Once again, I'm posting only with The Serialists this week, which appears on Wednesdays. This time, a mega migraine has cost me time on the computer, starting from last Saturday and continuing on its merry way. SO very ready to bid adieu.
To recap this dark fantasy story so far:
As a small boy of seven, Scorpius was fetched from the nursery where he'd been raised to live among the nobility - fetched not by his family, but by a falconer to serve as his apprentice.
Scorpius soon learned that a close encounter with a dragon was preferable to the cruelties of the nobles he'd once hoped were family. His master did whatever he could to shield Scorpius from the world outside their cottage, but the falconer was merely a servant who must obey his own masters.
An attempt on the life of a young noble while on a hunt sent the falconer and his apprentice on abruptly different paths.
We continue with Scorpius at age sixteen as he enters the service of Lord Thibault.
You can follow the progress of this story arc by clicking on the Works in Progress link just under the blog header.
Scene 71
Scorpius strode briskly through the servants’ entrance and into the warm afternoon. He’d been summoned to meet Lord Thibault at the stables, which likely meant a wild ride before dinner.
Still barely more than a novice when it came to riding, Scorpius deeply wished he’d somehow found the time to go out on his own before being called to accompany his skilled master. With all of the weapons training, learning his way around the vast estate, meeting all of the family members, staff and servants, Scorpius barely had time to blink. He’d never found that elusive moment, never placed his boot in the stirrup, because truth be known, he wished he never had to mount another horse.
A boyhood spent among the hawks and hunting dogs had given him a strong rapport with animals. He could read the behavior of the powerful stallions his master favored.
They sensed his unease around them, and since no horse respected a timid rider, every mount he’d been given fought his commands that weren’t commands at all. As Scorpius neared the stables, his stomach knotted up inside.
Could today not have been a dancing day? He was a quick study in the music room, much to Lord Thibault’s teasing delight.
The smells of the stables assaulted his nostrils as he entered through the wide doorway. At the far end, leaning against a post, his master gazed affectionately down at something squirming in the hay, just beyond the stall divider.
Forcing himself to join his master, taking care not to allow his distaste for riding show on his face or in his demeanor, Scorpius rounded the post and nodded at Lord Thibault, glancing over at the straw and at what lay upon it.
For a moment, he didn’t understand the sharp, piercing joy flooding his chest. A moment later, Scorpius lay flattened by the weight of Richolf’s hunting dog. Wriggling in greeting, tongue licking every speck of exposed skin, the dog cried in happiness.
When he could wrestle his face clear of the dog, Scorpius gazed at his master in wonder.
Lord Thibault laughed. “I sent someone out to check on the place. Apparently there’s a new falconer in residence. No need to worry over the birds. They’re being well taken care of.”
Scorpius wrapped his arms around the dog and squeezed. He couldn’t contain the excited animal, which set to work licking his face and ear with renewed vigor. “But how did you…?”
“I simply sent a reminder that the dog belonged not to the cottage, but to the man who previously held the position there,” Lord Thibault said.
“Is that true?” Scorpius asked, leaning his face into the familiar softness of the dog’s fur.
“I haven’t the slightest idea, but that’s what the servant told him.”
Scorpius laughed, falling backwards into the hay under the onslaught of the dog’s attentions.
A bed was made for the dog. Some food was found. Scorpius tore himself away to accompany his master to dinner in the great hall.
But late in the night, when he tossed and turned upon the smooth sheets, Scorpius made up his mind to rejoin his beloved companion even it he was forbidden entry to the manor house. He crept past Lord Thibault’s rhythmic breathing, navigated the polished floors in stocking feet and hurried out of the entry way as though duty compelled him.
Curling up in the hay beside his dog, Scorpius fell into the deepest sleep he could recall in years.
© Julia Phillips Smith, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
The Serialists - Scene 71
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Once again, the new Scorpius instalment will be posted later tonight
Thank you for your patience. I have been struggling with a nasty migraine that has been pinning me to the mat since last Saturday. I couldn't write last night. I'm still having problems today but will dredge it up from somewhere and post by this evening.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Summer Stock Sunday - 44
Robin's Summer Stock Sunday meme invites all to post summery photos, and to visit other bloggers who share their feelings and memories about this magical season. 
On this rather sombre day of remembrance on the 10th anniversary of 9/11, my family is celebrating my sister's first wedding anniversary.
She and her husband chose the date of Sept. 11th specifically to begin turning the energy of that date to something positive.
