Weekend Writer's Retreat - 2

Here we are, the weekend already, and time for a second installment of my Scorpius tale. You'll be able to follow the whole story arc by clicking on my Works in Progress page, just under my blog header.

For more original fiction, visit Weekend Writer's Retreat.


Scene 2

In some ways the falconer’s home was not much different from the one Scorpius had left behind. Another form of nursery, its fledglings would serve the nobility.

His new master showed him where he would eat, where he would sleep, where he would wash up. Scorpius nodded as he would have nodded to Nurse, acutely aware of Richolf’s strength, of the scar that ran across the still face.

Richolf led him behind the house, a shy look of pride softening his features as they neared several long buildings. A dog loped up to the master who patted him absently.

Scorpius saw the hunched form of a hawk through a screen as it perched. Bells tingled from the shadows. The hawk screeched as the dog caught up to Scorpius and sniffed his hand insistently.

Richolf moved past him, opening the door to enter the bird’s domain. With smooth, assured movements, the falconer slipped a heavy leather gauntlet onto his left hand, holding it out until the bird stepped upon it. A few motions later, the hawk was secured to his master with long leather ties.

Scorpius followed Richolf past the line of buildings, each housing a single falcon. The dog pranced with growing excitement as they made their way to the meadow just beyond.

The master bid Scorpius to find a stick and hit the bushes framing the field. Scorpius couldn’t imagine why he should do such a thing. Nor could he imagine questioning the order of a man who calmly held a ferocious bird at his command. He ran to the tree line, scrambled about for a stick, then glanced back at Richolf.

His master stood watching him, watching with the same piercing gaze as the hawk. The dog half sat, half stood, ready to spring.

Scorpius turned back to the bushes, his skin crawling with shame that he didn’t know how to please this new master. He’d known everything that Nurse wanted or needed. He’d been able to anticipate what she’d want, so that she’d smile so sweetly at him. Sometimes she’d even kissed the top of his head, or scooped him onto her lap and gave him a squeeze, so that he’d melted into all her soft curves for a delicious instant.

Thwacking the stick against the leaves like a ridiculous, overgrown babe, Scorpius’ panic rose as he realized nothing whatsoever was happening. Richolf would be furious with him, he was sure of it.

Something flew directly at his face. His arms went up to shield himself as he turned away.

© Julia Smith, 2010

Janet says A wonderful cliffhanger. I'll be counting down the days until next Friday's instalment!!

Calico Crazy says I really feel for Scorpius as he adjusts to his new life, I always hate those moments when I'm forced to act without knowing the why or what comes next.

Ann (Bunnygirl) says Poor guy - given instructions without explanation. Nicely written. I'm looking forward to next week!

Weekend Writer's Retreat - 1

Welcome to my first post for the Weekend Writer's Retreat.

I noticed that my wonderful blog friend Susan mentioned this meme on her blog, and when I popped over to check it out, I discovered a few more blog friends hanging out over there, as well.

I can't resist the lure of a writer's retreat. And I've been enjoying some serialized flash fiction on several blogs, so I've decided to throw my own hat in the ring.

I'm not sure if my posts will qualify as flash fiction. Hopefully as I do more of them, they will. Flash fiction follows the requirements of a longer piece of fiction, containing conflict and resolution for the characters, however brief.

My pieces are going to be much more like vignettes, scenes that focus on an idea or an impression.

I've decided to begin this feature with my Scorpius character. He came to me during a real life writers' retreat a few years ago. I've got about a quarter of his story written so far.

Scorpius is the Chamberlain of the Keep for Lady Elysande in a world that combines a medieval-type slave-owning society with sophisticated technology and political intrigue. For my Weekend Writer's Retreat scene, I'm going back to Scorpius' boyhood. The stories I share here will be backstory, taking place well before the events of the novel I'm working on. Or will be working on - I'm currently working on my vampire story, and after that I'll be finishing my gardener story. And then I can get back to my Scorpius story.


Scene 1

The falconer strode silently ahead of him. Hurrying to keep pace, Scorpius kept sneaking looks back at the home he’d shared with the other fostered boys and girls until the road turned and there was nothing more to see.

His new master didn’t bother to check to see if he was being followed. For one long moment, Scorpus stood in the road, unwilling to leave his hopes behind.

The distance stretched between himself and the falconer. All the moments when he’d shrugged away from Nurse’s embrace, wished for quiet when the babies shrieked, or when he’d sighed with boredom during chores came rushing back. He’d take it all again gladly if only he didn’t have to go with this man.

He gazed with longing at the turn that concealed the high stone wall and the manor where he’d grown to boyhood. Glancing ahead of him, the empty road cautioned speed, speed.

He could run.

He could run off into the wilds. The scraggly brush could conceal him. The rough boulders could cradle him.

Scorpius listened, but he couldn’t even hear the footsteps of the falconer against the gravelly road. Gaze roaming over the landscape, Scorpius felt the patient breath of unseen predators upon his neck. Just daring to glance up, he saw clouds and sky but no shadow marring the blue.

He knew what it felt like to see that dwarfing wingspan, to scramble for cover only to see his dear friend disappear in a screech of flame. His chest seized horribly with dread.

Scorpius ran, sickly sweat congealing along his spine. He ran till the sight of the scarred man ahead of him made his heart swell with relief. He caught up, his breath loud and ragged in the late morning air. Still the falconer walked, not turning to see who panted and puffed behind him.

Falling into step with his new master, Scorpius fought the urge to look back. What was there to see? Nurse no longer needed him, and the falconer had need of a boy. He’d best get it through his head that no one had come to claim him, and now no one ever would.

© Julia Smith, 2010

Travis says You've packed quite a bit of insight into the character here.

Alice Audrey says That last line is very strong. Well done. Welcome to the Retreat!

Nessa says I like the third paragraph from the end. It is riddled with the tug and anxiety of a frightening yet appealing relationship.