Greetings from Novel-Land

(This is the next part of my NaNovel that I’ve been adding to every so often these past 10 days. Immediately follows the preceding post.)

They picked their way over rooftops and walls to where their horses lay in wait in the woods beyond the borders of the hall. Sprinting to their mounts, the two renegades lept into the saddle, dug their heels into their horse’s sides and made a swift getaway. As soon as they made their way to the main road, the race was on. Gideon and Jaster tore through the night like the Hunters themselves were at their heels. They drove their poor horses until froth came from their nostrils and their eyes rolled with wild exhaustion.

In the small hours of the morning, they sped past the border of the capitol province and entered a small village. Coming to an inn maintained by a friend of a friend, Gideon and Jaster trotted up to the stables and traded their stallions for the finest, freshest horses there. And so they passed the night, galloping over leagues and exchanging their exhausted steeds for fresh mounts when necessary, dropping a few gold pieces to smooth the difference when a groom was particularly attached to his steeds or doubtful of the quality of Gideon’s.

Dawn broke over the Western Wood. As they traveled northwards, the foliage became thicker as the dense woods gradually shifted from beech and aspen to fir and pines, whose close-knit branches interwove and held back the lightening sky. The thundering hooves along forest paths created a rhythm that went round and round in Jaster’s head until he knew neither time nor space, until all he had ever felt was the pounding beat and all he had ever seen was tree, tree, rock, tree, village, tree, stream, tree, new horse, tree.

Excerpt from my NaNovel….

I take my 300 where I can get them. The following not quite supposed to make sense outside the context of the novel. Nevertheless… behold.

—

Moonlight spilled through the shredded drapery, which fluttered softly in the autumnal breeze, casting long, wavering shadows across the floor and over the motionless figure of the king, like avaricious fingers attempting to pull the corpse into the black.

Gideon stifled a bitter curse and settled for a sigh of resignation as he pulled his hand from the rapidly-cooling body. They were too late.

“Blood and sand; if that idiot had just listened, he’d be alive right now!” Jaster growled quietly.

“There’s nothing we can do here now. The counter-revolution must learn of this immediately if they’re going to react in time to prevent all-out war.” Gideon replied in a low, steady voice.

Jaster nodded. “Shall I arrange a messenger?”

“No. News of this nature demands a more personal touch. I think it’s time for the counter-revolutionaries to meet their benefactor, don’t you?” Something faint and warm reflected in his tone as Gideon stood and strode to the window, examining the ledge outside. It was no more than two hands in width and was slightly longer than the window was wide. However, the hall was as old as the kingdom itself and built of stones that had weathered the ravages of nature and time itself. The gaps between the stones were enough to form rough handholds… if the climber in question feared neither heights nor unfamiliar surface and could make a vertical descent of four stories in the dark. If, for example, they happened to have earned their living scaling masts and climbing ratlines sailing for the Pirate King.