Action Scenes

In my writing, action scenes--especially one-on-one fight scenes with no use of magic--are not my strong point. So when Authoress posted about a critique round for action excerpts, I jumped on the opportunity. Barely got in. Mine is #22 of 25. So head on over to Miss Snark’s First Victim and check out the action scenes, let me know how I did.

Thursday’s Tale: The Minotaur’s Staff

My local writers group, Writers of the West, is using our weekly meetings as write-ins for NaNoWriMo this month. As I am not participating in NaNo, I have been using the meetings for reading through last year’s NaNo story (still incomplete) to refresh myself on it and do some editing.

We have another meeting tonight, so the story is on my mind. And since it is a Thursday, what better time to have a Thursday’s Tale.

Without further ado, here is the opening page of The Minotaur Staff:

"Hey, Weed, I found something!"

Wesley "Weed" Larkin squinted toward Ahmed's location. Fair enough, the sun glinted off something shiny in all that sand. He pulled the rim of his fedora down, and adjusted the scarf over his mouth. This better be good. Wes stepped into the roped enclosure. As he approached Ahmed, his foot hit something harder than sand. "A structure?"

"Na'am." Yes. Ahmed pointed to the cleared spot at his feet.

Wes knelt and brushed the sand away with his hand. Metal, not stone, glinted from beneath. "This could be it. Our city of gold. Clark!" The Irishman rushed over, red hair too bright, glaring in the sun. "Get a sample of this metal. I'll need it analyzed before I can inform Danvers."

While Clark extracted some metallic flakes and transferred them to his lab tent, the rest of the team moved in to start digging. Wes wanted to know what was in that building. It could be a temple, a throne room, a nobleman's house. Hopefully with something valuable preserved inside.

He grabbed a shovel and dug in with the rest of the team. His robes were covered in sand by the time Clark hollered. Wes took off his face scarf and used it to wipe the dirty sweat from his brow as he walked back to the tents.

Clark's brow was creased, making his glasses slide down his nose. He pushed them up as he looked up from the computer. "Not gold."

You Show Me Yours, I’ll Show You Mine! Blogfest

I haven’t touched this since NaNoWriMo, but figured I’d join in on the blogfest last minute. New year, new motivation. This is from The Minotaur Staff, a (mostly) modern supernatural adventure.

Find other blogfest entries here.

 

Akua gave out a battle cry of her own, feinted, and as he put down his horns to block her blow, she kicked out, slamming her foot toward the injured leg. Light flashed in her face, but she heard bone crunch. What stupid trick was this? She felt her opponent fall and put a foot on his torso, aimed her sword at his neck. No magic would keep her from her win.

The form beneath her became clear as the light faded. Her foot rested on a naked chest, but her opponent had changed. Shrunk. This man had no bull head, but a man's face and long hair the color of wheat. The arena was gone, replaced with a square room. Strange objects, fireless lights.

Akua pressed her sword into the man's neck. "What magic is this? Are you an illusionist? Am I drugged?"

The man groaned.

She pressed the tip harder, until blood came. "Who are you?"

He took a breath and coughed, pointing at her foot. Must be hard to answer with her obstructing his air. Very well. She stepped back, but kept her sword ready. "Speak!"

He sat up and cried out. "Shit. What did you do, break my leg? And how did you get in here? Didn't I lock the door? This is my room. You're the one who should be answering questions." He winced as he pulled himself up to sit on the bed. An object fell out of his hand as he supported himself.

"The Oracle's Eye! Forgive me, I did not realize."

He frowned and rubbed his head. Then said something in gibberish. Must have hit his head when he fell. She picked the Eye off the floor. "Where is your staff, Oracle?"

He shook his head. "That I understand. What did you say before that?"

"I am sorry for injuring you, Lord. I asked your forgiveness. Then you spoke gibberish. I am glad it was only temporary." She frowned. "Or was it one of your spells?"

"No, you're the one who spoke gibberish. Whatever. Give me that artifact. I need it."

"The Eye? Of course." His hand was as death against her dark skin. She had never seen an oracle, or any Atlantean, with such skin.

"What are you doing here?"

"I know not. I was fighting in the arena, triumphing over my opponent. Then the light came, and I was here. I assume you summoned me somehow, Oracle. What have I done to displease thee?"

"Oracle? That's the second time you've called me that. What arena? You look like you came out of a history book."

"You are no Oracle?" She lifted her sword. "Then you have no right to that. Are you even an Atlantean?"

His eyes widened. "Atlantean? Like Atlantis?"

