People (namely my students) ask me all the time, “How long does it take you write a book?”
I’ll be honest, I don’t know. Mainly because I’m never working on just one. When I start, most ideas start out in my ‘random’ file, which started as a dream journal (writing tip. Several of my books have started from dreams). Once the story gets big enough, I move it to its own document. Sometimes it dies there. Sometimes it blossoms there. But I’m never working on just one book. Sometimes I get fixated on one, or I make myself get fixated (See April/May, when the self-imposed publishing deadline looms and I HAVE to get the chosen one finished), but I still take breaks to read my other works, or write on something else. I usually have five or six stories I work on at a time over a span of years. I’d say no book has ever been less than two years of work for me.
Fall
Chapter 1
The forest was cool tonight. The sun had set not long ago, and the heat was quickly slipping away. The green leaves were slowly turning to warmer colors as the days passed. I’d never noticed the different shades of green, but I had a lot of time to watch the leaves since I’d run away. Hiding in the forest had seemed ideal, with food abundant and waiting to be picked and rivers providing fresh water whenever I would need it. Reality was not as kind as dreams. The good fruit had often been picked by nearby townspeople and I was unsure of what was safe, so I ate very little, eating what had not rotted on the ground that I recognized as food. Occasionally, thanks to my gift, I could pull down fruit that was too high for others to reach and had not yet fallen. I was no good at hunting and could not chance a fire, and so there was no meat to be had. The streams weren’t always sparkling clean and fresh, as I had long pictured, but the others tended to stick to water that was safe.
The group I was following was small. Nine men formed the squad Jasper had been placed in, and Jasper was the youngest, as he was only eighteen. Jasper, having grown up privileged, had been perhaps as unprepared as I had been to follow him. However, his needs were provided for, and I had not thought beyond following to even grab something to hold water. I had, a month ago, consoled myself with the knowledge that I had not been given an opportunity to leave with more than the clothes I still wore. Now, as I was forced to go long stretches without water as we trekked for most of the day at a fast pace, I despised my ignorance.
My only saving grace was that my clothes were fairly practical. Made of sturdy material, my gown was not decorated and was black. I had worn it often to remind my stepfather of my mother’s death, hoping to make myself unattractive in the process. I was glad of the shorter sleeves, but I had not brought my cover for cooler weather. I had not realized that summer was leaving early and could only hope that autumn would be a long season as I feared my chances in the winter. Although the days were warm and I was often exhausted at the end of the day by the fast pace, the nights were chilly. For that reason, when I found Jasper’s dark blue coat, given to him as part of his uniform, I had not hesitated in keeping the gift. It was then I realized Jasper knew I was following him.
It was difficult following Jasper and his squad. I could not follow closely, knowing I would be spotted. Often I followed in the woods, struggling over the uneven ground while the rest had a path. If they passed through a town, I went around. On the stretches without cover, I could only follow when I was afraid I would lose sight of them, which meant a lot of traveling after they had stopped and uneasy sleep, fearing they’d leave before I woke. As time passed, I managed to sleep in snatches and still function, and I fell much less often now. At times I was forced to stop for a few moments when I caught up to them. In the first days, I was afraid they would hear me stumbling after them, scraping my hands, tearing holes in my cotton chemise. While the outer garment refused to tear, it was far dirtier than it had ever been. The color of my slippers was unrecognizable now, though I was grateful for the sturdy leather.
Guided by the smoke in the distance and the faint sounds, I approached the camp with trepidation. Jasper at times left food for me, knowing I was struggling to survive, but we had to be careful not to be discovered. The latest assignment the squad had been given was transporting a chain gang to a rock quarry to serve their time. Not only were the criminals dangerous and always looking for an escape, they were extra sets of eyes that I had to avoid. For that reason, I was extra cautious when moving close to camp.
The sudden shout of warning alerted me that something had gone wrong again. The group of nine men in the squad were up against a group of twenty-three men in the chain gang. Though the chain was attached to their ankles and looked to be heavy as they dragged it with them on foot day after day, this was not the first night they had clashed with their sentinels. My gift had protected the men of the squad before, though they didn’t realize it. Jasper was in the most need of my gift, and I didn’t hesitate to scoot forward.
The fighting was still going on as I reached a place where I could see. I could only be so close without getting caught. As I peered through a crack in some boulders, I saw the chain gang had a new advantage. Jasper and the rest of the military crew were doing their best to subdue the convicts, but several were free of their ankle chain and had gotten their hands on their tools used at a quarry, attacking with heavy hammers and sharp pickaxes. Jasper had already been wounded twice, limping and had a long scratch down his face and neck.
As I watched, another prisoner of the chain gang shook off his manacle and hefted one of the sledgehammers with an evil grin. Before he could take more than a step, I sent my gift flowing out. There was a brief, blue glow that I hoped no one was paying any attention to, and then the chain snapped on his other ankle. The big man stumbled and fell flat on his face, the big hammer slamming a breath away from the squad leader’s foot.
