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Name: Gabriella
Country: United States
State: Minnesota
Metro: St. Cloud
Gender: Female
Interests: Drawing and Clothing Design. I have a vested interest in film photography and digital video. I love to write and have always been enthralled by stories. They are, in truth, my greatest weakness
Expertise: Pretending I can write. Early Middle Ages costume design and Mythical costume design. Pretending I know a thing or two about a thing or two
Occupation: Medical
Industry: Government
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
12/1/2005
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| Hello All,
As many of you know nine authors are working to write a series of books known as the Romany Epistles. They are the stories of nine siblings who have been seperated. For more information and to read the other books you can (and should!) check out http://romanyepistles.blogspot.com each sibling has it's own attached blog with their respective stories. So please check out Aiden, Taerith, Daelia, Arnan, Ilara, Wren, Aquila, Zoe, and Sam.
My personal story is Arnan's and from now on I will be posting those chapters on this site. Rachel R. (Author of Wren) is also posting the chapters on her xanga site.
We are all excited to be working in conjunction and are having great fun working through the details and colaberation effort. We hope that you enjoy reading our stories as much as we enjoy writing them. Please also look for occasional updates on The Wayside Inn Writer's Society Xanga as we come nearer to the publishing process.
All of us would greatly appreciate your comments on our stories! Not to worry, you don't have to join the blogspot community to comment, all you have to do is hit submit! *hint, hint*
Arnan
The Prologue
It was evening. The sun was beginning to sink behind the trees of Braedoch Forest, throwing its leafy depths into shadow. It was early spring and the forest was still newborn; winter's chill could yet be felt in the air at night. On the eastern edge of the forest, the eight children of Isaak Romany were gathering together. Their home was a small house of stone, composed of three circular chambers. In the central chamber a fire burned slowly, varying light dancing on the face of a tall man in a dark cloak. He waited for the eight to gather. His face seemed set in granite, as always; no hint of emotion, no whisper of affection for the children he had raised. He, Maeron Duard, was their guardian, nothing more. They did not care for him either. Though they had grown up in the house, they often chose to stay apart from it: they wandered the forest, worked in the woodshop, climbed the small mountains that overlooked their home in the north. They were not like others. Their life had been one of isolation. They knew weaponry and woodcraft, but little of humanity. They cared for each other and yet spent much of their time in solitude. Their guardian was afraid of them. Once the clan of Romany had been strong and numerous. Duard's ancestors, druids and powerful, vengeful men, had cursed the clan nearly a century ago. In the succeeding generations, hardship, famine, and war had plagued them--helped along by the druids. At last only Isaak Romany and his wife were left. They took their children to Braedoch and tried to live with them there. But Isaak was a powerful man of great personal force, and the few remaining druids feared that he would father a new beginning for the clan. They sent Duard to kill him. And he did. He killed Isaak and his wife, but could see nothing to fear in the children... behind his face of stone there was perhaps a heart, for he kept them alive, and raised them. But he feared them now. Alone, he thought, they could be no threat. But as long as they stayed together, the clan Romany might again arise.
-----
Arnan Romany stood in the shadows with his back against the wall. He was doing his best to hide from the questioning gaze of each sibling as they entered the room. Illara. Sam. Daelia. Taerith. Aiden. Wren. Arnan stepped further back into the shadows as she entered and took her place. He knew that he could not let her see his face. She knew how to read him and could always tell his secrets. He knew. He knew why Duard had called them there. He barely even noticed Aquilla's entrance as he mused through his thoughts. Arnan wasn't sure who would be angrier with him: Aiden, for not warning the siblings; or Duard, for breaking into the master’s papers. Arnan didn't regret it, even though he did not understand what he had seen. Something was driving Duard into utter fear, and Arnan couldn’t comprehend what it was. He may not have comprehended but he knew what the man was doing and he was prepared, but he didn't know how to tell the others. They would be heart broken, and he had fallen short again, by not even telling Aiden. Aiden would have known what to do; Aiden always seemed to know what to do. Out of the corner of his eye Arnan noticed Wren watching him. He was sure she was just as perplexed about him as Duard's summons. Arnan flinched as he felt a cold gaze fall on him. The master was watching him, and they were watching Duard. He shifted trying to relieve the tension of the room, but with no avail. Duard was watching him, Duard knew that someone had been in his chambers and as always Arnan was the likely suspect. Zoe finally entered and Arnan breathed a sigh of relief as the attention was shifted off of him. Still, he knew that Wren continued to watch him.
It was time. The siblings would finally know the meaning of the summons, and Wren would perhaps forget the way he hid.