"I meant not the Atlantis. The city of Atalanta. Are you from either?"

"I didn't even know they existed. Atalanta lived thousands of years ago."

"Do not lie about Queen Atalanta! Rise and I shall take you to her and the Oracle. You will be punished for your theft and blasphemy. Give me back the Eye."

"No! This is my key to freedom from my debts."

"You took me from my battle, my chance to win freedom for myself and my family! Give. It. Back." She raised her sword and pressed it to his throat.

"Whoa, that's sharp."

Beware the Shovel…

… The Traveling Shovel of Death!

This shovel travels around the NaNoWriMo forums, invading people’s novels. Killing innocent characters (and some not so innocent). Demons, zombies, serial killer victims, suicide. Does someone need to die? Use the shovel. It may be disguised as a writing challenge to work the TSOD into your novel, but once you are aware of the shovel, it will invade whether you plan it or not.

I first heard of the shovel from Liana. There is even a Facebook group for the TSOD.

Has the shovel visited one of your novels?

This year, a shovel may just become my gladiator’s weapon-of-choice against the minotaurs.

Last year the shovel killed off a courtesan in RACE TO 100 DEATHS:

 

The three elves looked up as a lantern shone on them. The yellow light lit Cillia's horrified face as well as the carnage.

Sable, digging a fresh grave. Daon drinking blood from the corpse of her friend. And Tilara covered in blood.

"What have you done?" She rushed over and pushed Daon away. "Mellanae!" She looked at Daon, blood still on his lips. "She's dead! And you... you drink her blood?? Tilara?"

"She was injured. It was an accident. Yes, we took advantage of her death..."

Cillia stumbled. "You as well? Are all elves blood drinkers?"

Sable reached toward her. "We have no choice. You have to understand."

Cillia shook her head. "No. No. Out. Get out. Before I call the guard."

Sable grabbed her arm. She screamed. "Stay away from me!"

Sable's face hardened. A guttaral roar exploded from him as the shovel came up. He hit her in the head. She fell, nose and forehead bleeding. The lantern rolled to the side. He hit her again. Sobs shook him as he turned back to the grave. Tilara stood in shock as he began to widen the hole.

"You killed her. We could have left as she asked. She was our friend. You went too far."

Sable emphasized each word with a heave of the bloody shovel. "No. Choice. Monsters."

Daon grabbed Tilara's arm. "We have to get out of here. Now!"

The rose bushes had caught fire. Tilara considered leaving Sable. Perhaps the fire would kill him where a knife could not. But they were in this together. She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "I know you cared. It's over now. Time to move on."

Playing at the Beach

 

This is another scene from Trinity Coven. I wrote this when I was in a playful mood. When I saw the Beach Scene Blogfest, I knew this was perfect! Have some fun with Kaelin:

Kaelin picked a spot where the cliff shaded the beach. Perfect. She knelt and wiggled both hands into the damp sand until they were buried. Cool and moist, embracing her like a lover. With a sigh she pushed her hands forward and down. She continued to shape widen the hollow, turning and shifting, building a wall around her with the displaced sand. Once she had a decent pit, she stood. Her wrap was caked in sand. Oh well. She untied the knot at her waist and let the wind catch the light cloth, blowing it to catch on the cliff rocks.

Time to see what her magic was capable of. Crouched in the center of the five foot wide depression, she dug her fingers again into the sand. Closed her eyes. Called the water. She thought water, was water. All the moisture within her beckoned that in the sand, and in the sea. The sand loosened as water flowed up around her fingers. Kaelin sat back on her heels and opened her eyes. It worked! She giggled as the water rose to lap against her toes. It was alive. The sea came through the sand to greet her, making runic patterns in the sand.

She straightened and cupped her hands. Little rivulets rose up her legs, spiraled over her hips, dipped in her belly button, and danced down her arms to pool in her palms. A sip was enough to cause shivers. Definitely sea water. Ugh. Opening herself to bath water was much easier than drinking sea water. But Naiya had said she needed to take it within herself to be one with it. She swallowed hard. One, two, three, drink. She slurped the entire handful into her mouth.

There was a moment of revulsion as bile mixed in her throat with brine. Then she gasped as her body absorbed it. A star burst within her, sending out tendrils of electricity to the tips of her fingers, toes, and tongue. The sea water recognized her as being part of it, and rushed to finish filling the little pond. Lips no longer parched, Kaelin crouched back down until the water lapped her shoulders. Eyes open this time, she submerged her head and breathed in. Laughter came out in bubbles. She breathed the water like a mermaid.

