Faster

Well i was able to get chapter 17 finished within less then 24 hours of 16. I am very impressed with myself. Even did a little more on my synopsis… it is what it is, thankfully my editor told me that onc ei am done writing the snyopsis to send it to him for editing and he would re-work and tweek it to make it sound/look better and if i liked it i could use it. My editor rocks something awesome. Still need to think about starting my cover letter… bleh something else i am not overly looking forward too.

I went and looked over the last chapter and have decided i am going to re-write it almost completely. The story line and plot and ending wont change, but wording and details and how it all happens will change abit. It is the last chapter and as much as it does have a good powerful gripping finish to it, i think i could do it better…. correction, i know i can do better.

Wife is working late tonight and so its just me and baby bear all night, which has been good, he has been very good this evening… right now he is diving bombing me and giving me bear hugs while i slowly try and write this. lol cute.

Anyways here is another random short piece of my book, enjoy.

Meath eyed the Shaman attentively, his adrenaline renewing his strength and will. His eyes narrowed on the sword that hung at the hip of the warrior, his sword. The impressive blade looked small and out of place on such a large man.

“Watch and witness for it will be your turn soon,” Kinor growled, clearly annoyed of how things had gone.

Meath lurched forward, his face twitching with anger and hate. He was about to speak when Kinor cut him off.

“What? Hmm, what are you going to do?” he taunted. “Even if you could use your Gift you are no match for me.” As he spoke, the ground rippled underneath him and a platform of steps emerged from the earth all the way up to the edge of the white circle that contained Meath, until he was eye level with him. “I have taken The Gifts of a dozen Masters and a hundred whelps like you, and with each one I grow stronger!”

Meath could smell his breath and a wicked smirk curled across his lips as he spat into his face. Meath embraced the moment and kicked his legs up hard. Kinor did not have time to react and he was knocked off his earthly pillar.

“Stronger maybe, but not smarter,” Meath spat again, a defiant smile wide across his lips.

Kinor scrambled to his feet, his face flush with rage. “You wretch!” he screamed, flames erupting from his outstretched arms.

Meath flinched back as he saw the ravenous flames rush toward him. At least this way he would be killed before the Shaman could steal his Gift. Meath could feel the intense heat from the fire all around him, but no flames licked his flesh. His eyes slowly opened, the heat stinging them. The fury of fire crackled and raged all around him, but did not penetrate the circle. It was as if a wall was stopping the flames from entering. Soon after, the flames dispersed into nothingness.

“Your time will come!” Kinor hissed, grabbing the brand from the fire pit and walking over to the battered Wizard on the ground. The earth shifted and rose exposing the wizard’s frayed, broken arm. He pressed the brand into the palm hard. The old wizard tried to pull away but did not have the strength to resist effectively. “Bring me a knife and a goblet,” Kinor commanded to the warrior who stood dumbfounded in the hut. He was fast to act, lest he anger the Shaman anymore than he was.

The Shaman took the blade and ran it across the old wizard’s cheek, freeing the warm blood he was after. He held the cup under the old man’s jaw and collected the stream until he was satisfied with the amount.

Meath’s stomach turned watching the Shaman drink every last crimson drop from the wooden goblet. His eyes drifted to the brand mark in the wizards palm and he tried to make out what it was.

“They are the Keeper’s symbols. I am sure you have heard of them, Hate, Lies, Murder, Devastation, Greed, and finally Death,” the Shaman intervened. “It is His will that makes it all possible, but you will see that soon enough. You will get to watch this one die and give his Gift to me, and then you will give me your Gift.”

Meath lurched forward again, his teeth gritted in anger, which only brought a smile to the Shaman’s face. He grabbed another one of the brands and placed it into the flames.

Meath’s attention turned back to the old wizard, the earth was rising up with him on it. Vicious vines sprouted around him, latching on and entangling the poor man tightly. As the vines moved and consumed his body, their sharp thorns cut and tore into his flesh. Meath could hear the muffled wails of the wizard and he prayed the lack of air would kill him before anything else. Only his feet remained uncovered by the thatch work of crimson wet vines.

Meath watched the Shaman burn two more symbols into the man, one on each of his feet. It was sickening to watch the Shaman work, his face was void of anything but satisfaction in his inflictions.

The bloody vines unraveled back to where they had come, leaving behind their lacerated, near-death victim. Meath could not even tell if the man was still breathing. He hoped for his sake he was not.

The Shaman seemed to notice this too. “Cannot have you die, yet,” the Shaman mused. The blood-soaked earthly table shifted forward, rippling the ground as it came to the call of its master. The Shaman place his hand on the wizard’s chest and several of the deep gashes closed as they were forced healed. Kinor turned back to the fire pit and grasped the next symbol. The earthly podium lifted from the back, sitting the wizard almost upright. Kinor waved the warrior over and the brute tore the tattered robes off, leaving him naked. The brand pressed hard into his chest with a hiss.

Meath could not help but get lost in the splendor and ease of the Shaman’s Gift. He was so fluent and motionless, it was almost impossible to tell when or if the Shaman was summoning his Gift. The pure magnitude of his powers was baffling. Meath had to wonder just how powerful the Shaman really was, for his powers had to outmatch that of Ursa’s.

The wizard slumped weakly in his earthly chair; as if on cue the vines returned and slithered tightly around his neck, holding him in place. His hands shot up to grip the choking vines but they were already entangled and going nowhere. He kicked and thrashed futilely; his air was being cut off and his face began turning purple.

Kinor lifted the final symbol up and pressed it hard into the wizard’s forehead. The wizard’s eyes rolled back into his head, he began to thrash and spasm artificially, several of his restraints snapping from the unnatural force he seemed to now possess. His screams were muffled at first by the melted scab where his lips had once been. But soon the wails broke free, tearing through their cauterized cage with deafening tones from an unholy source.

Finally, the wizard’s body collapsed and went limp. The Shaman slashed the wizard’s throat and filled his wooden goblet once again with blood and drank with haste. He dropped the cup to the floor his face and body began convulsing uncontrollably. His muscles pulsed and contorted freakishly on his skinny frame. The veins in his arms twisted and bulged as if full of maggots and worms trying to break free.

The Shaman dropped to his knees in what appeared to be agony. The temperature in

the hut dropped substantially, so each exhaled breath could be witnessed. The flames of the fire died down and wavered out, leaving the hut a gloomy dark.

Meath’s eyes widened beyond belief; the dead wizard’s body went rigid and the muscles snapped taunt. His mouth jolted open so wide the jawbones cracked, leaving his maw gapping. An eerie, disturbing howl escaped sending a shiver up Meath’s spine.

Kinor crawled nearer to the dead wizard; he was breathing hard labored breaths as he waited eagerly. The howl stopped and a wraithlike vapor, hesitantly ascended from the body. It pulsed and radiated a raw aura of power, causing the large warrior to stumble back out of the hut in retreat.

Meath was so caught up in the moment he had to remind himself to breath. The aura fought bitterly as it descended down toward the waiting Shaman. Unholy light flashed in a fury and the still air of the hut pulsated in defiance at the aberrant act that was occurring. Slowly the Shaman absorbed the translucent essence until there was nothing left.

Kinor collapsed to the ground in utter exhaustion, his breathing so shallow and weak his chest did not rise. Meath wondered if the event that he had just witnessed had killed the Shaman. He could only hope.