"You wonder why I have sent for you," Duard said. "I will not keep you waiting. The time has come for you to go. Braedoch is no longer home to you, nor are you any longer a family. You will each depart alone. You will have nothing more to do with each other from this day forward. You are not to communicate, and absolutely not to see each other. If you do, terrible consequences will follow--I am warning you now."
Arnan watched as the words smashed against his family with a greater force then anything that had ever shaken their circle of protection. That protection was going to disappear in a matter of days, everything they held dear was going to be gone. He wasn't sure how they were going to survive, but they had too... didn't they?
"Make whatever preparations are necessary. You leave in three days." Duard's voice broke into the deathly silence. Arnan lowered his head and waited for one of the more volatile siblings to protest in shock at Duard for the harshness of this punishment. To Arnan's surprise the first voice he heard was Taerith's.
"You are banishing us?"
"Do you question me?"
Duard was firm and Arnan knew it was finished. Taerith would give way to the stronger will. The elder boy's "No" spoke a quiet, yet incomplete, submission. They had their orders and they must comply.
Arnan was the first to leave the room. He was already packed, and he knew he could not face his siblings. Guilt far too easily displayed itself on his face. Throwing his pack over his shoulder Arnan walked out the door of the home. Somehow he knew Wren was standing in the door watching him go but he didn't dare look back. This was a chance to see the world, a chance to live a good life not restricted by his over-protective older brothers. He had to make his own legacy now. He knew Wren was waiting for him in that doorway, he knew if he turned back now there would be no leaving. Arnan shifted the weight of his pack in an attempt to ignore the tears streaming down his face and lighten the load on his heart. A part of him had died as he stepped out the door. He kept walking.
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| Writing TagWell... at one point in time it was going to be a very short section  It was written rather speedily, and I didn't get a chance to edit it at all. But oh well. Here goes nothing.
Before me was Zatchifer after me is DettFreak. For a full list of participants visit TheWaysideInnWritersSociety.
Snow
Dantril lunged at Gareth but went reeling past as the taller man moved out of the way. Gareth sized up his opponent. Dantril was obviously a desperate and rash man who was not predictable. Gareth again side stepped, this time a knife that went whizzing by his face. Dantril had another in his hand poised to throw. Gareth was prepared to move out of the way and tackle the man to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sarah moving towards them. He could see in his opponent's eyes that Dantril had also seen the woman.
“Sarah. Stay Back.” Gareth’s words were short and commanding, but not fast enough. Dantril whipped around and cut a gash along her back. Gareth was almost thankful for her scream when Dantril cut her as he could see men running towards them. Moments later Dantril was pinned against the wall by three men. One of whom was the deputy of the town. The deputy was watching Gareth and waiting for an explanation.
"This man is guilty of molesting two women, He just cut Miss Sarah now, and forcefully beat the other woman, he is also guilty of beating his own child who was no more then 4 months of age.”
At this Dantril lunged at Gareth and a wild look came into his eyes.
“You.... You’ve been hiding them! I’ll kill you, you son...” Dantril slumped as the eldest man holding him back knocked him unconscious. The men let go and the reprobate fell to the ground. The man who had clobbered Dantril spat on him in disgust and muttered something about proper talk around a lady.
“You would be wise to lock him up, Carver.” Gareth addressed the deputy again. Carver nodded and motioned for one of the men to pick up the limp body on the ground.
“Be back here at seven sharp for this man’s trial Hunter and we’ll see that he gets what he deserves.”
Gareth nodded and turned in the direction of his wagon. He was confronted by the woman Sarah who stood in his path like a little spitfire.
“Where’s Shorel?”
****
Gareth sighed as he pushed the cabin door open, he didn't have much time before having to turn back towards town to testify against Dantril. He took a quick glance back and was reassured by Sarah's smile from the wagon. She was eager to see Shorel but had agreed to wait until Gareth brought the indian woman out. Stepping inside the cabin Gareth was greeted by utter silence. He was used to hearing Shorel humming to herself or Nort giggling at something new that he had found in the cabin. Panic gripped Gareth's chest as he wondered if Shorel had finally left as she threatened to so many times.
