursing herself for being such a coward. She knelt by the old wizard, the tears she had kept inside so long flowing free. She put her hand on his brow to try and calm him. To try and keep him with her. “Rus in vrede, my vriend. Hê rus op jou nuwe pad," she uttered between the tears, wishing the sound of her voice would let him notice her as well before he passed. But he only looked at the boy. The boy who did not even know the ancient tongue or why he had been chosen.

She wiped the tears from her eyes while fine ash fell all around them. He had destroyed the Skadu'sdinge plaguing the boy this night. And now she would take up the fight. She will have to be strong. The Shadow still spread its fear and she felt the incessant tug on her mind. She rose, turning in the direction of the tug.

A dark figure materialised from the shadows, in his hand a dagger of pure shadow. Alenisse swallowed. This one would not be driven away or destroyed by uttering a few words. She became still inside, pushing aside the fear that emanated from the Shadow being. In the silence she found the source of power inside of her. She reached out to the light and drew upon its energy. She lifted her hands, stepping between the Shadow being and the boy, telling him to stay behind her. The power she unleashed slammed into the Shadow being and he took a step back, ash falling from his chest. He laughed hollowly, turning his featureless head towards her. But he reached his fear and shadow past her to the boy. She hit him with another blow of power, this time targeting the faceless features turned to her. He howled, ash falling from the shadow-face. Alenisse smiled. There was some things the Shadow could not take from humans. She reached inside of her, gathering up as much light and power as she could.

"Na die verderf met jou," she said under her breath and released a flow of power. The power was this time lit with a blinding light. The Shadow tried to duck around the flow and stabbed with his shadow blade at Alenisse. He was able to cut her arm before the lights engulfed him. His pained howl was cut off abruptly. Ash rained to the ground.

Alenisse felt the peace of the power remain even though her power was all spent. She sank to the ash strewn ground just as her master before her.

The boy neared her, his face smeared with ash and tears. Alenisse reached up to her neck and took the orange stone set in silver, giving it to the boy. "Go south," she said, placing the stone in his palm. "The stone will lead you. You are the one, you are the saviour of our people." His face seemed to be lit by sunlight and she smiled even as her sight dimmed.

Wizard

Inspiration Friday: a haunting song by Koos du Plessis

One of the earliest songs I can recall hearing and seeing a music video for, was one of Koos du Plessis’ songs. Titled “Sprokie vir ’n stadskind”, or “Fairy tale for a city child”, it also formed part of various Afrikaans poetry lessons.  Much like his “Kinders van die wind” (Children of the wind), it is a beautiful and haunting piece with multiple layers of meaning. Of course, about twenty years later, the song’s meaning to me has grown and evolved, but I can still remember the whole family watching the bittersweet song on the television. Du Plessis made his own translation of the song – “The neon rainbow” – but I could not find it. So, I made my own translation. It is posted below the Afrikaans text, along with a video where the song is sung by Du Plessis.

Sprokie vir ‘n stadskind

                                                – Koos du Plessis

As die reën van stof en roet verby is,

en die rook verdwyn,

 sal daar in die sterrelose hemel,

’n neonboog verskyn.

En kyk maar goed,

want as jy hom vind,

vertel ek vir jou ’n sprokie, my kind,

van ’n skatkis met ou kettings gebind

aan die neonboog se punt.

Volg hom elke nag oor swart riviere,

 oor kranse van beton.

As jy aanhou stap vir tienduisend ure,

 sal jy dalk daar kom.

Maar hier moet jy jou nimmer laat bind,

want so lui die ou, ou sprokie, my kind,

as jy geluk en vrede wil vind,

soek die neonboog se punt.

Volg hom elke nag oor swart riviere,

kyk nie eenmaal om,

dalk vind jy die land

van blou saffiere

en, dalk, ’n brokkie son.

Fairy tale for a city child

When the rain of dust and soot has passed,

and the smoke disappears,

a neon rainbow will appear

in the starless sky.

And look well,

for if you find it

I’ll tell you a fairy tale, my child,

of a treasure chest bound with old chains

to the end of the neon rainbow.

Follow it every night across black rivers,

over cliffs of concrete.

If you keep on walking

for ten thousand hours

you may get there.

But here you must not let yourself be bound,

for so runs the old, old fairy tale, my child,

if you want to find happiness and peace;

find the end of the neon rainbow.

Follow it every night across black rivers,

do not look around once.

Maybe you’ll find the country

of blue sapphires

and, maybe, a small piece of the sun. 

Have a wonderful weekend!
A Agrai tellarias or s’agrélar silássa.

Worldbuilding Wednesday: The Wíslic and the Elders

Last week I had a look at the Houses of the Keepers of Airthai. This week I’ll tackle part of the hierarchy of the Keepers: the Wíslic and the Elders. The Keepers started on the eastern coast of the Continent, in the lands of the Saerímavolk; and it is with them that today’s post gets under way.

The Wíslic and Elders of the Saerímavolk

Because most of the men of the Saerímavolk towns would leave the land each day for the sea, one of the women of the town would be chosen to act as the leader of the town. She was well-skilled in various kinds of knowledge; including the laws of her people and the ways of healing. Called the Wíslic, she would see to it that the town is run well, disputes are settled and trading is fair.

Various others – usually older than forty – would be chosen to help her in her work and provide schooling for the children of the town. These people were called the Elders and consisted of both men and women. Because the men were ‘married to the sea’ they were mostly called upon in these matters, while the women handled the land disputes and matters. Some even referred to them as ‘Sea Elders’ and ‘Land Elders’.

The most gifted of the girls were tutored further and then, of these young women, seven were chosen. Later one of the seven would be chosen as Wíslic by the people of the town. Although the daughter of a Wíslic may also become a Wíslic, this was not a strict tradition and had to be earned.

The Wíslic and the Elders of the Keepers

The hierarchy of the Keepers worked in much the same way as that of the Saerímavolk, as the Keepers were modeled on this hierarchy when it was started.  The Wíslic of a House, however, could also be a man. The Wíslic was chosen from among the Healers and the Scholars most of the time.

The Elders of the Keepers were chosen because of their level of knowledge or skill. Although most were older in years, some had been given the rank at a young age. One of the most notable Elders was the scholar and scribe Nëane, a Ciph from Ellanda.  He was sixteen years old when he joined the Keepers and only twenty-one years old when made an Elder.

Ameragh was also very young and was made Wíslic of the House of Eamidtheo before her thirtieth birthday; making her the youngest Wíslic of a House of Keepers. 

"Ameragh was the youngest Wislic of a House of Keepers"

A short note about spring-cleaning

How do you like my new ‘blog look’? With Spring in the air (well, in the southern hemisphere), I decided that it was time for a new look. Then I found this lovely background at The Graphics Fairy and I thought it’s a good time to get into the new season even though Spring Day is only next week. 

A while ago I decided to post a blog post every day of the work week. Although fun to do, it has proved very difficult to keep up and have me blogging more than working on my WIPs, and my studies (very important at the moment and costing quite a bit every year). Also, I believe that I have almost lost focus of what I had set out to do – write stories. Therefore, I have decided to focus on three posts every week. These will focus primarily on fantasy and speculative fiction, worldbuilding and inspiration. Worldbuilding Wednesdays will remain, as will Fiction Mondays, including not only my own work, but also other snippets of writing advice, mythology or writers I find interesting. Ageless Words on Friday will also remain and be branched out to form Inspirational Friday.

Thanks for the patience while I find my feet in this digital world!