THE SIX SCALES
The Novel I have been writing for my project, The Six Scales, follows a brother and sister, who find themselves in strange other world. Titania, Queen of the Fae, tells them that she will send them back, if they can find for her the Scales of Power, lost centuries before. The Six Scales is about that journey and the ensuing events. Here are some examples of the writing:
They rested in the meadow of the lower slopes that night. Smoke twisted like ghosts from their campfire, and Jay imagined--or at least he hoped he imagined--tortured faces, there one second, gone the next, drifting up to the heavens.
The smell of smoke and heather created a sort of incense, rich and earthy but with a slightly cloying note, which lurked just at the edge of Jay’s awareness, like an echo of the smell of the bodies. There came a quiet music from Jay’s right. Darrow sang, and his voice seemed in harmony with all of nature, with the whistling wind and the rushing water and the whispering grass of the meadow.
The song was an elegy, a dirge for the dead. Darrow had no accompaniment, but none was necessary. His song played a somber counterpoint to the perfect music of the world around. Darrow’s voice lulled the world into hushed mourning, and soon Jay fell into a calm sleep.
-from The Six Scales
There was utter silence in the dungeon. Even the rasping breaths of Storm Fafnir’s son had finally stopped. “I know a rune,” said Sear. He cleared his throat, then started to whisper.
I know a rune, if need should come,
If I trace it in the dirt;
It blunts foes’ swords. And slays their lords
So nor their spears nor blades can hurt.
Shadows danced on the walls, cast from some unseen specter. He traced a second symbol. Perspiration beaded on his brow.
I know a rune, to halt an arrow’s flight.
If a shaft e’er flies to pierce my breast
It never can fly so fast
That I cannot stay it.
He drew a second rune, and shivered. It went on like this for almost an hour, Sear whispering a stanza, then drawing a rune. Each stanza was in a different mode, some rhyming, some not. The Song had many different authors, over many thousands of years.
As Sear recited the Song of Runes, his physical health seemed to rapidly degrade. His voice grew hoarse, and after each stanza of his chant, he would trace a symbol on the floor in blood.
With each rune traced, he looked worse. He had gone pale as a sheet, chills racked his body, and cold sweat dripped down his face.
I know a rune that if I see,
a swinging corpse in Tyburn Tree,
I can so carve and trace the runes,
that the dead man talks
And walks with me.
He nearly shrieked the last line. His hair stood on end. Blood burst from both his nostrils and poured down his face. He drew the last rune on the ground. The dancing shadows disappeared.
-From The Six Scales