"Wow." Like tiny pink lights, she could sense all the little creatures swimming around her. She lifted a hand and they swarmed to touch her. She couldn't feel them with her nerves, but her magic surged as they met her, covered her hand in a pink glow. "Hello little ones." They scattered as quickly as they came. Had she startled them? A muffled call lifted her head. Or maybe they had sensed someone not of water.

Water sluiced off her as she climbed out of the pool. Anton was at the cliff's foot, dirty wrap in hand.

"There you are! It's getting dark. I was worried."

Thursday’s Tale: Bridget

Bridget Kendrick was the first to discover her magic and begin seeking out the sisters of her coven, leaving home at age sixteen. Tall, auburn chin-length hair, and stunning violet eyes. She has two younger siblings. An older brother died while serving in the Royal Air Force. Bridget blames America for his death, as Britain joined the war at their behest.

No stranger to magic, Bridget learned hearth magic from her mother, as it has been taught in generations past. Her goddess gift is fire, but she also enjoys to heat up the bedroom. She is bold and calculating. The only thing quiet about her is her laugh.

Inspired by her brother, Bridget is a pilot. She flies a jet for hire, often transporting Maralah and her clients.

You may remember Bridget from a previous excerpt. Here’s an excerpt earlier in the story. This takes place at a rented one-room cottage.

 

She kicked her shoes off, and settled in the flower print recliner with an iced tea.

"A little flowery, but nice place."

"Yeah." Bridget reclined on the king bed. "Too bad I don't have anyone to warm these sheets with tonight."

Maralah sipped her drink. "No success with the limo driver?"

"Too old. And married."

"Not that either has stopped you."

Bridget laughed. "You know me too well. Truth is, I noticed President Clark's biography tucked next to his seat. Too patriotic." She shuddered.

Maralah lifted her drink in a toast. "Now that I can understand."

"I'm thinking of staying in Italy for a few days before flying home to Wales. Come with me. Mama has been dying to meet you."

"I've kept my schedule clear for the next month because of summer solstice. I'd love to see a traditional celebration. Plus shopping in Italy? How could I say no?"

Bridget sighed. "If only our coven was closed. I've been itching to do more than petty magic."

"Your magic is not petty." Maralah set aside her empty glass. She took a vial from her purse and sat cross-legged on the carpet, the fireplace on her left. "Let's petition the Trinity. See if our sister has awoken."

Bridget sat in front of Maralah. With a wave of her hand, a fire blazed up in the hearth.

Maralah opened the vial and poured a dime sized amount of dirt into her hand. She tossed it in the fire. The flames changed to a bright green, then blue, purple, and back to orange. They clasped hands. "We call the goddess three."

"Fire to lend our power."

"Sacred earth we give thee."

"Show our sister this hour."

Three crystals appeared between them, spinning as if hanging from a mobile. The red and brown both glowed as if a star was trapped inside. The third, blue as the ocean depths, remained dark.

Thursday’s Tale - Maralah

Trinity Coven. Three women, of different backgrounds, tied by magic. Goddesses reborn to shape the world. 

 

Maralah Tusa is of the Zuni tribe in New Mexico. As her name implies, she was born during an earthquake. She came into her magic and met her inner goddess at the sacred ruins of Chaco Canyon during summer solstice of her twentieth year. The Zuni believe that people emerged from the underground. Her earth magic connects with her heritage rather than contradict it.  As an only child, her parents were dismayed when she left home rather than stay and continue tradition.

Over the last four years, Maralah has used her ear for language to earn a high reputation as a translator. In addition to her native Zuni, she speaks English, Keres, German, Japanese, Spanish, and Italian.

Maralah may not have been the first of the three to come to her magic, but her quiet strength is the foundation of Trinity Coven. She believes that summoning the dragon will bring needed change for her people.

 

Maralah stopped her SUV and stood on the worn path that barely qualified as a road. The pueblos of her village were ahead. She needed to reach the Gallup airport, but could never resist driving here if she were in the region. The structures were welcoming, but she knew her family would not be. They did not understand her. Maralah slipped out of her high-heeled sandals to feel the dirt beneath her feet. Power coursed up through her, filling the emptiness. Her people came from the earth. She manipulated it now. And someday it would embrace her in death. But the soil she grew up on was not her destiny. Her family could never understand that.

Her phone rang. She pushed her long black hair behind her ear and turned on the headset. "Yes?"

"It's Bridget. We're ahead of schedule. Should be landing in half an hour."

