Hi, I posted this once before but my eldest suggests I do it again as it was before she sorted out my messy blog problem, have a read. I hope you enjoy the excerpt from Tessellation Saga.
I chose an excerpt from Chapter 5, its the chapter in which our hero, Gideon is born. I chose it because although not the first chapter in the book it is the first one I actually wrote.
The Storm and the Beginning
Away on the other side of the forest, a coach rocked heavily from side to side as it raced along one of the forest tracks. One of the last of the winter storms trying to turn back the spring raged manically all around it, the driving rain stinging the eyes of the horses despite their weather covers.
‘This is a filthy night and so cold… more like its still winter, we should never have been given this job… ‘e should ave got someone else,’ shouted the driver to his attendant over the rumble of thunder.
‘Who’s the mark anyway, an’ what’s she done that soldiers want’ ‘er?’ the attendant replied also shouting, as the driving wind tore off his rain soaked hat. ‘Journey’s sake!’ he cursed as he turned to follow its progress as it tumbled and flew far behind them, the wind now whipped through his unrestrained hair and thoughts of his lost hat paled into insignificance as the view behind them made his blood freeze.
‘We should slow down,’ shouted the driver.
‘You tell them that then,’ the attendant replied in a panic as he pointed to riders following in the wake of the coach, catching up fast despite the storm. ‘By the Journey, ‘ow the ‘eck did they find us?’ he added as a wheel jammed in a rut in the muddy ground, causing the coach to jump into the air before crashing back with a lurch. Lightning arced across the night sky lighting the track with instant daylight for a second. The attendant, thrown into the air with the coach frantically struggled to regain his fragile hold on the unstable vehicle.
‘Much more of this and we’ll all be stopping fer good, no money is worth this, they can take ‘er!’ the driver hollered in the direction of his partner as he offered a steadying hand. A crossbow bolt thudded into the back of the coach, swiftly followed by a second, narrowly missing the driver’s hand and he suddenly realised they would probably both be dead men very soon.
‘Move damn yer!’ he shouted at the horses, ‘move or we’re all dead.’
The riders following hard were intent on catching up and the frightened driver urged his horses on, trying desperately to get them to move faster, the coach pitched violently, once more unseating the attendant as he clung on to its side.
“E said as how we were ter keep her safe, ter get her ter…,’ the driver didn’t get to finish or if he did, his voice was lost as simultaneously lightning flashed across the night sky and thunder cracked eardrums leaving the party of travellers temporarily deafened. As the gap between the riders and dangerously rocking coach closed, the driver began to pray, still the gap narrowed. The forward rider came closer, forcing his beleaguered horse onward; suddenly he was up against the side of the speeding vehicle. The attendant carefully reached across and attempted to push him back with a spare bullwhip kept atop the careering carriage.
The beautifully braided twelve-inch leather handle was now slippery in the intense cold and rain and cracking the twenty-foot lash was almost impossible. Coupled with his own unsteady gait and the closeness of the pursuing rider, the handle proved as ineffective as the leather lash and the twenty-inch fall, the single piece of leather attached to the end of the lash and usually most effective when used to cut or strike a target. Now it lay uselessly coiled atop the moving boxes and in frustration, the attendant threw the whip aside, his bowels turned to water as he watched the pursuing rider’s attempt to leap the short distance between his horse and the carriage. Almost in slow motion, the wind picked up the abandoned whip and flung out its thong, the leather handle wedged sharply under a box of luggage and the lash itself wrapped around the body of the man as he readied to jump, it curled and struck his horse in the face, the long wet fall biting deeply across its muzzle. The rider went down alongside the coach as his animal shied with intense pain. Unsteadied, the soldier immediately grabbed out at the wet rope like whip, catching hold and attempting to secure himself as it untangled from his body and flew like a tail behind them. The attendant saw the man’s hands slipping and a look of horror cross his face as he disappeared beneath the coach and once more, the vehicle jumped, he wondered if the cause was yet another rut in the road or the soldier falling beneath the fast moving carriage wheels.
Time returned to normal as the body of the soldier appeared from behind the coach, dragged along by the whip that had again entangled about him. The attendant felt sick as he saw spurts of what looked in the darkness like black blood, mingling with the mud and rain, the soldier remained silent as his body tumbled and twisted behind the coach like an unsteady rudder on a boat at sea.