Their wedding last year at his family's cottage was filled with joy, love and dreams coming true.
May we all fill the world with these things, today especially, and every day of the year.
Photo by Anita Coady
Friday, September 9, 2011
5 on Friday - Set 83
Travis at Trav's Thoughts invites everyone to lay down a short set of music that takes their fancies for his 5 on Friday meme.
I just made it through a crazed revisions marathon over the Labor Day weekend, getting my vampire manuscript ready for three readers so they can give it the very last once-over. Then I'll be handing it to the formatter to prepare for e-book distribution. Hold on! I'm comin'!
Needless to say, I leaned heavily on some pulse-quickening music playlists to keep me going. Here are a few of the tunes that saved my ass last weekend.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
The Serialists - Scene 70
Scene 70
The falcon stared at him from the gloom of the mews, its thin body painful to look upon. As Scorpius hurried past the red-tail, the gray and the king hawk, the expected tiny lilting of bells attached to their jesses never came. Instead, the birds stood unmoving upon their perches, following his passage with their burning golden eyes.
Scorpius called for the dog, listening hard for that telltale loping swoosh through the grass. Rounding the corner of the cottage, he broke into a run, needing to see Richolf. Hurling himself at the door, he yanked and rattled the latch but it wouldn’t open.
“Master!” he called.
Something grabbed his attention over the pounding of his heart – it was the dog, whining and crying from around the side of the cottage. “I’m coming!” he called, shoving past brush and tearing his fine new clothes.
He’d been certain the dog was just around the corner, but there was only the boarded-up window where Ingerith had once stolen into the cottage in order to save Lord Thibault’s life. Scorpius used his newly-honed strength gained from the sword training, but nothing would free the boards keeping him out of the cottage where he’d grown to young manhood.
The dog’s cries led him all around the cottage, where he tried every window with no success. His new doublet now in shreds, Scorpius winced as a thorny branch sliced through to the skin.
Stepping away from the stone wall, squeezing through more brush, he hissed in pain as his trouser leg ripped. His hand pressed on the torn fabric, slick with blood, while an irritating snap, snap, snap filled the air as he cleared the tangle of branches at last.
Scorpius turned to look for the dog. Instead, he found the red-tail, the gray and the king hawk strewn along the path he’d just taken. Their crushed bodies were smeared with blood.
Recoiling, Scorpius found every falcon dead, covering the clearing in front of the cottage.
“Master!” he screamed. “Master!”
Two hands gripped his arms. He tried to sit up, but twisted blankets held him fast.
“Scorpius!” Lord Thibault said. “I’m here. Hush, now – you’ll have the other servants running down here in a minute.”
“We have to get them out. They’re dying!”
“Who are?”
“The hawks,” Scorpius said, his mouth so dry he could barely speak.
“The hawks,” his master repeated, slowly releasing him.
Scorpius peeled the blankets away, sitting up to run trembling hands through his hair. “They’re still tied to their perches, inside the mews. They can’t get out on their own. They’re starving. Why should they die because I’m here with you?”
The words were out of his mouth before he realized the tone he’d taken with his master. Scrambling to his knees among the strewn bedding, he bowed his head low.
Lord Thibault placed a steadying hand on Scorpius’ arm.
“Forgive me, lord,” Scorpius said.
“It’s forgotten.” Lord Thibault stood, heading for the door that separated their chambers. “Most of it, anyway.”
© Julia Phillips Smith, 2011
The new Scorpius instalment will be posted later tonight
Hi everyone -
Due to a mega-revisions Labor Day writing marathon, I won't have the latest instalment up until late Wed. night.
Friday, September 2, 2011
5 on Friday - Set 82
Travis at Trav's Thoughts invites everyone to lay down a short set of music that takes their fancies for his 5 on Friday meme.
Last New Year's Eve, Brad and I spent our final night in Toronto at my brother-in-law's karaoke show at the Konrad Lounge on the Lakeshore in Etobicoke, just down the street from Brad's mom's place.
2 - Conquistador - Procol Harum - sung by Brad at Karen's
3 - Where Do the Children Play? - Cat Stevens - sung variously by Jeff and Brad
4 - Mary Mac - Great Big Sea - I was challenged to sing this by Jeff. Of course, I took it up. I did reasonably well, but the speedy ending did me in.
5 - The Galaxy Song - Eric Idle - This has become my signature karaoke song. I never end a karaoke evening without singing this one.
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