"I'm on my way now."

Maralah tossed her shoes in the vehicle and climbed in after. She turned from the village. Enrica Rossi didn't appreciate tardiness.

She made a quick call to ensure proper transportation at the airport. She bent the speed limit, but arrived to see Bridget helping the client off the jet. The Italian lady sparkled with diamond jewelry contrasting her black Cavalli pant suit. Maralah rushed to greet her.

"Buongiorno, Enrica. How was your flight?"

Thursday’s Tale: the Heidrich Brothers

The warlocks being brothers, I thought it easiest for them to share a post. Though with the current book tensions, I don’t know how happy they will be about the idea.

 

There are seven Heidrich siblings. Their mother named them alphabetically: Anton, twins Brunhild and Corrina, Dagmar, Erwin, then twins Freya and Guntram.

Once the three brothers became old enough, their grandfather of gypsy blood came and took them to a place of power to inherit their magic. This new generation of warlocks was given their purpose: stopping Trinity Coven. Whenever this coven is formed, three brothers shall oppose it. Such it has been in the past, and such it shall be in days to come.

Anton is the leader, the protector. Each warlock has a different magical proficiency. Anton’s is air. His brown hair contrasts his blue eyes. He is observant and will question matters to get a full picture.

Erwin is young, but talented and famous world-wide. His skill, both magical and natural, lies in music. Tickets to see him play his harp are hard to come by, for his performances are enchanting. He uses his connections and fame to further their purpose. Anton is his manager. This comes in handy when arranging trips in their search for the coven members. Erwin’s hair coloring is the same as Anton’s, but his eyes are brown. He wears glasses and tends to rub his narrow mustache. He is always eager for new knowledge.

Guntram idolizes Anton, but is coming to grips with the changes in his life. Now that he’s graduated, he can tag along on tours, doing menial work. His magic lies in metal.

Here is their introduction in the story.

 

Text from Erwin: 3RD WITCH FOUND

Anton closed his phone and slid it into his pocket as he stepped off the tram. Now he was glad he'd decided not to stop at the pub. The light was still on at Engraved Wonders, and the door unlocked, despite the closed sign. Anton gave Freya a kiss on the cheek as he entered the art shop, and helped her balance the armful of frames she was putting up for display.

"What's with you? Meet a girl?"

He laughed. "Not exactly. Tell you later. Both upstairs?"

"Yup. Been sequestered up there all day."

Anton went up the narrow stairs in the back to join his brothers in the dim loft.

Guntram, the youngest at eighteen, lounged in the window seat, long legs somehow managing to fit in front of him. He flicked the remains of a cigarette out the cracked window that let in the muggy night air.

Erwin leaned over a laptop on the desk. Without looking up, he beckoned the eldest brother closer. Anton pulled up a folding chair and straddled it backward, resting his arms on the back as he scanned the images on the screen.

"This is her? An albino? How can you be sure?"

Thursday’s Tale: Kaelin

I’m going to do a series of character sketches. Some background, personality, and maybe a mini excerpt. There are six major characters of Trinity Coven. Three witches and three warlocks. Each have at least a couple viewpoint scenes, though the majority are weighted toward Kaelin, with Anton a strong second.

 

Kaelin being the MAIN Character, I’m going to introduce her first. Born at Niagara Falls (see diary), and now living in the Canadian city of the same name, Kaelin Fontaine lives alone in a secluded house. She is albino. Ridiculed as a child, her parents protected her. She was homeschooled, never traveled. Her parents were wealthy, both through inheritance and fame.

Her condition leaves her skin and eyes sensitive to the sun. She has glasses that darken in sunlight, and tends to wear scarves and hats when outside.

She has a younger sister, who is married and has two kids. Six months ago, Kaelin’s parents were shot by a carjacker while they were visiting Washington DC.

Kaelin has always been different. Besides the unusual circumstances surrounding her birth, and her albinism, she has had fish leap out of water to land at her feet, her nocturnal dragon eels come out during the day to greet her. She is drawn to water. Unbeknownst to her, that is where her magic lies. It merely waits to be awoken.

Kaelin learns her parents left her their house in Castle Combe, and her sister has convinced her to visit the house for herself. The following excerpt takes place just after she learns her sister leaked the news to the town gossip. She is sitting in her car.

 

She dug out her new cell phone, which Tali had insisted she buy for the trip, and rang up her sister.

"Miley showed me the article in the paper. And told me all about your web journal thing. How could you?"