Running into the back room Gareth stopped short at the sight of Shorel squatting down and holding her arms out. Tears came to his eyes as he saw what she was doing. Nort was in front of her with a look of determination on his young face, little by little the boy was taking the first steps of his life. A slow smile was spreading across Nort's face with each new step, finally falling into Shorel's arms the little boy began to giggle and kiss her cheeks. The spell of silence was broken and Shorel turned to grin up at Gareth. For the first time since she had entered the cabin the defensive wall was left down. Gareth crossed the distance between them and gathered both the woman and the child into his arms, to his surprise Shorel only stiffened a little. Nort on the other hand began pulling on the scruff around his chin and once again Gareth was overwhelmed with love for this little boy. His little boy. Shorel leaned back to allow Nort to climb out of her arms and into Gareth’s, but once again shocked him by not stepping away. If seeing Nort walk had caused the ice around her heart to melt in a matter of minutes Gareth was bound and determined to make sure that Nort walked at every possible chance.
“I have a surprise for you.” Gareth watched the curiosity build behind Shorel’s eyes. He had learned over the past five months that she was every bit as curious as she was stubborn. For all her good graces there were things about the White man’s world that she did not understand, and she wanted to.
“There is someone here to see you.” Shorel immediately tensed her body and an unbidden image of Dantril come to Gareth’s mind. It was no small wonder that the woman was afraid.
“Don’t worry Shorel, I think you’ll be happy to see her.” Gareth smiled down at Shorel as he placed extra stress on the last word. A light of recognition came into her eyes and Gareth stepped backwards to get of her way. A few seconds later he was rewarded by the sound of two delighted squeals and laughter. Gareth relished a moment alone with the boy to take a deep breath and release the stress of the day. He silently watched the willow tree behind the cabin sway back and forth before turning his attention back to his ward.
“What do you think Nort? Should we go join them?”
Nort smiled and pointed his chubby fingers in the direction of the door.
“Mammmmaaaa!”
Gareth smiled and tweaked the boys cheek.
“That’s right Nort. Mama.”
****
“Have you told him?” Sarah asked in Lakota. Shorel was surprised that after not speaking it for months Sarah still grasped the language so well.
“Tell him what?” Shorel did her best to avoid the question and tried not to
look her old friend in the eye. She was almost certain that she knew what Sarah was asking. Her suspicions were confirmed as she felt Sarah’s hands land on her expanding waistline. Shorel had been doing her best to hide it, but even the aprons she had extracted from the trunk of Gareth’s sister’s old clothes weren’t hiding it anymore.
“Don’t you think he deserves to know you are bearing Dantril’s child?”
“How do you know it’s not Gareth’s child?” Shorel snapped at Sarah in annoyance and then fell quiet at the sight of Gareth coming out of the back room. Sarah squeezed her wrist and whispered in her ear.
“Because I know Gareth Elijah Hunter to be an honorable God fearing man. You would do well to trust him”
Shorel stiffened and put her defenses against Gareth up even higher then usual. Stiffly taking Nort from him she moved out of his way. Gareth tipped his hat to the women and walked out of the cabin with a look of confusion written across his face. Shorel knew that only moments ago she had been warm and open to him, but she had almost forgotten where she was as she watched Nort walk into her arms. She still didn’t trust him, couldn’t trust him. Sarah was watching her, and Shorel knew that the woman was reading every emotion that was written across her face. She turned to tend the fire in an attempt to hide her vulnerability. Shorel cringed as Sarah spoke, this time in English.
“When?”
“4 and half cycles of the moon.” Shorel answered the question in Lakota.
“Where will you go?”
“Back to my people.”
“What if you can not find them, and what makes you think they will accept you with the children of a white man? One of whom is not even your own?”
“Gareth loves Nort.”
“Aye. Almost as much as you do.”
Shorel felt a piece of her heart die as she realized for the first what it would mean to leave Nort behind.
****
Gareth tried to shake the heavy feeling that came over him as he entered the town. He tried to think of Shorel to take away the heaviness but all he could think about was her cold reaction at the door and the way she tensed up when she thought he had lead Dantril to her. It pained him so much that she didn’t trust him, and yet he thanked God for the times he spent with Nort and for the way both of them were strengthening with every passing day. Gareth stopped the wagon in front of the town hall and lifted up a prayer of protection for both himself and the two he had come to love so well over the past five months. With hat in hand and a heavy heart Gareth hopped down from the wagon and walked towards the building.
****
Shorel galloped across the plains and hills of South Dakota on the back of Quendon in search for signs of her people. A feeling of regret and panic began welling up in her stomach. Justifying her flight with the fact that she had left Nort in Sarah’s capable hands and that she would return as soon as she found her people didn’t seem to be enough. A deep sense of guilt was washing over her, almost as if she had betrayed her own family to death. She shouldn’t have taken Quendon, even if Gareth had hitched the oxen to the wagon for his trip back to town. She should have never left Nort or forced Sarah to go along with her plan. Shorel sobbed a little as fear welled up in her heart, she had done all of this wrong. Shorel slowed suddenly as she felt the babe in her womb kick her. A small smile whisked across her face as she felt along her waist. A bird called from a bush to her right. She started when the same call was repeated to her left. Before she had time to respond Shorel found herself at the mercy of ten bows.