Almost imperceptibly, the drag caused by the soldier’s body began to slow the carriage down causing the driver to scream again at his frightened horses. In frenzy, the attendant realising what had happened tried to release the handle of the whip from where it had caught, box after bag he threw from the coach top as he dug for the pinioned handle, the pursuers avoiding the missiles with ease in their pursuit of the carriage. As he finally wrenched the handle free, the whip flew from his hands through the rain and disappeared beneath the muddy water in the roadway, the soldier’s broken body slowed and stopped, now little more than a hump in the road as the carriage took off once more with added momentum.
‘Slow and we’re dead!’ screamed the attendant as he watched the remaining soldiers also slow and gather around their fallen comrade, ‘they’ve stopped to see ter their mate..., move,’ he added, unsure if the driver had heard his screams as even shouted conversation now became inaudible. The terrain became rougher as the volume of water and slush increased, the wheels jarred and shuddered as they continued their breakneck speed pulled by the soaked, terrified and exhausted horses.
Ahead of the racing team, near a bend in the track, lightning struck again close to the route they were following, an old tree suddenly lit up and its silhouette showed in high relief for an instant as it sheared off near the base of its trunk. The tree fell across the track only to immediately disappear beneath the water that had gathered in the sludge. No trace of the trees once great bole was visible above the water line as it settled deeply into the mud and the small fire at the point of the lightning’s strike had no chance to gain hold, so quickly died out as the rain continued to pour down in torrents.
The carriage rushed on toward its fate.
The wind howled as the first of the horses caught the hidden trunk sunk deep in the mire. It stumbled and pulled its pair down slightly before they both managed to scramble over the obstacle but the damage was already done. The second set of horses caught the unfamiliar downward pull of the first pair, frightened and tired they too jumped, almost landing on the backs of the lead pair, then they too went down. Amongst the thunder and lightning, the driving rain and the mud, the horses screamed as they tried to raise their broken bodies. The exposed wheels of the carriage smacked hard into the submerged log causing the whole carriage to spin and topple trapping the coachman beneath it. Lines snapped as the body of the attendant flew, thrown high into the air by the forward momentum of the carriage, his head hit a tree and he fell unconscious, landing precariously balanced between two branches high above the scene of carnage below. The driver with his ankle broken by the weight of the carriage lay helpless in the freezing cold mud, he was trapped and unable to pull his leg free as the rain beat down and their pursuers made up time behind them.
Inside the carriage, a heavily pregnant young girl held her extended belly, she was bruised, battered and sore but her relief at the movement inside her belly caused her to smile.
‘They won’t have you, he won’t have you little one,’ she said, ‘I’ll protect you.’ Pushing hard at the door of the carriage, she grabbed her bag and heaved her large swollen body out into the cold, rain soaked night only to find amidst the screaming horses, the mud and the rain, the driver, still trying through his pain to free his ankle. In flash of lightning, he saw her watching him, indecision on her face, finally, she shouted above the storm.
‘Let me help you...’ she called as she waded uncomfortably toward him.
‘No, no my lady, go, run now, they’re coming for yer,’ he replied between gasps of pain. “Sides, I would have let ‘em take yous,’ he added harshly.
‘I can’t leave you… I won’t leave you...’ She replied, as despite her size she tried to pull the offending ankle free. The driver’s scream rivalled that of the horses as the weight of the coach shifted, settling deeper in the mud and as it rocked, the ankle suddenly shot free revealing the open fracture and the blood mingling with the mud and rain. The girl landed in the mire, now as filthy and wet as the driver himself. ‘Come on... please try…,’ she shouted through the rain lashing against her face and stinging her eyes as she tried to pull him to his feet. He struggled to stand, his entire weight resting on one foot. Slowly both he and the girl crossed through the still screaming horses to the side of the track where she tore a length off her underskirt to staunch the bleeding and cover the fracture, the bone, white and jagged as it pushed unnaturally through the skin. With the ankle bound, she again helped him to his feet and they took off into the woods, fear for their lives taking the edge off any pain and without thought for their tracks, as evidence of their passing became quickly obliterated by the rain. Deeper and deeper they went through the trees but above the sound of the unprecedented violent storm, they could now hear the muted sounds of their pursuers searching for them at the site of the crash.
It's by yours truly, DJRidgway and called 'the tessellation saga' available on Amazon for kindle.
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