"You never said to keep it secret. Besides, you'll be in London for the summer, who cares what they're saying here? You're already packed, and your itinerary is planned. Just go."

Kae actually hung up on her sister. If Tali asked, she'd say it was an accident. These cell phones were new to her. She dropped the phone on the passenger seat and rested her head on the steering wheel. Maybe she should turn around, go home. No need to endure an airport, fly millions of miles away, and meet some stranger she'd only spoken to once. She could stay home with her fish. No one would know she wasn't in England.

No one except Tali. Kae straightened. Even her own sister would agree to the recluse bit. She couldn't shut herself away forever. This was her chance to get away from the publicity. Maybe in Europe her coloring would be exotic rather than strange. And if Mum and Dad hadn't told her about the house, maybe there were other things they had sheltered her from. There was a whole world out there. Waiting. This was her chance. Surely she had a calling, more than recluse and volunteer at an animal shelter.

Excerpt Thursday

Not the most clever title. Ah well. A new regular feature! An excerpt of writing every Thursday. Most likely it will be pieces from my main WIP, but I may share bits of other projects, or even poetry.

Here’s a quick excerpt from the current chapter of Trinity Coven. Kaelin, MC of Trinity Coven, has found her mother’s diary. Her parents were famous magicians, and have been dead for six months. The latter of which is technically irrelevant to the entries themselves, so… bonus info! There are a couple entries between these two, which shall not be revealed at this time.

Dear diary:

The doctor has confirmed the good news. After ten long years of trying, I am pregnant! Luc has disallowed me from doing magic. How am I to go seven more months without it?! Our next tour starts this summer. I am to be relegated to assistant status. Why does he get all the fun? I do understand his concerns. My family has a history of miscarriage. My mother lost three before she had me. All precaution must be taken.

…

Dear diary:

I have a daughter.

Luc tried to dissuade me, but I insisted on this one last stop. Niagara Falls called to me. What an amazing sight. So much mist and water and noise. And the rainbows. Looking over that rail, I felt part of something bigger. Then the pain began. Water everywhere. Between my legs, in my head, from the waterfall despite the blue poncho, soaking me. Something came upon me, entered me, and I felt as if I had drowned. Luc told me what happened next. I collapsed, and the child came quickly. There was no time to get to a hospital. When I came to, she was already in his arms as we rode in the back of an ambulance. Such a pale child, like she was born from the mists of Niagara. I knew then she was no Alexis, no Selina. I spent all morning looking through a baby name book here at the hospital. She is my waterfall pond. My Kaelin.

Tuesday Tally: Trinity Coven

I wrote some really fun scenes in Trinity Coven last week. I itched to write last Friday, but my son was out of school, and it didn’t happen. Looking forward to getting to the next chapter this afternoon. I know my two beta readers are eager to read it. Pressure! Good pressure.

Goals for this week:

• write one scene per weekday. TC scenes have been averaging 700 words, so that would be around 3500 words
• send out more queries
• submit at least 3 poems

 

Excerpt from last week’s writing (warning, this is rough draft):

 

Bridget shrugged to keep her shopping bag from falling down her shoulder, while she maneuvered to get her phone from her purse. She glanced at the reflection in the store window. Still there. She spoke Maralah's name into the phone. Thank the goddesses for voice recognition, but she was beginning to see why Maralah liked her bluetooth.

When she finally answered, Bridget cut through the small talk. "I'm being followed. Don't know if he knows who I really am, or I just have a really cute stalker. Kinda young though."

"How young?"

Bridget tilted her phone to take a picture over her shoulder. Lanky but not awkward. Gorgeous full head of black hair. Face narrow, mouth firm. She lingered over it for a moment, then sent it to Maralah. "Not young enough to keep me from getting to know him." If only she had changed into a dress instead of remaining in her pilot suit. Hopefully he liked a girl in uniform.

Heat flickered through her mind. Bridget listened to its warning. She murmured half to herself and half to the fire, "He's still a boy. Even if he is a warlock, I should be able to handle him." Maralah answered the statement not meant for her. "We are not yet complete. Don't get too cocky."

Bridget rolled her eyes. "You both need to trust me." She hung up the phone and dropped it into her purse. A cafe sprawled onto the sidewalk at the next corner. Perfect. Bridget dropped bag onto one of the tables. A glance back showed the young man stepping into the shadow of a neighboring awning. She turned to stare at him fully. He took a step back and avoided her gaze. Coward.

Eyes not leaving his face, Bridget walked right up to him. He started when she grabbed his hand. "I've seen you admiring me. Don't be shy."