The captain of the squad turned sharply, saw the man, and caught sight of the thin, wiry escapee who must have lifted the key. He was moving along the chain, trying to free the others. Still controlling the chain, I locked everything into place. The little man tried frantically to get the key to budge, but it wouldn’t twist. The captain lifted the hammer at his feet and took two steps towards them. With a cowardly yell, the little man dropped the key and fled into the darkness, to my left. It was a simple matter to lift a tree root and he tripped, slamming face-first into a tree trunk, and sliding to the ground with a groan. The captain swung the hammer down, barely missing a hand grabbing for the key, and smashed the metal key. It twisted and a piece chipped off, disappearing.
Before any of the chain gang could grab him, he put one boot on the hammer and withdrew his sword, pressing it to the bulge in someone’s throat. “Anyone care to try and escape now?” he asked in a dangerous voice. I couldn’t see his head, but I knew his grey eyes would be ice cold. They often were. Cold and merciless. I pitied Jasper being stuck with him.
When no one answered, he barked out a name.
“Yes, Captain Jaxon?” came the panted reply.
“I’ve changed my mind. You are now free to kill any prisoner who hasn’t surrendered in the next five seconds.”
Those chained instantly threw themselves flat on the ground, slamming into each other in their haste. Three of the free prisoners did the same. Others were still fighting back. Two fled for freedom and there were currently two escape routes. One led past Captain Jaxon. The other led through my already-injured brother.
My brother managed to take down the first prisoner by injuring his leg, but the second prisoner was too close. Jasper ducked the sledgehammer similar to one Captain Jaxon had used, but the stocky man kicked him hard. Jasper lost his grip on the sword, rolling away from it to dodge the hammer as it slammed into the dirt a breath away from his head. Frantically I sent my magic soaring towards the hammer. The man lifted the hammer a second time, and I yanked it backwards, as if he had over-swung. He stumbled, but managed to keep his balance. This time he swung it around, and it was all I could do to slow down the swing, as if dragging it through water. Still, it crashed into Jasper’s right arm. Jasper was sent flying, right into a pile of rocks. Before the man could follow up and make certain Jasper was dead or continue his escape, one of Jasper’s squad stabbed him with a sword and dispatched the second man a moment later.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw Jasper trying to move, looking dazed. His arm hung awkwardly, but he was alive. He’d survived another day. With the last of the convicts under control, the squad started to round them all up, collecting all the weapons. Very quietly, I crept farther into the trees to watch from a distance. The dark blue coat I wore helped to hide me as I moved away. My stomach rumbled for sustenance. I pressed a hand to my stomach, hoping to silence the sound as I got out of sight.
*
Captain Jaxon watched his men attaching everyone still alive back to the chain while two gathered up the rock quarry tools. The prisoners would be using them again when they reached their destination. Those who were dead would be buried in the morning by the same crew who had just tried to escape. With the key broken, he couldn’t let them loose of the chains now. It would be someone else’s problem. He entertained a brief smile as he pictured the faces of the locksmiths. They hated him. There was rarely a time when he came back with the key in working condition. There were times when he smashed it right in front of the prisoners on the first day. As far as he was concerned, it helped to keep them in line if they thought their escape impossible. And as small as his squad was, he needed every advantage.
He saw young Jasper against the pile of rocks, groaning, and figured he’d lost another one. All in all, he should have been dead within the first week. Pampered, unable to use a weapon past a few weeks of sword training, Captain Jaxon had planned his letter to the family the second day. He led the toughest group of fighters. Those who were put with him either had survived hard living, or they were killed. Jasper hadn’t stood a chance of surviving.
And yet. Over a month in, and he still lived. Luck, they’d supposed at first. Sheer luck that the swordsman they chased had lost his grip at the wrong moment the first time. Jasper had a scar on his side from that one. Luck the second time, two days later, when the branch broke under the escaped criminal they were searching for. Jasper had been at the rear, and likely would have been shot in the back with an arrow. Luck the third time when Jasper had foolishly tried to rescue one of the squad. Virkinoff had been cornered by two men who were taking their time in killing him while the rest of the looters had held off the others in the squad. Jasper should have had his head cut off that day. It was luck and the element of surprise that had saved him when he leapt to Virkinoff’s defense, taking one down with a knife he kept in his boot and allowing Virkinoff to kill the other. Since then, the men had taken Jasper under their wing and called him their lucky charm. No one had been seriously injured, not even Virkinoff. For a month Jasper’s luck had held under circumstances like today when he should have been killed and had managed only scratches. Today, the kid’s luck had run out.
Virkinoff strode over to the lad, tucking a knife in his belt. He met his captain’s eyes and received a nod in permission. Better to kill the boy mercifully than let him suffer his way to a slow death.
Virkinoff crouched over the boy. “Hey, lucky lad. How’s your head?”