One of the men walked towards her with a gate that was all too familiar. It was her brother. Joy and hope welled up inside of Shorel for the first time in over a year.
“Who are you?” he asked the question so coldly that Shorel didn’t think to respond until he raised his bow once more.
“Can you not remember your own Mother’s daughter?” Shorel smiled at her younger brother teasingly and waited for him to acknowledge her.
“My Sister is dead.”
*****
Gareth sighed in relief as he walked toward the front of the assembly again. There had been enough witnesses about the character of Dantril that anything he might try to redeem himself with would not be enough. Gareth’s own testimony had been first, and very vague, but it had been effective. He now had to stand before the assembly once more as Dantril was given the opportunity to counter the charges. Gareth took a moment to study the man who in a way was responsible for bringing Shorel into his life. Over the past few hours Gareth had easily forgiven him, but he wondered how long it would be before Shorel forgave this man who had done so much to her.
“Dantril Bolseaux, what do you have to say in your defense?”
Gareth’s head snapped towards the table of jurors as he heard Carver ask the depraved little man who had lost all credibility with the townspeople for his own side of the story. Gareth rubbed his eyes as quite suddenly the light in the room got brighter and brighter. With a sudden flash of light Gareth saw a vision.
Shorel was sitting on top of Quendon. She was wearing the cream dress she had been when he left the cabin, but there was dark red blood staining her side and the skirt. The blood was spreading quickly, Shorel was bleeding, and bleeding badly. Panic welled up in Gareth and he tried to reach her but he couldn’t get to her in time. She slumped and fell out of the saddle.
Gareth came back to reality in time to hear Dantril saying
“You call me the traitor yet this man protects a savage woman who is informing her people, soon they will massacre us in our sleep!”
___________
 Alright, alright, whadda think? Don't worry, I can handle it.
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You Are a Blue Flower
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A blue flower tends to represent peace, openness, and balance.
At times, you are very delicate like a cornflower.
And at other times, you are wise like an iris.
And more than you wish, you're a little cold, like a blue hydrangea.
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You Are Midnight
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You are more than a little eccentric, and you're apt to keep very unusual habits.
Whether you're a nightowl, living in a commune, or taking a vow of silence - you like to experiment with your lifestyle.
Expressing your individuality is important to you, and you often lie awake in bed thinking about the world and your place in it.
You enjoy staying home, but that doesn't mean you're a hermit. You also appreciate quality time with family and close friends.
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You Are 16% Selfish
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In other words, you're a warm, caring considerate person.
Just make sure to get your way sometimes. There's a fine line between unselfish and pushover.
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You Are Apple Pie
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You're the perfect combo of comforting and traditional
Those who like you crave security
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You Are an Oatmeal Raisin Cookie
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On the surface, you're a little plain - but you have many subtle dimensions to your personality.
Sometimes you're down to earth and crunchy. Other times, you're sweet and a little gooey.
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What Kind of Cookie Are You?I find this one funny. Because I was having a conversation with a friend, and I'm not exactly sure why we got on the topic but I asked him what kind of cookie he thought I was and that was his response.
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You Are Crimson Red
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Down to earth and warm-hearted, you instantly make everyone feel at ease around you.
And while you have an understated passion - you lack the uncontrolled passion of most other reds.
You prefer to sit back and enjoy every situation life has to offer. You put an optimistic spin on everything.
And even when things are going well, you don't get too amped up. You prefer to keep your emotions as steady as possible.
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Alright... enough, enough... those things are addicting | | |
| Hey Everyone!
Since a number of you have asked what's up with me and my story... well.... I'm insanely busy right now. (Narelle can expound on that ) It's probably going to be another month before I'm free to start writing again  But we'll see what happens! I refuse to give up this story! 
p.s. Narelle I'll get back to you as soon as I can on your story, sorry, our puter decided to go kaput.
~Gabriella | | |
| You are an old soul writer--neither a pantser (who writes by the seat of her pants) nor a plotter (who plots out a book before writing it). You're a person who values serendipity and spontaneity, but also realizes the benefit of having an idea where a story is going before you write it. You may make up an outline or have a plan for a book, and write something totally different, but that's OK. You're not comfortable writing without having at least some idea of where the story is going, but you also like the freedom to change the story from what you originally planned. You're a born writer who realizes the value of serendipity.
What Kind of a Writer Are You? brought to you by Quizilla | | |
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