Although Jasper shouldn’t have been able to move, he slowly groped with one hand for the rock nearby and managed to push himself up. “It’s not so bad,” he lied. But one arm was clearly broken.
Virkinoff helped haul Jasper to his feet, scanning him. Disbelief was evident. “Hey, Mal. Come check over our lucky lad’s arm.”
Mal crossed the distance in long strides. The tallest man among them, although by no means bigger than Virkinoff who was only an eye shorter, Mal was in charge of keeping whoever they had alive. He ran light fingers over the broken arm while Jasper winced. When his eyebrows winged up, Captain Jaxon guessed his luck had held. “A fairly straightforward break, Lucky. I expected the bone to be pulverized. I’ll reset it, but I think you’ll live.”
Virkinoff’s bellowed laugh rang through the area. “You are one lucky lad.” He clapped Jasper on the back. Jasper winced, but grinned.
After Mal reset the arm and had checked over everyone, he moved next to his Captain. “All fine, Captain Jaxon. Only bad injury is our lucky charm.”
“That boy should be dead.”
Mal shrugged his shoulders. “I’m with you, Captain. No broken ribs, though I’d hazard a guess some of ‘em are cracked and he’ll be bruised pretty badly. But he should have lost a lung, maybe two, and broken more bones than just his arm. And his arm should have been pulverized. I checked it several times. It’s a clean break. I don’t know how the boy does it.” Mal scratched his head. “Though I’ve wondered several times if the reason he survives is the reason he’s been put with us. No boy that young has ever been put with us. And men with ten years on him haven’t survived as long.” He shrugged again. “But he’s brought us luck as well. No serious injuries since he’s been here. No one escaped today, not even the little weasel,” he said, referring to the still-unconscious man who’d lifted the key. “Lucky break he knocked himself out.”
The Captain remembered seeing the man fall. And a hint of the color blue. Just like when Jasper had been attacked with the hammer. A man who worked on a chain gang in a quarry for several years didn’t suddenly over-swing backwards. That was a mistake he expected Jasper to make. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d thought he’d seen a hint of blue then as well. There had been flashes of blue for more than a month, and he hadn’t been able to find anything to create that color. He might have suspected it was Jasper’s doing, but something told him it wasn’t. Jasper wasn’t that aware.
With an absent nod, he sent Mal away to puzzle over this latest incident. Some of the previous occurrences he could attribute to luck. This was more than luck. This wasn’t possible.
The other men ruffled Jasper’s hair and chuckled as they gathered around the fire, the chain gang staked down securely farther away. “You’re a terrible fighter, lad, but you’re our lucky charm,” they teased.
Jasper only grinned, embarrassed. “I’ll do better next time. I’ll try not to need to be so lucky.”
Captain Jaxon was frowning at Jasper. “Very lucky,” he said slowly. “How did you survive that blow?”
Jasper shrugged. “I was already trying to jump out of the way, Captain. I guess it didn’t hit me as hard.”
Jasper’s blue eyes were wide, innocent. But he didn’t buy it. The boy had to know something. He nodded, as if agreeing. “Fortunate timing,” he said.
Jasper smiled, but there was a hint of relief in his eyes. “Yes, sir. Just luck.”
Luck, if luck was colored blue.
He kept a close eye on Jasper that evening, moving out of sight of those gathered around the fire. Although Jasper ate all the soup, he ate only a bite or two of the bread before stuffing it away in his pocket when he thought no one was looking. He lingered around the fire longer, saying his head ached too much if he tried to lie down. When the last of the men disappeared into their tents or the shadows, Jasper stood. He walked over to a fallen tree nearly outside of camp and set the bread he’d hidden near one end, where it couldn’t be easily seen. Then he swung his canteen over what remained of a branch and left it there, walking back past the fire to his own tent. Captain Jaxon settled deeper into the shadow, and waited.
*
I watched the camp from my position. Far to the right was the chain gang. I wouldn’t need to worry about running into them. The fire flickered low, but enough for me to see where my brother had left the bread. He knew I’d be nearby and that I’d need sustenance.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I moved closer. I took my time. I’d nearly been caught twice before by one of the men who came out of their tents for one reason or another, and they had reason to be alert tonight. But nothing stirred. No one moved. No sounds came, other than the occasional rattle from the chain gang.
When I reached my previous hiding spot, I peered around, my heart pounding. I hated being this close to camp, but it was the only reliable source of food. And now that my brother’s arm was broken, I was going to need to stick close. My stomach rumbled again, and I grimaced. I’d used too much energy tonight. I needed that food if I ever hoped of staying with them tomorrow.
With no sign of anyone, I slid over the boulders and crept to the log. It wasn’t too far. The gift from Jasper was at the very edge of the natural campsite, protected by a ring of boulders and fallen trees, and I was quick. Even if someone spotted me, I could probably make it into the trees before I was caught.
I glanced around one last time, seeing nothing. Assured of my safety, I reached over my rock for the bread, and a hand clamped over my wrist.